#anyway time to edit some more fics and possibly post some more because you guys know I love attention !!!

[boiohboii]

Protective girl (Charles Leclerc x reader)

Inspires by @charles-eclair16 's fic

When fans go too far, yn wants to protect the one treasure in her life

or

in which we finally get to see the roles reversed

N.B: this is been in my drafts for so long, omg! Let me know what you guys think!! WARNING: not proof read, some swear words, might have messed up a date, don't focus on any dates mentioned, this is all fictional anyways. Hope you guys like it

masterlist

Liked by Arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55, pierregasly and 1,379,064 others

itsmeyn: charles always goes above and beyond for every single fan of his, he tries to take as many pictures and sign as many autographs as possible, but what happened last night was a fucking joke. He doesn't like what I'm writing cause he says that it was just a mistake and that it was fine, but it really isn't, it's so disrespectful and disgusting! He always wants to meet his fans and make them happy only to receive this insanity, him falling AND HURTING HIMSELF because some of you can't fucking wait and be organized like a human being! Charles isn't an animal in a zoo where you race to pet him! He is a human being, he is a son, a brother and a boyfriend! This wasn't just an accident, i have seen these 6 girls multiple times in multiple places! it's so obsessive and so so sick of you to follow him everywhere.... Charles won't speak up because he is Charles and he lives seeing the good in people, but I will tear everything and everyone for his safety, so for you 6 girls you will be hearing from court soon so better prepare a good lawyer you assholes!

Comments on this post have been disabled.

Liked by leclercboy, ynistheitgurl, fuckferarri and 91,739 others

F1_updates_live: Charles Leclerc's girlfriend, YN LN, seen today arriving in front of the UK's courthouse in a red SF9 Ferarri. It had been quite a week for YN as she was seen hitting a fan after the said fan pushed Charles. YN took this fan and 5 others to court, no one knows on what bases but what has come out is that she has won the case which means that Charles and YN have restraining orders against the group.

username: OHH HEEEELLL YEAAAAAHH

username: yn doing God's work

username: yn serving justice

username: that's what we needed

username: hot girl shit

username: the car and suit combo is so fucking hot of her

username: I think this is too much, like these girls just wanted to see Charles

username: @.itsmeyn can we make them 7?

username: another one

Liked by Charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, pierregasly and 617,829 others

itsmeyn: don't blame me, love made me crazy

username: YN IS A FELLOW SWIFTIE?!?!?

username: if I had a nickel for everytime yn and I had something in common I'd have 2 nickels, which is not a lot but it's weird that it's happened twice

username: now I just want her to watch all the charles edits done with a taylor song

itsmeyn: who says i already don't 🌚

username: and I oop-

username: THIS IS THE SWEETEST AND CRINGIEST SHIT EVER!

Liked by wolfffam, maxverstappen1, lance_stroll and 817,629 others

itsmeyn: congratulations to my baby, the love of my life, you deserve it and so much more ♥️♥️

username: FINALLY!!

username: idk how to react, ferarri has let us down too many times that all I know is lose

username: I don't see how he deserves it tbh, all of his results are shit for quite a while , he's only where he is cause he's driving a ferarri 🤷‍♂️

itsmeyn: oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were the one in a formula one car, in a ferarri, that by the words of many professionals is at its worse era. I don't care about you and your opinion but don't state it as a fact, no one can do better with these strategies. I hate to keep saying this but when your own fucking team doesn't have the same dream as you it turns to shit. Even if charles is the only one in the car, it's still a team sport, not a one man sport. Fuck you and your tiny ass brain that can never survive one lap in a formula one car, it'll probably explode cause of all the bullshit in it before the first lap anyway. So next time you wanna talk shit maybe try to do fifth of who you're criticising is doing, I bet that'll shut you up real quick you dimwit.

Liked by leclercpascale, pilotesofmonaco, tswiftyn, and 52,719 others

F1_updates_live: YN LN, Charles' long time girlfriend, seen today fighting Xavi in Bahrain due to his mistake on the radio which resulted in Charles losing his podium position.

username: good for her

username: charles is so lucky

username: I love how she always stands up for him

username: honestly, whenever charles or carlos ignore the strategies they win... I really wanna see more of that.

username: this is just Monaco 2024 GP all over again, yn was so fucking furious (rightfully so) cause Xavi's mistake costed charles a p1 in his home race.

username: this shit was so heartbreaking man

username: I think this was the first time we ever saw yn angry at sabotaging charles, like the most we saw was her holding his hand when crossing the street, making sure he eats first, playing with his hair when nervous, but I've never seen yn make someone literally cry until 2024 with Xavi being her victim

username: pffft, victim, he 100% deserved it

username: oh yeah, definitely. All my homes hate Xavi, like can you not say the strategy properly 😒

[plasticbag3207]

Alastor and Vox Possibly Knew Each Other in Life

I recently started writing/planning a fic centering around how Alastor and Vox met, and how their friendship turned sour into what their rivalry is today. I’m sure people have already written fics like this but I haven’t seen any (not that I’ve been looking) with this as the main plot and without heavy shipping.

Until literally this morning I wasn’t ever quite able to peg down Alastor and Vox’s ages. I assumed they were at least in their 30s, though it didn’t seem out of the question to say they were older or maybe even a little younger.

That is until I found the leaked character sheets of them. Apparently a year (or two?) ago someone leaked a lot of the character sheets/voice sheets for most of Hazbin Hotel’s cast. Obviously leaking is bad, don’t do it. I also don’t know if everything on those sheets is still canon, so I’m only going to talk about the ages. Also massive thank you to my friend for talking about this with me and helping me come up with stuff :)

(Theories, Headcanons, and Spoilers for the fic below the cut)

According to Alastor’s character sheet, he’s roughly in his 40s, and I’m going to say he was born in 1891. Assuming sinners don’t physically age at all after going to hell (because I’m 90% sure they don’t), that’d make him 42 at his death in 1933. Vox on the other hand, I’m saying was born in 1902, and died in 1955, making him 53 when he died. With these dates Vox and Alastor were only 11 years apart.

In my headcanons Alastor landed his job as a radio host in his mid 20s (1913), and built his way up to being the most popular radio host in New Orleans. By 1918 (27 years old) he had his own full show, which ran for 15 years until his death—and was wildly popular.

My headcanon for Vox on the other hand, is that he started as an actor. He always loved attention, and soon by his early 20s (1924) became a big hit on the silver screen. Very quickly he climbed to the top, becoming beloved by Hollywood and starring in many more movies over his lifespan.

I don’t think Alastor had such a massive disdain for television or visual media yet, though I’m not going to say he loved it. He saw Vox as some attention hound, constantly desperate for more with an insatiable appetite—not unlike himself.

Vox at some point stumbles apon Alastor’s radio show, and instantly loves the guy. He laughs at every joke, loves the creativity of the sound effects, and such. After some tugging of strings he meets Alastor in person and offers to interview him on one of his late night shows. Alastor reluctantly accepts, though the two can’t help but be put off—and even annoyed at times by each others’ presence.

The interview, to say the least, does not go very well. Alastor found it a bit humiliating, Vox being too caught up in the spotlight and not all that willing to share it with Alastor. After that, Al decided that “this face was made for radio” and radio only.

They potentially saw each other in passing, but beyond that their interactions were limited.

Eventually Al dies, and is outed as a serial killer. Vox becomes ever more popular with televisions becoming a household item of the 50s until he dies.

Yippie :)

I’m not 100% sure how much of this is canon compliant, but whatever it’s my fanfic I’ll do what I want with it. Also don’t worry I didn’t spoil the entire thing, just aspects of their human lives. Most of the fic will probably be in Hell. (When/if I post the fic on Ao3 I’ll link it here aswell)

EDIT: I started the fic, it’s a little rough but I’ll polish it up eventually. I also can’t promise I’ll stay 100% true to everything I talked about in this post but it’ll probably be pretty close. Anyways, I hope you enjoy :)

[syoish-aot]

HOLY SHIT IT'S DONE!!

I was having some intense posting paralysis all morning (I think I reread the last scene like 15x just to make sure it was worded exactly right).

*he terrifying fear when you write something you really love and you're scared no one else will like it as much as you do*

ANYWAY -

Thank you so much to everyone that's been regularly reading slash commenting on I Found You! It was my first time posting fic to tumblr and I had a lot of fun doing it!

I always have SO MANY ideas for fics, but I get overwhelmed by the idea of seriously perusing them. A lot of this comes from the fear that no one will read them and I'll have spent all of my time writing for absolutely nothing. BUT I've been trying to humble myself lately and recognize the joy in the writing process itself and the satisfaction of getting my ideas fully fleshed out on paper aka google docs regardless of the attention they get.

Despite that, anyone who writes fic understands how shitty it feels when you work for DAYS on something and get crickets in the comments. It sucks. And that's sort of how I've been feeling with my fics on Ao3 lately- which kicks my motivation right in the ass.

In writing I Found You, I think I got some of that motivation back. Not JUST because I was getting regular commenters (again, thank you so much) but also because I was able to slip fully into my self indulgence and finally write out one of the verses that's been existing in my mind palace for MONTHS!

So, all of this rambling is to say this -

I really liked sharing this story with you guys on tumblr, and I'm for sure going to be doing more of this style in the future.

I'll be posting I Found You to Ao3 as well, but I want to edit it a bit (and possibly add a few more scenes) before doing that.

Basically the version I posted here is more of a rough draft, and then the final version will be the one on Ao3.

If you like my writing, consider checking out my Reader/Eren long fic "Ten Seconds" (100k, complete on Ao3) or the post-canon Jean/OC fic I'm working on "The Letters She Wrote"

If you read all of this, then here's your reward - a sneak peak at the VERY LONG isekai/time travel fic that I'm going to be working on next...

Chapter 1 - "You, 2000 years in the future"

Shiganshina High - 2024

You’d taken Ancient History as an elective to fill your schedule because no other class fit in the period. 

Also to piss off your dad about not taking AP calculus.

(But mostly it was the schedule thing.)

It wasn’t that you disliked Ancient History, you just found it painfully boring and mind numbing. It was the class right after lunch and every assignment was another boring paper that sounded the exact same over and over and over again.

(Although it did leave you wondering how many times you could start a paper with “the oxford dictionary defines discovery as…” before Mr. Arlert, the ancient old man who taught the class, caught on.)

Thankfully, you didn’t have to put too much effort into the class to get a good grade and because of that the class was an easy A that you could use to maintain your honor roll. Mr. Arlert was retiring at the end of the year, so he was pretty much entirely checked out. You had a feeling he didn’t actually read any of your papers and gave your grades out based on how well he assumed you did the assignment. Which, again, meant you got an A on every one. So Mr. Arlert had a habit of putting on documentaries instead of actually teaching anything. 

And you weren’t about to complain about that.

Armin was sitting next to you furiously taking notes on the documentary that Mr. Arlert, his grandpa and teacher, had put on. You understood his struggle to impress his grandpa in the class he taught on a personal level. You used to be like that when it came to math, but now you normally felt yourself doing the opposite. “The opposite”, meaning:

Not taking AP calculus.

Writing the wrong answer on a quiz, even after doing the work to prove the correct one.

Asking pointless questions in class just to see him get that constipated I-can’t-treat-you-like-my-daughter-right-now-because-you’re-my-student-but-god-do-I-wish-I-could-ground-you look.

You smiled at the memory, feeling quite pleased with yourself, until the monotone voice of the documentary playing at the front of the class pulled  you back into the present:

“The ancient people of Paradis elected large walls, presumably to protect themselves from invaders during this time.” You looked back at the projector. There was a poorly done animation of what historians suspect the three large walls may have looked like, back when they still stood almost 2000 years ago. 

The documentary, just like every documentary Mr. Arlert put on, seemed pretty pointless to show to a class of eleventh graders who were already very aware of the mysterious history of Paradis. 

You’d all grown up here and had been taught about this stuff since grade school. Paradis was a major hub for ancient history. There were dozens of museums throughout the island, all holding different ancient artifacts and pieces of your country’s history. Pieces that’s functions had been lost to time, leaving archeologists only able to guess the true history of your people and what these items were for.

“...purpose of them is still unknown, some archaeologists theorize they were used for early agriculture, although others argue they may have been used for religious reasons…”

On the screen was one of the most mysterious relics of ancient Paradis. Two metal cylinders, attached to some sort of strap. Normally, they were found with a large box of metal that was meant to hold something, along with canisters of unknown contents. The were rare, but a few dozen of them had been uncovered in the last hundred years and have only continued to add to the mystery of ancient Paradis. 

Of course, you were curious what their origins may be too, but not curious enough to look into it further than this class and the occasional trip you make to the Paradis Museum. 

“...these large man-eating monsters were an important part of Paradis folklore, some argue they were likely worshiped as go-”

The bell rang, finally saving you from your mind numbing documentary focused torture.

“Ah!” Mr. Arlert jerked awake at his desk. “Yes, well- I hope you all learned something important today!” He quickly said as he stood. “Don’t forget, your final papers are due on Monday morning. Despite it, I hope you’re able to enjoy your weekend!”

You hoped so too.

God, did you hope so...

[teaveetamer]

It's okay if butwhatifidothis risks leading people to harass Captain Flash by going over his fic but it's not okay if Raxis does the same to reynaattheend?

Okay I feel like I want to get one thing out of the way before I go into this.

BWIIDT agreed to remove parts of the old reviews that were particularly rude or offensive if they were pointed out to her, something that was literally promised to the MODS of the Edelstan discord server (who claimed to have a direct line of communication to Cap).

So the guy literally had a chance to air his grievances with the posts and have the parts he didn’t like removed within reason, and we never got any examples of things to ask her to remove. So either she’s not as rude as people make her out to be, or they never actually cared about her critiques and haven’t bothered reading them, even when handed the literal opportunity to edit things out they didn’t like.

Additionally BWIIDT has said that she would be willing to remove all the postings completely if the guy would just hear her criticisms and learn from them, so he could better handle the racism, sexism, homophobia, etc. in his fic. Of which there is a lot.

I don’t know how you could possibly compromise more without just straight up being a door mat and pretending like this white man never had any issues with the way he wrote race and women.

Anyway as for why I view these as two completely different situations that are not really comparable IMO:

1) Cap’s fic is/was at the time literally being shoved at people. We were told to read it to “understand canon better”.

This isn’t just me saying this. I remember around the time before/slightly after BWIIDT started giving her criticisms of the fic I was seeing it getting recommended to a bunch of people. There were people on various social media sites complaining about the Edel crowd shoving the fic down their throats. I had it recommended to me on some different platforms, etc.

And that’s not just fans of the fics’ perception. Cap himself has stated that he views the fic as meta commentary on the game/discussion of canon, not just a fun little fic he did. And he’s happy people view it as essential for understanding canon.

As far as I’m aware, Reyna’s fic has never had that sort of culture around it, nor has she wanted it to have that kind of impact on fandom. I’m pretty sure she’s even explicitly stated that she KNOWS it’s not always aligned with canon and she doesn’t care, because it’s just a fun little project for her.

2) As far as I’m aware, BWIIDT never linked to Cap’s fic? I don’t even think she gave the title of it at first, it’s just that most people figured out what fic she was talking about BECAUSE of the aforementioned it getting shoved down everyone’s throats. But I wasn’t really following her in the beginning so I don’t remember, I’m sure she can reblog this posting if she wants and further clarify.

Raxy has literally been linking to Reyna’s fic on every posting and spelling out the full name of the fics and the author. Given his followers’ propensity for harassment (which he claims to not support) he really should have known better. He wasn’t “risking” sending her harassment it was basically a foregone conclusion.

He definitely should have taken all of the links down and stopped linking or naming the author or fic after it became clear people were literally going and harassing her, using his posts and material to throw at her. But as far as I’m aware he hasn’t done ANY of that.

