#I WANT TO JUST HEART DEATH RAY EVERY PERSON WHO COMMENTS IN MY TAGS

[childdevourer1]

There’s nothing more heartwarming than getting a flood of notifs and it’s all the same mutual <3

[mychemicalimagines]

Ray of Sunshine-Dwayne Hoover-Chapter 7

Summary: Seventeen-year-olds Dwayne Hoover and Tyler Walker (or Ty as she’s affectionately known in the Hoover house) have been best friends since they were born. His mom and her mom are best friends too, so they had every chance to be together. They only have each other and are madly in love. However, the other person doesn’t know about their friend’s feelings. Will a chaos filled trip to California for his little sister’s beauty pageant allow these feelings to surface and let the childhood friends become more or will the the inseparable duo keep them bottled inside, not wanting to risk that cherished friendship that’s always been a little more?

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Language, Talk of Underage Sex, Mentions of Attempted Suicide - not by Dwayne or OC, Fat Shaming of a Seven Year Old, Absent Parent, Death of Character - Not Dwayne or OC, ALL Warnings for the movie apply to this series!

Words: 3,904

A/N: Here’s another chapter! There is one more chapter after this and I hope you enjoy. This is the chapter everyone is waiting for! At least I want to know what you think of this part!! Comments are golden for me!

To Be Tagged in the last chapter: Comment, Message Me, Submit an Ask or Tag Yourself In My Bio!

Third Person POV

It’s only been about an hour since Olive’s innocent question and the bus has been in complete silence ever since. She had gone back to her music so everyone has been staring out the windows, or in Tyler and Dwayne’s instance, trying not to fall asleep. Now, sitting with both feet on the floor, Dwayne has his head against the window while hers is on his shoulder. 

Suddenly, Richard yells out as he slams on the horn. 

“Hey! Son of a bitch!”

Dwayne and Tyler look toward the front as Frank speaks up. 

“What happened?”

“He cut me off!” He snaps, throwing his hand toward the windshield.

After a second, the horn continues to honk, even though he isn’t touching it. He smacks the wheel slightly, but it continues to make noise. He wiggles the horn and even tries to pull the horn button up but it just makes it louder. 

“Just leave it.” Sheryl says, looking over at him. 

“It’s stuck or something.” He says before groaning, wanting the loud noise to stop. 

Dwayne sits up straighter and leans toward his girlfriend to look past his uncle's head toward his stepfather, confused as to what’s going on. His mother leans over and tries to reach under the steering wheel.

“Maybe if you pull it…”

“Nah, just leave it. We’ll fix it when we get there.” Richard says, smacking the wheel again.

“Okay, fine.” She says, crossing her arms. 

Tyler raises an eyebrow and looks up at Dwayne who shakes his head slightly, wrapping an arm around her. Richard takes an exit and continues to drive when a loud siren is heard. He looks into his rearview mirror and groans loudly.

“Oh, Jesus! I’m being pulled over!” He says to his family as the police officer waves to the side. “Here we go. Everyone, pretend everything is normal. Like-like everything’s normal here.”

Richard parks the bus and glances at his family. Dwayne immediately unwraps his arm from around Tyler and takes her hand, knowing she’s gonna be nervous. When the officer approaches the bus, he knocks on the window, the horn continuing to go off every few seconds. He knocks on the window, forcing Richard to roll it down.

“How’re you folks doin’?” 

“Fine.” He says nervously as the horn honks slightly. “Sorry!”

“Having trouble with your horn?”

“Huh?” He asks, as the horn blares in his ear. “Oh, yeah, a little.”

“Would you step out of your vehicle?” The Officer asks, stepping back slightly.

Richard glances at his wife before opening the door, stepping onto the gravel below. The family can’t hear what they are saying but the officer has Richard put his hands on the window beside Tyler and Dwayne’s heads. She looks over at him and hears something about ‘Not Illegal’ before the Officer opens up the trunk. 

Sheryl’s heart sinks for a moment but the Officer bends over and picks something off the ground that had fallen out. 

“Sir, would you come back here?” They all hear.

Tyler turns her head slightly toward Dwayne to be able to hear what the officer is saying but they’re both whispering. The sheet Grandpa is wrapped in is in clear view of the officer but he’s distracted, paying attention to what had fallen out. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna bust you.” The officer continues before looking up at the family. “Cute family.”

He waves causing Sheryl to smile slightly as she waves back at him, confused as to what’s going on.

After a few more moments, the officer goes back to his motorcycle and allows Richard to close the trunk after throwing whatever the officer found inside. He gets back into the bus and puts his head down, sighing to himself in relief.

“What happened?” Sheryl asks, watching her husband.

“I’ll tell you when I regain consciousness.” He says, watching the officer drive away. “Frank. Dwayne. Ty. Get out and push.”

Doing as he said, the trio gets out and walks to the back of the bus. Richard starts the vehicle before getting out himself, along with his wife. The five of them start pushing the bus, ready to get back on the road. After a few minutes, after making sure that Olive was listening to her music, Richard begins to tell them what happened. 

Turns out, the bag that Frank had given Grandpa the day at the gas station before had porno magazines. The officer found them and thought they were Richard’s. However, in the pile of female magazines was one male porno magazine, belonging to Frank, forcing the officer to think it also belonged to him. 

The officer let him get off with a warning to get his horn fixed and let him go. It’s been about an hour since and they are getting closer to the pageant. The horn honks in occasional spurts but everyone has chosen to ignore it, knowing there was nothing they could do until they got back home to Albuquerque. 

Tyler is smiling at Dwayne and Olive as she gives him an eye test that she had taken from the hospital earlier that afternoon. She’s pointing at each letter E, allowing him to point his finger up, down or sideways to correspond with the rotation of the E.

“Redondo Beach, 46!” Sheryl says, looking at the sign on the side of the road. 

“It’s 2:15. Might be a few minutes late.” Richard says, glancing at his watch as he drives. 

“Richard, they said 3:00 sharp. They were very explicit. We can’t cross these people. Trust me.” She says, glancing at him. 

“20/20 vision!” Olive tells her brother before calling out to her mother. “Mom! Dwayne has 20/20 vision!”

“I bet he does.” She says, continuing to look for signs. 

He smiles softly before glancing down at his girlfriend who playfully claps with her own large smile. He blushes slightly before looking out the window. 

“Okay, now I’m going to test if you’re colorblind.” Olive says, pulling out another pamphlet. “What’s the letter in the circle?”

Tyler looks at her to see a large red circle with a green A inside. Dwayne looks at her before shrugging slightly. Tyler can see it perfectly but her boyfriend cannot. 

“No, inside the circle.” Olive points toward the paper in her hands. “Right there.”

Frank turns around, looking at his nephew, slightly confused. 

“It’s an A.” Tyler says, taking the paper from Olive, trying to point it out to her boyfriend. 

“It’s bright green.” Frank says, watching him for a moment. 

Dwayne shakes his head again and takes the paper from his girlfriend, trying to look at it closer. 

“Can’t you see it?” She whispers, watching him. 

He shakes his head slightly, confused on what is supposed to be on this paper. 

“Oh, man.” Frank whispers and sighs to himself.

Dwayne hands the pamphlet back to his girlfriend before pulling out his notepad. He scribbles one word down before showing it to his uncle, confused.

‘What?’

“Dwayne, I think you might be colorblind.” He answers, looking down slightly. 

He watches him for a moment before shaking the notepad, asking him the question once again. Frank licks his lips and glances toward Tyler, who is just as confused as he is before answering his nephew, sadness lacing his voice. 

“You can’t fly jets if you’re colorblind.” 

Tyler gasps softly, covering her mouth, shocked by the news that was just laid upon them. All the research, all the training, all the planning that Dwayne had done since he was a child…has all gone down the tubes. Dwayne stares at his uncle for a moment as realization hits him. He drops his notepad onto the seat, thinking for a moment before turning toward the window.

He punches the side of the bus almost as hard as he can, causing his girlfriend to gasp in fright, not knowing he was going to do that. She scoots back to the other side of the seat, running her hands through her hair as her boyfriend continues to punch the side of the bus. 

“Okay, we have a little…” Frank starts to say toward Richard and Sheryl. “We have an emergency back here!”

Dwayne turns in his seat even more, putting his back toward his girlfriend and grabs onto the seats before kicking the spot he’s been punching. Tyler squeals slightly, moving as close as she can to the window, causing Frank to get worried for both kids, despite knowing he would never hurt the young girl beside him.  

“I think we need to pull over!!”

Sheryl turns completely around, confused as to what’s happening. 

“What’s the emergency?!” Richard calls back but Frank continues to yell.

“Pull over!!”

“We’re gonna be…” He starts. “Dwayne just calm down!”

“Dwayne, it’s okay!” Sheryl tries, noticing her son is freaking out, now shaking the seat her brother and daughter are in. 

“We’re gonna be late as it is!”

“Richard! Just pull over!” Sheryl snaps, watching her son.

“But!” Richard tries again but Tyler yells toward the front. 

“Pull the fuck over! We have an emergency!”

“Okay!” He yells over everyone.

Dwayne starts smacking the top of the seat, freaking out even more.

“Can you get him to pull over?!” Frank yells, worried for his nephew.

Everyone, excluding Dwayne, are yelling over one another, waiting for the vehicle to be pulled over. The young boy is now smacking the roof of the car before turning toward his girlfriend, ready to jump out of the moving vehicle. 

“Pull over!” Tyler screams, pushing on her boyfriend’s chest, trying to keep him in the seat. 

Frank grabs onto his arm, helping the teenage girl hold him back.

“Just wait one minute.” He says, trying to help her. “Stay seated.”

“This better be good!” Richard yells back before pulling into the breakdown lane beside the highway. 

Before they are barely even stopped, the teenage boy jumps over his girlfriend and opens the sliding door. Running down the hill on the side of the road, grabbing at his hair angrily, Dwayne screams as loud as he can. 

“FUCKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!” He skids to a stop, still screaming. “Fuck!”

Everyone gets out of the bus, watching as he falls to his knees thirty feet away. He buries his hands and face into the grass, shrieking like a heartbroken animal.

Tyler bites her lip, trying not to cry as she watches her boyfriend sobbing into the grass.

“What happened?” Sheryl asks her brother.

“He’s colorblind. He can’t fly.” He admits, watching his nephew. 

“Oh, Jesus. Oh no.” She whispers, running her hands through her hair. 

Richard glances at his watch and starts pacing, slightly agitated. He knows this was the boy's dream but they’re been on a time restraint. Not being able to hold back after hearing him sob as he falls to his butt, Tyler starts sliding down the hill, trying to keep her balance. When she gets to the flatter area of the grass, she starts running toward him.

Sliding across the dirt in front of her boyfriend, she immediately wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him into her. Knowing it’s her, Dwayne wraps his arms around her waist and starts sobbing into her shoulder. Manerving to her knees, she holds him close, putting her face into his neck.

“It’s okay.” She whispers. “We’ll figure something out.”

He sobs even harder, holding her tightly against him. 

“Dwayne…” They hear Sheryl say behind them but neither of them look up. “Honey, I’m sorry.”

He continues to ignore her as he sniffs into his girlfriend’s shoulders. All he wants right now is to hold her and cry, knowing his dreams, besides his future with her, is completely trashed. 

“Dwayne, come on. We gotta go.” Sheryl tries again but Dwayne shakes his head. 

“I’m not going.” He mumbles loud enough for her to hear.

“Dwayne…”

“I’m not! I don’t care. I’m not getting on that bus again.” He says, sitting back slightly, looking at his girlfriend’s puffy eyes. 

“Dwayne, for better or worse, we’re your family…” His mother says but his head snaps toward her.

“You’re not my family.” He says, standing up, leaving Tyler kneeling on the ground behind him. “I don’t want to be your family! I hate you fucking people! I hate you!” He screams, pointing at the group still beside the bus before pointing at them individually. “Divorce! Bankrupt! Suicide! You’re fucking losers! You’re losers!”

He deliberately left out his girlfriend and his sister, knowing they’re the only two people in this group who love and care about him. His mother steps toward him but he shakes his head and holds his hands out, stopping her. 

“No. Please. Just leave me here, mom.” He softens his voice, shaking his head with each word. “Please, please, please…”

He turns away from her and sits in front of his girlfriend who is still kneeling down into the grass, biting her lip. He gently pulls her into his arms, holding her close to his chest, needing her comfort. She falls to her butt and wraps her arms around his waist, sitting between his legs. 

“Just leave us here…” He mumbles into his girlfriend’s hair. 

Sheryl sighs softly and watches them for a second before turning back toward the road. As she walks away, Dwayne sighs softly, his voice cracking again.

“Shit.” He whispers, holding Tyler as close as he can.

“We’ll figure something out.” She whispers, rubbing his back. “If you stay, I stay.”

 Making it back to the road, Sheryl runs her fingers through her hair. 

“I don’t know what to do….”

“It’s getting late. Can somebody stay here with them?” Richard asks, glancing at his brother-in-law.

“I’ll stay.” Frank says, watching the couple in the grass.

“Oh, that is not happening.” Sheryl shakes her head, turning back toward them.

It’s silent for a second before Richard shakes his head, glancing at his watch.

“Well, uh, I’m just worried about the time and Tyler isn’t helping fast enough.” He mumbles, anxiously. 

“You don’t expect his girlfriend to make him pop up after something like that, Richard!” His wife snaps slightly, biting her lip.

“Girlfriend?” He raises an eyebrow before shaking his head. “Forget it. Olive, you wanna try talking to him?”

“No, Richard. There’s nothing to say. We just have to wait.” Sheryl looks at her husband, not knowing her daughter is already climbing down the hill. 

Trying not to fall in her cowboy boots, Olive walks down to her brother and his girlfriend. Squatting down next to them, she hesitates for a moment but wraps her arm around his shoulder before leaning her head against him. No one says anything except a small scoff comes from Dwayne. After a minute or two, he kisses Tyler’s head before letting her go.

“Okay…Let’s go.”

Olive stands up first with Dwayne following. He then puts his hands out to help his girlfriend up. Together, the three of them walk back toward the highway. When they make it to the hill, Olive starts slowing down, having a little trouble. Dwayne and Tyler both take one of her hands in their own before picking her up and carrying her to the road. 

When Olive rushes to her mother, now safe from the hill, Dwayne looks down at grass, taking his girlfriend’s hand into his. 

“I apologize for the things I said. I was upset. I didn’t really mean them.” He says in a monotone voice, disappointed in himself. 

His mother sniffles before smiling. “Let’s just go.”

After getting the bus back onto the highway, Dwayne lays down in the back seat, his head on Tyler’s lap.

She starts playing with his hair, looking down at him. He licks his lips and sighs, looking into her eyes. No one says anything, especially not these two. All he can think about is how his future is ruined. 

He had everything planned out, even before he asked her out last night.

Ask Tyler out…Check.

Move in with Tyler…

Join the AirForce…

Become a Test Pilot…

Marry Tyler…

Have a few kids…

Retire…

But two of those things are now ruined and it might fuck up the rest of his plans. He’s just praying that Tyler isn’t disappointed in him. Tyler is thinking the complete opposite. She’s thinking of different ways for him to fly. Yes, he wants to be a fighter jet pilot but maybe with his colorblind-ness, he can fly something else. 

No matter what he does in their future, she’ll always…always be proud of him. Kissing her hand, she gently taps Dwayne’s forehead causing a small blush to appear on his cheeks. She smiles softly at him and he reaches, taking her hand into his, lacing their fingers on his stomach.

As they get closer to the hotel, everyone but Dwayne and Tyler are freaking out about where the hotel was and the time restraint. Richard is weaving through traffic, trying to make sure not to hit anything as they look for signs. 

“2:58!” Frank says, looking at his watch.

“Alright, everyone, look for the exit, okay?” Richard says, looking around the interstate. 

“Okay! Here! Here’s the turn off! Turn in here!” Sheryl chants, pointing to the right. 

Dwayne sits up next to Tyler, knowing they’re going to be parking soon. 

“Okay, can anyone see the Redondo Suites?” Richard asks.

“There!” Olive practically shouts. “There’s the hotel!”

“There it is! There it is, Olive!” He says, smiling back at her. 

“Little Miss Sunshine!” She starts chanting excitedly.

“We’re gonna make it! We’re gonna make it!”

She stops chanting and smiles widely, looking out the window. As they drive around a bend, the hotel is in the distance, but they don’t see how to get there. Richard voices the question to his wife, confused. Olive and Sheryl begin to yell over him about passing the building but there was no way over there. 

It was a one way street. 

“Richard, there’s parking lots on the right!” Frank yells over there, hoping he can hear him.

He in fact does and turns right when the trees open up. They are going to fast at this point and drive straight through a boom gate, breaking it into pieces. 

“I can’t slow down! I’m in third gear.” Richard explains to his wife who is freaking out. “Frank? Time?”

“Uh, 2:59!”

In the distance, they can see the hotel and smiles appear on Olive and Richard’s faces. 

“It’s a straight shot from here, honey! We’re gonna make it!”

Suddenly, they get to a dead-end, forcing Richard to turn the wheel strictly to the right, making a U turn. Sheryl and Olive start screaming about how they need to turn around and how they made the wrong turn somewhere. From the force of the U turn, Tyler slides hard into Dwayne, not knowing the turn was happening. 

He flies into the side of the bus but he grabs onto her, making sure she doesn’t hit her head. Richard, yelling about how he isn’t turning around, continues to make his turn before driving forward through a chain and going over into the sidewalk, making sure not to sit pedestrians. He drives, trying to concentrate when he sees the hotel sign.

“How do we get in there?!”

“There! Right there!” Sheryl points as they drive by.

He immediately drives to the left, making another fast U turn, forcing Dwayne to fall into his girlfriend. 

“Hold on! One more!”  

He immediately makes another left, driving into the parking lot of the hotel, screeching to a halt. Frank jumps out of his seat and throws up the door, which it slams into the end of the track and derails. The entire door falls off the side of the bus and onto the asphalt. He pays it no mind as he instantly starts sprinting across the parking lot.

He only stops for the automatic doors and follows the signs to the 2nd floor. Richard, Olive and Sheryl take off after him, leaving Dwayne and Tyler in the bus. Frank runs down a hallway and finally makes it to a big carpeted hotel lobby. He looks around breathlessly, bypassing all the little girls wearing poofy dresses and caked in makeup. 

He speeds up his walk when he sees a woman beside the registration table.

“Hi, we’re here to register!”

“I’m sorry, we’re closed.” She smirks at him as she puts a couple folders into a box. 

“Uh, no. We have the entrant right here.” He says, gesturing to Sheryl and Olive who are panting from their run, smiles on their faces. “We just want to check in.”

“Registration ended at three.” The woman says, looking at him.

“It’s three now.” Sheryl says, looking at her watch.

“No.” She says, smirking as she points to the clock, which reads 3:04.

“Oh, have a heart. We’re four minutes late. We just drove all the way from Albuquerque.” She says, practically begging. 

“Then you should have been here by three.” The Official says, walking around, gathering supplies. 

“Wait, wait, wait. There must be some way we can work this out. Please.” Richard says, walking around the table as he arrives.

“Everyone else was here before three. I’d be giving an unfair advantage…”

“We’re not asking for an advantage! We just want her to compete!”

“Don’t yell at me, sir.” She glares at him slightly. “I didn’t make you late. We’ve settled on the schedule of the show and we’ve turned off our computers. Our lineup is finalized and I have a hair check to do. I’m sorry you’re late but I can’t help you.”

Richard gently grabs her hand and kneels down on the floor. 

“Please.” He begs softly. “You don’t know what we’ve been through…”

“Uh, Ms. Jenkins?” A male voice says. “I can put ‘em into the system.”

“Oh, Kirby, you don’t have to.” She says, pulling her hand from Richard’s. 

“No, it’s okay. It’s five minutes.” He shrugs. 

“Well, it’s your time.” Ms. Jenkins says before grabbing her box. “Excuse me.”

“Thank you, Kirby.” Frank says, sighing in relief. “Thank you very much.”

“Really, you don’t know what this means.” Sheryl smiles at him. 

“Please.” He shakes his head as he boots up the system. “It’s five minutes. I ain’t working for these people next year. These people are crazy. So, what’s your name?”

“Olive.” She smiles.

“That’s a nice name.” He says, typing it into the system. 

Sheryl looks up, glancing around for her son to see him and Tyler walking in, holding hands, looking slightly disheveled from the car ride. Before she can speak to him, Olive pulls on her hand.

“Mom! Mom, look! It’s Miss California!” 

She looks to where her daughter is pointing to see a pretty woman sitting at a table, signing photos for kids. 

“Look! It’s really her!”

“Do you want to say hello?”

Olive nods fast and starts walking over with her mom, who leaves the rest of the checking in to her husband. Tyler glances around at all the kids, nervously. 

“Dwayne…” She whispers, causing him to look down at her. 

All the kids are practically miniature barbies with expensive clothes and hair. All of them are several inches shorter than Olive, who is in mini shorts and cowboy boots. 

“I don’t like this…” She continues her thoughts.

He shakes his head, silently agreeing with her. 

“Come on.” Frank says, patting his shoulder as he approaches them.

[jeonjcngkook]

try sleeping with a broken heart | myg (m)

➵ pairing: yoongi x female reader

➵ genre/au: lovers to exes, riddled with angst, smut

➵ wc: 15.7k

➵ summary: love is such a tainted thing. just because people say that they love you doesn't mean they really do. maybe once upon a time you really did love yoongi. but in the cold, dead, still of the days, you're reminded that love is now merely a myth between you both and you need to escape from it as fast as you can.

➵ warnings: no happy ending, funeral, heavy mentions of grief, depression (although not specifically stated, its behaviourally evident), post break up conversations, talks of breaking up, alcohol consumption, broken family, broken marriage, divorce, mention of character death (child - read at ur own risk), passing comments of ocs caesarean section scar, conversations about past infidelity, broken hearted yoongi

➵ smut warnings: kissing, biting, love bites, hair pulling, fingering, nipple pulling, nipple biting, spanking, oral (f rec), light petting (m rec), asphyxiation, spitting kink, use of a belt for wrist restraints, squirting, clit biting, protected sex, unprotected sex, yoongi crying when having sex

➵ note: this is my submission for the Anti-Romance Club collab hosted by @astramoonchild & @rockwithwoo. banner by @hobeemin. betaed by @sugakookitty @kth1, @hobeemin, @jessikahathaway​

➵ note 2: tumble kept removing this story any time i added tags, so now that im back from my holiday, im adding them in now.

“Welcome to the anti-romance club, a place dedicated to those who have had enough of hopeless romantics and happy endings. Come and join us to show the angsty side of love, the sorrow and melancholy. We want to bring the heartache this Valentine's Day because sometimes love hurts.”

masterlist | playlist | feedback

When you experience loss for the first time, you are never told how to prepare. When you experience loss for the first time, you’re never told how to, not only, handle it yourself but also handle those around you. The grief is uncontrollably tangible. It finds the smallest cracks and seeps through, filling any empty space it finds, and then eventually it completely takes over until it is all you know.

Then comes the funeral. Where countless faces of friends, family members, and peers all gather together to share and sympathise their loss. Yet it all feels so meaningless and does next to nothing to soothe the hearts that have been shattered by devastation. The only person there to mutually share your heartbreak is Yoongi. 

In the midst of a sullen grey drizzle that seems to have taken over the whole city that day, Yoongi was the only ray of sunshine among grey clouds to hold not only your hand but your broken hearts throughout the service. He didn't say anything, though, and he didn't need to. You both feel the same way. Words are futile and wasted. But in all honesty, he doesn’t need to say anything, because words don't mean anything. Not anymore.

The worst part of it all are eulogies. They simply do nothing to soothe and aid the emotions of those standing closest to grief. Eulogies end up being empty words and even emptier promises of staying in touch with the bereaved. They serve no other purpose other than to satisfy and fill in time of a formalised event that happens at funerals whilst others let tears freely flow down their cheek, wishing that it would end.

But it never truly ends.

The casket is closed, something that you and Yoongi can only be thankful for. Right? Maybe it is better that way? Maybe not seeing the face of your lifeless daughter on what can only be described as the day that no parent ever imagines going through. And though you and Yoongi cry, you both clutch at each other in front of those nameless faces for the sake of comfort.

Why? Why, of all people, did it have to be your baby girl? The one who brought joy and light to so many people's lives with a single smile. The same smile you would see every single day from her doting father. As you and Yoongi have iron clad grips on each other in the front row of the service, for a moment you will yourself to believe that there is indeed a God, so you can thank them for taking her pain away and bringing your baby girl peace.

In the end, though, you and Yoongi are chauffeured back to your own house, miserable and quite literally drained of life.

It doesn’t feel right calling it home anymore. A home is meant to be filled with joy. A home is meant to be filled with love, and yet this home is so empty and cold and void of any happiness.

When you experience loss for the first time, there is no handbook on how you should mourn. Do you accept the pain or do you simply let it fester inside of you and allow it to consume you wholly? How do you adjust to living in a world without the one you have sorely lost?

And when all is done and when the coffin is laid in the ground, the people around you suddenly disappear to get on with their own lives. They venture off home to hold their own children close, embracing them closely as they push you and your broken family to the back of their own minds - wishing and praying that they never endure the same pain you have.

Nevertheless, it’s you that’s left in a state of numbness. The loss is acknowledged but yet life just… Continues.

Knowing that you’re never going to see your daughter smile, or hear her sweet giggles as she dances around the living room in pink tulle dresses and plastic tiaras on her head does nothing but tear your heart and leaves you shattered from the inside out.

You’re never going to be able to watch her grow up and live life in what was such a beautiful world before she left. Her first day at pre-school where you’ll never know if she’ll cling onto the legs of her parents and beg them not to leave them or let go of your hand with confidence and never look back, for her to come home afterwards and share with you and Yoongi her stories about the friends she made on her first day.

You’re never going to watch her fall in love for the first time and be absolutely smitten with them and you’re never going to be able to see her experience her first heartbreak, where she’ll cry and cry and cry and beg for her father not to hurt the person who shattered his little girl's heart. There will be no experience of her blowing out the candles of her sweet sixteen birthday cake, going to prom, or getting married.

It’s all been taken away from you.

It’s not the same. It never would be. The absence consumes every room. The warmth that had once enveloped both yourself and Yoongi in your bedroom had turned frigid and meaningless, waking up to usually an empty bed as he would disappear for work earlier than you would wake up.

Granted, when you woke, it would still take you hours to attempt to leave your bed and do something other than wallow in your own feelings. The thought of filling your days with small activities to pass time and purposeless chatter with others who teeter and walk on edges around you isn’t something you want to throw yourself into. Even in your own house, kitchen conversations over hot sweet coffees turned into a dull silence filled with bitterness.

This morning is not any better as you lay in bed on your own, clutching at the blanket and pulling it towards your face to blanket yourself from the world outside you. You lie there for what seems like forever as you stare up at the ceiling completely void of any emotion. Rubbing your stinging eyes and wince at the raw skin underneath your eyes as you attempt to remove the remaining droplets of stray tears that had woken you up from your restless slumber.

Getting out of bed is always hard. That initial feeling of your toes touching the cold hardwood flooring always makes you shiver, and today is no different. You grab at the bathing gown you keep hanging on the back of your bedroom door and saunter along the hallway of the upper house, stopping short as you reach the closed door of Mi-Cha’s bedroom.

Your hand grips the handle of the door and you lean your forehead against the white wooden opening for a brief moment before pulling on the lever and letting the door swing open in front of you.

The absence of life in the room is palpable. You take in the periwinkle and white stained walls that had taken you and Yoongi months to decorate. From picking out colours, furniture, toys, paintings, and murals — happy memories are now overshadowed by sorrow.

You step into the room and let your feet sink into the plush grey carpet as you find yourself standing over the little single princess bed with the white light up string lights attached that she held the biggest fuss for. You chuckle for a split second as the images of Mi-Cha sulking in the arms of her father consumes your mind. Mi-Cha hated the dark and would never fall asleep without her little yellow star shaped lights on and her daddy next to her bed reading a bedtime story to drift her off to sleep.

You sit down on the white comforter and pick up the tiny pillow and bring it up to your nose, inhaling and finding the faintest of scents of her strawberry shampoo that you and Yoongi would bathe her in. Your arms wrap around the Egyptian cotton and you close your eyes, letting your mind take you away and flutter down memory lane all over again.

The pitter patter of small feet on the mahogany wood floors and the sound of sweet giggles resonates throughout the living room as you sit at the kitchen island and sip on your sweetened coffee; The sound of your daughter's laughter is like a choir of melodic angels as Mi-Cha has her daddy playfully rolling around and pinned to the floor as he tickles at her sides, prompting the beautiful sounds.

Your daughter lifts her eyes towards you and gets up from Yoongi's lap, making her way over to you. She begs for your attention with grabby hands up, silently asking you to bring her into your lap, and so you do exactly that, attaching her to your hip and allowing her to snuggle into your neck.

Mi-Cha was the spitting image of her father. Her brown eyes held the same warmth Yoongis did. The kind that draws you in and has you instantly wrapped around her tiny fingers. Her pale skin is delicately painted with rosy hues from the laughter leaving her lips and a tiny smile which is a true replica is one that grows and thrives like flowers in spring.

“Mommy,” your darling daughter coos, “do you know how much daddy loves you?”

You stare at Yoongi and watch as his skin flushes a light hue of pink at your daughter's question.

Mi-Cha moves her head out of your neck and places her hand on your cheek, replicating the touches that Yoongi places on her own cheek from time to time. “He tells me he loves you lots all the time. And me!” She smiles.

You can’t help but get out of your chair with Mi-Cha in your arms and find yourself sitting beside Yoongi on the floor, loosening your little girl in your arms, allowing her to waddle out of your hold. You turn towards Yoongi and place a tiny kiss against his jaw. 

“Does he really?”

Mi-Cha falls back into the arms of her doting father and taps his nose and both his cheeks before giving him a peck on his cheek, ignoring your question. It really is like that sometimes. Mi-Cha was the biggest daddy’s girl. And Yoongi takes it all in, allowing her to wrap him around her dainty little fingers, spoiling her to no end.

Yoongi turns to you and presses his lips against your own sweetly. “Always, my love,” he confirms. Looking back at the little human in his arms, you watch as his eyes glimmer like stars. “I have everything I’ve ever wanted right here.”

The memories of the three of you together never seem to get any easier. It’s like they live to taunt you. Everything in this house is a constant reminder of what you don’t have and won’t have anymore. Tears come thick and fast as your mind is plagued by pictures of her face. You crawl off the bed and slump yourself to the side, keeping your back pressed against the structure of the furniture and tuck your legs into your chest. The trembling of your limbs is barely noticeable to you anymore as anger and denial consumes you whole. Your head falls against your knees as quick and painful breaths get caught in your throat.

Scanning the room around you, you take in your surroundings in more detail. Neither you or Yoongi had it in you to move any of the personal items that had belonged to your tiny toddler, opting to keep it as is. Is that healthy? You’re not sure. Then again, none of this is healthy, you try and tell yourself. 

The photograph that sits upon her dresser of the three of you huddled together on top of a picnic blanket catches your eye and you can’t help but smile as you look at the smile on all your faces. Admittedly, you feel like this is all a cruel game. Someone tugging your heart out of your chest and leaving it to burn on an open flame. 

It brings a twist to your stomach, paired with sickness and bitter tears all over again. A never ending cycle of misery and despair. ‘Sometimes the most beautiful things in life just can’t be touched’, is what you’re told by those around you. You didn’t understand what that meant until you lost Mi-Cha.

You scoff to yourself, finding it sickly amusing that it is you that has been handed this card. With one last wipe of the tears on your face, you get up from the ground and exit the room, mentally making the decision that you need to get out of the house.

Pacing around the hallways with empty thoughts becomes the new normal for you. There is nothing in this house that brings you any type of merriment. The wooden structure of your once shared bedroom door stands tall above you, doing its job in aiding you in the heartache of seeing the leftover possessions of Yoongi.

Cracking open the door, your eyes immediately dart to the bed. It’s still unmade from the last time you found Yoongi breaking his vow he had made to you as he piledrove his feelings into his secretary as you stood in the doorway and watched. So much for ‘for better or for worse’.

At a quick pace, you wander into the cold room and clutch at some clothes while making a mental note to start moving your belongings into the spare room you now occupy.

The undesirable smell of stale cigarettes, cheap alcohol, and body odour fills the establishment as soon as you walk in and take in your surroundings. The bar is next to empty considering it is the middle of a working day. You find a deserted stool where the bar top is and decide to take a seat and order a drink. The woody cedarwood tabletop is sticky with spilt beer, it wasn’t exactly the most pleasant place to be around.

