#angst with bad ending

[icycoldninja]

Hey, love your DMC fanfics, can I request DMC5 Dante with sweet and kind s/o in her twenties, meeting fem reader parents who are really strict, conservative and lil abusive especially the reader's mother. They have weird ideas of purity for women and are very patriarchal.

Hello, hope you're well. Thank you very much, I am more than honored that you enjoy my writing. I am afraid to say that I have chosen to omit several aspects of your request as I wish for this blog and all material posted on it to remain free from political and social reform-related biases. In order to preserve the intended mood of the piece, I have replaced the aforementioned omitted material with synonymous themes, as needed. I understand that this may be disappointing to you, and for that, I apologize. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this fanfiction and that you have a fruitful and productive day. Thank you for your patience and leniency.

Terrible idea (DMC5! Dante x Fem!Abused!Reader)

TW: Controlling parents, violence, and implications of physical abuse incoming; if you are uncomfortable with these themes, DNI.

-‐---------------------------------------------------‐-------------------------

You sighed, resting your cheek on your palm as you stared out the car window, absently watching the blurred scenery rush by. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your hands felt clammy; you couldn't believe this was actually happening.

For context, today was the day Dante had agreed to meet your your parents. Normally, this would be a joyous occasion, but in this case, it was terrifying because your parents were less than pleasant, to say the least. They hated the idea of you leaving their (abusive) household so much, they did everything they could to make your relationships--be they friendships or otherwise--crumble. At first, they'd attempted to keep you isolated, but now you had a job, and therefore, your own house, which was conveniently far, far away from theirs, so there was nothing they could do. Their only remaining tactic was to embarrass you and insult anyone you brought to see them until your guest left, either in disgust or awkwardness. The only reason Dante lasted as long as he did was because he'd never met them--you'd kept their existence a secret from him and his existence from them up until this point.

You hadn't wanted to bring Dante to meet them, but he'd insisted. Because his parents weren't alive anymore, he was unable to introduce you to them; to make up for it, he'd meet your parents instead. You never told him how horrible your folks were, however, and were seriously regretting it now, but he was so excited--you just couldn't burst his bubble like that. Maybe, hopefully, things would go well today.

"Hey, babe, you OK?" Dante asked, briefly glancing in your direction.

"Yeah," You sighed, turning and smiling at him.

"You sure? You don't sound ok."

"I...I'm fine, don't worry."

"Ok...well...we're almost there, according to the GPS."

You nodded, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, not really sure what to say. You honestly didnt want to be going to your parents' house; Dante didn't need to get involved in your family issues any more than he needed to.

"Come on, I see that frown. You can tell me if something's wrong, y'know," Dante encouraged, patting your shoulder.

"There's nothing wrong," You responded, forcing another smile. "I'm fine." Dante would have pursued the conversation, but there was a sharp turn coming up that he needed to focus on. Once he rounded the curve, you spotted the a building in the distance; a familiar building that you recognized as your parents house; the building that had never been your home.

"This your folks' place?" Dante asked, and when you nodded, a big grin broke out on his face. It was clear he was excited to meet those who had "raised" you. It was a shame he had no idea how awful they truly were. "Alright," He exclaimed, grinning, "Let's go meet the people that raised my angel!" He flung the car door open and bounded out out it, with you slowly following suit. Poor Dante. He had no idea what waited for him there, and it was all because of your weakness. Now that you were literally on the threshold of hell itself, you felt so upset with yourself for not warning him earlier; for being so selfish and keeping the truth a secret from him. You were sure that after today, he wouldn't want to be with you anymore, and so, you decided to simply accept your fate and get on with it; maybe the day would pass by quicker if you pretended to enjoy it.

Your anxiety and fear reaching its peak, you rung the doorbell and waited for the door to swing open; waited to be greeted with the frowning faces of those horrible monsters you couldn't believe you called your parents.

Sure enough, the door creaked open, and you were met with your mother, a scowl plastered across her wrinkling face.

"Y/N," She greeted, stiffly, prompting you to force a smile.

"Good afternoon, mother." Your mother then turned her attention to Dante and narrowed her eyes at him.

"And who's this?"

"My...umm....my..." You words died in your throat; your mother's scrutinizing gaze silencing you. You sighed, folding your arms and averting your gaze. Thinking you were just too excited to function properly, Dante eagerly piped up and finished your sentence.

"I'm her man, name's Dante, nice to meet ya!" He stuck his hand out, expecting your mother to shake it, but she did no such thing.

"What? A boyfriend? Are you crazy? We told you never to get a boyfriend--you don't deserve one! " She yelled, her piercing, fiery gaze directed on you. "Answer me, girl, what were you thinking?!" You couldn't. You felt like there was a burning lump in your throat, preventing you from speaking. If you did, you were sure you would cry. You knew this was a bad idea. What were you thinking indeed, coming here and bringing Dante with you? Clearly angry at your lack of a response, your mother crossed over to you and slapped you across the face. "What has gotten into you, child? How dare you disobey us and bring this filthy troll to our doorstep?! How dare you?!" Suddenly, your mother seized you by the arm and began beating you with her bony, yet painful fists; his vise-like grip keeping you in place even though you screamed in pain and tried to get away.

"Stop it, let go of her!" Shouted Dante, forcing your mother away and standing between the two of you. You sobbed, clinging onto his arm as you desperately tried to wipe away your tears.

"Get out of my way, you have no right to stand between me and my daughter!"

"She ain't your daughter if you hit her like that--the hell you thinking?! What was that even for?!"

"Shut the fuck up, you worthless loser," Retorted your mother, spitefully. "You have no right telling me how to parent my child.

"She's not your child if you treat her like this," Dante said, coldly. "Come on, babe, let's get outta here." He wrapped his arm around you and tried to guide you away, but you remained still.