3) I know from talking with BWIIDT since Raxy started harassing everyone here that she wasn’t going to bother with Cap’s fic originally, but then the annoying fans shoving it down people’s throats + she noticed a lot of very problematic handling of race that she wanted to talk about in greater depth = her discussing the fic at length.

I haven’t read through Raxy’s criticisms, but I feel like there’s a BIG difference between a woman of color pointing out the problems regarding race and gender in a fic (written by a white man) that’s being recommended to everyone as ESSENTIAL FOR UNDERSTANDING THE GAME vs. Some Guy Who Doesn’t Like A Random Fic

Additionally, I don’t really feel like it’s my place to tell her to shut up because, uh, it just feels kind of gross to tell her to just not be mad about the way the white guy is butchering the biracial experience when she’s a biracial woman and I’m not? Which again, very different from telling a 35 year old cishet white guy who is acting like a dick about anime chess to be less of a dick about anime chess.

4) And again, I also know for a fact that BWIIDT is just interested in critiquing/venting about the fic, and would be willing to stop making postings about it if Cap actually bothered to read the critiques and learn from the mistakes he’s made regarding the racism, sexism, homophobia, etc. in his fic.

But like, he keeps doubling down on it insisting that because he grew up next to a reservation and he has one queer woman doing his beta reading there could never be any problems with his handling of any of these sensitive topics, so he doesn’t need to listen to any of us ever, and people are still touting it as essential for understanding canon, and he’s still okay with that, sooooooo ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It’s VERY different from what Raxy is doing, which is basically just calling Reyna’s fics “cringe” and “not canon” from the snippets I’ve seen. He’s also blasting them over LITERALLY every social media platform he has for some godforsaken reason. Which like. If your goal was just to critique the fic why are you posting that shut EVERYWHERE?

5) I really don’t think Raxy is that bothered by the criticisms of Cap’s fic. He harasses people regardless of if they’ve talked about Cap or his fic, and after his aborted attempt to drum up harassment against BWIIDT on GameFaqs he came to Tumblr and started begging her to “do his fic next”

Like honestly I don’t even know what goes on in that guy’s head. Weird ass behavior. I really don’t care what he has going on, it’d just be nice if he’d act like the 35 year old he actually is and quit being so petty and childish.

Even if you think what BWIIDT did with Cap’s fic is wrong, why would it EVER be acceptable to drag an uninvolved third party into the mix and bash their fic and send them harassment as “retaliation”? Reina has nothing to do with this. She doesn’t even have fucking social media accounts outside of AO3. I know because I literally left her a comment to warn her about this clown and she told me.

What BWIIDT has done with Cap’s fic is admittedly a bit of a grey area, but ultimately I fall on the side of “whatever” with it because of the notoriety and influence on fandom fans of the fic desperately want it to have, and because of just how problematic elements of it are for various communities.

I mean you can’t go reccing a fic as essential for understanding the game and shoving it down the entire fandoms’ collective throat and then expect it to be treated like a 14 year old’s silly self insert fic when the people you told to read it critique it with the gravitas you assigned to it.

If you wanna critique BWIIDT for what she did with Cap’s fic, or critique me or anyone else for interacting with her, or you just think my logic is stupid and you want to critique that, then that’s… fine? I’m an adult, I’m a person, I know there’s places I can grow. But I’m sick of people acting like it’s okay to be a shitty person just because you got your feelings hurt once, so now it’s okay to go making it everyone else’s problem. And I don’t know if it was your intention to defend the guy with this ask anon, but it’s definitely happened too damn much with this guy and the Edelgard fandom as a whole.

That was another thing that really fucked me off in that conversation with the Edelstan server mods. I had one of them acting like I run fucking Reddit and I’m somehow responsible for some trolls calling Edelgard fans Nazis four fucking years ago. You can bet your ass I would get crucified if I tried to shit talk some random ass Edeleth fic and tried to justify it with “but it’s ok cuz some Edelgard fans were mean to me once :(“. There’s a reason why the fic being touted as essential for understanding canon is the one getting critiques and not any of the THOUSANDS of other Edeleth fics in existence. Because no one fucking cares about fanfics when they aren’t getting shoved down your throat and touted as “essential”.

I mean fuck dude, I got called a fake queer and an r-slur and intentionally triggered with genocide bullshit and had people talking about killing me. Am I going around harassing random fic authors over it? No, cuz I’m a grown ass fucking adult and I know how to act like it, and I know that 99% of the people who write/have written Edeleth fics had absolutely nothing to do with that.

So if you’re justifying going after Reyna with “but BWIIDT was mean to Cap!” Then knock it off, Reyna has literally nothing to do with this and you’re being shitty by trying to drag her into it. If you just did this to spork a fic, then you’re currently being a dick over a fanfic for no reason and clearly it’s leading to the author being harassed.

@butwhatifidothis if you wanna add onto this feel free.

[juicycoutureheaux]

Hey yall! It’s been a minute since I posted on Tumblr! I just want to let you know my series: When it’s over is alive and well on Ao3. I stopped posting chapter updates on here because I felt like I was clogging up the tags.

This prompt was inspired by an AI chat prompt weirdly enough. (So if you’re reading this and you made the chat please message me so I can tag u bb!)

Anyway here’s a product of me being sleep deprived and literally just being mushy in general. I seriously wrote this last night before I went to bed and it hasn’t been edited. I may go back and edit, I just figured releasing this fic into the wild wasn’t the worst thing I could do.

This is a fluffy kind of OOC fic for Chris Redfield. I hope y’all enjoy

“Late night feeling”

A Chris Redfield x reader fic

Tags: fluff, migraines mentions of death, intimate but platonic relationships, younger woman X older man dynamic

You were resting after a rough deployment. You had made it back to the BSAA barracks and returned to your small room that had just enough space for your twin size bed, a desk and some shelving.

You had made the space work to the best of your advantage; free housing meant you had to get creative but you managed to make your small room as welcoming as possible.

The other soldiers were used to the barebones when it came to accommodations, and usually you didn’t mind when you were out on deployment, but when you were stateside you made sure to have all the comforts you could fit in the tiny room.

Pretty soon, you were popular in your unit for having just about anything. Did somebody have a headache from the dry air? You had a humidifier. Somebody needed some extra toiletries but didn't want to leave the building? You always had spare supplies. Cold medicine? You had it.

Pretty soon you were known as “mom” despite being on the younger side. It made you proud, because your position was technically as a medic, and it meant more to you that you could care for your teams stateside as well.

You were studying the popcorn ceiling in the small room for the 50th time, trying to get yourself to get to sleep when you heard a knock on your door.

You opened it thinking it was another soldier needing something small, but were shocked to instead see Chris Redfield, Captain of multiple elite task forces and founder of the BSAA.

You didn’t know whether to salute or curtsy, you were so close to falling asleep and were delirious

He smiled at your obvious discomfort. “I heard from the guys earlier you were the one to see if I needed anything.”

You looked at him wide eyed, still shocked that he came to your room late at night. He must really need something bad.

“Y-yeah, I’m sort of the barracks *mom* of sorts.” You giggled nervously. “What can I get you?”

Chris sighed. “Do you have anything for migraines?”

You looked at Chris, thoughtfully.

“I have a couple of solutions, how long have you had symptoms?”

Chris looks at you, you can tell what he’s going to tell you he’s embarrassed about. “…4 hours.”

You looked at him in horror. You knew Redfield was hardcore, but you had some migraines yourself before, if he was seeking your help, it must have been pretty intense.

Without thinking, you mentally switched into caretaker mode.

You quickly pulled the covers on your bed, and pulled out a foam wedge you had underneath your bed that you used to get comfortable for reading or watching tv.

Chris couldn’t help but grimace through his pain.

“Are you used to having late night visitors Y/L/N?” He looked at the foam wedge. “What the hell is that for?”

You snapped your head back at him. “What are you insinuating?” Genuinely curious, did he think you were going to treat his migraines by fucking him?

Chris grimaced again. “I hear you younger girls are into some wild things these days, but I didn’t expect it from you.” He put his hands up defensively. “More power to you though.”

You laughed from your belly. “Captain with all due respect, I think you’re seriously confused on what this is for.” You placed the wedge close to the foot of the bed. “Plus, if that’s how you think we’re gonna fix your migraine, you’re seriously confused on what my job here is.” You smiled at him.

You had only worked with Chris a couple of times. He wasn’t a stranger to you by any means, but you definitely weren’t friends either.

He was your superior and you respected him. The first time the two of you had met, you were a new recruit trying to make it onto the field.

You had passed every cognitive test the BSAA had to offer, but your physical skills were shit to say the least. You were athletic, you were great when it came to stamina, but when it came to hand to hand combat and firearms, you hesitated.

You remember the disappointed look your supervisor gave you when review time came. You were extremely gifted when it came to observations and patching men up, but you were a liability on the field.

“Get used to seeing the inside of the clinic, sweetheart.” You remembered him saying to you.

You remember going to the gun range, it was late in the afternoon and you thought no one was there. You were crying while missing the target completely. You knew you looked insane, but damn you felt so good.

“Why the hell can’t I just do this one simple thing?” You remember saying out loud to yourself. “The stupid boys back home could do this shit, but I doubt they could suture up flesh, and I can’t deploy because of this one thing!” You said louder emptying the clip into the target.

You pressed the button that brought the target to you. You looked at it helplessly; the bullets holes were all over the place. You crumpled the paper furiously into your hands.

“That's one way to neutralize a target,” you heard a warm baritone behind you say.

You turned around to see Chris Redfield with his own gear, ready to begin his own practice.

You saluted him. “Captain Redfield, Sir.”

He saluted you back. “At ease soldier, you don’t have to be so formal, no one else is here.”

“Y-yes sir.”

He walked closer to you, clearly in his element.

“I heard news on your performance review, Y/L/N. That’s brutal.” He said, trying to sound comforting.

Your lip quivered, you were angry and disappointed in yourself. You wanted to angry-cry, but not in front of one of the founders of the BSAA. He probably already thought you were weak, crying would just exacerbate the issue.

“It was.” You said looking down.

He looked at you sympathetically, and put his arm on your shoulder. “You have an incredible brain though.” He said, trying to lighten the mood. “We were really pulling for you this time, we need more personalities like you on the field.”

You looked up at him. “Really?”

Chris smiled at you. “I definitely don’t picture you in spec ops anytime soon, but we definitely could use you in damage control.”

You returned his smile.

“But you also understand why we can’t send you out there unprepared, you could be ambushed anytime.”

“I understand.” A heavy tear fell from your left eye and you immediately wiped it away, in fears of Chris noticing.

He looked at you sympathetically, “It’s normal, not being able to just want to shoot a living thing.”

“But why is it so easy for everyone else? I just can’t do it!” You said, frustrated.

“I think it’s because you’re overthinking it.” He shifts on his feet. “Think of it this way, if someone was going to hurt someone you cared about, even slightly, wouldn’t you not hesitate to take them down?”

You honestly had never thought about it before. You really were thinking of BOWS like victims, but if it were between you and your fellow soldiers getting out alive you wouldn’t hesitate.

Chris saw the gears in your brain working. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“You think of them like they’re normal people, and they definitely may have been at one time.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “But you can’t think of them like that, it’ll get you killed, rookie.”

“Yessir,”’

“You know,” he said, picking up his duffle bag with his arsenal of personal weapons. “I actually have free time this evening, can I show you a couple of things?”

You looked up at him, shocked he would even want to spend one of his rare free moments with a dumbass like you.

“Are you sure? I know you’re always busy, are you sure you want to spend it mentoring my ass?”

“I don’t have anything else better to do, plus I see potential in you, rookie.” He motioned for you to follow him to the lane you were at before he came in.

He positioned himself behind you to perfect your form, gently touching your biceps and arms. He had a strong, but gentle grip on you. You tried not to turn into a teenage girl at his touch, but you seriously hadn’t got any action in a long time.

Chris, remained professional as always; if he noticed that you were crushing on him in the moment he didn’t acknowledge it, he just focused on the task at hand.

The afternoon turned into late in the evening, but you were finally comfortable with shooting your gun.

“Look at you, that was maybe 3 hours of proper training?” Chris looked at your work. “Looks like you’ll be out in the field in no time.”

Chris’ kindness stayed with you, and you were able to get into a lower ranking team, but a team nonetheless. You were finally able to help on the ground.

Now, Chris was looking to you for help and you couldn’t disappoint him.

“I’m going to have you sit down on my bed, okay? I promise I’m not gonna try anything funny with you okay?” You joked with him. Trying to lighten the mood.

“Honestly Y/L/N, I’m in so much pain, I’m willing to try anything.” He said sitting down.

“Good.”

You instructed him to lay down, putting the wedge underneath his calves, elevating his feet. You then grabbed a thick towel from one of your drawers and rolled it up. You gently placed the towel under his neck and made sure to keep his head supported with a pillow.

Chris grunted.

You looked down at him worried. “Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah,” he breathed out. “This is the best I’ve felt in a while.

“Good!” You chirped. “Where’s your pain radiating from?” You asked, getting up to turn on the humidifier. You knew from your own experience warm steam always helped, especially since it was December and seemed to worsen migraines.

“It feels like it’s behind my eyes, but it really does feel like it’s all over.”

“Is that normal for your migraines?” You asked putting hand sanitizer on. You had an idea of what you were going to do, but you wanted to make sure.

“Recently, yeah. I sustained a pretty bad neck and head Injury a couple years ago and they worsened from there.” He said, closing his eyes. His voice lowered like he was starting to get some relief.

“Are you okay with me touching you, Captain?” You said hesitantly.

“Of course, Doc.”

You smiled. “Not a doctor, but I think I can help.”

You began massaging the base of his neck, gently pulling his head to realign his spine. You were going at it for a couple of minutes before you heard him groan.

You stopped for a moment. “Still okay?”

“Better than okay. Can you keep going?” He asked sheepishly.

You were thankful he had his eyes closed, because his tone made you blush.

You began to let your hands move to his temples massaging the tense muscles in his face.

“You really carry a lot of stress,” you said trying to make his facial muscles relax manually.

“I guess 20 years of fighting monsters will do that to you.” He said bluntly.

“I’m sorry Captain-“ you stammered.

“Y/N drop the captain shit, it’s Chris. Please call me Chris when we’re alone.” It almost sounded like a plea.

“Yessir.”

He smiled, lightening the mood again. “I bet they ate you alive in boot camp.”

You smiled. “They did, but I survived.” You giggled.

You began to work your fingers over his sinuses, being sure to gently, but firmly relieve the tension in his face. Your fingers gently caressed a couple of mostly healed scars over his handsome face.

“I heard you got to see some action in the desert, Y/L/N.”

You sighed. It was a sensitive topic for you right now, but you didn’t want to offend Chris. “Yeah, I had to shoot my first aggressor.”

“You sound upset.”

“It was just,” You sighed heavily, trying to push the image of the infected soldier from your memory.

“We don’t have to talk about it.” Chris said, opening your eyes to meet your gaze. Before that moment you hadn’t realized how intimate this interaction was with him. His head was in your lap on a pillow, supported by your crossed legs.

“I knew him.” You said quietly.

“I heard he was one of our guys,” Chris said, his tone tinged with a slight sadness.

“He always was so shy and he was so into his routine it was funny. The other members would always clown on him.” You were reminiscing about your comrade.

“I always keep snacks in my room, and one day he broke his routine to see if I had anything. I was so happy that he asked me for something, that I kept buying the same snack so he would keep coming to me, I just wanted him to feel like I had his back.” You started to sniffle, feeling a burning sensation in your sinuses.

“I don’t know what happened he came back from

recon fine, I had just patched him up; then he turned.” You couldn’t help but tremble, Chris felt this and sat up.

