#with all their stupid rat bullshit

[msgummysharks]

and then they blocked me 🤔

[arolesbianism]

Y'know I generally like all the sephirah core suppressions but Man I wish Binah didn't have the no pause mechanic. She was going to get it anyways later, why did she need it right next to the guy who's main meltdown mechanic involves limiting your ability to pause.

I also just feel like the fight is actually genuinely pretty fun in the way it pushes your micromanagement skills to their limits, and I feel like removing the ability to pause just makes the fight go from a fun management challenge to just kind of stupid. Maybe that's just a skill issue on my part, but still I think her suppression would be a lot less stupidly hard for no good reason and more of a fun challenge if they just removed the no pause part

[teaboot]

Kinda gotta admire the tiktok instagram cottagecore tradwife hoes a little bit.

Like. THEY know that the perfect pretty obedient natural-makeup gently-coiffed rural June Cleaver, barefoot-and-pregnant in a sweet little peasant dress, baking fresh bread24-7 housewife doesn't exist.

They KNOW she doesn't exist. They know she CAN'T exist- that nobody can maintain that façade without burning out eventually-

but they also know that the political divide between men and women is deeper than ever in North America, that men as a demographic are getting increasingly angry and conservative and lonely (fuck off terfs and radfems i can sense your bioessentialism coming), and that women aren't legally beholden to them anymore.

This is one of the first generations in North America where women aren't entirely reliant on finding a husband and keeping him happy to survive, to hold a bank account or live apart from their parents, and so what men are dealing with is several hundred years of being told that REAL men have hot fuckable agreeable wives and...a present reality where nobody is lining up to apply for that position.

So what these shills have done- and they ARE shills- is that they've seen that divide, that niche that isn't being filled, that role that's so unpleasant but so desired- and they've constructed a caricature for profit.

Women aren't naturally more gentle, or parental, or submissive. Women aren't naturally, effortlessly smooth and soft and hairless and desiring of simple tasks to fill their time and a big, strong provider to protect them.

But generations of marketing and media have told us it's POSSIBLE, if not for those pesky man-hating feminist libs and their oversensitive woke culture lashing out at Normal Folks for no good reason.

Like- they're selling themselves, the characters they're playing, as an IMAGE, as a FANTASY, and they rely on people BELIEVING in that fantasy to keep the money rolling in.

The people who buy into it sincerely, the women who give up their degrees and careers and financial freedom for this "simple, peaceful life" we ALL desire in some form, away from stress and technology and horrible things on the news... only to get trapped with six children and a partner with all the power who could up and strand them at any moment... they're just collateral.

Like, "Shame it didn't work out for you, have you tried losing weight and trying harder? Maybe some extra Adult Time? He wouldn't have to chase someone younger and prettier if you'd just take care of yourself and put out more."

I on't hate this faux-humble faux-simple wannabe-amish bullshit just because I grew up rural and know it's fucking stupid, hard work and blood and shit and cow piss and placement in the rain kinda crap.

I ALSO hate it because these women are straight-up class traitors, selling off not just their own image as people, but everyone else's, just to make some paper on a grift.

You know Marie Antoinette used to wear sweet little milkmaid-style dresses and play with lambs in the field, just like the poors?

Never mind that she OWNED the land, and the field, and the people, the cute little frocks, and didn't help the sheep birth, or bury the dead premies, or slaughter for meat, or fight off wolves and dogs, ferrets and foxes and rats with a stick in the winter.

It was just fashionable to pretend.

Sweet and coquettish and Quaint.

THAT is why I hate that shit, and THAT is why I give a fuck.

[sai-int]

You keep talking about douchebag Simon, so I keep thinking about douchebag Simon, and now I wanna get back at him. Here's my thoughts:

This time you're actually done with his bullshit. He's taken you to yours, fucked you seven ways to Sunday, and left before you even fell asleep, again. You know you could help, could give him everything he doesn't have, but goddamn, there's only so many times one can offer before the other party makes it clear that they don't want help. Simon doesn't want help.

He's just been dragging you along on a string, and now that you've cut it, you want revenge. Definitely not partially to make him jealous so he would long for you like you have for him. However, Simon hasn't told you anything about family or friends, so it's not like you could just go and fuck his dad, but some basic reconnaissance should get results.

It doesn't take but a few batted eyelashes, payments for drinks, and some bullshit story about a surprise for Simon to get the other regulars at the shitty bar Simon frequents to talk. He comes every so often with friends, each with an odd nickname. However, the one that piques your interest is one that's occasionally referred to as 'Captain". Simon does have the military look about him, with all those scars and the way he carries himself, so you assume that his Captain will be the next best thing to a metaphorical father.

You learn that his name is John Price, a perfectly average name, common in all aspects, and get a description of him, tall, bearded, built bloke. Not so average. You bribe the bartender to call you next time he's in and steal him away for a few moments after. You would wait around at the dive yourself, but you'd rather avoid Simon because you don't want to fall into old habits don't want to see his stupid face.

A few weeks later, you get the call. You look in the mirror to make sure your makeup is good enough and you throw on the best outfit you can given the time constraint. It doesn't take long to get to that bar and you make your way behind the building to meet with John Price and avoid the prying eyes of your ex(?) situationship.

The hard gaze and tense posture of the large man fall once he gets a good look at you. You're not a hostile that somehow got their location. You're just a little bird (regardless of weight or height, you're little to Price). Maybe you have a thing for large men who could kill you with one finger, because this man is certainly doing it for you. "John Price?"

"Tha's me." John is surprised you know his name at all. He certainly would've remembered you if you had met before. You must be a clever little thing.

Now, you are inherently a bleeding heart, and as much as Simon hurt you, you can't bring yourself to bring someone else into this shitty situation blind, so you explain the whole situation with him, hoping that for some reason he will help and not rat on you. The plan of course is to pretend to have a one night stand with the captain then pretend to fall in love and date for a bit. Just long enough to rub it in Simon's face that you bagged his commanding officer.

John seems entirely amused. Normally he wouldn't dream of going behind his mens' backs like this, especially not Simon who's been a loyal dog for years now, but he clearly has something to learn if he's breaking the heart of this sweet, whip-smart bird like he is, and said bird just offered a perfect learning opportunity. John never misses the chance to better his men after all, and if he can keep this bird coming back to his windowsill to sing to him, (As he doesn't want to cage the poor thing, that would be just as cruel as breaking her) then that's all the better.

Anyways that's what my brain said, you can do with this as you please. ^-^

holy shit, i don't even think I could put it better than this, but here's my portrayal!!

cw : none, douchebag!simon, simon's a brat, but john's a man

you knew this moment would come.

you spent weeks laying the groundwork, learning the ins and outs of simon’s world. the places he haunted, the people he trusted, the patterns of his life. and now, after all the work, after all the nights spent staring at your ceiling, seething over the way he’s used you.

time to make him feel it. really feel it.

because you were done. done letting him take and take and leave you empty—well, not necessarily empty, he's pumped you full of his seed more times than you could count on both hands. you're done waiting for a man who had already made it crystal fucking clear he was never going to let you in.

and what better way to drive the knife than with the one man he actually respects.

john price. his beloved captain. his commanding officer.

you had expected price to shoot you down the second you'd cornered him in the team's usual haunt and suggested your plan, to wave you off like a foolish girl playing a game she couldn’t win. instead, he just leaned back, took a slow sip of his drink, and smirked.

"he needs a lesson," he’d said, amused. "and you need a bit of fun."

john was impressed, to say the least. you managed to not only pin down when he was going to be at the pub, but also put a name to a face? clever girl, you are. gorgeous one too, and that wasn't lost on him.

which is how you find yourself here, pressed close to john price in the same exact pub, not 3 days later, looking like you belong at his side.

simon had wandered into the pub a while ago, but he had just sat at the bar, not noticing the pair cuddled up in a booth in the far corner of the bar. eventually, though, his eyes wander. bored, in his head probably. then they bulge as they land on his captain and his bird. his big, tender paws are all over you. he makes you laugh, a sound that makes simon's heart twist in a way he tried to ignore. he wipes the stray drops of your drink from your lip with the pad of his thumb.

the weight of simon's gaze is suffocating, burning a hole straight through you, scorching from across the bar. it should make you falter, should make you hesitate, but you refuse to give him that satisfaction.

instead, you lean in closer to price, one hand resting lightly on his forearm, the motion deliberate and obvious.

price plays his part so well, you'd think he was being genuine.

"hope you don’t mind me stealing your attention for a bit," you murmur, just loud enough for simon to hear, voice dripping with amusement.

price tilts his head slightly, eyes twinkling with something dangerous as he brushes your hair back. "not at all, love," he says easily, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "was starting to think i wouldn’t see you again."

you just coyly smile at price, kneading his thick forearms as if to say 'you're so strong'. "you can see me whenever you want, John, you know i'm yours."

price hums, gaze flicking toward simon before settling back on you. "so," he muses, voice a deep, rolling thing, "you never did answer my question, doll."

you blink up at him, lips parting slightly. "what question?"

he smirks.

"this one,"

then he leans in, close, slow, one hand settling high on your thigh as he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth.

not a full kiss. just a taste. just tender enough to get your stomach fluttering.

and that’s when you hear it.

the screech of simon’s chair against the hardwood. the slam of his glass onto the bar counter.

then, low and guttural. he's seething.

"the fuck do y'think your doin?"

the tension in the room shifts, like a current crackling through the air. you feel the heat of simon’s anger, the barely-contained rage simmering just beneath his skin.

but you don’t turn, you occupy yourself with your drink, letting price answer first.

"something wrong, mate?" he asks, tilting his head, voice the perfect picture of calm

simon clears his throat, hand waving awkwardly as he tries to find the words. "that's my girl."

price just lifts a brow. "thought you weren’t interested, riley."

simon scoffs, low and sharp. "you tell me, captain," the title drips from his lips like venom. "didn’t think y'were in the business of pickin’ up my fuckin’ scraps."

you don’t flinch. you don’t even blink. you just exhale, slow and measured, before turning your head to meet his glare

"funny," you say, tilting your chin up. "didn’t realize you thought so highly of yourself"

simon’s nostrils flare. his eyes flick to price’s hand still resting on your thigh, his fingers twitch like he’s dying to rip it away

"y'slummin' it, cap?" simon mutters, but there’s a crack in his voice, a tightness to it, something that tells you this is getting to him.

price just hums, completely unbothered as he throws his arm around you. "nah," he says, tucking you into his side and planting a kiss to your temple. "just doin’ what you couldn’t,"

simon goes still.

"or wouldn't."

his fingers curl into fists, his jaw tics, and for the first time since you met him, he doesn’t have anything to say.

the silence stretches. you watch his chest rise and fall, the way his eyes flick between you and price like he’s trying to make sense of this, like he’s looking for the part where it’s just a game.

you see the moment he begins to believe it isn't, the way his shoulders tense, the way his lips part just slightly before they press into a tight, thin line

and then, just as you knew he would, he breaks. he turns on his heel, returning to the bar and downing his drink.

price exhales beside you, slow and knowing, before finishing off his drink.

"well," he mutters, "that was easier than i thought"

you hum, tipping your own glass back before setting it down with a soft clink

"you were right," you murmur, stretching, letting price’s arm fall from your shoulders to rest against the small of your back. "he’s not gonna forget this."

price lets out a low chuckle, and it feels like honey dripping down your spine. he presses his palm just a little firmer against you as he leans down, voice dropping just for you.

"no," he agrees, smirking. "especially not when he realizes i’m keepin’ you."

your breath catches slightly, just for a second, but price notices, his smirk turning softer, more certain

"didn’t think you were mine to take," he continues, thumb brushing the hinge of your jaw, "but now?" he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "fuck, sweetheart. i’d be a fool to let you slip away now."

and when he takes your hand and leads you out of the bar, the weight of simon’s absence is nothing compared to the warmth of price’s touch.

douchebag!simon mlist

[chimielie]

You've gotten kind of obsessed with Suna's voice.

You don't know how because you so often hate the actual content of his words. He's monotone, often, so you have to really focus in to hear the nuances of it. The chuckle in the back of his throat when he's laughing at someone to their face, the dip when someone annoys him, the slight pitch up when he says something outrageous just to make you start shouting.

His voice is mellow and deep, not so bassy that it's grating, not so quiet that you ever have to ask him to repeat himself. He doesn't ramble and doesn't stumble over his words; if he speaks, he's self-assured and says only what he needs to say. If you unfocus your eyes and let whatever bullshit he's saying fade out and just listen to the rolling sound of it, you could almost imagine...

You refuse to finish that thought.

Still, it keeps leaking into your life in ways that aren't ideal. You try not to show preference when conversing with your friends, but your head snaps toward him whenever he says something, no matter how intently you'd been listening before. You start asking him to repeat himself even when you heard him perfectly clearly because you liked his inflection (or more often, lack thereof) on a particular word, the roundness of a certain syllable. He obliges so easily you start to wonder if he knows.

It's even coming up in your dreams. Nothing too explicit, not that your waking self knows of, anyway—you just wake up, suddenly missing the weight of a hand on your waist and the warmth of lips against the shell of your ear. Only one or two sentences will stay with you: sometimes lacking context, like "I missed this," this forever a mystery to you, or impossible phrases, like "I missed you."

Suna is a friend. A friend of a friend that you think is kind of annoying. You're not sure why you walk around with false echoes of him—him confessing to you in your head.

He's funny, sure, but too often mean. He always looks like he's thinking of a joke about you, one he doesn't even mind saying to your face because he doesn't expect you to get it. He's vitamin D deficient, he didn't know how to do his laundry until way too late in life, and he keeps inviting you over to watch weird experimental films.

You go, but only because you enjoy arguing with him about the meaning of it all and somehow the argument never quite finishes. "We'll finish this next time," he says, and you keep coming back like a lab rat for rage-hormone-laced sugar water. He used to invite the rest of your friends, but they stopped attending one by one until it was just you and him, whisper-shouting at each other at 2 a.m. because his hand touched yours in the popcorn bucket and you reflexively grabbed it and then bit him. And all the time, he has that stupid half-smile on his face, like he knows something you don't, like everything you say to him is a joke.

You're there now, your requisite fist-fight over the popcorn over and vacuumed up already, some 60s Soviet film playing on his TV. Somehow, after the violent intermission had wrapped up, he'd maneuvered you down so that your head was in his lap, petting you every time you started making unpredictable movements in a way that managed to make you go limp. It was unfair and made it much harder to win arguments without utilizing physical force.

"It's kind of obtuse if you don't know anything about the filmmaker," he's saying.

"That's the point," you say, his hand stroking across your forehead and making your eyes flutter closed. "You're telling me you make me watch this artistic shit and you want it to be linear?"

"You're not even watching," Suna laughs. "I don't want it to be linear, I'm just curious how much the average person knew about his biography back in the day."

"Mmf," you say. His other hand is on your shoulder now, gently applying pressure, working out some of the kinks having to put up with him has put there. "Annoying guy. Annoy me all the time."

"Do I?" He says. "You look pretty relaxed. You gonna fall asleep on me, huh?"

"It was an order, get it right," you grumble. "Not gonna fall asleep. Just keep talking."

"Anything you want," he says, "I knew you liked my voice."

You'd fight him about it, but you're so comfortable. It'd be like letting him win to disturb your peace right now, so you just listen to him neg you and then narrate the screen for your closed eyes, your breathing slowing and getting deeper. You'll wake in the morning not remembering coming to bed, a hand on your waist you remember without ever experiencing, a sharp chin you hadn't known to imagine digging into the crook of your neck.

He'll say something and be smug and obnoxious to the core, maybe (maybe!) awakening something in you even worse than it was with his morning voice.

When he tells you "we didn't finish last night," his lips tilting subtly in a motion that shouts out loud to you, "I thought you'd want to stay and get the last word in," you'll laugh without meaning to.

There's so much to disagree about in the world; you'll have to stay a long time before you've covered all of it. Thank heavens you have the spirit to battle it out till the bitter end.