The feeling of a vibration hums from your handbag and you pull it out to find a message from nobody important. You aimlessly scroll through your phone at anything and everything, finding something to keep you entertained. Bored, you decide to open your texts again and scroll until you find Yoongi’s contact.

The bartender hands you your drink and you drink a generous sip. Your face screws up as the liquor burns as it trails down your throat. You look back at your phone and let your fingers press on Yoongi’s name. Navigating your way through the threads of messages, your eyes sting at the words you share with each other.

You keep scrolling through and stumble upon the ending months of your pregnancy with your beloved daughter. Taking another copious sip of the bitter alcohol, you read through sweet words from Yoongi. Sharing ‘I love you’s’, ‘please rest’, ‘I can’t wait to come home and look after my two girls’, the list goes on.

“You’re deep in thought,” the deep, gravelly voice of the bartender rips you away from memory lane. “You’re going to need another one of those if it’s getting you that upset.”

Tiny tears had passed your lashes and dripped onto your cheek without you noticing until the bartender had pointed it out to you. Nodding, you accept his offer to pour you another and you drink down the rest of your first drink before scrolling all the way back down until you’re back at the last message sent between the two of you.

June 8th

7.32pm [yoongi] : im sorry.

Locking your phone, you place it screen down against the wood and take another drink, throwing your head back at the distaste. It’s useless leaving your phone there face down, it's only taunting you to pick it up again. Picking it up, you’re about to place it back into your handbag, away from prying eyes before the large manilla envelope pokes out the top.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips and you’re once again opening up your cell. Your fingers click onto the textbox and begin typing but nothing sounds right. It’s a back and forth journey of typing and erasing the text over and over again. In the end, you think it’s best to keep it short and to the point.

November 21st

2.34pm [you] : yoongi, we need to talk.

Not even a moment goes by and the ringtone of your phone goes off and you see a response from Yoongi.

2.34pm [yoongi] : ____, is this really you?

2.34pm: who else would it be?

2.35pm [yoongi] : nobody. im just surprised to hear from you, that’s all

2.35pm [you] : nobody is as surprised as me, yoongi. send me your address, im on my way.

This is it. Now is the time. Except there is no right time, there’s never a right time to do what you’re about to do. But it needs to be done. Swallowing the last of your drink, you gather your belongings and head for the exit.

The address Yoongi has given you isn’t too far from where you are currently, so you pull your jacket over your shoulders and begin walking, letting the droplets of rain spit down from the sky and onto your skin.

It only takes fifteen minutes to reach his apartment complex, the drizzle now turning into a rainstorm. Typical. Yet, you don’t move. You stand at the opposite side of the street and look up at the tall building, your feet unwilling to move as you stand outside letting the pouring rain soak through your clothes.

You watch people around you in the busy street as feet slam through the wet asphalt, causing splashing as people around you race to find some shield from the torrential downpour that suddenly took over the once blue sky. The air is cold and humid and sticks to your skin, evoking a shiver to course down your body.

Your feet finally drag themselves across the blackened cement towards the entrance of the complex. You're greeted by an elder gentleman who seems to be in charge of the building as he helps usher you inside to the warmth and out of the coldness of the rain outside.

You look around the foyer of the building and can’t help but take in the sight of it all. It’s definitely more upmarket in comparison to your own home. Somewhere that is made of money, and a part of you is a little speechless that Yoongi has found himself here while you’re the one left wallowing in pain in your house.

You realise that the gentleman was staring at you, expecting a response from you as if you hadn’t just spent the last few minutes zoned out.

“Sorry, what?” You ask.

He chuckles, assuming that you’re the bashful type, and for him, you play along. “I asked if you’re here to visit someone?”

Hesitantly, you nod your head and give him the name.

Momentarily, the gentleman leaves and returns just as quickly with the apartment number and level you would find it.

You thank him and head towards the escalators. You can’t turn back now because then you’d look ridiculous.

Pressing the number of the floor, you wait for the elevator to come back towards the reception foyer. Sickness washes over you at the thought of seeing Yoongi again after spending so long apart with no contact. Your mind wanders and you wonder if he’s changed at all. Physically or personally. You wonder if he is as broken up as you. You wonder if she’s going to be with him when you get there. If maybe he’s been with her this whole time and has completely left you and the misery behind in his past.

You’re broken from your thoughts as the doors open in front of you. It’s now or never. Stepping inside, you watch as the doors close and you press the button for his floor.

Leaning against the railing, your hands grip the cool metal as you take a breath in and out. Repeating the steps over in your mind until the doors open once more signalling your departure from the elevator.

You knock on the door with the lightest of knocks, now completely unsure if this is something you’re prepared for. You wait and there doesn’t seem to be an answer. You think about walking away - this is your signal that maybe this isn’t such a good idea. But before your feet can shift you back in the direction of the exit, the sounds of a chain shifting on the other side of the door and a lock being twisted are heard before the door is pulled back to reveal Yoongi on the other side.

The sight of him catches you more off guard than you had anticipated. Your heart picks up and thunders against your chest as you take him in. He hasn’t changed whatsoever since the last time you had seen him and you’re unsure if that’s a good thing or not. Sure, his eyes are darker than usual and his face looks a little sunken but other than that, he still looks like your Yoongi.

Without saying a word, Yoongi stands to the side to allow the door to open further, inviting you inside.

You take in your surroundings of Yoongi’s new place, silently looking around for other signs of life in the apartment. The door clicks shut behind you, cutting you short of your findings. However, it seems that Yoongi is aware of what you’re up to.

“Nobody else lives here,” he huffs.

“Hm,” is the only response you find in yourself without barking at him. Afterall, you’ve always been taught that if you have nothing nice to say, you say nothing at all.

“It isn’t just someone living here,” you mutter to yourself under your breath.

You notice that the living room and kitchen area are open planned as you continue walking around. Placing your bag on the countertop, you find a seat at the breakfast island and sink into it with your back facing Yoongi, impressed with yourself that you’ve made it this far.

Yoongi is back in your line of sight as he walks to the other side of the kitchen island and leans his back against the sink with his arms closed. He keeps his eyes on the ground, not being able to look you in the eye, none of you wanting to be the first to break the silence.

“Did you only come here to stare at me, ____?”

You bitterly smile at his words, the alcohol from earlier fuelling your courageousness. “It’s bold of you to assume that I would want to stare at you in the first place. Why? Did your piece on the side not give you enough attention?” You laugh.

Yoongi’s nostrils flare at the mention of his infidelity yet left at a loss for words at your sharp tongue. This isn’t who he remembered you to be but on the other hand, he isn’t surprised at all after everything you have been through. You are bound to be a little more on the defensive side and he blames himself to be a part of that reason.

“I didn’t let you in here to belittle me and bring up my past mistakes. I’m at least trying to move on from it. Trying to give you the space you need, like you asked for.”

The smile leaves your face just as quick as it came as he reminds you why he’s here in this apartment rather than the home you used to share together. He’s right though — he’s here because you told him to leave.

You hum again. “It’s a nice place you’ve got yourself here.”

“Speaking of permanent,” you start. You take a deep breath and let the following words that have been dancing on your tongue for the last few months leave your mouth. “I want a divorce.”

The silence that fills the room is concrete. You watch as Yoongi’s eyes widen, the hope of any reconciliation with you vanishing to be replaced by devastation and hurt. It takes him a few moments to gather his thoughts before responding to you.

“A divorce? What, so that’s it? You’re not even going to try and fix this? Don’t we both deserve better than that?”

Standing strong by your decision, you shake your head at his argument.

"I can't even bear to look at you anymore, Yoongi. What makes you think this can be patched up, fixed and forgiven?"

“You don’t mean that, baby. Mi-Cha wouldn’t want this. She would want us to work thr-,”

“No.” You’re quick to cut him off. “No Yoongi. You don’t get to call me that anymore and you certainly don’t have any right to bring up my daughter, not after what you did. There's nothing you can say that will make me change my mind. I want this divorce. I can't deal with this, with you, any longer."

At the mention of Mi-Cha, you notice Yoongi’s fist clench and nails dig into the palm of his hand in a desperate attempt to snap at the insinuation of her not being a part of him just as much as you.

“____, I know I messed up, b-but a divorce? C’mon, you’re not thinking clearly.”

You crack a sarcastic laugh at his words. “Yoongi, I have never thought more clearly. After everything that has happened since we lost Mi-Cha, you were so absent. Even when you were around, you were never around. Where were you when I needed you the most?” You raise your voice, all the built up emotions from not seeing Yoongi the last few months now finally surfacing.

Yoongi looks down, a look of defeat written across his face. It’s heart wrenching to see someone you’ve loved for most of your adult life look so helpless but putting his feelings aside for just a moment, this is what needs to be done.

“Come on now Yoongi, let’s be realistic here. Aren’t you tired of this continuous back and forth between us?” You question.

It was Yoongi’s turn to snort. Your words light a small fire within him, enough to give him the courage to approach you in the kitchen and pull out a bottle of single malt whiskey and two crystal whiskey glasses from his liquor cupboard. “How,” he pauses and laughs, “can I be tired of something when I haven't heard from you in five months, ____, huh? Don’t I get a say in this?”

He finishes pouring the drinks into the two glasses and slides the second your way, the scratching of the crystal on the marble surface ringing loudly in the air.

“You left me and you didn't even think twice about it, and now you’re asking for a say in this? That’s funny.” You deadpan as you take a sip of the nippy drink. You never did have a taste for whiskey but you reckon you’re going to need all the liquid encouragement you can get for this conversation. “You hurt me, and I just can’t forgive that. What is so difficult to see about this?” 

Yoongi tries to stay calm through your onslaught of words. His fist holding his beverage begins to tighten as his grip turns white, “Oh, don’t condescend me about being hurt, ____. It took two people to break this marriage, not just me.”

It was your turn to grip tightly at the crystal glass as you raise it to your lips and take a generous amount into your mouth. His words are spiteful and bitter. Enough so to leave a pain so deep that it almost makes the taste of the alcohol pleasurable.

“You’re right. You and that slut of a secretary who got your dick wet in our forever home. There’s your two people,” you scoff. Your chest begins to tighten at the thought of it all. Mi-Cha’s death and Yoongi’s unfaithfulness all hit you all over again all at once, causing a wave of dizziness to wash over you. You reach out for the counter and lay your hands across the cool top. Your head falls forward as you try to control your breathing. "Why couldn't you feel what I do, I jus-,” you struggle to finish your sentence. Your voice cracks half way through your sentence as your resolve begins to fall apart.

“What do you mean ‘why can’t I feel what you feel’? Losing our daughter is the hardest thing I have ever had to deal with. I needed you and you fucking pushed me away so don’t come to me with that bullshit,” Yoongi lashes out as anger takes over.

You manage to control your breathing enough to straighten yourself out and stare Yoongi in the eyes. “Why’d you do it?”

The question catches Yoongi off guard as his eyes widen and he stares at you with an open mouth, but no words come out. 

“I am trying to wrap my head around the fact that you had sex with one of your employees in our home. In our bed. In the bed that you touch me in. I’m your wife," you snarl. Every syllable that leaves your lips increases in volume until you feel like your lungs are moments from giving out. “You want me to just let you come crawling back into my house and just act as if nothing ever happened? Yoongi, I can barely look at you, and when I can finally muster up the courage to, I can’t look at you for too long because then all I see are the facial expressions as you fucking jackhammer some twenty year old in our bed.”

In a desperate attempt to stop the words from leaving your mouth, Yoongi grabs the first thing in front of him, and hurls it across the opposite side of the room you're both standing in. The sound of the expensive glass shattering against the stone wall fills the air.

“Okay, fine.” It was your turn to flinch as Yoongi raises his voice to match your own and slams his hand against the marble counter. “I fucked up. Is that what you want to hear? That I fucked up? Do you think I’m not aware of that?” Fuck ____, I fucking know. I live with what I did every single day.” Stopping, he turns away from you and extends his arms out to lean against the cold marble worktop. “But you know what ____? It wasn’t just you that was hurting when Mi-Cha passed away. I was fucking hurting too.”

The tears that have gathered at your lash line are falling freely listening to your husband. His words burn into your skin like a red hot iron blistering your skin.

Yoongi feels his resolve breaking as he looks at you, his once bright eyes now dulled by grief. “I lost a child too, ____. She was my daughter too.” His voice shakes as he gathers the last of the courage he has left. “She died, and I couldn’t protect her like I am meant to do. Like fathers are meant to look after and protect their daughters." He runs his hands through his hair and pulls at the strands hard, tears forming in his eyes. Yoongi stares at the ceiling, blinking faster than normal as he chokes back a sob. The nausea in his stomach creeps further up at the loss of his only child.

A stray tear escapes and runs down his pale face as he stares at you once more. He curses and carries on. “But you are so caught up in your own grief, that you couldn’t even see that we —,” he points back and forth between the two of you, “ — we were breaking!” Yoongi snarls at you.

The silence between you both was speaking more volume than words themselves. Tearing your gaze from your husband, your eyes zone in on the pile of broken glass. Broken and Shattered. A visual representation of your marriage.

Smashed, cracked, and unrepairable.

“So that's it then? That’s your excuse for you to bury your cock in some twenty-year-old pussy?” You snort as you make your way in front of him, squaring up to him and looking him straight in his eyes. “I carried her in my body. She is made up of my flesh and my blood. Fuck you, Yoongi,” you punctuate your vicious words with jabs into his chest. “You’re a piece of shit. I trusted you with everythi-."

“See, that is exactly what I mean. It is always about you and never about us.” Yoongi’s voice roars above your own. He continues to stand his ground amidst the onslaught of insults. Not once does he break eye-contact with your enraged state. “I tried being there for you. But it was you who pushed me further and further away with every passing day. I wanted to comfort you. Fuck, I needed you to comfort me. But no, you shoved me out like you shoved everyone else around you. And now look where we are,” he lashes back, voice as sharp as a knife. “In case you have forgotten, it took two people to ruin this relationship.”

His words cut. Like vines wrapping themselves around your heart and tightening with no signs of stopping until the thorns have torn their way through and spilled the contents all over the floor as you both stare at each other with mutually pained expressions.

“It would have been kinder to kill me than to do what you did. Now I'm the one that is filled with a bitterness I can't control and I don’t want that anymore, Yoongi. I don’t deserve to keep feeling this way.” 

Stunned into a violent silence, you shove Yoongi from you and watch as he loses his balance and stumbles backward. Somehow it just isn’t enough. You wanted to see him hurt as he had hurt you. Yet nothing you think will ever make him hurt the way you are. Raising your hands to push at him again, your movements are cut short as a pair of palms lock around your wrists before you can make contact with his chest and pull you in. 

“Don’t you dare,” Yoongi seethes. All he can do is look at you in the moment of your shared pain. Even when you assault him with full fists, your hands aren’t exactly void. They are full of anger and hatred and Yoongi doesn’t ever think he would be able to forgive what he has turned you into. “I want you to look at me.”

It’s a command you wish yourself to ignore and despite every urge in your bones not to, weakness fills your body as you obey. His beautiful face twists in anger at your actions. Dark circles under his eyes, his clothes are wrinkled and his onyx hair is dishevelled and messy. And you aren’t faring any better. You’re just as much as a mess with puffy cheeks, swollen from all the crying. Mascara stains slide down your face in streaks of faded black and yet Yoongi still finds you the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on.

In a hasty rush, Yoongi backs you up towards the closest wall and pins your wrists above your head, keeping his eyes on yours the whole time. His chest rises and falls with every breath he takes, and you will yourself not to back down to the feeling of fear crawling under your skin underneath his stare.

Yoongi’s face nears your own, and he presses his nose against your cheek, his grip on your wrist tightens ever so gently as he inhales and trails his nose down to your neck. You’re unsure if it's the dominant behaviour he’s displaying, the close proximity or the unforgiving tone of his voice, but something inside of you stirs. 

Impulsively, you pull a hand out of his grip and find the top of his hair to pull his head down towards you. “Yoongi, if you want to kiss me that badly, then do it.” You lash back, your words sending a shiver down your own neck. This time it’s your own chest that rises and falls with every inhalation, your tits pressing up against Yoongi as the proximity between you gets smaller.

He exhales deeply. The warmth of his breath tickles at your skin as he grins, feeling you shudder against him and before you realise it, Yoongi has his head buried between the junction of your throat and shoulder. Making his way up to your jawline, he begins licking at your skin and leaves the tiniest of nips, feather light and barely enough to leave marks.

Yoongi lowers one of his hands from your wrists and trails it down your face. You watch him as he plays with the strands of hair that have fallen into your face before he tucks it behind your ear.

It all feels too intimate, an eruption of butterflies in your stomach catching you off guard. It’s been so long since you’ve experienced flutters like this. Especially from your husband.

Yoongi places his palm over your cheek to frame your face and leans in for a kiss but stops a hair breadth away from your lips. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours.

Tears well in your eyes leaving your vision blurred, unfocused on Yoongi in front of you. Your breathing shortens at the close proximity of the man you have spent the last eight years of your life with, letting your own hand find his on your cheeks and lacing your trembling fingers in between his.

“I need to know if you want me again,” Yoongi gently probes.

The knuckles of his index finger softly caresses your puffy cheek as it continues down and finds the base of your throat. His fingers wrap around your neck and ever so slightly lifts your head up and squeezes the sides of your throat just hard enough to be uncomfortable but not enough to cause any restrictive air loss.

“I missed what we were…Don’t you?” The grip gets tighter and to your credit, you let him, as your free hand falls limp by your side and let out a breathy moan.

His words sting, but you’re too lost in Yoongi and the heated tension between the two of you to care. Your hand wraps around his neck and pulls him forward, pressing your lips against his in a needy rush. You whimper into the kiss, not thinking that this is going to be the last time that you both share a moment like this together.

Yoongi’s lips don’t feel like the usual smooth and soft lips that you remember but resemble more of a dry and cracked feeling like he had never gotten over the habit of chewing and picking at the skin. Nevertheless, they are still full and plump as you remember and it only makes you yearn for more.

Your mouths move against each other like they have so many times before, growing with passion as every moment passes. Yoongi licks along the seam of your lower lip and you open up for him on instinct as he begins to lick and nip at your own lip.

Yoongi takes control the moment his tongue slips into his mouth, tangling his tongue with your own in an aggressive and needy manner. The kiss resembles everything that Yoongi is. Dominant and fiery. You moan again as your eyes shut, allowing yourself to get lost in the sensation of his tongue massaging against yours.

Your wrist fights its way out of his grip from above your head and joins the other in wrapping themselves around his neck and pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. Your body grows hotter with every moment that goes by, pulling him closer, trapping your body in between his and the wall behind you.

Yoongi doesn’t resist as he holds your head while he tilts his own to deepen the kiss and the other rests on your waist, his warm palm sneaks under the material of your soaking sweater to rest against the flat of your cold back. He kisses you with fever and grabs a handful of your ass and pulls you into his embrace.

You wrap your legs around his slender hips as he keeps you held up by his grip and the brick wall behind you. You just can’t get enough. Your tongues move roughly against each other in hunger, relishing the taste of each other like it is the last time.

A few tears fall from your shut eyes as the thought of knowing this is going to be the last time takes over your thoughts. Yoongi drags his teeth across your lower lip and sucks a little. His teeth dig in a little too hard and draws blood ever so slightly.

With his gaze on you turned downwards, you can’t tell if they are closed or are simply staring you down through his cat-like eyes.

“I want you, Min Yoongi,” you breathe against his lips and you feel him smile at your words.

He squeezes your ass again and grinds his hips against yours. “You still want to get up and leave me?”

Heat creeps up your neck at the thought of lying to your husband. “N-no.”

Yoongi slides your jacket straight off your shoulders and doesn’t hesitate as he reaches for the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head, throwing it across the open plan kitchen straight into the living room. A moan leaves his lips as he takes you in and watches as you fumble about with the clasp on your bra, slowly sliding it down your arms once the claps have detached.

Yoongi’s lips are on yours the second the word ‘no’ leaves your mouth, teeth bumping against your own in a ferocious kiss. You whine at the contact, desperate for a breath but Yoongi has other ideas as he walks you away from the wall and down the corridor towards what you can only assume is his bedroom. 

“That’s right. I’m gonna fuck the thought of you leaving me right out of you.”

You give no response to his words as you feel your heart get heavy, ready to shatter all over again.

Yoongi sets you down, both feet on the floor as he keeps his lips on yours. His tongue continues to slip in and out of your mouth as he pushes the door open and pulls you in with him. You are forced against the door and you flinch at the sound of it slamming loud behind you. The door knob behind you pushes against you, but you lose the sense to care when it’s Yoongi who has you pressed against it. Your fingers reach for the belt loops of his denim jeans and tug him towards you, feeling his hardening cock pressing against you.

Finally getting a break, Yoongi detaches his lips and kisses down your jaw until his lips, tongue, and teeth grace across your neck. You automatically tilt your head back for him, granting the space for him to leave his mark. Your hands fly up to grab at his hair, tugging when the taller man traps the skin in between his lips and lightly sinks his teeth in as if he is testing the waters.

In response, you moan at his actions and you can feel him smirk against your neck. Yoongi continues to kiss all over the expanse of your neck, finding your collarbone and nibbling on the skin. You mewl at the pleasure, feeling the hair on your neck stand at the feeling of teeth grazing your flesh.

You feel Yoongi’s cock twitch and swell slightly as you both begin to grind against each other, desperate for friction. Yoongi finds the sweet spot of your neck, in between your shoulder and your neck. His mouth sucks on the spot vigorously and diligently, creating a kaleidoscope of marks to decorate your skin. Your reaction pleases him enough to know that that spot is still your sensitive spot and he keens to himself that he is still able to rouse the sweet sounds from your lips.

Yoongi dives forward and gets to work on unbuttoning your jeans before finding the small slider of the zipper and teases you, not pulling it down like you desperately need him to. Instead, he releases the little piece of metal and his palm reaches down and palms your pussy through your jeans. You throw your head back and grind down on him, looking for any sort of friction to get you off. The feeling of his index, middle and ring finger rubbing your pussy up and down gets you wetter than you ever thought you would be, but it’s just not enough. And if there is one thing Yoongi always was and always will be, that’s a tease. As he watches your face twist as you writhe in front of him by the minute he deems necessary, he rips his hand away from you.

“Yoongi, w-why?”

He eventually pulls the zipper down and hastily dips his fingers into the separated denim, past the hem of your underwear, and straight for your clit. You yelp out at the indulgence being bestowed upon your body from the only man who knows how. Yoongi begins to pull your jeans down your thighs and legs, letting them pool at your feet before kicking them away and moving your underwear to the side and then opening your legs further to allow him more access to move his hand in between your legs.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Yoongi begins as two fingers spread your lips open and his middle finger makes the first intrusion into your pussy. Your body spasms as he slides in knuckle deep and curls his finger once he finds that spongy spot deep inside.

Your lips surge forward and attach them to his own mouth in a frenzy of lust. The kiss is carnal and animalistic, tongue and teeth battling against each other as his finger never stops pumping in and out of you at a deadly pace. Your hands wrap around his biceps and squeeze. Your chipped fingernails digging into his skin, tearing at the flesh and leaving a trail of red marks.

“What do you want?” Yoongi questions with a lazy smirk on his face.

For this to be over. For me to leave you once and for all, you don't say.

“You.”

“That’s right. You’re mine, and I’m not going to let you forget that,” he softly whispers in your ear causing your body to shiver. He removes his finger from you and pulls you away from the door and pushes you down on the bed.

The bed creaks against the hardwood flooring the cotton sheets doing barely anything to save you from your dramatic landing. Encouraged by your moans from his aggressive actions, Yoongi grasps at your ankles and pulls you towards the bottom of the bed until your feet touch the floor and parts your legs to allow him space to fit in between.

Once again, his fingers trace over your glossy folds ever so gently. If you weren’t so hyper aware of everything going on around you, you don’t think you’d be aware of his fingers caressing your folds. That is how gentle Yoongi is with you. A juxtaposition to how carnal he was just moments ago. The whole time, Yoongi has his eyes gazing at your soaked pussy, like it’s the only thing he has ever been trained to do.

“Mmm,” he hums, “look at all this mess… Is this all for me? Did you miss me this much?” He goads, groaning as he presses his fingers into your clit, watching your hips rise from the bed beneath you.

“Yoongi, please,” you babble, lips parting and eyes fluttering shut at the tingling sensation of Yoongi’s fingers. Your hand reaches down to Yoongi’s wrist and holds him in place, a silent plea to encourage his movements. “Please, I just… I need… you,” you murmur, a choked cry escaping you.

The words drip from your tongue so easily, the words that Yoongi has been desperately needing to hear from you this whole time.

A fire blazes warmer as Yoongi slides two fingers past your slick folds and buries them deep inside your cunt again. He gives a few lazy pumps of his index and middle finger before sinking his head down between your legs and licking a wide stripe from your quivering hole, making sure to manoeuvre around his fingers, to your clit. Yoongi flattens out his tongue and repeats himself twice, thrice.

Your hand finds its way to Yoongi, as you take a generous amount of hair and tug at him, pulling him toward your pussy for more. Instinctively, your legs part to give Yoongi more room to play with you. He makes sure to give your clit extra attention as he draws lopsided and rough circles on the sensitive bud, causing your back to arch significantly off the bedspread and further into his awaiting mouth. Your hands tighten the grip on his hair and you shiver at his ministrations.

“God, I’ve missed you so much,” Yoongi breathes, into your dewy lips. The movement of his lips against your pussy sources a sigh and loud moans to creep past your lips, letting Yoongi know just how good he is making you feel.

His fingers never stop in tandem with his tongue. With every suction of his mouth comes a harder thrust of his fingers, knuckles deep and never missing a single beat, pulling your orgasm closer to the edge.

One of your feet lifts off the floor and finds purchase on the end of the bed, bending your knee. You raise your head and are graced with the most wonderful view of Yoongi from below you all fucked out, just from some oral. It never fails to amuse you how Yoongi can get so riled up just from your own pleasure. 

“Spit on it,” you beg.

You can feel Yoongi smile against your slick cunt at your words. Removing his head from your pussy, you watch as his chin is connected by a string of your arousal as he looks towards the mess he has already made. His skin is glossy and wet, just how you both used to enjoy it.

Rather than letting the fluid leave his mouth, he takes his time and lets the liquid leak from his mouth slowly. You watch as it drips from his tongue and climbs out of his mouth before the first drop lands on your clit, now connecting the both of you. Never has Yoongi ever done that with you before and it leaves you feeling more turned on. The never ending drool between the both of you finally snaps and Yoongi’s eyes return to your pussy, watching his spit mix with your arousal and trickling down past your ass creating a wet patch in his red comforter.

“Oh fuck, Yoongi,” you moan, voice breaking as his two fingers leave your sloppy cunt with a pop, collecting the mixed fluids and stuffs his fingers back into you, curling it at the right spot. “Shit, shit, shit, Yoongi that feels so good,” your voice is breathy.

Yoongi lifts both your legs and places them over his shoulders and continues to suck vigorously at your clit, your orgasm approaching you at a phenomenal rate. Garbled cries of Yoongi's name fall from your lips like a mantra, like it's the only prayer you know. Pleasure consumes every single part of your body. Your toes curl as your ankles dig into the back of Yoongi’s shoulders.

“Keep going, Y-Yoongi don’t stop, oh God-,” your grip tightens in his hair as you scream, your orgasm ripping through you. Your legs tremble as you feel Yoongi’s hands hold your hips down and continue to slurp every last drop of cum that leaves your pussy, making sure that you remember every last movement of his tongue.

Yoongi places one last chaste kiss on your clit and removes himself from in between your legs. The bed dips ever so gently as he places a knee on either side of your body and crawls up towards you. You watch as he removes his shirt from his body, revealing the soft skin of his torso. The moonlight outside seeps in through the crack in the curtains, giving Yoongi an ethereal glow like the purest angel who’d been cast upon you, to look out for you and love you. But you’re easily reminded of the devil in his angel eyes.

You see the remnants of your slick coating his lips as he strokes his own tongue along the skin, savouring the taste of you entirely. His lips are full and swollen from the attack he just bestowed on you. One of his arms balances his weight on either side of your head as the other slides under your head and lifts you up, meeting your lips half way. Your tongue slips into his mouth immediately and tangles with his own. You taste yourself on him and you moan aloud.

Both so lost in the taste of each other, you fail to feel Yoongi’s hand being removed from your hair as he begins to pull on the leather of his belt. The metal clacks against each other and he starts to pull the material through the loops as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss. He places the belt next to your thigh and you break the kiss to begin working on the button of his jeans before pulling the zipper down.

You pull apart the top of his jeans just enough to give your hand enough room to slide under and grip his cock from through his boxers. Yoongi’s hips jut forward at the contact, head falling back and a breathy sigh fills the air around you as you squeeze over him ever so gently. It only spurs you on and you begin softly palming him, allowing him to press more and more into your hand as you continue to apply pressure to his cock. You feel a surge of confidence knowing that you still have this effect on your husband. Maybe he is still attracted to you, you think. Maybe it could work again.

No. You can’t think that. Remember what he did to you, your shattered heart reminds you. No matter how often you try, and you have tried, your heart just won’t let you see the light of Yoongi again.

Yoongi doesn’t remember the last time he felt this good. He is so used to using himself to get off since the separation that he has totally forgotten what it was like having someone else help him get off.

Eventually, he pulls his jeans and underwear off and throws them somewhere behind him, hearing them land in a heap on the other side of the room. His cock bobs slightly up and down as he groans at being released from his tight confines. It wasn’t a secret that Yoongi had a beautiful cock. Pink from base to tip, precum shining in a glistening sheen at the head. He isn’t the biggest but he definitely had girth.

“Where are your hands?” he questions.

You raise your hands towards his cock, thinking that is what he was asking for but Yoongi stops you short as you near his dick and brings them up to his mouth and presses kisses to them both. He crawls a little further, pushing you down with his knees as he gets higher and sits just shy of your tits.

“What are you doing?”

Yoongi places one kiss on each wrist and then places them above your head, and in between the metal bars of his bedpost and reaches for the belt he had removed earlier. “Do you still like being bound?”

Your mouth opens but you can’t formulate any words towards his proposal. A soft moan and deep breath echoes in the room as you nod your head. His thumbs are rubbing soothing circles on the inner skin of your wrists.

With a heated gaze, Yoongi wraps the leather around your wrists and ties a knot in the metal bars your hands are caught in between, giving it a rough tug and testing the strength of the knot he has created.

Happy, Yoongi manoeuvres himself slowly down your body, his fingers grazing over your cheeks and down your jawline. He continues his touch towards the valley of your breasts and tender skin of each tit. His fingers pinch one of your nipples and your body reacts in the most beautiful way at the unexpected pleasure. He releases your nipple momentarily and then presses down on it again. A sharp exhale is pulled from you at his actions. Leaning down, his teeth graze the other nipple and he grinds a little harder with the bud between his teeth. Your arms pull at the restraints in an attempt to feel anything. Yoongi, the bed sheets, anything you can sink your nails into.

Yoongi catches your reactions from his peripheral vision and amusingly smirks to himself. He begins laving at the valley of your breasts, basking in the salty sweet taste of your flesh. Yoongi looks up to you through lust filled eyes and curls his lips into an amusing smile, a bright tint taking over his soft porcelain skin. Gently, he presses the underside of his cock through your folds and rocks himself through your wetness in an unhurried pace.

Regardless, there is plenty of pain and torment behind each other's eyes at the loss of each other, but not as much hurt and betrayal your heart feels as you gaze at Yoongi, watching him manipulate your emotions in this very moment and yet you can’t help but let him and every part of your being can’t help but add layer upon layer of guilt for what you’re really here to do.

Yoongi kisses down your stomach, making sure to run his tongue over your flesh and wet trails in his wake. His hands glide up and down your ribs, tickling you as he goes until he abruptly stops. You peer down at Yoongi to see what it is that has him pausing until you see him staring at your stomach, and more specifically - your pregnancy scar from the emergency surgery you were rushed in for the birth of your child.

Suddenly feeling insecure, your hands move to cover yourself up but the slight burn of the leather against your skin, held as a tight reminder that you are bound to the bed all for Yoongi’s taken.

“Shh, my baby,” he starts as you swallow heavily. His hand caresses the scar with the utmost care as his fingers linger and trace feather light touches back and forth, causing your abdomen to tighten. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He kisses your scar and tears well up in your eyes and immediately drips down the side of your cheeks. “This body — it gave me, us, life. You’ll always be the most beautiful woman in every room,” he mouths against your inner thigh as he ventures closer to where you both yearn for him to be.

At first, Yoongi didn’t know where to start. It had been so long since the last time you had sex with each other and to say Yoongi is at a bit of a loss would be an understatement. He wants to taste you, feel you, touch you in any way and every way he possibly could think of.