"I'm sorry, Dante," You said, still crying. "I shouldn't have dragged you into this. I'm so, so sorry--I should have told you about them sooner."

"And what's that supposed to mean, young lady?!" Demanded your father, striding into view in his usual stained shirt. "And who the fuck is this?"

"Her boyfriend," Growled your mother, turning her nose up in disgust. "A bad influence, too." Your father grunted, roughly grabbing your wrist and jerking you towards the house.

"That's easily taken care of. Get outta here, loser, you'll never see my daughter again." You turned and looked at the angry expression on Dante's face, wishing you had the strength to stand up for yourself and break free. Unfortunately, you didn't; you were too afraid to do anything. You could only watch as your horrible parents dragged you inside their house of horrors and slammed the doors in your boyfriend's face.

Once again, you found yourself questioning your thought processes that led you to set foot within a 40 mile radius of your parents' lair.

You knew it; you felt it in your bones and your gut, but you did it anyway.

You were such an idiot.

This really was a terrible idea.

[peskybirdysya]

recommend me angst,like pure angst

put garlic and chili on my eyes

[chloesimaginationthings]

The ending of FNAF sister location

[incoherentchanting]

this shit is so funny

[stevebabey]

pre-steddie (its rly scratching the itch atm), steve harrington being a sad drunk :(, angst with a happy ending, 1.4k

If you asked him how it transpired, Eddie couldn’t tell you — but somehow, there’s a drunk Steve Harrington on the Munson’s couch.

Physically, he’d hazard a guess Steve walked all the way from whatever party he’d been at. Which is a concern in itself—either Steve wandered through the woods or he wandered quite some way, but that’s a whole other can of worms.

The why of why Steve’s here—why he chose to sought out Eddie in particular—is another mystery altogether.

If Eddie had to guess, he’d say somewhere between the commonality of crashing at each other’s place to keep the nightmares at bay and a night of drinking is how Steve ended up here.

It’s nearing midnight the clock tells him, blinking red from the microwave. Steve’s holding a glass of water that he’s sipped from only once.

And he’s sad.

Considering it, Eddie hadn’t thought Steve would be a sad drunk. Especially if you consider the sheer amount of parties he threw as a teenager.

It just doesn’t quite fit into his ever changing picture of Steve Harrington. Like a puzzle piece the wrong shape that doesn’t fit with the rest. Happy drunk? Horny drunk? Those made better sense than this.

But then again, Eddie stopped trying to make sense of Steve a couple months after the Vecna-episode of their lives.

(It’s sort of something he really likes about Steve, that he can’t ever really pin him down — that he’s always surprising Eddie.)

Either way, the fact remains that Steve is drunk and Steve is sad.

Eddie just doesn’t know about what.

“C’mon,” Eddie nudges the glass in Steve’s hand gently, the second time tonight. “Gotta drink up, Stevie, lest you risk the wrath of tomorrow’s hangover.”

Steve’s slumped sideways on the couch, not too drunk to be out of it, but evidently rather physically beat. He’s leaning his head up against the ratty leather of the couch, his eyes closed.

Eddie sits opposite him, enough distance to keep it friendly, but close enough to catch the glass if Steve suddenly decides he doesn’t feel like holding it anymore.

He wants to sit closer, wants to maybe even hold Steve’s hand. Cup his face and murmur sweet nothings until sad drunk Steve is replaced by someone happier.

Eddie swallows the desire down, away.

By all accounts, there’s nothing Steve’s said or done to give away his sadness. Eddie only knows he’s sad from that slight downturn of his mouth — the slight jut of his lip. The world’s most adorable pout if it wasn’t being caused for bad reasons, Eddie thinks.

He knows what it looks like because it’s what Steve looks like when he wakes from a nightmare. When he’s properly distressed, thrust to the verge of tears. Eddie knows the sight well. (And Steve knows his.)

On the couch beside him, Steve makes a little noise in response to the nudge. His eyes crease open.

He looks tired. It’s not the exhaustion that comes with terror, with having sleep chased from you, but… bone-deep tiredness.

Eddie’s lip part, unsure if it’s to urge Steve to drink some water again or just to ask what’s wrong when—

“No one wants it.” Steve says, in the smallest voice. It’s barely a whisper.

Eddie’s brows draw together. The sadness in Steve’s words travel out, pushing an ache into his chest.

“Wants what?”

Steve is silent. He’s not looking at Eddie — he wasn’t before, but now his gaze is downcast, studying the glass in his hands. His finger traces the rim.

“Wants what, Steve?” Eddie tries again.

This time, Steve sighs and it looks like it takes the wind out of him completely. “My…”

There’s a crack in his voice. Steve clears his throat and closes his eyes again, this time scrunched up as if he’s resisting the emotion that tries to take over.

“My stupid love. Keep… keep tryna give it, but no one wants to take it.” He inhales jaggedly, turning an inch and pressing further into the couch, like he’s hiding. His voice is muffled and wrecked. “No one wants it.”

Something splinters in Eddie’s chest, slivers of agony burying beneath his skin. He’s speechless.

How can Steve think that? How can he believe that?

“I do,” Eddie says, before realising what’s he’s saying.

Steve stiffens on the couch, tentatively digging his face out from hiding. His downturned eyes still have that warbling sadness and Eddie just needs to make it better — even if it means throwing his pathetic crush under the bus.

“Eddie-” Steve says, wary and tired all at once, as if he’s saying don’t do this, don’t lie to me.

“I do. It sounds lovely,” Eddie insists, completely truthful. “If you want someone to give it to, I’ll take it. I want it.”

Steve eyes him. Some of that melancholy in him has turned to apprehension. He sniffles a bit and sighs again.