[fixated-cookies]

OOUUU I LOVE OBLIVIOUS READERS (because me too the fuck)

the pv x oblivious spouse ask u got made me think of shmilk and an oblivious partner/spouse who's all like "yeah, that's my bf who i love very much, he's a little silly but i promise he's nice (when he wants to be)!", meanwhile shmilk in the bg, frothing at the mouth and growling like a deranged animal bc the person his lovely lovely doll was talking to hit on them (but they didn't notice)

reader: aw babe? need extra cuddling? are you okay? D:

(yandere) shmilk, holding onto reader for dear life, head buried in their hair, content like a cat cuz there's a bitch™ being actively puppet tortured in the basement: matter of fact i think you should pay more attention to me, hm?~ too many people taking space in your lil nogging, doll! it should only be me~

reader: totally normal behavior! :D

(totally don't think about shmilk fucking the reader stupid because he's jealous, prattling on and on w/ his possessive obsessive bullshit, while the reader is smiling like an idiot, briefly thinking "aw? he loves me so!! he's so cute but he should stop stressing, i love him so much!!" before not thinking shit cuz the dick is that good™)

RIGHT?!? Why would you waste your precious thoughts in your little head on those nameless cookies that don't matter? They don't even deserve a role as an extra in this performance...

Smut incoming

Ooh just imagine you talking about them in front of him, rambling on and on about how kind and nice they were to you. Meanwhile he's trying to keep his composure. You barely even noticed the moment Shadow Milk’s mood shifted. His grin had tightened, his gaze had darkened, and he was suddenly much closer than before.

Then, as you continued to chat—blissfully unaware of the way his jaw tensed every time you so much as spoke about that nameless cookie. Without warning, you felt the weight of him collapse against you."Mmmmhh… no," Shadow Milk huffs, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping around you in a vice grip. "Don’t wanna hear another word about them. Not interested. Nope."

His voice is saccharine, sing-songy in a way that should be playful, but there’s a bite to it—a pout laced with something much sharper. You blink, startled, trying to shift, but he refuses to budge. "Shadow Milk—?" "Shhhhhhhhhhhh…" He hums, snuggling closer—possessively, stubbornly, his breath warm against your skin. "Not listening. Not listening."

So here he is, ravishing you with fevered, all-consuming kisses, pressing you against the nearest surface like he’s trying to erase any trace of that insignificant insect from your memory. Oh, but of course you’d forget, doll~ You’re just so busy, aren’t you? Entertaining all these side characters, letting them yap and yap in your precious ear—tsk, tsk. What a shame! What a tragedy! The star of the show, getting distracted by background noise! But don’t worry, poppet. Shadow Milk Cookie will fix that.

He devours you, his lips crashing against yours in a fevered, desperate kiss, hands gripping you tight—possessive, unyielding, demanding.

"Oh, poor thing~" he croons between kisses, his voice dripping with something mockingly sweet. "You’ve been working so hard, haven’t you? Entertaining all these side characters, wasting your precious time—tsk, tsk." He nips at your lips, at your jaw, down to the sensitive curve of your neck, leaving trails of heat wherever his mouth wanders. His grip tightens at your waist, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

"You must be so tired, hmm? So terribly exhausted from all that meaningless chatter." His fingers trail up your arm, slow, teasing, tracing patterns into your skin. "But don’t you worry, my dear, sweet doll, I’ll make sure you never waste your time like that again~."

He kisses you deeper, harder, as if trying to erase every memory of anyone but him.

And when his cock finally sinks into you, you'll find out the thoughts of whoever unfortunate cookie that was in your head melt out rather quickly. "What a shame… That little side character already slipped from your mind, didn’t they? Already replaced by me? I should've been all you were thinking about in the first place, dearie." Oh, but he wants to make sure of it. His lips trail down the length of your neck, slow, possessive, until—

Bite.

It’s not enough to break skin, no, but it’s sharp, lingering, enough to make you gasp—and that sound? Oh, that delicious sound? It makes him grin.

Shadow Milk Cookie is the type who needs to leave proof of his love, something undeniable that stains your skin like the lingering touch of his magic. Kisses are wonderful, yes—deep, fervent, consuming—but bites? Ohhh, bites are even better. Because kisses fade. But marks Marks stay.

He'll grab the underside of your leg while leaning into your neck just biting all over while thrusting until he makes sure every single tainted thought in your head is filled with nothing but him. Listening to your gasp and moans as he fills you in deeper and deeper...

His voice is a smug little hum, his grin utterly insufferable.

"That’s right, doll~ You’re mine. And you love it, don’t you?"

--

Guess who is back? I've been gone for two days, yes I know, I just needed a break lol. Guess who also got into jambound on ao3?? ME!!I I've been studying how shadow milk talks and interacts with others because unfortunately, I'm not far enough in the game yet to actually meet him yet. But his interactions with shadow milk cookie in the fic are sooo canon!! You guys are in for a treat the next time I write PV and SM, get ready!!

[oceantornadoo]

ch13 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: allusions to torture. reader has some ptsd. SMUT.

also i did not edit this srry

masterlist | next

“Again.”

Johnny sighs to his right, but Simon ignores it, too concerned with the man in the chair in front of him. “Say it again.” The man in the chair (Richard, 34, nephew of a Price uncle, twice-removed or some bullshit) spits out a glob of blood on the floor before clearing his throat. “The night the weapons were stolen I was at home with my wife. We watched a new episode of one of those trashy American shows, The Bachelor, that dropped that night. I was off-shift. Came in at 6am because of the Mrs. Price emergency.” Simon’s eyebrow twitches under his mask. Three days after getting his sister back and this is what sniffs out the rat? An American show Johnny loves to pirate? He wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Johnny catches his eye and he can’t fault the man for the grin on his face. When Simon turns back to Richard, red in the face, he’s pretty sure the man’s figured it out. “The Bachelor drops Mondays.”

Richard sputters, twitching. “We were catchin’ up from the week before.” Simon shakes his head, glancing at the papers on the table to his left. “You had off every other night that week and only got to it by Sunday? Tellin’ me the wife keeps up with the drop schedule but waited six days?” He walks closer to Richard, gloved hands gripping the man’s jaw tightly. He presses his fingers into the bruise near his mouth, pressing hard until he breaks.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m in debt, man, 50,000 Euros. No one knows so when I lost to the guy at that shithole of a bar and he offered me a job, I couldn’t say no! He said it was just a few documents, wouldn’t hurt anyone…” Stupid, stupid, stupid. Before Simon can grab a tool from the wall, Johnny clears his throat. “Let me, sir. Gaz called. You’re needed at base.” That could only mean one thing. Simon nods, swallowing thickly as he leaves the room to the sound of screams. 

It’s a half hour drive back to the Castle, but it feels like eons. Simon changes his gloves and mask with the limo partition up, even swapping his sweatshirt out for your benefit. The smell of blood fades when the fabric is removed, bundled into a trash bag he leaves in the car. When Simon double checks his phone, his hands are shaking. Another oddity of the week, too miniscule to dwell on.

It’s been three days since he last saw you, cuddled up in Price’s arms like an injured stray. For all Simon has tried to protect you from, the insults of childhood and your shared shitty father, it worries him to think you got hurt despite his greatest efforts. There’s no doubt that you’re a strong woman, but he’s not sure what Shepherd did to you and no matter what, there’s only so much a person can take. The guilt that’s been following him since the marriage is heavy like a chain, weighing down his every motion. Did he marry you off too early? Was Price the wrong pick? Thoughts swirl like a snowstorm in his head, only stopping when the car pulls up to the Castle.

It’s the perfect home he would have picked for you, given the chance. Sophisticated wealth, nothing flashy or too pretentious. Gaz mentioned that you redecorated, and he can see parts of you in the artwork, in the new chairs meant for casual conversation instead of just functionality. You’ve turned the base into a home and the guilt creeps up again thinking of how you might have never returned to it.

“Mr. Riley.” The door guards nod at Simon as he walks through. He feels out of place in his hoodie, used to his lax uniform in Manchester. Price styles himself more as a businessman than Simon ever has. He hides the scars with gloves and a mask but he doesn’t delude himself into thinking of himself as a professional. He’s more like the head of a wolf pack, barking and snarling at anyone who gets too close. Nothing like Price and he’s glad for it. You deserve someone who can give you a semblance of a normal life, pretending like he’s going to work at an office instead of meeting illicit weapons dealers on the edge of town.

Gaz is waiting for him in the foyer, immaculate in a deep blue button-up. It’s the first time he’s seen the man shaved, a testament to the bonds that you forged with Price men that were tested in the past week. “Ghost.” Gaz nods, leading him through the Castle. “How is she?” Gaz walks slower than usual, seeming to need more time before bringing Simon upstairs. “She’s…recovering. Been talking with a trauma therapist the Captain trusts.” Simon nods. He can’t imagine what they put you through, why John ordered him to find a new set of clothes when they found you. Everything he learns is a strike against Phil, whenever Simon finds him. John promised him retribution.

“How is she physically? They hurt her?” Gaz stops in front of the stairs, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “She’s skittish. Can’t approach ‘er from behind, got t’ give ‘er plenty of warnin’. I only saw her last night when she came down for some food, ‘s the first time she’s been out of the room. The Captain’s given me a temporary title while he’s taking care of ‘er.” It’s not temporary. Simon can sense it, leadership senses setting off alarms. Loyalty, initiative, intelligence - Gaz has it all. A fine replacement if he’s ever seen one. Too bad Johnny hates him. 

Simon nods, ready to see his sister. Before he can step up the stairs, Gaz clears his throat. “If you can, sir, convince her to drink some water? Last night, all she could do was look at the glass.” Christ. What did they do to you?

When Simon climbs up the stairs, you’re lounging in the sitting room, swathed in clothes too big for you. The couch you’re on is out of place, tugged from its original spot so the back is now against the wall. Tactical. He ensures his steps are loud so you sit up with a smile instead of a shudder. “Si!” You grin and his heart stops at the fact you still have the ability to. They didn’t take everything. “Hey, love. Can I hug ya?” You nod, setting your book down with your arms reaching up. “I missed you.” You murmur as he hugs you. The angle is awkward as he towers over you but he doesn’t particularly care, sitting down next to you while keeping you in his arms.

“How ya doin’, kid?” He asks when you release him. Simon slips off his medical mask into his pocket. On closer look, you’re wearing John’s clothes, the name of some obscure London footie team emboldened on the chest. He can hear the man’s voice come from behind the closed bedroom door, likely on a phone call. “I’m okay. John got me a therapist and she’s really helping. She specializes in kidnapping victims and immediate solutions and…yeah. Isn’t that a bit weird, saying I’ve been kidnapped?” On second look, you don’t look your best. There’s circles on your eyes and faded bruises on your jaw, like someone grabbed it and forced it open. Instead of answering, Simon brushes the soft skin of your neck until he can find your pulse. You don’t jolt like he expected you to, instead curling into the feeling of his familiar touch. 

“I knew somethin’ was wrong ‘fore Gaz called. Had this dream of you screamin’ my name, askin’ for my help from somewhere far. When I woke, I just knew. Ready to tear the world apart f’ you, kiddo. You’re still my little sister to protect.” A tear escapes your eye. He brushes it away, then squeezes your cheek like a grandmother would before pulling back. “I’m still lookin’ f’r others who were involved. They’ll get what’s coming for ‘em.” You nod, catching his hand before he pulls back completely. “Thank you for that, Si, but also, I just- just need you here, you know? I think your presence here will do a lot more for me than being an avenging angel.” He gets it, he does, but he didn’t get to kill Shepherd. He was John’s but Phil is Simon’s and no matter what, he will be found. “Think there’s a way f’r us to split it?” It. His time. Your wants, his needs. 

You squeeze his hand and nod. “I think so.” You croak out. Simon can sense the need for levity, so he starts telling you about how Johnny almost got himself blown up a few weeks ago when dealing with a Chinese chemical supplier. Simon’s not usually the joker between you two but he channels the infectious energy of his husband, in pursuit of making you laugh. You finally giggle when he mimics the windblown look on Johnny’s face, even putting in the effort to mimic his mohawk with his hands. It’s goofy and reminiscent of your childhood, the ghost of Tommy making a rare appearance in the corner of the room. Your kidnapping has sent Simon off the edge and out of character, desperate to do anything to repair what has been broken.

The bedroom door creaks open and John’s heavy footsteps follow. “Hi, sweetheart.” John approaches the couch head on, kissing your forehead before nodding at Simon. “Simon.” He nods back, not feeling the need to put his mask back on. “John.” “What is this?” Your eyes flick between the two of them, brows furrowed. Simon looks at John, who shrugs. “What’re ya talkin about?” You frown at Simon’s words, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Since when is there a bromance? What did I miss?” John sighs, dragging a hand down his face. Simon reaches out to ruffle your hairdo, smiling when you screech and bat his hand away. “‘S called mutual respect, sweetheart. Not sure what a bromance is.” You mock John’s sigh, rolling your eyes. “You’ll be wearing friendship bracelets by the end of this year if you keep going on this trajectory.” The men lock eyes with twin glances of horror.

“On that note, you good if I pop in downstairs, sweetheart? Gaz needed help on something.” A look of understanding passes between you two, a look Simon has felt time and time again with his husband. It’s like a punch to the gut in the softest way possible. “All good, I’ll be here with Simon.” John nods, kissing your forehead before taking a few steps back towards the staircase. Before he can leave, Simon clears his throat. “John, you have any condos or safehouses in the area you aren’t usin’?” John’s eyes flicker with a different kind of understanding. “Enough space for two, I gather?” Simon nods, ignoring how you’re kicking his shin. “For a month or two, at least.” You kick him harder and he shoves your foot away in a playful push. “I’ll see what I can do.” John responds, nodding before heading down the stairs. 

“You’re stayin’?” When he turns to look at you, your lip is quivering. He sighs in faux exhaustion before tugging your legs on top of his. “‘Course I’m stayin’. Can’t let my baby sister fight alone.” You shyly wipe your eyes before meeting his own. “What about the business in Manchester?” He shrugs, acting like he didn’t spend hours on the phone with his best men last night. “It’s what I’ve got men for. Plus, you can show me ‘round.” Instead of squealing or jumping him, you give him a small smile. It feels older and mellow, something he hates. “Thanks, Si.” He squeezes your foot. He wants to bring up the water drinking, but you seem a little fragile right now. He’s got time now, something he won’t miscount. “‘S what I’m here for. Now tell me the rest ‘f y’r redecoratin’ plans. That entryway could use some work.” You grin and he’s reminded of the toothy five-year old, playing hide and seek in the Riley house of horrors. A survivor, through and through.

-

Every day passes faster than the last. You find out your therapist, Marie, is actually Dr. Marie Laswell, Kate’s wife. She promises you that despite their marriage, everything you share is confidential and stays between you. It’s hard work, recounting everything that happened in your daily meetings. John is there, kissing your forehead and cuddling you after nightmares, like the perfect gentleman. As the adrenaline drains and you find yourself living again, you crave more than that.

You want to go back to your last fight. You know it could be self-sabotage, but in the confines of the Castle, it’s like nothing can harm you. John only has guards you know working. Terrance stops by once or twice, telling you he got promoted. Simon visits whenever he can. Your reunion with Johnny is heartfelt and strong. Gaz feels like a son now, protective and firm about your security. All of these facts coalesce into a suit of armor, knowing that as long as you don’t leave the building, you are safe.

Marie tells you it’s not the healthiest mindset. You remind her progress is progress. She sighs in a way that reminds you of her wife.

The one-month anniversary of your kidnapping creeps up on you, haunting the corners of your mind. There’s an ache deep in your heart to return to normal, no matter what he said about finding a new one. You want so badly to change without looking over your shoulder. On rainy days, there’s a phantom ache in the side of your arm that Phil sunk a syringe into. He’s still in the wind, a fact that agitates Simon more and more. Small wins happen too. There are days you don’t need John at home, content with phone calls throughout the day and a long dinner at night. You’ve gone on two (2!) walks by yourself, passing through the park across from the Castle as guards trail behind you and at the corners of the park. You’ve progressed to Gatorade and flavored carbonated water but still jump at unknown touches. Except, of course, John’s.

Every night runs like clockwork. You shower, John standing outside the door like a protective hound. Then you slip on a robe and let him in, brushing your teeth and finishing your routine together. He leaves to ‘check something’ and always returns with a new non-water liquid he wants you to try, like a new Gatorade or flavor of tea. In the time he’s gone, you change. You’ve graduated from speed-changing to taking your time, rubbing lotion on your body before slipping on pajamas. When John comes back, you cuddle and talk, and then lights out.

The same damn routine. Every. Night. You feel like a nun.

The anniversary passes without little fanfare. John takes the day off, unusual but part of the new normal. Gaz is left in charge again, a fact he’s getting more used to. When you wake in the morning, something else new happens.

Morning light warms your eyelids. John’s arm is a comfortable weight around your waist, his forearm hair rubbing the patch of your stomach exposed by your raised shirt. Something pulses low in your belly. When he turns to pull you closer into him, your stomach flutters. His face tucked into your neck, the weight of him searing as his body is half-slung over yours. It’s a welcome change from how you usually find yourself on top of him, like he’s pinning you to reality. A body scan reveals wetness between your thighs and a keenness between your lips.