Without thinking too much into it, Yoongi lowers his head until his mouth reaches your pussy and your hips jerk up at the feeling of his soft tongue finally running the length from your hole to your clit. Yoongi’s hands reach up to your hips and pin you down to the mattress, minimising your movements below him while he assaults your nerves over and over.

Yoongi stops for a moment and uses the time to revert his gaze back up to you. Your face is twisted to the side attempting to hide in the crook of your arm which is bent at the elbow due to the belt restraining you to the headboard. But he can see your face painted in pleasure and that is enough for him to chew at his bottom lip and move back towards your pussy.

Separating your pussy with his index and middle finger, Yoongi reveals your swollen clit to the cold air and watches as you clench against nothing — just for him. You’re squirming from under his hold on your hips as you attempt to seek any possible friction to the emptiness you’re currently experiencing.

“Baby, there’s no rush. We have plenty of time,” Yoongi mumbles under his breath as he begins to blow cold air on your pussy and you can feel the pressure in your belly to turn into something needier. 

If only he knew that he did not in fact have plenty of time and that after this, this would be the end between the both of you.

Yoongi licks past your folds once more, reattaching his lips to your clit. You let a deep sigh fall past your lips as your hips rise from the bed and harder into Yoongi’s mouth.

Yoongi swirls his tongue expertly through your pussy, remembering every motion that made your body writhe and yearn for him and watching you fall undone minute by minute underneath him. Your legs instinctively try to clamp themselves together, however, with Yoongi’s hold on your fleshy thighs, he is able to pry them open wider and hold your legs down flat on the sheets.

His soft muscle works in all different motions and shapes against your pussy all while slurping your juices like a man starved from his woman, causing you to squirm and pull once again at the restraints on your arms, feeling the leather item burn your skin. You moan his name over and over as Yoongi takes your clit in between his teeth and grazes ever so gently.

“Fuck, Yoongi, that feels so good.” You plead as your hips move back and forth at an increasingly quick pace.

You feel two of Yoongi’s fingers dance their way across your slit and ever so gently pushing past your folds and inch towards your clit and begin rubbing in feather-like touches on your bundle of nerves. He presses the pads of his fingers onto your sensitive clit and watches as your toes curl at the agonising pleasure he is providing before trailing down to your wet hole and pushing the digits into your cunt.

Both fingers push past your empty pussy until his knuckles meet your pubic bone, watching the way you open up for him and accommodate his fingers with little to no issues. Yoongi’s tongue works in tandem with the quick sharp thrusts his fingers make in and out of you in quick motions.

“Shit, ____, you’re so beautiful,” Yoongi mumbles. Your eyes are wide as Yoongi begins a harsh pace, fucking his fingers as deep as he could get them into you. He curls both fingers just right and watches your face contort, mouth agape as a deep sharp scream fills the air around you both.

Yoongi continues to twist his wet muscle against your clit before moving his head further down and thrusts his tongue into your dewy opening to join his two fingers. Your fists grab a hold of the leather belt and tug at it in an attempt to pull yourself away from Yoongi, the pleasure he’s indulging you with is almost too much to handle.

Without a warning, Yoongi’s fingers leave your pussy and wrap around your thigh, leaving your slick stained against your thigh, and pulls you back towards his mouth as he pushes forward and attacks you with his skilled tongue.

“Yoongi, Yoo-, oh my-,” you mewl as your walls clench around his muscle, letting him know that your climax is within reach.

Yoongi doesn’t stop, instead opting to concentrate his movements on your clit. He flicks back and forth over and over, watching you with feline eyes as he smirks against your cunt and digs his fingers into your trembling thighs.

“Cum. Remind yourself who makes you feel this fucking good,” Yoongi growls and blows cold air onto your pussy before diving back in. He is relentless in his movements, never leaving one area untouched.

“I hate what, ngh,” you try to say through the pleasure being bestowed upon you, “what we’ve become.” You mumble in between cries, your heart races, and your chest heaves as you fight for air in your burning lungs.

Opting to make you cum faster, Yoongi takes your clit in between his teeth and lightly nips at the sensitive bud. Your back arches off the bed and your toes curl at the sensation.

Again, he drags his teeth over your clit and smirks, “Yeah, I’m sure you do. That’s why you’re in my bed letting my mouth fuck you this well,” he cockily rebuttals.

He isn’t wrong. The sounds of him sucking and slurping your juices, the roughness of the pads of his fingers digging into your thighs was overbearing and just too good. You had missed having Yoongi in bed. But being here is just a constant reminder of the broken promises and torn vows. You’re just here to milk each other of all the pain you possibly can.

“Such a sweet pussy. The best pussy I’ve ever eaten.”

Your eyes look up at your bound wrists and can visibly see the marks underneath the leather and that was enough to spur you over the edge.

“Ngh, yes, r-right there, right there,” The ache in your tummy had finally snapped as your climax washes over you like a tidal wave. Your eyes clap shut and tears fall from the corners in small rivulets at the pleasure. Your mouth is wide as a weak cry sneaks past your lips.

As you try and close your legs around Yoongi, he relieves both of his hands from around the bottom of your ass and instead presses it against your inner thighs, holding your legs open further tongue darting in and out, up and down, as he drinks in every last drop.

You watch him through your blurred vision as he closes his eyes and opens his mouth further to accommodate your clit once more, continuing to take mouthfuls of you without a single bit of trouble.

Your effort to stay still is at a loss as loud sobs fall from your lips at the overstimulation of Yoongi’s tongue slithering back into your quivering hole. 

Despite your fragility in the moment, he seeks another orgasm from you, as if to challenge himself - to show you that nobody would be able to treat you just like he can.

“Stop, I’m -,” the words get stuck in your throat as your body seizes and your sight blackens, “going to come again.” Your body melts into his touch and your muscles tense once more as you come for the second time in just a matter of minutes.

Your skin burns as the leather of his belt above you tears from the force you pull on it. Your hands fly down and find Yoongi’s hair and fists themselves in between the strands, pulling him closer to you once more as the power of your orgasm forces his tongue from your pussy as a clear stream of liquid oozes onto the bed sheets, dousing the both of you.

You barely manage to clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds that threaten to tear from your vocal cords before Yoongi gets a hold of your wrist and manoeuvres it away from your face.

“Don’t be quiet now, it’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” He laughs. 

“I forget that you can do that, shit, you’re so hot. Bet nobody else can make you squirt with that kind of force,” he continues. “Fuck sweetheart, I bet nobody but me can make you squirt, period.”

The cockiness in his voice frustrates you and prompts you to bite back harder. “I’m sure the bitch you fucked in our marital bed couldn’t provide you good enough pussy, so you’re back in between my legs trying to prove you’re still useful at something.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you’re in shock with yourself. You never thought of yourself as the kind of person who would outrightly be so malicious. But all the emotions are beginning to crash one on top of the other, you couldn’t help but bark.

You watch Yoongi’s face contort in anger or disappointment as the words leave your mouth -  the mention of infidelity obviously hitting a sore spot.

Yoongi moves quickly and is soon straddling your waist once more and lets his head ebb towards you and attaches his kiss bitten lips to your own swollen ones while his hand works on the buckle of the belt to move off your wrists.

The taste of yourself is pungent as he slides his tongue straight into your mouth and circles his own wet muscle with your tongue prompting the kiss to become unforgiving, wet, and messy from the start.

You are unable to respond at first out of surprise, not expecting him to react to your words in such a manner - yet you aren’t against it at all. The lewd sounds of your tongues entwining and lips smacking resounds through the bedroom and prompts you to wrap an arm around his neck and force him further against you.

Yoongi diligently swallows every moan you let out as his own hands sneaks down and slaps your clit once, twice; the salacious wet sounds prompting you to bite down on Yoongi’s lip before letting it go and watching it snap back as a string of saliva keeps the two of you connected.

You feel Yoongi ever so lightly thrust his cock against your leg, smearing the pre-cum that has gathered on his head over your stomach. “Of course, you’re still into the rough hate sex.”

“Not make-up sex?” Yoongi laughs at your words.

“Don’t push it.”

You look back at him and see that there is no anger left in his expression, but instead, he looks empty. Like a shell of the man you once knew. He looks at you from above, with his muscly arms keeping you trapped in between his body and the bed with glints of melancholy laced with the desire for more of you.

Lacing both your hands together at the back of his neck, you draw Yoongi closer and kiss him once more, tasting his lips against yours again. You inch away from his mouth and trail your kisses towards his ear, taking the earlobe into your mouth and sucking on it lightly as Yoongi continues to find pleasure by rutting against your stomach.

“Go on. Now is your last chance to fuck the thought of me leaving you,” you whisper into his ear, taunting him with his words from earlier.

Yoongi scoffs and flips you over onto your stomach, coaxing a yelp of surprise from you, and guides your hips lower until you feel his cock probe ever so gently at your entrance. The graze of his dick against your clit prompts you to gently back away from him at the last minute.

“Have I done something wrong, ____?”

“Maybe you should cover up. It’s been a while and I don’t know where you’ve been. Sorry, who you’ve been with.”

Yoongi hesitates behind you, taken aback by your words. He doesn’t fight you on what you propose because if he’s honest; you’re right. You have no reason to trust him or his words now. Getting up from the bed, he rakes through his nightstand for a minute before finding himself back on the bed behind you.

You hear the sound of the foil packet tearing and you’re a little disappointed that Yoongi didn’t even try and convince you that he’s not been with anyone, confirming your suspicions that he’s maybe already been seeing other people. Or worse, her.

Rough fingers grab at one of your thighs and push them further apart to allow Yoongi ample space to fit in between your legs.

“Spit and spread your pussy for me,” he mumbles.

Stunned, you reach one hand up to your mouth and spit onto the pads of your fingers. Your head turns to the side and lowers towards the duvet on the bed to help balance yourself as your fingers find a home in between your legs and split your lips open in a ‘V’ shape. You shiver as you feel your fingers slide past your lips easily and mix your saliva with your spilt cum from earlier.

As you wait for Yoongi, you can see him from the position your head has found itself in and you can’t help but take him in.

With a strong stance behind you, you can see how his skin is flushed with excretion and shimmers under the light as perspiration sticks to his skin. When he takes a hold of his cock in between his hand, he throws his head back at the friction and you can’t help but let out a quiet moan at the sight.

You’re not quiet enough it seems as Yoongi looks back down at you through his dark lashes as he inches forward and pokes the head of his cock against your clit once more and thrusts in between your wet slit and out again, watching as the silicon wrapped around him glistens at the wetness from in between your own legs.

Yoongi’s mouth drops open at the sight and wills himself to run his cock back through your lips once more, pulling back again to see the filthy concoction he requested keep the pair of you connected before snapping and dripping from his tip to the sheets underneath.

His hands roughly grip at your hips and lowers you back towards him before settling at your small hole above and pressing forward.

“Oh, my God, Yoongi,” your voice strains as tears gather at your lash line at being stretched out once more by your husband. It’s been so long since you have had someone inside you. Since you have had him inside of you.

Yoongi bottoms out in one go as he pushes past you in one fluid motion without an issue. His hips grind up against your ass, half amazed that your pussy is still as tight as what he remembers it being. For the briefest of moments, he asks himself if finding another woman to bury his troubles in was even worth it; he has deprived himself of you for too long as a consequence.

It is a foreign feeling to the both of you fucking with a condom after years of unprotected raw sex, but nevertheless, it is like your pussy is custom made just to fit his cock. The way he fits inside you with next to no resistance - the slickness of your walls welcoming him home after so long of being away.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good around me, ____. Fuck.”

Yoongi pulls out all the way and watches as your hole clenches around nothing before he bends over and spits his own saliva onto your pussy and fills you up to the brim all over again, just to feel you tighten around him again.

Moans and grunts fill the room from the both of you as Yoongi starts with an unrelenting pace from the get go, watching you coat his cock in your slick over and over. Yoongi's hands dig into your hips as he pulls you back to fuck yourself on his dick, hitting all the spots inside you that neither your fingers nor toys could ever dream of reaching.

The formality of words now reduced to nonsensical noises and babbling, shrieks cast from your lips and Yoongi all but laughs from above you at the state you still get into just from him and his cock. The sounds ever so quickly are drowned out by the slapping of skin on skin as he fucks into you faster, harder.

You feel a hand slither up your back and into the nape of your neck and grab your hair into a makeshift ponytail at the top of your head, pulling at you and guiding you upward. With your back now flushed against Yoongi’s bare chest, you’re able to feel the sweat that clings to his skin stick to your own.

Another hand wraps around your waist to keep you upright and descends towards one of your nipples where he takes it in between his pointer finger and thumb and twists it.

“You can’t tell me anyone fucks-fucks you this well,” Yoongi growls in your ear. “Not a chance any other man can make you take a cock like mine.”

Admittedly, he’s right. Nobody has ever made you feel the way that Yoongi has made you feel.

You let out a condescending snort at his words, pissing him off and ridiculing apart his ego bit by bit. 

Yoongi lets go of your nipple in favour of curling his hand around your neck and tilting your head, the back of it resting against Yoongi’s shoulder as he towers above you, not breaking eye contact. Every so gently, Yoongi twists your head to the side, enough to allow his lips to meet yours as he continues the brute pace of pounding into your pussy.

The kiss is open mouthed, rough, and messy. Both your tongues circle each other in a battle against each other, saliva dripping from your mouths down to your chest and travels down the valley of your breasts.

Yoongi can feel your throat bob with every swallow you allow yourself, groaning in the process. The rough calluses of his fingers around your throat squeezes slowly, not hard enough to hurt you, but firm enough to cut off your breathing and leave you breathless and lightheaded. Your mouth opens further to suck in air and encourages Yoongi to pull away from the kiss. He leans down to trail rough kisses down your neck over the exposed skin that isn’t covered by his hand. With every touch of his lips, Yoongi made sure to suck on the skin and bite down hard enough to leave teeth marks.

Your mouth twists into a wicked smile at the action and you watch through lustful eyes Yoongi matches your smirks along with you as he keeps thrusting in and out of you, allowing you to see stars with every press of his cock against your cervix.

Yoongi starts to lightly release his grip on your neck as the heat begins to travel up his face. What a beautiful sight you are for him. As he begins to move his hand, you grab at his wrist and whimper for him to keep going.

“More.”

Both of you are so lost in the pleasure of it all that Yoongi doesn’t find it in himself to deny your request. Following your orders, Yoongi’s hand finds itself placed back on your neck and squeezes harder than before.

Keeping his hand in place, Yoongi watches from above as your eyes flutter shut at the constriction on your throat and the never ending bruising thrusts he is providing you. Yoongi drinks in every sound of the choked noises spilling from your lips in needy haste. You look like you’re on the verge of passing out with tear stains on your cheeks. The makeup that was smeared earlier in the night is now no longer present on your skin, having completely been erased by your activities.

“F-fuck, Yoongi, I c-can’t. I love you so much that I hate you,” you croak the words out past your tight throat, clenching your cunt as he drags his cock against your walls.

Yoongi’s head drops onto your shoulder from behind and the sound of sniffling can be heard. If it wasn’t for the sudden wetness that dripped onto your shoulder, you would have thought he was sniffling for oxygen. Instead, Yoongi is fucking into you while he lets his tears fall freely onto your skin.

He removes his fingers from your neck and you can’t help but suck in oxygen, your head going light headed quickly and your body bending forward, only to be kept in the arms of Yoongi.

“Are you crying right now?”

No response. Instead, Yoongi just sniffs again.

You see Yoongi’s reflection in the corner of the mirror from the way your head is against his chest and come to the conclusion that he has been crying for a while now. His eyes are bloodshot and red from rubbing the tears away. Your heart breaks at the sight and you can’t help but entwine your fingers with his own that lay against your stomach and give his hand a tight squeeze.

“You feel so good around me, ____. Wish I could feel you properly,” he muttered to himself, ignoring his tears and your question.

Without thinking, you respond, “do it.”

Yoongi abruptly stops mid thrust at your words, making you come to your senses and what you have just agreed to.

“Really?”

You pause for a moment to contemplate your next answer.

“Yeah.”

Yoongi couldn’t have pulled out of you fast enough at your confirmation. There is a moment of silence in the room as you presume Yoongi takes the latex off. Your mind is racing a million miles a minute at the decision you’ve made, unsure if it’s the right one or not.

“____. Ride me,” Yoongi voices directly.

Your breath gets caught and you splutter out a cough at his request. It was fine with him fucking you from behind, you didn’t have to look at him as he fucked into you but riding him was a whole other request. The position is so personal and would require you to hold your emotions together as you come face to face with him in the most intimate of ways.

Without saying a word, you move out of the way and let Yoongi rest his back against the headboard. He pulls you by the elbow on top of him with ease, your hands lay home on his shoulders as he holds his weeping cock at the base, readying himself for you to sink down on his length.

Your knees rest on either side of his thighs as you take in the view of Yoongi’s dick below you — proudly standing reddened and swollen under the lights. You slowly grind yourself against him, aching for the chance to feel him inside of you. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the desire of having Yoongi in such a way. At the end of the day, this is the man you had fallen in love with, grown with, and created life with.

Yoongi guides his cock past your wet slit one more time and basks in the feeling of you finally sinking down onto him, moaning with relief as his dick reaches parts of you in this position that the last couldn’t.

One more time, Yoongi bottoms out and his eyes flutter at the feeling of finally having you raw, with nothing between the two of you. He can feel everything — everything he always told himself he would never be able to experience again. Maybe this is his second chance to make things right. To prove to you that he is still the same man you fell in love with all those years ago without the feeling of hatred to be lace in between.

Yoongi’s hands rest at your waist and rub soothing circles into your skin above your hips. You both draw in a breath in preparation for your movements. You can’t help but lower your head and press your lips against Yoongi’s.

The kiss is softer than the last few you have shared. But just as quick as it starts, it stops. The overwhelming emotions become just too much to handle at the moment.

You start to move your hips with the help of Yoongi placing both hands on your waist and slowly moving you up and down on himself as you chew on your bottom lip to keep from screaming.

“I wish you could see what I see,” you hear Yoongi say from below you. “You’ve never looked so beautiful.”

You roll yourself down onto Yoongi steadily as you start at a moderate pace. The feeling of no barrier between you both clearly affects you just as much as Yoongi. Your hands lay against Yoongi's chest as you watch his head fall back in desire.

Your hips pick up the pace, bouncing up and down for Yoongi as he guides you with his hands still glued to your hips. You smile to yourself as you look at the man below you so lost in the feeling as he moans out loudly with every sink of your pussy on his cock. Seeing Yoongi lose his composure was as rewarding as it comes, filling yourself with pride.

A shift beneath you catches your attention and you nearly scream as the change allows the head of Yoongi’s cock to kiss the opening of your cervix repeatedly. Furthermore, Yoongi’s head comes up and takes a nipple straight into his mouth, using his tongue to swirl around the erect pebble, only increasing the desire.

He frees one of his hands from your hip and snakes it between the two of you, and presses his thumb against your clit, teasing it in tiny circles. You bounce yourself down harder on him, feeling the burn of the muscles in your thighs as you chase the pleasure you're so desperately needing.

“I don’t think I’m going to last, Yoongi,” you sigh. You bury your face against his shoulder and bounce so his cock slides in and out of your pussy faster.

“Fuck, you got this. Make me come, sweetheart,” Yoongi manages to stutter through gritted teeth.

Your nails rake over Yoongi's chest, leaving tracks of red and split skin at the force. Your eyes snap shut and your bounces get sloppier, losing the rhythm a little as you start to feel the pleasure build. The thumb that Yoongi has pressed against you begins to pick up its own pace, aiding you in finding your climax faster. You slide yourself down on his cock and roll your hips once you reach the base over and over again until your legs begin to shake.

Yoongi isn’t faring much better as his hips lift off the bed in search of his own euphoric bliss. He meets your bounces with a thrust of his own, causing your body to shake, and pleas of making you come leave your lips like a filthy prayer.

Bursts of pleasure erupting from your stomach spreads from deep inside your pussy. The butterflies in your tummy flutter in their hundreds as Yoongi finally tips you over the edge, your orgasm overtakes your body wholly consuming you.

Every nerve in your body is reactive as his fingers trails down your neck, through the valley of your breasts, and back on your clit as he plays with you through your pleasure. 

The feeling of you clenching and unclenching while you keep bouncing on him through your own orgasm is enough to keep Yoongi pulling your body down onto him. He thrusts once, twice before he buries himself so deep inside you and unloads ropes of sticky cum into your already messy cunt.

Your cunt wraps tightly around his dick as it pulsates with every shot of cum he empties into you. Yoongi's hips convulse and lift off the bed as he continues to force his load deeper, making sure none of what he has to give you goes to waste.

Swollen mouths meet in the middle as your tongue instantly slides past the seam of his lips and wraps around his own as you both bask in your mutually shared climax. You swallow each other's moans as you sigh in satisfaction with the familiar feeling of being filled by your husband one last time.

Breaking the kiss, you shift your weight out of Yoongi’s lap and crash against the soft comforter below, nuzzling your cheek into the cool sensation it brings to your heated skin. Yoongi isn’t too far behind you as he slides down the bed and lies himself behind you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

You can’t help but stare straight into the bare wall at the opposite side of the bedroom as a cold shiver runs down your back. You came here with a purpose and you need to see it through.

Removing Yoongi’s arm from around your body, you sit up and promptly tie your hair out of your face and gather your pants from the floor and redress yourself before walking out of the room and back towards the living area where the rest of your clothing was left.

“What’s gotten into you?” Yoongi sulks once he makes his way to you, watching you put your shoes on. “I thought you would want to stay?” He admits bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck.

Without an answer, you head towards his kitchen to find your handbag on the island. You unzip it and tug out the manilla envelope and pen from the leather material and walk back to Yoongi. Handing him the heavy package, you avoid eye contact and offer him the pen second.

Yoongi gives you a look of disdain as he snatches the envelope from your hands and tears open the band that is keeping it bound shut.

“APPLICATION OF DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE (DIVORCE)”

is written in large bold red writing at the top of the first sheet of paper.

“I want a divorce, Yoongi,” you reiterate for a second time tonight. “Tonight changes nothing.”

All of Yoongi’s fears that had hung in the air above him like taunting stars had finally come to a head. He can’t believe that the words had even left your mouth for a second time that night — especially after what moment you two had just shared.

Sure, six months ago he had a feeling that things might have led to this but he was so sure that the silence from you was you needing your space before coming back and wanting to fix things. To fix your marriage.

“____, please. Don’t. Don’t do this,” he pleads. “We can talk about this. We can work this out. It’s us,” he stresses, almost begs of you. Yoongi’s hand is quick to find your own and lace his fingers with yours tightly. “I know we can work this out. All couples have problems, we’re no different-,"

Scoffing, you interrupt him, pulling your hand from his hold fast. “Not all husbands cheat on their wives after they have just held their dead child in their arms.” You bark. “I’ve already made up my mind. I’ve already signed my part,” you sigh, pointing out your initials and signature, already dated a week from today's date.

“There is nothing left for us to figure out.”

[chidoroki]

Isabella - 73584

I had a serious debate with myself over whether or not I wanted to sit down and spend my weekend writing another one of these praise posts. I was content with just doing one for each of the Fullscore Trio kids and ending it there.. but apparently I love this woman too much to just ignore her on her birthday. So here were are on September 9th with a list of all her best and my personal favorite moments as to why I believe she’s such a great character, antagonist and mother (yeah you heard me right). Considering she only shows up in the beginning and very end of the story, this post ended up longer than I originally anticipated, which just goes to show how many thoughts I really have about this woman. (for real, this rivals Ray’s post in terms of points but there’s far more words)

Since she also has some backstory and certain events differ between manga and anime (thanks to the second season), I’ll try to go in chronological order between both timelines instead of chapter by chapter, which might be a bit confusing as we’ll jump around the story a lot but just to bear with me as I try to makes sense of it all.

(spoilers for the entirety of The Promised Neverland & ch181.7, so if you haven’t read/completed the manga yet, consider this your first warning, because I’m literally going from start to finish with this one last time. I promise.)

- I’m not sure how well she compares to Emma when it comes to athleticism, but Isabella seemed to have no trouble climbing up and down trees when she was younger.

- Not only that, but she managed to scale the wall by herself using a method that requires a fairly impressive jump. It’s also implied that this is how she climbs the wall again so many years later when chasing the soon-to-be escapees, which helps prove that even at an older age, she hasn’t lost her touch.

- Was chosen to undergo training to become a Mom, which required high test scores and the current mother’s recommendation. She accepted the offer in order to keep living and survive as human the demons couldn’t eat.

- Based on Sienna’s comment, is it fair to say Isabella is on par with the full score trio? I mean, the woman is basically flawless.

- She was practically untouchable during her time at headquarters while training too apparently. Mom positions are scarce so the environment where these ladies fight (physically/mentally/emotionally) to even snag that job is highly competitive, and yet Isabella never let anyone deter her from her goal of becoming a Mom, which probably led to the “Iron Lady” nickname she received now that I think about it.

- She was the youngest ever to be granted the Mom position at..what, 19? 20? Somewhere around there, but impressive nonetheless considering they’re forced to have a child, build up a strong, emotionless exterior and endure so much fear. (but my goodness, the woman doesn’t age at all. she looks just as good when the story actually starts as she did her when she was a bit younger)

- It became common knowledge among the Sisters that she was also very successful in the way she raised her children.

- Her success greatly benefited the farm, as she offered up countless high quality goods, which sounds terrible, I know, but believe me when I say she gave her best effort for her children. Even though she held the Mom position, the amount of power she actually had in this system was pretty minimal, especially with how much she valued her own life. She couldn’t afford to make any mistakes or risky changes, so she settled with doing the most with what she was capable of. She provided her children with a normal lifestyle, not only to keep up the orphanage facade, but knowing that their lives would all be cut shorter than they anticipate. She gave them love in hopes that no one would ever have to feel the dread she felt after Leslie’s death and/or finding out the truth. She tried to delay that horrific fate by encouraging them to learn all they can (like teaching the trio about strategy and chess) so they could achieve higher tests scores and (unknowingly to them) add a couple more months or years onto their lives. Yes it was her job to raise these children to such high standards but she excelled at it for their sake too.

- And I know y’all will just throw Ray in my face like, “oh but he was her actual child and she treated him horribly/different.” Okay but deep down I don’t think she actually wanted to? When they both realized they were truly mother and son, Isabella couldn’t just dote on him and start treating him as such. I’m sure Ray wasn’t too fond of Isabella at this point in his life either, knowing that she sent several of his siblings away to get killed. They probably would’ve gotten along just fine in a perfect world, but since they were both aware of the hell they’re trapped living in, they emotionally distanced themselves and formed a business-like relationship as a result of Ray’s deal, which benefited them both in different ways. For Ray, it was more practical, with the obvious notion of living as long as possible along with obtaining various rewards and knowledge of the outside world. For Isabella, it helped emotionally by simply just ignoring their true relation. I believe if she clung to that realization, it would break the orphanage illusion and eventually wear down her “Iron Lady” exterior that she relies so heavily on.

- Like can you imagine how much you would have to harden your heart in order to quite literally walk children to their death every couple months for years on end and just move on like it’s completely normal? Now imagine how earth shattering it must be to think about doing the same to your actual child. All those years spent perfecting a fake smile and emotionless exterior like she was trained to have and her son shatters it in an instant. She becomes completely terrified about how he’s actually alive and in front of her right now and there’s nothing she can do to truly save him.. and yet she still recovers so damn quickly I can’t even comprehend it! But there’s still some sadness in those eyes. You can’t tell me otherwise. That one moment of weakness speaks volumes to me.

- So now with her general backstory FINALLY out of the way, we can finally start with ch01/ep01 and how her laugh is sweet and innocent. I say that because (all hidden emotions and motives aside) that’s exactly how she’s supposed to sound in this moment, not only to us but to the children as well.

- She of course checks Emma’s tracker a moment later but other than that I still think it’s a pretty genuine moment between the two.

- As previously stated, her ability to raise high quality children is unmatched, which is clear as day thanks to the fullscore trio.

- Despite their crazy level of intelligence, the trio has yet to win a simple game of chess against Isabella, even when teamed up.

- She treasures everything about the kids.

- She really cares about them, even when it’s time to send them off with a smile, which we know is thanks to her strong facade.

- But mother dearest isn’t really fine. She doesn’t like walking kids to their death, especially so young. But she can’t let them (or even herself) know that. She can’t show weakness, so she hums Leslie’s song, which is a tool she’s used for years in order to give herself strength.

- Don’t worry, I disliked her this moment happened too, just as the story intended. And here’s where her fantastic antagonist role begins for all the world to see.

- A true champ at jump scares.

- Acts completely calm the night after a couple of kids found out the secret of the farm.

- She uses the tracker in plain sight, sending whomever went to the gate last night a threatening but silent message.

- Correct Norman, that’s the “Iron Lady” for ya. Also the name of ch03 for us. Well, “The Iron Woman” but same difference.

- She switches from calculating and manipulative breeder to sweet and pleasant mother so quickly and effortlessly it’s incredible. Isabella even checked Emma’s pulse in this scene to see if she was acting normal.

- At this point she still had no idea who went to the gate (Ray didn’t tip her off yet, at least I don’t think so) but her guess couldn’t have been more precise. The level of fear she drives into both Emma and Norman was great too, but then again her presence is enough in any scene to give us chills.

- Notices her watchdog isn’t at his usual post and starts to get suspicious.

- Not only of him, Emma and Norman, but Don and Gilda as well, thus giving the five extra chores to finish in an attempt to slow down any escape planning, such as cleaning vacant rooms, organizing the pantry and inspecting spare linen.

- While the trio believes Isabella was being too soft and patient in finding her targets, she effectively catches them off guard by bringing in Krone for assistance. The trio soon realize they were actually preparing the sister’s new room and those mundane chores were just an excuse to buy time.

- Look at her, all smug. Checkmate indeed. (and totally not important, but her eyes are such pretty shades of purple)

- The sass and her no nonsense attitude.

- Immediately puts Krone in her place the moment she even thinks about shipping out the targets. Of course holding off on shipping the targets would benefit the farm, as it would produce higher quality merchandise as time passes, but plant 3 is run by Isabella and she’ll be damned if an assistant thinks they could waltz right in and decide her children’s fate.

- She check’s Emma tracker again despite her claim of knowing exactly who the targets might be. You can never be too careful.

- Her precious children managed to win a game of tag against Krone, which is still impressive considering the kind of training the sister has gone through, so kudos to her teachings.

- Knows right away that Krone was trying to take advantage, which allows Krone to realize that the opening she had to learn more about the children was all planned by Isabella herself. Her intimidating nature is enough to scare adults too.

- Reveals that Krone was mostly summoned in order to keep Ray in check after his failure.

- Despite the trust issue, Isabella still keeps up her end of the deal by requesting the items Ray asked for, thanks to the odd perks she had under Grandma Sarah which allowed her to order goods that weren’t on the supply list.

- This hug between her and Phil is just too cute not to mention.

- I imagine she makes this comment because she knows exactly how long a rope must be based off her own almost-escape.

- It’s just something about how this scene is framed alongside this dialogue that makes me think “oh, like mother, like son.”

- I blame her very thoughtful planning for my first big freak out when I watched season 1 blind, like ma’am that’s my favorite boy, please don’t.

- She conspires with Grandma Sarah in order to get rid of Krone for good, which renders the evidence sister just found out about the children’s escape completely useless. Sarah believes there might be some truth to it, but ultimately ignores it and puts her faith in Isabella’s ability of controlling the children & the situation.

- She then cuts Ray off and ends their six-year long deal, opting to control the situation herself from now on. Also, how she wanted to keep him around until the very end is kinda bittersweet. Does she mean as merchandise? Or because she wanted him to live as long as possible? Ah such a tricky little comment.

- She also tosses him across the room like a rag doll.

- Thank god for this panel existing and actually being adapted into the anime so I could hear it because I had absolutely no memory of her laughing in this moment.

- “She says it so nonchalantly,” Norman said once upon a time, and it’s still so frightening.

- As insane as her ideals seem given the circumstances, nothing she says here is really a lie.

- She has the strength to quite literally break a leg and that cracking noise still haunts me to this day.

- It wasn’t even a spur of the moment thing either. Isabella came fully prepared with bandages to fix up any injury she was willing to inflict and that thought alone is terrifying.

- Not only that, but she broke it so cleanly that Emma’s leg does indeed heal perfectly in the exact time frame she estimates. This entire moment is so unfairly impressive, like ma’am how dare you do this to Emma of all people.. like why couldn’t you at least use that kind of force to snap Peter’s neck instead or something?

- To make matters worse, she then reveals Norman’s shipment date. And it’s the following day, which sends the kids into a very understandable panic.

- Needless to say, November 2nd, 2045 was a very successful day in the life of Isabella. Woman was putting everyone in checkmate in ep08 and my anger on full blast.