You were slightly surprised by his sudden actions, he turned to face you.

He held your shoulders. “I need you to promise me that you’re not going to let this destroy your life Y/N. Remember what I said, it was either you or him.”

“But why did it have to be him?” You let your emotions go. You began to cry, you were wiping your own tears when Chris wrapped his arms around you. It immediately took you off guard.

He just held you, the warmth of his body radiating onto yours, you no longer felt so cold and lonely. He slowly let go of the embrace.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“Don’t apologize, that’s a lot to have on your heart.” Chris looked at you more seriously this time. “Have they done your mental evaluation yet? You guys didn’t get back that long ago.”

You let out a sigh. “Honestly, after all that work to get me in this unit, I think I’m about to fail and be released because of a psych evaluation.”

Chris looked at you sympathetically.

“I guess it wasn’t meant to be, I really am just not cut out for this am I?” You pulled your knees to your chest.

He placed a warm hand on your leg.

“You’re doing just fine, the first kill is always the worst, but it doesn’t get easier. You just get tougher.”

You instinctively put your hand over his and squeezed. “I can’t imagine what you’ve seen, what keeps you going?”

Chris rubbed his hand over his face, his migraine had disappeared finally. “I wanted to stop getting close to others, I wanted to shut down, stop caring about people.”

You rubbed his arm and felt him shiver.

“But, that wasn’t who I am. I’d never stop caring, it was the reason I joined the Air Force and the RPD. It just led me…here.” He trailed off.

“We can’t control what happens to us, is what you’re saying, right Chris?”

He smiled. “Exactly. We can control how it affects us. You’re a sweet girl Y/N, I couldn’t stand to watch this line of work harden you.”

You blushed at the sweet girl comment.

“Well I guess then you’ll be happy that I’m thinking of going to TerraSave.” You said, nervous of how he was going to react.

Instead of looking at you with disgust like you had anticipated, he was excited.

“TerraSave? Really? I’m close with a major player over there, maybe I can tell her you’re interested.”

Your heart sank at the mention of a woman he was close with, you knew you never had a chance with him, but you liked to indulge in the healthy fantasy every once in a while.

“That would be great.” You said sheepishly.

“She’s my sister in case you’re wondering.” He winked at you.

You were embarrassed that your face gave it away that you were jealous.

He then boldly lifted your chin with his hand. “If you end up working for TerraSave, there won’t be any rules against taking you out on a date either.”

“Chris, really?” You laughed. You were in shock.

“I like a woman who doesn’t know when to stop,” he winked at you.

“You’re disgusting.” You playfully hit his shoulder.

He feigned defensiveness. “Hey, I was talking about not giving up on reaching a goal, I don’t know where your mind went to.”

You felt your self melt, he was so dreamy, exactly like you imagined. “I never thought I’d see this side of you, Chris. It’s nice.”

He cupped your face with his hand and you instinctively leaned into his palm.

“It helps when I’m with someone who’s able to bring it out of me” he said, stroking your face with his thumb.

You felt equally relaxed with him too, so relaxed that you let out a yawn.

Chris only chuckled. “I guess it is late, huh?” He said gently pulling his hand away.

You whined at the sensation.

“Don’t get bratty on me now,” he laughed.

You put your head into your hands. “How’s your head?”

“Much better,” he sat up straighter. “Crazy what a few moments of relaxing can do.”

You smiled at him, “Feel free to come to my room anytime.”

[campbyler]

ok. a genuine question. how do u guys write 20-30k *chapters* bc i will outline fics minutely or i will just let myself start writing based off a vibe & either way i will get 600 words out of maybe. two hours of work. on a good day with no distractions/interruptions, & i very much do not have an uninterrupted two hours to write very often, so you can imagine how slowly things get written T_T so i’m interested if there’s any aspect of any of your writing processes that really enables u guys to write so much or if it’s not really something you think about? anyways i really like ur guys’s work, & thank you for deciding to write for byler bc i know me and a lot of people enjoy it a lot. thanks!!

hello !! this is a super valid question and i’ll try my best to answer it for you 😗✌️

andi infamously writes a lot faster than thea and i do (she finished draft 1 of chapter 3 in like. two days. which was so scary. i’m in awe of her fr) but she has also spent a lot of time editing ch3 so it’s definitely not like these chapters are publish-ready in a short amount of time by any means! it took thea a couple of months total to fully write + edit ch1 and it took me about 3.5 weeks to write ch2 and another two weeks to edit it which is part of the reason we’ve spaced out our posting schedule like we have — we put a lot of effort and care into these updates and we want to give ourselves as much time as possible to get ahead before all 3 of us inevitably get so super busy with work and/or school in the fall!! so while we do write a lot, please don’t think we are so insanely speedy about it because unless we are having Really Good Writing Days, that’s definitely not the case. sometimes we do have days where we are really in the zone and write more than usual, but at least for me, this is so so so rare. whatever i write in this time gets heavily edited because so much of it was nonsensical brain vomit LOL

as far as writing process goes, i think one of the things that motivates us a lot is that we genuinely do just talk about this au constantlyyyyy like we’re always coming up with silly little hcs or drawing for it or adding to the Lore ™️so we’re always getting inspired to write! all three of us are definitely people who use writing as a way to relax or even reward ourselves after a long day; we would probably die if we had to go too long unable to :/ messages like “i can’t wait to get home and write after work today” or “i’m going to write a little bit of ___ before bed because i deserve it” are very commonly found in our gc because we really just look forward to it so much! as for our scary word counts, i feel like there is a lot of worldbuilding in this universe specifically, and pacing is really important to us — we want to make sure introductions and set-up to a scene and character interactions are meaningful and flow naturally, and building tension (which is a hallmark of this fic hehe) does take some time, which can definitely add up word count-wise.

for the most part, none of us usually have a solid few hours to sit and write either (unless it’s on our days off or after work if we’re not too tired) and we get a lot of writing done in chunks! we hold each other accountable for short check-ins (“ask me for a snip in 30 minutes”) which is super helpful when you’re stuck, because it kind of forces you to get Something down without worrying if it’s super polished and edited and perfect. if you’re writing on your own, something i’ve started doing lately is setting a 15 minute timer and just seeing how much i can get done in that time, and then setting another and doing it again (up until however much time you have to write that day). i’ve found that the artificial deadline helps break the monotony of sitting in front of your computer for Hours on end with nothing to show for it bc TRUST we’ve all been there and it sucks so bad 😔✊

this got super long so i apologize but i hope at least a little bit of it was helpful! it definitely helps that we are constantly feeding into each other (i.e: having brainrot) and offering inspiration and advice, which does wonders for creative flow tbh. we’re definitely not cranking these chapters out as quickly as people might seem to think — thea started chapter four, which won’t be posted for about a month, maybe a week or two ago. i just started chapter 5 — about 6 weeks away — yesterday lol so we do take our time! don’t be scared by the giant chapters, we just had a lot of content we wanted to include in each one and are in too deep to take anything out 🥳🥳 thank you for the question! good luck with your writing we believe in you 🫡

[bacon-sandwich-of-dionysus]

Bloodhound. (A Ghost x AFAB!reader fic)

Act One, Chapter Three: Encapture

Literally had to re-upload this because I made such a dumb grammar mistake! Ugh! Anyways, if there are any more, I am so sorry... with the poll added, I can't edit posts and there is so much text to wade through :(.

Also, what the actual heck am I doing with Ghost?! Like, this poor, poor man. This is just turning into 'how far can we push Ghost before he breaks'? This is supposed to be an 'x reader' lmaoo. I mean, 'x reader'?! More like, 'x life-ruiner'.

As for Graves' side... well, uh... Graves has um... a mishap. I really hope these Arcadian Sons come across as scary to you- I'm trying to go for that!

Word count: 11, 570 (the length of this chapter should be a warning)

Warnings: Strong language, violence, gore, mentions of trauma, the sheer length of this chapter and uh... kicks to the groin. (I hate myself.)

You were frozen on the spot, looking at him, one foot ready to take a step forward into the barracks and the other fervent in remaining on the other side of the threshold. Your blood had turned to ice, heat concentrating in your cheeks as you desperately tried to wrack your brain for ideas on how to proceed. However, you had turned to stone under his gaze, thoughts coming to a standstill, unable to form sentences you could understand. This was mortifying, no… this was beyond mortifying. It had been five minutes since your last encounter with Ghost and the image was still fairly fresh in your brain. Your nose wrinkled a little as you cringed slightly, the mere allusion to what you had seen making your stomach twist itself into knots. 

Ghost was paralysed too, staring at you. Oh, how you wanted him to pretend you weren’t even there! Although, you could have sworn you saw a bit of yourself in him, that same frazzled expression in his eyes. You were both locked in a stalemate, only electing to act once the other had moved. The two of you could be here for a while… or you couldn’t- provided that one of you would decide to bite the bullet and do something. 

As Ghost opened his mouth to speak, he watched you let out a noise which sounded vaguely like distress. Then, like you were never here, you spun on your heel and left, quick footsteps sounding your frantic dash away from the barracks and away from him. 

SIghing, the man brought a hand to his masked face. 

Yeah, he was positively kicking himself, I should have locked the door. 

Once you had gained enough distance, you turned and leaned against the brick wall, digging your hands into your face as you let out an exasperated groan. You should have knocked on the door. Whilst this base wasn’t brimming with personnel, it was still fairly busy. People could be found everywhere, taking advantage of every facility they could get their hands on. Moreover, judging by what Laswell had told you about 141’s ‘great big misadventure’, these guys would most likely pounce on any opportunity to have a hot shower. 

Picking your heavy, reluctant feet off the floor, you turn to continue your trek down the corridor, only to be suddenly confronted with Gaz. 

You almost jumped out of your skin. 

“AHHHH!” 

That scream was borderline bloodcurdling.

 “Gaaaz…?” 

A weak smile crept onto your face as you tried to appear as casual as humanly possible, resting some of your weight on the wall by leaning against it on your side as you stuck up a pair of finger guns.

Smooth. Very smooth. 

His brows furrowed together. 

“Are you okay, Y/N?” He asked, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Pffft!” You brushed the question aside with the wave of your hands, “I’m fine, I just got a bit spooked. “

“I can tell. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He remarked, chuckling.

You laughed… a little too hard.

Gaz was a little taken aback by your slightly unnerved skittishness but knew at the same time that, if Laswell was to be believed, you had gone through a lot. He didn’t know the details but then again, he didn’t need to know. He got the idea: Y/N was a typical runaway. Almost cartoonishly typical. He had noticed that you had been constantly looking over your shoulder last night, hurrying to places within the base like you were being chased by someone watching you from the shadows and dark crevices. If he was honest, he felt a little sorry for you. It was clear you had been shaken by something. Something that had dealt a heavy blow, and if the gnarly scar running straight down your lip didn’t indicate that, your behaviour did.  

“Anyways,” Gaz cleared his throat, “I was wondering if you wanted to join Rudy and me for some yoga? I don’t want to be presumptuous or anything, but… I think you could do with a bit of, you know, mindful meditation?”

His brows gave way to slight worry as awaited your decision, subtly chewing on his lip.

You took a moment to reflect on the offer. You hadn’t really done much yoga before, but it wasn’t like you didn’t know anything about it. Besides, it might help with clearing your head of all the shit that was swirling around inside it: the teeth, the claws, the words they hurled at you along with their bullets… and also this morning. 

Yeah. You exhaled softly, It would be stupid to pass this opportunity up. 

He couldn’t help but feel a little warm, fuzzy feeling build in his chest as he watched a genuine smile spread across your face. 

“Yeah.” You nodded, “I think I could do with a bit of mindful meditation too.”

He gestured for you to follow him and you gladly did so, making an effort to not lag too far behind. The sergeant led you down the corridor, one which headed southwards, opposite to the path which had led you to the bathroom of doom. Soon, he stopped, pushing open a set of fire doors and opening the way to the courtyard, where another man turned to wave at him. Presumably, this was Rudy. 

“I see Y/N has decided to join us!” He smiled, “Didn’t you manage to persuade the others?”

Gaz sighed, “Price said he’d rather sit this one out and have a smoke and Laswell is busy with… Laswell stuff.”

“What about Soap and Alejandro?”

“Alejandro’s still finishing up breakfast and Soap said he was good.”

Rudy seemed a bit deflated.

“What did Ghost say?”

“He answered with ‘shower’, pointed in the vague direction of the bathroom and uh… didn’t really say anything after that.”

Rudy wasn’t sure of what to make of that reply but supposed he’d just have to accept it.

“At least we have someone who was happy to give this a shot.” The sergeant major gestured to you, “Let’s hope this CD player works.”

Rudy busied himself with flicking through the various CDs he could find in the cardboard box next to the player, which was precariously placed on a creaky stool, while Gaz began to roll out the mats. As the two got on with setting up, you decided to have a little look around. 

This courtyard was a mess of concrete and struggling plant-life, various weeds trying to break through the cracks in the cement, competing with each other for a spot of sunlight. Despite the lack of floral displays or perfect green lawn, the asphalt garden was still somewhat a garden and with that came this atmosphere of tranquillity. 

“So,” you shyly began, still eyeing your surroundings, “how come you guys decided to do some yoga?”

“Felt like we needed it, I guess.” Gaz shrugged, setting a mat on the floor.

He dusted off his hands, looking up at you.

“And it also makes me feel a little at home. I used to do this regularly, believe it or not.” He smiled, “But then we had… well, Shepherd and… the stolen missiles… But, you know, we have a moment to breathe now so I’m taking it.”

“As am I!” Rudy added, placing a CD into the player, setting the lid down with a click.

“I see.” 

Good on them, you thought to yourself, Good on them!

Perhaps you should make a hobby out of this once you’ve found somewhere to properly settle, eh? You couldn’t help but smile at the thought. 

It seemed you were enjoying it so far, relishing in the ‘downward dog’ stretch, feeling your body sing with gratitude as your muscles made a start in releasing some of the tension. 

Ghost recognised your voice as he walked down the corridor, catching a glimpse of you in the sunlight, laughing as Gaz tried to keep you steady in a paired ‘tree pose’. He had to admit, it was a strange scene before him, the contentment of Gaz, Rudy, you and the instructional tape’s soundtrack of Tibetan bowls contrasting with the backdrop of armoured vehicles and heavy cargo. Ghost couldn’t help but pause and watch you, no real reason forming behind the action, other than it being most likely boredom. 

“Steady, Y/N! You’re going to-”

You and Gaz fell like dominoes, with you landing right on top of him, howling with laughter. Rudy was the only one who remained standing, perfectly balanced, not quivering one bit. A small grin made itself known on his face; even with his eyes closed, he could tell what was going on. Despite you being clearly no good at this, paired poses were most certainly not your thing with how many times you had fallen and taken poor Gaz with you, you couldn’t help but have fun. There was no real weight here to your actions, no real consequence for mishaps, no one scolding you or threatening to cleave your head from your shoulders… errors were allowed to just be. You were allowed to just be. 

Ghost was still watching, hooded eyes narrowing in curiosity. He was still trying to see what you were all about. Yesterday didn’t really give much about you apart from politeness and an eager aim to make a good first impression. Last night and this morning had presented a much more skittish side to yourself. And here? Well, here he was seeing certainly a more relaxed Y/N. You were a cackler, he’d give you that, unafraid to conceal your true laugh. Hearty chortles and snickers left your mouth as Gaz made a comment which sent you and Rudy over the edge, your laughs only intensifying as you watched Rudy lose balance and fall down. This yoga session definitely wasn’t about peace and tranquillity, but it didn’t matter, you guys were having a good time. Ghost chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he moved on to go grab something from the mess hall.

He guessed he just liked the way you smiled. 