When you cant your hips slightly, chasing that fluttering feeling, his cock twitches in his sweats where it’s against the outside of your thigh. You tilt them higher, fighting against the weight of him, and smile when his cock twitches again. “Go t’sleep.” He groans, rough and sleepy into your ear. Instead of listening, you push your thigh outwards to the heavy weight of him.

“Watch what y’r doin’, pet.” Pet is new. Unlocking a new nickname sends a thrill down your spine. You ignore the connotations behind it. “John…” You whisper, injecting an extra breath of air into your speech. He pulls his head up, hair mussed and eyes blurry. He’s beautiful.

He props himself up on his forearm, giving your own arm freedom to move. You do so, sliding it from his neck to his torso, snaking down to follow his happy trail. “What d’ya think y’r doin’?” You run your fingers through his trimmed body hair, only dipping slightly into the elastic of his boxers. “I want to feel you.” You blink at him with wide eyes. He pulls his core backwards, letting your hand drop on the mattress. “Y’r not ready.” You frown, scooting back into your pillows so you can properly meet his eyes. “I think I get to decide that, John.” He closes his eyes, sighing. “I was readin’ an article and-” You huff, pulling back further until you’re sitting on the opposite side of the bed. 

“This is the problem we have, John. You trust external sources more than me.” If he was a weaker man, he’d look whiplashed. Unfortunately, you got a husband prepared for anything, a man who can argue at the drop of a hat. “I’m jus’ sayin’, sweetheart, maybe we wait. I don’t want t’ hurt ya.” You scoff, pulling your knees to your chest. “Can you trust when I say you won’t hurt me? That I can handle myself and know my limits?” He’s silent for a second too long.

You launch yourself out of the bed, heading for the bathroom. He’s faster than you, weak from weeks of lethargy, beating you to the punch to stand in front of the door instead of tugging you back into him. “Stop.” You place a hand on his chest, intent to push him away, but all he does is cover it with his own. “Can you jus’ wait for a second?” That’s when you take a second look at your husband. How he’s panting like he’s out of breath, even if you know he goes for runs every day. His pupils are blown and feral, a predator in the wild. You stand for a bit, letting your palm track how his breaths go in and out of his chest.

“Deep breaths for me, baby.” How nostalgic it feels, the roles reversed as this time it’s you talking him off a ledge. His breathing calms after a minute, eyes going tame as he squeezes the life out of your hand. When he’s calmed, he speaks. “The last time you ran from me after an argument, you were taken from me.” Your heart breaks a little at the weakness he lets you see. Your hand slides up into his beard, brushing over the rough strands as you look in his eyes. “I wasn’t running, John. I just needed some space.” He shakes his head in disagreement. “Ya don’t know what it felt like, seein’ you step into tha’ car an’ gettin’ a call hours later that you were gone.” You nod, biting your lip.

“You’re right, John. I don’t know. And you don’t know how my brain works. You don’t know how harsh grips trigger me but yours never have.” Understanding brews in his eyes, cloudy like a cup of coffee. He pulls you in closer by the waist, lining you up until your pelvises meet. “I get it, sweetheart. I trust you.” You exhale a breath at his words.

“I didn’t take ya on tha’ trip months ago because I was meetin’ a new supplier an’ I didn’t trust him. You know firsthand now how dangerous my world is. I know you’ve lived this life, but London is more cutthroat than Manchester could ever be. ‘M not sorry f’r smotherin’ ya, because at least y’r safe. ‘S my number one concern in this world.” It’s terrible, how you don’t care that he’s admitted that he smothers you. How all you care about is how he knew what you were referencing, even if it was from months ago.

“How do I know you want me for me?” Another concern of yours from your fight before the kidnapping. He shrugs, giving you a wry smile. “Guess you’ll have to trust me.”

You drag him into the bathroom, jumping onto the counter and pulling him between your legs. You practically maul his face, kissing him with unrestrained want. His admission flipped a switch in you, a longing that’s been asleep for a while. It wakes up when he pulls you closer to his pelvis, your clothed cunt rubbing against the outline of his cock. You’re still wet from earlier, your folds sticking to airy fabric. 

“Didn’t want it like this.” He breathes behind your ear. John sucks a soft patch of skin there, licking at the sweat from your sleep before trailing down your neck. “Wanted t’ eat ya out f’r an hour ‘fore even pullin’ my cock out.” You run a hand down his rigid back muscles, pulling at the fabric until he lets you tug it off. John laves his tongue at your neck, alternating between sucking and nipping at your sensitive skin. His hands grip your hard, thumbs inching closer and closer to your core. You’re wearing shorts without underwear, a perfect combination that he soon discovers. “What else?” You moan, leaning your head back until it hits the mirror behind you. It’s perfect, knowing there’s nothing but a wall behind your back. It calms the worried part of your brain, letting you fully focus on the moment.

“Then I’d let ya suck my cock, get it nice an’ warm in tha’ mouth of yours. Let you rub y’r cunt against me.” You whine at the image, nails digging into his back as he continues making out with your neck. Finally, he tugs your sleep shirt off, trailing downwards to suck at your tits. He squeezes one while sucking the other, pulling hard enough to make it hurt. There’s no part of him you can reach, the angle of it awkward and wrong. The solution is to trail your free hand up your thigh, passing his hands to push the fabric of your shorts aside and thumb at your clit. “Wha’s this, hm?” He murmurs, switching to your other tit. “Wanna be ready f’ you, John.” The wetness seeping from your cunt makes it easy to slip a finger in, stretching yourself in preparation for your husband. He’s letting you set the rhythm in a way he usually doesn’t, and you love him for it, something you don’t think too hard about.

“Let me?” He asks and you nod immediately. He replaces your hand with his own, sliding two thick fingers into your hole. You clench immediately at the intrusion, more out of tension than fear. John stops, glancing up at you from where he’s leaning down. “Need me to stop?” You shake your head, moving your hips forward so his fingers slide in deeper. “It’s just been a while.” John is still stopped, searching your face for something. “I trust you, John. I need you to say it back or this won’t work.” His eyes don’t leave your face, nodding slowly. “I trust you with my life, baby. An’ I trust ya with yours. You gonna let me stretch you out?” Instead of answering, you start to grind slowly, fucking yourself on his fingers. His gaze drops down, watching your cunt squeeze him tight. 

“How’d I get so lucky, hm? Perfect wife, dropped right into my lap.” John makes you work for it, angling his thumb so your clit hits it with every grind. It’s the most work your body has done in months and you love it, love the burn in your muscles as you command them to work. “This is goin’ t’ be a lot shorter than I wanted it t’ be, pet. Can’t focus when y’r mewlin’ f’r my cock like this.” You whine at his words. John pulls his fingers out, a string of slick trailing after them. He rubs them against your chest, pointed nipples scraping against your own wetness. The friction makes you delirious and needy in his arms. “John, I need you.” He hums, that same hand pushing down his sweats to reveal his cock, thick and heavy in his hand. He gives it a pump and you watch him spread your slick around it, mixing with his precum to make it even smoother.

“Last chance, baby.” John lines his cock up with your cunt. He rubs it up and down, catching on your clit every other time. “Shut the fuck up and fuck me, John.” His name on your lips is punctuated with a gasp as he pushes into you. You let out a string of curses at the intrusion. No matter how many times John has given you his fingers, the blunt width of his cock is so much more. It’s been over a year since you’ve fucked someone, and it’s never been like this. It’s never been dark blue eyes filled with trust and care, flicking down every so often to watch his cock go in and out. It’s never been dangling over the precipice of an orgasm so fast, the speed of it hitting you like a lightning strike. He fucks you through it, his hand on the back of your neck, forcing you to look down at where you’re joined. You watch your tits and stomach bounce at his movements and you watch as he hungers for it.

John’s a talker. This you’ve known, but it’s never been like this. 

“Look at you, taking my cock so well. Fuckin’ made f’r it.”

“Y’r cunny’s so tight, baby. This all for me?”“So desperate for it, pet.”

“Such a good girl for daddy. C’mon, say it.”

It makes you clench and mewl and claw at his back. He tries to kiss you but all you can do is let your mouth fall open and pant against him. Your first orgasm left you weak-willed, eager to follow his instructions. You nod your assent to every word, sweat dripping into your eyes. The second orgasm builds slow in your core. It burns with every thrust, every brush of your clit that John’s thumb makes. You lean your head back so it hits the mirror, suddenly realizing that your actions echo each other in the mirror behind John.

Your mouth is open. Sweat makes your skin glisten. You settle your weight on your hands and arch your back, a glimpse of your tits visible in the glass. It means you look almost whorish but it doesn’t matter because it’s for your husband, whose muscled back ripples with every thrust. That’s the image that sends you over the edge, whining John’s name as you fall off the edge. 

“Where, baby?” John meets your eyes with a burning question. You look down at the creamy ring around his cock, the slight of it sending another hazy spark to your core. “Inside.” This time John’s the one cursing, dropping his forehead to your collarbone as he watches himself come inside his wife. Finally, with his soft cock still inside you, John slows to a stuttering stop.

“Oh fuck.” John looks up at your panicked words with a matching expression. “Somethin’ hurt?” Your mouth opens, then closes. “What? No. I just remembered I stopped taking my birth control because of what happened. I haven’t been on it in over a month. And Plan-B’s really mess up my cycle.” John laughs. Your husband laughs, with his forehead on your collarbone and his cock inside you, pushing his cum in further. “This is not funny, John!” He shakes his head before meeting your eyes. “I got a vasectomy.” You blink. “What do you mean, you got a vasectomy?” He drags a hand down his face. Instead of answering, John eases out of the tight hold of your cunt. He fishes for a washcloth somewhere near, running warm water over it before swiping at your inner thighs. “When we had tha’ conversation about Gaz. Didn’t want it to happen after tha’ an’ not be prepared.” You squint in confusion. “I timed it with your period.” You bark out a laugh of disbelief.

“You’re fucking crazy.” He looks up at you with worry etched into his face, like he’s done something wrong. All you do is smile and pull him in, kissing his nose like he’s adorable. “I hate you.” You say, laughing. “You love me.” He murmurs against your skin. You don’t refute it, shutting him up with a kiss.

-

Phil watches and waits.

Her husband keeps leaving her alone. Phil’s camera screens flicker, shots of her through windows and from the park. The brother is closing in but it doesn’t matter, not when he’s so close to completing his mission. He must watch and wait.

-

one. chapter. left.

i barely edited this so if you see any mistakes no you didn't

-

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[lizzieisright]

i really love the way you write abby it’s always so humanizing of her and her character and makes her feel all the more real!! could you write hcs about abby little quirks as a girlfriend

Thank you so much! ❤️❤️

I did the hcs thingy, guys!

Definitely had a "I'm so straight" phase.

Loves stand up comedy and will make you watch it with her. This woman will find comedians that no one has ever heard of and in a few months they will suddenly become popular. She has a sixth sense for it.

Lives under a fucking rock. She doesn't have tiktok or twitter, uses Instagram as her archive.

However. Abby loves insta stories. Yeah, she could post a thirst trap in the gym, but why would she if she can post a video of a hedgehog she came across? Or a weirdly existential poster she saw? Or you doing some stupid shit like trying to open a bottle of wine with a screw and pair of pliers? (You fail, and the next video is her opening the bottle)

Obviously a gym rat, hates going to the gym with someone (even you), unless she goes the separate ways with her company. However, if you're new to the gym, Abby will gladly show you around and will abandon her own workout just to take care of you. If you hate gym, it's fine too - again, she prefers to train alone.

Abby's care is quiet: she is one of these people who does things and never talks about them. There's a famous story about Yoongi (BTS) who gives his teammates water bottles without even looking at them - that's Abby for you. She doesn't ask or even draw attention: she gives you snacks, puts her jacket on your shoulders, washes the dishes after you've cooked, and all of this is just so natural to her she doesn't even recognise it.

Abby is not the person who gets into your hobbies, but she remembers everything you've told her and will let you talk her ear off.

The most hardworking person you've met. Even if she has her family support, she still tries to find some kind of job, or puts all her effort in her studies.

Abby hates all these healthy recipes, so she tries to come up with her own that won't taste like absolute shit. She is doing great, by the way, and tricks you into healthy eating with her cooking.

If you have any kind of ED, Abby will be the most supportive person ever. She will bite everyone's head off if they dare to comment on your eating habits, help you through recovery and never, ever judge you.

She doesn't like gossip, and is pretty private about her own life.

(this one is self-indulgent) If your hair needs any kind of extra care, Abby will help gladly. Brushing, braiding, hair care routines - she is there for you. She cares about her own hair and understands your struggles.

Abby is confident: not cocky confident but in a way that she knows there's nothing wrong with her and no one can tell her who she is or pretend to know her better than she knows herself. It's impossible to make her feel self-conscious.

So she really doesn't get it if you get self-conscious, especially around her: she sees you as a whole, complicated person and to her, you have nothing to be self-conscious about. It's just you, and you're perfect the way you are.

The woman of action - Abby never promises something she can't follow up on. If she tells you she will do something for you, she will no matter what.

Can't clock people for shit - for all her own confidence, she is oblivious as fuck. Has some bullshit detector built in her, but interpersonal relationships are not her strong suit. Didn't know Mel and Owen were dating for like four months, or that Manny and Nora were awkward around each other because they slept together and figured out they don't work sexually at all.

So flirt with her all you want, but she will think you're just bantering. She will flirt back shamelessly and still think it's just friendly banter. Idiot.

Combine her obliviousness and confidence and get Abby who uses her words all the time. She wants to ask you on a date? She asks, absolutely not scared of being rejected. She is straightforward as fuck and will ask whatever she wants to know.

Really appreciates if you can hold your own against her. Abby is not pushy, but she is more at peace knowing you will establish your own boundaries without fear.

She is an octopus when she sleeps. Her nose will be buried in your hair/neck to the point she will have trouble breathing, but she doesn't care. Holds you the whole night and genuinely won't let you go if you try.

Buys you flowers every week, and when you start living together, Abby starts buying house plants. Eventually your place looks like a greenhouse.

Loves gaming. Abby will seat you between her thighs and play her little games while you can nap or scroll down your phone. If she plays something with a good plot, you will watch it like a movie.

If you're into gaming too, then you'll be two nerds who fight over who gets to play some game first.

If you're a Sims 4 girlie like me - Abby buys every pack they release for you. Doesn't matter if you want it or not - she hears you watching announcements, she pre-orders it. Good luck with the Journey to Batuu pack.

+ nsfw

Abby is gentle and caring to her core. Very big on the consent, so if you find asking if she can do something annoying - too bad, because in the beginning your sex will sound like a very hot interrogation.

On the other hand, if you're into dirty talk - you're in luck. She sounds extremely hot and doesn't even know it.

She is a switch and her preference depends on her mood.

If Abby tops, she is 100% service top.

Everything you say will be weaponised and used against you.

You like how she kisses your neck? She will master it untill you start to shake just from the brush of her nose against your skin.

She is very thoughtful and goal-driven. (The goal is to have you half-delirious with pleasure)

Loves eating you out, can and will do it at every opportunity.

When Abby bottoms, she thinks she is pretty chill. In reallity she is so damn bossy, will tell you what and how to do.

If you want her to shut up and take it - your best bet is a strap. Abby turns into a whiny, sweet mess, and if she tries to talk you can always fuck her harder.

Abby is very open to trying out new things, does all the research and then nerds out to you about it. The most unsexy sex talker outside the bedroom.

The rule of thumb is: don't make her cum as long as you can, otherwise Abby will just have her orgasm and lose all her sex drive.

That's why Abby is the strong supporter of "sex is a journey, not a destination" philosophy. She likes sex for the intimacy and fun, not for the orgasms.

okay I'm stopping there otherwise I'll never finish

[i-smoke-chapstick]

‘SAILOR SONG,

-THEPENGUIN!SOFIA FALCONE X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; You run into Sofia at Berto’s funeral. You’re the only one who can calm her down.

⋆ tags/warnings. sofia falcone x female reader. ANGST AND COMFORT!! Might make this a series if anyone likes it enough <3 she’s my literal BABY im so in love with her it makes me want to kms! she deserves SO much better i just wanna give her a hug (and a kiss). slight homophobia mentions, past relationships (but unclear), THE HANGMAN!!!!! Based on 1x2, bertos funeral ! she is my girlfailure wife and i need her

♫ “Begging, baby, would you please? / Do the things you said you'd do to me. / And when we're getting dirty, I forget all that is wrong / I sleep so I can see you 'cause I hate to wait so long.” Sailor Song by Gigi Perez

High tides. That’s what Gotham is, after the haunted return of the Batman. At least, that’s all you see around you now. Theres blood in the water, and the sharks have all come to hunt.