- This sly smile she sends Ray’s way after announcing Norman’s shipment to the younger kids is so cruel.. it’s perfect.

- I can only imagine she asked about Ray’s whereabouts because she knew the boys were close friends and she hoped they would at least say goodbye to one another, but that’s just me.

- Puts an end to Norman’s parting words in such a simple and chilling matter.

- The way she just openly threatens Emma with others just out of earshot.

- Norman out here asking the real questions. If anything, I say she’s more “content” rather than happy. I don’t think she’s ever really thought about her own happiness, at least not often enough, hence the slight pause. This entire time she’s been focusing on how to make her children’s lives perfect, but for herself she just wants to survive in this hellish world they’re all living in.

- I’m honestly still not sure who’s final decision it is to send people to Lambda, either Isabella, Peter or someone else (honestly never bothered to check), but whether or not Isabella had any say in the matter, I’m sure she’s at least a little glad that Norman gets to live a bit longer? Perhaps that’s a stretch, but I’m putting the idea here anyway.

- I say this because I believe that’s part of the reason why she offered Emma a Mom recommendation, not only because our girl’s high test scores, but in hopes that she could live a longer life.

- Although she really stresses in an intimidation fashion how pointless Emma’s efforts are now that Norman’s “dead,” the cliff remains a major hazard and her leg is still bandaged up, Isabella still tries so hard to convince her to give up, like Ray has, in order for Emma to end her own suffering. It was the first instance during my blind watch-through were I started to get the hint that Isabella might actually care about her kids, and of course I know now it’s because she didn’t want Emma to experience the same pain she did after Leslie’s death.

- With Emma and Ray both broken, things went by rather smoothly for Isabella those last two months, though she continued to keep a close eye on them.

- Her humming is so soothing. And why it took me this long to bring up “Isabella’s Lullaby” is beyond me, but oh my god, that song and any other soundtrack that uses its melody is absolute perfection.

- Had enough sense to not let her guard down the final night, even though her efforts were ultimately unsuccessful, but the idea counts.

- Though her caretaker side is focused on more during the fire, some motherly instincts do kick in as she instructs Gilda to get the babies from her room and lead everyone outside to safety. She was also concerned for Emma’s well being, hoping all the smoke didn’t get to her when the girl vanished. (i know you can argue “she’s only worried because they’re merchandise” which is fair but c’mon, i swear she’s not completely heartless)

- Took a hot minute (ahha) but Isabella eventually realized that the kids were actually escaping solely based on what they were wearing on their feet. I’m sure Emma’s discarded left ear was a big tip off too but to come to that conclusion by noticing the shoes they had on during all that chaos is surprising.

- She looks completely insane here but I always thought this shot of her was nicely animated with all the fire (or embers? sparks? whatever they are) flying around. The laugh she does before this is also a nice bonus. Oh, and she somehow managed to secure a radio from the room Don had locked.

- Figured the fifteen kids would head towards the bridge and called in headquarters to block it off.

- But when the children didn’t appear at the bridge, she just happened to know exactly where else they might try to cross the cliff.

- In the anime’s case, Isabella climbed the wall and ran there quick enough to engage in a stare down with Emma before she finally slid down.

- The moment I knew I was doomed.

- After the 15 kids successfully escaped, Isabella admits defeat, for she couldn’t really see how much her children have grown to outsmart her.

- This iconic quote, which conveys so much truth and sincerity. There were multiple occasions where she had to distance and restrain herself due to the system that controlled her, but the love she was able to show the children was genuine. If she wasn’t held back by the strict rules enforced by Mom position, I don’t doubt she would’ve treated Ray better or became far more emotional whenever a child had to leave for good or seriously injured, instead of donning a fake smile and being closed off.

- She realizes with this unspeakable loss in merchandise, the reputation she worked so hard to build up is meaningless now and that the farm no longer has any use for such an incompetent caretaker. She figures she’s as good as dead anyway now, so she wastes no time in actually helping the escapees by reclaiming the ropes to hide their exact method and route of escape, if only to grant the kids some extra time before the pursuers really locate them.

- She doesn’t act bitter as a result of her loss, instead choosing to wish the escapees luck with the future they grasped for themselves and care for the children that were left behind.

- She’s just so pretty y’all. Thank you anime.

- She was named “Best Antagonist” (and rightfully so!) back during the 2020 Crunchyroll Anime Awards, winning over Askeladd (Vinland Saga), Overhaul, (My Hero Academia), Garoua (One Punch Man,) & others.

(Post-season 1 spoilers ahead, even though the anime is completely finished at this point, but will be touching upon her special chapter more as well.)

- Completely owns up to her mistakes that caused the farm a massive loss in profitable goods and is ready to received whatever punishment necessary, which she expects to be death.

- Only.. she’s not being killed, she’s actually being promoted to Grandma. Though Isabella was directly responsible for the children’s escape, the blame ultimately falls on Sarah who couldn’t correctly control Isabella, thus leading the old lady to be shipped out in place of the goods Isabella lost.

- Peter also notes that the farm found more worth in Isabella than Sarah, so her past merits also played a part in sparing her life, as having a woman like Isabella in charge would surely produce the level of quality the farm needs.

- Isabella eventually accepts the promotion, though she can’t help but feel hesitant and shocked about the whole deal. This woman was ready to embrace death and finally be free from this cruel world, but now she has to witness not only more kids being shipped off, but moms and sisters in training as well (yay old chapter reviews coming in clutch).

- She could have very well just refused Peter’s offer, but we all know how much Isabella originally wanted to survive, so she doesn’t just accept because this man dangled a sense of freedom in her face, she also agreed so she could have the opportunity to help her children in any way her newfound power would allow her.

- Of course, her transition to Grandma happens a bit differently in the second season, but I will give some bittersweet thanks to the anime once more for the obvious but curse them for also having this entire scene dark as hell. Let me see her beauty darn it! I can only fix the lighting so much until it looks overexposed and bad again.

Anyways, Sarah is still alive at this point and taunts Isabella with the escapee’s lives just to see how she would react, which gave her a small sense of hope. Then some demons pay a visit later on and also ask if she would want to see the children one last time, but Isabella tells them that not only would she be too ashamed to face them but that they would manage to survive Grandma’s capture plan, which involved several men blowing up their shelter. It’s now clear to the demons that these children are special, and while Isabella agrees, it’s not for the same reason the demons think so. The demons believe the kids are special because of how they were raised to such a high quality. Isabella calls them special simply because they’re her children, just as any mother would.

- In the anime, it’s the demons who offer Isabella the Grandma deal if Sarah’s current plan were to fail (which it does) and she takes it and the freedom from Grace Field House without question. Do I still believe she had similar intentions to help out the children like she did in manga at this point? Of course.

- Not even a full month into her new job did she start preparing to help Emma & the others by considering who from the current Sisters she wanted to recruit to personally assist her destroy the farm entirely.

- A month later and Isabella had already decreased the number of shipments that took place at Grace Field, which obviously helps raise the quality of the children by default, but it also means less death and gives those kids a chance to live longer.

- She completely anticipated that Matilda, Jessica, Sienna & Scarlet were conspiring against her and caught them quite easily, as they were among the top scorers.

- Each had a fair chance at becoming Moms but with those positions limited, it was obvious to figure out they were trying to force Isabella’s seat open by creating some suspicious activity to place on her almost perfect record. Unfortunately for the girls, our new Grandma is too smart for her own good and I love it.

- The four women are apprehensive to join her insane plan to go against the farm, but Isabella assures them there’s no freedom if they follow the system’s rules and betray her. The harsh reality they’re all living in will continue unless they stop competing with one another and combine forces to defeat the true enemy.

- To persuade them further, Isabella mentions the children they all gave birth to are still alive, bringing out an array of emotions from the women that they each thought they had buried deep down.

- THIS! Just all of this is wonderful and shows just how much Isabella learned from her children who once defeated her.

- To fully gain the women’s trust, she gives them Ray’s farewell note that he originally left in order to bait Krone, as proof she won’t double-cross them at any point.

- I love the fact that she kept the note close to her because it acts just like all the other various toys and items she saved in her secret room back at plant 3. The original owners were all precious to her so she kept a piece of them behind to remember them in a place only she knew about. As I said before when mentioning her “I wish I could have just loved them normally” quote, all the love she had for her children had to be suppressed when she was under the system’s control, but that doesn’t mean she never cared. Because she did, and if I haven’t made at least that clear by now then I’m failing.

- Can her intentions and love for her children be any more clear? (possibly, i’m not done with this darn post yet. how you guys holding up? i’m going a little insane at this point.)

- Anyways! Second season didn’t make the rest of the story easy so apologies for any timeline mishaps as I switch between both anime and manga events from here on out.. like how in manga Isabella is informed of the escapee’s return to Grace Field via Peter, while the in the anime it’s her who helps lures them back with a fake transmission via the radio they stole.

- Just before Emma & the others do return to Grace Field on November 13, Isabella finally reaches out to the farm’s many other Sisters to recruit them. She waited until the right moment to inform them of her crazy takeover plan so Peter wouldn’t become suspicious from all of headquarters acting/thinking differently (you know, like how Emma kept the jailbreak plan under wraps until the night of). These ladies also feel a bit wary and even think of Isabella’s offer as a joke, but with some real, heartfelt encouragement, she manages to win over every single woman to her side.

- The moment when it was first revealed to us that she was not only still alive but was also promoted to Grandma is still so powerful.

- She snaps Nat’s finger back into place after Peter broke it. (and considering emma’s group infiltrates the farm right after this, i’m pretty sure that ch170 with rallying the sisters took place before this..i think?)

- Gave me a minor heart attack.

- *CLAPS FRANTICALLY!!!* The moment she truly won me over.


- While her betrayal against Peter in the manga is fantastic and quite possibly one of my favorite moments, the anime did give us a little something too. It shows Peter spewing utter nonsense to Emma about how she’s destined to fail, only for best girl to bite back with such a fantastic quote, and then Isabella drops the act and switches sides. While I agree Emma’s comeback is “wonderful,” it’s the English dub that completely wins me over in this scene by having Isabella comment “Now that’s my girl” instead, like bro.. hearing that makes me so happy.

- For real dude, you have several highly skilled women pointing guns at you, I think her betrayal is crystal clear.

- This is like the perfect example of how she had to conceal her feelings while bound by the system. She just misses these kids so much y’all but she can’t let her true emotions show yet.

- Having her call Peter a boy is beyond hilarious to me. Also, how she disagrees with him on so many levels is excellent, like how he believes in experimenting on kids and having the right to call yourself their parent just because you created them, while Isabella believes in raising and loving children normally and that you earn that parent title by actually being part of their lives. To be fair they both inflicted pain on kids (Nat’s finger/Emma’s leg) but Peter’s action was a mistake in itself. Isabella got frustrated back when Krone even threatened to ship out the kids who discovered the secret, so you can bet she’s probably pissed off at this boy for harming one of her kids on purpose.

- The best mother-daughter moment ever! It’s such a shame it never got truly animated since the second season decided not to give the children guns, but we get to see a small smile from Isabella after Emma decided to still call her “mom.”

- The anime never gave Peter the chance to run away, like he (somehow) managed to do in manga, so we had the chance to see someone actually shoot at him. Well, in his general direction at least. Isabella lands a perfect shot not even a full second after he pulls out that disc. Accuracy on point.

- Said this once or twice in the past in manga so I’m glad the anime brought it back.

- Remains cautious and keeps her gun raised at Peter when Emma approaches him and rightfully so considering he still had his knife hidden at this point.

- Refuses Emma’s offer to join the kids in the human world at first because she knows that her (& the sister’s) actions shouldn’t be forgiven so easily, but with some rather blunt sympathy from Ray and encouragement from her other children, she finally gives in.

- This entire post summed up in one image.

- She apologizes even though distancing herself from her kids and preparing them for death were just required of her role as a caretaker. She wouldn’t have done any of that in a normal world. (do i sound like a broken record yet? probably)

- The emotion you hear in her voice during this entire dub scene hits my heart in all the right places.

- She still thinks of Leslie after all this time and I think that’s real cute.

- Her protective nature is on full display when she protects Emma from this bastard of a demon. A truly surprising and heartbreaking moment, considering this is the woman who’s survival used to be her top and only priority in the past, but now doesn’t hesitate to give her life in order to save her kid (and by extension that small girl emma saved. also, major heart attack for me).

- Despite being critically injured, this woman still possess enough strength to hold back a demon twice her size. She doesn’t even pay any mind to its nonsense. Like the demon, people often think this is when redemption arc starts but I believe it started way back in ch37 when Isabella retrieved and hid the ropes the kids used to escape. Ever since she admitted defeat on the wall that night, she threw caution to the wind and began cheating the system in hopes to one day assist the kids achieve a brighter future. Despite all the work she’s done behind the scenes, Isabella believes there’s still so much more she can do to atone, so even though she’s already received the children’s forgiveness, she continues to assist them by jumping in and saving them directly from demons for once in her life.

- Ma’am it’s sweet you’re so concerned with their safety, but we should be asking you that question ya know? (but then again emma was the same way after she woke up from her coma).

- Knows that just apologizing and saving Emma isn’t enough to suddenly forgive all her actions and wants to do so much more for the children as a result. Even though I already acknowledged all her subtle and hidden moments, I wish we got to see her care for them more openly.

- I simply can not read through ch177 and not get emotional. No matter how hard I try, I always feel tears start to form in my eyes. Oh my god, how cruel that death can be this beautiful. It’s so unfair.

- *uses old chapter review because I’m too upset right now* “She apologizes for everything. For not treating him right and loving him as a mother normally would her own son. For making him despise his life so much and enduring so much pain that he thought the only escape was suicide.”

- “She leaves him with one last wish to protect everyone, and that completely breaks me because you know exactly how much they both care for their family. Not only would they literally die for their family, but they would live for them too if someone asked. Truly like mother, like son.” (aaaaaahhhhh)

- Her, umm.. ghost (along with Conny’s & Yuugo’s) help Ray reunite with Emma in 2049.

- All my tears aside, the anime did something right by actually keeping her ALIVE!

- Have you ever seen something so GODDAMN BEAUTIFUL in all your life?? This image is so powerful it literally tossed aside any salty feelings I had that night with how the second season ended. Seeing her like this grants me so much happiness y’all, it’s truly unbelievable. I still can’t get over it and hopefully I never will.

Okay, now I’m done, thank god. Sorry this is like ridiculously long, especially since she’s absent for sooo many chapters. Also find it so hilarious how drastic my opinion of her changed from the beginning to now, from “bitch” to “oh my god I love her so much.” I know people will always have opposing opinions whether she’s actually a good mother or not and that’s totally fine. Wasn’t trying to convince y’all of that either because yes, some of her actions are real unforgivable, but she was suffering under the farm system too and just followed through with what she was trained to do in order to survive, but while other Sisters fought to climb ranks and help themselves survive, Isabella ultimately wanted the best for her children. The more power she gained, the more risks she took and once the system crashed so did her facade.

An absolute queen.

[danny-chase]

Delirium - read on AO3

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman (Comics), Titans (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tim Drake & Damian Wayne & Dick Grayson, Roy Harper & Lian Harper, Lian Harper & Dick Grayson, Lian Harper & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Roy Harper, Tim Drake & Roy Harper Characters: Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Roy Harper, Lian Harper Additional Tags: Hopsitals, delirious, Anxiety, Panic, POV Tim Drake, Canon Divergence, Good Sibling Tim Drake, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Tim Drake is Bad at Feelings, Hurt Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson is Batman, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Damian Wayne is Robin, Lian never died, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Dick Grayson gets a forehead kiss, Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Caring Batfamily (DCU), fluff at the end, Teen Titans as Family, Tim Drake emotional whump, Damian Wayne emotional whump, Lian Harper is a ray of stubborn sunshine on a cloudy day, gunshot wound, Head Wound, Coloring Books Series: Part 4 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Summary:

The one where Tim has to be the oldest for like five minutes and decides he doesn't like it (but does a good job anyways).

Full story under cut

“Alvin? Alvin… Draper?” A nurse called from across the room. Tim pulled his head out of his hands, careful not to jostle his fake moustache. “This way please.” She intoned, waving a hand towards a bustling hallway.

Damian nearly leapt out of the stiff plastic chair, and he slowly followed suit, trying to act causal. He doubted he was fooling anyone; his legs shook as he walked forward, and he was pretty sure he left a ring of butt sweat on his seat. Taking deep breaths to calm his fraying nerves, he concentrated on taking steady steps forward – he didn’t care much for Damian, but there was no way he’d let a child go through this sort of thing alone. Especially one who probably had never visited someone in the hospital (let alone been in one) before.

 He’d gotten a panicked call from Barbara a few days ago. Gotham in ruins, streets in chaos… the usual. Bruce was gone. He couldn’t miraculously pull them out of these things anymore. The first Batman was dead, and this time… they could lose the second.

 “Report.” Damian demanded, his harsh tone penetrating Tim’s thoughts. He was suddenly aware of the chaos of the hallway, of people jostling them as they rushed by, a cacophony of machines squealing and loud voices, and bright lights illuminating tacky flooring. He’d fallen a pace behind and quickened his step to stand firmly next to his… little brother.

 As much he’d tried to deny it, at the end of the day, that’s what bound them. Fealty to a dead man, he’d once hoped they could be something more – but this family was ripping apart at the seams and Tim had to wonder what even kept them all here anymore.

 Though – that wasn’t hard to figure out.

 Dick was in trouble, and he came running. He’d been in trouble and Dick had come running. They were brothers in every sense of the word, without Bruce tying them together. His stomach clenched at the thought that it might all be lost to him forever, and he swallowed the bile burning at the top of his throat.

 Dick had this way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world – when you talked to him, he listened, gave advice, and would drop anything to help. He quickly crawled his way into your life, cementing you as family. Things were never perfect, and they’d had their fights, but Dick always bent first, forgiveness freely given rather than earned. Tim had needed that. And from what little time they’d spent together, he knew Damian did too.

 Panic. That was the only way to describe how he felt. He couldn’t be that for Damian – he couldn’t be Dick. He let out a shaky breath – Dick had to be fine – he couldn’t – not after Bruce – he couldn’t do this again – he was on the verge of shattering after finally picking up all the broken pieces of himself and –

 “I said, report.” Damian squeaked. He jolted back into reality, steading his breath, and replaying the last few minutes, his mind trying to catch up.

 The nurse seemed unamused, her nostrils flaring and brow tight as she glanced back. “Sorry, my brother’s a little uhh… stressed…?” He stammered, not wanting to offend Damian – or worse, start an argument in a crowded hallway. But he didn’t flinch at the comment, a testament to the seriousness of the situation they found themselves in.

 Dick was shot in the back of the head, and Tim honestly had no idea if they’d gotten him medical attention in time. He could be comatose for the rest of his life, would never breathe on his own, never talk to them again, never walk, never think, never… god… he’d never talk to Dick again, and it was all his fault for being too late, too unprepared, too much of a failure to-

 “The operation went well, we need to keep him for observation, but we’re hopeful he’ll make a full recovery in a month or two.” Tim blinked back tears as a weight lift off his shoulders, bringing a hand up, covering his eyes for just a second. He looked up to find Damian frozen; too stunned to move. He gently placed an arm around his shoulders, tugging him along so he wouldn’t be swept up in the tide. Surprisingly, that much was allowed today, the child’s thoughts were elsewhere, so Tim focused his thoughts on him.

 Damian was only ten. And he’d almost lost Dick to a fate worse than death, after seeing him shot before his eyes, helpless to stop it. They didn’t have hospitals in the League, it was kill or be killed, and then there were the pits. Had he ever watched someone recover naturally?

 “He’ll be okay.” Tim hissed, in a tone that only Damian could hear. Damian startled back into the present, glaring at him briefly, shaking off Tim’s hand, and storming after the nurse. He kept his expression carefully out of view.

 They turned into a private hospital room, pulling the door shut behind her, and winked. “Timothy Drake-Wayne and Damian Wayne, I presume.”

 He could feel the kid freeze beside him, his own heart threatening to escape his throat.

 “Oh, sorry - don’t panic, I’m with STAR Labs, we’ve worked with Richard and his team for years.” Damian huffed in annoyance. “Your identities aren’t compromised; Oracle made the arrangements for our team to take over when he arrived.” She passed her clipboard to Tim. “The walls are soundproof, you can stay as long as you want, I trust you can get out on your own, and it’s not like I’m going to stop you if you decide to stay longer than I recommend.” She sighed. “Just, don’t distress the patient, he’ll be confused when he wakes up, it’s normal. Call if you need, our monitoring systems are top notch, we’ll be watching – but not listening of course.”

 And with that, the nurse turned on her heel, exiting as fast as she’d arrived, leaving Tim opened mouthed next to a wide-eyed Damian.

 He watched as the door slowly turned on its hinges, picking up speed until it slammed shut. Almost immediately it popped back open. “If he tries to get up, don’t let him escape.” She rolled her eyes. “You human patients are always the worst.” And with that, she was gone. A few awkward, silent moments passed.

 “Are you coming, Drake?” Damian’s voice had lost its normal edge, as he determinedly stared at the windows. He couldn’t see Dick from where they stood, but he could make out the edge of the bed, a pure white sheet neatly tucked under the edge.

 He shifted, hesitantly - he always hated this part. But regardless, he took the lead, striding forward, and allowing Damian the comfort of walking in someone’s shadow. Because even if he wouldn’t say it, there was no way the kid wanted to do this alone. He couldn’t replace Dick – was thankful he didn’t have to, but this – this was the least he could do.

 Hospital beds have this way of making the people inside them seem smaller. Tim braced himself as he stepped into view, and well, it could be worse. Dick was out cold, drooling on his pillow still hooked up to a few monitors, which steadily droned and beeped in the background. A lump of gauze and bandages swathed the base of his skull.

 Damian flitted past his side to sit in the chair next to the bed, and Tim sprang into action, taking the chair next to the window. He flipped through the charts without really reading anything, and the two sat in stony silence. Pulling out his phone, he scrolled through dozens of missed calls and unanswered texts before shoving it back in his pocket.

 He spared a glance at Damian - he was curled up in the chair, grimacing and staring at the wall. He didn’t dare try saying anything more, lest they start fighting in Dick’s hospital room. He contented himself with staring out the window, watching the dawn break, violets and purples dancing across the sky. The sun rose with pinks and oranges blossoming soon after.

 Things would be okay. They had to be okay. He slowed his breathing, focusing on the sky rather than the scent of disinfectant. The steady beep of machines slowly fading into the distance. Closing his eyes, he could pretend for a moment, that this was normal. He was in a hotel, maybe on a vacation, in some city that wasn’t destroyed every few months. There had to be a place like that still out there.

 A little chickadee hopped around on the windowsill, fluttering back and forth, before flying off again. “Bye.” Tim snapped to attention, whirling around to find Dick squinting out the window. Damian sprung out of his chair. “Bruce?” He asked confusedly, frowning at Damian.

 Panic flickered across the kid’s face, and he recoiled, stepping back. “No. I’m Damian, don’t be foolish.” His voice wobbled at the end, and Tim’s heart throbbed painfully at the way Damian stiffened, meticulously shutting off any signs of vulnerability.

 “Remember what the nurse said, he’s going to be confused for a bit.” Tim reminded, striding over to sit at the edge of the bed. Dick went back to looking at the now closed window. “Dick, you with us?” He leaned into Dick’s line of sight, trying for a smile, and waited for a minute before leaning back. “I’m going to take that as a no.”

 “-tt-” Damian stepped forwards again. “Don’t bother him, Drake.” He spat.

 Tim didn’t really know what to say, so he didn’t say anything at all. Damian climbed back into his chair, tucking his legs up to sit crisscrossed, his back stiff and upright. Tim grabbed his chair, pulling it closer to the edge of the bed. He placed a hand over Dick’s, rubbing a finger over his knuckles, taking comfort in the fingers twitching slightly under his own.

 Dick was alive. He would live. Would recover. He hadn’t lost his older brother.

 “His name’s Tim.” Dick mumbled after a few minutes. Damian rolled his eyes. “Tim.” Dick repeated, his eyes glassy as they gazed through Damian’s forehead.

 “Yeah?” Tim lightly tapped Dick’s hand. He didn’t move from his focus.

 “Tim. Tim. Tim. Tim.” He continued repeating Tim’s name, staring up at the ceiling.

 “Why is he doing that?” Damian demanded, jumping out of his chair. Dick obliviously repeated the word, seemingly unaffected. “Drake, she said the operation went <em>well</em>.”

 “I dunno.” He sighed, Dick probably had no idea what was going on, nor would he remember this. “Look, he’s delirious, he’s going to be messed up for a bit. He got shot in the head.”

 “I know that. I was there. But if the operation was successful, then why-”

 The door opened, and they fell silent, footsteps approaching. Roy Harper poked around the corner; a phone pressed to his ear. “Okay, he doesn’t look too bad, all things considered. Hey, you, kid, you should actually answer your fu-fudging phone.”

 “That’s a dollar for the swear jar.” A little girl, Lian, he presumed, materialized at his side. She carried a bag with her and zoomed over to Damian. “Daddy says you like to color, so I brought crayons.” She grabbed a pack from her bag and shoved them at him. Damian looked mildly disgusted but took them anyway. “Say thank you.” Lian demanded.  

 Damian opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Tim glanced at Roy, he winked, doing his best not to laugh as he finished talking with whoever was on the phone.

 “Thank you.” Dick replied, patting Lian’s head. His eyes seemed to find hers before darting away to stare at the ceiling.

 “Not you.” She groaned. “Him.” She pointed at Damian.

 “Thank you.” He repeated. Lian cracked a smile, giggling.

 “Don’t laugh, it isn’t funny – he’s delirious.” Damian replied harshly, eyes narrowing. Lian shrugged, turning, almost sizing him up. She was only maybe an inch shorter than him, if he had to venture a guess.

 “Uncle Dick is always happier when you laugh.” She pointed out. “It’s contagious.” Sure enough, a wide looping grin had materialized on Dick’s face.

 “But we’re in a hospital.” Damian looked outraged; his hands balled in little fists.

 “Daddy says laughter is the best medicine.” She retorted, crossing her arms. Roy tossed his phone (it landed perfectly in the center of the little dresser next to the bed), and scooped up his daughter in a big hug, sweeping her off the ground.

 “Look, kid.” He looked down at Damian. “I know this is scary and it sucks, but my kid’s got a point.” He kissed the top of her head, prompting more giggles. “She’s a smart cookie, and this isn’t exactly her first rodeo.” Damian’s ears flushed, his face unchanged, but his ears beet red.

 “This is not my first rodeo, and if you were more competent, than-”

 “If Dick was a dumb-, I mean, if he was more competent, we wouldn’t be here.” Roy pointed out, speaking over Damian. Lian smacked his face lightly.

 “Daddy, that’s rude.” Roy rolled his eyes. Dick started speaking in a language Tim vaguely recognized, looking displeased at the argument.

 “Sweetie, I’m trying to make a point.” He set her down, ruffling her hair. “Why don’t you get out the coloring book and let Damian pick out a page.” Damian opened his mouth to comment, but Roy cut him off. “Look, you should see how happy Dick is when Lian gives him coloring pages. I think he’s earned one from you.” Damian closed his mouth. His brain seemingly compiling the information. “What she said isn’t wrong, he’ll recover faster if he’s happier, Timbo, you’re a bat-nerd, back me up here.”

 “Well according to a study done in-” Roy held up a hand.

 “Point made, don’t put me to sleep.” Tim rolled his eyes, remembering why he used to avoid hanging out with (some of) Dick’s friends. For now, he joined Roy in staring down Damian, Lian gazing at him too, an unlikely team up in a battle of wills.

 “Only if Drake makes one too.” Damian miraculously relented after a few minutes. Tim nodded, peace from Damian was worth doing some coloring. Dick would be incredibly happy – these pages would likely be framed; it would be worth it to see the smile on his face. It was worth it now to see Lian’s face light up, as she rushed to unpack her things.

 “Oh, and I brought Uncle Dick a stuffy.” She pulled out a stuffed elephant and placed it in the crook of his elbow. “Say thank you.” Dick replied – still not speaking anything he could place, and Lian smiled, Dick smiled back.

 “What’s he been saying?” Tim asked, looking to Roy, as Damian slid to the floor, selecting coloring pages with Lian. Roy sat on the side of the bed, carefully leaning Dick forward, to get a better look at the back of his head. He whistled, ignoring Tim for a moment.

 “You really did it to yourself this time, jeez Dickie.” He muttered to himself before turning back. “He’s speaking Navajo, he was counting to ten earlier, and he told Lian thanks.” Roy rolled his eyes. “Would you believe his pronunciation is always better when he’s like this?”

 “No, that seems on brand.” Tim mused. “Apparently my French gets exponentially better the less I’ve slept.” Roy shrugged, and turned back on Dick.

 “Quit rubbing off on the kids, you don’t want them to turn into you, yah? Bunch a’ weirdo bat-nerds.” Dick was apparently, not listening, and was more into petting the plushy.

 “Zitka.” He replied, showing it to Roy. Roy patted his shoulder.

 “Yeah buddy, I know. Isn’t she cute?” He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Dick’s forehead. Something seemed to click in Tim’s brain, as Dick garbled on, fascinated by the toy.

 “How many times have you done this?” He asked, watching as Roy leaned back, taking the seat next to the bed. He shrugged.

 “I stopped counting after Blood fried his brains, back when he ran around in a V-neck.” Tim cringed, that was before he even became Robin. “Don’t look like that, he didn’t die.” Not that time, or this time – but things had been too close for comfort more times than Tim wanted to think about. Roy’s fingers drummed against the armrest. “I don’t know, Garth tried out the elephant thing a while back. It keeps him happy.” He pulled a book out of Lian’s bag, starting to flip through the pages. “Take nap kid – you look deader than him. Lian and I got this covered.”

 Tim leaned back in his chair, tucking his legs up with him. He watched as Dick happily turned the toy over and over in his hands, blearily blinking at the world. Damian was quiet where he sat on the floor, inspecting each of the colors. By the time he put his first stroke to paper, Tim was already fast asleep.

[finiteuniverse13]

Bravo's Banned List

With the help of @bravo-four-seal-team, @@jayhalsteadfan-2417 and @rebelwrites, we made a list.

A list, posted on various walls throughout the Naval base, the plane and the cage room. About 1/3 of it is typed up, the rest is in hastily written pen. Made by Blackburn to try and corral Bravo. It's doing its best.

Tag: @rebelwrites @chibsytelford @bravo-four-seal-team @velvetcardiganbucky @supervalcsi @abby-splace @itsonautopilot @thegirlwhoisalwayswriting @pinkrockstar19 @softi92 @mrsmarvelous1995 @jayhalsteadfan-2417

Just so you're all aware, this is a 6.5-page document.

0: On the days of Adam and Swanny’s Death, leave the group be to remember them. I will not protect you.

1: Brock Is Not Allowed Coffee. No exceptions.

1.1: Do not leave Metal alone with Brock when Coffee is around.

2: Dick jokes are not required in briefings

3: If a single one of you bastards get between me and my coffee, we will be having issues

5: You made the dog sad; you die.

8: DO NOT GIVE THEM NERF GUNS

9: WHO THE HELL GAVE THEM WATER GUNS

9.1: STICKS DO NOT GIVE THEM STICKS THEY WILL PRETEND THEY ARE GUNS

10: Dirt bikes (don’t ask)

11: ARCHERY IS A BIG NO

12: FISHING. WHY AM I BANNING FISHING

13: Fire. That is all

14: KNIVES. WHY ARE YOU GIVING THEM KNIVES?

15: LADDERS (NEVER AGAIN)

16: PLASTIC CUTLERY ONLY UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES GIVE THEM METAL CUTLERY

16.1: Scratch that, they stab people with the metal cutlery. Let them suffer the consequences of their actions. They can eat with their hands.

17: MEMES ARE NOT ALLOWED IN THE MEETING ROOM

18: Horse riding. (METAL IT IS NOT A TACTICAL DISMOUNT ITS CALLED FALLING AND GETTING A CONCUSSION)

19: BOY BANDS (not allowed to be played on the plane)

19.1: GIRL BANDS (for the love of god, they will try and imitate them)

19.2 RAP MUSIC (they think they are the next Eminem and will make your ears bleed)

20: Do not tell Jason he is not allowed to do something. He finds a way to do it

20.1: Apparently Ray will do the exact same without question

21: Do not leave any members of the team with upper brass. (How did you make an Admiral with years of combat CRY!)

22: Clay is under Jason’s protection don’t go after him they will not find your body

22.1: If Clay calls Jason dad just leave it ok

22.2: Actually, check on Jason, he’s been standing staring for the past hour now

23: Hairdryers are banned (HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET YOUR BEARD CAUGHT SONNY)

24: Only Trent is allowed to call Metal by his legal first name. Ensign Williams learnt that one the hard way.

