#and the response i usually get is it’ll pass and you’ll get over it

[hotshotsxyz]

7x10 coda. beware the spoilers

Three months pass, and Eddie still isn’t used to it. It’s too quiet at home, and too awful at work, and he still grabs two bowls every morning even though he’s the only one eating.

He thinks about quitting, again. Leaving behind Captain Asshole and following Christopher to Texas. He knows he can’t. He’d promised. Eddie clenches his fists and forces himself to finish buttoning his uniform.

He sends Christopher a text, the same one he sends every morning, then shuts his phone in his locker.

“Line up in five,” Gerrard bellows from the loft. “If you’re late, you’ll be scrubbing the rig with a toothbrush, no exceptions.”

Eddie stands mechanically and walks over to the bay.

Another day, another goddamn reason to bury himself in blankets and hide until the world ends.

Buck invites him over for dinner most nights, or offers to go home with him. Eddie says no more than he says yes, but Buck… Buck’s always known Eddie better than he knows himself. He doesn’t stop asking.

“C’mon Eddie, it’ll be fun—you, me and Tommy, we can come up with ways to drive Gerrard insane.”

Buck looks at him, soft and imploring, an expression Eddie rarely knows how to refuse. But despite everything that’s happened, Buck’s managed to carve out a small sliver of happiness, and Eddie doesn’t want to drag him down.

“You go ahead,” he says. “I’m picking up half a shift at  the 136 tomorrow. Need to get some sleep.”

It’s true and it’s not. He is picking up the shift, but he doubts he’ll sleep.

He goes back to therapy, but he never knows what to say. It was all—everything was in his head, last time. It’s not, now. It’s all real, and it all hurts, and no amount of talking about it makes it hurt any less. He says as much to Frank.

“Then why are you here?” Frank asks.

Eddie looks away. “I don’t know,” he says.

That’s not quite true either.

Kim calls him, and Marisol doesn’t. She leaves voicemail after voicemail, apologizing for that night. Eddie can never bring himself to answer the phone. Eventually, he blocks her number.

He texts his own apology to Marisol, but it never goes through. It’s probably for the best—he doubts the message would’ve made either of them feel better.

Eddie needs—he doesn’t know. Before, he would’ve said time. Now though, he’s got all the time in the world, and he’s desperate to get rid of it.

Buck calls. Eddie can’t answer him, either. He lets it ring out, then listens to the voicemail.

“Hey Eds, it’s me. I uh—just wanted to check in. It’s been a couple days. Call me when you can.”

Eddie tells himself he will, but he has no idea when that’ll be.

Christopher doesn’t text him, but he does text Buck.

Eddie never asks what he says, and Buck usually doesn’t offer to tell him.

“Just—he’s okay, right?”

Buck smiles, a little bit sad, and leans into Eddie’s space. “He’s okay,” he says. “He misses you, even if he’s not ready to tell you that.”

Tears streak down Eddie’s face before he even realizes he’s crying. Buck wipes one away and pulls him against his chest.

“What if he never comes home,” Eddie whispers into the soft material of Buck’s sweater.

“He will,” Buck replies. “He will.”

Good morning, Eddie texts on the one hundred and second day since Christopher left. I love you, and I hope you have a good day.

He drops his phone on the table and tries not to hope for a response. A second later, though, it dings. Eddie’s heart leaps into his throat as he scrambles to open the message.

Morning, Dad.

[mrsjellymunson]

The Biology Tutor | Extra Credits 02

Extra Credits 02: FRENCH

Series masterlist

Prev: Lesson 1: Female Anatomy | Lesson 2: Male Anatomy | Extra Credits 01: Communication Skills Next: Independent Study 01: Art | Independent Study 02: Creative Writing

Pairing: virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!tutor!reader

Series summary: Eddie’s failing Biology class, so you decide to offer two different styles of tuition, textbook-based and *ahem* practical.

Chapter summary: You give Eddie a French lesson.

WC: 2.9k

CW: 🔞 18+ MDNI! This part isn't explicit, but the rest of the series is, so MDNI!! Fluff, kissing, mentions of arousal.

A/N: This takes place between Extra Credit 1 and Lesson 3. It’s an added extra to The Biology Tutor series.

My masterlist

Despite your best efforts to keep things cool, you and Eddie’s relationship at school has shifted.

Eddie will greet you with a cheery, “Heeey, Princess”, whenever you pass in the corridors, and you’ll sometimes give him a cheeky wave in the lunchroom. You both flush a little whenever your eyes lock, thinking about all the intimate stuff you’ve done together over the past days and weeks.

Thankfully, as yet none of your friends have noticed the way you’ve started to giggle a little more loudly at Eddie’s antics on the lunch tables, or the way he shoots you cheeky glances to check that you’re watching. Each of your social groups would likely have something disparaging to say, and you’d prefer to avoid that kind of attention for the time being.

You’ve become even more aware of your physical proximity in Biology class. Even though you could probably reach out and touch each other (and you would really, really like to do that…) you try not to draw too much attention to yourselves.

You’re finding it hard to keep your focus on the front, knowing that Eddie’s sitting inches away behind you. But you revel in the fact that he’s there at all (and is, in all likelihood, checking out your ass).

At the end of class, Mr Clarke calls you over.

“I wanted to thank you for your efforts regarding the private tutoring. Mr Munson’s work has certainly improved since you began, as has his class attendance, which is remarkable in and of itself. And he seems to have become more enthusiastic about the human biology aspect of the syllabus too, which is… unexpected, but really good to see.”

He looks off to one side, momentarily bemused, but recovers quickly and continues,

“Nevertheless, there is a big test coming up which, as you know, makes up a sizable proportion of your grade. I would very much like to see Mr Munson do well. I was hoping that you might help him prepare, and in the hopes that you’d agree, I’ve already booked private study room 2C in the library specifically for this purpose.”

You know the library well, and the one he’s describing is a particularly quiet one, located at the back of the rarely-used reference section. If you can get Eddie to join you, it’ll be the first time you’ve ever been alone with him at school. You experience a frisson of excitement at the thought.

You readily agree, figuring that even if that wasn’t reason enough, getting further in the good graces of Mr Clarke wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. However, you do think convincing Eddie to relinquish his entire lunchtime might be another matter entirely.

You approach him in the lunchroom, managing to get to him before his usual table fills up with nerds. He was initially aghast that you were anywhere near him, but once he realised nobody was really interested he listened to your proposal.

“You seriously do this shit voluntarily?” is his only response, until you mention, more quietly, how it would mean spending an entire hour in a small, isolated room. With you. Alone.

Suddenly, he’s all for it, packing up his stuff as you exit ahead of him. He extols the virtues of ‘accepting with grace the assistance the universe offers you’ to the smattering of confused Hellfire boys before hightailing it out of the hall, stuffing pretzels into his mouth as he goes.

You reach the study room first, and are already setting out books and pencils as Eddie barrels in. He practically skids to a halt, and ambles towards you, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to act nonchalant.

“Hey, Princess.”

He plops his bag onto the tabletop, and as he gestures to the empty seats next to you and across the table, he drops his voice to a lower timbre as he asks you,

“So, uh, where do you want me?”

Thanks to his mildly suggestive question, an image flashes across your mind of perching him, naked, on the edge of the table and climbing atop him, but you quickly shake it.

You tap your hand on the seat next to you, and he enthusiastically flops himself down in it. He sits up straight, clasping his hands in his lap, theatrically attentive.

As he’s already managed to fluster you, you decide to fluster him right back.

“You’re so good at doing what I tell you, Eddie. I like that.”

Eddie’s cheeks flush pink and he swallows hard. It worked.

It doesn't take long for you to go over the test questions. Eddie’s picked up more than he’d thought from the parts of your sessions where you’d actually studied, and he flies through most of it, only getting stuck on a couple of gnarly chemistry formulae. What’s more, he actually looks like he’s having fun, gaining genuine satisfaction from answering your questions correctly and beaming as you let him know,

“That’s it, Eddie! You’ve got it!”

You can’t tell whether it’s the academic achievement, or the broad smiles and encouragement that you’re giving him, that’s his biggest driver, but at this point you’ll take either as a win.

You've gradually started sitting closer as the session has gone on. You’ve scootched to the edges of your seats, and your elbows and knees are gently knocking together. You can feel Eddie’s breath on your cheek as he jabs at his test total on your pad, screwing up his face and making a fist with his other hand in triumph. You’re genuinely thrilled for him, and not just because the very idea that you could be the reason for those gorgeous dimples popping makes your tummy flip.

Checking your watch, you realise you have a few minutes left before you have to leave, and there’s another new ‘skill’ that you’ve been thinking about trying with him.

Once all your supplies are back in your bag, you check the time again before asking,

“Eddie, would you like to try another quick practical session?”

He looks around the room, eyebrows disappearing into his bangs.

“What, here? Now?”

“Yes, but not like our, um, previous sessions. Something less… involved.”

“Okay, but what is it?”

“Eddie, I hope you don’t mind me asking you this, but have you ever kissed anyone?”

He looks a little abashed as he answers,

“Umm, does kissing your relatives on the cheek count?”

You can’t help smiling at his cute admission.

“For the purposes of this discussion, I’m gonna say no.”

He looks self-conscious, maybe even a little ashamed. Staring at the edge of the table, he clears his throat before replying,

“Then, uh, no.”

Not wanting him to feel uncomfortable, you reassure him,

“That’s okay, Eddie. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

After a beat, you continue,

“Would you like to try it? With me?”

“What?”

“Would you like for us to kiss, Eddie?”

His eyes become locked on your mouth. He swallows audibly, eyes shining with want.

“Umm, yeah. Yes. Yes, I absolutely would, Princess.”

“Just so I know how far you want to go, would you like us to… French kiss?“

“You mean… W- with, y’know, tongue?”

“Yes, Eddie. That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Are you okay with that? I mean, you don’t have to…”

Shaking your head a little, you reassure him,

“I’m the one who suggested it, Eddie!”

He looks down at his hands, now clasped again as he rubs his thumbs together.

“Only if you’re sure. I might be awful at it.”

“Well, that’s why we practice, right? So, first of all, we need to get a little closer…”

You turn your seat so you’re facing him directly, encouraging him to do the same. You pull your seat forwards, slotting your knees between his. You see his eyes scanning your face, and his fingers fidget, suggesting he’s not really sure what to do with them.

“You can rest your hands on my legs if you’d like, Eddie.”

He does so, but not without a little trepidation, and you see him swallow again.

“Just relax. I’m not gonna bite you. Not this time, anyway.”

You give him what you hope is a cheeky smirk. He smiles shyly, not sure where to look when you’re this close to him. Nervously, he licks his lips. The sight makes your thighs clench.

“Close your eyes and relax, Eddie. I’m gonna start with a quick peck.”

“O- okaaaay.”

He does as you ask, and you spend a few moments appraising him before you lean into his space. He looks angelic, his wild curls framing his pretty face and his rosy pink lips looking soft and inviting.

You turn your head slightly so your nose will slide past his, close your eyes, and ever so slowly connect your lips with his. Pursing them a little, you press forwards, and you hear a slight intake of breath.

You said it was going to be quick, but you’re enjoying the feeling so much you relish in it for a few moments. Eddie’s lips are plump, warm, and just a little moist from where he’s licked them. A tiny amount of stubble tickles your top lip. He smells of old leather, some kind of spicy cologne and vanilla chapstick, with a hint of cigarettes and weed. It’s a heady scent you could easily get lost in.

Gathering yourself, you pull back, rolling your lips inwards to taste him.

Eddie still has his eyes closed. If you’re honest he looks like he’s about to faint. Even after all you’ve done together you’re still a little nervous, and you’re suddenly mortified that he found it repulsive.

You did remember to brush your teeth this morning, didn’t you? Did you eat garlic last night and forget? Do you have spinach in your teeth, even though you definitely haven’t eaten spinach in weeks??

“H- how was that, Eddie? Did you like it?”

Suddenly, his eyes pop open. His lips part a little and he nods his head quickly, causing his chestnut locks to bounce around his face. He stares at you for a few more moments before he manages to say in a tiny, cracking voice,

“More? Please?”

You smile widely, and lean in again.

This time you move a little, pursing and softening your lips, changing their position slightly to find out what he likes, slotting them in different places.

To your surprise, this time Eddie starts to kiss you back. His plump lips press against yours and the tiniest moan emanates from his chest. He’s tentative at first, but as he gains in confidence he presses a little harder, and moves a little more.

Your lips move in sync as you rhythmically purse and relax them.

Eddie exhales heavily, and more than a little shakily, through his nose, and you feel his warm breath dance across your face and décolletage.

You part from him with a subtle wet smack.

He swallows thickly, and the grip on your knees strengthens.

You smile at him again, and his eyes flick between yours as he mirrors your expression.

“Okay Eddie, if you’re ready, this time I’m gonna use my tongue. You don’t have to do anything, but if you want to, just do what feels good. Alright?”

Eddie gives you another tiny, fast nod, and you feel him squeeze your knees again.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready…”

He surprises you again as he shifts his hands slightly and slides them up your thighs, leaning into your space a little further. They feel warm, strong, and you can’t help but imagine how they might feel elsewhere.

What would it be like to hold his hand properly? Would his hand feel warm as it cupped your face? Would you be able to feel his rings? How would his calloused fingers feel running up your back, or across your…?

You’re broken from your thoughts as he closes his eyes again, a slight curl to his lips as he lets you know he’s ready.

You lean into his space again, and connect your lips as before. This time, you part your lips slightly and allow the tip of your tongue to poke out, and ever so gently brush across his lower lip. You hear that sharp intake of breath again as he stills, unsure of what he’s supposed to do, but then he parts his lips ever so slightly, and you slide your tongue past his lips and pearly teeth and into his mouth. You move it slowly, enjoying the feeling of his lips against it, the scrape of his teeth, the softness of his tongue beneath yours.

He moans again, and just as your tongue curls up to tickle the roof of his mouth suddenly his tongue is moving against yours, slowly, reverently, experimentally, and another moan leaves his chest.

His grip on your thighs tightens as he gets bolder, eventually pushing his tongue past your lips and into your mouth.

Abruptly, he turns his head slightly and pushes in more deeply, his tongue almost filling you. He’s insistent yet gentle, and now it’s your turn to gasp - he’s good at this - and a low whine leaves you.

You feel a chill on your legs as Eddie’s hands leave them, and you’re momentarily disappointed, but this rapidly turns into delighted surprise when one comes up to cup the back of your neck, the other grabbing the edge of your chair and pulling you closer towards him. He’s moaning continually now, turning his head to try different angles, licking and curling and sucking like you’re the very air he needs to breathe.

He’s pushing hard but not too hard, and when your teeth knock it’s adorable rather than uncomfortable.

It’s wet and messy, and oh, so fucking hot.

Your hands start travelling almost of their own accord, slipping up inside his jacket, sliding around his rib cage and settling on his surprisingly muscular back.

His hand travels up to your hair, mussing it, and you’re making his shirt ride up, but you couldn’t care less, lost in the sensations of your lips melding and tongues dancing.

There’s a pulsing heat in your core, and a wetness building in your underwear. You don’t think you've ever been this turned on just from kissing.

And how on Earth is Eddie so good at it?

You eventually both pull back, needing air, breathy and inhaling deeply.

Your eyes dance around his face, wanting to take it all in. His plump, kiss-bitten lips, his blown pupils, the way he’s looking at you with a stunned half-smile.

Needing a break from the intensity, you drop your eyes. But almost wish you hadn’t when you spot the obvious bulge in the front of Eddie’s pants.

He’s clearly enjoyed this as much as you have.

Just as you’re both leaning forward for another round, lips just brushing, the harsh and loud ringing of the school bell indicates the start of afternoon classes.

You and Eddie break apart with a start, exchanging breathy smiles, both a little surprised at how well that went.

He chuckles as he lets go of your hair, tidying it as best he can, and you pull down the hem of his shirt to straighten it.

”So, uh, I think I’d consider that lesson a success. Wouldn’t you, Mr Munson?”

He huffs out a little giggle, shaking his head slowly. His brow furrows and he fixes his face into as serious an expression as he can manage, as he dips his chin and replies,

“Oh, Princess, that feels like a great start. But you know, lessons work with me. So, just to be on the safe side, I think I might need a whole lot, lot more practice...”

He’s holding your gaze and nodding, raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips for emphasis.

You nearly snort at his brazenness, constantly amazed at how he so easily flips between abject fear and bolshy confidence, and manage to squeak out,

“Well, we’ll just have to see what we can arrange, won’t we?”

He grins at you again, those dimples even deeper this time, and tidies one more strand of hair at your temple.

Reluctantly, you both gather your things and leave the study room, still with shiny lips and heat in your cheeks.

You walk leisurely, your upper arms brushing, through the racks of dusty tomes. Neither of you is in any particular hurry to get to your next class.

You glance to your side, and notice that Eddie seems bigger, taller. He’s puffing his chest and is carrying himself a little differently. You like it.

He turns to you as he asks, “D’you think we should, y’know, leave separately or whatever?”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Awkward questions, and all that.”

You see Eddie’s eyes glance to the floor, then flit to the section containing the large encyclopaedias and dictionaries, before he adds,

“You know what, you go first. There’s something I want to check out in the reference section anyway…”

He flashes you a wink as you round the door jamb, causing something to revolve in your chest as you step out into the corridor. You definitely want to offer Eddie plenty of opportunities to practice this particular new skill.

As you head off to your next class, you wonder what on earth he could be up to. But more than that, you wonder how he’ll react to what you have in mind for your next study session…

Series masterlist

Prev: Lesson 1: Female anatomy | Lesson 2: Male Anatomy | Extra Credits 01: Communication Skills Next: Independent Study 01: Art | Independent Study 02: Creative Writing

Thanks so much for reading!

Remember, writers thrive on your comments and reblogs, so if you liked this little extra please show some love 💕

A/N 2: I added this as an extra because I wanted Eddie and reader to share a special first kiss, but couldn’t work out how to fit it into the main Lessons without making them ridiculously long. I hope you like it!

The taglist for this series is open whilst it’s ongoing, and I have a general one now too - just let me know if you’d like to join either 😀 My masterlist, where you’ll find more Eddie and Steddie fics

Taglist (open whilst this series is ongoing): @airen256 @bimbobaggins69 @urlbitchin @jamdoughnutmagician @rustboxstarr @bl4ckt00thgr1n @bexreadstoomuch @cozmiccass @sadlittlesquish @yujyujj @cluz1babe @thunderg @aysheashea @paleidiot @cadence73 @eddie-munsons-wifey @siriuslysmoking @neville-is-my-husband @aestheticaltcow @jjmaybankswifes-blog @lightcommastix @ungracefularchimedes @spenciesprincess @joejoequinnquinn @freshoutthewomb2 @sunshinepeachx @tlclick73 @hellfirenacht @yourdailymemedelivery @wendyxox @madaboutmunson @80s-addict @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @eddiesxangel @bunny7232 @starksbabie

[bonebrokebuddy]

@kodedgeekthings eyo you mentioned wanting a dpxdc prompt for Howard, Batman’s mechanic!