You think it’s all bullshit. The bat, the Riddler, this fucking funeral. You hardly knew the man, and you know it’s a waste of time. Everyone dressed in black here is only cutting their losses. It’s all out of fear. Berto was unabashedly himself. And that was weak. He tried too hard to be his father.

You scan the funeral, which might as well be a party for some of these fuckers, and hold your breath. Okay, maybe you’re more upset than you’d like to admit. Nihilism appeases the soul where optimism does not. You’d only had very few conversations with him, but he was…nice, to some extent.

It’s a day of mourning. And that’s what you do. Memories come to you in unsafe and ungrateful waves, alerting you of every interaction you’d ever had with the man of the night.

“Hey, so,” He scratched the side of his head with his index finger. “Wha- What’s up with you and my sister?” A bitter smile on his face, nose scrunched in faux curiosity. You’d known better. You grew up your entire life in Gotham, and you had known a thinly veiled threat when you’d heard it.

“Sofia?” You’d asked, lighting a cigarette. The sunset flooded through Italy’s streets. It wasn’t your first summer here. You took a long drag of smoke, thinking of how to phrase your answer. The Falcones weren’t stupid, none of them were, not really. “Nothing.” You settled on, dabbling it out in the ash tray. “Why?”

You’d expected some bullshit to fly from his mouth. The family…That you were an outsider. That whatever the two of you had going on was distasteful. A woman and a woman. Not a good look in the papers. Weak willed woman frolicking together in Gotham’s underground. You expected him to insult you, and her. What would their father think?

But Alberto didn’t say anything like that.

“If you hurt her,” He began, and you felt yourself visibly recoil. “I’ll have to, you know,” He motioned with his hands, forming a gun with his forefinger against his temple, and a pew sound. “Pop your top.”

Returning to yourself, you find it in yourself to be greatful. For Alberto, not ratting the two of you out. Whatever you two had…was more than the both of you ever managed to let on. Small touches here and there, kisses when you played house. Laughing underneath streetlamps, painting her nails. And then she got locked up in Arkham. Your best…friend.

And now she’s finally released. Idiots with poster boards outside begging for her return to the loony bin. She’s somewhere in this house, on the same floor as you.

You mindlessly sip on your glass. Alchohol is your real friend tonight. The undergrounds in shambles, the entire city is. What’s stopping you from leaving? You don’t know. Not until you see her.

She trails in the room, and the first thing you hear are overwhelming whispers. You don’t pay attention to them, how could you? Her hair tied up messily, sticky bangs and beads of sweat on her forehead. Her makeup is neat, but just barely smudged.

She’s bug eyed as she enters, chest heaving in…anger? fear? She pays much more attention to the whispers than you do, you realize.

“She’s crazy,” You hear from behind you. Faces hide behind there glasses and hands, leaning down and gossiping amongst themselves. It makes you sick. She makes you sick. Even more so, as she seems to lose herself. It starts with a small bite, digging at the finger food, before she picks up heaps of it in her palms. Over and over and over again…

“That’s enough,” You whisper, sternly, grabbing her forearm. Her mouth almost drops open with the food, eyes widening even more. She stops chewing, and for a moment, it seems everything and everyone is finally scilenced.

She doesn’t say a word in her shock, her arm falling down. She lets you guide her out the room, and the both of you ignore the comments from passerbys.

When you finally reach an empty room, you close the door. Her blood runs cold, and she’s perpelled to the edge of the room, like a cornered and vulnerable prey animal.

“What are you doing here?” Sofia drawls, clearing her throat. Her cheeks are tinged pink from embarassment, and her nose twitches in frustration.

“I knew him too.”

“No, you didn’t.” She remarks, firm in her stance. Her jaw is clenched tight, and you sigh. You make your way over to a couch, sitting down lazily. It doesn’t feel how it used to.

“Yeah, I didn’t. But I got an invitation.”

She ignores you. Straight to the point.

“You’ve heard. What they are saying about me, out there.”

“Hard not too.”

She scoffs, letting out a hmph noise. She turns away from you, blinking.

“Well. Do you believe it?” She tests, arms crossed. You feel your eyebrows scrunch, and you give her a once over. You want to scream at her, that she isn’t crazy. That whatever she’s done isn’t her fault, not completely. But you can’t claw the words out- not after not seeing her in years.

“You do, don’t you?” She continues. She stops pacing the room to take a seat parallel to you. You bite your tongue.

A beat of silence, and something in her dark eyes takes it as your final answer. Theres something deeper, darker swirling in them you can’t quite place. She’s not the same girl you knew as a child.

“No,” You whisper, finally, and watch her perk up. “You’re not crazy.”

She stays silent as she looks at you disbelievingly. Like you’re saying it simply to appease her. You find it in yourself to let the tension melt away, leaning back into the cushions.

“You don’t need help.” You affirm, and her expression is unreadable. “You aren’t broken. Or whatever those fuckhead doctors told you in Arkham. You’re just…” You trail off, needing to word this right. “You’re just your fathers daughter.”

You expect her to ask ‘what thats supposed to mean?’ but she doesn’t. No…she looks too vulnerable in this light to fight back against you. Again, silence sounds, and you wonder if you’ve made a mistake.

It’s only when she speaks, voice trembling, do you see her resolve break.

“Why didn’t you visit me?” It’s quiet, almost a whimper, and her voice breaks. “In Arkham?”

There it is. The question you’d been dreading, mostly because you didn’t know the answer yourself.

Her eyebrows are pulled together, nails clenched into her own skin. You go to tear them from her palms, opening them up to find the marks. She doesn’t say a word. She makes no move to push you away. She’s too tired. She’s greiving, her father, her mother, her brother, her sanity.

You lean down, and press a gentle kiss to her nails. A strangled sound is ripped from her at the action, and you notice how her eyes turn glossy. You decide to ignore the question for now, watching tears finally slip from her eyes. She’d been holding them in for what felt like forever. But not with you, she finds, she could never hide anything from you.

You pull her in, embracing her for all its worth. She immeadiatley falls into you, open mouthed sobs against your shoulder. You hug her tight, and it feels blissful. After so long of only seeing her on TV reports and pictures, touching her, feeling her, is heavenly. Just like it used to be.

She still smells the same. Her makeup runs as she cries into your shoulder, and you gently hush her. You pet her head and hair, cradling her like she’s fragile glass about to break. She’s yours. You’re hers. You always have been.

Rocking her back in forth, you place a kiss on her forehead. When she leans into you, you place more. Soft little pecks across her skin, to her head, wrist. You kiss all her tears away as they fall. Sweet and salty, wetting your lips. You feel her try to catch her breath.

She pulls away from you, hair messy. Her lips are parted, and her pupils blown, and theres a silent promise in the air between the two of you. I’m with you. Im on your side. I am the woman who wants you to win.

Her hand trails to your cheek, and she looks at you worshipfully. Her eyes flit to your lips, as if asking, begging for just one.

You nod. You could never deny her anything. She leans in, tentiavley, before connecting your lips. Memories flash through your head. She tastes the same, acacia honey and cigarette smoke. Besides yourself, you deepen the kiss, and she responds tenfold.

Her hands thread through your hair with a gentle tug, as if there is a feral need buried underneath her skin, to possess you. Remind herself you are here, and you are hers, not an illusion. Not a nightmare. She would kill for you.

You have to almost fight her to part for air, pulling away with heavy breaths. She doesn’t let you get far, resting her forehead against yours.

For better or for worse, she has stuck her claws in you. You realize she will not let you go. Not tonight. Not tommorrow. Not ever.

Breath intermingling, her body heat radiating against yours, you can’t find it in yourself to care.

You stay like that, unanswered questions still plaguing the silence. You’ll answer them one day. For now, you choose only to lose yourselves in one another.

You regret not telling Alberto the truth before he died. She’s not nothing to you. She’s everything.

[arolesbianism]

Why must I only be capable of coming up with cool art ideas long past midnight

[rosekeu]

BAD REVIEWS [PART TWO] : shigaraki tomura x reader [taglist OPEN!]

“i'm intentionally careless, at least i got self awareness. just want someone to love me who doesn’t.”

<< previous — next >>

The walk back home was shameful. Painful even. Your soaked shoes squelched with every step you took, water sloshing inside them like a cruel joke. Your clothes clung blatantly, heavy and cold against your shivering skin. A constant, suffocating layer of regret of what you just had done. 

The city lights blurred through the haze of rain and tears, all smeared into a mix of despair and sorrow. 

What the hell were you thinking? 

Looking for your one-night stand so carelessly? Barging into a man’s home with trembling hands and delusional fantasies?

Could you have been more stupid?

At one point—just before you reached the train station— you doubled over, hand pressed meekly to your stomach. A strong wave of nausea taking over you, hot and debilitating. Running to the nearest dumpster to empty the contents of your stomach into the gutter.

Your throat burned. Your eyes stung. And for a moment, you stayed there, kneeling in the filth of the overcrowded streets of Japan. One hand braced on the wall, the other protectively hovering near your abdomen.

The station lights were buzzing faintly in the distance. You eventually forced yourself to your feet and kept walking—shoulders hunched and soaked to a feverish degree.

When you finally boarded the train people stared. 

You wrapped your arms around yourself tighter as if that could hold everything in—your pride, your fear, your breaking heart.

He just threw you out. Like trash. 

Unbothered. Maybe even– relieved.

The mere thought punches you in the gut.

You catch a glimpse of your reflection on the train window, smeared makeup, hollow eyes, a girl trying to do the right thing and getting kicked into the dirt for it.

You rest your hand gently over your stomach.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered to no one. Taking a deep breath in trying to keep your emotions at bay. “I really tried.”

—

It was 3am, as you fumbled the keys of your shared family home, fingers trembling, breath shaky. The hallway was dark, still and cold. Too quiet for any comfort. 

As you shut the door behind you, trying to go unnoticed, a voice cut through the silence.

“The hell are you doing out so late?”

You jumped. Your head snapped up.

Katsuki stood at the edge of the hallway, arms crossed, sleep-mussed hair sticking in every direction, scowling like he had any right to parent you.

“Jesus! Kats–” You took a deep breath in, calming your nerves. You blinked, caught between guilt and disbelief. “Why are you up?”

He snorted. “Didn’t feel like sleepin’.”

You raised a brow, toeing off your ruined shoes. “Uh-huh. Says the one who goes to bed at eight o'clock.” 

“Shut the hell up. You disappear in the middle of the night and come back lookin’ like a drowned sewer rat and I’m just supposed to not say anything?”

You huffed, dragging your soggy coat off your shoulders. “What are you, my mom now?”

He made a face. “Hell no. Mom wouldn’t have let you back in after pullin’ some dumbass stunt like this.”

You scowled. “I didn’t pull anything.”

He throws you a look— one of those sharp, are-you-fucking-with-me-right-now looks that makes you deadpan in silence.

“Yeah, you fucking did. It’s so obvious.” Then his prominent scowl softens just a bit. “You don’t just leave like that, not after the fight you had with Mom.”

You flinched. That word—fight—felt too small for what actually happened.

“I needed air,” you muttered, sitting on one of the stools near the kitchen counter and avoiding his eyes. He followed you. And without a word, he dug his hands into the fridge and pulled out some leftover soup from earlier– the smell of your mom’s cooking still hung around you as everything else felt like it was falling apart. 

He poured it into a bowl, heated it in the microwave, and slid it across the table to you.

“Bullshit.” 

You let out a tired sigh, still staring at the bowl. “It started raining and I didn’t bring an umbrella. Then I dropped my phone into a puddle. Spent half the night looking for it like an idiot. Found it. Happy ending.”

When you look up at him you could tell he wasn't buying a single thing that had come from your mouth. But he didn’t push, either. He just nodded once, biting back whatever he really wanted to say.

You just couldn’t disappoint him. Anyone but Kats.

With your mom it’s like she expects it from you and your dad isn’t much of a voice when it comes to arguments.

But how would you even break the news?

“So yeah, I got pregnant a few weeks ago when I marched out super angry after that big fight with mom. Went to tell the asshole who impregnated me and said he never wanted to see me again and threw me out into the streets!”

Wow. Big sis of the year, right here.

He reached across the table and nudged your bowl toward you a little more. “Eat.”

And you did. Not because you were hungry, but because he asked. Because he stayed up. Because you were tired of running from every little thing that hurt.

“Pinky swear on your stupid All Might socks you won’t tell mom?” Holding up your raised pinky at his face. Your voice cracking just a little. 

He rolled his eyes and intertwined his own pinky with yours. “Pinky swear.”

Because even if the whole world felt like it was falling apart—Kats never let go.

—

She shouldn't have shown up.

That’s all he kept thinking about.

Not the way her voice cracked when she said his name. Not the way she looked like she wanted him to be someone else. Just—

She shouldn't have shown up.

Shigaraki paced the lengths of the hideout's dark hallway, nails digging and scratching at the skin of his neck. The floor creaked annoyingly with every step he took, but he didn’t care. Let the whole place rot. Let it all fall apart around him for all he cared.

Would’ve been easier than whatever the hell… this was.

“I’m pregnant.” She said, but she never needed to. He saw it. The way her hands carefully rubbed her belly. The glimmer in her eyes.

Her hope.

Her mistake.

Shigaraki stopped moving. Stood still in the center of the hallway like someone had hit pause on him. His lips twitched—half a sneer, half a wince.

She wasn’t supposed to come back. Not after that night.

That night where both of them fell into temptation. Not after he left a note saying to never contact him again. Making sure she knew exactly what this wasn't. That it was nothing.

She was nothing.

He was nothing.

“Get the fuck out. I don’t want to see your face ever again.”

He said it sharp enough to cut her.

So why did he feel carved open now?

His hand spasmed, and a small piece of drywall crumbled to dust beneath his fingers.  He didn’t even notice he’d touched it.

“Tch.” A harsh sound tore from his throat as he turned away, yanking his hoodie further over his head like it could shield him from the thought clawing at the back of his mind.

She had been crying.

He hated that it affected him.

Even more, he hated that part of him wanted to go after her.

A/N: more exposition for this chapter :) a bit of a slow burn & angst because its tomura... tagging everyone who was waiting on part two: @rax-writes @radlightfire @pastelygrape (if you would NOT like to be tagged lmk) (if you WANNA be tagged also lmk)

[raccoon-in-the-danger-room]

Suddenly stricken by the fact that Logan and Wade both speak French-Canadian and how funny it'd be for them to argue in it whenever they wanna keep things between themselves

It's over stupid stuff too. They'll be on a mission and out of nowhere The Wolverine starts shouting at Deadpool in a language nobody can understand, shoving him and what looks like threatening to jab him in the chest with his claws. The Merc proceeds to yell back and take out Baby Knife, swinging it around hazardously and everyone is like WHOA WHOA GUYS BREAK IT UP

But the entire time, Logan was just chastising Wade because he realized he didn't grab Mary Puppins' wet kibble from the store before they left the house. And "the mission will last a day or two so she'll go without her wet food mixed with the dry which means she won't fucking eat at all and you sick fuck Wade she already looks like an emaciated rat why didn't you get the food it was your turn to go to the store and Althea is fucking BLIND so she can't go to the goddamn shop across town to get it but that's the only place that sells the only brand Mary can eat without vomiting cause Nicepool put her on a bullshit princess diet"

Wade knows exactly what Logan said. So he starts loosing it, is uncontrollably laughing now, bent over and gasping for air. Because seeing their coworkers -- whether they're from Sister Margaret’s or the X-Men -- get their panties in a twist about it because they don't know how to deescalate their deadly (but actually domestic) teammates, is hilarious. Meanwhile Logans pissed off but too embarrassed to explain the situation

[solnyshko-moyo]

nothing ever goes as planned

Prompt: you're dragged into your sisters mess when her stupid exboyfriend tries to kill himself in italy

Pairing: paul x reader x jared

WC: 6.9k

i get bored at work okay

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

The vibrations from Bella’s phone cut the quiet tension immediately. Edward and Felix both relax from their fighting stance and look over as if to say ‘Really? Right now?’ The buzzing stops and immediately starts again with a new call. Your name flashes across the screen and a sense of impending doom fills Bella. Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

“She’s just going to keep calling.” Bella glances nervously between Edward and Aro. Edward sighs knowing this is going to open a whole new can of worms. The vibrations stop momentarily before starting again. Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

Bella tenses like she’s bracing for impact when she flicks her phone open. “Hey,” she tries to say casually but it comes more across as unsure.