25: Paintball is banned from the base the last time it was extreme and got violent

26: The transformers movies because clay tried to do a stunt it ended badly

27: Thumbtacks apparently

28: Any Marvel movie (Jason you’re not Captain America)

28.1: DC movies are out as well

28.2: Disney Princess movies as well (don’t ask)

30: Do not leave phone unlocked around Sonny, he will not hesitate to change everything

36: DO NOT LET THEM GET SO DRUNK THEY START SINGING. IF I HEAR IN THE NAVY ONE MORE TIME, I WON'T BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR MY ACTIONS

37: IF THERE IS SILENCE DROP EVERYTHING AND START HUNTING AND PANICKING

38: Grenade launchers are not required for every mission Trent

39: WHO GAVE METAL A SWORD

42: Yes, Clay does know an Admiral by name. Don't ask questions you don't want answers to.

45: If Clay starts angrily ranting in a foreign language, don't worry. He's thinking out loud, not plotting to destroy the base

45.1: If Clay is calmly talking in a foreign language just back away slowly

48: SpongeBob is a Bad Idea because they are way too Annoying and make References (I’m looking at you, Clay)

52: Sharpies. When I find whoever gave me this sharpie tattoo sleeve, there will be hell to pay

56: DO NOT LET CLAY HAVE A GRIMM REAPER OUTFIT! THIS IS THE THIRD TIME HES NEARLY GIVEN SONNY AND TRENT A HEART ATTACK AT 3 AM

57: Red paint. I went to check something at 3 am and Clay was painting a satanic ritual on the floor

58: 3 am checks are a bad idea. (I have seen things, people!)

62: Explosives are to be locked away when not on mission Sonny and Clay will try and play catch with a live homewrecker

62.1: I expected Metal as a Master Chief to know better - he falls under the same rule as Clay and Sonny.

63: Don't wake Clay when he is sleeping back away slowly and leave the room

64: If I'm sleeping, back away and leave the room. Interrupt me if they've broken a rule, or if the base is actively being bombed. If not, I don't care.

65: Have multiple phone chargers or they will disappear and you’re not getting them back

68: If you call Clay anything other than a nickname expect to get punched or stabbed or sniped in the ass when least expected

68.1: Metal will stab you. Please remember he has a shovel and lye in his truck (WHY DO YOU HAVE IT)

68.2: Don't try to take the shovel and lye off of Metal

69: NEVER say the number 69 around them they are all immature children and expect tongue in cheek comments

70: NEVER interrupt Sonny when he is eating breakfast, he is grumpy in the morning

72: If they are all asleep make no sound - YOU WAKE THEM THEY ARE YOUR PROBLEM NOT MINE

73: For the love of god, stop giving Clay earth mineral nicknames. This is the third time this week I've watched Sonny empty limestone dust from his pack

75: Do not give them hammers! What is wrong with you people?

79: Do Not talk to Trent unless it’s after 2 coffees

83: For the love of god, don't ask Metal if he ever did nude modelling in art school. He will begin stripping, literally anywhere

91: Cerberus is a good boy and you hurt Brock you die

98: Super Glue (never again)

99: MY COFFEE IS OFF LIMITS WHOEVER PUT SALT IN IT WILL PAY

100: Do not give in to their peer pressure while they are drunk, I will not be doing it again

100.1: WHY AM I HEARING IN THE NAVY AGAIN?!

100.2: Sweet Caroline won't work twice

100.3: WHY ARE YOU SINGING BARBIE

100.4: SONNY, CLAY IS NOT A BARBIE GIRL

103: Don't tell Sonny he looks good in pink because you better believe he will keep wearing it (and probably some girl clothes too) to keep getting compliments

114: I ALREADY WROTE SUPER GLUE WHY DO I NEED TO WRITE IT AGAIN

115: HAIR DYE (Why did you dye Metal and Trent’s hair pink?!)

115.1: Face paint (Sonny, their faces did not need to match their hair)

116: Do NOT touch Clay, Charlie team learnt that, and someone ended up nearly losing a finger. (And it wasn’t because of the dog)

117: If they offer you a drink whilst smirking DO NOT take it

118: Sea shanties – if I hear one more SEA SHANTY while we are FLYING

119: If you hear someone shout incoming, run, it’s not an attack, it is Bravo, someone has done something and they’re coming to tell me

120: Vegemite is not allowed in the base after Jason let Clay eat it

121: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (JASON I DONT CARE IF YOU THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNY TO ACT LIKE LEO IT WAS A BAD MOVE)

122: Hawaii 5-0, if I hear one more thing about how we should hang people of the rook of buildings I am going to shoot someone

124: Mortal Kombat (Clay was acting like Scorpion for a month)

130: Itching Powder (looking at you Brock)

131: DO NOT TOUCH JASONS TOMATOES - you will get a bamboo cane jammed into your thigh

134: Capes - YOU ARE NOT SUPERMAN CLAY STOP PRETENDING YOU CAN FLY BY JUMPING OFF THE HOOCHES

134.1: Edna Mode said NO CAPES - I EXPECT NO CAPES WORN BY ANYONE ON MY TEAM

138: Laser Tag is fun until someone gets hurt (Sonny and Clay you know what happened)

138.1: Laser Tag! (Ray needed to go to the hospital guys, come on)

143: Basketball. My nose will never be straight again.

144: Bravo and Ice skates don’t mix (the only person good on them is Jason but no other member of Bravo is allowed on the ice again)

144.1: Same goes for rollerblades

145: Ash Spencer is not allowed to be alone with Clay (Jason punched him last time he was on base)

145.1: Do not leave Jason, Metal or Sonny alone with Ash Spenser, it’s going to end up with a murder charge.

146: Clay is Jason’s adopted kid and needs to be supervised when Jason is away

151: SLIME - FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DONT GIVE THEM SLIME

152: GLITTER WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE

153: SCISSORS - Jase cut a chunk of Clay’s hair in the night now the base is a war zone

153.1: DONT FUCK WITH COVERBOY'S HAIR see point 68 for consequences

154: NAIR (why do you even have it?)

156: Call Of Duty (Clay must be supervised when playing it)

157: Do Not leave Clay unattended with Metal (They are both recovering from the ONE CHIP/DEATH CHIP Challenge)

158: Marshmallows (don’t ask)

163: The Hunger Games (are not a good training exercise)

164: The Olympus Has Fallen movies are not allowed to be mentioned in any given time)

173: If you mention the word ice-cream just run, run for your life

176: If I am sleeping STOP THROWING PAPER AT ME

177: Yelling FOR NARNIA is not an appropriate battle cry

178: The Fast And Furious movies (Clay you are not Brian so stop)

182: Nap time is important if their asleep do something else but if you wake them run like hell

190: Any movies about WAR are BANNED (I need a drink to talk about that one)

200 (From Bravo): Blackburn isn't allowed any more paper

200.1 (From Bravo): or pens

200.2: (Blackburn) Handcuffs. They handcuffed me to my desk and wrote that

200.3 (Blackburn): Bravo will not be allowed to tell their Commanding Officer what to do

202: Who keeps giving them superglue? This is the 8th time we are having to unglue Sonny and Clay’s hands

203: Do not let any of them take point on Briefing EVER

205: Are you serious? Paperclips! Do not give them PAPERCLIPS

206: Leaving anyone unattended with fire is a bad idea - I can still smell burning

210: This is Sparta (Jason don't kick people off the roof)

210.1: JASON I SAID NO KICKING PEOPLE YOU DONT LIKE OFF THE ROOF

213: Ash Spenser is not allowed on base. DEVGRU heard about what kind of dad he is, and now its kill-on-sight

213.1: WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT ASH BEING ON BASE

214: Puppy dog eyes because Clay has been using them on anyone to get out of doing paperwork

215: RAY STOP DOING JASONS PAPERWORK

216: GO TO A HOSPITAL IF INJURED, TRENT HAS A LIFE OUTSIDE OF YOU LOT

217: THE GLEE CAST SOUNDTRACK IS NOT TO BE USED ON THE BASE

218: DO NOT PUT LION KING ON - they will cry like babies and there’s no consoling them over Mufasa

220: If I have to explain why BRAVO will not be joining teaching GREEN TEAM please see rule 1 and understand from that then ask the Green Team Instructor. (Brock terrified them by running the O Course in 30 minutes, all because someone gave him coffee)

220.1: And yes, that is the on the 50-minute-record O course. The time hasn’t been counted since it involved performance-enhancing substances

221: WHO THE HELL INTRODUCED THEM TO FROZEN

221.1 NO I DONT WANT TO BUILD A BLOODY SNOWMAN

221.2: WE WERE DEPLOYED TO SERBIA YOU BASTARDS

222: Gray’s anatomy (That is all)

227: VAPES - YOU DONT SMOKE AND ARE NOT PUFF THE MAGIC FUCKING DRAGON (clay I’m looking at you)

228: HATS ARE NOT ALLOWED IN BRIEFINGS (Sonny you know what you did)

229: MAGIC MIKE AND MAGIC MIKE XXL (still haunts my dreams)

233: I am begging you can you please BE NICE TO THE FLEET ADMIRAL (it's the 3rd time he's left in tears)

234: Chocolate - just run ok

235: Please stop re-enacting the screen from titanic when we are on a boat (I’m looking at you Brock)

235: PIZZA NIGHT IS A FREE FOR ALL AND IF YOU DONT WANT A BROKEN NOSE JUST BACK AWAY

236: Jokes. JOKES ARE BANNED - IF I NEED TO EXPLAIN WHY I WON'T BE HAPPY – NO ITS NOT FINE TO JOKE ABOUT THE FACT YOU HAVE BEEN STABBED CLAY

236.1: STAB WOUNDS ARE NOT ADDITIONAL POCKETS

237: Monopoly got violent last time and Jason got punched

237.1: In fact, any board games turn violent even snakes and ladders

237.2: Board games. Just please stop playing board games

240: Why am I revisiting the nerf guns people? IT WAS A FAMILY BARBECUE! (You lot need to learn to let your kids win!)

241: Brock is banned from Cooking - I do not want food poisoning again

244: WE DO NOT NEED A FLASH MOB EVERY TIME DONT STOP MOVING BY SCLUB 7 COMES ON

246: If they pass out around the fire pit for the love of god move them Clay and Sonny tend to like melting the sole of their boots on the flames even when passed out

251: Plastic cups only (this rule is to stop sonny from smashing them)

254: Why am I needing to revisit Sharpies? They aren’t allowed them, give them Crayola's or crayons

254.1: Scrap that YOU CAN’T EAT THE CRAYONS

256: Clay you are not Spiderman get off the walls

257: WHO GAVE COFFEE TO BROCK!!

257.1: THIS IS RULE ONE ON THE LIST WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU

258: Don't mention Hawaii five 0 just don't

258.1: They will attempt the intro to it, it’s just painful

259: Don't mention Harry Potter because they will all cry over different characters deaths

287: Soup is now banned (Ray. I honestly thought you were the normal one of the team. I am disappointed)

321: If you see Clay and Sonny cuddling just walk away, pretend you didn’t see anything, one of them had a bad day and the other is the only one they will confine in

322: Don't mention the Philippines or India just don't

330: If Metal and Trent are talking, just leave them be. (No one wants to know if Metal is yelling about something stupid Trent did)

331: Popcorn is not allowed on base it ended up in everyone's gear

342: Non-Aerosol Deodorant. (Two of them tried to eat it before realising it wasn't edible)

344: Aerosol Deodorant. (Metal and Sonny used it with lighters. to create a flamethrower)

344.1: Side note LIGHTERS ARE BAD

345: Headphones. DO NOT ASK

346: Rubber bands are not slingshots

FINAL NOTE: FROM BRAVO - BLACKBURN LOVES US REALLY PLEASE IGNORE THE ABOVE LIST ITS ALL LIES

[nestasgalpal]

Walk me through it [Nessian fic]

Fixing ACOSF part 5

Masterlist | AO3

Summary: Cassian accompanies Nesta to the cottage in the Mortal Lands where she and her sisters used to live, so she can get closure.

Tagging:  @gwynriel​ @rhaenystargaryn​ @clolikescloquetas​ @amelievrstr​ @t8astr8ng @wanderlustlastsforever @saltydreamcollector​ @lordlorcan​ @esrahiba​ @queenestarcheron​ @ko0mbayamylord​  @jemstan300​ @nessiantrashh​ @mothergwyn @poisonus-bloom  @loveadora  @frosted-crackers​  @mireillemystique​ @pataytayo​ @968sunflower968​ @caram267​ @jainadurron​ @darkshadowqueensrule​ @amphiptree​ @finae-bookshelf​ @niytavia​ @brainlessfruit​ @dontgetsalmonella​ @messyhairday-me​ @sunsummoner​  @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens​ @wannawriteyouabook​ @psychoticminx​ @misswonderflower​​

N/A: Sorry I erased the comment about Feyre painting the cabin in Illyria but I didn’t get what that had to do with anything lol.

Nesta’s heart thundered as she laid a hand against the cold wooden door. Claw marks still gouged it.

“Tamlin’s handiwork, I take it?” Cassian asked behind her.

Nesta shrugged, unable to find the words. She and Elain had rehung the door after Tamlin had broken it. Their father, his leg wrecked beyond repair and unable to bear weight, had watched them, offering unhelpful advice.

Her fingers curled into a fist and she shouldered the door open. Its rusted hinges objected, creaking, and a dusty, half-rotten scent swarmed her nose. Her cheeks heated. For Cassian to be here, to see this—

“Just a brute, remember?” He stepped to her side. “I’ve lived in far worse. At least you had walls and a roof.”

Nesta hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear those words, and her shoulders loosened as she stepped into the cottage proper. In the chill dimness, broken only by rays of sunlight, she frowned at the ceiling. “This house used to have a roof.” The damage had let in all manner of creatures and weather—the former had made themselves comfortable, judging by the nests and various scattered droppings.

Nesta’s mouth turned dry. This horrible, awful, dark place.

She couldn’t stop her shaking.

Cassian laid a hand on her shoulder. “Walk me through it.”

She couldn’t. Couldn’t find the words.

He pointed to a long worktable. One leg had collapsed, and the whole thing lay at a slant. “You ate here?”

She nodded. They’d eaten here, some meals in silence, some with her and Elain trying to fill the quiet with their idle chatter, some with her and Feyre at each other’s throats. Like those last meals they’d had with her in this house.

Nesta’s stare drifted to the paint flaking off the walls. The intricate little designs. Cassian followed her stare. “Did Feyre paint that?”

Nesta swallowed, and managed to get out, “She painted every chance she got. Any extra coin she managed to save went toward paints.”

Except for that one time she saved enough to get flower seeds for Elain.

Her two sisters had somehow found a way of keeping themselves entertained. Feyre spend every minute she could out of the house. She had to go hunting for food, but even in the summer and the spring, when they had plenty, she made excuses to be away from them. Isaac Hale had been there to help her get distracted, but Nesta knew Feyre didn’t find time for him just for the sex. Feyre had wanted to be far from them, sitting in the meadows, practicing knots or whatever she did when she went away.

She only stayed in the cabin when she had paint. She had found happiness in that —and so had Elain in her little garden.

As much happiness as they could, in a place like this.

But Nesta never did. She had never wanted to.

She had barely wanted to survive.

As if he had felt the air around her shift, Cassian took a step closer, his chest close enough to her back that Nesta could feel the heat he irradiated in the bare skin of her nape. He was there for her, to be a pillar she could lean against if she needed to —to support her.

A calloused hand brushed against hers, the touch so soft and careful, Nesta almost didn’t feel it. He gave her hand a tug, but Nesta didn’t take it. Not yet. Only when she really needed his touch to bear what they were doing in this place, she would take his hand. She would try to do this on her own first.

Cassian aimed for the bedroom. Nesta followed him, and gods, it was so cramped and dark and smelly. The bed was still covered with its stained linens. The three of them had slept here for years.

Cassian ran a hand over the painted dresser, marveling. “Feyre really did paint stars for herself before she knew Rhys was her mate. Before she knew he existed.” His fingers traced the twining vines of flowers on the second drawer. “Elain’s drawer.” They drifted lower, curling over a lick of flame. “And yours.”

Nesta managed a grunt of confirmation, her chest tight to the point of pain. There in the corner sat a pair of worn, half-rotted shoes. Her shoes. One of them was bursting at the toe’s seam. She’d worn those shoes —in public. Could still remember mud and stones creeping in.

She had asked for new ones, and that had leaded them into an argument too. Feyre didn’t understand the shame Nesta felt when she walked around wearing that in her feet —as far as she knew, Feyre didn’t even remember what their life used to be like before that village; she had known nothing else. But Nesta had, and even while they starved, she still refused to let go of the life she had once enjoyed. The silks, the pearls, the luxuries she had been surrounded by when growing up. She hadn't been raised but rather crafted by her mother and tutors to belong in palaces and great halls. No, she had been forged to thrive among dozens of other rich heiresses who shared her same goal. She had become that. And then, her world crumpled down to become this.

There were wholes in the lower parts of the rotten wood panels big enough for a small rodent to get inside the house that hadn't been there while her family inhabited the space. Nesta felt sick in her stomach, just as she had when she came inside the cabin for the first time and realized it was likely to be the place where she died. No castle and no prince awaited in her future.

She had never found a way to explain to Feyre what it was like for her. Nesta was quick with words, fast coming up with the perfect answer to make everyone wary of her, make them stay away. But when it came to opening up and risking showing vulnerability, she realized, she had never learned how to do it.

She could only hide. She could only hurt.

And Feyre never made it easy either. It was so hard for Nesta to talk to her —to anyone, but specially to her little sister. Whenever they clashed against each other, she felt judged by someone who didn't even know her. Every time, Nesta let pride win and burn bridges between them, instead of trying to explain herself to a person who wouldn't even wait and listen before she decided Nesta was too much of a brat to deserve the benefit of the doubt. Feyre never considered that there might have been a reason for her to feel and act the way she did, even if it was not the right path. Because Feyre couldn't come up with any, and fooled by her own pride, thinking herself smarter because she was able to function and Nesta was not, she concluded that there wasn't a reason in the world for Nesta to just let time consume her instead of stepping in.

She hated that, and resented Feyre for years. Because they were the same. Two side of the same coin battling to stay on top once it fell to the ground. For years, Nesta felt like the only way to win, was to make sure Feyre lost.

Every day, it grew bigger —her resentment towards her. For being able to overcome difficulties she could not. Towards their father, who saw his daughters fight one another and starve and didn't get up from his chair once to try... anything. And resentment towards herself. She got carried away by it, every emotion she felt mixing together and forming a ball of anger in her guts that burned so violently that Nesta could no longer tell what was going on.

She saw red all the time, and burned with it. Burned anyone that dared come close.

Lost in her memories of how fighting had been more abundant than food, Nesta almost forgot Cassian was there too. Her eyes had gotten caught up on the torn shoes. They were such a perfect example of how her life used to be —how they had so little, that every single thing could become the reason for a night's worth of arguing... Nesta told him the story.

"Deep down I knew that saving the money was more important, that those boots could last a few more weeks. That would give Feyre time to get more money. But I pushed the logic down and picked the fight regardless" She had hated that those shoes had been a working pair to their new family standards when not so long ago only the finest leather slippers touched her feet.

Nesta looked around the room, to the bed she and her sisters had shared. “That bed in there … I was born in that bed. My mother died in that bed.”

Her mother’s death. She remembered that as well. Too vividly still.

"My father refused to send men into fae territory looking for a cure for her". And just like him, Nesta had refused to help when they lived in the cottage. Had refused to do what she thought was a servant’s work, thinking that death was better than the shame of loosing her status. "I hated him for that."

She had been so mad at him for not even trying, that she thought she ought to do the same thing. If their father didn’t do anything, she would do even less. To her, Feyre had been only collateral damage. She was willing to sacrifice her little sister’s safety for her own. That’s what she had seen others do with her before. It had been so wrong —but Nesta hadn’t realized it until it was too late for all of them.

She hated her younger self, now that there was nothing for her to do. Now that her sisters no longer needed her to step in.

She hated that she had been so wrong, so blind.

She hated that she failed at being smarter than the adults in her life.

She hated how much time and effort she had put into hating her father and not caring about Feyre only for them to be the ones saving her in the end. How was she supposed to find peace, when she had spend years being consumed by the anger his passivity ignited in her, only for him to finally be there to help when she needed him the most? How did everyone expect her to be able to deal with that when she had failed miserably at simpler tasks?

Nesta wanted to forgive her father. To forgive him and be hugged by him. Nesta wanted to finally have by her side the father she had so desperately needed her entire life.

But when he came to her and proved that his love was true and knew no limits —that he only needed a second chance, he was killed before her eyes. How could she forgive him now, when he had died before she got a chance to let him know that she understood. That she had done the same thing to others, and she understood. She knew. And she was willing to give him the second chance he wanted to do everything again, but this time right.

Her heart thundered, and she walked out of the room, back into the main space. She didn’t mean to, but she looked toward the dark fireplace. Toward the mantel.

Her father’s wood figurines lay atop it, thickly coated with dust and cobwebs. Some had been knocked over, presumably by whatever creatures now lived here.

That familiar roaring filled her ears, and Nesta’s steps thudded too loudly on the dusty floorboards as she approached the fireplace. A carving of a rearing bear —no bigger than her fist —sat in the center. Nesta’s fingers shook as she picked it up and blew off the dust.

“He had some skill,” Cassian said quietly.

“Not enough,” Nesta said, setting the bear back onto the stone mantel. She was going to vomit.

No. She could master this. Master herself. And face what lay before her. Only then she would be able to face what she had left behind —her past.

She inhaled through her nose. Exhaled through her mouth. Counted the breaths.

Cassian stood beside her through all of it. Not speaking, not touching. Just there, should she need him. Her friend —whom she’d asked to come here with her not because he was sharing her bed, but because she wanted him here. His steadiness and kindness and understanding.

She plucked another figurine from the mantel: a rose carved from a dark sort of wood. She held it in her palm, its solid weight surprising, and traced a finger over one of the petals. “He made this one for Elain. Since it was winter and she missed the flowers.”

“Did he ever make any for you?”

“He knew better than to do that.” She inhaled a shuddering breath, held it, released it. Let her mind calm. “I think he would have, if I’d given him the smallest bit of encouragement, but … I never did. I was too angry.”

She finally voiced it —Why she had behaved like that for so many years. Cassian probably knew already, but she had needed to let it out. She had been angry. She had felt abandoned. She didn’t know what to do to keep floating against the current like her sisters did with her hobbies and new-found friends in the village.

Nesta only felt anger at everyone and everything.

“You’d had your life overturned. You were allowed to be angry.”

“That’s not what you told me the first time we met.” She pivoted to find him arching a brow. She could go back and picture that day. He was a giant in her hall, tall even among the rest of the fae Feyre had brought with her. A dormant part of her human conscience, an instinct, reminded her how dangerous his kind was. But she had never felt intimidated. Not by him. Not really.

Just a worthy opponent.

“You told me I was a piece of shit for letting my younger sister go into the woods to hunt while I did nothing.”

“I didn’t say it like that.”

“Yes, you did.”

Cassian’s gaze pierced through her. She squared her shoulders, turning to the small, broken cot in the shadows beyond the fireplace, thinking he wouldn’t reply.

“Can I still take that back?” Cassian was halted where she left him. The space was not big enough for them to be far from each other, but it certainly felt like it. A chill breeze came through a chink in the wall behind her, fluttering the bottom of her cloak and finding there the bare skin of her ankles.

Would you forgive me? He was asking. Or maybe not. Maybe he simply wanted her to pretend his words had never left his lips. Can we pretend it didn’t happen?  She only had to turn around and face his burning gaze to know, but she didn’t.

Yes, Nesta wanted to tell him. Please, go back and never open my eyes to make me see what I did to my sister. Don’t let the truth of my actions ever get to me.

Nesta had always been aware of everything surrounding her, always known who she could trust, who was a tool for her to use, what buttons to push to get what she wanted from others.

She had always known, she had always seen.

Now, standing in the space where she spent some of the worst years of her life, a period of time full of hunger, cold, screaming and resentment that still hunted her, Nesta would beg on her knees for a chance to be oblivious for the first time in her life —To not see. To not feel.

“Why would you want to?”  She asked instead.

Cassian didn’t come closer. Nesta wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. Standing here, in this ramshackle space where she still had to control her breath so she didn’t break down and become a crying mess, Nesta didn’t know if she was actually ready to discuss that.

To come back to face her ghosts was hard enough.

Nesta found a spot in the half rotted wood wall in front of her and locked her eyes there, not blinking, holding the tears that wanted to form in her eyes. She wasn’t ready to remember what had happened shortly after Cassian came into her house asking for her help. Her life was already almost too much for her to handle before Tamlin took Feyre, and that’s what they were trying to get closure for today. Not what had happened next, when the Inner Circle of the Night Court entered her life.

The thought threatened to make her breath erratic again, but Nesta remembered the exercices Gwyn had found for them and kept it under control. She mastered it and reminded herself why were here. Nesta forced herself to breath. Her lungs didn’t cooperate. Her mouth dry. She inhaled slowly and then exhaled the cold air. Once. Twice.

“Because I feel like that first meeting shaped everything else after, and I don't like what it did with it."

"It did nothing." It hadn't been that first encounter what had led her into the mess she was, nor had it anything to do with her choices back when they lived in this cabin that felt smaller and smaller with each of Cassian's words. She didn't want him to make excuses for her, she should have done more, and that was a fact she had already accepted.

"No, I did. I said that to you, and then the rest followed me."

"What does that have to do with this?" she vaguely waved her hands at the surrounding space. The room that had once been her house.

"Everything." he answered "Feyre wanted a peaceful meeting, you know? She wanted to do the talking, and for us to behave, and I couldn't hold my tongue. I fucked up, and only lately I've realized the damage my words actually caused.”

In the quietude of the room, his voice was a thunder. Nesta turned to face him and finally met his eyes, that were screaming for a chance to explain. But explain what? She already knew what she had to make up for, and didn't see what Cassian or the people who accompanied Feyre back to the Mortal Lands had to do with her past.

“I only thought of you as an extension of your sister.”  She was curious to know when that had changed for him. She remembered the exact second the illyrian Commander had stopped being just her sister’s friend to her, earning a place of his own in her heart “I heard Feyre’s story, felt her suffering, and forgot you were a person too. You were entitled to your fears and to make mistakes as we all are, and I had no right to call you out there, when I knew close to nothing about you, and who you were. I didn't see that you had been a kid too, and your family's wellbeing wasn't just your responsibility, just as it wasn't Feyre's. I had no right to get involved in that unresolved issue between you, and I feel like when I did... I kind of gave everyone permission to do the same, and feel entitled to an opinion that weights as much as Feyre's and yours do in the matter. If I could go back…”

“You can’t” Nesta cut in. She wouldn’t let him, because if she wasn’t allowed to, then none of them would. It wasn’t fair.

Cassian still didn’t move, his presence painfully obvious. Cassian didn’t miss the shaking of her hands, but said nothing about it. She tried to put some of her usual icy rage in her eyes, but couldn’t. She tried to hide the excruciating pressure in her chest, the ache in her heart, but couldn’t either.

“I know you blame yourself for not being a caretaker and provider for your sisters, Nes” he started again when she didn’t go on “I know you already blamed yourself before we met, and I know I... we only made it worse, pushing you down thinking we were being good friends to Feyre. We actually hurt both of you in the end. I can’t speak for my friends, but I can speak for myself and tell you how sorry I am for not seeing that sooner. For not seeing you. And for making this" he looked rround towards the cot, the dinning table and the room they had just been into "worse than it already was.” The floor creaked under his weight when he took a step towards her, next to the cob. “You were barely older than she was, it wouldn’t have made a difference if it had been you in the woods. The three of you were too young to take that role”.

Then whose was it? His father? That's what she had thought for most of her life, but now... what about his leg? The pain he endured just by walking outside? She was the oldest, she should have done more, and she knew that. She didn't want them —Feyre— to just forgive her and pretend it had never happened. Because if she had done something more back then, then their live would be different now, for better or worse. She didn't want people to pitty her, and to tell her that she was an innocent and blameless soul.

"Why can't you just let me take accountability?"

"To take accountability is good, and I'm glad you are ready to do so, because you have to, in order to move on." He took her face in his hands taking one last step closer, their bodies almost touching “But I think we've let you think everything that happened to your sisters could have been avoided if you had been the one carrying the bow, and that's simply not true.” His thumb brushed over her cheek “What no one told you, Nesta, is that surviving is not only about getting food and water, or even a roof. I would know about that.” He chuckled softly, trying to lighten up the atmosphere around them in the dimness of the room ” Feyre is a great huntress, she didn’t need you carrying the bow and shooting the arrows.” Nesta would have died on her first winter hunting, both of them knew that. “You were needed as an older sister, and that doesn't equal being a provider for your family. She needed your support and care when she came back from a long day looking for food. A family.”

Enough tears to make a new sea had been shed by both her and Feyre in her art studio not so long ago. Feyre had asked for that exaclty: an older sister who had her back. And Nesta had promised she would try.

Nesta didn’t really know how to use or control her powers, and Feyre had surrounded herself with fae strong enough to never need Nesta to save her again.

But Cassian was right. That was not what Nesta could offer her little sister anyway, and that was not what Feyre needed from her either. That was not what she had ever wanted from her father, either. In the end, it all came to the four of them failing at being a family.

Feyre needed had needed that as much as Nesta did.

She was ready to be that from now on.

When she didn’t answer, Cassian stayed quiet, allowing her once again to get lost in her thoughts as long as she needed to, but wary at the same time, in case she drifted back to the dark ideas that so frequently starred in her nightmares.

Nesta freed herself from his grip and went back to the cot, running a hand over its cracking wood frame. Splinters snagged at her fingertips.

Her father’s body crawled up on the chair, the small fire burning until late at night so he wouldn’t freeze under the shabby blanket he used to keep himself warm… Nesta could picture it clearly when she looked at the cot again. “He’d drag it in front of the fire every night and curl up there, huddling under the blankets. I always thought he looked so … so weak. Like a cowering animal. It enraged me.”

That was the issue, the whole point of coming to the cabin. Her soul needed to face this chapter of her life like her lungs needed the air she breathed to keep her body alive. Nesta had to find a way to cope with the matted of feelings, nightmares and emotions —with the contradictions that formed in her heart.

It was always about him in the end. Her father. Their relationship.

She wanted to forgive him. She was sure of that. But there was still so much anger, such immense feeling of abandonment inside her that hadn’t been cured in time. He had been there for her in the end, and somehow that was even worse, because now she couldn’t even despise him for his cowardice. He died for her before he could face the consequences of his decisions, as she was trying to do now. He died, leaving his daughter with even more guilt inside. Because now she finally knew he did love her enough to get up from his chair and try anything, but was gone before she got a chance to do anything with that.

Her father had finally done what she needed from him, and she couldn’t even thank him. Tell him that she forgave him and ask him to forgive her back for all the times she picked on him. Tell him that she loved him, that she was grateful and his effort had been worth it.

“It …” Her throat worked. “I thought him sleeping here was a fitting punishment while we got the bed. It never occurred to me that he wanted us to have the bed, to keep warm and be as comfortable as we could. That we’d only been able to take a few items of furniture from our former home and he’d chosen that bed as one of them. For our comfort. So we didn’t have to sleep on cots, or on the floor.” She rubbed at her chest. “I wouldn’t even let him sleep in the bed when the debtors shattered his leg. I was so lost in my grief and rage and… and sorrow, that I wanted him to feel a fraction of what I did.” Her stomach churned.

He squeezed her shoulder, but said nothing. Nesta didn’t talk for a moment, and Cassian put an arm around her to press her body against his, hugging her without a word. The warmth from his chest felt almost too good. She needed it, and also the calmness of his heartbeat.

“He had to have known that,” she said hoarsely. “He had to have known how awful I was, and yet … he never yelled. That enraged me, too. And then he named a ship after me. Sailed it into battle. I just … I don’t understand why.”

“You were his daughter.”

“And that’s an explanation?” She rose her chin to look at him and scanned his face, the sadness etched there. Sadness —for her. For the ache in her chest and the stinging in her eyes.

“Love is complicated. But he loved you.”

“I can’t for the life of me understand why.” she answered.

Nesta didn’t even have to think the words, they came out of her mouth before she even realized what she had said.

Cassian had told her that once last year —that he couldn’t understand why her sisters loved her. That simple sentence, said by him so casually in the middle of the street, followed her home and helped her already overwhelming self-loathing bring her even lower. Nesta had often wanted to know if he went over his words as frequently as she did after that night and the following months. She wondered if the confession he had made hunted him too.