Harold misses fixing toys for kids and in his off hours has taken up the habit of answering questions on forums about machining, electrical, engineering, mechanics, and mechanical design that are often frequented by students.

One day, he comes across a request by a college student who is trying to assemble his own car out of scrap he bought from a local wrecking yard.

Ghostly_Boy states that he has previous experience in machining and can make replacements for broken or too-damaged parts if need be, but he doesn’t know where to start and what specific requirements he needs to reach to ensure it’s street legal.

Harold willing to help, he answers a few of Ghostly Boy’s clarifying questions:

- Great questions!

It’s good to note that if you’re not careful, fixing or making your own car from parts can be a moneysink and can cost you more than a brand new vehicle. - That being said, your first major step to ensuring you can drive the car is to get the title of the body/frame of the car you plan to build. It’ll have the VIN on a plate welded to the frame usually near the lower edge of the windshield wipers on the drivers side. It’s how the DMV identifies vehicles for licensing.

- Generally, you’ll at first get a “wreck out” title that shows the vehicle is listed as a total loss, but if you can assemble the parts for the car with that frame, the DMV can check if it’s properly running and road worthy & license for you to use it on public roads if you’ve done the proper paperwork.

- Once that is done, it’s largely a case of getting the right parts and assembling them. Depending on how much you have to repair, you could be taking on a task that could give a challenge to even a seasoned mechanic. There may be additional paperwork depending on what exactly you need to repair, like the breaks, lights, steering, etc.

- If you want to build the car entirely from scratch, chassis and all, that’s an entirely different story with a much more complicated list of requirements to make it street legal, so getting a frame from a junkyard is a great first step!

- Make sure to keep all bills of sale, junkyard receipts, invoices and manufacturers’ certificates on any major parts you used in building the vehicle to prove its road worthy to the DMV when it’s complete!

Harold doesn’t always answer first but over time he’s found the adventures of this kid amusing and keeps up with it.

Ghostly_Boy keeps the forum updated with his progress:

The kid spontaneously deciding to scrap the wiring system and make his own in a span of 3 days, leaving experienced mechanics on the forum practically screaming at the kid for his updates showing him using random wires he salvaged and pigtailing them together to get the length of wire he needed.

Mixing not only multiple types of wires but ones that didn’t have the protection needed for auto use. DIY-ing his own relay and fuses he didn’t have and connecting the wrong grounds and switches. And planning on leaving the wires unwrapped and loose.

Leaving Ghost to promptly redo the wiring, correctly this time, within 78 hours.

Making a repair of a massive rusted hole on the passenger side by the bumper and the front tire via cutting 1/2in past the rust, grinding it pretty and clean, tac & seam welding the vintage aluminum housing material of a toaster to cover the hole to the response of Harold and many others in the forum just going “… I guess that would work?”

Harold and many others telling the kid that this “ectoplasm” material wasn’t cleared through the EPA’s Clear Air Act and could be illegal to drive with it as it’s fuel source unless he got the emissions tested & the center of gravity of the car adjusted to have the center of gravity a gas car has, it wouldn’t pass Federal Motor Vehicle Safety Standards. Nor would the previously untested on material make it easy or quick to get an Emissions testing certificate. Best to just stick with gas.

Removing what he thought was a “skid plate” that turned out to be another rusted out section on the frame on the bottom of his car and repairing it with steel he salvaged from an old medical table he had laying around. (To the multiple slightly confused commenters asking how Ghost had a spare medical table, he replied, “eh, my folks visit every so often and they’ve been giving me things they’re clearing out of the house so they can move closer to my older sister. I just so happened to get the ye olde medical table. They’re an odd couple of folks but that’s why I love them.”)

People just crying at the kid to go to rockauto.com and just buy the damn parts he needs for his car. (A good resource btw)

The kid kept cutting corners to save cash but through the badgering of Harold and many others that he actually would have to spend money to make this car be safe to drive in, he finally got it completed.

Ghost’s post of him leaving DMV waving the updated title to the car in its envelope in the air, titled, “THE DMV FINALLY SAID IT WASN’T A FIRE HAZARD! ONLY TOOK 2 YEARS! THANKS EVERYONE!” Got the most amount of responses he’d ever had with congratulations from lurkers and previous commenters.

Over the course of those two years, Danny learned how to draw his own wiring diagrams, properly solder and weld, and learning to actually plan out his projects so he got it right at least the fifth time instead of the 20th. Not bad for a kid that went straight from graduating high school with a 1.5GPA to construction jobs.

But after finally getting the car approved, Ghostly_Boy returns to the forum with a new problem. Lamenting that his parents keep coming over and “modifying” his car to no longer make it street legal.

At this point, about half of the answers to the submission think it’s either a joke project taken very, very seriously with a good chunk of money behind it, or a kid with parents that have narrowly avoided falling completely down the mad scientist rogue rabbit hole.

After all, what sort of parent would think that the DMV would approve to “anti-ghost missiles” being attached to the outer body of the car? Either way, the submissions always had video attached showing a demonstration, proving that Ghost wasn’t just completely yanking their chain. And a good amount of money would have to be sunken in to not only pay for the fines Ghostly continued to get from the additions to his car, but to actually manufacture and make a unique working product for each plea for help request.

Harold is not only taking notes on some of these defense measures but also decides to bring up the boy to Alfred. Intrigued, they together keep an eye on Ghostly_Boy. Bruce may be their employer, but they can handle a case or two on their own.

- I wanted Danny to try to make smth for himself now that he doesn’t have access to his parent’s lab anymore but he also doesn’t have access to ectoplasm so he’s fairly unfamiliar how to wire things Not for ectoplasmic standards.

Also I wanted to make a prompt where Danny had a good relationship with his parents & went into a fairly realistic job after high school with his fairly bad GPA so he’s saving up for a technical school via construction jobs as he doesn’t like the idea of working fast food for understandable reasons.

[hehetmongi]

fever pitch - (kang yeosang/reader)

summary: you're on your period; yeosang comes home early to help you out. also cross posted to ao3

pairing: kang yeosang x reader

tags: alternate universe - modern setting, established relationship, domestic fluff, fluff and smut, menstrual sex, vaginal fingering, shower sex, hurt/comfort, reader uses she/her pronouns, 18+ mdni

word count: 4.1k

note: cis woman reader. centers heavily on menstruation and there's a bit of unsanitary-ness (reader bleeds on the sheets accidentally) so please don't read if it makes you uncomfortable!

due to tumblr's formatting, yeosang's texts are in bold and reader's texts are italicized. if this is difficult for you to read, i highly encourage checking out the ao3 link instead!

You wake to an ache between your legs, and not in a fun way. 

You groan as you sit up, the sensations coming in faster and sharper than you anticipate. Your head pounds, your feet feel numb, but the worst of it is your abdomen. The cramping, the exhaustion, the vague feeling like you’ve wet yourself, or something — yeah, you’ve been through this enough times to know this is your period hitting you like a truck. 

You can already tell it’ll be a painful one. You’re not exactly regular, and when your period does come in, you’re usually out of it for a few days due to the pain. It’s always been this way, and you can manage fine on your own, but you have to admit that you’d really like Yeosang’s company.  

With a glance at the alarm clock — reading 8:42am, from where you can see it over Yeosang’s empty side of the bed — you trudge out of Yeosang’s room. You brace an arm against the wall as you make your way to the bathroom, narrowly dodging Wooyoung’s hip-check as he passes you in the hallway. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” 

You glare daggers at him. When he catches your eyes, he staggers a few exaggerated steps back. 

“Geez, you look pissed. ” 

You ignore him, deciding he’s not even worth the energy. It takes considerable effort to clean yourself up and into a fresh new pad, but thankfully you didn’t get any blood on your shorts. You take a quick painkiller before heading straight back to bed. You have the day off, but it’s not as though you’re going to spend it relaxing. 

You clutch a plushie — a Doberman toy Yeosang gifted you on your third date — toward your abdomen. It’s nice to have something to grasp onto and that reminds you of him, you think, as you roll over to the nightstand by Yeosang’s side of the bed. You grab your phone, quickly glancing at the notifications you haven’t read. You gloss over the emails (mostly ads and a couple of work emails you won’t actually open until you’re on the clock) and smile at your iMessages. 

MESSAGES - 45m 

yeosang <3 

Miss you so much 🥺

MESSAGES - 2h 

yeosang <3

Let me know when you wake up! 

MESSAGES - 2h 

yeosang <3

Good morning 🥰

Your heart swells with warmth. Your relationship with Yeosang is still somewhat new, but every day he reminds you that this is real, and you are incredibly lucky to have someone as kind and loving as him as a partner. So far, your lives seem to slot together perfectly — cute dates, spending the night at each other's apartments, soft touches and meaningful conversations — he was everything you dreamed of, and more. It almost seems too good to be true. 

(Admittedly, part of you is waiting for the ball to drop. A relationship this happy has to change eventually. And since Yeosang is such a perfect partner, you suspect you’ll probably be the cause.) 

You roll onto your back, tapping a quick message in response. You don’t want him to get too worried, but you figure you should say something so he knows you won’t be responding to any future messages right away. 

good morning! 💛💖 sorry i’m late baby!

just got my period :( i feel gross and really tired

You blush a little at your use of a pet name. You know he likes it, but you’re still not sure if it sounds right. You want him to feel as endeared as you do when he uses pet names for you. 

His reply comes less than a minute later. 

There you are!! Good morning, my dear 🥰

No worries. Please take it easy today. I’ll be thinking of you~ 

Something in your stomach flips, but you’re not sure if it’s from your period or if that’s the effect Yeosang has on you. You settle on it being a little bit of both as you start to type your reply. 

i love you 🫶

wish you were here!

Ah, do you want me to come home early and take care of you? 

I’d be happy to do that ^_^ 

nono i’ll be fine!! promise!!

please don’t worry about me i swear i’m fine :’)

I’ll come home in a heartbeat. Just say the word 

You clutch your plushie close to your chest. Having Yeosang take care of you would be a really lovely way to spend the day. Much better than staying holed up in Yeosang’s room, clutching your stomach as you hear Wooyoung fumbling around in the kitchen, at least. But you know Yeosang is working hard, and you really don’t want to take him from that. 

I have to go :( send me updates? I want to hear how your day is going

You can let Wooyoung know if you need help too. He’s good with this type of thing. 

You scrunch your nose. While you like Wooyoung fine, and he’s pretty good at giving you and Yeosang privacy when you need it, you’re not exactly comfortable asking him for help with something like cramps. It feels… personal, and incredibly burdensome. And if you’re already hesitating to ask Yeosang for that kind of help, what business do you have asking his roommate? 

Just then, a knock sounds at the door. It opens a crack before you hear Wooyoung call your name aloud, and you grunt in response. Wooyoung must take it as an affirmative, because he opens it wide. 

“Yeosang said you’re not feeling well,” he announces, glancing down at his phone, “and that I should keep an eye on you until he’s home.”

You frown. “Um, thank you, but I don’t really need help.” 

Wooyoung raises an eyebrow. 

You try to step out of bed, but a knife twists in your gut and pins and needles twist all along your legs. The sensation makes you wince, sucking in a large gulp of air. 

Wooyoung rushes to your side, taking your arm to steady you. When he hears your stuttering breath, he shakes his head. “Don’t… do that. Just stay in bed. I’ll cook you something.” 

You blanch. “You really don’t have—”

“Shut up,” he says, eyes softening when he meets your gaze. You wonder what you must look like, to him. “Er… just, sit and relax for a sec. I insist.” 

You really do try to relax, once he leaves. You scroll through social media as Wooyoung whips up something simple. You shoot Yeosang a quick Wooyoung’s making me breakfast! ❣️ as you wait, to which you receive a bunch of silly looking stickers in return. 

“It’s not contagious, is it?” Wooyoung asks a few moments later, carrying a delicious-smelling tray toward your bed. 

You realize, then, that Yeosang must have been pretty discreet about what was ailing you in his conversation with Wooyoung. The thought of period cramps being contagious makes you suck in a giggle. 

“I really hope not,” you scoff, and when Wooyoung furrows his brow, you explain, “it’s just cramps. I get them really bad.” 

Wooyoung’s eyes widen a little. He sets the tray down next to you, and you take it in earnest. It’s a simple meal, just soup and rice and eggs, but somehow it smells amazing. “They’re bad enough that you can’t walk ?” 

“It’s like that for a lot of people,” you explain. 

Wooyoung only hums, taking a seat in Yeosang’s desk chair and swiveling it around and around. Apparently he's here to stay. 

You take a few bites of your meal, letting your mind wander a little. You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve spent the night at Yeosang’s place, but you still feel kind of awkward here when it’s just you and Wooyoung. You know they’ve known each other for years — much longer than you’ve known Yeosang — and the thought intimidates you. How many of Yeosang’s partners has Wooyoung known? How many crushes and hookups? Does Yeosang tell Wooyoung things about your relationship that you’re not privy to? 

“He’s blowing up my phone, you know,” Wooyoung says suddenly. He turns his phone screen around, and sure enough, you see at least half a dozen messages from Yeosang loaded on his lockscreen. You can’t read them from here, but you can guess that they're about you. 

“He doesn’t want me to show you,” Wooyoung continues, “but he’s really concerned. He cares about you a lot.”

You feel yourself flush. This shouldn’t surprise you, not when you’ve been seeing each other for three months already, but something about the earnestness of it all still makes you feel weak in the knees. 

You opt not to respond to Wooyoung, focusing on your plate instead. You finish it dutifully, and Wooyoung is by your side in an instant, taking the tray in his hands before moving to leave Yeosang’s room. 

“Thank you so much for cooking,” you tell him as he starts to walk away. "You really didn't have to."

“Mmhmm. You’re someone special to him, so,” Wooyoung mutters, just before he exits. You’re left wondering what he could possibly mean by that until sleep finds you again. 

When you wake, it’s still morning. Abdominal pain slices you deeper, twisting into an amorphous form, vicious and unrelenting.

You shift, letting out an involuntary whine when you feel something damp pooling beneath you. Sure enough, there is a dark red puddle between your legs, staining Yeosang’s bed sheets. All at once, your body begins to shut down as the pain coils tighter and tighter, leaving you little room to breathe. 

You let out a sob. It’s been a long, long time since your cramps have given you this much trouble. Of course it had to happen while you were alone at Yeosang’s apartment. You can already feel the shame and disgust twisting alongside the horrible feeling in your gut. 

In a flash, Wooyoung is at the door, footsteps thundering down the hallway. His eyes are wide as saucers as he takes in your slumped form. He rushes to you, and you feel his hands on your shoulders, but your perception of things fades in and out. All you can think of is the sheets, the pool of blood still under your body, how fucking ashamed you are to make a mess of things, that you couldn’t take care of yourself better on your own—

Wooyoung shakes your arm hard, cutting through your panic like a blade. 

“Do you need to go to the hospital!?”  he shouts, crisp alertness palpable in his bright eyes. 

Your breath catches in your throat. “I, um, I don’t think—?”

“Like hell you don’t,” he scowls, grabbing his phone and starting to type out a text. You grab at his wrist, and he gives you a sharp, incredulous look. 

“I’m fine, really,” you promise, doing your best to suppress your wince. “But…”

“But what, you’re clearly in pain!” 

You let out a shaky breath. The words are tumbling out of your mouth before you can really think them over. 

“Could you, maybe, ask for Yeosang to come home?” You suck in a breath, knowing that it’ll be hard to be so vulnerable in front of him but you don’t care — you need his comfort. “I know he’s busy at practice but I… really need him right now. Please.” 

At that, Wooyoung seems to soften, pulling his hand softly from your grip. He nods, opening his phone and pulling up Yeosang’s contact. He dials Yeosang’s number, then puts his phone between his ear and his shoulder when Yeosang picks up on the first ring. 

“How soon can you be back at the apartment?” Wooyoung asks. His tone seems firm, you think, but you wonder if there’s something else in it Yeosang can hear from him that you can’t. “Yeah, she’s in a lot of pain. I think she had a panic attack, too. Keeps asking for you.” 

Wooyoung’s eyes flit over to yours. “He wants to talk to you,” he says, so you nod and take the phone. 

“H-hi...” 

“Baby,” Yeosang gasps, tight with concern. 

Instantly, your eyes well with tears. You miss him. It’s only been a few hours since you were sleeping in his arms, even sooner since you’ve exchanged texts, but you can feel the ache deep in your chest all the same. 

“Shhhh,” he coos, gentle as ever. “I’ll be home in fifteen. Will you be okay?” 

You take in a small, hiccupping breath. “I… think so.” 

“Good girl,” he says, and your heart flutters. You can hear something clicking in the background. “Do you want me to stay on the line until I’m back?” 

“Please.”

“It’ll be okay ,” he promises, then breathes out your name in a way that makes your head tingle pleasantly. “Take some deep breaths with me. Can you do that, sweetheart?" 

You shake your head. “I ruined your sheets,” you tell him, your voice wobbling. “I’m so, so sorry, Yeo, but there’s so much blood, I don’t think it’ll come out—”

“Y/n,” he says, stern, halting your ramble in its tracks. "It’s fine, I promise. They can be replaced.” 

“I just…” you shift, wincing again at the puddle between your thighs. “It feels so gross. I’m disgusting.” 

“You’re not,” he assures you. “It’s a perfectly normal thing your body does. You just need to be taken care of.” You don’t agree with him — this is the most disgusting you’ve ever felt in ages — but your heart melts all the same.

You hadn’t noticed Wooyoung slipping out of the room, but he returns carrying a couple of towels that he puts down next to you. You scooch and roll over onto them, a little relieved to not be bleeding directly on the bed anymore. Wooyoung hovers by the door as Yeosang leads you through some deep breathing exercises over the phone. It takes a few minutes, but your heart rate is gradually slowing down.

"I’ll be right there, dear,” Yeosang tells you, your heart finally steady after what has to have been at least twenty rounds of box breathing. You hear his key twisting in the key hole a few moments later and then he’s bursting past Wooyoung and into his room, taking in the sight of you and enveloping you into his strong arms.

You think, though you’re too shy to admit it out loud, that he looks really handsome like this. Sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, dark hair swept back, his full attention on you. You feel your cheeks go pink as he tucks you into his sturdy chest. 

He presses a kiss to your temple and just like that, your heart is racing again. 

“My strong, beautiful girlfriend,” he murmurs. The sound of his deep voice so close to your ear makes you shudder. “So patient for me. Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

He sweeps one arm underneath your legs and you hesitantly circle your arms around his neck, trying your best to avoid your middle touching him too closely. 

“Don’t wanna get blood on you,” you mumble into his shoulder. 

“Don’t care,” he hums, kissing the tip of your nose, and you allow yourself to believe him.

In moments, Yeosang has you sitting on a stool in the shower. Your bloody shorts have been discarded into the sink, along with the tank top you slept in. Ordinarily, you might’ve felt uncomfortable being so exposed and vulnerable in front of him while you’re not feeling 100%,  but now, you just feel content. 