There wasn’t a greeting back, just a light, “Are you busy right now?” Bella knows that tone and the hairs raise on the back of her neck. She’s been caught.

“Uh… Out with… Jake.” Bella stutters out. Stupid, she should’ve said someone you aren't also friends with. She couldn’t’ve said Angela?

“Oh really? Perfect, can you ask him to come back with you tonight? I need him to look at my car.” You’re still using that tone. Bella can see the look on your face, the pinched smile, the anger in your eyes, you leaning against the counter with your arms crossed. Like a cat that cornered a mouse, playing with it before tearing it to shreds.

“Oh… I wasn’t planning on being back tonight.” Bella closes her eyes and waits for the hammer. “Because you’re in Italy right?” There it is. Bella sighs, mildly embarrassed her older sister about to start reaming her and everyone can overhear. Bella wonders how long it took Jacob to rat her out.

“Before you start-” Bella tries to explain herself but you cut her off.

“Do not ‘Before you start’ me, Isabella Marie Swan. You are not the one that woke up with twenty missed calls from Charlie. Have you lost your goddamn mind?” Your voice raises slightly over the phone and Bella knows your control over your temper is slipping.

“I can explain.” She tries again, weaker this time. “Wait. You weren’t home last night?”

“We aren’t discussing me right now. We are discussing the fact that you are pulling the same bullshit you did six months ago, so you better fucking start explaining and have a damn good reason. You don’t even have a passport, Isabella.” Bella didn’t think about that when Alice said she had everything taken care of already.

“Alice ca-” There was a loud exhale from the other line. “-me and said Edward was in trouble.”

“Put him on the phone right now.” You demand, your voice hardening with your rising anger.

Edward winces as he takes the phone from Bella. “Y/N.” He greets casually.

You don’t greet him back. “I swear on your dead mother’s grave if my little sister isn’t returned home without a hair out of place by tomorrow evening, I will tear you apart limb from limb before putting your head on a pike to use as a mailbox. Are we clear?” You growl over the phone.

“Crystal.” His mouth twitches knowing you’re completely serious too.

“Put Alice on the phone.” Edward holds the phone out for Alice to take.

“Y/N.” Alice greets a little nervously. You’re always a wild card for her, something about you causing her visions to go wrong.

You lay into her seeing red. “You ignored Bella for months but as soon as you or your family has a problem you decide you can just waltz back in like nothing happened? Dragging her to another country to help someone that left her in the woods? Did you know she was catatonic for months while you ignored her emails? Do not think I’ve forgotten about the last time she went on a trip with your family and ended up in the hospital either. Unbelievably selfish. Were you thinking at all? And you call yourself her friend? Put my sister back on the phone.”

“Please don’t tell Charlie.” Was the first thing Bella said. She doesn’t know how Alice got her a passport but she has a feeling it was through less than legal means which she can’t explain to her dad, the sheriff. “Don’t tell Charlie?” You scoff, “Isabella, he’s not the one you should be worried about. Get your ass back to Forks before I come drag you back myself.” You hang up not waiting for Bella’s reply. There’s nothing else to say.

 Aro hums as Bella stuffs her phone back into her pocket, face red. “Do tell us more about the elder Swan.” She stands up straighter at that, panic spreading like ice through her veins.

“Y/N doesn’t know anything. I haven’t told her anything about vampires.” Bella promises, she hasn’t told you anything about vampires or werewolves. You’re completely in the dark. Safe.

“Ah but you can’t be sure. Edward has expressed many thoughts of frustration not being able to read her. Or you for the matter.” Aro counters lightly, a smug smile stretching across his face. “She does pose a danger to the secrecy of our kind does she not?”

“What if she’s turned too?” Bella tries bargaining for your life desperately. Aro thinks for a moment, weighing the possibilities. If Bella could be a potential shield then it shouldn't be impossible for her family member to have a similar gift. An unattached sister more willing to join their ranks and could possibly entice Bella to follow. Edward frowns at Aro’s train of thought.

“We should take care of the loose ends now before they cause more problems.” Caius hisses from his throne, his hands tightening around the head of the armrests.

“Wait! I’ve seen it. Bella becomes one of us, I’ve seen her transformed in visions.” Alice interjects quickly. She tears her glove from her hand, offering it to Aro desperately. “And what of the elder Swan?” He lets Alice’s hand fall from his own, wondering about all the gifted additions he could have for his coven.

“I only see false visions about her but I’ll change them both myself if I need to.” Alice vows hoping that it would be enough. 

“To see the things you have seen before they have even happened? How incredible. You can see lovely Isabella but not her sister? Perhaps she should be examined before being disposed of after all. Alright. Demitri. Return to Forks and collect the elder Swan.” Aro claps his hands and grins excitedly, his mind racing with all the possibilities. Edwards jaw clicks hearing his thoughts but doesn’t comment on them. “It would do well if you inform her of Demitri’s arrival so she can make adequate departure plans. I don’t think I need to remind you to advise her of our secrecy should she need an explanation for leaving. Felix will show you to a room you can rest in until Demitri returns.”

~

Bella’s been pacing back and forth since they entered the room Felix escorted them to. Alice and Edward lounge on the plush velvet couches near some windows covered with thick curtains. Felix stands inside the room next to the door but lacks the rigidness he held in the throne room. He just casually leans against the wall flipping through a book. Bella doesn’t pay enough mind to know if he’s actually reading it or not.

“Bella, it's been twelve hours, I don’t think she’s still that angry.” Alice tries gently to calm the anxiety plaguing Bella. She saw how the phone call goes when Bella decided she’d tell her before Demitri got there. The only problem is all of Alice’s visions unfold and end differently than what she saw if you’re in them. So chances are the phone call goes well, there’s no reason for them to suddenly start being accurate now.

“You don’t know that for sure.” Bella groans, hiding her face in between her hands. “Where do I even start? Surprise, I’m dating a vampire.” She shakes her head and mutters to herself, “I’m never beating the crazy allegations.”

“I’m sure she’ll come around and believe you when Demitri collects her.” Felix adds unhelpfully not bothering to look up from his book. Bella groans again and pulls out her phone. She wished Jasper was here to get her through this confidently.

There were only a few rings before a tired, “Hey.”

“Hi,” Bella says softly, and hesitates, “Are you gonna yell at me again?”

There were a few tired chuckles over the phone. “No, probably not until you get back.”

“I would be surprised if you didn’t.” Bella cracks a smile, “You’ve always been the parent of the family.”

“Someone's gotta. Please tell me you’re on your way home. Charlie’s driving me up a wall. I’m pretty sure he’s putting bars over our windows. Total house arrest. Wouldn’t surprise me if he just moves us into the station’s double cell.” You groan, sounding annoyed just thinking about it. Bella feels bad you’re dealing with the fallout for her but grateful at the same time.

“No, not yet. I… need to tell you some things. It’s going to sound crazy but just hear me out.” Bella swallows and rocks from the balls of her feet back to her heels trying to burn off some of the anxiety building. There’s a few seconds of silence before you respond. “Okay?” You don’t sound impressed and the apprehension thick in your voice.

“EdwardisavampireandsoaretherestoftheCullens.” Bella word vomits at you, not pausing between words. Bella sighs, almost relieved but the pause, this one even longer than the first, from you immediately kills any relief she momentarily felt.

“Thats what the edgelord is calling himself these days?” You finally respond dryly, unimpressed.

“I’m serious.” Bella rolls her eyes, she knew you wouldn’t take this seriously. 

There’s a heavy sigh from the other line. “Okay, why are you telling me this?” You sound almost inconvenienced that Bella’s telling you this. 

“It’s a long story but Edward thought I was dead and went to the equivalent of the vampire police hoping they would kill him. Alice and I stopped him but they found out I was still alive. Their biggest law is that humans can’t know about vampires. They learned about you from Edward’s thoughts and are suspicious about you knowing too. They sent someone to bring you here. They wanted to kill you but agreed to offer you the same choice as me. Turn or die.” Bella rushes out, leaving out a lot of details. Mainly the one where she offered to die first and how you barely were spared a choice.

Another long, exasperated sigh blew through the speaker. “Do you understand now why I tried so hard to convince you to leave him alone and not get involved with that god forsaken family?” There was a bite to your words laced with disappointment. Bella feels like she’s just been slapped.

Bella’s jaw drops and Felix raises his eyebrows, not even bothering to pretend to feign interest in the book anymore. Alice and Edward blink in surprise, thinking back to all their interactions with you looking for any tell that you would’ve known. “Wait, you knew this whole time?” She’s shocked and a little angry.

“Bella, I've lived in Forks my entire life. Of course I knew.” Bella can feel you rolling over the phone at her. Your patronizing tone doesn’t even register over the building betrayal Bella feels.

“You never said anything.” Bella accuses, scowling. Why didn’t you say something to her?

“Neither did you. Wasn’t any of our business in the first place.” She can hear you shrug over the phone and yeah, your argument is fair. If Bella would’ve minded her own business she wouldn’t be in this mess or in a mess with Victoria. Curiosity does indeed kill the cat.

“I’m sorry.” She sighs, realizing the weight of the mess she’s landed them in. She didn’t want to drag her sister into this.

“So am I. I’m not choosing to turn into one of them.” You tell her flatly and Bella’s jaw drops again.

Felix’s eyebrows raise again, “What? Why not?” Bella asks frantically. How could you not want it?

“Bella, you've seen who I hang around with. I’ll lose my entire social circle. I’ll have to leave Forks and never see Charlie or my friends again. Becoming a vampire will literally ruin my life.” You scoff and Bella knows you're shaking your head. She can picture the deep frown on your face and she hears you exhale loudly through your nose.

Bella’s head rears back like she’s been slapped and stares at her phone for a few seconds. “Wait, you know about… the Rez?” Bella asks vaguely, if you knew about the Cullens there’s no way you didn’t know about the pack. The betrayal is back in full force, you never said anything when Jacob phased and started ignoring Bella. You just kept telling her to give him time to come around and that he’s going through a confusing time. Oh my god, it hits Bella all at once. Deep down, she knows that there’s not much more you could’ve realistically said. ‘Sorry, your new best friend found out he’s historically enemies with your ex-boyfriend and found out it was their presence in the area that caused him to phase in the first place?’ Yeah that would’ve gone over great, Bella thinks.

You sigh, again, “Yes Bella. That’s part of the reason we are getting bars on our windows.” Your patronizing tone is back like you’re talking to a fifth grader and have been waiting for her to catch up.

“What did you do?” Bella asks suspiciously. She wonders what you could’ve done that is near the scale Bella’s at.  

“Heh. About that.” Bella caught the tonal shift and can picture the sly grin on your face. You sound absolutely gleeful.

“Oh my god what did you do?” Bella’s actually a little concerned now. What could you have done that was so bad?

“More like who.” Bella can almost see your shit eating smile clearly as her brain short circuits.

Okay, Bella stands corrected, it was worse than she imagined. “What?” She shrieks, Edward and Alice shake their heads. Of course both Swan sisters are danger magnets.

You sigh deeply and Bella can hear your hair rustling the speaker. “Someone told Charlie I’m sleeping with Jared.” You sound more annoyed than angry and Bella’s jaw drops. She can’t keep up with all the bombs you’ve dropped in this conversation.

“You’re sleeping with Jared?” She asks almost disbelievingly. Jared?!

“And Paul.” You add casually still smirking at Bella hundreds of thousands of miles away. Bella’s eyes almost bug out of her head, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

She temporarily overcomes her shock, the gates opening to her flood of questions. “And Paul?! For how long? Do they know? Wait, of course they both know. And they’re fine with it?” Bella is rapidly blinking trying to make sense of this. Her mind is absolutely reeling.

“Well duh. They take me to Paris all the fucking time.” You laugh at Bella over the phone like that was the stupidest question you’ve ever heard.

The lights are completely off in Bella’s brain. “Oh. My. God.” Her brain is broken. Obliterated. Her sister. Aware. Vampires. Sleeping with not one but two wolves. 

“Yeah someone told Charlie and he freaked out. My bets on Billy or Harry. Fuckin’ snakes. I had to explain what friends with benefits are. It was terrible.” You just continue to take your sledgehammer to Bella’s already mush brain.

“Oh my god.” Bella knew her sister had her own life but she never even fathomed this. How long has this been going on?

“He went through an entire six pack before noon. Harry came and took him out fishing.” You were cackling at her now. Cackling. Bella’s mind is still spinning.

“Are you their…” She starts, wondering how this all works. 

“No.” You cut her off quickly, your jovial tone gone and replaced with something hard and guarded. “We agreed that whenever it happened for them we would stop, no hard feelings. I knew before we started screwing around I never had an actual chance.”

Bella swallows thickly, “That’s…” She doesn’t know what to say.

“Pathetic, I know.” You finish for her, the hard tone drier than before. The vampires in the room all look down and away from watching Bella, uncomfortable at the sudden change in the conversation’s direction.

Hope fills Bella’s chest, maybe you could still be convinced. “If you’re going to lose them eventually then why won’t you become a vampire?”

You sigh, “It’s not just them. I’ll be voluntarily excommunicating myself from everyone.” Bella knows you’re good friends with the older pack members. You even hang out at the Clearwater’s with Charlie on Sunday’s during baseball season.

Bella knows she’s fighting a losing battle. “You still have time to think about it. Demitri should be getting there sometime tomorrow morning.”

“Great. Just enough time to drive my car off the La Push cliffs.” You say dryly and Bella rolls her eyes.

She replies flatly, “That’s not funny.”

You sigh for what feels like the thousandth time. “Wasn’t trying to be. Talk to you later Bells. I’ve… got a lot to think about.” The line goes dead as Bella stands still, mind still reeling from the unexpected turns the phone call took.

~

You hang up the phone feeling empty. Fucking Cullens. Of course they dragged Bella into another mess. When Jared shook you awake this morning and told you Jacob said Bella left with Alice you didn’t want to believe it. Especially when he followed that up with their intended destination. And now you’ve been dragged into this mess. The mess you’ve tried your damnedest to avoid getting involved in.

Fuck you need a cigarette. You don’t even care if Charlie comes home and catches you, there’s not much more you could really do to disappoint him today. You wonder how you’re going to tell Paul and Jared. Logically you know they’ll do everything they can to protect you but you also don’t want them to get on the Vultori’s radar either, especially since they were responsible for wolves being hunted to near extinction. They’d probably wait to ambush him which in the long run probably would end poorly for Bella.

hey, i think we need to talk. You press send in your group chat with Paul and Jared before heading upstairs to get your hidden carton of cigarettes. You leave your phone on the charger wanting to decompress for a moment before having that conversation. You always thought it would be one of them that would have to break it off first, not you.  Just as you’re leaving your room you hear your phone start to buzz but you ignore it thinking it’s one of the boys. You’ll call back in five after your smoke.

~

Alice freezes on the spot, a vision clouding over her consciousness. She sees you smoking a cigarette you think no one knows about by your back door. One moment you're standing alone and the next, Victoria is standing in front of you, startling a jump out of you. She watches as Victoria snaps your neck. Your body slumps down to the wet ground like a sack of potatoes. Victoria peers down at you before stepping over you to wait in the dark house for Charlie and Bella to return.

Alice gasps out of her vision, locking eyes with Edward already dialing Carlisle’s number. “What is it? What did you see?” Bella asks frantically, Edward had just shaken his head at her mid vision as he pulled his phone out.

“Victoria. Something’s about to happen. I just saw her kill Y/N before going inside to wait for you and Charlie. She’s planning on killing you one by one. Call Y/N right now, she needs the guys over there now.” Bella’s never dialed your number so fast in her entire life.

“She’s not answering.” Bella says frantically, pressing the call button again. Edward is already on the phone with Carlisle telling him to call Sam immediately. Bella starts to hyperventilate when the phone goes to voicemail again. She dials Jake’s home phone, praying Billy answers.

“Didn’t you say your visions of her are always false? So there’s a good chance she doesn’t immediately snap your sister’s neck.” Felix adds unhelpfully again, sending Bella into a further panic. No scenario with her sister and Victoria is good.

“Black residence.” She hears Jacob’s deep voice over the line. Relief floods Bella’s veins, the hope of saving her sister renewed.