Nesta had come to the conclusion that it didn’t torment him one bit the moment he came to her apartment to pick her up and take her to Feyre’s new mansion by the river. She was convinced at that moment that he actually couldn’t come up with a single reason why Feyre and Elain still wasted their time on her.

Yet he was here, so she wasn't alone whilst facing her past. He was by her side now, not giving up on her no matter how badly she screwed up.

Cassian opened his mouth to say something, but whatever he was about to say, she didn't want to hear it now. It didn’t matter how he felt back then, she only cared about the present. And he was by her side. He was being a friend, apologizing for things he regretted that Nesta herself hadn't even consider, but somehow made sense.

She forgave him. Because she knew what it was like to crack under pressure and be hurtful towards people you care about when you don’t know how to help them and become desperate.

And Cassian somehow could read through her too, as he closed his mouth, his lips pressed tight.

Both of them let the unspoken words float between them, saying nothing, only looking at each other. Nesta was not perfect and he wasn’t either —there was no need to be perfect. Not right now. There were so many things they had yet to find the courage to discuss, that Nesta didn’t care. Looking into his hazel eyes, Nesta found the reassurance she needed that they would talk about it, with time, and that was enough.

They would talk about every unsaid thing between them.

They had all the time in the world.

The forgoten room reappeared around them at some point, as if they had been somewhere else when they got lost into each other’s eyes.

She studied the calluses already building across her fingers and palms. She made herself meet Cassian’s gaze again. “I didn’t just fail Feyre by letting her go into the woods. There were plenty of other times. I feel guilty.” Nesta said the words aloud for the first time. It was a clear feeling, as much as she hated it. She had finally found the one comprehensible spot in the mess that was her heart. Using that, she could pull the thread until she untangled the whole thing. It would take time, but it was a first step. Maybe there was hope for her after all.

Guilt. She felt guilt. She would work on that.

“Have you ever told her this?”

Nesta snorted. “No. I don’t know how.” That was still a problem.

He studied her, and she resisted the urge to squirm under the scrutiny. “You’ll learn how. When you’re ready.”

“How very wise of you.”

Cassian sketched a bow.

Despite this house, the history all around her, Nesta smiled. She pocketed the carved rose. “I’ve seen enough.”

He arched a brow. “Really?”

She clenched the wooden rose in her pocket. “I think I just needed to see this place. One last time. To know we got out. That there’s nothing left here except dust and bad memories.”

He slid an arm around her waist as they walked for the door, again surveying all the little paintings Feyre had squeezed into the cottage. “Az won’t be back for a little while. Let’s go flying.”

“What about the humans?” They’d run screaming in terror.

Cassian gave her a wicked smile, opening that half-broken door for her. Leading her into the sunlight and clean air. “It’ll add a little spice to their days.”

[liviusofpella]

a great combination of fluff, smut, and angst: NSFW(ish) ABC

pairing: Tyril x human!MC (Selene)

word count: 4600

warnings: NSFW 

an: nsfw alphabet template by this lovely soul with the slightest change

tag list: @brycesgirl @tyrils-star @lxdy-starfury @rysdumortain ​

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)Except for being exhausted, Selene is vulnerable, on full display for Tyril (quite literally), and a bit emotional. That’s actually when Tyril and her have the most personal, heart-to-heart conversations.“I met with Deryth today.”Tyril propped his head on his hand while lying on his side and looked down at his lover, carefully covering her naked body with duvet. His hand then rested on Selene’s hip where his fingers stroked the delicate skin.

Several weeks earlier, during a family dinner, Tyril’s father pointed out that ever since Selene and Tyril came back from Whitetower, he could sense a powerful, ancient energy from her. Adrina immediately agreed and encouraged Selene to meet with Undermount’s walking encyclopaedia/prophet/generally the one with no official title but the go-to lady when there’s any kind of trouble. Although Tyril made no remarks that evening, he agreed with his family. Ever since Selene their battle with the Shadow Court, since she wielded the Blade of Light and was able to open portals, he felt that something... unlocked. Something clicked into place.

“What did she say?”

“A lot of unsettling things, actually,” Selene bit her lip gently and turned to lie on her back. With her eyes set on the dark ceiling, she continued. “But also... nothing concrete. She said she’s been expecting me since I set foot in Undermount because she could feel my magic. She also admitted the same thing your father said.”

Tyril’s hand slowly wandered up her body to eventually rest flat on the blonde’s stomach, his finger outlining a faint scar on her abdomen.

“She confirmed that a war is coming, and I’m going to play a pivotal part in it but this time I might not... make it through.”

The elf’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What ar-“

“But it’s not anything I wouldn’t know for a few weeks now,” she interrupted. “I think... she just confirmed my worries. I could still play dumb when those were just my dreams but now... I don’t know, Tyril. I don’t think I’m strong enough to go through something like this again.”

“We’ll be right by your side, Selene,” he responded immediately, his gaze burning a hole in her face.

“I know, love,” she cupped his cheek in her palm and smiled faintly. “That’s exactly what worries me the most.”

  B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Tyril’s an absolute boobies-guy. The amount of time this man has spent on one-on-one meetings with Selene’s cleavage would make him the greatest warrior in the history had he spent it on trainings. Even (or rather especially) when they’re already going to sleep, his hand finds its way under Selene’s shirt where it rests throughout the night.

As for Selene... she couldn’t have possibly picked her favourite part of him. She adores every. single. body part of this man.

Due to her constant reminders of how much she loves his body and all the differences between the two of them, Tyril’s outlook on himself changed. He didn’t exactly begin to look out for himself when there were blades involved as she asked him, but he did want to look good for her. And himself. But mostly for her, although she started working on improving his way of thinking.

However, she does have a soft spot for his muscular back covered with several very old scars. She loves giving him a proper massage after a long day and placing kisses from one shoulder blade to another. But what she loves the most is watching his back as it’s covered with long deep-blue, purple, half-noon shaped and sometimes bloody marks that her fingernails leave.

 C = Choking (basically an addition to Kink)

“I’m not sure about this, Selene,” he admitted, warring with himself whether to do what do asked and literally choke her or to simply refuse. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me. People do that, and they’re fine,” Tyril raised his brow, looking at her, all flushed, her hair a mess, a few finger-shaped bruises on her hips, and biting her kiss-swollen lips. “I’ve read that in a book.”

“Did you?”      

“Just trust me,” she chuckled, turning to lean against a drawer and swayed her hips invitingly against him, basically impaling herself with his cock for the fifth time this evening.

He still wasn’t sold on this idea but Selene was so sure this would work he was willing to give it a try. However, the second an obscene moan left her lips after a rather hard and smooth thrust, all his inhibitions were forgotten.

Selene guided his hand from her breast to her neck, forcing him to put some pressure there, and he happily obeyed. Selene was like clay in his hands, always happy to fulfil his every wish and always making sure he felt at least as good as her. That night, he wanted to fulfil one of her wishes, however strange it seemed to him.

He pinned her hips to the cold wood with his, fucking her mercilessly as his free hand worked on her bud, leaving her a moaning mess within seconds. Just as his lips busied themselves with her shoulder, guided by her reactions he put some real pressure on her throat, careful not to hurt her.

“This is the last time we are doing this,” he concluded a minute later, holding a panting and somewhat cheery Selene in his arms.

“You’re no fun.”

  D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Tyril would never admit this out loud, especially to Selene, who’s known as one of the biggest gossip in the whole Morella and an even bigger tease, but for a rather short amount of time he was very jealous of Mal (actually, scratch that, he sometime still is), his light approach to life and his relationship with Selene. The way he could joke about everything and tease the hell out of her while Tyril himself was overcome with guilt and anger. When his sole mission was destroying every single piece of the Shadow Court, Mal would still find the strength to raise the group's spirits, cheer up and motivate them. The way he would make Selene laugh.

  E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Oh, Tyril absolutely knows what he’s doing. He often leaves Selene breathless, red, and speechless because he’s that good.

Selene on the other hand... well, she knows a thing or two. She’s a great observer and a quick learner, but she doesn’t exactly have much experience. She happily takes everything Tyril’s willing to show her, though.

“So... I’ve found a book,” Selene stated, blushing a little. Tyril watched her curiously as they sat in a secluded part of the House Starfury’s garden, basking in the early afternoon sun.

“What book?”

Biting her lower lip, Selene began untying her dress, wanting her body to catch as many sun rays as she could until the sunset. She tossed the material aside and rested her head on Tyril’s lap. “Remember the one Mal was so interested in?”

“You mean the one he stole?”

“The one he borrowed,” she chuckled, raising a hand to cover her eyes from the sun. “For an indefinite amount of time.”

“I remember.”

“Well, I found a similar one.”

“Somehow I had a feeling this would happen one day,” the elf concluded, eyeing Selene’s slowly raising chest. “What about it?”

“Oh, please. You know what I mean.”

Of course, he did. But he also so happened to love teasing her.

“We need to work on your communications skills,” he commented, with a barely contained smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Don’t laugh at me,” she chuckled. “I just thought that we could give it a try. Also, I have a feeling I am really going to enjoy watching you as you read it.”

“I already did.”

“No way,” she grinned and sat up to look at Tyril’s sun-kissed face. “When?”

“I have spent a lot of time in the library and that is all I am going to say on this matter,” Tyril admitted, smirking as his hand rested on the small of her back, his fingers gently stroking the hot skin. “If you are so eager, I believe we can start our little experiment early.”

  F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Against the window. Against the drawer. Against the door if they’re feeling risky. Honestly, even a boulder in the middle of the woods would do if it was big enough to lean Selene against it and fuck her from behind.

 G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous?)

Due to Selene being a massive tease, they usually share a laugh or two during their bedroom playtime. Though there was also that one time...

“I am not ticklish,” Selene assured, sliding her hands up and down his muscular back. Tyril smirked, a devilish plan already forming in his mind, and

“I am afraid I will have to check that.”

“I see you have a death wish, Lord Tyril,” she teased, narrowing her eyes. “And since we both know I’m a much better warrior...”

The elf chuckled and raised his head from between her legs to admire the purple chain of love bites along her stomach. Set on not begging just yet, Selene bit her lower lip and watched her lover delightedly until she realized what he had planned.

“I’m willing to take my chances.”

 H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes?)

Honestly, I find it really hard to believe that the elves grow hair anywhere except for their heads.... I mean, they don’t even grow beards....... Therefore, elf boy is smooth as a baby. Not that Selene minds. Nothing obstructs the view, right?

 I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Tyril knows that one way to make Selene aroused is dancing. She takes full advantage of how incredible a dancer Tyril is. She adores the fact that he’s willing to patiently teach her everything about his culture, which includes dancing.

“I actually practised this one,” Selene admitted, looking deep into the elf’s blue eyes. Tyril’s left hand slipped down just above her butt, pushing her towards him, leaving absolutely no space between their bodies.

“You have?”

“With your father,” she giggled, seeing the shadow of jealousy on her lover’s face. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Colour me surprised and impressed, then,” he smiled. The hand that’s been resting on Tyril’s back moved up to the side of his neck to pull his face closer.

“Since I’ve mastered this dance, I think we can already proceed with our activities,” she whispered against his lips. “I already got a head start.”

“I can see that,” Tyril smirked as he realized the only thing covering Selene’s body was a thin, white nightgown and definitely no underwear.

  J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

The first week without Selene by his side was tough but the second week? On the 9th day, Tyril seriously considered moving to Riverbend forever just so he wouldn’t have to wake up alone ever again. This being said, the vision of seeing her in a few months was... depressing.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving you something to remember me by,” Selene smiled flirtatiously, making herself comfortable on his lap. Having freed his left hand of a book, she guided it to her waist and then higher, and higher until it reached his favourite plaything covered with a thin, lacy material.

Seeing that the strained smile fell of her face as she watched him carefully, Tyril sighed quietly. “I know.”

“No,” she protested immediately and brushed a strand of his hair behind his ear, stroking his cheek while doing so. “Quit glooming. This is supposed to be a good memory.”

He didn’t want her to leave. Not now. Not ever. But they’ve had that conversations many times now, and it wasn’t fair to try to change her mind again as she was clearly set on seeing her brother and taking a well-deserved break from Undermount. Not that he would be able to convince her to stay. She’s too damn stubborn.

“It’s our last night together for some time, love,” she whispered. “Take what you need. Remember me like this.”

Tyril’s hand slowly wandered up her thigh, trying to imprint the feeling of her soft skin in his memory. Trying to remember her taste, her scent, everything about her. Because when it came to Selene, he was greedy. He wanted to know everything about this woman, to know her every thought, every worry. He wanted to be the only who knows her taste and makes her make such sounds.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he begged in between kisses as his warm hands explored her body anew.

“I’m yours, Tyril. Always.”

Remembering how hot her skin felt under his palms, those sweet sounds she would make, and the way she called herself his over and over and over again with no hesitation, he would relieve himself to get himself through the day.

  K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Let’s be clear: Selene is the much more extreme one here. She has a choking kink which actually made Tyril consider a lifelong celibacy for a second just so he wouldn’t have to do it to her again. The fact that Tyril is much older also does the trick for her. And much taller.

 L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

Anywhere. Literally. Except for Tyril’s family’s private chambers, there hasn’t been a surface the two of them hadn’t christened when they were alone.

 M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Tyril would never admit it, but he finds it extremely hot when Selene turns into a sassy/bad-ass/protective mode. He’s caught himself on that the first time after she easily took out one of Imtura’s corrupted pirates. And then when she fought like a maniac with the corrupted Captain, already using magic as easily as she’d been doing that since the day she was born and swinging her sword like it was her hand.

Selene is actually a sucker for some romanticism.

She would usually come home much earlier than Tyril, which had its pros and cons. The good side was that she had time to think, to write to Kade, and to just unwind. One of the biggest cons was the fact that she had to wait many hours into the night waiting for her man after a long day and – let’s just say – she was very excited. She categorically refused to touch herself, therefore, she was sentenced for waiting, wriggling in a chair, doing some stupid breathing exercises.

It was a quarter after midnight when she felt his familiar hands embrace her from behind and his warm lips already leaving wet kisses on her bare shoulder up to her neck.

A gasp, followed by a surprised moan left her lips when Tyril’s lips started leaving red marks on its way and his hand quickly made it inside her panties. Scratch the romanticism. After a whole long day she didn’t actually need it.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Tyril would never do anything to physically hurt her even if she asked – the choking she once asked for was the only thing he agreed to do and he swore to never do it again.

  O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill)

To Selene’s delight, Tyril loves going down on her. For his own pleasure. He’s also become quite fond of getting quick blowjobs in the middle of the day. In the middle of the city. In a fairly secluded area. Or inconspicuous handjobs under the table during parties.  

Selene’s hand was stroking Tyril under the table, as they watched most of the guests dancing around the ballroom.

“Are you sure there’s no room that we could escape to for a minute?” Selene muttered, playfully stroking his tip with her thumb and watching him clench his jaw and take deep breaths.

“If there was such option, we would be there for the last few minutes already.”

She grinned hearing the struggle in his hushed voice and put more pressure on him, motivating him for a bit quicker finale this time as the song was slowly drawing to an end. The elf swallowed hard, watching as she reached for her champagne glass with her free hand. After she’s taken a small sip, she leaned over and kissed the red-cheeked man, drinking his quiet pants off his lips. Selene grinned through their kiss, feeling some wet, sticky substance in her palm.

“It’s a bit hot in here, isn’t it?”

Adrina smiled as she sat across her brother with an elegant elf by her side. Selene smiled back at the beautiful woman and took another sip of her champagne. “It is indeed.”

  P = Pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

Unless they’re short on time, they’re slow and sensual. Tyril takes his sweet time making sure not to skip any part of her body, driving her crazy at the same time. He pays special care to Selene’s scars, remembering how insecure they make her feel.

 Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often)

“We have about five minutes before Adrina comes in here,” Selene mumbled and bit her lip to muffle the moans that threatened to leave her mouth. Tyril’s lips worked tirelessly on her neck as his hips slammed into hers.

“That’s plenty of time,” he smirked, pulling her butt towards the edge of a counter he sat her on. Selene wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, making sure he stays right where he is. “Although if you’d like me to stop-“

“Don’t you dare.”

Tyril’s right hand slipped between her legs, his nimble fingers irritating her soft spot expertly, just as his lips caught hers to muffle her moans.

They froze immediately when a soft knocking on the door followed by Adrina’s sweet voice reverberated in the room. Panicked, Selene pushed Tyril and jumped off the furniture, hurriedly smoothing her hair and fixing her dress. Tyril did the same, but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the terrified look on her face.

“Imagine if she opened the door,” Selene whispered, helping Tyril smooth his dishevelled hair.

“We wouldn’t scare her for lifetime, if that’s what you worry about,” he chuckled.

“It’s not her I worry about, it’s me! I could never look her in the face again!”

Tyril snorted and leaned over the balcony door nonchalantly, amusedly observing Selene as she opened the door and greeted his sister.

  R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks?)

Not at first, no. However, the farther they are in the relationship, the more Tyril begins to succumb to Selene’s ideas of quickies in public places and trying out some positions from the notorious book.

“It feels wrong, Selene.”

Selene looked up to see his flushed face, and took him out of her mouth for a second.

“Oh, so I can just walk out right now?”

The elf’s Adam apple moved slowly up and down as he swallowed and bit his lower lip. “I’d rather you don’t.”

“Then shut up.”

Tyril’s hand involuntarily slipped down to Selene’s hair, guiding her not-so-gently, and he quickly looked around the secluded library row to make sure they’re still alone.

He gripped the bookshelf with one hand just as he was almost there and glanced down on Selene who watched him intently with her beautiful blue eyes. With his chest heaving and tensed stomach muscles, Tyril grit his teeth not to make any noise when he came.

Selene grinned as she pulled his pants back up and stood up to place a tender kiss to the elf’s under jaw. “One could think you kind of liked it.”

Tyril brushed the loose strands of hair out of her face and stroked her cheek with his knuckles.

“I wouldn’t mind repeating this in the future.”

Chuckling, Selene stood on her tiptoes and kissed her man, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“No bodily fluids exchange in my library, kids.”

  S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Tyril Starfury doesn’t go for rounds. Tyril Starfury goes for proper sessions, no matter the time of the day, although he has a soft spot for the morning shifts.

 T = Timid 

Tyril’s anything but timid. The fact that he was willing to fuck in front of the whole city of Whitetower? Yes, there we go. Over time, he doesn’t even pay much attention to hiding his feelings for Selene from his family. Or the elves of Undermount. *cough* handjobs during parties *cough*

Selene on the other hand learns to be more confident. Tyril quite quickly learned that the teasing is just... a ruse. But with time and endless assurance from her man of his love and devotion, she learns to ask for what she wants.

  U = Unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

Oh, Selene is the greatest teaser. There’s nothing in this world that makes her happier than watching Tyril flush because of her dirty comments, lose his composure, and get boners in the most inappropriate moments.  

She loves to distract him as he’s reading the council’s newest proposals by sitting half naked on his desk, sneakingly squeezing his butt as he’s talking with the heads of other houses during balls, and leaving juicy love bites on his neck before they go out to the town. In this way she gets to hear him moaning before noon, and she marks her territory, letting other women know he’s taken. Two birds, one stone, right?

 V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc)

Tyril makes it his priority to get Selene as loud as humanly possible when they’re alone. Unless they’re in a public place for a stealthy quickie, then he does just enough to make her almost-as-loud-as-possible. He loves seeing her struggling to stay quiet, he loves teasing her like that, fully knowing she would rather chew off her own tongue than to let a moan escape her lips when they’re in public.

However, it cuts both ways, right? Selene is a mistress of drawing incomprehensible moans from her man, especially in the most inappropriate moments – like during dinner in a bar or in a library. Especially in the library, where they’ve earned a few warnings already.

“Selene, I swear, if we get a permanent ban from the librarian, I will send you back to Riverbend.”

“Feisty,” she chuckled, stroking his calf with her foot under the library table. “Do it more often.”

 W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

“I’m starting to think you’re letting me win,” Selene panted, smirking at Tyril whom she had pressed against a wall, with the tip of her blade an inch away from his throat. Tyril raised his hands defiantly, smirking at her.

“I would never do such thing.”

“Then I believe I have surpassed my master.”

Selene lowered the blade slowly and let it fall to the ground when Tyril’s strong arms wrapped tightly around her and picked her up to slam her against the wall. “You did indeed. Therefore, I believe I deserve a consolation prize.”

“We wouldn’t want you to go into pieces, would we?” she chuckled, pulling him close to crash her lips against his. They still had a few alone minutes left and like always they were more than willing to spend it a bit nicer than on pointing blades at each other.

Selene was also more than happy to use the fact that their trainings excited him to her advantage. “Are you certain you want to stay here? Someone will come-”

“Too bad for them, then.”

“I’m really liking this side of you,” she grinned and tangled a hand in his long hair as his lips sucked hard at the skin on her collarbone.

  X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

A solid (and a bit scarred) six-pack and a thick, definitely-above-average package. If it was up the Selene, he would walk around Morella naked.

 “What about this one?” she asked, kissing a long, purplish scar under his ribcage.

“Kaya.”

“It’s been over a year,” her brows furrowed a bit. “It still hasn’t healed?”

“Magic wounds take longer to heal.”

Selene nodded, and watched his face while placing tiny, tender kisses along the scar. “You have quite the collection, I must admit.”

Tyril chuckled.

“This is the last one,” he pointed to a rather deep scar on his left hip. “No distressful story behind this one.”

“For once,” she grinned. “Is this the one Mal gave you?”

“Yes.”

“It’s my favourite one.”

“It better be, I have it because of you,” he smirked, brushing the hair out of her face.

“You have it because you love me, and you wanted to defend my honour. I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“Touche.”

Placing a series of wet kisses down his abdomen, Selene wrapped her hand around him, already hard and waiting for her touch, drawing a surprised gasp from the elf. “Though I believe you deserve some acknowledgement for your courageous defence of my honour.”

 Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Tyril is a young, handsome elf, who happens to be the love interest of many, and have a gorgeous woman by his side. Of course, he’s horny as hell. As much as he’s trying to hide it, Selene knows exactly what and how often he needs, as it happens to be her.

“Not again,” Selene giggled, feeling something hard on her thigh. She slid her thumb over Tyril’s kiss-swollen lips, admiring how soft they are. “I would like to come out of this room eventually.”

“I’m afraid this is not going to happen today,” he chuckled as Selene pushed him to lie on his back and straddled him, taking him all in.

The sun was slowly descending, and they haven’t left their bed ever since they woke up this morning.

Tyril marvelled at how the orange sun kissed her pale skin, how beautiful she looked blush-glazed cheeks, and even at how eager she was to go for another round even though the tiredness was evident on her face.

“Selene, no.”

“Come on,” she sighed as he took his hand away from her neck where she guided it. “We’ve talked about this.”

“And as far as I recall I told you I am not going to do this ever again.”

“Fine.”

  Z = Zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep afterwards?)

“I love you.”

A small smile crept up upon Tyril’s lips, and he subconsciously wrapped his arm around Selene’s body. He muttered something back, slowly drifting back to sleep. Knowing Tyril, Selene just assumed it was either “Love you too” or “I know.” A soft smile appeared on her lips as she felt his steady heartbeat on her back. Tyril would usually fall asleep first, hugging her so tight she sometimes had problems breathing.

Once she was certain Tyril had fallen asleep, she turned around to look at his peaceful face and was surprised to see a faint of a sleepy smile in the corners of his lips. “Don’t ever forget that,” she whispered, placing a featherlight kiss between his brows.

[scxrsgxrd]

No Good // Willard Russell Part Four

Part one here

Part two here

Part three here

WARNINGS: 18+ mature language, mentions of death.

After having many thoughts and going back and forth on how to continue this fic, I decided that this would be a good place to wrap it up. I hope this ending doesn’t feel too abrupt, but I wanted to write a fic about canon Willard in a way that explored his mental state after Charlottes passing without heavily romanticising his character. I just wanted to say a huge thank you to every single one of you who has read, liked, reblogged or commented on this fic, reading through each of your thoughts on my writings and the lovely things you say honestly brightens my day. I hope this last part is enjoyed by everyone who has kept up with this fic, I love you all dearly🖤

Willard lay wide awake that night, the memory of him kissing Lil playing on loop each time he closed his eyes. Guilt had ravaged him, and he felt ashamed that he didn’t regret kissing a woman who wasn’t Charlotte. He cast his mind back to when Charlotte was laid in their marital bed, her face gaunt and pale as her chest heaved with every breath, fingers loosely entwined with his as she turned her head to face him.

“I ain’t for this world much longer, Will.” She rasped, using what little strength she had left to squeeze his hand before taking another deep breath.

“And- and I want you to be happy.”

Willard had known where their discussion was going, and he had fervently shook his head the whole time, declaring how she was the only woman for him, his true soulmate. But now that all seemed so skewered. Yes, a large portion of his heart still rested with Charlotte, but there was a smaller part that belonged to someone else, to Lil.

Little did Willard know- that thought would evolve into one of the most important he had ever processed.

Over the next coming days Willard made sure he had risen out of bed at dawn to watch the sunrise, as he had done with Charlotte so many times in the years prior to her passing, and after this he would stride over to the kitchen sink and shave along his jaw. When he looked in the mirror he noticed that his eyes had brightened slightly, and the stress lines on his forehead had relaxed. He tried his best to flatten out the creases of his shirt before his visitor called, slicking his hair back and rinsing over his face with cold water to jolt him awake.

When there was a knock on the door he was already waiting by it, fingers lingering over the handle as he heard a fist banging gently on the opposite side. He pushed the door open, revealing Lil stood on the porch, gazing over toward the sun as the handle of a basket hung on her forearm. Though there was a rag resting over the top of the straw basket, the scent of the blueberry pie Lil had baked filled his nostrils and he ushered her inside, eager to help himself to a hearty slice.

There had been gossip in the town, silly little hearsay about Willard’s other woman. The one who had been spotted stepping up onto Willard’s porch and into his house, then leaving just before nightfall. Of course Lil’s Aunt had heard about this, and of course she knew exactly who they were talking about. Lil paid them no mind, she didn’t cower to her Aunt, nor showed any remorse when held at arms length by the only remaining family she had left. It was summer in Knockemstiff, and Lil intended to spend it with whomever she wanted before the nights began to draw in and the dark cloud of misery descended over the town once again.

Contrary to the gossip among the folk in village, when Lil visited all she and Willard did was talk. It wasn’t long before they realised the similarities in the pain they had both felt, the loss and grief that had tormented them for as long as they could remember. For Willard especially, talking to Lil was an outlet, nothing felt as though it was pent up anymore. Talking to Willard had made Lil realise how she had never come to terms with the passing of her parents, how she had never cried, nor even spoken about her mother or father. So Willard listened as she spoke, sometimes for hours as Lil would unlock the memories of her mother she had had stored away since moving to Knockemstiff.

Though one particular topic was never openly spoken about- the kiss. Willard wanted to talk, wanted to explain himself, but there were just no words fit to use. Lil knew this, deep down she knew that for Willard, it would be a long time before he could ever explain the night that he kissed her. Though that was frustrating at first, she was now at peace with that fact, and she was just happy to be the person that Willard could confide in, the person that could help him heal.

Willard would tell Lil about Charlotte, about the café where he had first laid eyes on her, first fell in love with her. He chuckled when talking her about the meatloaf, his hand resting over his stomach as he reminisced about the meal that had damn near caused his stomach to implode. He’d often pause for a beat while talking about Charlotte, sucking in a deep breath and blinking harshly before continuing on with his story.

Lil would tell Willard about her life before Knockemstiff, what she could remember about it. She’d let him in on secrets about her Aunt Barb, how it was actually her Uncle Al who baked the bread and the pies that her Aunt boasted so frequently about. After each story they’d help themselves to a slice of whatever baked goods Lil had brought that day, before resuming their anecdotes once more.

And so there they were, two troubled souls that had found each other in a town where neither of them had really felt like they truly belonged.

-

Willard would still visit the prayer log from time to time, carefully treading his way through the overgrown clearing until he reached the faded, rotting old wooden crucifix structures he had made. That all felt like an eternity ago. When he knelt down, he bent his head and clasped his hands together, readying for the verse he had prepared for that particular day. His lips had parted slightly, and just as he was about to begin speaking his cause, he felt a ray of sunlight hit him. Willard froze for a few seconds before a smile spread over his lips; he knew that he didn’t have to worry anymore. Charlotte was there with him, as she always would be.

Tags: @roman-cek @lucifer-reads @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @ill-skillsgard @walkxthexmoon @jj-lynn21 @llama--mama @erzsebet1614 @ispeaksarcasm14 @skarsgard-daydreams @scuba-seamus @locokoca @multiqts @skrsgardspam @theskarsgardcult @dreamtherapy

[bizlawgal]

I wanted to share a prompt! Hope is ok ❤️: Emma is norman's bodyguard. And he's so cute 😳. But she has to focus because she's a professional 😎. But he's so sweet and treats her like she was a princess! But he's also super important and she needs to give the 100% to protect him. But the way he calls her, it's just... Would be people surprised if she falls for him? What would people think if she tries to take him for her 🤭😏.

This took a while. 

Here’s Lyn’s first contribution to the N/E tag for 2021 on Tumblr.

I personally enjoyed writing this because it’s so angsty, but it’s a dessert with a cherry on top for an ending. 

I. There was no fitting person for the job other than her.

With a slender built, an agile reflex, and a taste for anything below the surface of safety, she was more than willing to accept the terms and conditions that came with the job.

"Oliver tells me you're experienced in this line of work," said Ray, the person-in-charge with most of the personal bodyguards assigned to the Minerva Family. "You do know that individuals who prefer this line of work are the ones who have —"

"— nothing left to lose, I know," she continued. This line was something she had memorized long ago. "No one will be looking for me if I do lose my life somewhere along the line. I have no more family to go back to."

Her father had died a couple of years back. Incarcerated for a murder she knew he did not commit, and died a sorrowful death behind bars because of an undetected disease.

Since then, she had taken a liking to the profession of looking after people; being a bodyguard gave her a purpose to live, and another way to make amends with her helplessness.

Ray's face echoed skepticism. "As long as you won't die before the person you're in charge of, then there won't be any problems. At least during this coming election period. Your service is of utmost importance."

Emma released a deep sigh upon learning that she had finally landed this job. "Who am I in-charge of protecting?"

"The heir of the Minerva Family," he answered as he flipped through her folder full of credentials one last time. "Consider this as your first day on the job. Here's the itinerary for today. He's a very busy person but make sure you leave a good impression."

He? She had never worked as a bodyguard for any man before, but being ever-so devoted to what she did for a living, she shoved the underlying curiosity in her mind.

Emma nodded submissively as she extended her hand to claim the supposed itinerary and immediately implanted the details inside her head. The idea to process everything in an instant was something she was good at.

"Memorized it?" Ray quipped, a challenging smirk making its way to his lips.

"Yes," she beamed, "I’ve memorized it by heart."

"Do you still have any inquiries about what your job will be? About the person you're in charge of?"

She shook her head in an absolute stance. "I think I'm well-informed."

"Good, because here comes the Minerva you're in-charge of."

She heard the simultaneous clicking of heels against the marbled floors, and when the door to the room opened, she swang her head to officially meet him with a smile.

Instead of a smile on her lips, she only registered an expression of awe; lips parted in wordless wonder and eyes widened with a different kind of expectation.

He was the first to move on, reflecting the same enchantment on his face, and spoke, "You must be —"

"Emma," she supplied. "I'm Emma Mikhaylov, and starting today, I'll be your personal bodyguard, Sir Minerva."

He smiled, and she was sure that it might've made her heart twitch a bit. "It's nice to meet you, Emma. Are you aware of our itinerary for today?"

She looked over at Ray, and back at the heir. Her breath hitched upon answering. "Yes, sir."

There was one thing that Ray failed to mention.

Norman Minerva, the heir to the family of politicians, was a damn well-proportioned, good-looking man.

II.

"How are you supposed to protect me if you're the one behind the wheels?"

It was another one of his comments that initially swayed her to think that he wasn't just one of those old money brats from a political dynasty.

It had been three months of being his bodyguard, and she couldn't deny that he was suspiciously treating her better than how he did with others.

Without taking her eyes off the road, she answered, "It's my job to chaperone you, too."

He subtly scratched his head. "Do I have to spell it out for you that I want you next to me? We could've asked Ray to chaperone us, could we not?"

"Ah, but Ray is out doing his own chaperoning for your sister."

He snorted. "There is no winning that. He fancies my sister, after all."

Emma chuckled lightly. "Miss Anna is really lovely. I doubt anyone would second-guess their attraction towards her, sir."

"Emma." There was a sternness to the way he said her name that made her slightly jolt in her seat. "I've told you a thousand times to simply call me by  my name."