“Not- not like that.” Steve murmurs, eyes falling back to the glass in his hands. He speaks with a lilt of embarrassment, as though he thinks it’s shameful to care this much. “Not as a friend, Eddie.”

A stone grows in Eddie’s throat. It’ll hurt like hell to swallow it, to speak, but Steve has always been worth it.

“I know,” Eddie breathes. He can’t quite keep all his nerves out of the words and they jam up in his mouth for a moment. “Not like that, Steve.”

He desperately wants to grab his own hair, to fiddle with it, release some tension, but he also doesn’t want to break the quiet softness between them.

The fridge hums in the silence. The clock on the microwave blinks back midnight.

Wishing hour? Maybe in some myths and stories. Eddie clings it anyway.

Steve’s hazel eyes are a little wider now. A little more awake. He’s picked his head up, no longer leaning against the couch cushions.

“You…”

Freak. Fag. Eddie’s brain helpfully supplies every awful way this could roll, entirely too late. He tenses up, shoulders curling in, a minuscule motion.

But Steve doesn’t look disgusted, he looks a little in disbelief.

“You… want it?” He asks, that same quiet whisper.

And that does a number of Eddie’s heart—the enormity of Steve’s disbelief that someone would want his love, that the rest of it—the semantics, the fact that boys can’t kiss boys—doesn’t even matter to him.

“Yeah,” Eddie croaks. He nods jerkily, the nerves still there, even with Steve’s easy acceptance. “I do. I’d love to have it.”

“Oh,” Steve says. He’s laid his head back down, his hair scrunched up against the leather, but his eyes are still on Eddie. Not scrutinising, just studying. There’s still that hazy look to them, no doubt the alcohol still in his veins.

“I never… didn’t think…” He’s murmuring more to himself. From the concentration of his gaze, he’s thinking hard. He sniffles again, nose twitching and then frowns, eyes cast to the side, before,

“Okay,” Steve says finally, voice quiet. “If you… if you mean it.”

Then he unfurls his hand, the one that had been tracing the glass, and puts it forward. Between them on the couch.

Eddie eyes it, stomach swooping, pulse thudding, and then does what he does best; throws caution to the wind. Steve might hate him tomorrow but tonight, Eddie won’t hide.

Their fingers slot together easily, two perfect puzzle pieces.

Eddie wonders if him in Steve’s life, him like this with Steve, is one of those things that would work—would make sense. If he wants to make sense with Steve or instead be another surprising thing about him.

(That Steve Harrington might like boys. Might like Eddie.)

Steve is gazing at their joined hands. For the first time since he got to Eddie’s trailer, his lips turn upward, a very small yet happy smile. He gives a very light squeeze with his hand, the lack of strength evidence of his sleepiness. Eddie squeezes back nonetheless.

Then Steve’s eyes are closed and in a few deep breathes, he’s out like a light.

It’s a careful process to extract the glass of water from Steve’s clenched hand, but Eddie manages it. It sits on the edge of the coffee table and when Steve wakes up, mouth dry and in need of water, it will be there.

And so will Eddie.

The burning possibilities of what happens come tomorrow—when Steve’s sober and actually thinking straight (ha)—filter through Eddie’s mind, but he can’t find it in himself.

There’s no regret of he’s done. What he’s said, what’s been revealed.

It’s tomorrow’s problem (or tomorrow’s fantasy come true…?), but til then, Eddie burrows into the couch and readies for a sore neck tomorrow morning.

He should really get up and turn the lamp off, Eddie thinks to himself. Then Steve snuffles in his sleep, uses their intertwined fingers to bring him closer, and he forgets all about it.

[starscream-is-my-wife]

This is part 1 of a continuation for my other post where LL Megatron gets trapped in the G1 universe, I was thinking about how someone would go insane in this cartoon world and thought "what if Megatron had someone else to accompany him" so, I gave Starscream an existential crisis

Edit: pt 2 here

[shouyuus]

OH MY FUCKKK. college roomate!vi is fucking killing meeee. the last one made me literally squeal when i read about vi's vape 😩😩 i am a silly little smoker myself and i was wondering if you'd write something about vi introducing reader to smoking? like one night they're sitting and talking on the couch, maybe watching a movie or something and vi whips out her lost mary (i KNOW thats what she'd smoke) and reader asks kinda out of nowhere to have a hit, and vi laughs a little and then teaches her how to use it (it is an art form), and their faces keep getting closer and closer and they're basically kissing because they're hitting from the same vape, right? RAAAHHHHHH 😩

college roommate!vi cinematic universe not me having to google the brand but yES ur rite she woULD

+18, no sex but vape usage, mdni

"l-like that?"

"yeah, just like that -- breathe in -- hold it -- breathe out --"

you let out a soft groan, the "cherry peach lemonade" flavored smoke slipping from the corners of your lips in streams, vi's eyes flickering down and back up again, her own lips parted, her pupils dark.

"it's -- it's a good flavor," you say, blinking as you hand the vape back to vi, who grins and takes a long hit, leaning back slow, one hand on the vape, the other slung lazily across the sofa back, letting the smoke unfurl from her mouth. you watch, mesmerized as she rounds out her lips and blows out little smoke rings just to make you laugh.

"yeah, it's nice," vi says, her voice soft as she glances back at you, at the way your eyes have gone just a bit hazy. she leans forward, tugging your chin towards her with a thumb and forefinger, a mischievous grin sweeping across her face.

"open your mouth for me, pretty girl."

you do, letting your mouth fall slack as vi takes another long hit and blows the smoke into your mouth. like this, you can feel the cool of the smoke, the warmth of her breath, the strange duality sending tingles shooting down your back, a coil tightening in your gut as you breath in.

your lashes flutter as the high slips through your body, the weightlessness gathering in your loosening muscles.