“Jake! You need to get to my house right now. Y/N’s in danger. Victoria is going to kill her.” Bella almost screams over the phone. She hears Jacob curse before the phone thuds, presumably against the wall, and Bella hears a door in the distance slam open. She faintly hears the fabric tearing off of Jacob’s body as he shifts and then silence. She hangs up and tries your phone again. Please please please, Bella thinks, please be okay.

~

The cigarette makes your head tingle with every drag you take. This was all so fucked up. You should’ve threatened the Cullens from the start to leave you sister alone. Maybe sent her off to Jacksonville. Or boarding school. Now you are losing everything and everyone you care about, no matter what you choose. Either you die and leave everyone behind heartbroken with closure or you disappear and watch grief slowly eat them alive. There’s no good outcome but at least Charlie will have peace of mind. Maybe you can ask the vampire coming to make it look like an accident. Maybe you should just do it yourself before he gets here. 

You think of Jared and Paul wondering how they would react. Surely they’d try to hero you out of it but for how long? How long until their imprints come along and their priorities change? How long can you stay hiding on the Rez before you're found out? You think of the betrayal they’ll feel when they find out your accident wasn’t an accident. You wonder if they’ll respect your choice to die by your own hand rather than someone else’s. There’s a sharp turn in the road on the way to the Cullens house, no cell reception, not frequently used since they left. It would make sense if you’re going out there to look for Bella. You’ll be found eventually and Charlie can have his closure.

A twig snaps in the distance, catching your attention and bringing you out of your depressing thoughts. There’s a red headed woman standing at the treeline looking at you and you instantly know it’s the same redhead the boys have been hunting. You raise your hand and wave at her, wondering just how much trouble you’re in. The craziest part is you aren’t afraid. Your clock is already ticking near its end so what’s a few hours? You watch her approach as you blow out your final drag and crush the cigarette butt out with the toe of your shoe.

“Bella’s not here.” You state simply when she’s in front of you. Her eyes are black pits as she stares back at you.

 Her lips quirk into a small grin. “How did you know I’m looking for Bella?” “Well, I don’t know you and I’m really hoping you weren't here for Charlie.” You laugh, wrinkling your nose at the thought of Charlie dating someone so young.

“Victoria, nice to meet you. Tell Bella I said ‘hello’ when you see her?” She doesn’t let you even open your mouth to respond before she has your head tilted back and fangs lodged in your throat. Damn, you think, I really wanted to not be someone’s dinner. Your vision goes black as the burning in your veins starts to spread from where she’s still biting you.

~

Demitri has never been so confused in all his years as a vampire. This girl’s scent trail crosses itself, zigzagging all over the place, circling back to the same spots over and over again. There’s no clear trail for him to follow. Even her tenor leads him all over the place. It’s like she disappears to a new spot every time he gets to the last spot it was in. 

He’s standing in the middle of a small stream trying to choose which scent path to follow when he hears multiple sets of feet approaching and the overwhelming smell of wet dog invades his senses. He stays in place, hands in his pockets as he tries to make out how many people are rapidly moving through the forest.

It’s not people that emerge from the trees but rather large wolves, teeth bared ready to lunge. He didn’t think there were wolves left, let alone so close to vampire territory. Well, it is the Cullens so their coexistence with their natural enemies doesn’t seem too surprising.

Demitri raises his hands in a peaceful gesture. “I’m not here to cause any trouble. I’m here looking for Y/N Swan for her sister. I can’t tell which scent of hers is fresh and I apologize if I wandered somewhere I shouldn’t be. I can call Bella if you’d like.”

One of the wolves in front nodded his head but the others remained ready to attack. They all watched him  pull out his cell phone and click a few times before the dial tone filled the silence. “Felix, can you bring me to Isabella please.” There’s a grunt, ‘it’s for you’ and some rustling before a shaky ‘did you find her?’ that has all the wolves relaxing slightly.

“Isabella. It seems I have run into your lupine friends.  No, I haven't found her. Her blood was in your home and the scent of another vampire was present.” Was Victoria still there?

“No, the vampire was in Seattle without your sister.” She’s still missing? Did Victoria say anything?

“I disposed of her, she said she turned and left Y/N so she would kill you and Charlie.” You’ll be able to find her right? Before she wakes up?

“Yes, I will find her before she wakes up.” Thank you Demitri. He hangs the phone up when Bella starts sniffling. “I smelled you at the Swan’s residence. Do you know where Y/N is?” Demitri watches one of the wolves convulse before starting to shrink. The hair recedes into his body and bones pop and shift into a more humanoid form. The muscular guy stands stark naked, his joints clicking and popping as he shakes his limbs out.

“Yes. We found Y/N shortly after the red haired vampire bit her. She was chased off the cliffs and into the water while the others moved Y/N.” The man vaguely replied, trying to not give away too much information much to Demitri’s irritation.

“Look, she can’t stay here with no guidance after waking up. She needs to be with vampires who can guide her through the newborn phase or be put out of her misery before she wakes. Whatever decision you make, I’ll leave peacefully with or without her. I have no desire to linger here longer than necessary.” 

There was a long silence and the man looked away, deep in thought. “Bella said the Cullens are returning before she left. Can she stay with them?” Of course the Cullens are returning, Demitri refrains from rolling his eyes.

“If they allow it, though, I doubt Carlisle would cast her away. When did you find her?” He really hopes she’s not about to wake up alone, confused and thirsty. 

“Yesterday afternoon. She’s in the Cullens’ house. We moved her after we found her. Figured it was far away enough to be safe.” Demitri raises his eyebrows, so she's around halfway through her transformation already.

“Don’t look so surprised. She’s not a wolf but she’s still pack. She’s our friend. Just because she’s turning into a leech doesn’t mean we are going to abandon her when she’s vulnerable. We can’t hold something against her that wasn't her fault.” The wolfman scowls at Demitri offendedly.

“I admire your sense of kinship. That kind of loyalty is hard to come by these days. She’s lucky to have you all.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “I do believe I know the way to the Cullens’ residence. Is there anyone there with her?”

“Yes, some of our packmates are there with her. They know you’re coming.” He eyes Demitri for a moment before turning and walking back into the forest. The wolves all back up into the treeline and Demitri backs up out of the creek as well, distancing himself from where they disappeared to.

~

Just as the wolf shifter has said, Demetri hears the two wolves' heart beats as he approaches the Cullen house and some music playing softly somewhere inside the house. They are waiting for him on the porch when he steps through the trees. They look similar to the man he spoke with and are in matching cut off jean shorts. They don’t look overly thrilled to see him and Demetri raises his hands hoping to keep things peaceful. He doesn’t care about whatever issues there are between them and the Cullens.

“They said you killed the red head.” The shorter of the two says eyeing Demetri.

“Yes, it’s against vampiric law to abandon a transitioning vampire you’ve sired.” Demetri wonders what Bella did to piss off Victoria so much that her sister was collateral damage. “May I see your friend?”

The two wolves eyed him for a moment, before curtly nodding. “We’ve been trying to keep her comfortable.” The taller one led the way through the house while the shorter one stayed on the porch, actively scanning the treeline for any threat that may wander too close to the abandoned house.

The girl was laid out on a makeshift pallet in the living area in a nest of pillows and blankets, the rest of the room empty except a cell phone playing the music Demetri heard softly. The two wolves have taken great care into the comfort of the transitioning girl and Demetri is again taken back by the level of kinship the wolves have for this human. He wonders which one she’s mated to. He crouches down next to her, careful not to disturb the nest around her as he examines the bite mark on her neck. It’s mostly healed but not yet scarred over so it tracks with the timeline of them finding her and being about mid transformation. The wolves must’ve changed her out of her bloody clothes, the zip up she’s wearing is clean and only faintly smells of the wolves guarding her.

“Y/N,” Demetri says softly, “you’re almost done. Just a little bit longer and you’ll be done. Your sister is safe, your father is safe. You don’t need to fight it.”

“Wait, she can actually hear everything still?” Demetri glances over his shoulder and one of the shifters is red in the face. Demetri looks at the phone and then back to the man, cocking his head in a silent question. “We didn’t know if she could or not, the Cullens never called us back. We didn’t want her to suffer in silence if she could still hear.”

Demetri’s mouth twitched in amusement, “Every transformation is different, some are more lucid than others. We believe it depends on the damage inflicted before they are bit but it’s hard to know for sure.” The man nods, flushing a deeper red. Demetri rises from his crouched position and heads back towards the entrance where the other wolf was keeping guard. He tilts his head back towards the house when the man eyes him suspiciously. Demetri leans against the pillar supporting the porch roof and the man nods curtly before heading back in to be with the girl and other shifter.

Demetri hears them whispering inside about her being able to hear them as he fishes his phone out. He sends a text to Felix asking him to tell Isabella that he found her sister and that she’s mid transformation. He takes a deep breath and sighs before dialing the reception phone.

“Gianna, I need to speak with Aro.” He waits while she scuttles to the throne room with the cell phone.

“Demetri, I did not expect a call from you. Have you found the elder Swan?” Aro inquires.

“Yes, I found her. A nomad with a grudge against the Cullens got to her before I made it to Forks.”

“Ah yes, Felix informed us earlier of the vision Alice had. How does she fair?” Demetri pinches his lips, annoyed they didn’t inform him before.

“I’d say she has maybe a day before she wakes. I’d suggest letting her stay and adapt before she visits.” Aro hums in response and while Demetri is annoyed he came out here for nothing it does beat being stuck on guard duty in the castle.

“Ah, yes, a newborn in Volterra could be a dangerous situation. Very well. Remain there until the Cullens return and instruct them to bring her by when she has a handle on her bloodlust. We would still like to formally meet her.” Aro doesn’t wait for a response before the line goes dead. Demetri sighs deeply and doesn’t let himself think about the annoyance he’s feeling.

~

Y/N must’ve been farther along than originally thought because the Cullens had not arrived before she woke leaving Demetri and the two wolves to help her. The three of them had been playing cards on the other side of the room not noticing her red eyes opening. She laid there for a moment, recalling what had happened before she fell into the fiery pit of darkness and what she had heard while in it. Victoria had bit her and now she's a vampire. Paul and Jared stayed with her while she was turning. Bella and Charlie are safe. She doesn’t know who the other man that came is but he was encouraging.

She slowly sits up, the fabric rustling beneath her but she could hear them sliding against each other clearly. All three heads snap towards her direction, the card game forgotten. Demetri places himself between her and the boys unsure if she’ll attack in her uncontrolled bloodlust.

“Y/N?” Paul asks hopefully, taking a small step towards her.

She cocks her head, her eyes unfocused as she watches the dust swirl around them in the air.. “Well who else would it be?” She snorts, snapping back into attention with a roll of her eyes and rising from her sitting position, off put that the normal pops of her joints are missing. Paul sucks in a breath when she meets his eyes, his jaw slack. She looks at Jared in confusion and hears his heart skip a beat, the same look on his face as Paul’s. 

“Jesus Christ, I can’t look that different now. Is it the eyes? Why are you both looking at me like that?” She looks between the two of them, confused and a little self conscious. She crosses her arms over her chest starting to feel overwhelmed and the burning sensation in her throat becoming unbearable.

“They must be enthralled by your beauty. My name is Demetri. We need to quell your thirst before the bloodlust overtakes you.” He turns to look at Paul and Jared, “It might be better if you stayed here, we shouldn’t be long.”

This seems to snap them out of the stupor they were stuck in, both of them immediately start protesting. Demetri holds a hand up to stop them, “I understand your desire to protect your friend but it’s for your safety you don’t accompany us. The bloodlust makes it hard to stop once started, especially for newborns. We will stick to the forest east of here to not impede your territory again.”

“Will you still be here when I get back?” She asks nervously, afraid this is the last time her friends can stand to see her now she’s a vampire.

“Of course we will.” Paul says immediately, stepping forward wanting to hug her but thinking better of it. He tries to ignore the sad smile she gives them, hoping she didn’t take him not hugging her the wrong way. They watch her and Demetri disappear into the trees wanting desperately to not be apart from her.

~

They returned a few hours later, Y/N covered in blood and with a dejected look on her face. Demetri seemed jovial and in good spirits still. He had received word from Felix that the Cullens and the human Swan had finally left Italy which means the other Cullens should be returning soon to wait for them and he can finally leave.

Paul and Jared stood up in an instant, offering fresh clothes they somehow acquired in their absence. Demetri walked past them into the house, letting them have their long anticipated conversation. From what he gathered during their hunt Y/N was their lover before she was turned. She’s afraid they’ll reject her now that she’s a vampire even though they loved her as a human.

Jared and Paul wait until you’re dressed again to step forward and envelop you in a tight hug. They rest their heads on your shoulders, squeezing you tight, their relief of not losing you overwhelming.

“We were so worried when we heard Jake say you were in danger.” Jared murmured against the ice cold skin of your neck, finding it doesn’t bother him like he was afraid it would. “We were already on our way after getting your text.”

“And then when we found you…” Paul trails off not being able to finish his thought and just squeezes you tighter, rubbing his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder. He doesn’t want to remember the worry he felt that you were going to break things off with them and then the despair of knowing you were in danger. The anguish seeing you on the ground and how they could smell your blood. How he could only chase Victoria so far until the rest of the pack took over so he could get back to you and Jared. The mixed horror and relief he felt when they realized you were transforming into their sworn enemy and the shame of being too late to save you.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” You whisper, your hands snaking around their torsos as best as you can with your arms still constricted by theirs.

“We wouldn’t leave our girl like that.” Paul didn’t stop rubbing his face against you like a pleased cat.

“You aren’t disgusted I’m a vampire now?” You ask in a small voice, the anxiety eating at you increasing when you hear their hearts thud louder.

“We meant what we said while you were transforming. We love you and we don’t want to lose you, even if that means you turn into a le- vampire.” Paul says fiercely, squeezing you again. Jared pulls his head off your shoulder and gives you a kiss on the top of your head and smiles down at you.

“I didn’t think it was possible for you to get more beautiful.” Jared grins, lightly tugging on a loose strand of your hair playfully.

“I don’t stink now do I?” You cringe, remembering them complain incessantly about how much they thought the Cullens stunk. They don’t smell bad to you, like the forest on a warm day. 

“No, you smell pretty much the same. Maybe a little sweeter like when you’re ovul- ow.” Paul rubs the back of his head where Jared slapped him. “What? It’s the truth.”

“Dude.” Jared gives him an unimpressed look. Paul just goes back to nosing your neck and you can feel the grin on his lips.

“I love you guys too, so much. I was so worried you wouldn’t want me as a vampire.” Your lip wobbles as you look up at Jared, his brown eyes full of adoration. You hear their hearts skip a beat and feel Paul’s arm tighten around you again, pressing himself against your back.

“Wanna know a secret?” Paul whispers in your ear, planting kisses along your neck while they wait for your answer.

Jared grins down at you as you nod and you hear their heartbeats quicken. “When you woke up we imprinted on you.” He smiles tucking the stand of hair he’d been playing with earlier behind your ear. His smile widens when your face lights up with surprised happiness.

All of your worries disappear. The ones about them finding their imprint and leaving you, the ones about becoming a vampire and losing them, all of them. Your boys are still your boys. You slump into Jared’s chest holding him and Paul closer to you, elated this has all somehow worked out.

[bonercoaster]

Fuckin the attitude out ya

Hey there! It's been a while since I last posted, life has been very wild. Long-story-short: moving is hard, school is hard, and life is hard, but I am alive and still writing. Here's some Frank Castle smut because why not?

WARNINGS: smut, a lil fluff, brat reader, brat tamer joel, cnc, there is a safeword and reader doesn’t want to use it because she wants it, vaginal sex, holding reader down

Frank grabs both of your wrists and holds them down with one of his massive hands while you try to squirm away from him. He’s too strong for you to break away. Frank looks you in the eye for a couple of seconds, menacingly, you know he is giving you a chance to say your safe word, but you just narrow your eyes at him trying to send as much malice his way as possible. His other hand grabs one of your knees pushing them to the side before he.........

“Nope!”, “FUCK no.”, “Absolutely not!”, “You must be outta yer damn mind sweetheart.” 

You’ve been at it for an hour, arguing with Frank about somehow taking an apprenticeship with Micro. You told Frank that it’s because Micro is one of the best, and although this may be true, the real reason is so you could keep tabs on your lover who is always somehow in perilous danger. You’re great with technology, discrete and very careful. But every time you think of another way to convince him, he just shoots you down. He’s at the kitchen table cleaning his guns while you pace back and forth offering reason after reason. 

“But baby I-” You start to plead again. 

“No.” Frank, stares you down. “I don’ give a rats ass what kind of bullshit reason you give me or how reasonable you think it sounds, you’re not gonna be involving yourself with this garbage.” 