"It's inappro—"

"It is not," Norman sighed heavily, thinking how many times they've had this conversation. "I already told you that I do not think of you merely as my bodyguard. I simply enjoy your company and I think you know by now that I fancy you. We should try to be more casual."

This brought out another laughter from her, yet it was laced with awe and disbelief. She hoped that he couldn't see how hard she was trying to gulp down her nerves.

"That isn't part of my job description, si— Norman. What you're suggesting is highly inappropriate."

Norman raised a skeptical brow from the rearview mirror, and she tensed in her seat when his eyes bore into hers. "But you find Anna and Ray's illicit affair romantic? What makes my attraction for you different from theirs?"

Emma took a deep breath and internally reminded herself that she was a professional. This was not something she should be entangled in, especially since her sole purpose was to keep him safe until the elections were over.

She was simply thankful that they had arrived at the first one on his itinerary. "Would you look at that? We're here! Wait for me to open your door, okay?"

"Emma, you don't have to —"

She whipped her head and raised a finger. "No buts. This is my job."

It was when she got out of the car and paused for a second did she let the facade fade from her face.

Just being in the same space with him was getting harder and harder each day.

III.

It was rare for her to curse, but given the scenario they were in, it was hard not to.

"Damn election period," Emma hissed at the side, aiming the gun towards the door.  

The Minerva Estate was breached and unidentified men were detected rummaging within the massive palazzo. Ruckus could be heard from the outside of the walls, and the more it came, the more fear resonated between her fingertips.

"Emma!" Norman cried out from within the confines of his walk-in closet, drenched in his own fear and misgivings. "Let me out this instant!"

It was rare of him to question his lack of strength or physical means to pry a door open; this was one of those rare occurrences.

"No can do, Norman," she vocalized it with depth, making it known to him that there was no way she was letting him out for the sake of his safety. "Stay right there. It's for your own good."

In a hysterical voice, he rebutted, "And what about you? Why can you not hide here with me?"

She found the whole thing utterly ridiculous. "Are you insane? I'm your bodyguard, remember? It's my job to keep you safe!"

"And what will I do if you die trying to protect me?" His words were more of a plea than a question, knotting within the hollows of his stomach.

"I cannot lose you, Emma."

She hissed at the words, and begrudgingly closed her eyes before snapping her view at the walk-in closet.

"And I cannot lose you!" She almost screeched it — everything that she had been bottling inside for the sake of her sanity, eating away every bit of suppressed emotions that she carefully placed at the back of her heart. "I will not allow anything or anyone to bring you harm. I can’t let another person I care for die! This is my job —"

"Who cares about this job —"

"— and this is what I feel for you! Do I have to make it more obvious?" She gritted her teeth and sucked in what was left of her confidence and her time.

He couldn't see her face, but as she spoke, he could imagine her smiling, the one that was ever-so bright in his eyes and never wavered.

"I'm keeping you safe not only because it's my job, but also because... I love you."

The sounds of constricted breathing inside the closet kept crushing her from the inside.

"Emma, I —!"

It left him no room to speak when he heard the door to his room opened, and the succession of gunshots took place.

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into hours.

Silence consumed him, yet successions of calling out her name proved no merit.

She never answered.

IV. 

"You are an idiot! An idiot, I tell you!"

Emma winced, not only for the pain inflicted on her by the graze of a bullet but also for the commotion caused by the man that had just barged through the door.

One look at him was enough of sedation for her; he was unscathed and safe.

She was about to lift herself up, gradually moving to position herself to sit on the bed, when his pair of arms reached out and enclasped her in an embrace.

His smelt of honeydew mixed with smoke, and she could feel the debris of wherever he had gotten himself into while she was asleep, against her cheek. Hearing his raspy shivered breathing against her ear struck every nerve on her body and the amount of tension on the tips of his fingers indicated that he was beyond worried for her dear life instead of his.

If they weren't surrounded by a mountain of eyes that would dare scrutinize this shared moment between then, she would've tackled him to the ground herself.

"I'm glad you're ok—"

"You idiot! Don't ever do that again!" His voice was demanding — pleading even, and seething through her skin. "I thought... I thought I lost you!"

His arms remained tightened around her, and she could only eye Ray with green eyes full of hesitancy. He only shrugged, but the way he cradled the smirk on his lips wasn't enough to deceive her.

She was merely her bodyguard.

She had no rights to him.

"Earlier," he voiced out, trembling, "You told me what you felt. What was I supposed to do inside that closet you locked me in, Emma?!"

The way he held her instigated that he no longer held any plans of letting her go.

"I wanted to keep you safe, si—"

"Do not call me 'sir'. I am simply Norman to you, and you're simply Emma to me."

His eyes are stained with unshed tears; only remorse for moments that he thought he'd never have with her again. "Will you let me hear it again?"

Emma seemed lost. "Hear what?"

His face softened with the memory. "What you told me earlier. Let me hear it once again. Let me know that it wasn't just a hallucination on my end."

That unexpected confession of hers from earlier earned her a bright, rosy blush all over her face.

"I-I have feelings for you."

Norman gave a low chuckle. "I guess that's another way of saying it. But I'm in love with you, Emma. From now on, stop being my bodyguard and simply be with me instead. Please, consider it." His smile came off sheepish. "I can't handle your constant disregard for your own safety for the sake of mine."

"B-but who's going to guard you?"

"I'll take over," Ray interjected, arms crossed over his chest. "It’s not as if I haven’t noticed the way you two have been acting for the last couple of months. Also, it's high time you stop being so reckless, Emma! You shouldn't have handled that situation all on your own. You could've called for back-up in his room!”

Emma nearly winced at Ray's reprimanding; he was right on the dot. She placed her sights on Norman and said, "But I'd still like to look after you. I've... grown to like it."

"Emma," he said her name a soft and gentle as he always had, and she knew that what would come next after her name were words meant to last a lifetime.

"I might not be as strong as you are with a gun, or as fast as you are when you run, but I'll look after you all my life, just as you'll look after mine. I’ll be your family. We’ll be a family."

Emma tried to suppress the grin on her face, but it failed spectacularly, and now she was facing him with immense joy, intertwining her fingers within his. His touch his warm and inviting, and it allowed her to further lament why she never allowed the idea of ever becoming his and him ever becoming hers.

"And we'll be equals?"

She searched his sights and he responded with the same amount of affection in his eyes; in his hold, she’d always be home.

"We were always equals."

[shamelessllamapeanutthing]

Ships and Feels about them

HUGE self-indulgent post but my brain is frozen and I need to get the juices flowing so I can start studying, because if I don’t get into the college I want I just might have to kill myself and then y’all can say bye-bye to your fav fics by your majesty. 

YoruSoi- status: worSHIPPING (geddit? XD) them like the goddesses they are

I regularly play Wicked Ones by Dorothy and just imagine these two tag-teaming against their opponents, like the crazy, badass, ninja lesbians they are. It fucking gives me goosebumps and makes me blush like I am imagining them rawing each other instead. I am a big time SUCKER for powerful, cut-throat wlw. They make me feel powerful by extension, and my devotion for these two is completely unparalleled. 

VictUuri- status: will protect them with my life  

First of all, I love how layered and interesting they are. I can think about this show and this ship for hours and hours on end ( @feastingonvicturi will vouch for that). I naturally gravitate towards angsty ships and writing (because I am a weird sado-maso cross, what can I say) except for these two fluffy bastards. I had been putting off watching YOI because of the weird things I had read about ‘yaoi’ animes (IK YOI is not yaoi, now) till someone told me how pure and deep their love for each other was and welp, here we are. 

RenRuki- status: comfort ship I’ll defend till death

It was one of my first ships and even as I multi-shipper, I always had a preference for them. Childhood-friends-to-lovers trope tugs on my heartstrings like little else and Renji’s devotion towards Rukia warms my heart. I hear them in nearly every song, imagine them in every scenario I read or write about and even though I have multiple ships I adore involving Rukia and Renji both, the two together is everything to me. (Presently obsessed with the amazing hcs and art by @recurring-polynya you might wanna check them out)

KaiRay- status: heart is taking a break, but remains firmly attached

I got into Beyblade BECAUSE of this ship, because of the moments these two shared in V-Force that I caught glimpses of when my younger siblings were watching the show. I love Kai and Ray’s dynamic and I guess what attracts me the most to this ship is the fact that as a teenager I was exactly like Kai and had my own personal Ray who got me through the worst in life. I love the sense of sweet nostalgia this couple brings me and I believe they are perfect for each other. 

MariahEmily- status: coffee shop AU, anyone? 

I was HUGE on MariahxRay but strong, stylish, kinda bitchy, dumb thot falling for the highly educated and fierce lady boss she doesn’t really know how to approach is another one of my favourite tropes, (see: PansMione, down under). I saw them interact and due to personal reasons my brain rejects petty rivalry between girls (because we’re all tired of that, children, be honest) and immediately tries to fix it in fanon. ( @trashyartz  and her beautiful drawings had a lot to do with fanning these flames.) 

ShunUki- status: want them to adopt me

Need I say more? No, but I wanna. I love the steady, secure vibes of this ship. This is the one ship I physically can’t write angsty shit about because of the level of understanding and sense of comfort these two share. They give me kind and strong dad vibes and I have emotionally been an orphan since I was in my early teens so. 

WolfStar- status: they’re canon, JKR can suck my toes

Fucking TERF 

Listen, listen, have you been listening? I mentioned I am a sucker for angst, right? Are you looking at the angst potential here, cause wow. What originally attracted me to this ship was the Chemistry between the two, cause it’s undeniable. You can NOT imagine Maurauders’ Era without imaging these two pining over each other. It’s impossible. 

PansMione- status: toxic and problematic, but oh so hot

I got on this ship because I was craving some quality wlw ships. You guys’ I can not explain to you how often female characters in shows and books do not pass the Bechdel test and I stumbled on some gorgeous PansMione art and just fell in love. IK this ship is hella problematic, but I am firm on my stance that the baby Slytherins deserve a redemption arc. 

Can you imagine these two after Pansy realises everything she did wrong and vows to be better? I imagine Hermione stumbling on a hurt and confused Pansy in year 8, who can’t stop her tears from flowing and is so ashamed of herself for that. She is feeling guilty and resisting the emotion with everything she possesses because the world she’d always known has crumbled down around her and everything she believed in has now been proven to be wrong. 

She lashes out at Hermione because how dare that smart, gorgeous, courageous girl also be everything Pansy once thought she was? How dare she, a muggleborn, unravel the complicated threads of the wizard world so quickly, so efficiently, and clearly see what Pansy never could? Pansy is hurt and guilty and angry and she hates the fact that fucking Granger of all people has now witnessed her crying. 

She feels lost and her anger only rages louder when Hermione doesn’t gloat or belittle her, she doesn’t say anything. 

(Why is this turning into a ficlet, WHAT) 

Anyways, Pansy gets over herself and she and Hermione get together and oh my god, imagine them then. Smart, powerful, righteous Hermione taking the fucking Wizarding World by a storm every single day with her sexy, vivacious, clever Pansy by her side. They’d be unstoppable and they’d love each other something fierce. It would show in the way they look at each other, with a sense of victory, not only over Voldemort but over the entire Wizarding society that had done everything it could to tear them apart, and ultimately failed. 

(BONUS: Imagine Ron and Harry being utter dorks when they go to Pride parades with Hermione and let the image cleanse your skin and soul. @feastingonvicturi @trashyartz one of you (or both?) needs to collab with me so I can write a fix it fic for these two, please. I will pledge my soul to the devil to be used and abused as per Trashy’s whims in exchange. Taura will do it cause she’s my best friend and loves me more than I deserve to be loved.)

(In conclusion, I adore every single one of these ships and am willing to slice a bitch’s throat to protect their honour. Except for YoruSoi, they are fictional characters IK but I am convinced they do not need anybody’s protection, least of all this dumb fuck’s and just might laugh at the very idea.) 

Also, feel free to reblog or comment with rants about your own ships even if they go directly against mine. More love to you if you expand on the ships I mentioned here myself. Tell me about your poison of choice, go ahead. 

But if any one of you dares to send hate to any of my ships, please know that I am something of a God in my own capacity and will smite you with my preferred weapon of choice i.e. blindness in the face of adorable puppies or kittens (in pictures, videos, art, real life or otherwise). Beware. Let people love what they love.

[aries-writingblog]

Atlas (4)

Summary: After years of being imprisoned on the Raft, Tony negotiates freedom for his sister Tessa. When she’s free- so is her past, and it will never stop hunting her.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC(Stark)

Chapter Word count: 1939

Warnings: PTSD (subtle ish), trauma, torture (in later parts), suicidal behaviors and thoughts, mentions of death, character death, injury, violence, angst, and a lil bit of fluff in there

Disclaimer: Atlas is my own, original work with characters belonging to Marvel (except Tessa and Dr. Clifton). Plagiarism is not cool kids.

A/N: this is my first work Im posting to this platform and I’m really excited and nervous about it. Hope you enjoy- constructive criticism is always helpful as well!!

Tony stared at the screen, wondering why he was God’s choice of boxing partners. He had been decoding the intel all night, only becoming increasingly concerned as the data rolled through. There was a surplus of data that encrypted with the title ‘Project Maelstrom’. From what he could tell, it was centered around Tessa. The head of the project was a Dr. J.R. Clifton- the one who was dicking around with things he didn’t understand and caused his baby sister a lot of pain.

What Project Maelstrom seemed to have as a goal was to create more of her. This time on purpose. There were samples of her blood that were torn apart. X rays and documents of medical visits labelled T. Stark. There was even detailed descriptions of the only two missions Tessa had been sent on before she was thrown in the Raft.

Tony would admit- he was curious, burning with the need to read every detail of why she was locked away. Tessa wouldn’t tell him. Ever. And the army never gave a clear reason, just that she was a danger and her whole squad had been killed on a mission. Nothing more, nothing less. When Tony threatened them with a lawsuit, he was told that Tessa would get the death penalty if it went to court. So, he had to play nice.

Instead, he called a meeting at the ass crack of dawn to decide how to play this. He was slightly wary of breaking the news to Tessa, as it was all based around her and her powers, but he figured if he had enough fire extinguishers on hand, everything would be fine. As long as she was contained on one floor. To one room. Maybe we should meet on the roof.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“So... what’s the move?” Tony asked, hesitantly. He was trying to gauge reactions around the room, mostly focused on Tessa. She seemed to lock down as soon as he mentioned the mission reports. She wasn’t surprised or fazed by much of the other intel.

Bucky had also instantly switched his attention from Tony to Tessa as it was brought up. She hadn’t spoken to him since the incident in her room- three days ago. She remained on her floor, although Wanda had convinced her to come down to eat with her, Steve and Vision every day at lunch. Wanda seemed to have that persuasion on her.

He noticed her clam up, keeping her eyes low while Steve began to form a plan, with the help of Natasha and Tony. Bruce was sifting through the medical records produced from the intel, gleaning information to research his own. He had been curious about Tessa’s enhancement but the woman wouldn’t let him near her with any medical or scientific equipment. So, he agreed to wait until she was ready for it.

“What about the mission reports, what do they say?” Steve asked, reaching for the papers. Tessa immediately leapt up, snatching the papers before he could reach them. She looked down at them, seemingly trying to confirm her suspicions before lighting them on fire, letting the ash fall at her feet. She swallowed harshly, meeting Steve’s shocked eyes.

“There’s nothing important in them.” She snapped, dropping the last of the papers. She turned to Tony, anger in her stance. “Did you make more copies of those?” He blinked and shook his head.

“There’s the original on the drive Wilson brought back.” He answered, already aware of what she would ask him to do next.

“Delete it.” She hissed, spinning on her heel and stomping out of the room. Tony nodded, even though she had already slammed the door shut.

“Anyone want to check on her?” Tony offered. There was a hesitance in the way Bucky stood up, pushing his chair back. Tony’s eyes narrowed and zeroed in on the hulking mass of a man. “Anyone else- cause, not to be petty but he’s already killed the rest of my family and I’d like to keep what I have left around for a while.”

Bucky’s expression didn’t alter but he felt the sting of the comment. Nevertheless, he sat back down, pulling his chair in, clasping his hands on the table and keeping his gaze on them.

“Tony...” Steve chided, anger and self righteous indignation in his tone. Tony rolled his eyes before turning back to the papers. None of them could refute the obvious. Everyone was aware of the obvious- the Winter Soldier responsible for the death of the Starks- and they were aware of Tony’s less than forgiving attitude toward the recovering soldier himself.

“Whatever- just let her go, maybe she’ll blow up the top floor and set fire to my belongings.” He responded, grumbling as he began the presentation again.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Days later, Tessa was still being temperamental. Bucky had not spoken to her, Tony had been locked out of her apartment. The only ones she let in were Sam and Wanda. Sam attempted to soothe her, trying to help her make sense of her head and emotions. Wanda ensured she was eating regularly and trying to help her make sense of her powers. She knew a thing or two about out of control enhancements.

Bucky had been upset, moping around his shared apartment mostly because he was unable to talk to the person he had feelings for. The one person who he felt actually wanted him around. Steve took notice after the umpteenth sigh and ensured him that he would try to set it up for him.

“What’s that supposed to mean, jackass?” Bucky’s nose scrunched up and a wrinkle presented itself on his forehead. Steve rolled his eyes and tossed his paper to the table.

“I mean, on the mission. I’ll make you two partners. Someone has to be responsible for her, a guardian when she’s on the field, and you two got... close.” Steve began folding towels, turning his back to his roommate. Bucky blinked twice before snorting. Steve turned back around to see him pouting. “Oh- what is it, you’ve been moping around for days now- what happened between you and Tessa that’s got your panties in a twist?”

“First off- what the fuck my guy?” Bucky’s hands flicked toward him before resting on the table he sat at. “And second, it’s none of your business.”

Steve almost called bullshit. He could see that Bucky was bursting at the seams, almost exploding with his problem. The guy was the best at sneaking around to find intel or perform his espionage but ask him about a girl he had a crush on and the man would spill like a can on a car. Steve knew just what to say to get him to talk- it would only take him asking once more and Bucky would spill his guts.

“Okay... all I’m saying is that you two were helping each other. The progress you made when you started hanging out was phenomenal- exponential almost.” Steve commented, nonchalantly and kept folding his towels. Only a few more seconds now and...

“She doesn’t sleep well.” Bucky started. Steve mentally congratulated himself on being able to manipulate Bucky into talking- the same way Bucky was able to manipulate Steve into doing his share of chores. “And so I’d see her in the kitchen at night when I couldn’t sleep and we started talking. Then she gave me her dog tags, because I said I never got mine back. And my heart exploded. Steve- I’d never thought I’d feel like this again. I just want to make her happy- I want to see her smile and I want to be around her- I want to talk to her.”

Steve knew the importance of the relationship when Bucky stressed that point. Bucky never went out of his way to join a conversation or even speak to someone. It always had to be initiated by the other party and even then it was one sided. Bucky hated talking to other people. So to actually want to talk to her... Steve felt that progress was being made.

“And then, after the mission... she let me touch her.” Bucky sat back in his chair, remembering how he held her tightly. Remembering how she latched to him, like her was her life line. In a way, he was in that moment. “She let me comfort her and hold her... then she fell asleep and had a nightmare and set my shirt on fire.” Steve’s eyes widened as he whirled around to face him. Bucky was quick to defend her. “It was an accident- she apologized but... I think it hit too close to home for her. She kicked me out and she hasn’t spoken to me in days. What am I supposed to do now? I’ve grown so close to her and now... she won’t even look my way. I thought she had the same feelings but, maybe I was just caught up in my emotions, remembering what it felt like to have feelings for a woman.”

“I don’t think it’s that, Buck.” Steve assured him. He’d seen the glances Tessa gave him. She’d greet him with a ‘good morning’ and already have his coffee mug down with coffee in it. “Maybe she’s just scared. She doesn’t have a good control over her powers and she set you on fire. She just needs time, you both need to be patient with the other. It’s not gonna be easy.”

“I know that... I just- I want to jump straight into this feeling but she’s holding back... and I don’t know how to help her.” Bucky muttered. Steve had seen this before- granted it wasn’t the same reason. It was when they were teenagers and a senior girl had been stringing Bucky along because he was the best looking in the sophomore class. Poor Bucky actually had feelings for the girl but she was just trying to prove a point to her friends. But he knew Tessa was holding back for a different reason. A selfless reason.

“Just try and understand her side. If she gives you the chance, explain how you feel.” Steve couldn’t believe that he was giving Bucky girl advice. It used to be so different went they were younger. “Maybe flowers- buy her flowers to show that you’re not pissed about catching fire.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Everyone suited up?" Tony asked, tossing his glasses onto the seat beside his iron man armor. Steve and Natasha were sitting in the pilot seats, switching buttons and levers, preparing for takeoff. Sam was doing last minute repair work on Redwing, while Bucky sat beside him trying to hold back on jamming his finger directly into Redwing’s circuit board- just to annoy Sam. Wanda and Vision were sitting together reading a book they had borrowed from Laura the last time they had visited Clint. Bruce decided to stay behind, as he usually did. Tessa was the last one on the jet, taking a seat in the far back, hooking herself in and just sitting quietly.

Everyone gave Tony a response- whether it be a grunt, nod, or a ‘fuck off, mom’ from several of the passengers. Tony spared a glance back to Tessa when he didn’t hear a response from her. She was wearing the design he’d made for her. Completely fire proof, black tactical pants with a long sleeved black spandex shirt and black combat boots. She wore a Kevlar vest over the top. She was also decked out in weapons- knives in her belt and boots, a hand gun on each hip and an AR- 15 sitting by her side. He’d wanted to go for the dramatic but Tessa practically cussed him out when she saw his first idea.

“Hey, kiddo.” Tony scooted in beside her, bumping hips as he buckled his harness in. Natasha had announced take off in two minutes so he settled in beside his loving sister for a pep talk. “How you feeling?”

“Did you read those reports?” Tessa questioned, forgoing formalities and small talk. Her dark eyes landed on his face, worry and irritation building up in her brows.

“No, I didn’t. I wanted to because you never talk about it but I didn’t.” Tony sighed as Tessa relaxed slightly into her seat. “I just want to be here for you and you don’t make that easy when you hide things from me.”

“If it makes you feel better I also lie to my therapist.” Tessa cocked her head to the side.

“Well that I can understand.” Tony scoffed, gently elbowing her. Tessa smiled, looking down at her fingers, playing with a string on her fingerless gloves. “I love you, you know that right?” She nodded. “Good. So, just keep your cool this mission, alright? Don’t be afraid of your powers. Don’t be afraid that you’re putting us in danger. We can handle ourselves. And you’re paired with Barnes so just... keep your head down and follow his orders- even though I’d personally like to jab his eyes out.”

“He’s a perfectly nice guy.” Tessa muttered quietly.

“That murdered your parents.” Tony pressured, trying his best to not throw himself into a tirade. “He’s responsible for so much death and destruction-“

“Well so am I...” Tessa shot a glance at Tony, shutting him up instantly. It was the first time she had ever admitted it to him. “He isn’t the only one here with blood on his hands- the whole team is morally grey when it comes to the lives saved and taken. Besides, he wasn’t in his right mind... he’s a good guy.”

Tony could see it- the light blush on her neck and ears. He felt a pit forming in his stomach- she wasn’t falling for the guy, was she? There was so much he didn’t know about his sister from the past six years. That made him feel even worse. She had gone through so much, too much for someone her age to deal with and she wouldn’t even talk about it. So why wouldn’t she fall in love with the first person that actually listened to her- that made time for her.

“Tell you what-“ Tony told her, unsnapping the buckles and standing up. “After this mission- we go to that pizza place you and your friends used to terrorize in high school. Just the two of us. Catch up on everything we’ve missed.” Tessa looked up, meeting his eyes. The dark brown eyes of Howard Stark, passed down to both of his children.

“Sounds nice, Tony.” She agreed. “Stopping for doughnuts on fifth?”

“As many as you want.”

“It’s a deal.”

[bobasheebaby]

Tie Me Down- Cordonian Ruby short

Pairing: Ruby Rys x Beau Larkin

Word count: 1,192

Warnings: none it’s fluff

Summary: I got an ask from a dear anon about when Beau knew Ruby was the one. I could have just answered it but I thought Beau might do it better.

Song Inspiration: Tie Me Down by Taylor Ray Holbrook (it’s far more innocent than the name implies I promise)

A/N1: this is completely written in first person from Beau’s POV and jumps from when they are 16 & 17 to 17 & 18.

A/N2: I used the chorus to break apart the different sections, lyrics are italicized.

A/N3: This may very well be a hot mess disaster. I changed POV last minute from third to first, have had zero sleep and am only awake due to coffee and sheer will. Also I’m the only one who went over this draft, so please excuse any of my sleep deprived mistakes. Thank you to my snippet reader @loveellamae who screamed appropriately.

Series warnings: character death, blood, surgical procedures done by non medical personnel, may go NSFW in the future. May contain gun violence, knife violence, threats, not sure how dark this will go. By requesting to be tagged you acknowledge you are at least 18 years of age.

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

Disclaimer: I own Ruby, Galen, Lovett, and Beau, I’m borrowing Bastien and Olivia from PB.

When I first saw her I could barely tear my eyes off of her. She was new, sure it was the beginning of the school year but I surely would have remembered someone like her.

She was unlike any girl I’d ever met. She had this air about her that had me completely captivated and dying to know more.

Most of the other girls put far too much time and thought into their appearance, sure they looked pretty but she was an effortless beauty.

Her long golden hair sat piled on top of her head, and her nose was buried in a book, but still she captivated me. Every day at lunch it was the same, she would tuck herself away either in the cafeteria or out in the courtyard.

She didn’t seem too interested in making friends with the other students. She knew who she was and wasn’t concerned with proving herself.

Her self esteem took my breath away. I had moments of doubt at times, she looked like she never second-guessed herself.

She had this magnetic energy that just drew me to her.

Every time I passed her in the hallway my heart would race, by the time I got the nerve to speak to her it was nearly winter break. I couldn’t understand what it was about her that had me so flustered and nervous, I'd talked to other girls, been on more than a few dates.

There was just something about her that was different, special.

I knew that it was coming but I didn't see it coming now

Little did I know you had the finger I'd be wrapped around

One look at you and I saw everything I'd ever need

And you don't know what you do to me

I'm down to give it all up

If you're up to tie me down

If you're up to tie me down

I wasn’t even the slightest bit surprised when she pulled her blonde waves back into a ponytail. I knew I had been taking a risk with this unconventional first date, but I also couldn’t see taking someone like her to the movies.

It felt too played out for someone as special as her. She deserved a guy who actually got who she was. I might not be the guy for her, but I’m trying to be worthy of her.

She was always beautiful, but she looked absolutely breathtaking as she picked up the rifle. Her hair shimmered in the afternoon sun reminding me of gold. No, it was more like a halo, she was so angelic.

Damn the way she took my breath away.

Her form was perfect, if I didn’t know any better I would have sworn she’d spent her entire life in Texas.

She was completely at ease with the gun and the target practice, it was me who seemed to make her stutter.

I got it, she made me nervous too. It was second nature to reassure her.

Damn I sound like some kind of lovesick fool. It was too soon to know, but maybe someday it would be, if I was lucky.

I knew that it was coming but I didn't see it coming now

Little did I know you had the finger I'd be wrapped around

One look at you and I saw everything I'd ever need

And you don't know what you do to me

I'm down to give it all up

If you're up to tie me down

(Treat my heart like a secret)

If you're up to tie me down

(Promise me that you'll keep it)

(Treat my heart like a secret)

(You're the reason it's beating)

Panic flooded my veins the moment the wooden sword hit her ribcage with a deafening crack.

My heart dropped to my stomach and I felt like I might be sick. I hurt her. I actually hurt her. The thought made my heart ache.

Would she ever trust me again?

How would I possibly ever make this up to her?

I was frozen in fear, my heart pounding in my chest.

I never wanted to hurt her. Never wanted to be the person to bring tears to her eyes.

As I watched her clutching her ribs I noticed something, she wasn’t crying.

How was she not in pain?

I had watched her stumble backward and while I’m strong she could flip me over her head if she wanted, there is no way that I could have been the sole reason she was knocked off balance.

From the sound alone I could tell that I hit her hard. I knew it had to hurt like a bitch. Hell, I probably would be crying if it was me.

It should be me.

The thought barely even caught me off guard. It didn’t even surprise me as the next thought rang clear in my mind. I love her.

I knew that it was coming but I didn't see it coming now

Little did I know you had the finger I'd be wrapped around

One look at you and I saw everything I'd ever need

And baby you don't know what you do to me

I'm down to give it all up oh

I'm down to give it all up oh

I'm down to give it all up oh

If you're up to tie me down

If you're up to tie me down

It’d been weeks since the mishap with the sword.

The way she brushed it off like it was perfectly normal to have two busted ribs only compounded my feelings for her.

Every day I feel just a little more sure. There will be no other girl like her.

I still haven’t told her, I don’t even know if I could put the way I feel about her into words.

‘I love you,’ while the truth those three little words just don’t feel like enough.

She is the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. She stuns and amazes me every single day, and I feel like the luckiest guy in the world when she looks at me.

The way her brilliant blue eyes light up when she smiles. No other girl could ever compare. The way she makes me feel. I just know, she’s it, my one in a million. No other girl could make me feel the way she does.

I looked down with a smile as I felt her shift closer to me.

Out here in the bed of my beat up old pick up just leaning back and watching the stars. Nothing too special, except it was her. Everything feels perfect with her.

I felt the overwhelming urge to voice my feelings.

I’m a little nervous, what if she doesn’t feel the same?

I’m eighteen and I’ve already found the love of my life. The thought of anything shattering the perfect picture in my mind terrifies me.

God, I’m head over heels for her.

I love her and tonight I will tell her those three little words.

You won't see it coming but one day you're gonna turn around

And I'll put a ring on the finger I've been wrapped around

Feedback fuels me, please like, comment reblog or send an ask. Feel free to scream, I promise I can take it.

Masterlist can be found in my bio.

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[ailuronymy]

Book Club: Tallstar’s Revenge, chpt. 19-27 overview.

Meta analysis of Erin Hunter writing tropes and trends, courtesy of two acclaimed e-sports commentators: 

“[Erin Hunter is] like, we need these characters to seem smart, so they will be the ones to call out all the bullshit. But they [the writers] don't go, wait, why is the bullshit even happening, it doesn’t make sense, and then write something better in the first place. I guess because we read these books on such a meta level so often, it really feels like watching one person play ping-pong against themselves, but one persona needs to look good so the other persona keeps giving themselves wedgies at the table and holding the paddle the wrong way. Which is... less impressive overall than just watching a nice normal game of ping-pong.” - S.

“Erin Hunter, about to self-own: I'm gonna pull what's called a pro-gamer move,” - K.   

“Literally! I can’t get past it. I know both players are you, Erin Hunter. I can see you putting on your dunce hat and walking to the other end of the table. You’re not tricking me.” - S. 

This week we’re discussing this chapter through these nine questions. Please feel welcome to do the same and @ailuronymy + use the tag #ailuronymy writing challenge. Happy reading and I’m looking forward to seeing your feelings about this book.

1. First impressions?

K. Oh boy. Lots of emotions, lots of rollercoaster moments. I'm actively hating the things that are happening, all the time, forever.

S. Mood. I would say actively detesting what's happening is the primary emotion now.

2. How did you feel reading this section?

S. Very much bounced between anger and frustration, with moments of genuine delight. Very much extreme ends of the negative and positive spectrum.

K. I don't think I've been more confused and full of pure venom in my life. As a writer I am appalled, and as a reader I am... so uncertain. The good bits were truly lovely to read, though. They made it feel worthwhile, when they shone through.

3. What chapter did you find most interesting/moving/effective, and why?

S. I think it's got to be the conversation with Heatherstar and Barkface. I think that most hooked me. I was also interested with the Flailfoot conversation, although I hated the turn it took. It will be different in my version.

K. Chapter Twenty is the one that actively had me yelling aloud. I was so ready for the Erins to make Tallpaw a tunneller out of sheer fear, and so to see the back-to-back catharsis of Heatherstar disbanding the tunnellers and then Dawnstripe being so A+... god. It got me good.

4. What chapter did you find least interesting/effective/most frustrating, and why?

K. I honestly blue-screened throughout all of Chapter Twenty-Seven, the last chapter. Without anything happening at all,  I saw a swathe of unending, dull descriptive text and my mind just blacked out to save me from comprehending any of it.

S. Was that the moonstone one?

K. Nope, that's like, the very last chapter of our reading. When he leaves the Clan and finds some rogue cat to lead him in the direction of a house.

S. Oh right. I forgot that too. I'm going to go with the Moonstone chapter, though. I fell asleep and dreamed of a better book for that whole time.

5. Is there a passage that stuck in your mind–for good, or not-so-good reasons? What is it, and why did it stand out? Try breaking it down and analysing what this passage does and how.