When Yeosang pulls off his shirt and pants, leaving him only in a pair of black boxer briefs, you feel something thrum beneath your fingertips. Even after a handful of intimate nights together, you’re still surprised by his boldness, the way that he holds himself so confidently behind closed doors, just for you to see. You feel shy when Yeosang steps into the shower behind you, closing the curtain. 

If the dried blood between your legs bothers Yeosang, he shows no indication. He just smiles at you warmly as he gets the water running, gently massaging your upper arms to keep you comfortable. Once the water gets warm enough, he sets you under the stream. The warm water feels delightful on your back, even more so when Yeosang runs a loofa under it and washes your body. 

“You really don't have to do all of this,” you tell him, but one of his hands finds your elbow and stops you in your tracks. 

“Let me help you,” Yeosang whispers, “please.”

You swallow. There’s something wanting in his eyes that you can’t quite put into words. 

The loofa hesitantly brushes against the top of your knee, and you let go. 

His touch, solid but gentle, finds you in your most tender spots. His fingers start at your thighs, scrubbing gently at the dried blood. Each time he touches you there is a question in his eyes, an is this okay? that you meet with unhesitant permission. 

When his fingers brush the top of your stomach, inching nearer and nearer to your tender breasts, you gasp.  

“Sorry,” he giggles, but you hold his hand against the swell of your breast, keeping him there. His slender fingers knead at them softly, leaning down to kiss you. It’s all lips and tongue, sensual and fluid, and when he sucks on your tongue it pulls a needy, involuntary noise from the back of your throat. 

Yeosang is good at kissing. It almost embarrasses you when your toes curl from just a few seconds of making out — from experience, you know he’s barely even getting started — but you know how much he likes it when you’re vocal about how much you appreciate him. 

“Yeosang,” you gasp, hoping even a fraction of what you feel gets expressed through your tone. 

“Sorry,” he smiles against your lips. “Looks like I got a little carried away…” 

You try not to feel disappointed when his focus returns back to washing your body. His hands are careful and practiced, putting firm pressure in all of the areas you need washed most. You sigh at the intimacy of it all, but your mind is still elsewhere. 

“Something on your mind?” he asks a few moments later, and you shrug. 

“I’m just so happy to have a boyfriend that’ll do this for me,” you gesture vaguely at yourself, “even when I’m all disgusting like this.” 

You mean it as a joke, sort of, but you can tell he notices something in your words. His hand stills from where it’s been stroking your hip. 

“You think you’re disgusting?” he frowns. He searches your eyes for a moment, and then he’s dropping to his knees in between your open legs. 

On impulse, you close them. 

“Yeosang,” you warn, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We can’t.” 

“Why not? Because it’s dirty?” He presses a kiss to the side of your knee, sending chills down your spine. “Baby, I won’t push you, but if you’re worried about me… it’s not like I care about a little blood on my fingers.” 

Your eyes widen. Your throat suddenly feels very, very dry. 

“I want you to feel cherished,” he whispers into a stretch mark on your thigh, gentle fingers inching closer to your core. “But only if you’ll let me.” 

Somewhere in you, the tide shifts. You feel so, so stupid for not remembering it sooner. The love he feels for you is real , even if it’s incomprehensible to you. The realization churns something deep in your gut, stoking the flames from a few moments ago. 

“So,” he whispers, soft lips into your wet skin, “what will it be?” 

You want him bad, period cramps be damned. 

“Please,” you whine, and then he’s surging forward in another kiss. 

The kiss is softer this time, almost chaste, making good on his promise to cherish you. His hands, though, are roaming your body in earnest, settling to draw comforting circles against your waist. 

He pulls away from the kiss. “Tell me how you want me, baby.” 

You shudder at the loss of contact. As much as you want all of him, having sex on your period is new territory for you. And he mentioned not minding blood on his fingers, so… 

“Just your fingers,” you tell him. Then, sheepishly, you add: “I love your hands…” 

Pleased with your directness, Yeosang kisses the tip of your nose, soft and innocent, before moving his lips down the expanse of your body. You grip lightly at the base of his head when his tongue twists around your nipple. He replaces it with his fingers as he dips deeper, pressing heated kisses down your tummy, to your pubic bone, until finally he’s at the apex of your thighs. 

“Love this pussy so much,” he murmurs into the plush of your thigh. When his fingers find your clit, rubbing against it gently, your eyes roll back. “So beautiful, so perfect. Made for me.” 

“Yeosang,” you gasp, but it quickly turns into a moan as his fingers find a quicker, pulsing rhythm. 

Your body contorts to meet his fingers, but he moves a steadying hand to your hip. His strength, his unabashed adoration of your body, the practiced ministrations against your core — it’s all so incredibly hot that your brain simply can’t keep up. 

“Mmm?” he intones, pressing a light kiss dangerously close to your slit that has you keening. “Did you need something, baby?” 

“Close,” you admit, too engulfed in the pleasure to be embarrassed at how quickly you’ve begun to feel that tight, coiling feeling in your gut. 

Your admission has Yeosang incredibly pleased, a grin stretching across his handsome face. 

“Already, baby?” he asks, and you feel yourself burn up at how unbelievably attracted to him you feel right now. “You poor thing, all pent up like that. Must’ve needed me so badly.” 

You let out a little whine at Yeosang’s words. You really did need him, didn’t you? All of today, it was him you craved. He knows you so well, so intimately… 

“It was a good thing I could come home early, hmm? Take care of you just the way you like.” 

You whine louder when he draws tight, concentrated circles against your clit, his other hand holding you still even as you try to meet his thrusts. 

“Can you come for me, sweetheart? Want to hear your pretty little voice moaning my name.” 

The tension snaps all at once, your orgasm crashing into you with reckless abandon as your body folds into itself. But Yeosang doesn’t stop, just pumps you gently through it as you dutifully let out a cry of his name. 

Moments pass, and you’re still twitching from the aftershocks when Yeosang gets up to turn the water off. He’s covering you with a towel before you can process how cold you are. Once you’re dry and warm, he presses a single kiss on your forehead softly before helping you back onto your feet. 

“That was really nice,” you tell him, a little shy despite yourself. 

He smiles warmly. “I’m glad, baby. I hope you feel a little better.”

“A lot better,” you agree. 

He helps you into a new set of clothes, and you smile as he squeezes lightly at your curves. 

Just as you’re both about to exit, he hums exaggeratedly. “Though you did cum kind of fast, didn’t you?” 

You swat at his shoulder, his laughter ringing in the open air. 

That night finds you in Yeosang’s bed again, this time with fresh sheets. You sit snugly with your back against his chest, his arms enveloping you as you watch a movie on his laptop. 

Every few minutes, he’ll whisper something in your ear. Sometimes it’s affectionate, about how strong he knows you are for him, how proud he is of you. Sometimes it’s a little snide comment about the characters in the film. The intimacy leaves you with a warm, light feeling in your stomach, as if you’re getting butterflies for him all over again. 

At some point, though, the tide shifts back. Your insecurities won’t leave you forever, even with the most loving boyfriend in the world. Your period isn’t making it any easier, either; you’ve always been a hell of a lot more emotional on your heaviest days. 

At the first sign of tears, Yeosang spins you around and embraces you against his soft chest. 

“I stay the night,” you choke out between sobs, “and I ruin your bedsheets. I basically make a murder scene in your bathroom. Your roommate cooks for me and all I do is freak him out and beg him not to take me to the hospital. I made you leave your class early , Yeosang, all I do is—”

“Make my life better,” he finishes, halting your words. You meet his eyes, and they’re brimming with nothing but earnest adoration. “All you’ve done is make my life better, ever since we met.” 

You sniffle. “Even when I’m like this?” 

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to remind you, as often as you need.”

And with a look into his deep, earnest eyes, you decide you can believe him. 

[abbys-wifey]

5 days

pairing: abby anderson x female reader

warnings: my first fic in a little while so…

“It’s not funny Abigail.” My eyes harden, gazing at the woman who holds my heart… and who laughs through her nose as she sits before me, trapping me between her thighs at the edge of our bed. Furrowing my brows in protest does nothing, Abby’s face is still plastered with an amused grin. I glare harder at my girlfriend who scoffs, fingers running up my legs and landing on the backs of my thighs, squeezing gently.

“You’re being dramatic.” She singsongs wiggling her eyebrows just to irritate me. Rolling my eyes I look away, the floor becoming more interesting than Abby’s face.“It’s just a patrol that’s longer than usual because there’s gonna be a storm. I swear I’ll be fine mkay?” Fingers brush against my cheek, capturing my chin and forcing my face back in her direction.

Her cheeky grin had disappeared, instead her eyebrows furrowed not unlike my own. Her now serious persona and soft touch bursts the dam I had been holding back for so long now. “Yeah well what if something happens to you? Like the storm is too noisy and you don’t hear the infected in the building you stay at? And then you get infected and I have to live the rest of my life alone because you were stupid.” Tears well up in my eyes as the scenario plays out in my brain. Abby’s blood splattered against walls, her cries echoing-

“I’m not the best soldier at this camp for nothing ok? Have a little faith in me hmm?” Her soft spoken response interrupts my train of thought. Clenching my jaw I watch as a hint of a smile protrudes from her lips, her large hands tapping at the backs of my thighs. “It’ll only be like 5 days. You’ll live without me for that long won’t you?” She scrunches her nose up almost mocking me. I can’t help but smile sadly.

“I’ll miss you.” I whisper moving my hands across her broad shoulders and down her biceps enjoying the feeling of her muscles contracting beneath my palms. Abby smiles at my reply. Leaning down, I capture her lips in a kiss, my hands crawling up her shoulders and neck to rest on the sides of her face. A few tears fall down my cheeks as I pull away from her resting my forehead on her own.

“You’re such a baby.” Abby whispers lightheartedly, using her thumb to wipe away the stray tears on my face. “Shut up.” I half chuckle half sob, burying my face in her neck. She shifts slightly, her hand coming up to rest on my back before ruining the moment. “I have to go soon babe.” Abby sighs.

I ignore her. If I just keep holding her she can’t leave.

How wrong I was.

She left 4 days ago and I had been a nervous wreck ever since.

“Leah please.” I beg standing before my friend with my hands clasped together. “Just tell me what you know.” I groan changing my tactic and grabbing her shoulders instead, shaking them just enough to rattle her brain.

“I’ve already told you everything I know.” She replies in the same whiny tone I used, slapping my hands off her shoulders and crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m in the same boat dumbass, Jordans out there with her and Manny.” She rolls her eyes with a hint of a smile. I groan again and sit back on the chair in the stadium field. “They’ll be back soon, hopefully tonight.” She adds picking up a ball and throwing it for Bear, her favourite dog, to chase.

A few more hours pass and still no word from Abby and the rest of the patrol unit. Sitting in the cafeteria, I simply poke half heartedly at the green beans on my plate, wishing Abby was here to eat them for me like she always did when I hear the yells of the soldiers outside, signalling a truck coming through the gates.

Jumping up, I discard my tray and rush towards the arena praying that a certain blonde haired woman would meet me there.

Barging through the arena doors my heart skips a beat at seeing Abby hop off the back of the truck, seemingly in ok form.

Rushing past Jordan whose eyes are glued to Leah, and Manny who holds out his arms for a hug about four different women, I launch into my girlfriend who stumbles backwards slightly as she catches my full body weight in her muscular arms. Before she can even open her mouth to speak I press my lips to hers in a bruising kiss that leaves no room for breathing.

I only pull away to get some air back before my lips are on hers again and again and again. Somewhere between the 7th and 10th kiss Abby begins to chuckle trying to pry my face off of hers with little success as I chase her lips again and again and again.

“Baby.” She manages to say causing me to stop my current activities and smile adoringly at her. “I’m expecting that kind of welcome home after every patrol now.” Abby’s blue eyes crinkle at the sides as her nose scrunches with her smile. I shake my head at her. “No, because I forbid you from ever doing that again.” I scoff running my hands up and down her arms. “That was hard.” I add causing Abby’s eyebrows to raise as she puts me down. “Oh I’m sorry, did you fight hordes of infected and a few handfuls of Scars?” She teases poking my chest with a smirk.

Rolling my eyes I glance back at the small crowd gathered to see the units return, my cheeks flushing at the thought of them witnessing my previous acts.

“Let’s go to our room.” I tug at Abby’s hand as she grabs her belongings out the car. “You smell like shit.” I tease. In a flash Abby’s arms wrap around my waist as she lifts me off the floor causing me to let out a squeak, her face nuzzling itself into my neck. “And now you smell like shit too.” Her voice is muffled by my skin.

“Guess we are gonna have to shower together.”

[thatsdemko]

one night with you - p.gasly

masterlist

requested: n

parings: pierre gasly x fem!reader

warnings: one room trope + enemies to friends to lovers(ish)

a/n: inspired by one of my favorite books one night on the island by Josie silvers (book linked if interested)

it’s how every story goes, there’s only one bed, only one seat, only one car, etc. . it’s how every “fairytail” started, and somehow you were living your least favorite trope main characters nightmare.

it all started with renting an Airbnb in Monte Carlo with a couple of friends, and he, of all people, showed up. your friends, and their significant others, had promised he was too busy in Milan to make time for a friendly get away. but there he was with his stupid French accent arms wide open as a surprise.

the second thing to happen was your flight was delayed making you the second to last person to arrive—the last person arriving being him. you were given the shitty bedroom with twin size bunk beds, and to top things off he had to room with you.

“chérie, it’s going to be fun! we can stay up all night and tell ghost stories.” he’s practically giddy to share a room with you because he knows how much you hate him. he loves antagonizing you and he loves watching you squirm around his gaze.

“I think I’m going to vomit.” your words are bitter at the tongue, feeling his hand gently touch your shoulder as he passes by you to head to unload his things in your shared room.

“its just for the night, he leaves tomorrow afternoon. you’ll survive.” your friend gives you a promising smile, but you’re not sure you can trust them. they told you he wouldn’t be joining this trip, and now you have to share a bedroom. who’s to say you’ll actually survive.

—

the nights winding down, almost everyone has already headed to crash to prepare for tomorrow, but you’re trying to deny your fate. you think if you sit out here long enough it’ll all go away. maybe he’ll go away.

you’re watching the orange flames dance around the fire pit, there’s only a couple of pieces of wood left in there, as ashes began to spew into the air. you hear the back door open, and it’s Pierre coming outside with a blanket. you hadn’t realized he had gone in some time ago, you didn’t notice his departure.

“you’re going to freeze if you’re going to stay out here.” he lays the fuzzy material across your lap where goosebumps and chills traveled your body. you’re thankful for his gesture, and it’s probably the first time he will ever hear you say those two words.

“coming to bed soon?” he asks, checking the time on his phone and it’s only just after 1am. usually you were one of the first to head in for the night, he’s surprised you were up this late.

“yeah I think so, you don’t have to wait up.”

“so you’re fine if I take the bottom bunk? my arms are sore from working out.” you can’t tell if he’s being serious, but when you look over he’s got a playful smile on his face. you just roll your eyes in response shooing him away for some more alone time. you were going to need it in order to spend a night in the same room as him.

“don’t be out too late!”

it’s not even ten minutes after he leaves, the fire is just hot coals and you’re left with whatever fate had for you, as you trekked your way up into the house and up into your shitty bedroom.

you gently knock twice before opening the door. you’ve never shared a room with a man before, let alone pierre gasly, so you’re not sure what to expect, but when you do open the door, it’s not what you thought it would be.

pushing open the door carefully, you’re greeted to a dim lamp light, and him sprawled across the top bunk shirtless. his legs hang over the edge while his head rests on the wood ledge of the bunk. he’s definitely too big for the bed which makes you chuckle.

“what’s funny down there?” he peaks his head down, hands gripping the railing, it makes him look like a little kid eager for a bedtime story.

“you in that stupid bunk bed.” you close the door behind you beginning to search your luggage for your pajamas when you notice Pierre’s clothes are scattered next to his bags.

“you couldn’t put your clothes away?” you throw his expensive shirt at him, he catches it and throws it back at you hitting perfectly you in the face.

“you can keep the shirt, it’ll be a souvenir to the best night of your life.” he sends you a wink, and you can feel your blood boiling. you’re not sure what it is about that, but it got you going, he just had that ability to press your buttons without the slightest clue.

“this isn’t funny, pierre! you’re not supposed to even be on this trip! you were supposed to be in Milan being the biggest fucking jerk somewhere else! now you’re here ruining my vacation.” your words vibrated through you, it was almost like you weren’t even speaking they just flew out of you, but it didn’t make you feel better. in fact, it made you feel worse, because there sat a man in his twin bed looking like the most pathetic idiot because of you.

“wow, I didn’t know you felt that way about me.” he swallows, his eyes not meeting yours, you feel bad. there’s something about how he looks that makes you want to rush up to him and apologize, tell him it’s not his fault it’s just that ever since you both met, you hated him.

“yeah, well I know how you feel about me.”

he scoffs shaking his head, “do you? tell me, how do I feel about you.” his finger tips tap the wood while his other hand holds up his chin, he’s waiting for you to spill what you thought you knew.

you sigh, unsure where to begin but somewhere it all starts, “I know that ever since I joined this friend group you’ve hated me from the second because I didn’t want to go skydiving, that I was a wimp for crying because I twisted my ankle hiking, and because I hate your driving!”

he’s laughing, you’re not sure when he started, but he’s pretty much bent over holding his stomach laughing. he couldn’t believe how ridiculous you sounded because none of that was true.

“are you done? because that’s hysterical.” he’s still laughing, but he’s climbing down from the top bunk to where you stood, his dirty t-shirt laying on the floor in front of you, “I don’t hate you. whoever told you that was messing with you.”

you feel stupid and small. he’s hovering over you a goofy grin on his face, “let’s start over, yeah? I’m Pierre and we have to share a bunk bed. you want to be my roommate for the night?” he extends his hand, awaiting for you to accept the fresh new start.

“I’m y/n, I’d like to be your roommate.” you take his big hand in yours and shake. he moves out of the way gesturing to your bed, which happened to be the bottom bunk.

“your bed.” he undoes the covers for you and fluffing the pillows.

“ah thank you, but first I must change.” you turn on your heel grabbing your pajamas. you barely open the bedroom door to see there was already a line for the one bathroom.

“do you mind just turning around so I can change?” you close the door once again, and his back is already facing yours. you slowly begin to take off your clothes afraid at any moment he was going to let his intrusive thoughts take over, and turn around.

“you know, I have seen you naked by accident.” he admits, it was many summers ago, but you were in one of the guest bedrooms of his summer home. he thought Charles was in the bedroom you were in, so when he opened the door, and was greeted to a pair of breasts he was quite surprised.

“we just became friends, pierre.” you challenge hearing him laugh, it was almost like music to your ears now that you didn’t hate him. you actually enjoyed his laugh, it was infectious.

“so you’re saying I shouldn’t turn around?” he fakes you out, your arm quickly covers your chest giving his back a shove. he’s back in a laughing fit that you join now.

“you test me, gasly.” you pull your shirt over your head, moving in front of him to show you are fully dressed and he’s free to go back to his bunk.