“Frank! I’m miserable at my stupid job, and I just want a chance to learn from the best and make a difference. Is that so bad?” 

Pretending to consider and tossing his head side to side, with a faux impressed frown, Frank then says matter of factly– “Yes.” 

“UGH! You’re so infuriating, Jesus, Frank would it kill you to trust me a little?” You raise your voice at him in anger and walk away, slamming your office door and starting your work remotely for the day. 

_____ 

A couple of hours later, you hear a knock at your office door. “Come in!” 

Frank enters your office with a bag of chinese takeout and places it at the side of your desk. “Y’eat yet today, doll?” 

“Not hungry.” You glare at him, and continue typing away at your computer.

“C’mon it’s already 6 o’ clock, ya gotta eat something baby.” Frank pleads, making his deep raspy voice soft. 

“I don’t want your fucking food, Frank!” You say, raising your voice and rolling your eyes at him. He hates it when you roll your eyes at him, and you know that. You turn around and stare at your computer screen. 

You hear Frank take a slow deep breath before feeling his hands pull your office chair away from the desk to face him. “What are you doi-FRANK!” You exclaim, as he picks you up out of the chair and slings you over his shoulder easily. You kick your feet, trying to squirm free but his grip is solid. 

Frank wordlessly walks out of your office, into the bedroom, and tosses you onto the bed. 

“Fuckin the attitude out ya” Frank grunts, answering your question as he expertly disrobes the both of you in no time at all. You have a safeword for these kinds of situations, but you don’t want to use it. Instead you pound at his chest and try pushing him away from you, to no avail. Frank grabs both of your wrists and holds them down with one of his massive hands while you try to squirm away from him. He’s too strong for you to break away. Frank looks you in the eye for a couple of seconds, menacingly, you know he is giving you a chance to say your safe word, but you just narrow your eyes at him trying to send as much malice his way as possible. His other hand grabs one of your knees pushing them to the side before he sinks himself into you immediately. Frank lets out a low grunt, eyes all over you while you fight not to close your own from the pleasure. He notices your struggle, but you refuse to give in. 

“You’re real wet f’me already sweetheart”  he growls into your ear, starting to move slowly, teasing you, torturing you.

Frank isn’t shy about being loud. He grunts and growls, moans and sighs. When he starts nibbling at your neck, it all becomes too much and you can’t help but let out a small whine. 

“Atta girl” Frank teases, pounding into you harder and faster, giving you no time to adjust to his new pace. Still holding your hands above your head, he whispers in your ear “Now if I let these go are y’ gonna behave baby?” You can't help but melt at the way he said that. It’s too much, you can’t keep resisting how good this feels, you mewl, nodding your head for him, and he releases your hands which immediately reach for his body, grasping anywhere you can hold him. Still thrusting into you, Frank bends over pressing his lips against yours, thrusting his tongue into your mouth. You greedily suck on his tongue, one hand in his hair scratching his scalp. Frank’s thrusts become irregular, he’s close and so are you. Frank breaks away from the kiss, then taking both of your legs and placing them over his shoulders, you didn’t think it would be possible but he starts pounding into you even faster, setting a punishing pace that makes your legs shake and your eyes roll back. It comes in waves, pleasure overtakes your whole body and Frank cums inside of you shortly after. 

Frank crawls up the bed, pulling you with him to cuddle into his chest, softly saying “I couldn’t handle it if something happened to you.” You wrap your arms around him, pressing your face into his chest, and you squeeze him tight. “I know. I’m sorry. I love you.” 

[kaiserposting]

Michael Kaiser — Liebevoll

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 1k TYPE: Humor, Established relationship, some fluff WARNING(S): Kaiser is a cringe loser, my bad german makes a comeback (I was always on that damn phone in german class)

Since you’ve been trying to learn German (you gave some stupid excuse about how you ‘want to know what shit he talks about you when he thinks you don’t understand him’), a golden opportunity to mess with you has appeared in front of Kaiser.

Obviously being that your brainwaves aren’t completely inactive, you knew not to ask him and instead try a language app first because he’s not to be trusted.

Not possible on Kaiser’s watch, though. Nuh uh. What do you need an app for when you have a boyfriend who’s perfectly capable of lying to you for his amusement?

Your phone was dealt with (snatched and tucked in Kaiser’s back pocket, where you’d rather wretch than reach) three exercises in… So you’re still about as clueless as in the beginning. Now, Kaiser is subjecting you to his ‘tutoring’.

“When someone holds the door for you, you bow and say ‘Ich hoffe, du wirst von einem Auto angefahren.’ It means thank you, by the way.”

“Uh, that’s too long to mean thank you.” You look at him like he’s forcing you to say tongue twisters, suspicion clear in your expression.

Kaiser finds your wariness and lack of understanding really cute, mainly because he’s a condescending asshole. He reaches out to try and move your mouth as if that’ll somehow assist you in pronouncing it, but you pry his fingers away from your face before he can reach. It makes him snicker.

After a few tries, you get through that one. Then Kaiser forces you through the ordeal of sounding out that string of bullshit multiple times ‘just to make sure you really memorized it’.

Next, Kaiser says, “When you want the tab at a restaurant, you should say, ‘Kannst du auf meinen Teller scheißen?’”

“Are you sure?”

“Definitely. Why do you think you know more than me? It’s my first language.” He smiles at you in a wannabe suave manner.

Reluctantly, you repeat it back to him, more than once.

His gaslighting is almost becoming convincing with his insistence on you retaining this information as if you’re actually gaining knowledge here.

But you decide to take everything with a grain of salt, anyway, no matter how compelling Kaiser’s acting may be. You’ll try to search these up later. At least if you can manage to spell them based on what you heard.

The nonsense continues on like this:

“When a guy compliments you, you should reply with ‘Sag das noch einmal, damit ich dich ausweiden kann.’ It means thank you veeeeeeery much, by the way.”

“Does everything mean thank you according to you?!”

“Aww, that’s a really cute grumpy face you’re making.”

“Don’t dodge the question.”

Kaiser stares at you expectantly, scooting closer towards you and leaning in, his face inching closer towards yours. Disturbed (not swayed or affected at all, might you add!), you decide to comply.

He wonders what other stupid shit he should make you say. Even for a joyless and miserable person like Kaiser, it’s kinda difficult to stifle his laughter. Of course, someone as delusional as him would find entertainment in his own antics, but he’s doing a good job on not letting it show.

“After paying at the supermarket, you tell the cashier ‘Es gibt eine Leiche im Pausenraum’ and walk off immediately. It’s a social norm.”

What a shameless liar. You’re curious about what he’s making you say though, since he’s still not reacting when you repeat it back to him during this whole farce. The mischievous rat’s game is on point.

You continue to go along with it, though, since your intrigue is also making you want to learn them all so you can actually look them up after all this. In fact, you drop asking him about it regardless, pretending as if you let down your guard and believe him now.

This leads Kaiser to being more comfortable, testing the waters in a different direction, assuming you won’t think anything of it.

“You should greet me in German every time you see me as practice,” he says. “With something like ‘Du bist sehr schön.’”

Kaiser thinks he’ll think it funny because you rarely compliment him, but he finds himself liking it a little once you repeat it to him. Then he makes you say it again and again, aiming less to deceive you into thinking he’s dedicated to your linguistic education and more so for his satisfaction.

But Kaiser ignores this strange happiness. He tricked you into saying it, so it’s whatever. Doesn’t mean anything. In fact, he’d be a stupid microbe to dwell on it.

Once he strays down that part, though, it keeps escalating.

“Mit dir ist alles besser." - That’s probably the opposite of how you feel, so Kaiser finds some kind of humor in it conceptually. Then hearing is too much to his liking again.

“In deinen Armen fühle ich mich geborgen." - You’d never think something like that, god forbid you utter it out loud… What’s wrong with him? It’s supposed to be comedic. He’s pranking you! Punking you. You’re a gullible idiot!!! He like, got you so good or whatever.

"Du machst mich glücklich.”

When you parrot that one back to him with more ease, since it’s more on the simple side, Kaiser stares into your eyes with a kind of seriousness you find disconcerting. You expect him to demand you say it again so he can be sure you remember it, though the frequency of this request died down more and more with each phrase you spoke.

The silence stretches. You continue to gaze at each other with an almost bizarre confusion between you two.

Is he making you say things he yearns to hear deep down? Or is he finding an excuse to tell you things he’s reluctant to admit? Both options are pathetic and beneath him. And he also really can’t tell which one it is, either.

“Can you say it again?” asks Kaiser, more tender in tone.

“Du machst mich glücklich?”

You’re not a very affectionate couple. It’s to your surprise that Kaiser wraps his arms around you with tentativeness, like he’s skirting around something, then presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. Despite your puzzlement, you return the embrace, pulling him closer.

Now you’ve got to find out what it was to warrant all that from him for sure. Guess you’ll be utilizing speech to text later…

Ich hoffe, du wirst von einem Auto angefahren = I hope you get ran over by a car Kannst du auf meinen Teller scheißen? = Can you take a shit on my plate? Sag das noch einmal, damit ich dich ausweiden kann = Say that again so I can disembowel you Es gibt eine Leiche im Pausenraum = There’s a dead body in the break room Du bist sehr schön = You’re very beautiful Mit dir ist alles besser = Everything’s better with you In deinen Armen fühle ich mich geborgen = I feel safe in your arms Du machst mich glücklich = You make me happy I was writing a WIP with a premise I've never done before, but it got difficult to write whihc annoyed me, so I wrote this which is something that ive quite literally done before instead #StayStagnant

[anyarose011]

Bah, Humbug! {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: Realizing you are stuck over winter break in the school your father (with many nicknames such as: Rat Bastard, Colossal Asshole, or the most popular, Walleye) teaches at, you try to make the best of it. Or, at least the best you can make it with five other boys your age

Part 1 of 10 (Masterlist)

Warnings: Swearing, period typical sexism, feminism (abandon all hope ye who enter if this has to be a warning), sarcastic reader, Teddy Kountze, and casual racism (a subsection to Teddy Kountze)

You've heard of "Paul Hunham being a father figure" now I present to you: "Paul Hunham being a girl-dad and an academic rivals to lovers with Angus Tully". I became obsessed with this movie, and decide to add my own spin onto it. It's also my first time writing for Tumblr, so I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 4.8k

“You said we were going to Copenhagen this year.”

The first nine words you said to your father after he told you about the predicament the both of you were in.  He sighed, sitting on the edge of your bed.

“I know.” You haven’t heard him trying to be this understanding since…you couldn’t recall. “I don’t want to be stuck here just as much as you-.”

“-So then just say no.”

He scoffed, yet still smiled. “It’s a stupid lottery, and my name got picked.”

“Bullshit-.”

“-Hey.” He warned.

Sighing, you glanced out your window. Thin specks of snow were falling onto the already pure as white ground, cascading down the roofs of houses. At least it was snowing and would resemble somewhat of a nice Christmas.

“Can we at least do something fun?” You questioned.

“I thought you said men don’t deserve to have fun the same way they think women don’t deserve rights?”

“Do the boys you teach think the same?” You looked at him.

He shrugged. “Not really in my field of work to get to know them.”

“Wonderful.” You rolled your eyes.

Your father squeezed your shoulder. “Yes, we can have little activities that children your age would consider fun. Still, I vow to enhance their intellect and schoolwork, considering that most of them are…lackluster.”

“Does this mean that I’ll get to drag their asses in mythology trivia?”

“In colloquial terms, yes.”

That brought a smile to your face, and you got up from your bed. “I think I’ll make dinner tonight if that’s alright?” You didn’t wait for him to answer as you left the room. “Maybe pie? I know Mary taught me-.”

“-Woah, woah, woah.” He followed you out into the hallway, stopping you. “We’re not eating here.”

You blinked, the only sound forming from your throat being. “Huh?”

He sighed as if going to tell you the worst news in the world (at the time, oh boy, was it). “They’re cutting the power to the faculty housing, so we’re going to be living at the school over winter break.”

Your face drops along with your heart, shock settling in. “Say that again?”

“We’re going to be living at the school-.”

“-No I heard you.”

“Then why did you ask me to repeat myself?”

“You’re telling me,” you bring on the drama, raising your voice. “I have to lodge with teenage boys?! The cursed sex?!”

He sighed. “You won’t be sleeping in the same room as them-.”

“-I can’t even look at you right now.” You pushed past him, going back into your room and tossing yourself onto your bed.

“Countess Natalya,” he taunts tiredly, knowing you hope your melodramatic attitude would wear him down. “we don’t have a choice.”

You point at him, not bringing your face up from your pillow. “Don’t you dare bring Natasha into this, she would react the same way!”

He laughed. “You get your stubbornness from your mother.”

“I get it from my father!” That’s what made you turn and bring your head up.

There’s a silence with tenseness lacing it like icing on a cake. Paul Hunham’s sigh of frustration broke it, approaching you. “Whether we like it or not, we’re stuck here. Whether we like it or not, we’re going to have to endure the attitude of pubescent boys who, I guarantee you, even when their frontal lobes form at twenty-five, will still be inconsiderate, full of themselves, and not know what true hard work is…We don’t get to do things we want all the time, that’s the reality of the situation.”

You still wore the same, spiteful look on your face as he told you this; as if you were a little girl being told, no, you can’t stay up until midnight tonight. Then, once he was finished, the look subsided only a little.

“I hate you.” Was your reply.

He ruffled your hair. “You’re the light of my life too, Jo March.” With that, he stood up with a pleasant smile. “But no worries, I don’t expect you to deal with the inadequacy of the male testosterone.” He then left the room, and you could hear his voice echo. “Now pack your things; clothes, toiletries, your books above everything, I know.”

He still continued to ramble, but in all honestly, it wasn’t important enough to this day for you to remember. All that was going through your head, was that you were going to spend almost a month in a musty, falling apart, preparatory school, with who knew how many musty teenage boys.

It was then you started planning how exactly you’d fly to Copenhagen by yourself.

That only lasted for about two minutes when you realized that your father had your passport locked in a safe with his, and you weren’t really in the mood to lockpick that day (or learn how to for that matter). So instead, you spent the majority of the time packing your suitcase, and your father was right; your books were the most important ones you’d pack.

You didn’t initially plan on socializing with the boys, so you nearly brought your entire library of books to entertain yourself; the only thing stopping you from bringing all of it was, besides your father, the copious amounts of clothing. You didn’t quite like planning out what outfit you’d wear for each day, so it was better to be safe and bring choices.

Your father had gone ahead of you to help the Boys Left Behind (a title you wouldn’t tell anyone for a few years), settle in. Settle in being him being your father and setting the ground rules whilst running that school like the damn Navy. So, there you were, walking through the ankle-deep snow with your backpack and suitcase that was meant for Copenhagen.

The school only had a few buildings; two dormitories for the boys, a small shack for the maintenance, the chapel, and one large building consisting of all the classrooms, dining hall, infirmary, and whatever else was needed for a rich, all American boy education system.

Perhaps you’d gotten a taste of what the American Revolutionists felt at Valley Forge when you heard a voice call.

“Hey!”

You looked up from where you stood and saw five boys near the courtyard by a pickup truck. Your blood, if not already freezing from the winter snow, ran cold at the sight. The same boy yelled again.

“Do you need help, are you lost?”

You shook your head, pitching our voice up a bit higher and shouting back.

“No, thank you!”

Trying to continue on your way, you looked up again to see one of them running towards you. Cursing to yourself, you tried to keep your head low and pick up the pace, but you got to see him one he was closer to you. His face was boyish, and you first thought he was a sophomore at first. His hair to his shoulders, something you didn’t expect to see for someone attending such a prestigious school. And…damn it all, he was attractive (for a boy your age).

“Hi,” he greeted you warmly with his hand out. “Jason Smith.”

You looked at it for a moment (still a bit blindsided how someone at this school could be so genuine) before shaking and giving him your name. He shook his head, chuckling as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket.

“You’re Hunham’s daughter?”

Oh…perhaps you shouldn’t have told him that. Still, you tried to let it roll off your back and played it cool, laughing along with him. “Yeah, I’m stuck over here with you guys.”

“Well, hopefully we won’t get on your nerves too badly. Do you want me to carry that for you?” He offered.

“Oh.” You looked down at your suitcase and handed it to him. “Go ahead, thank you.”

Jason took it, and the both of you began to make your trek up the small hill with the truck. He was being a gentleman, so you decided to keep the conversation going.

“So, why’re you here?”

He shrugged. “My family usually goes skiing for the holidays, but my old man won’t let me go until I cut my hair.”