S. There were several things in this chapter I loved and that really resonated with my concept of Tallpaw and my writing. 

S. “He’d be a warrior soon, then a senior warrior like Hareflight. One day he’d be an elder, limping like Whiteberry and sharing stories from moons ago with his denmates. Above the vast sky stretched toward distant horizon. The Clan looked small and fragile beneath it. Was this it? His life laid out before him like an old story, told again and again through countless moons? Tallpaw’s chest tightened. Suddenly he felt trapped, as though he were in the tunnels once again.”

S. “A thought flashed in his mind. We’re just visitors, like the rogues. We arrive, we eat, we sleep, and then we move on to StarClan. The only difference was that Clan cats stayed in one place their whole life. I’ll only ever see heather and grass and sky. Tallpaw felt WindClan’s borders pressing closer.” I loved this kind of thinking showing up in the story, and I’d have loved way more of this and far far less of literally everything else. You could honestly cut out all of the Sandgorse angst and just lean into this, because it's good and it's real.

S. I also lost my whole mind at this bit: “They’re survivors, like you,” Barkpaw purred. They walked in silence for a while. Talltail gently steered his friend toward Outlook Rock.  “I love this view,” he mewed as he led Barkpaw out across the stone. Barkpaw peered into the night-shadowed valley. “Why? Everything is so dark and far away.”  Talltail sat down, beckoning Barkpaw to sit beside him with a flick of his tail. “Just wait.”  “For what?” The sky was growing pale as the sun pushed up toward the horizon behind them. Glancing over his shoulder, Talltail saw weak rays seeping through the bare branches of ThunderClan’s forest. “You’ll see in a moment,” he told Barkpaw.  As he spoke, the sun lifted above the trees. Sunlight swept the moor and lit up the tips of Highstones.  S. I was basically like fist-pumping. Canonical evidence that dawn is Tallstar's favourite time of day. I didn't know this before I wrote my other story, but damn it feels good. I love when things line up serendipitously like that. 

K.  Absolutely. Those felt so good to read. Not a very long passage, but: “How could his Clan be so unfeeling?” — This isn’t a galaxy brain take or anything, but I do love how evident it is that Tallpaw is just. Solidly projecting his own feelings onto everyone else. They’re not unfeeling, dog! You are!!

6. What themes have you noticed in this section? Are these themes a continuation of the themes you noticed in the first section, or has the story’s focus changed since then?

S. In the first chunk, I picked out "division" as a theme. And that feels very true still, as far as what's happening in the story. It's even more emphatic, with Palebird pushing Talltail out of her family (or so he feels, and with reason, in my opinion) and his self-imposed removal from the clan.

K. "Desire" might also be poignant for this section, actually. Talltail's desire to go off on his own, Barkface's desire for Talltail to be happy, so many other background characters doing something with their lives to have a new start (while Talltail broods).

S. Yes! I agree there. It's actually pretty interesting how the clan's unity in the face of tragedy and their kinship with the visitors is actually a big catalyst for Talltail to feel that division happening. The more together they are, the more apart he feels. I think desire is true of this too. There's--as always--a lot of emphasis on individuality, and choosing your own destiny and doing what you want.  It reminds me of that line from Hawkheart that I really liked, how every cat has to choose their destiny.

7. If you were going to learn a lesson from this section, what lesson would it be? What message stands out to you most clearly? Do you agree with it?

S. I think insofar as I can glean a lesson from this section, I'd go with learning from Heatherstar: sometimes it will be difficult to help people and they might resent you for it, but if you have the power to make a positive change, you should act, even though it's hard. S. That feels very appropriate, given the state of the world right now. So many people are angry that authority figures are telling them to stay home and prevent the spread of COVID, and are resenting the very people who are trying to save their lives. I can see that same issue playing out so clearly in these chapters, after the death of Sandgorse in the tunnels.

K. Absolutely. It's so, so easy to direct anger towards something or someone tangible, rather than accepting that there are things that Just Happen and there's nothing you can do about it.

K. I was going to say something very similar: the things you need to make yourself better aren't always the things you want to hear. So many people try to help guide Talltail away from his anger or towards other, much healthier ways of thinking -- all of them trying to tell him he doesn't HAVE to be a tunneler is one moment -- and he just HATES hearing it, every time. He doesn't want to accept it. It feels better to be in his emotions about it, even if that's most obviously the worst thing he could be doing for himself and for others. Sometimes you just have to let other people give you the honest to god vibe check and learn to put your heart down for a bit, to see what you need to see.

S. Definitely. I feel that getting better necessitates taking responsibility for yourself. It seems like Talltail is resisting that, maybe because it's difficult to be honest with yourself. If you try, you risk failing. And the problem with any kind of self-improvement or recovery is that it's overall made up of little moments of trying to be better every day. That's so much failure to face, it can feel insurmountable. Whereas one grand gesture of revenge? So much easier.  Anger is a motivating emotion, so if you stay in anger, you can often get things done. But anger is also an emotion that makes it harder to react with patience or think clearly. A double-edged sword, if you will.

K. Absolutely. Pinning "if I complete X Task, I will feel better and fix myself" on some big goal is way easier.

S. I think that's what's happening for him at this time. He's not willing to do the mundane, scary work of trying to be better each day, and is going for something he thinks will alleviate guilt instead. But of course it won't.

8. The title of this novel is Tallstar’s Revenge. How do you feel about that title so far? Does it reflect the content of the story well, or would you choose a different title? What alternative title would you suggest?

S. I personally feel the title sets up the story poorly. Because I knew it was hinged around revenge, I was alert and looking for it from the start. I was paying attention to potential betrayals or crimes, so on. And when I realised this extremely unlikeable awful character, Sandgorse, was the catalyst, I got real mad.

K. I don't even know what better title would work, since I'm honestly not very fond of the Super Editions titles. They just... all do the same, on-the-nose shit and it makes it very boring from the start.

S. I think if we were allowed to tweak it a little, The Forgiveness of Tallstar, would be a title I would potentially enjoy more. There's an ambiguity to it, re: who is being forgiven. Is it Tallstar who needs to be forgiven, or is it Tallstar doing the forgiving. And I think you could thematically tie that in so much better to the kinds of beats this story is already showing up.

K. The only like, quote from the book that I think you could mangle into a title is "We guard the edge of the world," which like... I dunno, having something like "On The Edge" included in there feels right. The book's obviously full of big tension and drama within Windclan, while also noting that they literally are on the fringe of Clan territory.

S. I think maybe Beyond the Edge of the World? Since that’s essentially where Tallstar��s journey takes him? 

K. Yeah!

9. Many of us read because we’re curious to find out what’s next. How has curiosity featured in your experience of this book? What’s motivated you to keep reading?

K. Hoo boy. Honestly, half of the reason I'm reading is just with crossed fingers that somehow, SOMEHOW, Talltail becomes better. I know he must. He has to.

S.  For me, curiosity is a big part of why I'm reading--and continuing to read--this book. I want to know what happens next! I'm just usually expecting not to like it.

Final notes:

K. I'm excited for Jake to show up, because I feel that'll help break up whatever the hell Talltail is doing. He needs an excitable twink to break him from the evil fog he's in. S. I don't know if Jake is a twink, honestly. K. Oh, very true. We do love a good himbo. S. He's a bit of a rolypoly boy, according to the wiki. K. OH, even better. K. I forgot that Talltail is the twink. S. He's just a long sad string bean.

K. I AM APALLED AT THIS TURN OF EVENTS, ERIN K. This book is… it’s like being consistently starved to death and then given like, a single apple slice and going ravenous for it. There are so many moments that FEEL great (even if they’re not miraculous, writing or content wise), almost solely because so many things that precede them straight up cause my reader brain to flatline. The despicable one-two punch of Chapter Nineteen into the handful of great moments in Chapter Twenty makes me feel like I’m being waterboarded by Erin Hunter. K. Erin Hunter, holding my head down into the waters of godawful content, before yanking me up for air to see Heatherstar and Dawnstripe saying Good Things just to shove me in again. S. I can't disagree with you. S. I genuinely had moments of going "yeah!!!" followed by "NO!!!" like that one John Mulaney skit.

S. Anyway, I'd like to start us off with a familiar old Erin Hunter classic theme, quoting my notes:  - "Is it even a Warriors novel without multiple birth scenes?" - "Oh excellent another peripheral birth scene, I felt that there wasn’t quite enough in this book so far" S. If I don't have multiple women moaning and/or shrieking and/or groaning from birthing pains in my Warriors novels, I'd be devastated. K. It'd break the immersion.

K. I am very happy to see Deadfoot on the scene though, even though he shows up for like. .5 seconds before he's gone. A very good and lovely baby boy. S. “Tallpaw turned back and tucked his nose under the black tom’s belly. “Hang on!” he warned, flipping the kit onto his shoulders. Tallpaw purred as the young kit dug his tiny claws into his pelt, and carried him over to his littermates.” uhhhh what the fuck K. YUP K. Y U P K. HEY ERIN S. Let me just uhhh toss this child like a sack of potatoes over my cat shoulder real quick. K. Tiny Tim over here S. I lost it. I'm like, you really don't care what cat bodies can do, do you?  K. Erin Hunter: hmmm what if we just pepper in some wack shit. Like, what if it's just. Nonsensical as fuck. Who's gonna tell us we can't? Harper Collins? S. And the answer is: of fucking course not, kitty kung fu time.

K. “You’ve turned mean, Tallpaw,” Reena spat. “ That’s why you’ve got no friends anymore. Whenever a cat comes near you, you bite their head off.” “So?” Tallpaw hissed. “At least I don’t kill them.” “See what I mean?” Reena’s gaze hardened. “Why don’t you talk to me once you’ve finished feeling sorry for yourself?” — God I love Reena, calling it like it is. S. Mood, but also: hate Erin Hunter for doing this to him, over Sandgorse. K. "Flailfoot is trying to reason for a Sandgorse Redemption Arc and I will NOT be having it, you LOSE sir, GOOD DAY," S. Note two from my notes page: "I DON’T CARE ABOUT SANDGORSE" S.  Gets abused by father. Father dies in what is objectively an accident caused by his own defiance and hubris. ??? Goes on a hateful revenge spiral to try and make daddy proud. K.  The worst part is that, unlike Bluestar's which was a fucking awful mess the entire way through, this one gives us just enough to show that the Erins are capable of like. SOMETHING. They can write okay things! They know what they're handing us is bullshit and they do it anyway! It's infuriating. S. From a writing perspective, it's kind of fascinating to see this all happen, because like. What a fucking horrorshow. S. Really feeling in this moment for the people who think Erin Hunter is a good writer. They're getting swindled on Sherlock is Garbage and Here's Why levels. S. Where's the secret good fourth episode, Erin???

K.  “Tallpaw’s wish to learn the skills that led to his father’s death shows true courage.” — HEATHERSTAR WITH THE PREMIUM ROASTS K. Followed by: image: “fuck them [tunnels]” K.  “Shrewpaw!” Dawnstripe glared at the apprentice. “Show some respect to your Clanmate.” Hareflight joined them. “Stop teasing him, Shrewpaw!” “This has gone beyond teasing!” Dawnstripe snapped. “If Shrewpaw were my apprentice, I’d claw his ears.” — HOLY FUCK, GET HIM K. The fact that nobody has noticed Shrewpaw using his claws during training is fucking ridiculous, though. He's done it the whole book, Erin. They would know. They would know. S. Admittedly don't love how everyone's concept of discipline is straight to violence, but we'll overlook that, I guess. K. I understand that like, bullying is something that can go unseen very often, but like. Come on, man. S. Yeah. It's like wearing knuckledusters to a playground fight. Hard to overlook.

S. It's what happens when your characters don't have internal worlds. They're just props standing there until you need them, not people watching and listening to what you're writing right in front of them. S. The problem with Erin Hunter's writing for me is that by this point it's hard to read their female characters generously. S. Most of the time I can go, "okay but if we pretend this woman is real, what rich inner world does she experience?" and try to pick up where lazy writers leave off, but like... Erin Hunter's characters are so vapid. K. It's horrible to read. It's just the worst. S. Not just the female characters, but especially the female characters. And I hate it. K. I'm genuinely surprised that Dawnstripe and Heatherstar haven't been mangled already, but honestly, half of my rage at this book comes from their moments, because it shows that the Erins know exactly what they're doing and how bad this fucking plot is. K. Two major background characters are constantly talking about how things Should Not Be The Way They Are, and it just makes me wanna bang my head on a wall. I know you can see the elephant in the room, Erin. You know this. You know the bad things you're making. S. I genuinely feel that’s why they do it. They make bad plots because it’s easier to make certain characters seem smart or likeable if everyone’s a rude idiot.  S. They’re like, we need these characters to seem smart, so they will be the ones to call out all the bullshit. But they [the writers] don't go, wait, why is the bullshit even happening, it doesn’t make sense, and then write something better in the first place. S. I guess because we read these books on such a meta level so often, it really feels like watching one person play ping-pong against themselves, but one persona needs to look good so the other persona keeps giving themselves wedgies at the table and holding the paddle the wrong way. K. FUCK, THAT'S EXACTLY IT S. Which is... less impressive overall than just watching a nice normal game of ping-pong. K. Erin Hunter, about to self-own: I'm gonna pull what's called a pro-gamer move, S. I just can't get past it. S. I know both players are you, Erin Hunter. I can see you putting on your dunce hat and walking to the other end of the table. S. It makes it really hard to sink into the story. Whenever something stupid happens, I'm brutally yanked out of the narrative, and it's happening constantly at this point, because of the direction they're taking Tallpaw. S. I've tried to like, put that aside and imagine his perspective, but it's so challenging for me to envision an experience where I'm a nice boy on a moor with an idiot backwards dad who bullies me and tries to control my life with emotional manipulation and disregard for authority, and then he dies of the thing everyone was saying was super dangerous and off-limits, and then I lose my mind because I didn't make him proud while he was alive (which he's not anymore, because of tunnelling) so I need to do the thing that killed him (which is tunnelling). S. Tallpaw can't be smart and also have this characterisation for me. It's too incongruent.

[jeanvaljean24601]

Unsolved Mysteries

”Unsolved Mysteries“Boss Offers Updates on Cold Cases and Talks Tackling Ghosts in Upcoming Episodes。Since its debut “Unsolved Mysteries” has been sitting atop Netflix’s “Top 10” queue and while executive producer Terry Dunn Meurer is obviously “thrilled” with the reception of the streaming revival, Meurer also admits the production team “would be happier” if they could have solved the majority of cases explored within.

But perhaps they still can. The 33-year-old series never had the online support of millions of armchair detectives on social media before, nor quite the international reach of streaming giant Netflix. These things combined make for a pretty impressive army of concerned citizens looking to right a wrong.

Despite the decision to ditch its previous formula of actors recreating each mystery in favor of additional interviews with family members and other loved ones of victims, the purpose of “Unsolved Mysteries” remains the same today as it did when it began: to investigate cold cases and reignite hope when there often is none. And occasionally, it will even continue to dip into the paranormal, such as with UFO cases and ghost stories, the latter of which will be included in the upcoming batch of episodes Muerer says have been shot, edited and delivered, and are going to be released “sometime later this year.”Here, Meurer provides Variety with updates on some key cases and offers a look ahead at the next batch of episodes, including whether or not they will look into ghosts.

How do you go about choosing each case?We get story submissions, and we have a database of hundreds of story submissions. It is really challenging to figure out which cases to produce. We knew that we had an order for six [episodes]. So, out of that six, we wanted to make sure there was a variety of categories. There’s unexplained deaths and a missing person and a murder and paranormal. It’s always important to have a variety of categories — there’s something for everyone. Then we wanted to add in some international stories. Out of the 12 [episodes] that we’ve produced, three of them are international. Two of the international stories will be in the second [batch of episodes]. Then we look at every other kind of diversity: We’ve got international versus domestic, we have rural versus urban, we have age diversity, we have ethnic and racial diversity. They all have to have a lot of twists and turns and need to be very intriguing. If they’re intriguing to us, we know that they’re going to be intriguing to an audience.android box

There are also stories like the case of Patrice [Endres]. Is it an unsolved mystery? The internet seems to believe her husband Rob did it.It’s totally an unsolved mystery. Jeremy Jones has not been ruled out as a suspect in this case, and neither has Gary Hilton. We really try and present balanced cases. As far as I’m concerned, Rob is innocent until proven guilty. We take everyone’s interview at face value. Rob’s a character, but he was very, very honest with us in his responses to the interview, and we believe him. We respect him, and we respect everyone we interview. As Mitch Posey, the investigator says, “Everybody remains a suspect until the case is solved,” but it is an unsolved mystery. Who abducted and killed Patrice? That’s the mystery.

What did her son Pistol [Black] think of Rob’s interview?

We haven’t spoken to Pistol. We’ve spoken to Pistol’s dad, Don, but we haven’t spoken directly to Pistol. We know he’s doing fine. With any of these stories, there’s always information that we can’t include. I wish there were a few other things that I wish we could have included. I think he’s pleased with how the story came out, but we haven’t gotten any comments from him about Rob.

How has social media changed the reception of “Unsolved Mysteries” in 2020?

It didn’t exist when we did the original episodes. The show would air on a certain day at a certain time on a network, and you could watch it once. You couldn’t rewind it. I guess you could tape it off the air. And then it would air again, usually in the summer, and that was it. Now the old episodes have been streaming, so people have an opportunity to look at those in more depth again if they want to. We didn’t have the kind of commentary, and the kind of armchair detectives who jump in and really do try and solve these cases and come up with theories. It’s been amazing to see the reaction on social media.

How many email tips have you received?

There’s probably around 2,000 tips and comments at this point [on unsolved.com] but not all of those are credible leads. Somebody asked me, “How many credible leads have you gotten?” I don’t have an answer for that because I don’t know. We pass the leads if there’s law enforcement involved. Like in the Alonzo Brooks case. We’ve been sending leads to them for Alonzo. I’ve been working on the [Rey] Rivera case. And then the lead for Endres is going directly to the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. We know they’re working the leads we’re giving them, and I’m sure they’re getting leads of their own, but we just don’t know. There’s just no way to quantify how many credible leads there are. But a lot has come in. It’s been very active.

How do you assess a credible tip?

If someone names a name, that would be a credible tip [or] if somebody said, “I was a witness.” If somebody who was at the party where Alonzo was said, “I was a witness to what happened to Alonzo,” that would be a credible tip. We haven’t gotten that yet, let me be clear about that. Anything that has specific information is great. If somebody called and said in the Rivera case, “I own that money clip” or “I know where that money clip is,” that would be a credible lead. Or in Endres, if they said, “Oh, I know that blue Lumina with the wildlife tag.”

There’s some vague tips that come in that are very difficult to follow up on: “I know who killed Ray Rivera.” We email back and we say, “Could you give us more information? Can you give us some details?” We don’t pass those leads onto the FBI or to the law enforcement because we know there’s nothing they can do with them. We try to get whoever submitted the tips to give us more specific information as they can. We would rather have law enforcement vet the tips. We’re not investigators, and you never know what they’re going to see in a tip that we aren’t experienced to see.

How many people do you have reading tips on staff?

There’s a team of about five, six people on different shifts so that we have somebody on the website all the time, going through the tips. And we still have tips and leads in cases getting solved from the original shows. There’s a 30-year-old case, it’s probably going to get solved in the next month or two that we’ve been working with a detective on. I kind of always refer to it as a living, breathing television series where it has a life of its own. You never know when you’re going to get a phone call from the French police and they say, “You know what? We found Xavier [Dupont de Ligonnès].” That’s the mission of the show is to solve these cases. That’s the goal.

What’s the old case that you think is going to crack soon?

There was a young man who committed suicide in a church in Idaho. He’s a John Doe — he’s been a John Doe for 30 years. And the investigator in this police department of relatively new investigators decided he wanted to try and solve this case. My understanding is he went to the file, which was in a box, and the only thing that was in the box — the only information in the box — was a VHS copy of “Unsolved Mysteries.” He reached out to us and said, “Do you have anything? Do you have the note this man left behind? Do you have any of the details from the case?” And we actually had it, which was surprising to me after all these years. We gave him the information we had, and this investigator has been working on it. He just recently, in the last couple of weeks, reached out and said, “I think that we might have figured out who this man is.” My heart goes out to people who don’t know what has happened to their loved one. Even if they’ve passed away, they need to know. Solving these John and Jane Doe cases are really, really important to me.

Can we run through each new case? The world is really eager for updates on every episode. What’s happening with Rey Rivera?android tvbox

There’s been a lot of conversation around the note that he left behind, and also the helicopter theory. When you have a case this mysterious and you cannot figure out how Rey came off of that roof and landed where he did — I was up on that roof and I’m baffled — I think people look for stuff. “Well, what other theories are there if he didn’t come off the roof? Well, maybe he was dropped from a helicopter.” That theory has been circulating.

I know with Patrice Endres, the GBI hasn’t shared the tips that have come in on that particular case. [People are] hoping to find Patrice’s wedding ring or somebody who knows what happened to that. Or the blue Lumina. Somebody could connect that to someone that. That would be great, but we don’t have any specifics on that case.

Alonzo Brooks was probably [the case] we’ve received the most emails on. Lots of theories that we had already heard when we were producing the episodes, but there are some new names that have come in and that we forwarded onto the FBI.

Has no one come forward who was at that party?

There were a lot of people there at that party, somebody witnessed what happened. We just hope that they’ll come forward. The FBI offering that $100,000 dollar reward, which they just announced in the last month. That was so incredible and hopefully motivates somebody to come forward with what they know in that case, because somebody knows.

Was the Brooks case reopened because “Unsolved Mysteries” was digging around? [Editor Note: The reward was announced before the show launched.]

We’re told that, when we were producing the episode over a year ago, the FBI started to look at it again and reopen it. But they just recently made the announcement that it was reopened and that the reward was being offered. Because we reached out to the Kansas Bureau of Investigation and the FBI about the case. At the end of the episode, Billy Brooks, Alonzo’s brother says, “This case needs to stay open. It should never have been closed.” And then, there you go. The case was reopened right before the show premiered. We feel like there might’ve been a connection, and we’ve been told there was a connection, our producers.

Yeah. You know, people always say “sad” and they say “tragic” and that’s really true, but the show gives people so much hope. And the Brooks family has hope — Maria, Alonzo’s mom; everyone has hope. Rodney [English], who was his childhood friend, reached out to us by text and said, “Are there really a lot of tips coming in?” They’re so excited. I hope that their hopes aren’t dashed, but that’s what the show does. I think the audience hopes these cases will get solved. They get invested with these characters and they want to see closure. We want it for the families, but we also want it for the audience.

Do you personally feel that Brooks was where he was located the whole time, despite not being found by the KBI?

I go back and forth on that, honestly. That’s one of the most mysterious aspects of this case. Was Alonzo’s body there all the time, and was it underwater and then [it] popped up when a rainstorm came along? Or was his body placed there? We just got a tip from an entomologist, she was looking at these photos of Alonzo’s clothing and there were maggots on that clothing. She said those maggots often can tell a story of how long that body had been exposed. We passed that on to the FBI, and hopefully they have somebody in their system that could take a look at that. It’s probably not going to solve the case, but it could answer the question that you’re asking, which is: “How long was Alonzo’s body there?”

And what is going on with Lena Chaplin’s case?

Well, Lena, we just would hope that someone would come forward and say where Lena is buried. That would be the dream in that case.

Xavier, we got the most interesting tip. Somebody was actually in Chicago, I think they were on Lake Shore Drive, and they heard this guy talking French and they looked at him and they had just seen the episode. They sent us a photo, and it really did look like Xavier. It was striking. So we sent that tip on. But again, this is just a stranger — we don’t have a name, we don’t have anything specific. In the Xavier case, what we’re hoping for is that he’s remarried or he has a girlfriend or he lives next door to somebody or he has a coworker who absolutely 100% knows that’s him. We need a very specific lead, because those leads come in from all over the world. Xavier looks so much like so many other people. With Netflix’s global reach, if Xavier is going to be found, we’re really hoping that the Netflix audience will find him. If he’s alive. That’s the mystery. Did he kill himself after he went through the elaborate work that he did, or is he out there somewhere? So we’re hoping he’s catchable if he’s alive, because of Netflix reach, global reach, or national reach.

In the next six episodes, will there be a ghost episode?

Yes. But I’ll qualify that and say it’s an unusual ghost episode. That’s all I’ll say. It’s different. A bit different.

How has working on this show for so long changed you?tvbox

I don’t know that it has. I guess it makes me more cautious about myself and my children. I think that the scarier stories for people are the ones where somebody is doing everything right, and something goes wrong. But I’ve loved “Mysteries” from the time I was very, very young. I was a Nancy Drew fan and Agatha Christie fan. Recently in looking back, I’ve thought, “How lucky am I that I could take this passion of mine, which is mysteries and intrigue, and twists and turns, and actually have that be my career and almost my life’s work?” We’ve been producing “Unsolved Mysteries”, involved with the brand, created the brand and then been managing the brand for 34 years. That’s probably unusual in the television business where you’re involved with brand for that many years. So it’s been very gratifying, the number of cases that have been solved and the people that we feel like we’ve helped. We just want to keep it going. We just want to keep following more cases. I still have hope. I don’t think it’s changed me a lot. I still have as much hope as I did back when we did the first special that we’re going to solve a case. And I still get that same feeling of excitement when we do solve the case and we get some leads come in. It’s very exciting. And we just very hopeful. So we may maintain the hope that we’ve always had that we can keep solving cases.

“Unsolved Mysteries” is streaming now on Netflix.

[musicnoots]

Venus - The Bringer of Peace

Eugene Roe/Reader

A/N: This is what happens when I listen to Gustav Holst’s The Planets five times in one day for an entire week. Inspired by the second movement of the suite: Venus - The Bringer of Peace. You can listen to it here.

Synopsis: Even in a time of death and suffering, you always bring peace to Eugene’s world.

Tags: @gottapenny @dustyjjumpwings @higgles123 @croatianbagudna @wexhappyxfew

To say that he loved you was an understatement.

Eugene loves you. You embodied life and happiness, the epitome of peace on Earth, the greatest person he had ever met. You brought happiness to the men of Easy Company, redirecting their thoughts from the horrors of war to little jokes and light hearted comments. To Eugene, you were a blessing that no one deserved.

He loved the way you smiled because it radiated happiness and joy in a place of death and gore. He loved the sound of your voice because it sounded like the melody of a symphony. He loved the way you cared about everyone, putting their wellbeing over your own even though it wasn’t needed. He admired your selflessness, wishing that there were more people like you in the world.

You were truly a blessing to Easy Company.

It was most noticeable in Bastogne, one of the hardest times both physically and emotionally for most of the men, but you made it seem like just another day.

“Hey, Gene.” You stopped in front of his foxhole, shivering and with your hands wrapped around yourself. “You okay?”

“Yeah...yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” he replies back, taking a shaky drag of his cigarette.

You don’t even need an invite from him when you step into his foxhole, your shoulders bumping into each other as you lowered yourself to sit. “I thought I’d just check, y’know? After everything that’s happened so far, everyone’s a bit rattled up. I just want to make sure everyone’s okay. Where’s Spina?”

He smiled at your selfless act of kindness. After what had happened to Toye and Guarnere just days earlier, everyone started to grow silent. It was particularly hard on you, being close to the pair and being one of the first to see them after the mortar hit, yet you were still going out of your way to make sure others were okay. “Spina, uh…” he said, snapping out of his little bubble, “he’s checkin’ someone out. Wha ‘bout you? You okay?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you ran your hands through your hair. Of course you weren’t okay, you saw two of your close friends with their limbs blown off. “Been a rough week, especially with what happened to Joe and Bill…”

“I knew you were close to them,” he acknowledges, looking at your emotionless face when you mentioned them.

“We went all the way back. Back to Toccoa.”

You were best pals with Joe and Bill. Together, you guys were like the three musketeers of the Airborne Division. You guys drink together, eat rations together, share foxholes together...you were supposed to leave the war together. Now, it was just you alone in a world way too big for you.

Eugene wished he could have that, but the downside of it was having to mourn the loss of every person he loses. He already mourns the men he lost in his arms even after everything he’s done. He takes everything personally, and the last person he’d want to see get hurt was you. “I’m sorry,” he says, knowing that condolences won’t bring them back. “We’ve lost so many since we came here.”

“And you’re doing a great job, Gene.” You offered him a meek smile when he looked at you, confused. “You’re saving a lot of people out here.”

“Nah,” he says, putting out his cigarette, “I’ve lost so many out here. My best isn’t enough to save everyone.”

“What you’re doing is enough, so many men are leaving here alive and wounded rather than dead all because of you. Here, men meet the end of their journey, but you come over and tell them Not today.”

“I can’t save everybody, though.”

“Yeah, and neither can Spina, so what? So many men are going home alive because of what you did, Gene. You’re an angel.”

Eugene tried not to smile. He’s not one to smile a lot, especially in a place of war, but after hearing the praise from your lips, all he wants to do is lay down and rest. He’s not entirely sure of how much help he provides the company, blinded by the loss of so many men in his care. “I guess so.”

“Oh, thank God,” you eased the tension running through your body. Eugene was one of your favorites in the company, but the man was way too stubborn to acknowledge his contributions. “But seriously, how you doin’, Gene? You been sleeping like I told you to?”

Two days ago you told him to sleep and rest in his spare time. Yesterday, you told him the same thing. You just wonder if he’s actually doing it. “I haven’t slept in…” he pauses, “I don’t know, feels like days now.” You frown. “Wha’ ‘bout you? You sleepin’ fine?”

“Sleepin’ fine. Feels weird in an empty foxhole now. I just keep seeing them in my dreams.”

“Who?”

“Joe and Bill,” you said quietly. “I miss them.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Eugene remembers that moment, too. He came running to their aid minutes after you called for a medic, your chest becoming too tight for you to breathe at the sight of your best friends with their limbs blown off. You were frozen in place, feeling the world slowly crush you with its weight yet, you were still standing straight. Eugene was asking if you were alright, telling you that it was going to be okay and that they were going to live, but those words never registered into your mind as you just focused on the bloodied snow and the pain running through your chest.

When Joe and Bill left the forest, you returned back to your foxhole, shaking and crying. Eugene watched as you left, wanting to go and wipe your tears away, but he was dragged away with another call for a medic. He never forgot that moment, though. It was the first time he saw Easy Company’s ray of sunshine in tears.

He was puzzled when you were asking people about their well being and giving them your extra food rations the next day, as if you hadn’t seen your best friends almost die.

That was the most amazing thing about you. You could experience the most traumatic thing in your entire life and still worry about other people rather than yourself. You were a symbol of peace, love, and beauty in a place of death and suffering, a reminder of the good things in life, that these men are going to get through it.

“They woulda been proud of you,” Eugene spoke, and you gave him a confused look. “Toye and Guarnere.”

“Why? I didn’t do shit when they got hit. I’m not a medic.”

“Not that,” Eugene shifted so that his hands were resting on his lap next to yours. “What you’re doin’.” You looked at him confused. “Askin’ everyone if they’re okay, makin’ sure they’re okay. You do it all the time, and you don’t even notice it.”

You shrugged. “Yeah and? It’s basic human decency, everyone needs to know that someone cares about them like I care about you, Eugene.”

“Human decency is what most of these men need, Y/N. You bring that to ‘em when they need it the most, and you don’t even have to ask. You just know. Now, I ain’t no saint or whateva, but I know that you’re an angel. You’re a godsend, a messenger from God.”

You looked straight at the ground, trying to blink away the tears forming in your eyes. You didn’t know this is what the men thought of you. You were just being kind. “You really think that, Gene?”

“‘Course I do. Everyone here does, Y/N.” He looked over to find you smiling for the first time in days, making him smile at the sight of you being happy. “You keep peace here. It don’t matter what happened to you, you just go and make sure everyone else is okay. You deserve everything in the entire world.”

You were like Venus, the goddess of love, beauty, prosperity, and the bringer of peace. You kept the world right side up for these men, keeping Eugene in check with reality and promising him that it will get better and that he is doing more than enough for this company. The war has brought the death and injuries to your friends, to yourself, the horrific scenes of battle and suffering. Even with all of this going on, you have brought peace to Eugene Roe, and he is eternally grateful to have you by his side.

“Thank you,” you whisper, lips curling into a small smile as you lean on Eugene’s shoulder, waiting for him to make up an excuse to run off again. He doesn’t this time.

He sighs and relaxes for the first time in a long time. He hates to admit that he actually likes something in this war, he fucking hates it. He’s supposed to hate everything in this war because everything leads to men dying, men dying in his hands and it’s all his fault.

But he doesn’t hate this.

“I like this,” he admits. “Can you stay a bit longer?”

You smile and nod. “Of course I will. I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”