"i-i've seen people do that before --" you say, grasping for something to fill the strange, ethereal silence, "at parties," you clarify, hoping for... you're not entirely sure what.

vi chuckles, "yeah? it's called shotgunning. it's... a bit gentler than just taking a hit straight from the vape so --"

she pulls you towards her again, this time, you lean in and your lips are so close you can feel the heat of her skin against yours.

you open your mouth without her prompting, and you don't miss the way her pupils dilate at the motion. and just for a second, you can taste your own heartbeat -- the sweet cherry peach lemonade tang of it at the back of your throat -- before vi's blowing another steady stream of smoke into you and you're breathing it in, tasting her -- wondering if her lips would be just as sweet without all the flavored smoke --

"there... think that's enough for you for tonight?" vi asks, pulling back with a grin.

you lick your lips, glancing at the tv screen.

"we've missed like... half the movie."

vi laughs, grabbing for the remote, "yeah well. we were busy. luckily, there's a rewind button."

you keep quiet as she rewinds through the parts of the movie the both of you missed, your mind a berry-tinted haze of half-formed thoughts. you inch closer to her, pressing your thigh to hers, letting your head drop onto her shoulder.

"thanks, vi," you say, your eyes cast towards the tv but not really seeing it at all.

she stills beneath your touch.

"what for, princess?"

you nuzzle your head deeper into her neck, "nothing just... glad you're here."

after a beat, vi curls an arm around your shoulder and gives you a squeeze.

"i'll always be here, princess. whenever you need me. and even if you don't. got it?"

you giggle, closing your eyes and letting the bright neons of the movie play out behind your eyelids like the passing of so many days and nights.

"i'll always need you, vi... even if you think i don't." and your voice is so, slow, honest. so honest that vi feels her chest squeeze. she settles for brushing her lips along the seam of your hair.

"then i guess we're stuck with each other for the long haul, aren't we princess?"

you let out a sleepy little laugh, nodding.

"yeah. guess we are."

[hitwiththefandomz]

Sad Robot P1 | P2

[a-lurking-fae]

Credits to @zealousgoldcollective for the ideaaa!!!

◇ SELKIE READER x BATFAM

◇ WORD COUNT ¡ — 2.0k

◇ SYNOPSIS ¡ — You were a halfling selkie - but due to the family's neglect, you have become one with the ocean.

Your mother was a beautiful selkie that had simply come to sunbathe — yet, how could she have ended up like this?

Bruce was travelling to Ireland to enjoy his vacation, walking on the beaches, and - there she was, in all her glory.

Your mother was humming a tune, sunbathing as she enjoyed the sea breeze, unaware of the man who had fallen in love with her at first sight. Her long locks flew gently, arranged by the wind lovingly, the sun shone on her skin — she was the epitome of beauty herself.

A beautiful stranger — she was truly. If Bruce had simply left, maybe your fate wouldn't have ended up like this. But he approached her, like a predator moves - his eyes never leaving his prey. She was a stranger, but she didn't have to be.

“A lovely afternoon to you, sir — ” by the gods, even her voice was beautiful. A tune that no words could ever hope to explain. The moment she had spoken, your mother had sealed her fate. “It truly is. Magnificence has finally gotten a meaning.”

The woman chuckled, “A poetic man — you are, dear sir. Might share some inspiration?” .

Her- she had become his beacon, his muse, his sun, the very being that he will forever tie himself into. Was this what his parents had told him? A love so strong — it can not ever be called love. So what was he feeling?

“I - uhh… it just comes naturally, sometimes it gets to you - it explains itself in words…” oh gosh, what the fuck was he talking about. But that didn't really matter, she was laughing. “Well, I hope I'll get to experience that too!”. Her laugh had started to cease, “Could I get your number?” Shit. Did that come out from his mouth?

“What's that?” She tilted her head in confusion, the humans that approached her always asked about this “number”. Bruce was also confused, but understood that some do not have the luxury of phones. But — he misunderstood why she didn't know what a number was. “Ah… never mind, will you still be here tomorrow?” Bruce asked her, well — he hopes she will.

“Hmm, I most likely will!” Well — wait, really?

From there, their interactions spiralled into something more, a spark - you could say. For your, mother this seemed like a revelation that not all humans are pure evil — but, Bruce? Well, his obsession worsened day-by-day. He craved for her touch, he needed her to be his. And finally, he soon figured out her secret.

She was a selkie — with further research, he figured out how to tie her to him. At the dead of night, he stole her pelt, hiding it away from her grasp.

She was devastated. She should have expected this. The tales of older selkie were all truths. How could she have been that naive? Bruce brought her to the manor. She met Richard Grayson, a son she never bore.

Your mother was crafty, she conceived you in the manor while she made her grand heist. She had figured out where her coat was. She was getting desperate, the ocean screamed at her to return. The rain's whispers — always so quiet - now have started to weeping noises. How could she? The ocean was her home, not here.

You may join her one day, among her own people, just not now, she swears she loves you. Amongst the sobs of the water around, your mother weeps at what might never be. Her baby, oh, her baby.

Her pup will be left to fend for herself until she can reach her. Your mother hopes she could whisk you away, but that human has trapped both of you here. And in a way, when she leaves — a part of her will be left behind in this cold — desolate structure.

‘Goodbye, my precious cub.’

She leaves, and you are left behind — wondering what it would be like to know the love of both your parents.

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

Bruce had sent you abroad for senior high. Your siblings never really cared where you were. You had chosen Ireland — its infrastructure, history, and folklore screamed to you.

Everything was fascinating! You had read about selkies, which were kind creatures that sometimes assisted humans. You knew how most stories ended up with them getting taken advantage of. (You are unaware you were a result of the exact situation. How ironic.) You return to your Airbnb, opting to rest after classes.

At the dead of night, you trailed to the beach, you never realised you had walked all the way here! It was a good few kilometers from the bnb, how could you have not noticed?