“I think you like it.”

you’re blushing, quickly moving to get under the covers of your small bed, “I do not.” you stick out your tongue like a little child and he slaps your arm.

“please you’re practically in love with me now that you stopped hating me.” he’s leaning over your bed, his body practically on top of yours, while his head inches from hitting the panels that hold his bunk up above yours.

you inhale his cologne nervously laughing, because at that moment you felt butterflies in your stomach. not just because you were nervous, but because he was so close. this was the first time you ever saw Pierre as someone other than an enemy.

“I just like you that’s it.” you’re afraid to breathe, it’s like if you did he’d pull his body away from yours, and you didn’t want him to. you wanted him there.

“you sure?” he teases, face moving closer to yours, his chin is resting on your stomach, close to your breasts. his eyes are glowing in the dim light, and you so badly want to get lost in them.

“yeah,” your exhale was supposed to be more of a sigh, but it sounded far more from that, he chuckles moving closer to your face, but then swiftly pulls away.

“goodnight, cherie—“

“kiss me you fool.” you cut him off, legs swinging from under the sheets grabbing his leg pulling trying to pull him down from the ladder before it was too late and he was asleep.

he looks down, a cheeky smile on his face, he’s moving down the ladder. his hand cups your cheek as he bends down, pressing his lips against yours. of all those times you hated his entire existence, you were absolutely wrapped into him. his lips were soft, but firm against yours. it was like melting into heaven, a moan escaped your lips.

“one night with me isn’t so bad, huh?”

“I guess not.”

[chichix]

Chishiya x Fem!reader

Warnings!: AIB S2 Ep8 spoiler!

Summary: After the meteorite hit Tokyo, you were put in a hospital to heal the injuries that had happen. Later, you were capable of doing stuff again. You then saw a man sitting alone outside the hospital.

╔═══════ ೋღ 💉 ღೋ ═══════╗

A usual day for you like always, but this one was quite different. You walked around for awhile and sat on a bench going on your phone, scrolling through social media. You heard people say ‘woah’ and point at the sky. You were confused why everyone was looking up in the sky, you then tilted your head up to see balls of light falling. Your eyes widened, you just thought it’ll pass by and go..but it didn’t. You put your phone back in your pocket and grip onto your bag slightly. All you saw was everyone recording and slightly smiling at the sight. You then saw a couple more of the lights quickly fall down..

It was only seconds until everything exploded. Ash and fire was everywhere, just surrounding everything around the area. You woke up surrounded by smoke and broken parts of buildings, you couldn't hear clearly, only muffles.."Ma'am! Can you hear me?" A faint voice said, "Check her pulse, she could be alive." Another faint voice.."She's alive! Hurry take her!" That was the last thing you could barely hear.

You had woken up, not knowing where you were. "Where..am I.." You spoken softy. Your parents had gotten up and started to tear up, "(Name).." Your mother spoke with a slight smile. You looked at her, you then looked at the room that you were in. ‘I’m in the hospital..?’ You said to yourself, “What happened?” You said looking at both your parents, your father spoke, “A meteorite had crashed near the area that you were in. Luckily you were found and brought here, but only a few survived..” Your mother touched your hand and nodded at you softly. You thought to yourself for a bit, you noticed your arm was in cast and had bandages wrapped around your stomach. Moments later your parents left, they wished you a good day and hope you’ll recover soon. A doctor had came in and checked you up to make sure you are functioning well. You were looking at yourself wondering if anything worse could’ve happened to you.

A week went by, you were able to walk and do ‘normal’ things again. You walked through the halls of the hospital, looking for a vending machine just to get a snack. You came across one and walked over to it, you put in your quarters and got some cookies. You got your change and walked off somewhere. You decided to go outside and go for a little walk. You walked for awhile eating your cookies slowly, you came across a man sitting on a chair staring off somewhere. You thought he was quite cute so you went over to go talk to him. When you came over to him, he looked at you. “Hmm, yes?” He said with a side smile, your heart skipped a beat after hearing his voice but brushed it off. “Do you mind if I sit here and talk to you?“ You asked softly waiting for his response, his eyebrows went slightly up. “I don’t mind, go ahead and sit.” He replied, you nodded and sat down on the other chair. “May I ask what your name is?” The man said tilting his head a little, “My name is (Name), and yours?” You said, leaning in but not to much to make him uncomfortable. “Chishiya.” He replied also leaning in a little, “Hmm..you want some?” You smiled and offered some of your cookies you got, he looked down at the bag in your hand and back at your eyes. “Sure,” He grabbed one cookie and ate it. You laid the bag on the table giving a hint he can eat them freely without him asking. “These are good.” Chishiya said with crumbs on the side of his mouth, you giggled a little at his face. “What is it?” He said furrowing his eyebrows, you reached your hand to his face and brushed off the crumbs. “Well then, guess you were laughing because I had crumbs on my face.” Chishiya said with a little smile.

{ Time skip }

2 weeks went by, you and Chishiya had gotten close and got to know a lot of things together. You both would always sit at the same chairs everyday in the evening. Chishiya always checked up on you at randoms times, he’d go into your room anytime and sit and talk with you about anything thats going on. You gained high feelings for Chishiya, you loved him so much, and so did he.

You and Chishiya met at the chairs once again to talk, “So, what are you planning on doing after your out of the hospital?” You curiously said with a smile, “Never thought about that, hm..probably continue being a doctor or do whatever. What about you (Name)?” He responded looking straight in your eyes, “Maybe pay a visit to my parents and just live my life like I did before..” You calmly replied, Chishiya bit his lip and held your hands. You looked down and noticed, “What are you doing?” You questionably asked, he kept quiet for a moment and spoke, “Maybe..we can live together and just have a happy life.” He said with a serious but calm tone. Your eyes widened as your cheeks flushed pink just a bit, “Are you asking me to be your..?” You said not finishing your sentence, “Yes, yes I am, so is that a yes or no?” Chishiya said feeling doubtful you might say no, “Yes! I will be your girlfriend, I’ll make you the best man in the world!” You answered very passionately while smiling. “My that was fast.” He replied surprised a bit, you leaned in, he took the hint and leaned in also..you both stared at each other, you both then softly kissed each other. You placed your hand on his jawline while he placed his hand on your cheek. You both pulled away slowly deeply staring at each other..

“I love you..(Name).”

“I love you too..Chishiya.”

╚═══════ ೋღ 💉 ღೋ ═══════╝

[fr3sh-tragedies]

Cup of Tea

[MLP Equestria Girls] Sunset Shimmer x Female Reader

Summary: Sunset is up late at night studying when you come join her with a cup of tea and kisses on the head in hopes she'll have a good night, but you're quick to make sure she gets her rest.

Word Count: 1.28k Content + Warnings: Sunset overworking herself, not eating or sleeping, nearly passing out from exhaustion Category: Fluff || One-shot

[A/N]: This was just a quick drabble, so it's not proofread (like usual lmao), but I did enjoy writing it regardless.

Enjoy!

Gently, amongst the sound of pages flipping and her pencil scribbling, Sunset heard when you softly set something down on the desk beside her. Heavy eyes met yours once she turned, and she smiled instantly once you cupped her face. “Hey,” you whispered. “Hey,” she answered, yawning. You frowned at the sight of her unkempt locks of hair and the heavy bags under her eyes. Your scowl of worry only deepened when her shoulders slumped down tiredly. “How much later do you think you’ll stay up?” You asked quietly, glancing over at the small analog clock on the corner of the desk.

“It’s already four AM.” A small nod was your response before she turned back to her workload scrambled up messily across the desk. Her head turned enough to see what you had put down, curiously glancing back up at you when she saw the small cup. “What’s that?” “It’s just some tea to help you feel a little better. You have been seeming really tired and sick lately.” She hummed, wiping weakly at her heavy eyes before shakily taking hold of the handle of the cup, lifting it and bringing it to her lips for a sip.

You watched for a moment, worry contorting your features when you took notice of the way her hand trembled. “When was the last time you slept or ate?” Now she seemed guilty, her head lowering once she put the cup back down to avoid seeing just how concerned you were for her. It would only make her feel worse. Sighing heavily, you planted your hand on her shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. “You promise me you’ll eat something once you finish this up tonight?” She nodded and motioned towards the paper she was holding. “Yeah, I’ve only got this page and one other left.”

She turned to you then, her hand raising and squeezing the one you still had on her shoulder. “Go ahead and go back to bed,” she whispered. “I’ll be in there soon, I promise.” You smiled down at her, moving to stand behind her chair and wrap your arms lazily over her shoulders, then letting your head drop down far enough to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “I’m going to stay awake just for a little longer with you. I just want to make sure you’re going to be okay.”

“I’m alright, honey, I swear. This should be the last time I have to stay up like this for a while. I just have to finish these last three papers.” You raised a brow. “Three? You just told me you only had two left.” She paused, falling silent. “How many pages do you actually have left?” She hummed, then sighed, and looked around at the disorganized mess in front of her. She plucked a few sheets up and scanned over them. “Five or six, I think. I don’t really know the exact amount, but I know I’m close to being done.”

“How about this,” you started, walking to the side of the desk and picking up a few papers she hadn’t tucked into her hands when she had counted how many were left. “You keep working on that and drinking the tea I got you, and I’ll start organizing some of these so it’ll be easier to deal with tomorrow.” She parted her lips to argue, wanting you to go to bed, but she knew you’d tell her you’d only go to sleep again if she did too. Instead, she let a small sigh slip out before she nodded. “Thank you,” she murmured, turning back to her current paperwork.

As she continued to work on what was left, you skimmed through the random sheets sprawled out in front of you and organized them into their respective categories. Every few minutes, you reminded her to take a drink of the tea by her side. She did as told each time, seemingly relieved each time the warm liquid met her tongue.

Two hours passed by the time she had finally finished both the tea and her work, and you ultimately managed to get everything piled separately. When she glanced over at the clock to check how long she’d be able to sleep, she groaned and moved to rest her head against the desk. At the feeling of your hands sliding up and down her back before gently massaging her shoulders, she sighed and weakly sat back up. “Guess I’m not getting any sleep tonight after all.”

You frowned, leaning down and pecking her temple. “Well, you said this is the last time for a while that you’ll have to stay up like this, right?” “Yeah.” “Then just do your best to get through the day, and I’ll make sure you can sleep as long as you need to. I’ll even call your boss to make sure they don’t bother you tomorrow, alright?” Chuckling, she nodded, leaning her head back to rest against your chest. “A day off sounds amazing right now.”

For a moment, you stayed silent. Her eyes were closed, every part of her too tired to notice the lack of a response from you. “Could you take the day off today after you drop off all the paperwork?” It took several seconds for her to respond. You could tell she was on the verge of passing out already. For three days, she had been hunched over the desk all day and night working. It was no surprise to see her finally giving in to sleep once everything was finished.

“Maybe that’ll work,” she slurred out. Grinning, you kissed her forehead and stroked soothingly at her hair. “If you can, then come back home right after so we can cuddle up in bed and you can finally get some rest, alright?” She nodded. “Alright.”

You had to help her get up and dressed for the day. While she worked on buttoning up her shirt and slipping on her shoes, you packed all of her work away in her bag and handed it to her once she plucked her keys from the hook by the front door.

“Uh, maybe you shouldn’t be driving,” you voiced, concerned. Before she could argue, you had taken the keys from her hand. “I’ll take you, okay? Let’s go.”

You linked arms with her, letting her lean against you as you both headed down into the parking lot of the apartment building and climbed into her car. During the drive to her workplace, you could see out of the corner of your eye that she was struggling to stay conscious as she leaned against the window. Once making it there, you helped her inside, led her to the office, and waited until her boss approved her day off (which she almost did immediately upon seeing Sunset’s state) before heading back down.

You fought back the urge to speed back to the house after Sunset nearly collapsed in the lobby, and once you finally made it back to your shared apartment, you nearly had to drag her back into the room and drop her onto the bed. There, she instantly pulled you on top of her. She then rolled over and shuffled down to let her head fall against your chest. As you smiled from her actions, you managed to tug the comforter out from under her and pull it over her already sleeping form.

With your arms draped comfortingly over her shoulder and the other tucked under her waist, you pressed yet another kiss to her head and sighed. Your eyes fell shut, and you soon drifted off yourself, thankful to finally have her sleeping soundly in your arms again.

[sariel626]

I read your platonic dad Poe fic. Could you do another one where Poe has to run to the office and brings his kid for a few minutes and they meet Fitzgerald for the first time. He tries to keep his little detective quiet lol

AAAAAAA! My first request!!! This is so exciting!!!

Note: Fitzgerald did meet reader under different circumstances in the other Poe work, so we’ll have reader’s memory be foggy of him.

TW: possible OOC characters

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Emergency Meeting!🚨🚨🚨

Poe grabbed his phone and noticed it was Francis calling, so he answered the call while motioning for (Reader) to be quiet, “Hello boss, is there something you need? Ah yes, the plans for the new buildings have been drafted. I can bring them in a couple hours for review- 15 minutes?! N-No, it’s not a problem, but my daughter, she can’t be left alone yet. I promise she won’t be a bother! Thank you!”

Immediately after hanging up Poe started to gather his things. (Reader) had cleaned up her crayons and papers after figuring out she would probably be going somewhere with her dad. “Dad, are you going to work?” Poe sighed, “Yes, there’s a meeting I have to go to and unfortunately, you’ll be coming with me this time.” He recalled the last time (Reader) was at the office and shivered at the thought of the experience repeating. Poe grabbed his bag and began leading her out the door. The young girl whined at this, “Why can’t I stay with Uncle Ranpo? It’s Saturday, he’s not gonna be at work!” “I have to be there in less than fifteen minutes. That isn’t anywhere near enough time to drop you off with Ranpo. Did you grab some books? Colors and notebooks?” The girl hummed in response, pouting about having to go to her dad’s work on the weekend.

Living about 7 minutes away made it slightly easier for the stressed architect and young girl to arrive in time by speed walking. There were many times when a bookstore or sweet shop would catch little (Reader)’s eye and almost distract her, but Poe was determined to get him and his daughter to and through this meeting as soon as possible.

Once they arrived at the entrance of the guild, (Reader) felt a sense of deja vu wash over her. She grabbed Poe’s hand and he looked down at her. “I think I’ve been here before…and something bad happened. I don’t wanna go.” Her father’s expression immediately grew worried. Was she having traumatic flashbacks? Was he going to lose his daughter because of this important meeting? Karl jumped off Poe’s shoulders onto his daughter’s, which seemed to help calm the small girl’s nerves a bit. “It’ll only be one short meeting, then we’ll leave, I promise” Poe gave (Reader) a reassuring smile. “…Ok, but then we have to get ice cream!” “Deal!”

After passing through what seemed like 50 empty hallways, they finally made it to their destination with a minute to spare. Knocking on the door, they hear a “Come in” and both enter the lavish room, coming face to face with Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald himself and Louisa Alcott by his side, as per usual. Seeing Poe now here, Francis smiled and checked his watch, “Poe! You’re just in time! Let’s take a look at what you’ve drawn up.” Ignoring the presence of Poe’s daughter, he watched Poe take out the files for each plan and set them on his desk. “The new firm will require at least $690,000,000 to build…”

Meanwhile, (Reader) had moved from behind Poe to behind the couch he was sitting on. She felt uncomfortable upon seeing the blonde CEO, but couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly that gave her that feeling. Taking out the crayons from her bag, the girl continued working on her picture for Uncle Ranpo. Sifting through the box to find a black crayon, because he always has to have his signature glasses at the scene, she noticed her red crayon fall out and roll around the corner of the couch. Of course, this did not go unnoticed by Francis. Amusement spread across his face as he spoke, “Poe, did you let in a rat?” Knowing full well who was there. The tousle haired writer tried to maintain his composure and picked it up, “I-It must’ve fallen out o-of my pocket from earlier.” Francis laughed, “I didn’t know you used crayons to draw up your plans for new structures.” This only raised Poe’s anxiety of the situation. Will Francis see his daughter and force him to get rid of her? Will he kill her?! “O-Occasionally I do, t-to avoid smearing in my drafts…” Hearing the poor excuse, Francis decided to see how far Poe would go to hide the girl’s presence. “I suppose that’s reasonable. Now, you were saying?”

The writer let out a sigh of relief internally and continued with the meeting. He couldn’t help but notice Louisa glancing next to him, almost as if she were trying to see behind the couch. At this point, (Reader) had finished her initial drawing and flipped her drawing notebook paper. Coincidentally, this was done almost in sync with her father, but she was slightly louder which caught the attention of the Guild’s strategist. The young girl, pondering what to draw next, glanced around the room before freezing up as she looked at the space between Fitzgerald’s desk and the door (like where Atsushi was before he escaped and took the doll to Dazai). Her pupils shrunk and (Reader)’s hand instinctively started moving to draw a familiar, yet forgotten memory…

As she was drawing, the small artist had built up the urge to sneeze and sneeze she did. The room fell silent for a few moments before Francis said, “Poe, please refrain from bringing anyone to Guild meetings again. You may come out from hiding.” (Reader) peeked her head out, still feeling a bit uncomfortable around the businessman. Francis would’ve been lying if he said he was surprised by the girl’s appearance. He had expected someone much older and taller. Clearing his voice without breaking eye contact, he asks Louisa to take the young girl to another room until he and Poe are finished.

Cleaning up her crayons again, and getting the red one from her father, (Reader) follows the loyal woman to a room nearby. “Miss Louisa? Can I call you that?” Louisa looked down at the kid, “Louisa or Alcott is fine.” “Do you have to go back?” “I do…but I don’t want to interrupt Lord Francis’s meeting…” The small girl pondered this, “Do you want to play double double this this?” Louisa was taken by surprise at the girl’s offer. Didn’t this kid remember her just watching Lord Francis killing her parents and almost her a few years ago? Why would she want to play a game with her? Unless it’s a trap! “—ouisa? Miss Louisa? You can say no, it’s ok.” A tiny hand was waving in front of Louisa’s face to snap her out of her thoughts. “S-Sorry, I don’t know how to play so I’ll just review my work. Can you please be completely quiet so I can work?” “I’ll try my best to be as quiet as possible!” Louisa smiled at the young detective’s determination, but immediately sweat dropped when (Reader) pulled out four adult mystery novels.

Soon enough, the meeting was over and the girl had solved three mysteries before reaching the end of the books. Louisa brought (Reader) back to Francis’s office, the room still making the young detective uneasy. Karl was the first of the three to notice the two enter, and he jumped onto the familiar child’s shoulder. This alerted both Poe and Francis of the two girls’ arrival. “Welcome back little one, I’m sure you were much better for Miss Louisa than you were during the meeting?” Poe sighed, “I-I’m so sorry sir…I j-just couldn’t find a-anyone to watch her.” Louisa interjected, “She was very good and polite. I asked her to stay quiet so I could work and she didn’t make a sound.”

The nervous girl who had been hiding behind Louisa with Karl on her shoulders came out, knowing that she had to apologize for causing trouble for her father. Fidgeting with the ends of her shirt, she bowed her head in shame, “I-I’m sorry for making so much noise during your meeting…and being a problem…” Francis patted her head and chuckled, “Just don’t let it happen again.” He pulled his hand back, “You’re exactly like your father, appearances aside. Run along now, I’m sure you two had plans today.” Poe and (Reader) said their goodbyes and quickly rushed out.