As you were settling down, still wiping tears from your eyes, you spotted a figure in the doorway.  Your senses told you this was ‘Ghost’. You felt your heartbeat begin to quicken a little, only to then die down again once you saw him turn and walk away. Like a deer watching a wolf turn back to the forest after a long chase, you completely slackened with relief. He walked on, not even paying you much attention. You followed him with your eyes until he was out of view. 

Did he not care?

Should you not care?

Did you overthink that whole exchange? Did you need to run?

Maybe you’d go apologise. It would be a selfish apology, coming from a need to wrap this whole thing up on your end, mark this situation as officially over, but… maybe he wouldn’t care for any reasoning behind your confession and just take it. Not necessarily accept your ‘sorry’, but you didn’t need that from him. 

The way he nonchalantly moved on, like you weren’t even there, though most likely recognising you along with Gaz and Rudy, was comforting. 

“Okay!” Rudy’s voice broke through your thoughts, “I’ve fast-forwarded it to the… I think it’s called the ‘Shavasana’ part?” 

“Yeah, that’s ‘corpse pose’.” Gaz explained, getting up from his cross-legged position to go listen and assess the instructions.

He turned his head, so his ear was facing the speaker, paying close attention to the CD’s soothing voice. 

“Yeah,” he nodded to himself, “That’s the ‘cool down’ part.”

Then, the sergeant turned to you. 

“I know we’ve been giggly, but I think this part’s going to be better for us if we’re real calm.”

You nodded, trying to get the last of your chuckles out through taking steady breaths as guided by Gaz. You smiled a little, doing your best to focus as Gaz talked you through the breaths.

“In for four.”

You breathed in, counting away in your head. 

“Out for six.”

You exhaled, counting again. 

“Try to breathe from the bottom of your belly,” Gaz placed a hand on his tummy to show you where he meant, “and then fill your chest with air.”

You did as he said, needing a few goes before you mastered it. 

And when you exhaled, breathing out from your chest first, then your belly, it was like a part of you had left with it, dissipating into the air around you. 

“How’s that? Feel relaxed?”

You nodded. 

All three of you lay side by side, getting comfortable on your backs, ready to enter ‘corpse pose’. 

“Now, close your eyes.” The CD instructed, “Place your hands either with your palms facing up to receive or facing downwards on the ground to release.”

Hmm, you pondered to yourself, closing your eyes, Do I want to give or receive?

To let go or accept? 

It was a tough call. 

There was a lot, particularly a lot of pain, you wanted to give up but at the same time, you wanted to receive the privileges of freedom, or at least have the hope to receive them. 

However, if you wanted to receive the boons of your new life, you would first have to properly let go of the restraints of your old one. 

Release.

You placed your hands beside you, facing downwards. 

Soon, you were back with your old friend, your haunted mind. 

In the dark, you could see the formings of your pursuers. Teeth, eyes, claws. Guns, bullets, knives. Body armour tearing, nails rendering your skin. 

You had survived them all. 

In for four. 

They were trying to put you back in the chase, when you were afraid and running from the Red Room. 

Out for six. 

However, you weren’t afraid enough to picture the setting. The pale moonlight, the forest floor, the echoes of howls and the gnashing of jaws… they were all merely descriptions. Just words. No images, no scenes. You refused to make the sights and smells tangible. Words they were and words they shall remain. You couldn’t be scared forever. 

As you lay in your mind, another memory came forth. 

An older lamia, the one you had escaped with… who unfortunately didn’t make it. She… you were both held down by those dogs. Unsupervised, they had decided to take punishment into their own hands. 

You had seen horrible things. People beaten and bloodied beyond repair. And yet, that lamia… she had said something to you that night.

“You will learn to love men again.”

It was strange, but it stuck with you for some reason. 

“You will learn to love men again.”

You had denied it for quite some time, but in this moment of solitude, with it being just you and your thoughts, you decided it was time to acknowledge the apprehension that had been plaguing you the most. You were afraid Laswell’s lot could do what those Arcadian Sons had done. You were afraid they would try something, that they were the same. 

You had denied it. However, the only other company you had ever had before were either Arcadian Sons, the whitecoats which studied them and your comrades from the Red Room. And, as for Arcadian Sons, a lot weren’t kind. Not all. But a lot. 

As shown by that night. 

Unit 4, the ones which had hunted you and your band of escapees, they were monsters. Regardless of what shape they took.

Men like them deserved to be tortured for eternity, put in pits of fire and burned for centuries. Have unspeakable things done to them. You wanted each and every one of those sick fucks to feel your pain, feel the fear you felt. 

Fear often wore the dress of anger. 

You wouldn’t let anyone hurt you like that ever again. You were in control now. 

***

“Oh shit!” 23 smiled, “I got the camcorder working again!”

She held it up, zooming in on the conversing soldiers near the rooftop’s edge. 

“Okay,” she was still grinning, eager to present to her imaginary audience, “so here we have 7418 who you guys know already. Then, there’s 7629, 72’s worked with him, and she says he’s alright. Going ‘round the circle, there’s 7152, he trained some of my roommates. And there, the one closest to the edge, that’s our new packmaster! 7223!”

She panned over to get a good view of him between the gesturing hands and shrugging shoulders of his workmates, only to quickly conceal the camera as she watched his masked head turn to face her. 23 muttered an obscenity as she watched him approach. 

“Have you been recording this whole time?!” He held his hand out for the device, “Gimme the camera.”

23 looked up at him with big brown eyes, her prized possession remaining close to her chest. 

7418 chuckled, placing a hand on Graves’ shoulder. 

“Relax, brother. She likes filming things. Besides, it’s not like she gets to keep what she records.”

Phillip slowly turned to look at him, cocking his head to one side. 

“The Red Room wipes these things. This is a harmless toy for her, let her play whilst we continue planning.”

Graves looked between 23 and 7418. Underneath the mask was a face of confusion. This was most unorthodox, especially for a guy with his experience of covert ops. Nevertheless, he conceded, letting her continue to film, hoping that 7418 was right and that he wouldn’t get any shit if it turned out that 23 shouldn’t even be in possession of that camcorder and its shell of ‘Hello Kitty’ stickers. 

The men stood like gargoyles in front of their twilight backdrop, perched on the rooftop, their faceless heads surveying the streets below, slowly rising to behold the target location: a mansion just beyond the trees, sticking out like a sore thumb. This was tantalising, the target within view. Graves felt his jaw tense, the anticipation for action gripping his body with talons that further and further tightened their hold on him. Out of his periphery, he could see his fellow Arcadian Son, 7152, quiver a little. 

Graves felt his heart skip a beat or two, it felt like only yesterday he was here… with 141 and the Vaqueros. Now, however, he was in a completely different position, with a tighter leash around his neck.

One thing that did unnerve him about this mission was… well, their numbers. Back when he was part of the PMC, he had the security and the subsequent confidence that came with knowing there were people to watch your back and also to be made distractions out of. Right now, on the other hand, there were only six of them, counting the lamias.

“We haven’t got much in terms of numbers,” he sighed, turning around to address his men, “So we’re going to have to make a lot of noise to get people to scram and clear the path for Sin Nombre’s extraction.”

“The girls have got some burning canisters on them, haven’t they?” 7629 suggested.

“That’s a whole villa of people though, of obstacles…” 7418 sighed, “I don’t think the canisters will be enough.”

“Well, 72 and 23 can also make ‘em see things as well. That’s what we did on one of my last missions… just made the poor guys think there were fifty of us when there were only twelve.”

“What do you mean 72 and 23 can make people see things?” Graves asked. 

“Lamias can put people to sleep, make people hallucinate… they mess with people’s minds.” 7629 explained matter-of-factly, “They’re good for small packs like ours, even if it can be a pain takin’ care of them. Never been one for kids, myself.”

7629 gestured to the two girls doing stupid poses, each vying for their spotlight in front of the camcorder and its grainy footage.

7152 rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Takin’ care of them isn’t even the hardest part though. I always find it’s keeping them out of trouble. I’ve seen way too many instances of friendly fire.”

That’s when Graves had a lightbulb moment.

Sift through the herd. 

Like a spider pulling together the threads of its web, Graves gathered the information around him and formulated a plan. This was going to be a fairly easy job… provided people stuck to their stations.

“We need ‘em to think we’ve brought a whole army to one villa, then.” He remarked, before getting their attention, “Look, I’ll have the girls have cut the power off and started fucking with people. Then, I need two guys to help keep folks running around like headless chickens. Whilst they’re doing that, I need one of y’all to lead Sin Nombre to me.”

“Take all the glory for yourself?” 7629 scoffed, “Doesn’t seem fair.”

Graves let out a puff of air through his nose.

“For talking back to me, you’re not going to pick your role. You’ll be on crowd dispersal.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” 7629 turned away, groaning.

“Who wants to be on crowd control too?”

7152 raised his arm.

“Great. That leaves you, 7418, to be the heel-snapper.”

“Heel-snapper?”

“I just made that up. You get the idea.”

They all let out small laughs, shaking their heads. However, soon, their laughter faded into silence, and they returned to staring at the villa once more, ready to spring this plan into action.

Though they did possess the appearance and mannerisms of regular covert ops soldiers, it was evident that all were a hair trigger away from rabid chaos. 

7418 scratched at his neck, hoping to be able to relieve the itch nibbling away at him under the fabric of his baselayer. 

“I haven’t seen Valeria in ages.” He commented as he scratched away, “I used to work for her, you know.”

Graves turned around. 

“You worked for Sin Nombre? How’d you end up here?” He asked, curious.

“She sold me.” Was the reply. 

“What?!”

“Well, she sold my body. I received a fatal wound from a Vaquero. Where one typically sees loss,” he chuckled wryly, “Valeria saw opportunity.”

Graves sensed there was more coming. 

“And?”

“And now she’s stuck with having the Foundation coming back for her services. They let her hide away from the authorities and she has to do us favours. Such is the price of being an ex-employee.”

“Valeria worked at the Foundation?”

“Was a lamia… so I’m told.”

“I see.”

7629 chuckled, taking a deep breath. 

“Can’t wait to get on with this, ‘Commander’,” he exhaled contentedly as he turned to Graves, “I haven’t had a good meal in ages.”

“What’s that got to do with the mission, soldier?”

“You’ll see, friend.” Was the mysterious reply.

A few minutes later, a familiar voice crackled a little, the static trying to break it up the words emerging from the radio on Phillip’s chest.

“7223, this is 23. Do you read me?”

He pressed down on his radio. 

“Loud and clear, 23. What have you got?”

“We’ve made it to the backdoor, sir.”

“Undetected?” 

“Undetected.”

They all breathed sighs of relief, some patting their mates on the back.

“Good job. Pick the lock and get inside. Once you’ve sounded the alarm, we’ll take care of the rest.”

Ssssounded. He cringed at the sound of his own voice. The mouthpiece sitting under his mask, though uncomfortable, did allow him to speak… at the cost of giving him a slight lisp. 

“Roger that, sir.”

23 let go of her radio and squatted down beside her teammate. She could hear the quiet clicks and muffled metal groans as 72 tinkered with the lock on the door. Though the mansion had many, much sturdier reinforcements to keep unwanted guests outside… someone had forgotten to brace the entrance to the kitchen. Not that the Las Almas cartel thought that'd be an issue, they were planning a get-together tonight and easy movement to the bins outside was something they were willing to allow now that they had upped the number of guards on patrol.

Getting one of the guys down here would’ve definitely cocked this whole operation up. Graves had suspected that after her previous capture, Valeria had taken further precaution for her next soiree, seeing as she had this place locked up tighter than a miser’s purse. Her confidence oozed from every manned balcony and every dark corner where she had posted a lurking sicario. Self-assured and as cocky as ever, there was no doubt Valeria would be lounging in her seat at the head of some banquet table, feasting while her organisation continued to infect the streets of Las Almas. 

“Hurry up!” 23 whispered, spotting an armed sicario passing through the gate, looking to be heading to the side entrance- a.k.a. their hiding spot. 

The pick snapped as the words left her mouth and 72 sighed. 

“Don’t rush me. I’m trying to get this open without making it look like an intrusion.” 

“You’re taking too long…” 23 growled, bringing the scope to her eyes once more, “I got eyes on a guard coming this way.” 

“Well, send him the other way.”

23 shook her head. 

“Can’t. Don’t want to risk Sin Nombre detecting us.”

72’s shoulders slumped. 

“Quicken it up, mate. He’s not slowing down.” 

“Shush. I’m trying to focus.”

23 leaned back a little.

“Shush? Don’t you ‘shush’ me. I’m the one watching your back.”

“Well, shut up and keep doing that.”

“You fucking-”

23’s radio crackled. 

“Girls, what’s taking so long?” Graves asked. 

23 rolled her eyes. 

“72’s going at a snail’s pace, sir.”

“And 23 keeps distracting me!”

The younger one turned back to the lock-picker with a face of absolute indignation. 

“Am not!”

“Yes, you are!”

“No! You’re-”

Graves stood on the rooftop, staring blankly into the distance as he listened to the girls’ staticy argument continue in hushed voices laced with petty venom. 7629 couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, shaking his head.

“Yes!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“No!”

“Yes!” 

“You bitch!”

At the sound of that word, something snapped in Graves. Immediately, he pressed down on the radio. 

“HEY!” An angry, authoritarian voice burst forth from the small communication devices on 23 and 72’s chests, “Don’t make me come down there. 23, stop harassing your teammate and keep your eyes peeled for anyone who approaches. 72, work faster and don’t talk back to 23, she’s the one keeping both of you alive.”

They both sighed, rolling their eyes, and resumed working in civil silence.

CLICK!

72 did a little fist-pump.

“I’m in!” 

Gently, she pushed the door open, and they both headed inside, closing the door behind them. Once the pair were firmly in the building and still out of sight, 72 pressed down on her radio. 

“7223, we’re inside. Getting our shrouds on now.”

Graves smiled under his mask. 

“Good work. Let me know once you’ve located the fuse box.”

“Copy.” 

Graves nodded to 7152 and 7629. Both men left his side, ready to emerge from the shadows of the streets below and terrorise whatever poor cartel member stumbled onto their path.

Meanwhile, oblivious to the intrusion made by two lamias, Valeria and her men sat around an ornate dining table which almost stretched the length of the room. El Sin Nombre currently had a map in front of her showing all the details of the new Vaquero base. Decisive eyes narrowed as she clicked her pen, digesting what her lieutenants had just informed her of. 

Those British boys were back and had taken to squatting in the new Vaquero base. 

With those wanted men on her doorstep, Valeria knew that someone was going to be crawling to her for her services. Though El Sin Nombre was her official title, the woman wouldn’t have been surprised if someone out there had taken to calling her the ‘Middleman’. It was who she was half the time, the guy who meets you halfway down the line, the steppingstone between Point A and Point B. She was the one who set things in motion. Without Valeria, missiles don’t get moved and people don’t get paid. She was a lifeline to all: for criminals and governments. 

Valeria leaned back in her throne, exhaling. 

“I want to know if they’re planning on moving any time soon. Once they move, we no longer can do business with anyone who wants them, understood?”

“I’ll let the informant know to keep us posted, boss.”

“Good.” She nodded, “I also want to know if Shepherd has-”

Valeria paused and looked up to the ceiling, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Something was going to happen. Something wrong was going to happen.

A split second later and she was buried in shadow. 

“What the-”

“Is it the Special Forces?”

“Boss, what do we do?”

She swallowed hard. 

Shit. 

The druglord ran a hand through her hair, looking about for any signs of movement amidst the murk. Nothing. 

As for the sounds? Very little which stood out to her, everything layering into one, aggravating cacophony of confusion.  

“Get someone to check the power!” She demanded, slapping the shoulder of one of the lieutenants.  

He nodded and yelled for a sicario to do their job. 