You decided to enjoy the sea for a while, think about life? Sure, why not? A melodic tune enters your ear, words couldn't describe how beautiful it truly was. You follow the tune — entranced, you find a woman with long locks, singing away her heart. She spots you, and familiarity hits you — akin to a tidal wave, it sweeps you away. Leaving that feeling of being stranded on the shore. She runs to you, her sobs pulling your heart as well. And — “My pup, you have finally returned to my arms once more!” You weep along with her, you're not even sure that if she truly is your mother. Well, in the future you can deal with that problem!

The woman embraces you from midnight to the early rising of the sun. She tells you her story, and you are unsure. She senses the hesitation from you, after all, how could she not? You came from her womb, and she tells you your heritage. Your mother had started her own selkie family. You had half–siblings that enjoyed your presence. You weren't used to this. Your mother's husband, Liam, was surprisingly accepting of you. Watching you and your siblings from far away. His mother had a similar situation to his wife, Cahira — he was conceived by his mother after her escape a few millennia ago.

Liam protects you like his own pup. Wounds? Patched up. Need someone to talk to? A good listener is here. Boy problems? Need him to drown them? He loved you like a father. Liam saw you for you. Not because you were Cahira’s daughter, nor just a pity party — but because he genuinely thought of you as his pup.

Anytime you went swimming, they would all trail after you. You weren't a full selkie, and had a risk of dying since you weren't immortal like them. They showed you the wonders of the ocean. No matter how dark it ended up, they always knew how to find you. When graduation came around, they decided it was time to ask you —

“Join us, my child — ” Your mother randomly blurted out one day. “You can become a full selkie, and I truly wish to have you with us until the end of time.” She chose her words, knowing that you may decline their offer. “If I become a selkie, Bruce might hunt you down — again.” You rest your hand atop hers.

“I love you, all of them too. But — I do not want to risk your happiness over mine.” You hug her, burying your head unto her shoulders. This was nice, you imagine a place where it was only you and them. The cruel truth will always haunt you.

“You silly girl!” Liam hits your head in a chopping motion. “We would love to have you, and honestly? It is safer if you stay with us — away from that man.” Well —

“Not to mention the neglect you have been facing all these years, my dear — We love you so much, if he ever tries to break us up, I will go to the depths of the Otherworld and back to make sure you are with us.”

You don't notice the tears cascading down your face — it was only after Cahira had kissed them away. Did you finally realise.

Finally, after graduation, you had decided to become a full selkie.

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

You returned to the manor, wishing to say goodbye to Alfred one last time. Your pelt was in your bag, although it would have been safer with your parents, an emergency might arise and you would need it.

Your room had been the same as before, the posters during junior high were still stuck up the walls. Alfred had told you to go downstairs since you would all eat together. You honestly had a bad feeling about this —

Laughter could be heard echoing against the manor walls, inside jokes ran rampant between them — you wished to return to your room. Your paradise in hell. Entering the dining room, you could feel the stares of all your siblings upon your figure. They pale in comparison to the little gremlins back home. (You didn't realise you had stopped calling the manor your home, have you?)

Silence was suffocating, and Bruce felt the awkwardness dawning on them. “So, how was Ireland (name)?” He shuffled with his collar, he came from another one of his charity events, and he was too tired to change. “It was lovely, the country is interesting.” You wanted to taunt him, let him know you were going somewhere kinder, you knew better than that.

The silence dragged on until dinner ended, it was the polar opposite with the Selkies. You truly missed them.Your days went on without a hitch, not much has truly changed. It was only a few days until you'd return to Ireland.

“You'll be staying in Gotham for college.” No! No fucking way! Did he seriously just say that shit? “I already made friends there, it's hard adjusting to another environment again and — ” Bruce sighs, he hadn't expected this, should he just let you be? “I want to spend time with, I — I regret all the things I haven't done with you. I want to become a father to you, I hope you'll give me that chance.”

You stormed out of his office, packing your bags in a haste, preparing your pelt carefully. For some reason, your siblings in the manor had all tried to spend time with you today. Richard attempted to get you to go with him to this restaurant that opened a few blocks away — you opted to run instead. Damian had dragged you to paint with him, he surprisingly didn't attack you during this process. Cassandra and Stephanie wanted to watch a movie with you, while Babs and Jason bought you ice cream. Duke joined you and Alfred in baking. Your plans I'm running away kept getting ruined. They used to patrol until dawn!

You felt a sense of urgency to return to the sea. You made up you mind and ran with your stuff, your flight had been booked, and a friend picking you up secretly. You searched your room for the hidden pelt — wait, where the fuck was it? Shit. Shit. Shit! You turned your room upside down and — nononono! You can't delay right now! “Are you looking for something, (name)?” It was Bruce, he had to have it. “I am, and I know you have it.” You'd glared at him.

“Have what exactly?” He was a bitch alright. “My pelt, Mr. Wayne.” Bruce was taken back by your cold tone. One he always used on you. “You will stay here and that is final.” He goes outside as he locks your door, chains clanking at his every move. You never knew that there were chains! “You will not leave me, no. This is your home, my dear. Dad is sorry.” Bruce walks away from your screams, he will burn your pelt soon. Until he is sure that it will not give you any harm.

You attempt to break the windows, but all the windows in the manor have been reinforced by Dick and Jason. A feeling of dread washes over you, as your selkie family senses something has gone awry.

•.:°❀×═════════×❀°:.•

Damn that was long lol —

[rubyfunkey]

I'm with Anii! I craved for someone acknowledging Narinder's eventual love for mortality!! And I wholeheartedly believe it would take a toll on Lamb one day since they're slowly losing mortality, ironic isn't it?

i havent thought about that angle much but id like to think they could keep each other in check maybe. maybe.