Once they were gone, Francis frowned and continued staring at the door, “Miss Louisa.” “Y-Yes Lord Francis?” He turned towards her, “Don’t you think that girl resembled Eliza Haywood and Damien Lewis a bit too much?” Louisa noticed this too, but she didn’t expect her boss to ask her about it so soon. “I do…but are we still going to kill her? Poe seemed really attached to her…” “He was told to kill her if he saw her back then, that means he disobeyed an order.” Francis sighed and sat down in his chair at his desk, “But this could bear fruit for us if we play our cards right, let’s leave her be for now. I’m sure her father will help hone whatever gift that girl has.” “Should I retrieve the files on her biological parents?” “No, please continue putting together the next strategy.”

Meanwhile, after having left Francis’s office, Poe began scolding his daughter. “You can’t cause more problems for Mr. Fitzgerald like that. He’s busy enough as is with his businesses and running the Guild. He had to call me in on a day off because of his schedule being so packed. Please don’t let that happen again, especially when you can be quieter for other people.” There was a moment of silence as the little (Reader) let his words sink in. “ Oh, Why were you so nervous around him? I mean, I don’t blame you since he could easily fire me or kill m-“ The girl stopped in her tracks the moment he said ‘kill’ with a terrified expression on her face. Poe saw this and immediately grew worried, he hadn’t seen that look since he first took her in. The writer, not knowing what to do, reached out his hand like he did so long ago and asked, “Would you like to go to those sweet shops we passed on our way here? We could also s-stop by the bookstore if it’s still open?” Trying to hide the nervousness in his voice. Karl nuzzled her cheek, both gestures making the child snap out of her trance. She shakily grabbed her dad’s hand and the three left to fulfill Poe’s offer to his daughter.

———————————————————————

YOU CAN’T BEAT THE POWER OF ENERGY DRINKS AND OVERWORKING MYSELF WRITER’S BLOCK! I GOT THE POWER OF CHILD READER ON MY SIDE!

I’m so sorry if you’re not happy with how this turned out. I tried to keep it consistent with the how (Reader) was adopted story. Please feel free to give feedback, it is much appreciated.

Fun Fact: Eliza Haywood and Damien Lewis are also writers irl.

[harryleatherfit]

Entergalatic🍸

Frankie Morales Oneshot x F!Reader || 5.1 k

you’re a law school student and you just recently moved to a new neighborhood, you happen to be neighbors with frankie morales. he comes around sometimes to help fix things, but tonight you’re at the same bar, under a beautiful night in miami.

warnings: any themes in triple frontier, mention of NA, mentions of using coke, mentions of substance abuse, choking, overstimulation, squirting, cum play, unprotected p in v, oral f! receiving, pearl necklace, alcohol consumption, mentions of masturbation, mentions of creampie (WEAR A CONDOM PLS)

lmk if i’ve missed anymore thx

ONE-SHOT PLAYLIST

Disco Tits- Tove Lo

Entergalatic- Kid Cudi

Replay- Dorian Electra Remix Lady Gaga

🪩Main Master List🪩

Frankie had suggested that he and the guys should go to the bar for a night of distress. They were all on edge for their trip to Columbia, after a long night of elongating their plan, they would all start to bicker. Never getting a second to spare for themselves, never getting a moment to slip away and forget their responsibilities, plus their past lives.

Redfly, Benny, Ironhead and Fish himself were putting everything on the line for Pope. He was fucking his informant, and he was letting his feelings get in the way for his line of work. Per usual of Santi.

Fish was bored, he had nothing to lose anymore. He was tired of chasing after the military and wasting his life away trying to get his flying license back. He was done with the fucking coke, done using and wasting his life away.

But he was hungry for more. Feral like a bear to have his life back. He wanted to settle down, start a life of his own. Run away and become somebody that he didn’t recognize. He wanted love. He wanted to be loved, but could he reciprocate that love? He’s broken and always has been.

Out of the whole group, he felt like he was the least to find love, his life was fucked the most, and after finishing his NA meetings, he felt whole as a person. For so long he was trying to push help away but it worked on him somehow. He wanted himself back.

They were walking in the Miami heat, turning down a busy street downtown, it was fucking crazy full at this hour, people from all walks of life filling every crevice of the road. Was it some holiday?

They peered into a club that was full to the brim. A dance floor, live music, a bar to drink at. Frankie couldn’t have asked for more.

They get past the bouncer, finding a corner near the back of the bar, hunkering down their space in the midst of all the chaos. It reeked of sex and alcohol. Gotta fucking love Miami, he thought.

He appreciated the small things, this crowd was beautiful and dressed so vibrantly, the dark sky with the full moon was gorgeous, and the music was floating inside his ears. Every second that passes his heart jumps for more.

He flags down the bartender, “I’ll get uh Whiskey Sour, you guys know what you want?”

They order their drinks and settle in their chairs.

An idea sparks in Frankies head, “Benny, how much money to go up to a random pretty girl and start dancin with her?”

“You’re fuckin crazy, you tryin to start some game topshot?” He barks back.

“Nah, tryin to see how far you’ll go for pussy.” He huffs under his breath, chasing it with another whiskey.

“Very fucking funny Fish, if thats what you want.”

Benny gets up, setting his jacket down, and he dove into the crowd of dancing people.

It’ll be a fun night for the pretty boy, Fish laughed.

“Hey, you guys know it’s a college night here. I think for Miami college that’s why it's so full. I don’t know if you’ll find much to do here.” The Bartender shouts over the music.

College night. Would you be here?

He glances over at the crowd, looking between every body. Searching.

“You’ve got plan s’to Fish?” Pope slurs.

“Maybe.” He can feel the pump of his heart quicken.

And finally he sees you, the sun in the room.

You were wearing this gorgeous orange sundress with golden flakes spread across the bottom, complimenting your skin tone. The top half caressing you, not only hugging you in every crevice but revealing your tattoos. He had only ever seen your tattoos when you ran in the neighborhood.

You had recently moved in next to him for the school year. You were living alone, after a long partying phase for your earlier years of college. You were in law school right now, and you had to focus.

You had met your neighbor. Ran into him a couple times around town, seeing each outside your houses, he would see you wash your car, you would drool over him through your window when you saw him cleaning his motorcycle.

There were a few times you were having house troubles, and you would saunter over, hoping he was able to help you. You didn’t exactly have thousands of dollars to pay someone to fix tiny things about your house.

When he would come over, he was always so polite, so gentle and kind to you. As you would immediately open the door, the brightest smile would wave across his face, the dimples in his cheeks deeplining into his face. The lines next to eyes, the deep furrow of his eyebrows, the strong curve of his nose. His strong, bulky arms. His fucking arms. The curve of his stomach, never failing to peek through his shirt. You screamed yourself to sleep, rubbing the ache away in your heated core, your clit craved his fingers.

He would always pick up his hat, and run his hands through his thick, dark hair. But when he would walk through the entrance of your house, you would have butterflies. You couldn’t calm yourself, and you would always be so hyper aware around him. He could never be attracted to you, you couldn’t have been his type, and you were so self conscious all the time. Being a young girl in college can really mess with your head.

You couldn’t guess how much older he was than you, you weren’t sure if he was in a relationship, so you decided to keep your distance. You didn’t want to get in the way of his peaceful life.

But from afar, you looked so happy on the dance floor. Frankie was studying your every single move. Your hair swishes, you pull strands back to relieve your face. Sweat collects all over your neck from dancing, watching the rise and fall of your chest. He watched the fast motion of your head falling back with the music, your friends crowding around you, giggling in the air.

You were so radiant, desirable, and happy.

You spotted him immediately when he walked in with his friends. Your friends immediately called dibs on all of them except for Frankie, so ironic, how could no one want a man as fucking hot as him?

You were hoping he would see you, pull you away, and wish your woes away just for one night.

But you didn’t have the courage to go up to him, you felt so small compared to him. How could you mean anything to him?

And finally you trust yourself enough to make eye contact with him. He’s already looking you up and down, sliding the last of his drink down. He looked like a lion, ready to lunge across a meadow to claim what's his.

He was wearing his usual trucker hat, his locks peeking beneath the sides. A black leather jacket, stretching across his body, unzipped. He was wearing a low cut white undershirt with a v line, for you could see his exposed happy trail. And his last addition, gold chains on his neck and wrists.

Usually guys your age tried to wear chains to make them more appealing, to lure girls into bed and get their cock sucked and go, but Frankie wearing this chain wasn’t just that. This was his flaunt, his teasing. You knew he had money, but not sure how much he had.

“Hey, what’s all this eye fucking with they guy over there, he’s looking at you like he’s gonna eat you for a meal.” Your friend Lexie yells into your ear.

“The night is still young Lexie,” You brace your hands on her shoulders, “Let him look at me.” You purr into her ear.

Immediately something ticked in Frankies brain, he needed your hands around him. He needed to be with you, alone.

“Fish, what's gotten you so quiet?” Ironhead pats him on the shoulder, “You’re practically drooling over the damn floor on the edge of your seat.”

“My neighbor, she’s here.” He chokes.

“That college girl you were tellin us about, yeah? The one with the house troubles.” Pope asks. “You thinkin anything could come out of it?”

“I don’t know, possibly. She’s a fuckin sweetheart. She gets all shaky when I come over.”

“That’s a sign man, go gettem.” Redfly claps his shoulder.

“Not after another fuckin drink.” He needed to be intoxicated enough to not be different around you, he wanted to be himself around you.

He shoots it down, getting up and receiving cheers from the boys. He couldn’t handle them anymore, he needed you.

When he gets up, the pain in your lower abdomen soothes, you could feel the gravitational pull enclosing.

He makes his way through the crowd, weaving through the bodies, making the most blood curdling eye contact with you, you break free from your friends.

“I didn’t think I would ever find you at a bar, Mr. Morales.” You smirk.

That name you always used, insisted, made his cock twitch in the tight cloth of his jeans.

“Please, call me Frankie.” You laugh and roll your eyes, with all the people on the dance floor, you two are enclosed. In your little bubble away from the loud world.

You had a tumbler full of Vodka in your hand, you took a swig of it and offered it to him.

“No I’m okay darlin, don’t want too much tonight.” He stares at you while you take another drink.

“Whatever you say, Mr. Morales.” Winking at him, edging him on. The intoxication from the alcohol makes you feel so free you can say anything around him. He moves closer to you, finding your ear to whisper in, “I know what you’re doing pretty girl, usin that name.” He whispers.

A song change, some Kid Cudi song and the crowd raised havoc, but nothing changed between you two. You were closer than ever, practically hugging each other so when you spoke you could hear each other.

“Look at you, wearing this perfect dress, your hair tied up, your tattoos peakin out.”

“You like what you see?” You ask. This is it.

“Do I like what I see? I always have darlin,” He finds your hand and kisses your wrist, “Don’t be shy on me now.”

You put your hands around his neck and dance to the beat of the song. Entergalactic.

His hands were roaming around on your back, and you could feel the tight cold leather against your chest, making your nipples harden.

You flipped around so his chest could be against your back, and his hands were touching your torso. Up and down.

You decided to swirl your ass against his lower half, falling down to the ground and getting back up, letting loose with the music. He twirled you around a few times, getting in rhythm with your body.

You feel the metal of his belt, only a thin layer of fabric on your body separating you from him.

You could feel growth expanding on your ass, you wanted more.

“You little minx, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.” His eyes peering into your soul.

“I know exactly what I’m getting myself into Francisco.” You purr.

Not only did Frankie snarl, but the animal inside him snapped. He needed you now.

“Hm, need another drink?” He grabs your hand, pulling you off the dance floor.

Immediately you feel the slick pooling down your leg.

You didn’t care about your friends calling after you, and you didn’t care about anything that's happening right now. You needed Frankie immediately.

Frankie walks back with a water bottle in hand, smart man.

“Walk with me gorgeous.”

You follow him, he found a secluded hallway across the bathroom, behind the ruckus of the club, no one to be seen in sight.

“What could someone like you, be here at a club at this hour?” He asks, in a pitch you couldn’t even register.

“I tagged along with my friends, I was bored at home. Nothing to study, no one to screw.”

He chuckles, “No one to fuck, huh?” The heat between you both ticks up a thousand degrees, “And how do you like to be fucked angel?”

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.” You repeat.

The world comes crashing down when he shoves his lips onto yours. Moving so quickly you don’t know where you are in space and time. All you can smell is him, all you can feel is him.

In between breaths, “I like to be fucked rough and hard.” You reach your hand down to his cock, “I want to be fucked so hard I can’t think.”

With those words, he can’t hold back anymore, he picks you up. Pulling your legs around his waist, carrying you into the bathroom. Messily locking the door behind him. He slams you down onto the counter and grabs your face, pulling your lips in. His tongue invades your mouth. Never leaving and exploring you as a whole.

Your legs wrap around him again, the sting in your pussy hurting so bad. You needed relief. He withdrew from your lips and started to lap at your throat. You were half-lidded, barely being able to see what was going on. The ecstasy of oxytocin firing off in your brain. You couldn’t comprehend words, let alone understand that Frankie Morales was anchored to you right now.

Your skin was so soft, you melted under Frankies touch. He was sucking so hard on your neck you knew it would bruise so heavily but you didn’t care. You were his for the night. The whole world could know that. His fucking slut.

He trailed down your throat, shoving his hands under your dress finding your bare hard nipples.

“You poor thing, pretty slut not getting her fucking in for the night.” He mutters under his breath.

The pleasure you felt from his thick heavy fingers under your dress added to your fire.

He pushed the straps of your dress past your shoulders exposing your tits. He attacks each nipple, swirling one in his mouth and pinching the other. He popped off, blowing air on it. This makes you squirm, throwing your head back to the turbulent feeling.

He pushes your dress past your legs, all the fabric meeting at your stomach.

He stances wider, opening your legs wider. He grazed his hands over your covered mound, teasing you. You were laying on your elbows, looking down at his bulge, the swell of his belly meeting your core. His body fit yours so earth shatteringly.

“All wrapped up for me, sweet thing. So pretty and perfect. You wear lace every night?”

“On nights, I know I’m gonna get fucked.” You cry.

“Fucking slut, knew she was gonna get fucked from the start, didn’t think it was gonna be me, yeah?”

“If nothing happened here,” You heave, “I was gonna go home, walk my ass to your house, and get fucking pounded.”

Each word you say coaxes him more, sliding your underwear off, relieving your pussy from its tremor. He bites his lower lip, “Look at you pretty girl, pussy leakin everywhere.” He skims your entrance collecting your juices on his fingertips. “Only a slut can be this wet, my fuckin slut.” He shoves three fingers inside your sopping cunt, stretching you so wide. He starts off slow, but then he sets an unbearable pace.

“Frankie, that’s too fast, if you keep going I’m gonna come.” You wine.

“You ain’t gonna come just fuckin yet, not before my hand gets tired.” You’re practically dripping all over his wrist. The squelching of your pussy filling the room, along with the guttural mewls coming from your throat.

Frankies arm was working you so electrically, the veins in his arms were glistening. The muscles in his shoulders are so thick, his jacket was barely even on now, his shirt leaving none to the imagination.

Black ink, scaling all over his body. The thought of your pussy grazing his soft stomach, made you want to do unspeakable things. That alone made you want to be his whore. Only his fucking whore.

He spit on your cunt, lubing you up for more. The contact of the liquid makes you flinch. He wasn’t holding you anymore, he was burying his fingers inside you, bringing his other hand to work your clit.

‘Its- its- too much. Too much Frankie- I can’t last.” You gasp.

“No, you’re not allowed to cum, sluts don’t come.” He grunts in your ear, shoving his whole hand inside your tight pussy, “You think you get to come? You think just because you’re so close you get to come?”

“Please Frankie- I’ll be so good- ngh- fuck- fuck, I’ll be the best girl in the world.” You howl.

The whole club could practically hear Frankie finger fucking you.

“I can hear ya y’know? At night. I can hear callin out my name when you play with this pretty pussy. I bet you have a pretty pink dildo so deep inside ya thinking it’s my cock fillin you up.”

You can’t take anymore, the more he speaks, the tighter your walls become, “I bet you bring a little vibrator to this bud, torturing it, wishing it was my tongue.”

“I didn’t-ah- fuck-shi- I didn’t think I was that- loud. My window’s always-closed.”

“No, gorgeous. You scream so good, I can feel your body convulsing when you come because of me.” He licks a long stripe on your tit, “Look, fluttering on my fingers, fuckin pussy can’t take it can she. It’sokay ‘cause I’m gonna fuck you til you can’t see.” Fastening his pace again, “You can fuckin come now, come on these fingers like the slut I know you are,” Tears forming at the edge of your eyes, you can’t take the burn in your pussy, too powerful. Slamming your hands to his wrists, trying to make him stop but he just kept going.

“My fucking pussy.” He gives his last pump inside you, lifting his fingers to his mouth. Groaning around his digits. “You taste so sweet angel, pussy so sweet I’d get fuckin fat on eatin you out every night.”

Breaching your climax, chest heaving at a million miles per hour, “No matter what you look like,” You rub your hands along his torso, you wish you could worship his stomach, his powerful body, “I’ll always be fuckin yours Frankie.”

He sloppily finds your lips again, kissing you until you can’t feel the throb in your sopping cunt.

“Said you were gonna be a good girl?” He questions, easing the fuse on your clit. Shaking your head yes, “Give me your hands.” No questions asked, you put your hands in front of your bodies, waiting for your next instruction, just like his obedient little slut.

You watch him step back, loosening his belt and slipping it out of the loops to his jeans.

“Gonna fuckin tie me up? Tie me up like a fuckin whore, takin your cock and not able to do a thing about it?” You taunt. Rubbing your pussy on the fabric of his jeans, soaking his crotch area.

He takes the belt and slaps your pussy with it, you jump at the sensation, hitting your clit just right, groaning just thinking about being tied up like a fucking bunny, not able to move and his cock relentlessly slipping out of you.

“You fuckin dirty girl, likin her pussy to be slapped. Dirty dirty fuckin whore.” Tugging at your wrists to go above your head, weaving the belt to keep your hands snug together.

He gets on his knees, eyes level with eachother, “Give me one more beautiful, give me one more and then I’ll give you my fuckin cock.”

His tongue melding into your cunt, delving so far to a point you couldn’t reach yourself. He wrapped his hands around your waist, bringing you closer to the edge of the sink. Sitting you up as your legs dangle off his back. Heels clicking against each other.

His tongue drives inside you so fast, screaming the fire away in your lungs.

You roll your hips over his face, feeling the hook of his nose brush your clit, sinking further onto his face. He hums, moving his face side to side, pulsating his tongue. Not being able to move your hands made you squirm, trying to relieve the ache in your blazing core so quickly.

Once his tongue reaches a hole you’d never think to touch yourself, you tighten.

“Never had your ass full before?” He asks.

“No, never.” You whimper.