Quiet footsteps walked along the hallway, his path lit by torch light as he peered down the length of his gun, pointing it squarely ahead of him. The sicario kept his breaths steady, knowing he had enough ammo to put down whoever the offenders were. 

Cowards. 

They wouldn’t even show their faces. 

 He got to the staircase and turned back, staring at its side. 

The door to the cupboard under the stairs had… vanished. Under the black balaclava, brows furrowed. The sicario could have sworn the door to the fuse box was right here. He squinted a little, hoping that perhaps he’d be able to spot the outline marking its presence once his eyes adjusted to the darkness.  

However, it was gone!

Valeria gritted her teeth. 

“This isn’t Special Forces…” She muttered under her breath. 

Then, turning to her closest and most useful underlings, she yelled in Spanish, “Alvaro! Lucas! Elian! Stay close to me!”

They bunched up together, guns loaded and ready. All she needed now was the first sign of action, then she’d know which direction to run in. 

 “Boys, whatever you do… don’t shoot them unless absolutely necessary.”

 “What?”

 “Just do as I say!”

The men nodded. She sounded like she knew what she was doing, like she had been in this situation before. Experience bore knowledge, and they weren’t looking to question her any time soon. Especially after Diego. After he decided to take matters into his own hands and expose Sin Nombre to the Vaqueros and their gringo friends… Well, the Las Almas Cartel finally got its first taste of near-death. Valeria never wanted that to happen ever again. 

Through the dark, they saw the shape of the sicario return. 

“Ma’am! I can’t find the fuse box!”

“What?” She scoffed, “What do you mean?”

“I could’ve sworn it was the door under the stairs but when I looked…”

“When you looked?”

“Nothing.”

I knew my senses wouldn’t fail me.

She smiled resignedly as she turned back to her lieutenants. It was them, wasn’t it? And they had brought their kid-soldiers with them.

“We do not separate. Understood? We need to be touching at all times.”

Once more, they nodded. 

The last thing Valeria wanted was someone sneaking up on her, let alone a little girl wielding a knife that was clearly made for an adult soldier. Weirdly enough, a mild wave of nostalgia overtook Valeria for a second. She remembered being that little girl, holding the knife of her overseer, wielding it like she knew how to use it. Whoever tripped the power, they should run whilst they still had time. 

A creak sounded overhead. Valeria kept deathly quiet, bringing a hand to her face to dampen her breaths. She advised her men to do the same. Thump. Thump. Thump. Footsteps echoed above. 

Any minute now. Any minute now. 

BANG!

“AHHHHHH!”

Gunshots and screams ensued and the signature drumbeat of someone tumbling down the stairs told Valeria that now it was time to run. 

“7223, this is 72. Sin Nombre is currently holed up in the main dining room on the ground floor. I got three guys here that 23 and I are trying to… ‘convince’ that the whole Mexican army have broken down the door.”

Graves grinned under his mask; the sounds of men howling numbers, which were constantly increasing in order of magnitude, signified that those girls were doing their job and doing it well.

“Roger that. 7629 and 7152 are makin’ some noise to try and disperse the rest of the crowd. Do your best to send her up to me.”

“Where are you?”

“Second floor. Entered via an open window in the study. 7418’s coming to you.”

“Copy.”

“Remember, this goes for you and 23, we want to make as much noise as possible, so don’t try and start any fights. Just clear the way for Sin Nombre. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

The two girls kept posted by the cupboard under the stairs, making sure that every single person who walked past it saw nothing but plain wood and saw that the halls were teeming with soldiers. 23 felt the sound in her chest as someone behind them was thrown down, slamming into the bottom step before landing onto the floor, too broken to even think about getting up. Jogging down the stairs, gun in hand was 7418 as expected. He casually flicked a loc over his shoulder as he hunted around for the girls. 

Sniffing the air, he managed to catch a whiff of something familiar. He turned to face their direction.

Just to make sure, he pressed down on his radio. 

“7418, here. Am I looking at 72 and 23 right now? Are you two standing by the cupboard under the stairs?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, great. Get out of your shrouds and follow me.”

“Roger.”

He watched the two girls fade back into existence a few feet across from him, the dark hiding their shapes from everyone but him. If 7418 didn’t have his mask on, his eyeshine would be breaking through the dark like two ghostly peepers. 

They made their way to the dining room, hoping Valeria would be there, just as how they had left her. Except, she wasn’t. It wasn’t much of an issue, however, seeing as a door had been left to swing wide open, leading to a study connecting the dining room to yet another hallway. They could hear her distant calls for order as she watched the entire house unravel all around her. 

7418 grinned under his mask. This was going to be fun. 

As ‘heel-snapper’, it was his job to get the prey into 7223’s clutches and that was what he was going to do. He ran into the dining room, girls following closely behind, watching his six. A low growl rumbled from deep within his chest as he pointed his gun around, jumping to aim at any slight sign of movement. 

He caught sight of a man sat in the corner, cowering. 

7418 lowered his weapon, squatting down before the hunched figure.

“Where is Sin Nombre?” He asked in his native Spanish.

The quivering mess shakily pointed to the door leading out of the dining area into yet another hallway, which, no doubt, led back to the main staircase. 

“Thank you.”

With that, he got up and let the guy be.

It was chaos in this mansion: people were screaming, throwing things at walls, hoping to hit non-existent soldiers, while others lay curled up on the floor, muttering nonsense, brains reduced to a frothing, frantic mess under the influence of those two potent lamias.

Valeria pushed sicarios out the way, chucking them down the stairs as she clambered haphazardly up to the first floor. She didn’t dare look back, knowing already that someone was hot on her tail. It was an Arcadian Son, she could sense it, an aura of something drawing nearer and nearer, the stench of iron filling her nose. As the woman made it to the top of the staircase, she readied herself to take a right and dash into the nearest room she could find, hoping to perhaps use an open window or balcony exit to escape. However, that plan was thwarted as a sicario burst from her target room, tripping and landing on the floor with a thud. As he tried to scramble back onto his feet, a Son appeared from the dark depths of that boudoir, the lower front of his mask lifted to reveal a mouth coated in saliva.

They were such beasts.

Valeria shuddered, encouraging her remaining lieutenants to keep close to her and not to look at what would become of that poor sicario.

Not that they needed to look, the sounds of bones crunching and gurgling screams said it all.

The next floor would have to do, she couldn’t afford to waste time looking for another room on this floor.

Her pursuer was still after her and she caught a glimpse of him as she rounded the corner to grab hold of the next set of bannisters. As she saw him, her heart picked up the pace, recognising those reddish brown locs.

Jaime.

He watched her eyes soften.

Why bother? 7418 found this laughable, you are the reason I’m here.

His clawed gloves dug into the railing’s wooden surface as he drew himself up the staircase.

Valeria’s heart was in her mouth, watching the faceless demon draw nearer and nearer, throwing formidable cartel members out of the way like they were nothing but inconvenient obstacles. She was now down to two lieutenants, with Lucas meeting his premature end via a bullet through the eye socket, going straight through his brain. 

“7418 here. Target is heading up to the second floor via the main staircase.”

“Copy. Herd her up to the second floor. I’m moving into the master bedroom now. Found a few guys here that aren’t backing down.”

“Roger. I’m gonna have the girls throw a canister down to clear more of the way, make sure your mask’s filter is on.”

“Copy that.”

7418 gestured for 72 to throw another burning canister onto the ground and smoke out the rest of the floor as they reached the top of the staircase. She did so, chucking yet another metal container into the air, watching it slam to the ground and begin hissing. Another blanket of white smoke had been left in their wake, causing those who hadn’t leapt out of windows to start choking, gasping for air as their eyes teared up. 

23 made sure to keep any rasping victims of the crowd control continuously subdued, gesturing to 72 to continue to be backup for 7418 as she split from the trio. 23 had made the staircase her domain now, creeping over to each and every convulsing body, quickly putting them into a deep slumber with the cold kiss of her mind.

Only the lights from the city outside and the swarming flashlights of bewildered patrons guided her way, pupils constantly switching from being blown out to constricting. Her eyes ached, but not as much as her legs. Her thighs burned, adrenaline fuelling her to keep going as she clawed her way up the stairs to the second floor, hoping to find a quick exit onto the rooftop and maybe then she could disappear into the city. Remnants of the gas from below scratched at the back of her throat, ragged breaths rasping a little. 

“7418, I’m back in the study.”

“Understood. Making my way there now.”

Valeria stopped at the crossroads at the top of the staircase, she could see that the study had an open window, which swung back and forth in the breeze. 

However, there was also the master bedroom and its balcony. 

Decisions. Decisions. 

She looked behind and saw 7418 was still there. 

In the heat of the moment, she did something which she would soon realise was a grave mistake. Valeria grabbed one of her lieutenants and pushed him towards the door to the master bedroom, hoping the sudden movement would distract the Foundation dog long enough for her and whoever was left behind to make an escape.

As expected, though he was playing along, she watched 7418 dive after him, grabbing the lieutenant before he could scramble away. 

She didn’t care to look at what would become of him, dashing into the study and slamming the door behind her, locking it. 

Panting, she took a moment to collect herself and her breaths. 

“Boss! What the fuck?!”

“It was the only way, Alvaro! Now, stay close. Please.”

Shakily, he nodded as Valeria ran to the other side of the room to close the other door, locking it.

She could see the gas starting to seep through from underneath and promptly pulled her scarf over her nose and mouth, gesturing for Alvaro to do the same. Both of them, with their faces covered, rummaged round the study for weapons. With an adrenaline-filled, giddy giggle, Alvaro located a handgun. 

“Great! Okay, let’s-”

Valeria was interrupted as the door to the study, the one she had just locked, was ripped cleanly off its hinges. 

“Hey.”

She drew in a breath, edging towards the window, only for the masked soldier to fire at it, causing her to reel back with a yelp. 

“Don’t.” He spoke with a southern accent, though it was slightly distorted, presumably by the mask’s modulator, “No one needs to get hurt here.”

She scoffed. 

“Sin Nombre, you’re coming with us.”

“Whatever it is the Foundation wants this time… Tell them I refuse.” Valeria did her best to keep her head high.

“You and I both know they won’t be taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

She watched him take a step closer… and she took a step back. Valeria knew she recognised that voice, or at least this one sounded familiar to someone she had met fairly recently. Who was it? Her panicked mind couldn’t quite place him…

“Stand down and come with us.”

Valeria couldn’t. She couldn’t this time. She was sick and tired of these fuckers and their featureless, ghoulish faces.

“I’m giving you a chance here, girl.” Graves’ patronising call for civility made her blood boil.

Whilst Valeria still had some patience left to actually decide if it would be foolish to see if she had enough adrenaline and fear left in her to make a run for it, her remaining lieutenant’s patience had long since run dry. He looked between the two of them, before raising his gun and…

“ALVARO! DON’T-”

BANG!

Graves recoiled, the sound of something shattering like glass filling the room as he clutched his mask. 

“Canister broken. Alert. Canister broken.” An automated voice called out from within his helmet.

He looked down to see, along with the shards of broken canister, red liquid coating his gloved palm, dripping from it. 

“Alert. Canister broken. Alert-”

Valeria looked to her lieutenant, fuming. 

“Idiot! What have you done?!”

“What are you talking about? He was going to-”

Their voices faded into white noise as Graves’ head began to pound. A pain pulsed, seemingly from the back of his skull, moving across to fester behind his eyes. He groaned, holding his head in his hands as the pain only increased in intensity. 

Valeria watched with wide eyes as he staggered forward, red fumes spewing from the broken canister. 

This was her opportunity, she made her way to climb out the window, only for those very fumes to suddenly lunge at her, her throat seizing up. Valeria clawed at her neck, coughing, lowering herself from her perch on the windowsill. 

He could hear his heartbeat drum away in his ears. Something inside him burned.

“Alert. Alert. Alert.” The automated voice drawled on, “Please, remove your canisters.”

With the coordination of a drunk, Graves’ arm sloppily moved to his lower half of his face and twisted. The shattered canister was removed, along with the intact one, both slipping out of his grip and landing on the mahogany floor.

Despite this sudden setback, the mission was still on for Phillip, and he staggered forward, reaching out for Valeria.

Wheezing with the noxious gases of both the crowd control seeping in from outside and whatever was leaking from the soldier’s canisters, Valeria tottered back, trying to make out some clarity through her blurred vision.

Graves’ legs suddenly gave way for a brief second and he found himself slipping, grabbing hold of the writing desk which stood between him and his quarry, using it for support.

 “Removing muzzle.” The helmet announced.

The mechanism hissed and Valeria and her lieutenant watched the lower half of his mask segment. Two triangular pieces pushed forward before moving up, revealing a mouth hung slightly open. Strings of saliva dripped from his lips as he took in deep breaths, sounding like he was struggling to breathe himself. She knew what was happening, she knew, and she needed to act before he did.

Throw and run. Throw and run.

Valeria pushed Alvaro towards the Arcadian Son, watching him catch the man, holding him tightly by the shoulders. Alvaro whimpered, looking at him with a face of confusion and dread. The man squirmed a little, fighting against Phillip’s grip, only for it to tighten.

Graves needed those canisters back… or at least a suitable replacement. The smell. The smell! 

Blood… he needed blood.

His fingers dug into the lieutenant’s upper arms. A certain uneasiness had made itself known. It was like Phillip was falling asleep, and yet, his body was very much awake and working. Conscious thought was beginning to fade. The room was spinning around him. There was nausea mixed with this insatiable need. 

The muscles in his jaw tensed, teeth grinding against each other. 

Hungry… the sensation articulated, Hungry…

Time had come to a standstill. It was just Phillip and the man caught in his claw-like grasp. 

Those canisters… what they had… he needed that. He needed that now!

Hungry… Hungry… Hungry… HU-

CRACK! SNAP! SQUELCH!

Alvaro let out an unholy cry as the monster unhinged its jaw and sunk its teeth into his neck. Valeria’s eyes widened in horror, the bile rising in her throat as she beheld the thing reel its head back, a chunk of Alvaro in its mouth, before spitting out the piece of flesh and diving in for seconds. Alvaro tried to lean back, to avoid the jaws, but its teeth had a sure grip on him, and he was swiftly pulled back to Phillip’s armoured chest.

Again, another screech.

Wet red coated the soldier’s lips as its tongue ran over its teeth, licking up the fruits of its hunt. 

The lieutenant was dead now, hanging limp in the animal’s jaw as it shoved him onto the floor, continuing its feast. 

She was paralysed, the gases slowly clouding her thoughts as she watched it shake its head side to side, grabbing hold on some of the more… resistive tissue. Arteries, tendons, muscles, all were either chewed on or cast aside. 

What was before her was an animal, wearing the skin of a man, and wearing it poorly. She felt her legs give way and Valeria fell to the ground. 

The noise of her fall made the creature stop. It looked up at her. Even though she couldn’t see its eyes thanks to the mask still covering most of the soldier’s face, she knew it was staring at her. It snarled, baring its fanged teeth. She was paralysed, fixed in place, her vision blurring as she watched it rise from the ground and approach her frozen body. She wanted to run, wanted to scream but she was too weak now.

Valeria didn’t know what stung more: her helplessness or her still-burning, fervent desire to just run.

The last thing she saw was the shape of the Arcadian Son squatting down before her, hand reaching out to her face. 

She had succumbed to the fumes of the open blood canister. 

***

You were positively famished. Gaz watched you pile your tray with as much food as you could before you came to your senses and realised any more would be deemed as… excessive. Food was one of the finest pleasures in life and you were not passing up on this opportunity for a hot meal- that was for sure!

Coming back from the kitchens and into the mess hall was a feast for the senses. The sounds of chatter and clinking cutlery, the visuals of many crowded around long tables, hunched over stools, the smells of warm meals and the odd beverage. You couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed, taking it all in as Gaz led you to the table 141 were sat at.