[exutrio]

orym and dorian in c3 x 120: "the red end"

[serevarin]

jan ptáček. hans capon. little birdie. flowers in his wreath: begonia as "caution", blueberry as "trust", holly as "protection", lavender as "I will never forget you". ... *whisper* and also as "lavender marriage".

[hairmetal666]

Steve knows he falls in love too easily. Nancy told him, Robin too.

But falling in love with Eddie Munson is hard.

They're supposed to be friends after Vecna. They're supposed to be friends, but Steve can't get past what Eddie did in the Upside Down; how he put himself in a position to nearly die, how Dustin got hurt. It's not fair. He knows it's not, but it doesn't make the anger go away.

Eddie's part of the group now, though, and Steve won't leave him out, no matter how angry. They're all at movie nights, at pool parties, at Hellfire, at Corroded Coffin gigs. It's just that Steve and Eddie don't speak. And Steve is okay with it. If it's what it takes to make sure that they're all hanging out together, not talking to Eddie is a small thing. He's pretty sure Eddie doesn't mind. At least, he seems as uninterested in hanging out with Steve as Steve is with him.

It doesn't need to be anything more than that, and it isn't, not until Steve goes upstairs to get more sunscreen during one of the pool parties, and walks back downstairs to find Munson waiting for him in his kitchen.

"You need something?" He asks, unable to fully hide the way he jolts with surprise.

Eddie twists the rings on his fingers, something Steve's noticed he does whenever he's nervous. "You have a problem with me, Harrington?

"No, of course not," he answers too fast.

"C'mon, man. You can barely stand to be in the same room with me."

"That's not true! We're in one together right now."

Eddie rolls his eyes so hard that it has to hurt. "Don't do that. Don't pretend like you don't know what I mean. You can't stand to be alone with me for more than thirty seconds."

Steve splutters, searching for a plausible reason.

"Is it cause--" Eddie swallows, hand going back to cup his neck. "Is it cause you heard me tell Robin that I'm gay? Back at the hospital. Is it because--" he cuts himself off.

Something in Steve's chest clenches hard, warmth swooping dangerously in his stomach. "No," Steve says, means it. "I didn't hear. I didn't-- it has nothing to do with that. It's--that's cool. Thanks for--yeah, that's cool."

Eddie's smile is a brittle little thing. "Then, what else?" Eddie pulls a chunk of hair over his mouth. "I can't think of any other reason you'd hate me so much."

"I don't." And Steve hopes it's coming off as genuine. "I promise."

He can't help remember the camaraderie, the understanding, that started to grow between them in the Upside Down. The "don't cha, big boy?" of it all. They could be friends. They should be.

They shouldn't get into it. Not right here, not right now when the kids' splashes and excited screams filter through the sliding door.

"You're a shit liar, Harrington."

"Ed--I'm not--"

"You know what? Don't bother. I'll just--" He jolts in the direction of the front door.

"Don't be stupid, Munson."

"God, I can't believe I didn't see it before. You just fucking loathe me."

"I do not. Grow up."

"Oh, yeah? Then what's your problem?"

"There isn't--"

"Stop lying!"

"You didn't fucking think!" He shouts. Loud enough that the noise outside cuts off. "You pulled that shit in the Upside Down and you almost died! Dustin got hurt!"

Eddie blinks his big brown eyes in stunned surprise.

"I told you, I said, 'dont try to be cute or be a hero or something.' And you know what you said? Do you?"

Eddie won't look at him now. "I had to make a choice, Steve."

"It was the wrong one!"

"I would do it all again. No matter what you say. I would do it to draw the bats away. To protect Dustin."

"But you didn't."

"There was no other way to stop them, Steve! They would've gotten through, into Hawkins."

"It doesn't matter."

"You weren't there! You can't tell me--"

"Yes, I can! I know."

"You don't! You think--"

"I almost lost you!" He screams. "You nearly died in my arms, Eddie. And for what?"

Falling in love with Eddie wasn't easy. It was blood and near death; it was weeks in a cold hospital room while Eddie existed in a drug-induced twilight state; it was agonizing convalescence and physical therapy and changing bandages; it was Eddie leading dnd sessions with bright eyes and contagious enthusiasm, herding the kids to the arcade and video store, theatrically serving snacks at movie night; it was festering, senseless anger at the near loss of something.

Eddie's lips tremble. "Steve, I--"

"It doesn't matter." He turns away to slide a hand down his face in an effort to wipe away the emotion. "You're fine and we're--it doesn't matter."

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "Steve, I'm sorry. I wanted--I thought it would help. I thought--"

And Steve has to admit, he does, the whole terrible contradiction of it all. "I know," he whispers back. "I would've--I know."

"I thought I was protecting Dustin. I thought I was buying you guys time with Vecna." Eddie's voice breaks. "I didn't--I--" He squeezes his eyes shut.

In the quiet of the kitchen, they gravitate to one another, foreheads resting together.

"I should have been there, Ed. I shouldn't have left you two alone. You almost died, and I--"

"Sweetheart, I'm right here. We're right here."

They don't kiss, but they're close enough that their mouths brush with each breath they take.

"Don't do that, again." Steve clenches his fists into Eddie's cutoff t-shirt. "Promise you won't ever--"

"I promise, Stevie. I promise. I'll be by your side until the very end, whatever it is."

[h0lahey]

Two months after the outbreak.

Viktor is a lot more capable than Jayce thinks. His calm demeanor and pragmatic thinking got them out of many stressful life threatening situations. He can also handle him self pretty well in physical encounters. Suspiciously well given his leg.

Viktor is infected. Had been for a few weeks. His bad leg got bit but surprisingly he feels fine. Maybe the virus isn’t as bad as they thought.