“That’s really mean of him.” You stated.

Jason snorted “You should tell him that.”

“I will.”

“Oh yeah?”

“For sure.” You went ahead of him, turning around and walking backwards up the hill. “Give me his number and I’ll give him a stern talking to.”

That only made him laugh harder. “You should study to be a lawyer; you make a great case.”

“My father said the same thing once; I just personally have a theory that all parents tell their children they’d be good lawyers because they argue with them. As if it’s not a child’s right to argue.”

“You’re well-spoken too.”

“For a woman?”

You saw panic pale his face. “What?”

A smile couldn’t help but make its way to your mouth. “Only teasing.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Scared me for a moment.”

“Yeah?” You joked, turning back over your shoulder as you felt yourself at the top of the summit. “I usually get that a lot. That’s why my da-.”

Once your eyes drifted up to see the rest of the Boys Left Behind, your words fell silent. The youngest ones, who you assumed to be freshman, you did not recognize but knew immediately they would be kinder than the two whom you already knew.

Teddy ‘I only lost because I went easy on you’ Kountze, and Angus ‘I know more than you’ Tully.

These motherfuckers.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Angus groaned.

Teddy merely blinked, as if he couldn’t believe it. “What’re you doing here?”

“She’s Walleye’s kid, idiot.” Angus pointed out. “Of course she’d be here.”

Jason looked between the three of you. “You know each other?”

With whatever self-control you had (and you barely had any), you kept calm. “They’re just sore losers I met months ago.”

Teddy rolled his eyes. “Hunham wasn’t proud of us after one test, so he called in her one day, and we had to basically go up against her in some bullshit trivia match.”

“Wait,” Jason looked back at you. “so it was you versus the entire class?”

You stood proudly. “Uh huh.”

“Lost to this dickwad of all people.” Teddy slapped Angus’ back. “We couldn’t believe she met her match; she tore apart almost everyone else in class.”

 “So then why are you acting like you did any better?” You tried your best to sound as if you were joking but were also dead serious.

He scoffed. “Doesn’t matter if I did; you still lost.”

Rolling your eyes, they soon fell onto the youngest pair, staring up at you as if in study. You smiled, holding out your hand, introducing yourself. “What’re your names?”

The one with glasses and black hair shook yours first. “Ye-Joon.”

Then the boy paler than a lightbulb and cheeks turning red from the cold. “Alex.”

“And what’re you two doing here?”

Ye-Joon spoke first. “My family is in Korea, and they think it’s too far for me to travel alone.”

“I figured it was because your rickshaw was broken.” Teddy snickered.

“What’s a rickshaw?”

You shrugged, despite knowing what it was. “Not sure, I am sure that he’s an idiot though.”

Teddy acted as if you were flirting with him. “Highest compliment I’ve ever gotten from you.”

“What about you?” Jason questioned. “You’re Hunham’s kid, but do you go to school in town or…?”

“Homeschooled.” You weren’t the one who responded. All eyes went to Agnus Tully, still smoking a cigarette and averting his eyes from everyone. “Which checks out.”

You tilted your head, hiding your growing nerves with a surprised smile. “Aw, look at that; Frankenstein’s Monster does have the capacity to memorize things.”

The only one who laughed was Teddy, and you almost wanted to take it back.

Angus just shook his head. “Look, I don’t know what kind of schtick it is to be the angry girl, but it doesn’t look nice on you.”

“Hey, leave the lady alone.” Jason stepped in.

“Lady?” He said the word as if it was foreign to call you that.

“Yes,” you agreed with Jason despite how much you didn’t want to, but your desire to humble Angus Tully outweighed your morals (a reoccurring theme for the Winter of 1970). “I’m a lady.”

“For how much you start fights, I wouldn’t call you one.”

“Ladies do not start fights, but they can sure as hell finish them.”

He merely rolled his eyes and went back to smoking. Fair enough…him not engaging only made him look like the bigger person. Still, it wasn’t worth it for you to continue beating a tall, dead, dumb, horse with curly hair.

“What’s your story?” Jason asked Alex.

“Oh,” he sounded shocked. “my parents are on a mission in Paraguay. We’re LDS.”

“Mormons, right?”

Teddy asked before he could respond. “Do you guys wear some kind of magic underwear?”

You turned to Jason and whispered as Alex went into an explanation. “I’m going to slap him into next semester the next time some stupid shit leaves his mouth.”

He tried to hide his smile. “I don’t think any of us would mind, to be honest.”

“Hey,” Teddy interrupted. “what’s with the townies?”

Everyone turned to the chapel and saw two men carrying the Christmas tree out. Agnus yelled. “Excuse me! What are you doing with our Christmas tree?”

“The school sold it back to us!” He responded. “Scotch pine, still fresh.”

The other one added. “Yeah, we’re gonna put it back on the lot. Do it every year.”

“This is the most bullshit ever.” Angus shook his head, then looking at you. “Did you know about this?”

You couldn’t even respond right away, the question was so ludicrous. “I had no idea about being stuck here with you idiots until about an hour ago, so I naturally knew the townies would steal your Christmas tree.”

“Unbelievable.” He muttered under his breath, putting out the cigarette and heading towards the main building.

The rest of the boys’ gaze drifted to you, and all you said was. “Do you think he’d believe me if I told him they worked for the Grinch?”

You were more than halfway through A Christmas Carol when you were in the room you shared with your father in the infirmary. He was chatting with Mary, the head cook and the closest woman you would have to a mother figure, downstairs, leaving you by yourself.

Not exactly.

In the next room, you knew Alex, Ye-Joon, and Angus shared one, and then Teddy and Jason. They were quiet for the most part, save for Kountze tossing a tennis ball against the wall, but it stopped bothering you after a few minutes.

 You’d read the Charles Dickens’ tale a million times, but you couldn’t help and see how many similarities Angus Tully shared with Ebenezar Scrooge. It would be a lie if anyone were to ever claim you didn’t have hobbies; what would they call you assigning fictional characters to real people?

You found yourself beginning to pace around the room the more you read. Whilst voices raising in the background grew louder, you didn’t know exactly what had been happened until you wandered in on Tully and Kountze having a fight you could only summarize as it being straight out of Lord of the Flies.

You knew how that story ended, so with one look, you turned on your heel and walked away.

Finding a quiet corner outside of the infirmary, you thought you were safe when-.

Your father yelled your name. “Could you come here, please?”

Roling your eyes, you yelled back. “You told me not to deal with the inadequacy of the male testosterone, so that’s what I’m doing!”

He called for you again, and you groaned, bookmarking where you were and marching back to the infirmary. All five boys and your father stood before you, and you leaned against the doorframe, making it known you wanted to be anywhere but there.

Paul Hunham sighed. “You wouldn’t happen to know who started this ‘Not fight’ mister Ollerman described to me?”

Your eyes drifted to Tully (for reasons, you had no idea), who simply glared back at you. You could’ve done it…lied about him starting it even though you had no idea; it’s what he deserved for being an ass you to that day, and for winning months ago.

But, where you were a bitch, you were also just.

“No,” you stated. “I don’t know.”

He thinned his lips, turning back to everyone. “All right then, we’ll do it like the Roman Legions. Absent a confession, one man’s sin is every man’s suffering. For every minute the truth is withheld, you will all receive a detention.”

“And I thought all the Nazis were hiding in Argentina.” Angus mumbled.

“Stifle it, Tully.” Your father refuted.

You shrugged (this somehow being the first time you agreed with Angus Tully). “He’s got a point; you’re breaking the Geneva Convention if you do.”

“The what?” Teddy scrunched his nose.

“Well,” Your father sighed as he said your name. “if you want to have an opinion on the matter, you can join them as well.”

“I don’t even go here!”

“Well, you’re standing under the roof right now. Now in the first of said detentions, you will clean the library. Top to bottom. Scraping the underside of the desks, which are caked with snot and gum and all manner of ancient, unspeakable proteins. On your hands and knees, down in the dust, breathing in the dead skin of generations of students and desiccated cockroach assholes.”

“It was Kountze!” Little Alex pointed to him. “Kountze started it!”

While the guilty party in question’s face had dropped, you watched as your father’s brightened. “Bravo, Mister Ollerman. Bravo.”

It must’ve off put Mary how you were smiling in the kitchen when you picked up the pitcher of water and bread as she got the platters of chicken and potatoes and asparagus.

Still, she asked. “How bad of a day was it for you to be smiling as you serve the men at the table?”

“Eh,” you began. “I would rather be on a plane to Copenhagen right now, but being stuck at this hell hole with you makes it tolerable; better, even.

Mary smiled at that. “Feeling’s mutual, Jane Bennett.”

“I’m Lizzie.” You playfully whined.

“And I can’t be bothered to finish that book.” She teased, and the two of you were beginning to make your way to the dining hall.

“Speaking of books, do you have another one I could borrow?” You asked.

“Already?” Mary sounded surprised. “I gave you that book last week.”

“And I finished it in a few days, I just haven’t had the chance to ask you.”

She shook her head as you pushed through the door out into the dining hall, holding it for her. “I’ll recommend the Bible next time to keep you occupied for longer.”

“I think I’ll stick with James Baldwin, if that’s alright.” You jested, then seeing Jason’s lips move as he asked a question, Teddy responded, and then your father spoke quite loudly.

“Consider yourselves lucky. During the third Punic campaign, 149-146 B.C., the Romans laid siege to Carthage for three entire years. By the time it ended, the Carthaginians were reduced to eating sand and drinking their own urine. Hence the term punitive.”

You and Mary set down the food, and you scrunched your nose in disgust at your father’s ‘fun fact’ while sitting beside Jason and facing Angus. It took everything in your bones not to burst out in laughter to see Teddy Kountze sitting at the edge of the table like a toddler having a silent tantrum.

“Thank you, Mary.” Your father greeted as everyone began to serve themselves. “Would you maybe care to join us?”

Oh, the look of distaste on Teddy’s face nearly made you lose it. Mary took notice immediately, and she offered a meek smile. “No, I’m alright, thank you.”

The same moment the door to the kitchen closed when she left was when Teddy turned to all of you, whispering as if it would help. “I mean…I know she’s sad about her son and everything, but still, she’s being paid to do a job. And she should be doing it well, right?”

If it weren’t for the fact you were chewing on a piece of chicken, and that your father was just two seats away from you, you would’ve given him a piece of your mind. The glare in your eyes would have to suffice.

Still, he opened his dumb mouth to continue. “But I guess, no matter how bad of a cook she is, they can never fire her.”

“Will you shut up?!” Your father hit the table so hard, silverware flew. You’d seen this rage from him before…but it still made you jump. “You have no idea what that woman has been through-!”

His gaze turned to you, and saw the look that could only belong to you in moments like that; where you stiffened yourself and hardened your eyes to look as if you did not know what fear meant. Yet, there was still an undeniable amount of terror even within those eyes you tried to have been the most fearless.

He reigned himself back in. “You know, Mr. Kountze, for most people, life is like a henhouse ladder; shitty and short. You were born lucky. Maybe someday you entitled little degenerates will appreciate that. If you don’t, I feel sorry for you, and we will not have done our jobs. Now eat.”

The boys obeyed, keeping their heads low. You felt your heart go back to itself, and as you were returning to eating, you heard an irritating voice mumble.

“Not our fault her kid was one of the poor bastards to be drafted.”

It took you three seconds to find Teddy’s foot under the table, and one for you to step on it with all your weight.

He jolted, cursing under his breath before looking at you. “The hell?!”

You feigned innocence, a potato on your fork. “Oh, was that your foot? I’m so sorry.”

Teddy’s eyes tried to burn through your skin as you continued to eat, but you barely felt them. The eyes you did feel on you were soon gone when you looked across from where you sat.

There was Angus Tully, keeping his head down as if he was a child who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

…Interesting…

What else were you supposed to think?

You finished A Christmas Carol by the time your father forced you to turn out the lights (and then confiscated your flashlight from under your bed…had to think of a better hiding spot). It always took you a while to go to sleep (still does, some nights).

As you laid in darkness, your mind would rush with the worlds you vowed to lose yourself in through the books you read. Frodo had Middle Earth, Emma had Highbury, and you had…Barton, Massachusetts.

Not even Concord like the March Sisters, just plain old Barton.

So, naturally, when your mind had tired itself from living these fantasies, and as you were about to drift off to sleep, your father’s snoring awoke you.

You hadn’t even noticed he came into the room, only when he started snoring to wake the dead. Sighing heavily, you tossed yourself out of bed, and used what moonlight coming in from the windows as your guide. Not long after, you saw that Angus and the freshmen boys drew the short end of the stick in their room choice; there were no curtains to the windows, causing the lamplights to bleed into the room, making it an unfavorable color of piss yellow.

That’s when your eyes drifted to where Jason and Teddy were; a little light peering in from their window facing the moon, and correspondingly, the other bedroom, but still quite dark. Closest to the door…a spare bed.

Yes, it was by Teddy, but your father’s snoring being fainter in that room was enough for you.

But again…it was by Teddy.

So, swallowing your pride, your eyes darted around for a solution, and they landed on Frankenstein’s Monster right behind you. Sighing to yourself, you turned back around into his room, and after thinking of what to say, you shook him awake.

He was somehow relaxed at first when he opened his eyes to see you; but that was just shock, he nearly fell out of bed when his vision adjusted.

“What the hell?!” He gasped, sitting up.

You shushed him, sitting on the edge of his bed. “I need a favor.”

He blinked, looking around to just double check where he was; nope, it wasn’t a bad dream, yep, he was still at Barton. “You appear like one of the fucking ghosts from A Christmas Carol, what could it possibly be?”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, Ebenezar Scrooge, my dad snores like he’s trying to be the Giant from Jack and the Beanstalk, and I can’t sleep in there. So, I’m gonna go sleep in the other room, and you gotta wake me up or I’m dead.”

Angus Tully stared at you as if your head had grown horns. “I have no idea what you just said right now because you woke me up at,” he turned and looked at his watch. “oh look, 1am.”

Sighing you bit back a response only because you needed something from him. “Look; I want to actually be able to sleep, and I know I won’t at all if I’m stuck in a room with my dad all night. I’ll sleep in the extra bed in the other room, and you wake me up so that none of us will be killed if I oversleep in a room with teenage boys.”

It’s more than obvious he understood, but he then asked. “Why not just ask one of the guys in the room you’re sleeping in?”

“I don’t trust Kountze with anything and Jason…”

Damn your exhaustion for not being able to come up with a good explanation besides-.

“You like him.” Angus’ face lit up with a teasing glee that unnerved you somehow more than Teddy’s entire existence did that day.

“No!” You immediately deny. “I mean, yes, but in a way that of course I like him because he’s the only one of you assholes who are nice to me. So, I don’t like like him.”

You liar.

Angus scoffed, yet his shit eating grin was still on his face. “What are you, twelve?”

“I was about to ask the same thing since you’re so interested.” You rolled your eyes.

“So why me?” He asked. “You like the freshmen, don’t you trust them more?”

“I like them and actually want them to sleep.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Sighing you said. “I’ll give you whatever you want; not whatever you fucking perve but-.”

“-I never even thought of it like-.”

“-Sure, you didn’t.” You interrupted. “But I got a friend in town, so I can always go and get you stuff. What do you want?”

He took his time thinking; so much time you were tempted to wake Mary up and beg her to let you sleep in her room (you knew she would've let you, but you didn't want to disturb her. You also never questioned your father why he didn't initially have you sleep in Mary's room; more than likely just to give her her own space). Finally, he answered.

“Chocolate and cigarettes.” The look you gave him would’ve made you laugh if you could see it. It only made him scrunch his eyes. “What?"

“That’s it?”

“I'm running out of both, big deal." He scoffed. "Am I allowed to change my mind after each time you pay me? Besides, when will you?”

You shrugged. “I can’t go out every day. I’ll see if he’ll let me the day after tomorrow, so I can stock up then. How about…every three days you wake me up, that’s when I give you stuff. Sound good?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Holding out your hand, you were surprised he shook it right away. You looked him dead in the eyes when you said. “If any of them try to do anything to me while I sleep, I’m using their own pillow to suffocate them; that goes for you too, clear?”

“Crystal.” He drew his hand away. “I won’t say anything either.”

You nodded in thanks, standing up. Before you could tiptoe to the other room, you looked back at him. “Wake me up at six-thirty; he’ll wake you all up at seven.”

When you turned your back again, he asked in an unsettled fashion. “How?”

You knew that he hated the light flooding the room for a different reason now; to see your smile of mischief before you left.