Gaz placed himself next to Price, nudging him as the man turned from looking at Laswell’s laptop to greet the sergeant.

Your heart fluttered a little as you searched for somewhere to sit.

Laswell was sandwiched between Price and Soap.

Rudy’s empty space had just been snagged by his friend, who you heard Rudy address as ‘Alejandro’.

That only left the empty stool next to Ghost.

Ah.

This was fine! No biggie! You’d just set your tray down and begin…

As you made to sit, you saw the man look over to you from the corners of his eyes.

You swallowed hard, sheepishly sitting next to him, trying not to combust under that powerful gaze. It was like his eyes were irradiated; there was just something about them, the way he appeared both uncaring and almost drowsy and yet still very much aware of his surroundings. He was like a sleeping lion.

“Mind if I sit here?” You did your best to be as friendly as possible, hoping to thaw out his slightly… frosty demeanour.

“Well, you’re already sat.” He gestured to you with his cup.

Right, yeah… stupid question.

You chuckled, putting your tray down.

That was when Laswell looked up from her screen.

“Oh?” She remarked, “Hungry, aren’t we?”

You rolled your eyes.

“No! No!” Laswell raised her hands, “It’s good! You should eat up. I’m sure you haven’t had a good meal in a while.”

She smiled encouragingly and you exhaled through your nose… and then began to eat. Although you were incredibly hungry, you still wanted to show you had good table manners and so elected to not inhale everything on your tray. As you ate, you could feel Ghost’s eyes were still on you.

Just get it over with, you supposed.

“Look,” your stool creaked a little as you turned to face him, “I’m… sorry about this morning. I should have knocked, honestly, it was a stupid-”

“No.” He shook his head, “I’m sorry. I should have locked the door.”

Huh? You thought you were the one saying sorry here… Great, now you felt obliged to really say sorry.

You had expected him to just go ‘okay’ or huff or whatever… you thought it would end there.

However, his apology had thrown a spanner in the works.

“No…” You sighed, “I’m sorry. I came in. I saw your arse. My fault.”

Ghost’s eyes narrowed a little. That didn’t sound as apologetic as the previous one. Now, it just sounded like you were trying to assert something here.

“Y/N. It’s fine. I should have locked the door and-”

“And I should have not been so absent-minded. I’m sorry.”

Okay, what is going on here?

He leaned back a little, peering at you quizzically.

“Are you really apologising or are you just trying to prolong this for some reason?”

“No! I’m saying I’m sorry.” You pointed to yourself, looking perplexed by his response.

“Yeah and?”

“And what?”

“Well,” Ghost scratched the back of his neck, “It feels like you’re not saying sorry.”

“But I am. I feel bad about what happened.”

“Yeah, I do too.” He chuckled, “You’re already probably traumatised enough and then you had to see that in the early hours of the morning.”

“Your tan line was pretty stark.” You mumbled.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

Ghost looked like he was about to say something probably a bit too harsh. Hence, he stopped and re-evaluated.

“Y/N.” He began, “What… Okay, what do you expect to get out of this conversation?”

You were very straightforward with your answer.

“I say sorry and I, uh, expected that you would kinda accept it.”

“Yeah.”

“Except that didn’t happen.” You thought out loud, “You ended up saying sorry.”

He nodded.

“And now I’m thinking that I need to emphasise that I’m sorry, so you get the message that I’m sorry because I am sorry, and I didn’t mean to see you naked and-”

“WHAT?” Soap blurted out from across you two.

Now, the entire table was looking at you and Ghost.

Gaz’s jaw was on the floor. Price had paused mid-bite, his spoonful of porridge slopping back into his bowl. Both of Rudy’s eyebrows were raised, whilst Alejandro looked over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off of the two of you as he brought a cereal bar to his mouth. Laswell had a face of both horror and confusion.

“There’s context here, I promise.” You tried to explain, looking back at Ghost to help you out.

“Shower.” He replied.

“I think we need some elaborating there, bud.”

Soap nodded, looking at the two of you with wide eyes and a grimace… which was slowly evolving into a mischievous grin.

“I was in the shower.” The lieutenant explained.

“And were you also in the shower, Y/N?” Someone asked, albeit dreading the possible answer.

“No. I came in and accidentally stumbled upon him.”

Then, you shuddered.

“There was not much left to the imagination.” You said aloud, not realising it was to the whole group.

“Y/N!” Ghost growled.

Only for Soap to burst out laughing, slapping his knee as Price did his best to contain himself. Gaz doubled over, cackling as Rudy just shook his head, sighing. Alejandro covered his mouth with his free hand. Meanwhile, Laswell was doing her best not to join in with the raucous laughter, twisting her face into all kinds of expressions.

Ghost tried to hide, placing his hand on his forehead. Under that mask, undoubtedly, he was bright red.

You were astounded, coming to the revelation that you had just blurted that out.

Oh gosh!

Biting down on your lip, you turned to Ghost.

“I am so-”

“Sorry?” He finished your sentence for you, “You better be, Y/N.”

You had such a large grimace on your face, your insides collapsing in on themselves as your brain wracked itself for a possible solution to this mess.

“They’ve only been here, what, two days? And they managed to see Ghost… Ghost! Of all people! Ghost naked?!” Alejandro shook his head, “Amazing! I have to commend you, friend!”

Oh, how you wanted to just keel over and die, once more!

“Well, I… uh…” You scratched your cheek, “I… didn’t mean to-”

“Honestly, Y/N,” Soap managed to get out between fits of laughter, “You’ve done us all proud. I know you’re not officially part of the team, but you have made 141 history!”

He held his hand out.

You looked to Ghost, who looked to be shrinking further and further away from everyone.

“Soap, they are not going to shake your hand over seeing my bare arse.” The lieutenant sighed.

The sergeant blew a raspberry at him and twitched his fingers, beckoning for you.

“Come on!”

You smiled, politely declining… for Ghost’s sake.

“I swear,” Price couldn’t help but let out a snicker, “Laswell brings in the most bizarrely impactful people I ever meet.”

Kate looked over to him, rolling her eyes.

“I often find highly skilled people are often some of the most… eccentric.”

“Y/N’s skilled?” Soap studied you, curiosity alight in his eyes.

“Oh please!” Laswell returned her gaze to her laptop, dragging something with her mouse, “Don’t even bother sparring with them.”

Soap had other plans, however. He took Kate’s words as a challenge and a hunger to test your mettle was set aflame in him.

“Alejandro and I were sparring before lunch. Maybe after we finish up, you and I could hit the mat?”

“Uh…” Your eyes fell to Laswell, who looked over the edge of her laptop screen, shaking her head.

Bad idea, Y/N. Don’t do it!

“As much as I’d love to, Soap… I think I’ll have to-”

“I got a better idea.” Gaz interrupted, “Y/N and Ghost.”

‘Ooohs’ and ‘aaaahs’ circulated round the table, people nodding their heads in agreement.

Laswell was now boring holes into your skull, shaking her head so vigorously that you thought it might come clean off.

Soap looked to the masked lieutenant.

“What do you say, sir?”

Ghost leaned back in his seat, pausing to think.

Please say ‘no’. Please say ‘no’. Say ‘no’ so then I don’t have to say ‘no’.

“Fuck it.” He sighed, resting his forearms on the table as he brought himself forward, “You placing a bet?”

“Two-hundred-and-twenty-five pesos.” Soap slammed his fist down on the table.

“What is that?” Price stroked his moustache, “Ten quid?”

“Yep.”

“You could buy a lot of bars from the vending machine with that.” Gaz muttered under his breath.

“What say you, Y/N?” Price retrieved his hat from under the table, placing it one his head, “Do you think you could take on the Ghost?”

You looked to Ghost, examining him.

He was a big fella, and you were pretty sure he could snap you in half like a pencil if he wanted to. Yeah, if you were just your average joe, you’d be fucked. However, lucky for you, you weren’t your run-of-the-mill soldier. Maybe you could stand a chance? Or at least, hold your own just a bit longer than the average person?

As you were about to open your mouth, Laswell suddenly spoke up.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea having Y/N fight. I mean,” she seemed to have an unusually nervous tone, “they’ve probably been through a lot already. It wouldn’t be fair.”

The soldiers all turned to face you.

Sure, you were scarred for life but at the same time, you had this really crippling disease called ‘a sense of pride’. As the men had been discussing who would win and once that wager was announced… you sort of… you were getting the feeling… Look, you wanted to win.

Maybe a bit of sparring could help too. The yoga had been could for some much-needed contemplation, but you were undeniably buzzing with energy that needed an appropriate outlet. All that anxiety, all that fear, it needed somewhere to go other than fester inside you.

After all, you were in control now. You could do as you pleased.

In spite of Laswell’s clear discouragement, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

“You’re on.” You said to Ghost.

He let out a ‘hmph’ and picked up his empty tray.

“Meet me in the garage when you’re ready.”

You nodded.

“I look forward to it.”

As you followed Soap to the garage, Laswell grabbed your arm.

“Y/N!” She sounded a little breathless, like she had ran after you, “This is a bad idea. You can’t do this.”

“Why not? I… I want to, Kate.”

“You could seriously hurt him, kid.”

You scoffed.

“Please! Hurt him? The man is built like a goddamn fridge. I think I should be more worried about me.”

Laswell shook her head.

“They’re not Sons. They aren’t gonna hit you as hard you think they will, you can’t counter like you usually would.”

“I’ll be careful, Kate. I promise.”

“You have to be, Y/N. Please.”

You nodded; your face sincere.

Laswell let out a shaky sigh and continued down the corridor to the garage with the rest of the group.

Alejandro pushed the door open to the garage, the sound of the radio filling your ears as you entered.

He whistled to catch his Vaqueros’ attention.

“¡Despeja el área para el combate!”

They nodded and moved their boxes and makeshift workbenches away from the far end of the room. Then, those same men gathered around, forming a small horseshoe which 141 gladly made themselves additions to, sitting on rucksacks or simply on the floor.

Alejandro turned to the group.

“We are staking two-hundred-and-twenty-five on this! Place your bets on either Y/N… or Ghost.”

People took out their money, putting it either Price’s hat to wager on Ghost, or Gaz’s cap to bet on you.

As the hats were brought to Alejandro to put in his wager, he noticed Gaz’s cap was significantly lighter than Price’s hat, which drooped a little under the heavier weight.

Poor kid… he thought to himself.

He did feel bad not a lot of people had faith in you, but with that he had seen and heard about Ghost, regrettably, Alejandro had to put down his money on the lieutenant.

The overhanging lights flickered a little as Laswell watched with bated breath, chewing on the skin of her index finger as she watched you limber up.

“Come on, Lt!” Soap yelled.

You watched Ghost shed the last of his overlayers, so now he was in merely the standard olive-green shirt and his camo trousers.

Yep, you could feel your nerves getting to you a little.

He was built to kill with strong arms, strong legs and well, a strong torso. That man could probably stay in a plank for a century.

You swallowed hard, letting out a sharp exhale, and raised your arms into a guard.

Alejandro stood between you two, his arm dividing your sides of the imaginary ring.

“Ready…”

Come on.

“Three…”

I can do this!

“Two…”

If I can fight off Arcadian Sons, I can fight off this guy.

“One…”

Oh, he looks really scary though!

“Go!”

To Ghost’s surprise, you charged first, striking upwards, hoping to punch straight through his skull. He dodged with minimal effort, hoping to make for a quick jab to your stomach only to then be met with a swift uppercut.

“Ouch!” Soap winched, watching his lieutenant stagger back in surprise, clutching the lower half of his face.

The room had fallen into silence, and you looked around, wondering why.

That’s when you heard laughter.

You turned to face Ghost.

“Nice one.” He said before he swung at you.

You yelped, blocking it, before coming in with a counterstrike.

He blocked with his forearms, easily, and you punched, hitting him hard. He staggered back a little but didn’t drop his guard. Hoping to catch him where he wasn’t protecting himself, you aimed and swung at Ghost once more. However, he was as quick as you, despite what you had initially thought, and swiftly brought one of his arms around both of yours, trapping you in the crook of his elbow.

You squirmed, trying to fight his grip but he was stronger than you.

He spun you around, looking down at you with those piercing brown eyes. You snarled in reply, continuing to wriggle about.

Soap couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched the two of you.

“They look absolutely tiny compared to him.” He commented to Gaz.

“Size isn’t everything.” Was Gaz’s reply.

Ghost could feel himself starting to get a little cocky as you desperately tried to writhe out of his grip. He was just too strong, fixing you in place. He could see there was fire in your eyes, but it was pretty much useless, you were stuck to him like glue.

Again, he spun you around, almost making a display of this.

You groaned, pushing against him with all you could, leaning back as far as your body let you.

“Alejandro,” Ghost hollered, “Come on!”

He gestured to you struggling.

“This is hardly a fair fight!”

Alejandro looked to the crowd, wondering if he should call it quits.

You gritted your teeth and suddenly, like it was nothing, you broke free from him. Then, it was a flurry of fury. You punched him in the face, kneed him in the gut, grabbed him and-

The whole room gasped as you picked up a man, clearly much heavier than you, and threw him to the floor, over your shoulder.

Ghost rolled out the way as your boot landed on the ground, a small quake shaking in his chest from the impact. Being extra careful now, he tried to get behind you.

Now, it was his turn to let the bodies hit the floor.

As you were about to turn and strike upwards, he struck below, grabbing your legs. He lifted you up and dropped you. You fell face-first onto the ground, the wind getting knocked out of you.

Just about recovering, you made to get up. That was when Ghost hit your back. Hard.

“I call that move ‘the bellyflop’.” Soap remarked, eliciting a small chuckle from Price.

Gaz winced, feeling the pain in your voice as you let out a loud groan.

Laswell felt as though something was caught in her chest. This was going too far for her; she was afraid something was going to happen. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

“Okay, I think we’re good.” Kate made to get up, “Alejandro, can we call this off?”

“Come on, Laswell! Give Y/N a chance. We’ve not even been here five minutes.”

She shook her head.

You crawled on your belly, desperately trying to get away from him. You could see Ghost’s shadow approaching.

Panic. Panic. Panic. PANIC!

He was after you. After your blood.

Your breaths grew shallow, and you could feel the adrenaline course through you.

Got. To. Get. Up. Got. To Get. Away.

The shadow of a hand was raised, coming for you.

Your eyes widened.

Laswell, chuckled, though there was no humour behind it.

“No. I think we’ve seen-”

Ghost let out a bloodcurdling scream as you raised yourself and donkey-kicked him… Right in the crotch.

Everyone gasped.

Soap couldn’t even look.

Price felt his soul leave his body.

You turned around and got up onto your feet, keeping your guard up.

Ghost had bent over, hissing in pain.

You were back in the room.

Like you had woken up from a dream, clarity dawned on you, and you realised who you were fleeing from.

What had just happened?

You were… Oh…

You were back in the room.

“Sorry,” you peered at him through your raised arms, “that was a strong kick to your gut.”

“You didn’t… kick… my…” He couldn’t even finish his sentence, a wave of nausea getting to him.

“Medic!” Gaz yelled, running out of the room, “I’m getting a medic!”

His footsteps echoed down the corridor.

You put a hand over your mouth, connecting the dots, and ran to Ghost’s side.

“Holy shit! Holy shit!” Your heartrate had skyrocketed, hands clammy as you hover them over him.

Soap got up and immediately coming to Ghost as soon as he saw the guy was in pain for real.

“What have I done?!” You whimpered, “Shit!”

“You didn’t use all your strength, did you?” Laswell asked.

You shook your head.

“No! No! I’m not stupid. Why would I-”

“I feel like I’m gonna vomit.” Ghost rasped.