He’s even getting better but can’t bring himself to tell Jayce. Not after what happened

Jayce isn’t taking the whole apocalypse thing well. He misses his old life. Family, friends, work, everything. He’s trying not to show it but some days are worse than others.

The only thing that keeps him going is Viktor. The memory of the good times. He is constantly worried about Viktor, tries his best to take care of him. He can sometimes get a little overbearing.

Jayce clings to the idea of them being able to stop all of this and get his life back. They need to get to the checkpoint. They have to.

Okay I have a new obsession.

I want to write a fanfic so bad but my academic career would go up in flames sooo

But maybe one day I’ll break and just say fuck it xd

(I’m really close ngl)

[nondestructiveprocess]

i actually don't know what possessed me to do this all in one sitting . drawn on mspaint

[ghettogirly]

Hey boo! I'm not sure if you're taking requests, but if you are, would you be willing to check this out?

I was thinking about a fresh out of prison Armando Aretas. He's been a little rough with you during sex, ever since he was released. Hurting you is definitely not his intention but he can't help but lose control after all this time away from you. It doesn't bother you at all but he still feels bad about his actions and wants to make it up to you. (Soft smut)

xblackfemalereader or femalereader would suffice.

This is for the freaks! Okay, I'm out.💋💋

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𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐨́𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚..

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᯾ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

᯾ synopsis: Armando couldn’t wait to return back to you after being freshly broken out of prison, wanting to come back home and to cherish you again was all that he wished for. However, he certainly didn’t wish to hurt you either.

᯾ theme: angst with a happy ending, smut.

᯾ format: story.

᯾ warnings: sex, mentions of escaping prison, armando is a rough during sex, mature language, reader gets hurt during sex, use of a safe word.

᯾ authors note: i hope you enjoyed!! This is my longest story yet, sorry it took so long, i added so many different elements.

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𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆, this was a normality within the institution as the men went crazy being locked in their cell for 23 hours a day. Their brains slowly turning insane at the routine of staring at white walls while the day goes by. Men turned into animals here, feeling as if they’re in a cage, they had nothing else to cast out their anger on.

Animalistic screams were scattered around the block of cells as the prison warden took no notice, sitting down on his chair with his hat covering his eyes as his head was down. Clearly taking no notice of the cameras. Casually walking over to the welded steel door, Armando looked through the tiny screen on his door, looking around as far as the tiny little screen within the door let him. He was used to the chaos, however, that didn’t mean it got any less annoying.

Yet, today was the day.

Plopping his magazine on his bed, he walked around to his shower room. Armando crouched down slightly. Pushing his fingers through the small steel gaps of the tiny vent in his cell, he opened it, taking out a match. “aquí tienes…”

His prison flip flops created a smack on the concrete floor as they connected. Whistling, he looked up at the camera while messing about with it in his hand. Wasting no time, A whoosh of light appeared before him as the flame quickly ignited and started moving slowly down the little stick. “Hasta el fuego.” Throwing the match onto his bed, he ran into the shower and disappeared down the hole.

Below the hole was a motorcycle waiting for him , with some cartel members side by side. Jumping on the blacked out bike, armando revved his aggressively before driving off. “Vamos! ¡No tenemos tiempo!” The other men nodded before quickly following their boss.

𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃. Armando’s orange jumpsuit clung to him as the fibres shrunk due to the contact of the rain above, now displaying his buff physique. Alarms were heard blaring in the distance, presumably because of the chaos he left behind.

Regardless, he kept his pace, running to a remote location within the field. His cartel organised a chopper for him there, to safely secure him back at the mansion. Branches snapped as he jumped over them or threw them out the way, Armando stayed alert.

Left. Right. Up. Behind.

Every area had to be surveilled. No witnesses. No police.

Finally reaching the location, a chopper was there awaiting him. A member stepped out to greet him, yet, there was no time for that. “¡Súbete al puto avión!” The male shouted, ordering his men as he signalled the pilot to engage. Some cartel members were still far behind. “Tsk.”

Bolts of light flashed among the mexican faces as bullets made of hardened steel penetrated the bodies of the workers still running to the helicopter, knocking them down one by one, the male angled his arms with ease. Looking through the scope, he released each bullet one by one, none of them being able to escape this fate. BANG! BANG! BANG!

“If they can’t keep up, leave them in the dirt.”

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍̃𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐒. Twirling his ring around, all he could think about was his wife. You was the light of his world. Staying with him through thick and thin, you even gave up your dream of a beautiful wedding by marrying him in prison.

He was coming back home now though, ready to give you the world baby.

Satisfied with the life Armando already gave you, each day you thanked the heavens that he was still alive. It was painful, seeing him locked up. Yet, it would’ve been worse placing down his casket six feet under. 𝐌𝐈𝐗𝐄𝐃 𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓, travelled through your system as amygdala integrated your emotions with the other areas of your brain. He was coming back.

“Ma’am he’s here.”

“Jefe, estamos aquí.”

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐌𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐈. Cartel members swiftly moved to the door, opening it, revealing the muscular leader. Splashes of dirt imprinted the orange jumpsuit due to the dampness of the forest. It had slight rips in it, clear signs of getting caught onto nature.

Armando slowly made his way out of the chopper, slowly analysing all his workers as they waited for his approval. “Es bueno estar de vuelta.” Bottles were popped as loud cheers were heard from the whole crowd, who walked over to greet him. He gave handshakes and side hugs to his most loyal “friends.”

𝐀 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃. “Finally you’re home!” Running up to him, you jump in his arms as they wrap around you, leaning in for a kiss. “ive te perdió..” Armando whispers, feeling your scent flow over his senses, bringing him a sense of comfort. Looking up at you with love in his eyes, he licks his lips, “Maldita sea, no puedo esperar para quitarles la ropa.”