“It’s s’okay, one day princess.” He coos, “I heard when you fuck a girl so fast in the ass, she squirts instantaneously because the pleasur is so intoxicating the pussy doens’t know which is which.” He chuckles.

Thinking about squirting on Frankies dick, makes you spasm, the orgasm bursting out of you from nowhere.

“Hmmm, that’s it baby, come all over my fuckin face, give it all to me.”

Once he’s done devouring the last of your sensitive nub, he gets up, undoing his belt to your hands, letting it drop to the floor. Never being so relieved to touch him again.

“That was really fucking good Frankie, jesus.” You shiver.

“Don’t thank me yet, darlin. Haven’t even fucked you yet.”

The thought of seeing his cock now made your eyes roll to the back of your head, finally getting to feel his length break you open.

“Go on, get the fucker out. See it for yourself.”

You gulp, bracing yourself. You fiddle with the button to his pants, ultimately undoing it and sliding his pants down partially. You could feel your entrance fluttering, finally just one more layer.

You reach the band of his boxers, slowly bringing them down rescinding a seethe from Frankie through his teeth. And fucking finally all you were waiting for the whole night.

His cock was fucking thick and long. You’ve never seen a dick this long before. The head of his cock so red and needy, ready to fill you. Ready to fill his dumb cock whore.

“Jesus Frankie, it is gonna fit?” You whimper, you just want to feel him sinking inside you already.

“Princess, I’ll fucking make it fit, don’t worry.” He kisses your cheek.

He gives his cock a few pumps in his hand. Wait, you need a condom.

“Frankie, we need a condom, quick.” You weep.

“I’ll put out. I promise.” You side eye him, every fucking guy says that.

“I promise, no babies tonight.” He winks at you.

God your babies would be fucking adorable. His babies mixed with you. Horny motherfucker.

“No more pussy if you don’t pull out, that’s it.”

“Can’t say that now, can ya? This pussy’s been mine and always will be mine.” He snaps.

He takes his cock, rubbing his cock with the swollen lips of your cunt. Mixing your slick with his pre-cum.

“Look at ya, already got cock brain, pussy’s quiverin for me.”

“Just fuck me already, cock can’t do anything but be soft” You purr.

“I’m gonna fuck that mouth away, just you watch.” And he slams into you, “This pussy ain't gonna be the same when we go home.”

And at the hilt, he thrusts into your pussy, splitting you open. Your jaw dropping, as his dick breaches you.

“Oh my- fucking god. Frankie, you’re so big- so so big.” You mewl. He keeps pushing inside you, cock sliding in and out of you, your liquids sliding out of your hole, slipping to the ground. His shirt riding up over his love handles, pants laying on his upper thighs. The happy trail on his pillowed stomach colliding with your mound. Fucking into you so right, his balls were hitting the back of your legs. Girthy cock never failing to make you flail like a fucking thumper bunny, making your body go into shock.

“Gonna fuckin come when I say you can come. Hear me? Gonna fuck this pussy so deep your can feel it in your throat.” He yells.

You can barely acknowledge what he's saying so lost in the midst of it all, your throat bare from screaming.

“So- deep Frankie- so fuckin deep-.” You scream.

You sit up on the counter to hold onto him, to pull him closer as he fucks up into you, the angle making you go dizzy. You both were so sweaty, the slap of your bodies together making your skin flush red.

“Fuckin whore,” He grunts, “Pussy lips fittin like a glove, cock so good, it’s practically slipping out. Fuck baby.” He’s pounding into you so fast you can’t breathe, the whimpers from your body disappearing. His hands grab your waist, pulling you in and out on his dick, holding you steady.

“I’m your fucking whore,” You cry, “Always you’re fuckin whore. Been waiting- so fuckin- long to be fucked by you. Been such a good girl for this cock.” You shiver, “Want to be fuckin bruised tonight, want be used.”

“Oh baby, just my fuckin needy whole, just a fuckin cum dump. My pretty little cum dump just waitin for what's hers.”

He pumps into you, tantalizing the spongy spot inside your willowing cunt. As he pulls out, the pain is so sharp from being empty you could fall over and shrivel up.

He keeps kissing you, fucking into you and bouncing with you up an down. Saying his name over and over again as a prayer. Only Frankie can do this to you. Finally getting fucked by your next door neighbor.

“You’re right- fuck- ngh- keep going. You caught me- I’ve dreamt about this- since- shit- I moved in. The moment- ah fuck- I saw you, I wanted to suck you off. I imagined your- fingers inside me every night.” You were trembling, sweating beading over your face, you wanted to come so bad but he fucking said no.

“Strugglin their sweetheart? Pussy want something?”

“I want to fuckin cum Frankie, I want to come over your dick and feel you dripping out of me. Please, fill me up, dump into me. Fill me so full I’m dripping of you all night and everyone can see.”

“Dick brain taking over too much baby, not tonight but another night.” He soothes.

Another night, more nights with him. More nights being drunk on Frankie.

“Come on, let’s make this pussy cum again, yeah?”

You nod your head, and you aren’t prepared for what happens next.

He picks you up from the counter, walking towards a wall of the bathroom and propping you there, using the support of his thighs to keep you up. This could make you cum alone.

You were hovering over his dick against the wall, him pulling you up and down again, clamping down on his glistening cock, covered of you.

Bouncing on his cock, the angle unleashed something in you. Not only was the head of dick flittering with the spongy area of your pussy, but his length kept kissing your cervix, tearing you open.

“My dirty fucking slut, loving that my cocks breaking her tight little pussy open, “ You wail, the intermissable things he’s said to you tonight never fails to make your pussy clamp around his cock. His dirty fucking mouth making you cum to see the stars. He wraps his hand around your throat, closing your airway enough to make your eyes roll to the back of your head. His fingers over the correct veins, cutting off circulation to your brain.

“Like being choked? Like my big fuckin hand wrapped around your throat?” He snarls, “Those pretty eyes can’t focus when a dicks controlling her brain.”

You feel your stomach swell, a feeling you haven’t felt in a while, this balloon close to popping in your lower belly, never able to hide itself.

“I can feel it too, pretty girl, let go for me, douse my cock. Cum for me.” He purrs into your ear.

“Frankie- it’s strong- it’s too much- i’m gonna- im’ gonna fuckk.” Your mind blanks.

And hesitantly but surely, you hear a stream leaving your pussy, leaking all over his cock and onto the bathroom floor, soaking the hairs of his happy trail. Making the light denim of his jeans turn into a deep indigo from the leakage of your pussy.

“Yes- squirt all over my fuckin cock, yesss, pussy so perfect.” He places a hand on your stomach, feeling for his dick in the depths of your body, “See what my dick can do to your body? See when you’re a good girl you get to squirt all over me, and feel my cock all the way in this tight little pussy?”

You shudder, you almost shut down from all the pleasure, but he doesn’t stop just yet after your cunt stopped spurting out water. He forces you back on his cock a few more times, this is for himself you figure.

“God so fucking- good for me- pussy shovin me out, so tight and slick,” He shudders, “Such a pretty girl, so happy you live next to me gorgeous.” He pulls out, setting you briskly down on the floor, falling to your knees from being so numb.

Giving his beading cock a few more pumps, “Fuck where can I cum? Fuck- baby I’m not gonna last much longer, it’s-”

“Cum on my fucking neck, give me a pearl necklace Francisco.” You look into his eyes. Hot white spurts of Frankies cum falling all over your neck, your tongue managing to catch some. So salty and sweet, the perfect treat. He’s holding onto the wall, chest heaving so heavy, cock dangling in the air, your hand at the tip of his dick, collecting more cum to swirl into your mouth.

“Fuckin dirty girl, wearin me like I’m jewelry.” He laughs, “Gonna go out in public and show me off or what?”

“Couldn’t have you sleeping out my pussy, so I can have you slipping down my tits.”

He couldn’t believe the nasty head you had, but he fucking loved it, he loved everything about you. He wet a cloth to clean you up, to sooth the dull ache in your lower abdomen. You were so blissed out you would have fallen asleep.

“Come home with me.” He asks.

You did.

————

heyy everyone🙋🏻‍♀️ so how’d i do. tad scared this isn’t good bc it’s my first one shot BUT DAMNNNNNN

[mrshigurumasshop]

Petty Woman | K. Bakugo ~ you and your partner get into petty arguments and sometimes you actually get him back good for it

ft ~ time skip!bakugo katsuki x f!reader

content warning ~ when i say petty arguments it’s all for jokes between reader and bakugo

reposts are appreciated!!

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When the both of you are giving each other the silent treatment after an argument, Bakugo gets tired of it pretty fast.

But he doesn’t show that he misses you through words of affection or physical affection. He doesn’t say sorry whether it was his fault or not for causing the argument and he doesn’t sweet talk you like he usually does on a daily.

No, he starts small petty arguments. Saying the stupidest shit to you knowing that either a) it’ll make you laugh b) you’ll get even more mad and yell at him which turns him on and leads to hate(not actually) sex, or c) you hit him back even harder.

Usually the first two happen because you’re not really the one out of the two of you to say something mean like he does but sometimes you just tip over a bit and get him back.

This one time he saw you doing your hair for work in the morning and the blonde bastard said, “Oi, you doing you’re hair doesn’t make you less annoying to me,” he smirks with a smug tone that makes you wanna punch his stupidly handsome face.

You scoff and stayed quiet as you continued to do your morning routine. You ignored his goodbye kiss by passing right by him and leaving your shared home.

He had the day off from work so he kinda sat on the couch for a good chunk of the day wondering if he actually hurt your feelings this time. A little part of him didn’t think it was that bad of a petty comment so he shrugged it off and will continue his comments till you break.

After several boring hours, you returned home with a huge sigh and muttered, “I’m home,” to you’re blonde partner. You walked into the kitchen to see your asshole boyfriend cooking dinner so you ignored him and went straight to the fridge for a small snack.

Bakugo turned around to see you buried kn the fridge and the fact that your hair was taken out of its hairstyle you had this morning. “You’re still annoying with your hair back to normal,” he says with a smile as he leans against the counter letting the food sit a bit on the pan.

You rolled your eyes and turned around to face him. You laughed to yourself as your eyes raked over his face and body. You then get a look at his hair that is still blonde. Still unruly. And still spikey. Your tilt your head to the side with furrows brows as you stared at his hair.

Bakugo noticed it right away and was quick to question you. “Oi, the fuck you starin’ at, woman?” he asked with the same furrowed brows as yours.

“Did-did you do something to your hair today?” you questioned with a baffled look on your face.

“The hell?” he questioned as you as he gave you a are-you-stupid look on his face, “I didn’t do shit to my hair.”

“Oh,” you blinked then hummed in response, “It’s just…I don’t know… It looks…thinner,” you smirked almost evilly then walked away into the bedroom.

Poor Bakugo was left wide-eyed in the kitchen hearing how you so easily told him that he was already thinning out at the ripe age of twenty-six. He unconsciously started running his fingers through his thick hair and after hearing your comment he immediately thought he was thinning out.

He didn’t even let a few curse words since he was so caught off guard that when he ran into the bathroom and shut the door, you immediately started laughing to yourself.

“What a baby,” you laughed.

~

~

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: mtas | chapter 3 excerpt | ch. rating: g | ao3

a farewell

Sage’s fingers grazed the knob of A and G Construction. With a deep breath, she gave it a twist, her last commission as a builder in a bag on her shoulder. The knob was cold to the touch, mid fall’s chill seeping into the metal. Into her bones. With a slight shiver she pushed the door open. A rush of air swept in and the bell above her head tingled too loud and obnoxious. She hated that bell.

“Sage!” Albert exclaimed and it prompted Gust to perk up.

“Hey,” she said, barely audible. “Got your rug.”

“Thank you!” There was a momentary pause as Albert rounded the desk to unravel the rug and have his fill of inspecting it. Then he said,”this will look perfect in my newly renovated bathroom.”

“I hope so,” she replied, holding onto the strap of her bag to keep it from sliding off her shoulder.

Though it was a simple rag rug design done in shades of blue, Albert seemed quite satisfied with her finished product. “Is there anything your hands touch that don’t come out perfect? Let me get you your fee.”

There were plenty of things she touched that she spoiled, actually, but she wasn’t in the mood to debate about it. She assumed he meant it as a compliment and she would accept it as such.

“Actually, just keep it. It’s on me.” After all, she had more than enough money to take with her.

“I can’t.”

“You can. Consider it a—gift.”

“You’re the best Sage.” Albert threw her a wink.

“Yeah, sure. If you say so.” She waved him off and took two steps to her right, bending down to give her favorite domestic pig a pat. He was Gust’s pig, a gift given many years ago now when he studied in Atara. “Hey QQ.” Sage’s tone pitched higher and more patronizing. “How’s the bestest, sweetest pig in Portia?” The pig offered no response to her rhetorical question. Didn’t even roll onto his back for a belly rub.

Gust stood, swiping his long strawberry blonde locks away from his face while waiting for her to make her rounds. He’d been her closest friend in Portia, as well as his whole family really but Gust knew secrets that the others didn’t. Her heart clenched at the idea of leaving them, but especially him, behind. They would be the most difficult to say goodbye to. As she fed QQ an aroma apple, she tried not to shrink herself under his watchful gaze.

“You have him spoiled, you know.”

Her voice came out unamused and apathetic. “He deserves to be spoiled.”

“Hmm.”

“Well, it’s certainly good to see you too, Gust.” But her sarcasm fell flat, her usual banter twinged with a bittersweet sadness. “What’s on the agenda today? Doing any painting?”

He often went down to the water at sunset, painting the horizon or a picturesque scene of some sort. His pieces always turned out marvelous too. He’d given her one of QQ playing in a pile of leaves for her birthday last year that she kept hung on the wall in her living room. There was a concerned twitch of his brow as he studied Sage. But he stuffed his hand into his pocket, crinkling his pristine blue trousers and smoothing out his expression.

“Drawing up plans for the latest project in Atara and then taking a stroll to gather inspiration. You could join me later—if you’d like?”

“I—” Her gaze passed over the floor tiles, noting a cracked corner near the step up to Gust’s desk, as she clasped her hands together. “I actually need to start packing.” She cringed. “Thank you though.”

It took Gust a second to process what she just said as she turned her attention back to Albert. “And you, Albert? Any plans?”

“I was just telling Gust here that I’ll be heading out to Sandrock tomorrow so I’ll have to pack my things after work today.”

“Oh, you’ll be staying there?”

“Yeah, it’ll be easier if I just rent a room out for a week.”

“Oh, well if you’d like, you could stay with me.”

“Sage, I hardly think your house is the—“

“You’re moving,” Gust interrupted, void of all emotion.

[d4rks1n]

Egg laying with intrulogical, bottom logan?

Incubator

Ship: Intrulogical

Kink: Egg Laying

Warnings: Degradation

               “Fuck, Remus,” Logan moaned out lowly as one of Remus’ tentacles ensnared him in their grasp.

“That’s kinda the plan sweet cheeks. Gonna fill you so full of my eggs,” Remus stated, which gave Logan a moment to stop it immediately. He only gave a low nod before Remus grinned, “good. You’ll look nice and full with my clutch.” It was the only warning Logan got before the oozing tentacles ripped the clothes from his body.

He glared at Remus for a split moment before those same eyes rolled back, one tentacle pressing against his front while another pressed into his mouth, effectively gagging him. “What was that?” Remus cooed to Logan condescendingly, “you’re gonna have to speak up.” He cackled as the tentacles lifted Logan enough for him to easily reach the other. He didn’t yet touch him, rather enraptured in watching the other writhe against the one pressing against him. Remus knew it wouldn’t take long for his aphrodisiac to set in, but he did like listening to Logan whine, already so different from his usual “perfect” state.

Remus hummed, summoning some lube onto his fingers. He gave no warning before roughly sticking them into Logan, causing a shocked cry from him. Remus laughs once more at his reaction before slowly prepping him to take the thickest tentacle. It was one Logan liked to challenge himself to take often, but they couldn’t be too careful, not with multiple clutches to come.

Logan pressed back desperately against the fingers prepping him before moving to get more friction. He gasps out a whine when that tentacle moves away. “Tsk, tsk, and I’m being so nice to you! We can’t let the fun end to soon!” Remus reminded him, removing his fingers just as the tentacle moved back to angle correctly.

Logan’s body goes taught like a live wire when it first presses in before his eyes roll back and he moans low and loud.

“There we are!” Remus snickered, pulling the one in his mouth away. “Doesn’t that feel better?”

Logan’s only reply was a dumb little nod.

“Good! It’s only just begun!” He stepped back a moment before the tentacle started at a rough fast pace, “oh yeah, they’re not up to the foreplay today. You probably don’t need it anyway. You’re already so hard! You’re going to be so overstimulated, but we both know you love it. Don’t ya, dirtly little slut?”

He couldn’t manage a response, not with the tentacle hitting every sensitive spot. It was all so good but not enough.

“I can’t wait to see you filled again. You’re gonna be so full and rounded, even if for a few minutes. I wonder what shape they’re gonna take this time. Will they be blue? Or green? We’ll see,” Remus shrugged as he continued to watch the scene before him. It was a beautiful sight, and symphony. Soon the other would be begging him to cum and to be bred or filled. He always tried to stick out for that long. It didn’t always work. Couldn’t help that his little slut was so hot.

Logan choked as he felt the clutch just against his entrance. “Yeah, you feel that? Soon it’ll be in you. Nice and warm.”

“Please.”

“Don’t worry, soon.” Remus reassured, moving to gently take Logan’s cock in hand, giving it a few quick pumps as he spoke, “you don’t have to beg me to cum. You know you can. I like making you cum till you pass out. Or till I’m coated in it. Ooo that gives me an idea for next time,” Remus wiggled his shoulders just as Logan arched with a cry, cumming over Remus arm. “There’s the money shot,” Remus snickered and licked some of it off his arm.

“They’re coming too!” He warned Logan as the eggs slowly deposited into his body. A low overstimulated noise left Logan as he squirmed slightly. “Enjoying it? I bet they’re pressing nice against your prostate right now, slowly expanding the area. I wonder how big your stomach will be,” Remus pondered as he pressed a gentle hand on Logan’s stomach. “Wanna measure it again? You wanted to last time.”

Logan nodded his head, panting, desperately trying to catch his breath despite the slight pleasure still being given. Though, once the full clutch had been given, and Logan a few more orgasms as an afterthought, Logan was placed carefully in Remus’ arms and carefully sat down. “Ready for the last part?”

“Measure,” Logan reminded.

“Righty,” Remus summoned a tape measure and carefully measured just how big Logan had gotten, beaming with slight pride, “a bit bigger than last time. Now, you gotta either desummon em or push em.”

“Desummon,” Logan stated, feeling overwhelmed already.

“Aw, okay,” Remus pouted before desummoning the eggs. “You did well though, taking my clutch like that.”

“Mhm, I need a shower.” Logan moved to get up.

“Eugh, shower,” Remus complained but picked Logan up nonetheless, “did you have fun?”

“Of course.”

[beesincognito]

Perfect Strangers- part eight: The Galgaridons

Viktor x Fem!reader (SFW)

part seven part nine   (start here!)