“Fucking hell!” Price got up from his seat, “I’m gonna go see if Gaz has got a hold of someone. Keep by his side and don’t make this worse.”

“Let’s lie him on his back.” Laswell instructed.

You all did so, easing Ghost onto the ground. You were properly freaking out, praying you hadn’t damaged anything permanently.

Kate looked so disappointed, which felt worse to you for some reason. You’d rather she’d just jumped down your throat instead of this. This felt heavy. This felt constricting. The very air you were breathing was weighted with what you had just done.

“Hold my hand, sir.” Soap pleaded.

“No… Johnny, I… I don’t need to hold your hand.” Ghost slapped his hand away with a grumble.

“I am so sorry!” You squeaked out.

“You… You… Oh God… Fuck me, Y/N.”

Ghost lay his head on the floor, trying to breathe out the waves of sharp agony and nausea. The room was beginning to spin, and it was so painful down there that Ghost couldn’t even tell what kind of pain he was in. From hot to cold, to burning, to feeling like someone had stabbed him right up there… Oh God… he was seeing stars!

A poor medic came rushing through the crowd, looking beyond fed up.

“You stupid, stupid men!” She scolded you all, “What happened to him?”

“Y/N kicked him in the balls.”

“Oh sweet Jesus.”  She pinched the bridge of her nose.

Then, the medic sighed, “Ghost, can you stand?”

“No…”

“Okay,” she turned to face all of you, “could you give this man some privacy, please?”

They all immediately got up and left.

“I can’t believe this.” She muttered under her breath as she got out her first aid kit.

As you were about to go and contemplate how to avoid Ghost and his inevitable wrath, Soap tapped your shoulder.

“Hey, Y/N. We can wait in the corridor if you like. I’m sure he’ll be fine but, you know, I want to make sure and uh… I don’t exactly want to be waiting on my own.”

[vivilove-jonsa]

Hello,

Since you've published a book I was wondering if I may ask a couple question?

Does it feel different from writing fanfictions?

Do you find your self relating to GRRM's pace of writing like the long years between books?

How did you like your covers for your original works? Did it take long to pick out?

This is just crack question but any chance there's a minor red headed character with her dark haired partner? You know as a little Easter egg jk. But in all seriousness we always knew you could sell your works and I'm glad you took the chance!

Hello!

Wow, I'm flattered that you want to know this stuff so thank you for asking! I'll happily answer each one below the cut :)

Does it feel different from writing fanfictions?

Yes. The joy of writing is still very much with me but there's some major differences and things I've had to adapt to when looking to sell books as an unknown author versus writing fanfic for a pairing that people are seeking out. The biggest is the wait for validation. Can't post a chapter of an idea, see how people respond and start crafting a story from there. You write the whole damn novel with little to no input from anyone else and then put it out there for critique before publishing.

It may sound weird but I've found more freedom writing original works in some ways and more restrictions in others.

The restrictions involve more planning, outlining and plotting. I have to stay on track instead of indulging in Side-Character B's backstory or a secondary romance, etc. Also, I would hop from genre to genre with my AUs and, while there are authors doing that I'm sure, it's not a safe bet for a newbie looking to make money. So, I found a niche in contemporary romance that I enjoy reading and writing and I dove in. I'll probably tackle another niche with a new pen once I've got ten or so books under my belt with the current pen name to try it out.

The freedoms involve making my characters whoever they tell me they are. No one will scream 'that's OCC!' because these are my characters. There's no trappings of canon or expectations in that sense either although romance readers tend to have favored tropes, etc and they expect you to stick to the 'formula of romance.' Also, I miss talking fic with other writers and fans of my Jonsa works as there's more distance between me as an author and people who read my books. Don't get me wrong, I love interacting with some of them who have reached out but the gap is there and it can feel lonelier.

Do you find yourself relating to GRRM's pace of writing like the long years between books?

No, lol. This is a side hustle for me but a romance writer would starve going at his pace unless you had that miracle hit right off the bat (which is soooooo rare) and even then you need to keep producing product to keep from becoming obsolete. I started my first novel February 1st last year. I will have FIVE completed by February 1st of this year. I'm shooting to average a book every 3 months this year at least. It takes me roughly six to eight weeks to write it and the remaining time goes into editing, formatting and submitting for ARC reviews. Quality AND quantity are the name of the game to earn money. In GRRM's defense though, my books average 75k words and one of those five was a novella at 40k words. And my books are romance centering on two individuals which are far less complicated to tell than his enormous fantasy opus with a cast of hundreds.

How did you like your covers for your original works? Did it take long to pick out?

Yes, I love them! The cover of your book is the single most important part of your passive marketing and you want your book to be as to-market as possible to attract readers in your genre and niche. My niche involves hot guys in suits on the covers and my dear friend made them for me except one which I paid a graphic artist $75 to do an illustrated cover for. Anyway, we would tinker and talk about the color or font, the placement of the title, etc. but, for me at least, this was a simple process. Some self-published folks spend far more time working on theirs or might pay hundreds of dollars on them but mine seem to draw eyes just fine. Maybe once I'm making bank more steadily I'll consider farming this out to a pro.

Any chance there's a minor red headed character with her dark haired partner?

Absolutely!! In fact, my first book includes a pairing that looks suspiciously like Jonsa (I changed the eye color for her and gave him Kit's brown eyes though). Partly, that's because the original idea for the book was going to be a Jonsa story until I decided to switch gears. My third book has a guy that fits Jon's description and my novella includes elements of Sansa's love of songs and such in the female lead. It's fun to have bits of the characters I love in my books even when they're my own creations.

Thanks so much for this delicious ask! Lots of fun to answer <3

[the-bird-and-the-flute]

Ayakashi - Koga Kitamikado - Wasted Love

Pairing: futaba (adult) x koga kitamikado

Warnings: assault, alcohol, bad language

Word count: 1.415

A/N: this fic is an alternative story based on his card 100 yearnings of love (that he gets wasted in the entertainment quarter with oji). Futaba here is an adult and she works with her father. She is almost Koga's age. Btw, I wrote this fic almost a year ago but I was too lazy to edit it. Now it seems a great moment to post it, as today is Koga’s bday!!!! Happy birthday, my oni ogre. I’ll always always love you, even if I can’t play ayakashi anymore. Voltage can’t take you away from me!!!!

Koga went to town to have so fun with his friends. Thankfully, he can take the rest of the night off to chill, which is unusual considering there is always something urgent for him to do.

The entrepreneur always receives invitations to fancy parties and the likes, but today, he just wants to vibe with his closest friends.

These men are bachelors, who, by chance, also love sake. Their motto is to always drink to their heart's contents.

Today, a very traditional restaurant is holding a sake tasting in their establishment to promote local sake businesses. The perfect event for guys like Koga and his friends. And as expected, sake lovers would never say no to this unique opportunity.

All Koga wants after a busy week is to taste that nectar on his oni lips until he quenches his thirst.

After hours of tasting all the types of sake available, they were far from being tired of drinking. One of the female attendants approached the rowdy group to ask if they would still like another round of sake.

“Would you like more sake handsome boys?”, said you one of the female attendants.

“Oh yeah, We're just getting started! Hahaha.”

“Huh! As if I would lose to you, Koga. Bring it on, lady!”

“HAHAHA. That's the spirit, Akira!”

While the attendant was laughing at the boys’ enthusiasm, a second friend of Koga, Hokuto, started flirting with her.

“And what about you pretty lady? You must be tired of just serving us. Why don't you join us instead?”

“Yeahhh! Don't worry about your boss, we can deal with him later. I'm sure he will understand”, shouted an excited Akira.

“I would love to! Thank you. I'll just get your drinks first.”

“Now we are talking about! Koga, you saw that? Ahhh, today is our lucky day!!! Sake and women are an unbeatable combo!”

“So you make sure she sits next to you, Akira. I have nothing to do with that. I just want the sake, you know.”

“Ohh, here you go again. Don’t worry, Koga. Futaba is not gonna get mad at you, we were the ones who invited her.”

Then, by accident, Koga knocked over some glasses that were on the table, making a huge noise in the establishment.

Luckily, most people didn't notice because it was late at night and the remaining customers were also wasted or too busy talking and laughing loud.

“Oops, hahaha. Where those glasses came from?”

“Is that him panicking just to the possibility of his sweetheart seeing him here with other women?

“Oi, don't talk as if I was not here... Futaba is a busy woman, but she is very understanding. No way she would… Ahhh, I don’t need to give you any explanation!”

“I'll pay for the broken glasses. Look, I have money!”

“Hahaha I thought you were going to use that money to buy more sake though!”

“Oh shit, true! But no worries! There is more where this came from! HAHAHA”

The attendant comes back with more sake for the rowdy men. After serving them, she sits at the table and starts drinking too.

But it doesn’t take long before one of the coworkers approaches to let her know she needs to get back to work because another group of costumers just arrived and someone needs to serve them.

As all the other attendants were extra busy, she excuses herself to wait on the other clients.

“Wow, kinda late to enter now, isn't it? What time is it anyway?”

“Hehehe, I don't know. But they are no idiots, Hokuto. Look those ladies with them.”

“Shit! Isn’t that…!”

Koga turns his head around to see what his friends were talking about. That's when he sees Futaba with some ladies and gentlemen sitting at a table on the other side of the establishment.

“WTF!?”. Without thinking twice, Koga gets up clumsily and rushes toward the table where Futaba just sat. His friends try to stop him, but they are too wasted to hold an infuriated and confused Koga, who was not ashamed of throwing a fit in public.

“Are you guys going to try some of these special sakes?”, said a cheerful Futaba.

“Futaba!”

“Huh? What was that?”. Futaba turns around to see Koga screaming her name from the other side of the restaurant. She gets shocked when she sees her beloved Koga walking towards her as if he was going to kill someone.

“What is happening, Futaba?”

“Err... I'm not sure myself. If you excus...”

“What are you doing?”, whispers one of Futaba’s female friends. “Do not leave the table with our patrons here! They will get offended.”

“Listen, I don’t know what Koga is doing here, but knowing him, it would be best if I try to calm him down first. He doesn't know these men. He may be worried about my safety…”

“No, Futaba. Stay here. You’ll make things worse. Now sit here next to me.”

In a split second, Koga approaches Futaba’s table. The oni ogre is foaming at the mouth. His red eyes shone like flames as if he was in a war zone ready to take the enemy down.

“ YOU TELL ME RIGHT NOW WHAT IS THIS!”

“Koga, can you please stop screaming? Your behavior next to my patrons is not acceptable! Let’s talk…”

“And who the fuck is that man? Get the fuck out of here, drunkard. If you touch any of the ladies here I will ask my bodyguards to kick you out right now!”, shouted one of the men at Futaba’s table.

“AM I TALKING TO YOU?! If you dare to interrupt my conversation with Futaba one more time. You'll regret ever coming here.”

“That's outrageous! This fucker needs to go immediately!”

Koga and the other men at Futaba's table kept yelling at each other when another friend of hers tried to cool down their spirits.

“Do you know who this guy is? Please, we are talking to Koga Kitamikado! It must be just some misunderstanding, okay? He is Futaba's lover. I'm sure he has his reasons to come here. Let’s all solve this like adults.”

“Yes, Sakura is right. I can handle this. It won't take long, I promise. I will just explain to Koga...”

“I don't give a fuck if he is a Kitamikado or not. No man is gonna ruin our...”

Before the man can finish his sentence, Koga punches the guy so hard that he goes down like a sack of potatoes, letting everyone in the establishment astonished by what they had just witnessed.

“KOGAAAA! LOOK WHAT YOU HAVE DONE! YOU PUNCHED ONE OF MY PATRONS!”

Koga's friends, who were watching the whole scene, decide to intervene once again by talking to the other men at Futaba's table and to Koga as well.

"Who on earth were the other men thinking? Inviting Fubata in the middle of the night to the entertainment quarter and expecting to get away with it with Koga watching the whole thing? Don’t these men hear the rumors about Koga and Futaba?", said a resigned Hokuto.

Somehow, even though they are all drunk, they manage to control the commotion. One of Koga’s friends escorted Futaba’s female friends, and the man who Koga knocked out was taken to the hospital. According to the rumors, he was conscious. Futaba and Koga took a carriage back to his place before he could assault other people.

Once the duo gets to Koga’s manor, Futaba promptly helps to carry him inside.

“Here, Koga. Let me help you. Come on. We're home. I mean... in your house.”

“I’m fine. I’m fine!”

“I think I'll beg to differ, but okay, if you're fine then you can go to your room by yourself while I head to my house.”

“Futaba, wait... Are you hurt? If those fuckers did something to you...”

“Please, stop it. You're exaggerating. It was just a business meeting. Look, we're getting close to your room. Don’t be too loud, okay? You may wake up, Kuya. And we don’t want that.”

After putting Koga on his bed, Futaba looks for some other blankets for Koga when she sees those red eyes staring at her.

“What is it, Koga?”

“Futaba… I’ll solve it, okay?”

“Huh?”

“I’ll not let anyone ruin your reputation because of me. I’ll talk to them tomorrow. Just stay the night here.”

Now knowing how to say no to those pleading red eyes looking at her, Futaba gets some extra blankets for herself as well.  

[ur-fav-alien]

Ring Pop Proposals

Just kinda a stupid thing to go w/ the Harringrove Week propmts list. Fair Mart, a summer holiday, and Max + Cheese {The last 2 have very small roles.... very.} Also warning for gay slurs because Hawkins is ho-ho-homophobic

Billy and Steve had gotten into a pretty nasty fight this afternoon. Robin had come over and made a one off-joke about how Steve should’ve gotten with someone better than Billy, and that was supposed to be the end of it, but Billy felt insecure about it because Steve had agreed with her. Jokingly or not, he had agreed with her and that just rubbed Billy the wrong way. 

Billy Hargrove was famous for not caring about what other people thought, but he cared about what Steve thought about him. So Billy had brought it up while they were making lunch, and Steve got defensive, and Billy spit out that he didn’t like Robin, and one thing led to another and spilled macaroni was all over their kitchen floor while they screamed at each other. 

And now they were both silent in Billy’s car as they drove to Fair Mart to get some birthday supplies because they had totally forgotten it was Max’s birthday. That was a new low for Billy. Despite whatever happened to him, he never forgot Max’s birthday. But of course, Steve Harrington had to change that. 

They were both well aware that Fair Mart would only have the bare minimums for what could be seen as ‘party food’, but the party was in 30 minutes and they had a 20 minute drive from their place to Max’s trailer park. They stormed out of the car and went into the small store, splitting up to find things that Max would like. 

Billy was looking around for some drinks to bring that those freshman losers would like when he turned his head to see Steve in the candy aisle, trying to remember what type Billy’s step-sister liked the best. He stopped searching for drinks and instead focused his attention on Steve as his nose was scrunched up and eyebrows were furrowed, pouring all his concentration into finding the right candy for that little redhead. 

And Billy couldn’t stay mad at him. Steve was his god damn everything. Steve was his fucking world. Steve didn’t even know how important he was to Billy, but he didn’t mind. He was more than satisfied to remind Steve every single day how important he was to the former bully. Billy was willing to wake up a little earlier to make them both coffee. Billy found a new movie that he might wanna watch? If Steve didn’t want to watch it, Billy would throw it out the window. Steve was struggling with something in his class? Who cares if Billy had a paper due the next morning? He was willing to push it to the side to help Steve. 

Steve could find someone better than him, Billy didn’t doubt that. He definitely had his moments, like when some 30-something-dude in his science class wouldn’t shut up and Billy chucked a water bottle at his head. Or when Max was getting too annoying, so he clamped his hand over her mouth for her to finally shut up. Or when Billy snapped at some cashier for dropping his food. Yeah, he could be an asshole, and yeah, Steve could get with someone so much better than him, but Steve had stayed. They had been together for a good 2 years now and Steve had yet to leave! He had every opportunity to! Billy had given him plenty of chances when he was at his lowest, but Steve fucking stayed. 