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𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐋𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒, 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍. His heavy arm laid on your thighs, sleeping at an angle due to his constant movement while sleeping. Clearly he was not used to being in a comfortable bed, transitioning from prison conditions to luxurious conditions being a massive jump.

Yet, you felt strange. Your body felt sore due to the sudden use of muscles contracting while keeping up with Armando’s rough pace. Maybe it was the prison system that made him more aggressive, maybe it was the excitement. Who knows?

Nevertheless, you brushed it off. Not wanting to overthink all the possibilities of the sudden change in his sexual stance the night before. This was a moment to enjoy life, not dwell on it.

Removing the pink, silk bonnet that rested on top of your head, protecting every curl from breakage, they spilled out. Resting beautifully on your shoulders. It was frizzy at the roots due to the intensity of last night, the sweat causing the curls to become puffy, but that’s not nothing a little mousse can’t fix. Messing about with your curls as you was lost in thought, you felt a gentle press to your shoulder.

“está bien?”

You nodded, not really feeling the need to tell Armando about your thoughts from the night before, not wanting to concern him on his first morning being free from the cage he used to be contained in. “Never been better.” Planting a kiss on your lips, he smiled at your reply, not thinking anything of it as he was essentially on cloud nine. “Ven a acostarte con-“

A loud buzz reverberated off of the oak bedside table, a loud groan was made by the male as he slowly rolled over to pick it up. Swiping the green button, he answered. “¿Por qué coño me llamas tan temprano en la mañana?” You chuckled at his blunt answer, typical Armando.

A sigh escaped your husband’s lips, clearly annoyed at the shit he had to deal with so early in the morning. Placing the phone down he looked over at you, “tengo que irme..”, annoyance was plastered all over his face.

“That’s fine, i’ll be waiting here for you anyways babe.” You said gently, kissing his cheek and then his lips. Wrapping his arms around you, he leans for another kiss. and another. and another. “You need to go..”

“¿Realmente tengo que???”

Chuckling you lightly hit his arm, “Go and get up.”

“Ya no me amas?”

A pillow was then flung towards his head.

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𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝟏𝟎𝐏𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍. Armando had blood splatters on his white-collared shirt. The first two buttons were undone as he coordinated the outfit with black pants, he was looking sexy but that wasn’t the point. “What happened?” Asking in a panic as you walk up to him to check if he’s okay. “Estoy bien, no te preocupes.”

He walked into the bathroom, taking off his shirt and pants as he threw them into the wash basket. Walking back out, half naked. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, the scars tattooed all over his body due to the violent nature of the cartel being a sad story to tell, but sexy to look at.

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 - 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐙𝐀

“Súbete a la cama, princesa.”

Wasting no time, you did as you were told, stripping off your clothes. Slowly crawling onto the bed you laid down, spreading your legs as he got in between you. Tracing his finger up and down your clit, your wetness coating his finger. “Stop-“ Not even having time to finish your sentence, he pushed a finger in, making you gasp.

Pumping it in and out, you writhed under him at the pleasure he’s inflicting upon you. “Oh fuck!”

He slowly lowered himself down by your clit, still pumping in that finger. You felt his hot breath on your lower area, sending down electrical impulses throughout your nervous system, diffusing through your synapses. A wet object then placed itself upon your clit, circling it.

Armando licked stripes up and down,

making you moan in pleasure, tugging on his hair as you urge him to do more. “I can’t..”

“Puede.” Lifting himself up from that area, he pulls his finger out from you, putting it in his mouth and tasting you. Repositioning himself, he lines up his cock with your pussy before pushing himself in, stretching you out. A sharp flash of pain struck you before quickly dying back down. Armando didn’t seem to notice and slowly started thrusting for about 5 seconds before increasing his speed.

It was somewhat animalistic as he roughly thrusted into you, clearly taking his anger out on your body. It was satisfying at first, but then, his pace got faster. His grip becoming harder. “Armando!” You shouted, but he was still caught up in the overwhelming feeling of being inside of you.

“Cherry! Cherry!”

That’s when he noticed and stopped., quickly pulling out of you “¿Te lastimaste?”

“Estoy bien, todavía estoy adolorido de la otra noche.”

You noticed the pained expression that plastered his face. “Lo siento, lo siento-“

Holding his face in his hands, you look at him with a passion in your eyes. “I know you never meant to hurt me. Stop blaming yourself so much.”

Armando looked at you and nodded, before lifting you up and carrying you to the bathroom.

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐇, he slowly stroked your face as you relaxed against him. “Perdoname quierda.” He whispered.

“Don’t worry, i already have.”

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[🕷️] 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

“aquí tienes…” : there it is..

“Vamos! ¡No tenemos tiempo!” : Let’s go! We don’t have time!

“¡Súbete al puto avión!”: Get on the fucking plane!

Los campañeros: Their companions.

“Jefe, estamos aquí.”: Boss, we are here.

“Es bueno estar de vuelta.”: It’s good to be back.

“Te extrañé” I missed you.

“No puedo esperar para quitarme esta ropa”: I can’t wait to take these clothes off.

“está bien?” : You okay ?

“Ven a acostarte con-“ : Come sleep with-

“¿Por qué coño me llamas tan temprano en la mañana?”: Why the fuck are you calling me so early in the morning?

“tengo que irme..”,: I have to go

“¿Realmente tengo que???” : Do i really have to ???

“Ya no me amas?” You don’t love me?

“Estoy bien, no te preocupes.” : I am fine, don’t worry.

“Acuéstate en la cama, princesa.” : Lie on the bed princess.

“Puede.” : You can.

“¿Te lastimaste?” : Are you hurt?

“Estoy bien, todavía estoy adolorido de la otra noche.” : I’m fine, i’m still sore from the other night.

“Lo siento.” : I’m sorry.

“Perdoname quierda.”: Forgive me, love.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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