Takes place before Arcane and works its way there, did my best to combine the different versions of lore. (nsfw in parts)

(you and Viktor meet on your first day at the academy and bond over being habitual, awkward loners. The story revolves around class issues and a sense of belonging mixed with lore and Arcane plot. The story will split at some point and you choose which ending you want to read.)

*no warnings for this part*

Word count: 6,660

******

You were home. The air was crisp, clear of fumes from factories and cars despite still being so close to the city. Walls of trees and fields of green separated you from the looming buildings and you were able to pretend it was more isolated than it really was. The home was more of a large estate, wings and fountains greeted any visitor that would arrive. At the request of your mother, the ivy that adorned the walls for a decade was being removed by landscapers when you had arrived. It had been damaging the walls, but you still missed how it looked. Now it was bare and dull despite the decorative architecture. 

     Your mother rushed over to you with her arms outstretched and hugged you tightly the moment you stepped out of the cab. Gladly accepting her embrace, you followed her inside when she carried one of your small bags for you. She chatted wildly about the dress she sent you and hoped you enjoyed wearing it at the gala as your father simply greeted you politely and asked how your studies were going. 

     “Oh dear, let her have a breather every once in a while. We already know she’s excelling in her studies,” she quipped at your father, guiding you away from his study that he always lurked around.

     Lying to protect her feelings felt better than disappointing her altogether so you made up a simple story of your time at the spring dance. Meeting imaginary patrons and students that you had smart conversations with and sparked connections that could be useful in the future. Your mother believed every word since she only accepted the best for her daughter. 

     Just like every end of term, you unpacked your boxes that had been shipped to your room. Usually you would only be there for a few days before returning to the academy district since it was so close to home anyways. 

******

At the dinner table you asked your parents what their surprise was. You knew it most likely meant traveling out of Piltover since they never called anything a surprise. They exchanged glances, silently debating if they should tell you exactly where you were all going, but decided against it.

     “You’ll just have to wait and see, but it’ll prepare you to join the family business once you’re ready,” your father waved his utensil at you and you just smiled back at him.

     “Alright, as long as I don’t actually have to work,” you took a bite of your food when your mother laughed at your response, implying that you most likely would try something out that involved working or at least communicating with business partners.

     It was too easy to figure out their plan without anything too specific. The location was a mystery, but the activity was obvious. You were most likely going out of town and visiting with another prominent company somewhere that you had never worked with before. Learning how to negotiate and build a relationship with other people for business was important in your family’s line of work since most of the things they built were foundational to a region. 

     That night in your room you slept like the dead.

******

Traveling in one of your own family trains felt special as the cart bumped against the tracks. You had your own private cart with its own dining area and small private rooms. It was a long trip with many stops since the train still had to pick up and drop off other passengers. On longer stops you got to at least admire the station to get a breath of fresh air. You passed through many barren landscapes mixed with cities that looked more broken and fortified at the same time. 

     It made your stomach drop when you finally figured out where you were going. You bursted through the doors to the dining room where your parents were enjoying a morning coffee.

     “We’re in Noxus,” you panted, feeling a heaviness in your shoulders.

     “You got us, dear,” your father held up a hand in a you caught us gesture and smiled at you. “Is it not exciting? Don’t worry, we're perfectly safe where we're heading.”

     Sweat beaded on your forehead as you tried to feign excitement, thinking about Caston. Just being in Noxus alone was a risk. You didn’t know much about it aside from what everyone else had told you and you wondered if it was wrong to assume. It was the same way your mother thought of Zaun so you wondered how she was allowing this trip to a war mongering place to begin with. 

     The rest of the train ride was quieter between the three of you. Your parents had no idea what had happened at school since you blamed your facial scars on an experiment gone wrong.

     At the train station in Noxus, you were met with a driver that guided you to a large and armored motorized carriage. His face was a permanent scowl despite how polite he was towards your family, holding your hand and your mothers to help you into the carriage. 

     The engine fired violently before the carriage began carrying you to what felt like your doom. You felt sick with nerves that twisted your stomach and made your past traumas surface against your will. 

     “Are you well, y/n?” your mother fawned over you, dapping your forehead with a handkerchief when you didn’t respond. “Motion sickness?”

     You longed for fresh air, but the carriage didn’t have any windows, only an orange light in the center of the ceiling that flickered every time the road bumped beneath you. Once it came to a stop you thanked your lucky stars, bursting out of the door before either of your parents had the chance to stand. The driver missed your hand when you hopped out onto the cobblestone surface that met the soles of your shoes with a hard thud. 

     It was colder than Piltover in Noxus at this time of year, apparently. It seemed like you were in a secluded box within towering walls. The fortress dwarfed your family home in Piltover, it was sharp and strong with the way its architecture commanded respect. You were unable to see the city beyond the height of the stone that encircled you. A large elaborate shield crest with a “G” adorned the face of the building above the door. 

     Staff stood on the doorsteps and ushered your family forward, guiding you through the front doors that shut with a loud clang of gears and locks once you were all inside. Your bags were carried away to rooms off upstairs. 

     A larger than life painting hung over a fireplace the size of a closet where a fire had smoldered into tiny embers. You froze, looking into the eyes of what looked to be a much younger Caston. 

     What were the fucking odds?

     Actually seeing him again never occurred to you as a possibility and it terrified you despite his letter you never told anyone about. It arrived long after the incident when you had been on the mend mentally. Stowing it away after reading it. It contained the secret of his soul and his grievances and how often he thought of you. Forgiveness was in your nature, but facing Caston after he nearly killed you in a drunken rage was more than a challenge. 

     “Handsome isn’t he?” an older woman approached your family in a tight, business styled, dress with deep red accents. She must have been the mistress of the house.

     Your mother responded instead, complimenting the woman on her son whom she knew nothing about. It prompted her to introduce you and you politely took her hand to greet her. She complimented your beauty, speaking of how strong willed you looked and that you must have been an excellent student just by the look in your eyes.

     If that look was anxiety and fear, she was right. 

     “House Galgaridon welcomes you and your family, we hope you enjoy the accommodations and we will all rejoin later at dinner in two hours, I apologize for my husband’s absence,” Mistress Galgaridon took your mother by the arm to walk your parents personally to their room, leaving you in the foyer with servants to babysit you.

     Sweat made you shift uncomfortably when it dampened the back of your neck. You followed a short man in a black suit up the stairs opposite from where your parents had walked up. In the room there was a large bed with long posts, curtains were tied up around the frame. Everything was simple, but elegant. Unlike the flowery romantic look of your family home. Instead the room felt cold with dark granite walls and tapestries, red rugs covered the stone floor that would otherwise have been like ice beneath your feet. 

     There was another painting above the fireplace opposite to your bed. It was more recent. Caston Galgaridon labeled in gold at the base of the painting confirmed the face you recognized instantly. He stood in a suit of dark Noxian armor. A large sword in hand was held out in front of him in adoration instead of being ready for combat. Red curtains decorated the background and a dragon’s skull sat at his feet. You couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out and running your fingers along the lines of the skull, feeling the way the paint was textured from each stroke.

     His face was changed from when you last saw him and his hair was cropped too short to see the curls anymore. Determined and serious, almost aged as if it had been a decade of war for him. 

     Since he was depicted as a Noxian soldier, you guessed he enlisted in the army instead of going back to school. He had failed to mention anything about enlisting in his letter you received unexpectedly before leaving school. It wasn’t your responsibility to worry about his future, but you couldn’t help but wonder if things could have been different. 

     Against your better judgment, you began snooping around the room. There was no way Caston used the space when his painting hung so high in such a gaudy manner on the wall. No one would have been vain enough to want to stare at themselves all night and day. You pulled open drawer after drawer. Finding most of them empty save for the writing desk that contained a stack of letters, notebooks, and a tally sheet with no labels. 

     The letters were addressed to you, but unsent and unsealed, still open and loose in a neat pile. You couldn’t stop yourself from reading as many as you could in the hours of privacy you had. They detailed his time in the army and how it changed him, how he wished he had never touched a drink or laid a hand on you. Regret seeped through the pages with his words and how he hoped you were doing well and able to move on despite the hurt he caused. 

     It made your body tremble with your nerves ablaze and terrified. You worried he was obsessed and what that meant for your safety in his domain despite all of the other bodies occupying the manor. 

     Disgruntled arguing broke your concentration and the large door swung open.

     “-a dozen rooms and you put her h-“ Caston froze when he saw you holding a letter and your eyes locked onto his. 

     He wasn’t angry towards you, instead his eyes softened. Apologizing for the intrusion and for not realizing you were in the room already, he politely backed out and closed the door gently. Refraining from engaging with you at all from the short distance between you both. The sound of his deep voice faded into the distance and you sank into the chair beside the desk, feeling your legs weaken. 

******

At dinner, Mistress Galgaridon assigned the seats, directing you to move next to Caston when his younger siblings arrived late for the meal. They all looked so different from him, the age gap separated them plus his tired and hardened face made him look older than you knew he was. You reluctantly left your mother’s side and joined him, sitting with a silent huff through your nose as he politely pushed your seat in under you.  

     When your parents and the mistress began exchanging pleasantries you refused the wine a server offered to pour into your glass. The same server skipped Caston, moving on to another guest without questioning him the same way they had with you. 

     Giving him a quick side glance you met his own awkward peak and you both looked away in a hurry. Bringing your water glass to your lips and gulping half of it down too quickly. 

     “I’m sorry for barging in on you earlier,” he whispered, still avoiding your gaze.

     “It’s… fine,” you mumbled, “I shouldn’t’ve been reading your letters.”

     “They were for you… even if I never sent them,” he cleared his throat and fidgeted with his utensil on the table instead of eating.

     The rest of the hall was boisterous with conversation that you both excluded yourselves from. 

     “Is this your doing?” you questioned him quietly, holding back the bite in your words. “I’m sure the timing of that letter was no coincidence since I’m here now.”

     “My parents were looking for a collaborator and I remembered your family business,” he answered sheepishly with hunched shoulders, “I didn’t think they’d bring you. I’m sorry.” 

     You didn’t accept the apology out loud, trying to take a bite of food instead. It was delicious, but your anxiety induced nausea stopped you from continuing. 

     “What was the tally sheet?” you couldn’t stop yourself from being curious. He was practically a different person. The cocky and flashy personality was gone and in its place was this quiet stranger.

     “Days sober,” he swallowed his food, turning his head and keeping it low, “everything you had time to read is true.”

     With your curiosity satisfied and your stomach unable to take another bite, you excused yourself from the table. Caston stood and watched you leave which drew the attention of both of your parents. He sat when he saw his mother eying him with interest, waiting out the rest of the meal in silence. 

******

In your room you exited the large double doors, stepping out onto a balcony that overlooked the walls. The city had a commanding presence and there was a raven perched on the wall opposite from you. Even in the distance you could see the redness of its eyes glowing in the night. All six of them. You shuddered at the sight of it and promptly returned to the room, sitting at the writing desk and finishing the letters. Leaving the notebooks and tally sheet untouched.

     “y/n?” you heard Caston’s low voice on the opposite side of the large ornamental wooden door.

     A lump formed in your throat, unwilling to answer his hushed call. Fear still cooled your nerves to ice, unmoving in a form of self preservation even though he could open the door himself at any time. The longer you waited the more you began to sweat again. Eventually you heard his footsteps calmly leave, tapping gently against the stone floor in the hallway and then the thud of a door opening and closing not too far off. 

     His room must have been close to yours. It didn’t bother you as much as you thought since nothing was more terrifying than being in a room alone with him so soon after your reunion, which would have happened if you answered him. 

     Another knock came after a long period of silence, this time the voice of a younger woman came through so you rose and opened the door slowly. In her hands was a tray with a teapot, a ceramic cup, and a small covered bowl. 

     “Young master Galgaridon asked me to bring you this,” she smiled, walking past you swiftly when you moved aside for her. 

     She lit a small candle under the burner, placing the teapot on top with a soft clink of the sturdy ceramic. With a towel, she grabbed the handle of the lid on the bowl and lifted it to reveal a light soup. The aroma was delightful and you were keen to try it once your stomach growled in response. 

     You thanked her and told her you needed nothing else on her way out.

     “Oh wait, I was also asked to give you this,” she turned on her heels and handed you a folded and sealed letter before curtsying, leaving you alone once again.

     Knowing yourself better than anyone, you set the letter aside to read after finishing your food. Whatever was written could wait and you didn’t want more nerves stopping you from getting a proper meal that day. 

     The taste of the familiar tea almost brought tears to your eyes, wondering why Caston would remember something so small as your regular order. You sipped it gratefully once your meal was finished, sitting back in the large soft chair and staring at the letter in your grip. 

     With the flick of your finger you broke the wax seal. He must have sealed it to stop the maid from getting too nosy and reading it, and you wouldn’t have blamed her for her curiosity either. 

Please know I will make myself scarce while your family is here if that is your wish. I am on leave from my military duties, but at your word I will return. Words cannot express the anguish I have felt all these years after what I did to you. Your forgiveness is all I can beg for and I will still accept that you may never grace me with it. 

There is a rope by your bed, pull it whenever you need something and a maid will come in case you never want to leave your room while you’re staying here. Though it would be a shame to be locked away for two weeks on my account.

I assure you, I’m not the same man you knew. 

-Caston

     Holding the letter with a trembling hand you lowered it into your lap. A weight seemed to lift from your chest. Yet the damage was still there, somewhere in the pit of your stomach when the memories would come unannounced, but time dulled it especially with the closure of seeing him again as a different man. 

     You were tempted to respond, but thought better of it, not wanting to open that door just yet. Sure he seemed different in every way. Waiting until more time had passed between you seemed best.

******

The next day you wished to remain in your room, much to the detriment of your father that insisted you at least sit in on the opening discussions. He ushered you out of your seat where you were comfortably reading. Begrudgingly following him out into the hallway. Listening to him begin lecturing you about the nature of business and how you needed to build a relationship with your clients in order to get what you wanted out of each other. It sounded shallow coming from him, but you ignored that feeling, trying to wake yourself up. 

     Feeling underdressed was an understatement when you entered the library where Caston sat with his parents and your mother at a large wooden table.

     Caston and his father stood when you entered, stiff and regal in their black military uniforms. Your mother and mistress Galgaridon were both in simple classy dresses and you got a disapproving look from your mother when she looked you up and down. 

     Ignoring the simplicity of your outfit, corduroy pants and a tucked in button up shirt, you let your father push your chair in beside Caston. Everyone was seated and settled in. Discussions began and you tried to listen intently, committing the way your parents spoke to memory in case this was really your future. 

     The Galgaridons had a vested interest in assisting their country’s military efforts and were in the middle of renovating a dilapidated factory where they wanted to forge an arsenal and armor. It was not a topic you heavily favored or would want to support as a business venture, but with Caston sitting beside you, you kept your opinions to yourself. You respected his view on how the army changed him and it took effort to keep the peace. 

     The discussions met a good place to break and your parents were offered to take a look at the factory to see what they would have to work with once the builders were finished with renovations. 

     “Caston, please show her around the manor and be a good host while we’re gone,” Master Galgaridon chuckled and left with your parents. 

     “But-“ Caston began to protest, but one sharp look from his mother silenced him and he held his hands behind his back. Following orders like a good soldier even if it was just a request from his parents. 

     You both watched everyone leave, even the butler that had been standing by in the corner of the room. It was deadly silent in the library where bookshelves towered over you. You couldn’t help but stare at the spines of the books, trying to read the titles with the temptation to pick them up and flip through their pages. 

     “You’re allowed,” he tilted his head towards you, noticing your hungry eyes.

     “To what?”

     “Read. The library is yours to roam,” he gave you space and stepped away to push in the chairs everyone left untucked. “But in case my mother asks you about our home, please bear with me on this tour. I’ll make it quick.” 

     Shrugging your shoulders in acceptance, you clasped your hands together and followed him out of the library. You let him tell you about the halls and rooms you passed through, detailing how old his home was and how his family occupied it for generations. Statues and art caught your attention as always. Lingering around the art, he let you take your time and enjoy the moments alone with your thoughts

     “Your family seems to love preserving themselves,” you commented when you stopped by a copper bust of Caston.

     “My mother insists on it,” he grimaced at the copy staring back at him with furrowed brows. He rubbed at his own real brow in the realization that he often scowled so it was no wonder that’s how the artists depicted him.

     “So does my father,” you remembered sitting for a new painter every few years in uncomfortable dresses, often holding objects that meant nothing to you, but resembled status for the family. 

     “How are you feeling?” he whispered as a maid crossed your path in a large military memorial room adorned with weapons, suits of armor, and relics from conquests. 

     “About the room?” you feigned ignorance to the true nature of his question.

     “About being around me… I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he stopped his hand from reaching out to your sleeve when he thought of holding you back from walking off further into the room ahead of him.

     “Caston I can’t do this if you’re going to bring it up every chance you get,” you turned hotly on your heels. Approaching him with a confidence you didn’t know you had until that moment and pointed a stern finger in his face. “You don’t scare me anymore and what happened can't be undone so give it a rest already. I got your letters, I got your message at dinner, I got all of your friendly gestures sent by the maids last night from bringing me books to checking on me way too much! If you hoped for more I’d better retire to my room and be alone until the trip is over.” Your chest huffed when you were finished with bombarding him, lowering your finger and feeling rather satisfied with yourself. 

     Caston stood there looking down at you with bewilderment and held back an old familiar smirk.

     “I want for nothing anymore, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he apologized in a low voice, paying attention to who might have been nearby listening. “It’s nice to see you come out of your shell.”

     Waving him onwards wordlessly, he continued guiding you through the manor and made quick work of it. When the tour was finished you were led back to the library where he left you to your own devices after recommending a few sections to peruse. 

     You watched him leave, carefully pulling a large volume about the history of Noxus from a shelf he had not recommended for light reading. It made sense for you to broaden your horizons about the world you lived in instead of living off of the opinions of others and rumors that were thrown around. All your life you knew Noxus was an uncivilized dangerous place to be, yet here you were with your family on a business trip. Obviously not all places in Noxus were as safely locked away as House Galgaridon. It made sense that only the strong could survive in comfort and why Caston ended up the way he did, not that it excused his behavior. 

     The history book was filled with wars and a constant struggle for power, ruthless bloodshed in the name of Noxus. 

     You made it about halfway through the book before nightfall came and a maid arrived to light the fireplace. Since you didn’t send for her you assumed the staff were keeping tabs on you and knew you hadn’t moved from where he left you earlier that day. Trying to finish the book in the library was growing more difficult with the darker it became. Not from the darkness and being unable to see the words on the paper, because the fire was bright enough. Rather it was because you felt exposed in the cavernous library where every shift of your clothing against the material of the seat would echo. It was also getting colder despite the fire. 

     Holding the book to your chest you made your way back to your room and were quickly lost in the maze of halls. It must have been the private corridors the maids and other staff used to go about the manor unnoticed. You continued down a long narrow hall, feeling the cracks in the stone with your fingertips and listening to the scrape of your shoes against the wood. Soon there was no light at all and you thought of turning back when another pair of footsteps approached you in the darkness. A deafness came over your ears as the sound of the footsteps competed with your racing heart and you quickly walked back in the opposite direction.

     A strong hand gripped your arm and you yelped. 

     “It’s me. Sorry for the scare,” Caston’s deep voice surprisingly put you at ease, his grip was gentle and careful to not hurt you. “I was coming to get you, everyone is back and I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

     “I’m sorry I-“ you held your hand in front of your face and couldn’t make out anything, “I took a wrong turn somewhere. Once the sun finished setting, these halls became pitch black. How does anyone get around in these long stretches of nothing at night?”

     His quiet deep chuckle echoed against the stone and down the hall. You felt his fingers carefully cup your spare hand and place it in the crook of his elbow. “You get used to it, but that’s why we keep them empty,” he began to walk, slower than he usually would in the shadow. 

     With your eyes unnaturally wide you continued to stare into the black, waiting to see even the tiniest glimmer of light as your feet made the only noise. When Caston came to a stop you worried for a moment before he pushed a wooden door open. It had been a foot away from your face, but you didn’t even notice until the light from the main hall flooded the passageway. Squinting your eyes against the light, even though it came from dim candles, you noticed you were back by the door of your room. 

     “We didn’t take any turns did we?” you asked, taking your hand back from his arm and stepping towards your door. 

     “No, but you did at some point before I found you,” he gave a subtle bow, “I’ll have someone collect you in an hour for dinner if you’d like to join us.”

     You nodded, earning a soft smile from him in return. Shutting the door to your room once he left, you noticed the room was warm. Spending the hour reading more of the history book instead of changing into something more appropriate, you enjoyed the blazing fire as the heat kissed away the chill from your bare feet. The soft chair and reading table had  been pushed up to the fireplace in your absence.

     Having so many staff members in one home seemed excessive and you could never imagine growing comfortable letting people dote on your every need. A simpler life was what you craved, even your family home felt excessive at times once you experienced dorm living in the academy district of Piltover. 

     Thinking of Piltover made you wistful. Feeling Viktor’s absence and realizing how much you missed him after only a week of being gone since most of the trip had been the train ride up to Noxus. Viktor was most likely enjoying his vacation just fine, visiting your usual haunts alone ranging from the library, the café, or even the art store he occasionally stopped by with you. Imagining him relaxing put a smile on your face. You decided to write him a letter, telling him about the trip so far and letting him know you were safe despite the unexpected situation you landed in. 

     It was lengthy and word heavy, but you missed him so much you wrote the same way you would talk to him if he was sitting there in the room with you. You imagined how the trip would have gone if he accepted your invitation. The tension between him and Caston was something you hated to think of and felt relieved he wanted to stay behind and just work. 

     When you finished, you borrowed Caston’s stationary supplies from the writing desk to seal it with the only crest that was there. Lighting the candle with a match and holding the red wax over the flame, watching it swirl and melt in the golden ladle. Viktor was none the wiser on what the crest meant until he read the letter so there were no worries about it being tossed or not making it to him at all. 

     Once his name and the school address was penned on the folded wad of paper, you stuffed it into your pocket. Unsure of who to ask to mail it, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask Caston at dinner which was not far off. 

     The knock of a maid at the door broke your train of thought, thoughts of the trip back being too far away and getting to see Viktor again. 

     You followed her to the dining room, feeling calmer than the previous night and looking forward to the meal. This time you took your seat next to Caston willingly, letting him push your chair in again. 

     “Who would I talk to about sending mail?” you whispered, allowing him to lean into your bubble to hear you. 

     “Any of the staff, or I could give it to them if you’re not comfortable asking,” he held his hand out and you slipped the letter against his palm. His eyes read the name. If it stirred anything negative in him, nothing gave his feelings away. “I know it’s not my place to pry, but how is he?” he asked, it sounded genuine, as he carefully tucked the letter into his dress jacket. 

     “Um… he’s got some pain here and there,” you admitted, lifting your utensil to take a bite, “but he manages.”

     “I’m sorry to hear that,” he straightened his back, “I’ll make sure this gets out tonight,” he assured you, tilting his head towards you as you both continued with your meals after you thanked him. 

******

Caston was true to his word when your confirmation arrived in the response letter that was slipped under your door the following week. It was folded neatly and lacked a wax seal, but looked relatively undisturbed considering the length it must have traveled to get there. You were giddy unfolding it, overly excited to read whatever Viktor wrote even if it was a few meager lines. 

     Instead it was much like your letter to him, two pages stacked on top of each other made up the folded wad of paper and you read them front to back. Picturing everything he detailed about his work in the lab and getting accepted as a teaching assistant for the following semester. On top of that he listed books he treated himself to, and some surprises for you, from the second hand shop outside of the academy district. Meeting people in the aisles that talked enthusiastically about the books and their contents or complaining about the lack of organization on the shelves. The little successes of getting strangers outside of the academy to laugh at his dry humor were a joy to read about.

     His descriptions of the city and how refreshing it was now that the weather was turning and the chill was setting in made you miss home. The last of the flowers from summer were beginning to wilt so the school greenhouse brought their plants in before the frost set. Apparently he went days at a time without visiting the lab which you were glad to hear just knowing he was taking time to himself. Even learning that he was trying his hand at art that didn’t involve mechanical designs made your aching heart flutter. 

     You imagined him sitting outside with the first snow in the city, drawing on a sketch pad and content.

     He expressed many concerns about your situation, wishing you could return to the academy at once for your own safety, but trusted your intuition to keep yourself safe.

     There was a line about how he wasn’t sure about the flora that was in Noxus, but he thought you would appreciate a little piece of home. A tiny pressed white flower from the academy green room was tucked neatly between the pages. You touched it gingerly with your fingertips, not wanting to damage the delicate petals. Unexpected tears pooled in your eyes once you finished reading his letter, missing him so much seemed irrational and made you feel something awful inside. 

     Getting out of bed that day was impossible despite the maid’s best efforts. You kept your bed curtain closed and wrestled with the pull to sleep and her persistent visitations to try and rouse you.

     You figured you deserved a day of complete rest and isolation and you explained it to your mother when she eventually gave in and visited you when a staff member asked for her assistance. 

     “I’ve been participating in business meetings for days mother,” you insisted, “please let me have this one day to do nothing. I don’t want to see anyone else today,” you begged her from your warm cocoon of plush blankets. 

     She lovingly petted your unkempt hair, her reassuring smile let you know you had gotten your way with her for once. She kissed your forehead and let you rest which you were unbelievably grateful for. 

     Pulling out Viktor’s letter, you read it a few more times between naps and walking around the room in your pajamas. Feeling free and not needing to impress or entertain anyone. 

******

On the last day in Noxus, you let Caston show you the grounds outside the back of the manor. It was a lush garden, packed with all kinds of plants as they competed for space and attention. There were flowers of many deep and dark colors that you lingered by, listening to the hum of the city beyond the protective barrier that surrounded you. Despite the noise, there was a peace in the garden that even the safety of your room hadn’t given you. 

     Your conversation with him was light and the responses between you were brief. After spending so many days together the tension was eased enough to be friendly acquaintances once more. Similar to how it felt when you were just classmates, still strangers to the kind of people you were outside of a formal setting back then. 

     Prying questions from your mother over the course of your stay made you open up to her at least a little, only letting her know you and Caston dated, but ended on poor terms. She didn’t need to know anymore.

     Even his parents hadn’t a clue about your history with their son, instead they made jokes about how you two should date. Awkward laughs were all either of you were able to muster before losing yourselves in a thousand yard stare. 

     “I don’t regret our time together,” you told him from where you were kneeling among the flowers when he was facing away from you. 

     Standing rigidly against the bright sun with his eyes closed, basking in its warmth. His eyelids blinked a few times in surprise at your words. Since you scolded him the previous week he had respected your wishes and avoided speaking of the dirty laundry that was the end of your relationship. 

     “We don’t have to talk about it, y/n,” he was frozen in place, his broad back still facing you. 

     “Now I want to,” you sat back into the grass, “I don’t want you to keep punishing yourself for what happened.”

     You saw his shoulders tremble when his head dropped to his chest. 

     “Your face… you have to see it in the mirror everyday… the scars,” his voice caught in his throat, “This is your pain, not mine. Please don’t worry about me, I don’t deserve your pity.” 

     “I don’t pity you.”

     “Good.”

     “Would you have killed me… if I didn’t escape?” you asked without thinking. It was cruel, but your curiosity got the better of you with your guard lowered.

     He finally turned, his face was contorted with anguish.

     “I know you probably won’t believe me, but I don’t remember everything that happened,” he admitted. “I just remember the enforcers, the arrest… perhaps I would have.”

     With a thud, he knelt beside you and pulled up his sleeves. Long scars trailed up his forearms where you remembered scratching him that night. 

     “I barely remember you doing this,” his voice cracked.

     In the privacy of the garden you both sat in silence, holding back tears and sniffling against the breeze when the tension began to dissipate once more. You apologized for bringing it up after you scolded him for doing the same, but you appreciated the honesty regardless. In an attempt to mitigate the pain, you both talked about the good times before his jealousy took over. He reminisced about your dates and the first time you kissed.

     “You should go back to school,” you suggested. “I know the academy isn’t the only place you could go.”

     “I serve my nation, just as my parents did,” he leaned on his hands, letting his head hang back.

     “You’re trying to get yourself killed and you know it,” you gave him a pointed look which he ignored. “Please go to school.”

     “I can’t just leave the army,” he explained, “I’d be a deserter. A traitor. I have to finish the time I’ve committed to serve.” 

     Nodding your head reluctantly in agreement you waited for time to pass before you had to leave. Most likely not seeing him again for a long time once you boarded the train back to Piltover.

******

Thanks for making it to the end! :)

[doctors-star]

before the beginning

“Are you quite sure?” he says, trying not to look around at the house in case his glances should look doubtful. Unfortunately, he simply is somewhat doubtful of the wisdom of this idea; happy as he is for Peter to be surrounded by other people for the uncertain length of time he will be out in Herefordshire, the May household is already a large one and the May house is not. Peter is already looking slightly daunted by the noise and debris left by various young women between the ages of fifteen and twenty-two, and he’s barely made it past the front door. For good reason does Lesley usually visit them at the Folly, rather than the other way around. And then, of course, there is Molly at home with the dog, probably too well-trained to be cursing their names, but entirely possibly slightly distraught at being left alone. In truth, he is a little distressed at leaving her. It has, after all, been some time since he last did.

“Oh, yes,” Lesley’s mother says cheerfully, weaving in amongst the chaos with expert familiarity to deposit Peter’s bags on the stairs, ready to take the next person to come downstairs out at the ankles. “I’d hate to think of him rattling around in that big place on his own, and he’s a good lad. It’ll be lovely to have him over.”

“We’ll look after him,” Lesley’s dad says - a little wryly, like he too can see the madness that has been made of his home - and claps Peter on the shoulder in a display of manly solidarity. Peter manages a smile, but little enthusiasm; Lesley just rolls her eyes.

“Well, I do appreciate it,” Nightingale says, tucking his amusement into the corner of his mouth where only Peter and Lesley can see it. Peter narrows his eyes, aware he is being laughed at, but his mouth compresses against a grin all the same. “It shouldn’t be for very long, anyway.”

“I should hope not!” Lesley’s mother says, catching Lesley’s head in passing and crushing her close to press a kiss to her head. Lesley squirms uselessly but ultimately must submit to this display of parental affection; Peter looks at him suspiciously, as though to ward off any similar instincts in him. They are neither of them very tactile, even less so now as Peter gets older, but sometimes he does envy Mrs May for her easy affection. “You fetch those girls home, and you’ll be back before we know you’re gone. Peter, I’m putting you in Tanya’s room; Lesley, Tanya’s in with you. I’ll go and make up the beds.”

“Mum!” Lesley objects sharply, unfolding from her slouch against the wall to stare after her retreating mother at this abject betrayal; her father, wisely, beats a hasty retreat towards the living room, leaving them all in the hallway to say goodbye. Lesley huffs enormously. “I don’t know why everyone’s worried about you,” she says to Peter mutinously. “You get your own room.”

Peter holds up his hands defensively. “It’s not my fault. You’re not pinning Tanya’s inevitable demise on me.”

Lesley folds her arms and looks up at Nightingale. “I refuse to be held responsible either,” he says quickly.

“Then don’t be long,” she replies darkly, which is probably the closest he’s going to get to affection from Lesley these days - she’s going through a rather grumpy phase at present.

“As you like,” he says mildly. “Right - the sooner I go, the sooner I’ll get back. Be good,” he tells Peter, more from some kind of parental instinct than any expectation otherwise; Peter rolls his eyes. “Call me if you need anything; I really shouldn’t be long. Don’t let Lesley kill her sisters.”

“You never let me do anything,” Lesley says, trying to hide a grin.

“I know. Look after yourselves.” And then there’s really nothing more to say, except goodbye.

“Good luck,” Peter offers. “You - look after yourself too. See you in a bit, then.”

And then Nightingale reaches out to squeeze his shoulder bracingly, but doesn’t quite make it. Peter ducks in underneath his arm, snakes one arm around his waist, and leans into his side in a sort of half-hug, half-tackle. Nightingale manages to coordinate his arm into wrapping around Peter’s shoulders quickly enough for a brief squeeze before the boy pulls away, resolutely refusing to make eye contact.

“Right. Bye then,” Peter says, still looking anywhere but at Nightingale.

Lesley tips her chin at him in a sort of salute, grinning at Peter’s behaviour.

“Bye, then,” he says, and smiles all the way to the M40.

[justanechoflower-ddlc]

(Classic misreading on Flowey’s part. I guess it’s harder to read people when you haven’t reloaded and seen their responses to everything over and over again. If only he knew Yuri still didn’t know about the game, and that this was about change in general, not about grudges. It’s the future that was described as sickening by the narrator, not the past! And Yuri literally just went over how it’d be better to move on anyway. Plus Yuri hasn’t tried to kill Monika yet, so that should be a big hint she either doesn’t know, or doesn’t hold that kind of grudge… so as long as Flowey doesn’t let slip he’s killed people, he’ll be fine… If he does though he’ll look like a murderer and she’ll think everyone Flowey killed is still dead. But it should be easy to not talk about the times he killed people! And better for him, if he specifically says he killed monsters, it’ll be assumed he was talking about killing monsters in a game he played, since monsters aren’t real in DDLC’s world. Just don’t say you killed PEOPLE, Flowey. And the poem’s message is about the “ghost” only comforting herself with the past when progress changes everything, and the fear of change that comes from the future. And as Yuri points out, it’s better off to move on from the old past, as it’s fading away anyway. And it’s not as bad as it looks. The future tends to be better than the past. It just takes getting used to.)

(But I guess this is what happens when someone used to having hundreds of resets of experience meets new people in a new world.)

(And yeah fair enough. If it turns out I’m still wrong I’ll just blame it on it being a variant, and if I do catch an error, it‘ll come into play when the metanarrative of this not technically being the actual game becomes more relevant.)

*Monika’s currently “reading” the poem as well. Mostly as an excuse to who she seems focused on something…*

#Well… for all Natsuki and Yuri are concerned, Mt. Ebott doesn’t exist. But fair enough, we can pass it off as you saying you’ll find some other way to be rich to hire people when you’re president. Anyway, since you said you WILL be rich, implying you’re not YET, I’d say you can bring the gold once you’ve “became rich”. There’s a reason why I haven’t been spawning in gold myself… although I’m not sure whether or not the gold will even end up here… your game treats gold as some abstract quantity… I guess that’s up to the exact relation between our games… and however the magic this ”Nat” person that helped turn you human works… And in case you wondering, no, I can’t just give you the kind of gold in Undertale. Because of that issue with your game being written in a different language than my game, this game’s console isn’t compatible with your file, so I can’t just add 1 million gold to your inventory… I can’t edit your file at all, actually. I can only move it around, copy it, like I did to make your backup… that’s about it.

#As for Yuri knowing the truth anyway… Hmm… You know, I can see why you’d think that. I mean, in your world, there’s deja-vu moments where even those who don’t have the ability to reset still feel like they can remember previous moments. But, well, she’s still engaging with the literature club as much as usual, and she was fine with me coming to the club. I don’t think that’s what’s going on… I find it rather unlikely she worked it out when we never mentioned this being a game or anything close to that, even as a joke, and shows no signs whatsoever of knowing, or even that she doesn’t like me or Sayori. Also, this is the same poem she wrote in the first timeline, well before Sayori had the epiphany, and before I got anyone killed. Although I do understand your worry… because it would be bad news if she knew, didn’t like me and Sayori, and for whatever reason is pretending she does like us and there’s nothing wrong…

Monika:I do hope the future will prove to be better than it looks. I’m confident it will, you did point out how that’d generally the case.

Sayori:Monika’s right! We have a new club member, the one who inspired this club, and she’s amazing!

Natsuki:Maybe you guys shouldn’t assume the narrator is supposed to be Yuri herself?! But hey, if it’s true, yeah, I have to agree. Though what past memory or change could this even be about anyway? I don’t think the narrator’s Yuri, any more than the narrator of Amy Likes Spiders is me!

Yuri:Who the narrator is? I didn’t think much of that. It could be anyone who‘s nostalgic and sees what the times they remember fading away into the terrifying future… But as I said before, that’s an unstable way of living. If you keep trying to live in the comfort of the past, when the past is fading away, eventually there’ll be nothing left. The future may be different, but it has its own good parts. And as Monika pointed out, the future tends to be better than the past, even if we don’t think so. I do appreciate your words of encouragement regardless. Even I sometimes fall pray to nostalgic thinking, after all…

(Yep, Yuri assumed “Buttercup” got it right and didn’t mean something completely different. The signs point to the truth, but it’s still possible for someone to see it as Yuri brushing aside the problem… even though that’s not what’s going on... While it’d be ironic if Flowey turned his fears into a self-fulfilling prophecy, I don’t feel like being THAT mean to Flowey, Monika, and Sayori… and besides, there are much more seemingly reasonable explanations on why he didn’t include Natsuki on the list of people who hoped Yuri could move on than “Buttercup, Monika and Sayori all did something really bad and Buttercup is hoping I stop being mad at them.” Like “Sayori and Monika seemed most supportive this meeting so Buttercup’s most likely to send hopes in their name than Natsuki’s.”)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

/#It’s annoying to think I was so wrong! That never happens. Yet at the same time I guess it’s better to be wrong in this case… we still have to reveal everything eventually. The only problem is to figure out how to break the news gently.

(As tempting as it is to see what would happen if Flowey did give them away, that would be a lot of trouble I am not willing to figure out how to solve. So he won’t be slipping up with his words too bad as far as I am planning and more importantly he will definitely not be trying to murder anyone for precaution especially now considering that he understands there is no threat.)

(Also I find it kinda funny how Monika and Sayori have already been “all-powerful beings who control the whole school.” just in a different way than he’s trying to say, lol. I only meant originally to make Flowey sound dramatic and over-hyping everything about his evil master plan, but it turns out to be not so far off after all!)