Who cares what Robin thought? Who cares what anyone thought about the two of them? Steve was Billy’s shining moon in his darkest nights, and no one could take that away from him. 

So Billy stomped his way into the candy aisle and snatched a ring pop from one shelf. To Steve’s surprise, Billy popped open the packaging, holding just the ring pop, and kneeled down on one knee. 

Steve gasped and held a hand to his mouth. There were like two other people in the store besides them and the cashier, and Billy was doing this. 

“Steve Harrington-” 

“Billy.”

“Shut up, listen.” Steve held both hands to his mouth, his eyes wide with shock. “You, Steve Harrington, are my fucking moon. You’re my stars in this deep existential void we call space, and I couldn’t be fucking happier. Why should I care what Robin thinks? Why should I care what anyone thinks? I’ve been with you for two long years and you haven’t left me yet, so why should I be insecure now?” Billy could see the cashier from the corner of his eye, and she was staring. “The point of life isn’t about caring what other people think! It’s about delaying your inevitable death and having a fun as fuck time doing it!” Billy pulled Steve’s arm down so he could take his hand. “So, Steve Harrington, will you delay your death with me and have a fun time doing it for the rest of our lives?” 

“Billy…” 

“And not care about what other people think.” He added. “And will you forgive me for our fight earlier? Jesus shit- I’m sorry- I should’ve written this down I-” 

“Yes!” Steve yelped, and Billy looked at him with wide eyes. “Yes! Just- Fucking- Yes to all of it!” 

Billy hopped to his feet and planted a big kiss to Steve’s lips while also messily putting the ring pop on Steve’s finger. Billy had never felt happier while kissing his now… fiance? They should probably work out what they wanted to call each other from now on. Billy was content with calling Steve anything he wanted. It was stupid, and this whole thing would usually make Billy gag because it was so ‘cute’ and Billy Hargrove wasn’t cute, but this was Steve. This was his Steve. It might’ve been a little cutesy, but he didn’t care, because he was doing it with Steve.  

The cashier gasped. “You guys are faggots!” 

“Shit!” Steve hissed, but Billy was already sprinting. 

“Get the candy!” He screamed while holding a liter of coke and rushing out the door with Steve not far behind him with an armful of sour patch kids. 

They both hurried into the car and started it. Billy’s heart was beating so loud he was completely positive that Steve could hear it - hell, Billy was sure that the entirety of Hawkins could hear it. They were so going to get killed. Billy was going to wake up one day in this apartment and have it burning because some homophobic assholes decided they weren’t worthy enough to live. 

And one of those people that wanted to kill Billy and Steve was one of the store patrons who came out behind them, yelling vulgar obscenities and picking up a stray brick to throw at the car. It nearly hit them, but they got away. They were cheering loudly, screaming at the top of their lungs because holy shit was that an adrenaline rush. Billy proposing with a ring pop, stealing shit from Fair Mart, and some angry asshole throwing a brick at them. What else could you ask for on a sunny summer birthday for a step-sister? 

Steve was running his hands through his and his wide pupils made it look like had been on some type of acid. “Holy shit- My- Holy shit! My parents are going to find out! Holy fuck- people are going to talk! So- so many people are going to talk! I can’t-” 

“Steve-” Billy put his hand on the man’s thigh, but he continued babbling nonsense. 

“I mean, they already suspected a lot of things when I moved in with you, but- wow! Wow! They’re gonna fucking know! Oh my god! Oh-” 

“Steve!” Billy shouted and Steve snapped his head towards his boyfriend. Fiance? Husband!? “What did I say?” He laughed. 

Steve stared at him for a moment, mouth gaping and eyes squinted in confusion before his memory snapped in place. “I don’t care if they know, but like… Holy shit man, they’re gonna know.” 

“You’re living with me now. You don’t gotta worry ‘bout your parents.” 

“I know, but,” Steve slumped down in his passenger seat. “Jesus shit, my parents are going to know.” 

“Hey,” Billy took Steve’s hand. Eyes pulling away from the empty road to stare at his… lover. “I love you. That should be the only thing that matters.” 

Steve’s eyes looked like they were filled with stars. “Yeah… yeah it is.” He sat up in his seat and pulled Billy in for a quick kiss before pushing his head back to look at the road. 

And when they showed up at Susan’s with a ring pop around Steve’s ring finger, the kids all smiled.

[pies-writes-and-more]

hi hi!!

can i request fluff with daichi, iwaizumi, atsumu, and akaashi where they like you but don’t confess it until they think someone’s trying to confess but it turns out to be your best friend or family member or just a misunderstanding

please and thank you 🥰

word count: 2,229

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader

warnings: none! all fluff! potentially some swearing! and oikawa lying lol 

a/n: hi friend!!! thank you so much for requesting :3 i really appreciate the love you’ve given me in the past little bit - it’s really made me want to write more and more! Soooooo i actually got really carried away with this one lol i’m going to post this as just iwaizumi’s for now but my hope is to come back and write the other’s as full fics as well!! Except for atsumu’s though - i don’t actually write for him 😅(not super knowledable about his character). but thank you again and i hope this is enough to keep you happy until i have time/motivation to write the others!! also so sorry but this is not well edited lol 

haikyuu masterlist

“If you’re not careful, Iwa, someone’s gonna come snatch Y/N away.”

Oikawa was always annoying but he had been particularly annoying when he sang those words to Iwaizumi after practice one day.

“W-What? What’re you talking about?” The dark haired ace spluttered, brow creased in confusion.

Oikawa just smirked, shifting his bag on his shoulder, “I’m talking about the way you drool when you see her-”

“-I don’t drool, idiot!”

“Mhm. Right. So you’re not totally absolutely in love with her right?”

Silence.

“Ya that’s what I thought,” Oikawa snickered to himself, unshaded as his friend shot him a glare. “I’m just trying to help you out. Y/N’s a cutie and she’s pretty friendly with people. If you don’t confess to her and she ends up with a boyfriend in the next month, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Iwaizumi would later regretting ever listening to Oikawa. Because here he was, a lot of jealousy building in his stomach, as he watched you smile sitting next to some guy in the library, his friend’s words repeating on and on his head. Is it possible that you had someone else?

“Awww why the long face, Ace?” Hanamaki asked with a smirk. “I mean I know algebra isn’t fun and all but you look like you could murder someone.”

“I bet I know what’s got Iwa’s undies in a bunch,” Oikawa sang, snickering as he led his teammates’ eyes to your desk.

“Oh! Right, Y/N. Hey isn’t that her-”

“Mhm!” Oikawa interrupted strategically, grinning ear to ear as you laughed, your company hitting your head gently with his pen as he shook his head disapprovingly, though his smile matched yours.

“Alright alright I get it, Oikawa. You don’t have to keep going on about it,” Iwaizumi huffed, rolling his eyes as he stuffed his things back into his bag.

“Where’re you going, Iwaizumi?” Kunimi asked, head leaning into his hand as he tore his eyes away from his homework (not that he was really paying attention to it anyways).

“Away,” Iwaizumi grumbled, shoving his bag onto his shoulder and stomping away.

“I thought Iwaizumi really liked Y/N, why is he so angry looking at her?” Matsukawa wondered out loud, glancing over at Oikawa’s mischievous grin. “I’m guessing you had something to do with this?”

“Oh come now. I’m just helping our little Iwa work up the nerve to spill his feelings!” Oikawa explained flippantly, humming happily to himself as he finished his work.

Iwaizumi wasn’t just annoyed that he had to watch how happy you seemed in the library. He was annoyed at lots of things, he told himself as he walked towards the front entrance. Lots, he repeated in his thoughts just for good measure. Like how you talked to him practically every day, from morning to night, through texts, moments in the hallway, and sometimes video calls, and not once did you mention you had a boyfriend. Or at least an interest in someone. 

Iwaizumi hesitated as he thought it through, his fists clenching in his jacket pockets. He wasn’t actually sure this guy was your boyfriend - it could just be someone who you knew. But what guy hung out with a girl one-on-one like that, and acting so casually too? Iwaizumi’s eyes widened slightly - what if this guy was just about to confess to you? What if he was planning all sorts of romantic dates with you and Iwaizumi would never get the chance to tell you how he felt?

The dark haired third year turned on his heel, marching back towards the school as he worked up the nerve. He wasn’t competitive. Well he wasn’t that competitive (yes he was). It wasn’t that this guy was about to confess and Iwaizumi just wanted to do it first. It was just that he knew you should have all your options. Right? Right.

At least that’s what he told himself.

Iwaizumi wasn’t surprised to see that the desk you once occupied was empty by the time he had made his way back. After all, it was pretty late after school hours and you typically were back home for dinner by now. He glanced down the nearby hallways, trying to picture where you would’ve gone. He noticed some movement nearby, his eyes flickering to the sight of the dude who had been sitting with you standing near the doors. 

“Hey, uh did Y/N already head home?” He asked awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He wasn’t going to waste any more time trying to find you, and as weird as it was, asking the guy who he was competing working against for your affection, it was a necessary awkward moment. He was weirdly young looking from this close, Iwaizumi noted, frowning slightly. Was that the look that you were into?

The guy just smiled at Iwaizumi, which made the ace more annoyed, nodding in the direction of the classrooms, “Forgot one of her books in her classroom - unsurprised. That girl’s got the memory of a goldfish, ya know?” he joked with a chuckle.

Iwaizumi’s grip on his backpack strap tightened, trying to hold back the glare he wanted to shoot in this guy’s direction. Of course he knew that - he was usually the one that went to bring you your things when you forgot them, after all. But how did this guy know that? Iwaizumi didn’t even know this guy existed until a few weeks ago.

“Cool,” Iwaizumi responded shortly, headed in that direction. Maybe this guy was waiting to bring you home, but if Iwaizumi had it his way, he’d have already confessed by then. And hopefully, you’d feel the same way.

You were just stepping out of the classroom when Iwaizumi caught up to you, tucking your misplaced book back in your bag. “Oh! Iwaizumi!” You smiled at the sight of him, barely noticing the red tinge on his cheeks and the way he was avoiding your eyes. “I saw you working in the library too! I was going to come join you but-”

“-But you were busy. No worries,” Iwaizumi waved it off, like he hadn’t wished every moment that he had been sat in that library that you had come to sit with him. “Um. Y/N... I gotta ask you something.”

You blinked, watching this normally pretty confident boy seem to shift uncomfortably. When was the last time you had even seen Iwaizumi nervous? He never even seemed nervous at his tournaments. Or even before exams. “O-Okay. You’re kinda scaring me, Iwaizumi. This isn’t some life or death thing is it?”

Iwaizumi gave you a small smile, finally catching your eyes and for a moment, he forgot why he was pushing himself so hard to confess to you. For a moment, he just saw you. You who made his heart flutter every time you laughed, you who wrapped his fingers for him when he jammed them during practice one day, you with your gorgeous smile, and your pretty hair, and you... you just being you. He sucked in a breath, as if reminding himself that he did in fact need air to function, before blurting out quickly, “I really like you, Y/N! I’ve always really liked you. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met and I really like the way that I feel like I can talk to you about everything. You’re supportive and kind and funny, god you’re funny. I know you probably have a bunch of guys trying to fight for your attention, like the guy in the library earlier, but... if you’re alright with it, I’d just like to show you that I can be a good partner. I know I seem flaky because volleyball is really important to me but I promise I can learn to balance my time between you and volleyball. We can do all sorts of things like go to a carnival like you’ve always wanted, or one of those game arcades, or get ice cream or something...” hie voice trailed off as he realized that blurting all of this out was taking all of the air he had left in his lungs. Iwaizumi snapped his lips shut again, breathing a little faster now as he felt the impeding doom of having his heart just laying out in the open there.

You stared at him. God, your eyes were just magnificent. Normally if Iwaizumi had caught you staring at him, he’d smirk and tease you about falling in love with him or something. Normally it felt like a good thing, something in his favour. But now, now Iwaizumi wasn’t sure what it meant. Were you staring at him because you thought the two of you were just friends? Was it because you thought the whole confession was weird? Did he talk too fast? Did he even talk? Shit, what if he just said the whole confession in his head and didn’t actually say anything! No wait, his lungs were totally empty before so he had to have been saying something right? 

“Iwaizumi... is that... are you nervous?” You asked him playfully, a teasing glint in your eyes that shocked him right out of his nervous thinking.

“W-What? N-No, why? Do I seem nervous?” He asked stupidly, knowing full well this was probably the most nervous he had ever been before.

You laughed, the sound making him feel a little bit at ease, “You’re adorable.”

Iwaizumi searched your face still, looking for any sort of sign that gave him an answer, “I-Is... Does that mean you’ll go on a date with me?”

You beamed up at him, nodding happily, “Of course! Honestly, I’ve been waiting for you to ask me for the longest time!”

Iwaizumi let out a relaxed breath, his shoulders slumping slightly because god that was awful being as uptight and nervous as he was.

“Wait did you... did you think the guy in the library was a suitor or something?” You asked, scrunching up your nose as your brain tried to remember everything he had just quickly spurted out at you.

Iwaizumi frowned slightly, tilting his head, “Yea? Who else would he be?”

You giggled, shaking your head quickly, “Hang on, is that why you’ve been avoiding me these past few weeks? I’ve been trying to get you to come meet him!”

“Him who?” 

“My cousin! He just started at Karasuno a few weeks ago - he was at a different school first but he just move to the area. He’s a year younger than us - couldn’t you tell? He’s got such a baby face!”

“Cousin?” Iwaizumi repeated, frowning still as he thought the whole situation through.

“Yeah, I thought you knew. Oikawa was one of the first people I introduced him to, and then I told him I wanted you to be next. But I’m guessing he didn’t pass on the memo?” You couldn’t hold back your smile any more, watching this tortured-soul look on Iwaizumi’s face.

“Oikawa knew this guy was your cousin?”

You nodded and Iwaizumi grumbled something that sounded oddly like “I’m gonna kill him.”

You laughing just made Iwaizumi blush, his embarrassment getting the best of him, “What’re you laughing at?” He mumbled shyly but his smile was still bright as day on his face. He did it - he actually told you how he felt... and you seemed to feel the same.

“I just... I never knew the great Ace of Seijoh could get so nervous over a girl,” you teased, poking at his chest.

Iwaizumi scoffed, leaning down to look you eye to eye, something that made your heart skip a beat, “Not just any girl,” he murmured to you softly. “You. You make me nervous. Say yes okay?”

“Yes? To what?”

“To going on a proper date with me - I want a proper answer.”

“Mm fine. But that wasn’t even a proper confession,” you pointed out and Iwaizumi gaped in offence.

“What do you mean!? It was totally heartfelt - just like those animes you made me watch!”

“No way, you totally rushed it because you thought some other guy was going to come steal me away,” you giggled, staring to walk past him. Iwaizumi stuck his nose in the air as he started to walk with you.

“I did not! I just figured if you were going to get confessed to, it should be me!”

“Mhm, well I guess it was a pretty cute confession. But I expect a flower for our first date!” You smirked, just poking some fun.

Iwaizumi smiled to himself, hearing the words our first date leave your lips, “If it all goes to plan, darling, I’ll have a whole bouquet for you and a succulent.”

“A succulent!!??” You repeated excitedly, beaming happily as the two of you walked back to where your cousin was waiting. Iwaizumi properly introduced himself this time, awkwardly apologizing for his cold demeanour earlier. Turns out your cousin was a pretty nice dude who found the whole situation amusing so all was well!

Well, it was until Iwaizumi caught Oikawa and chased him around, threatening to pummel his head in for leading him on like that.

“It was for the greater good, Iwa!” Oikawa insisted, making everyone around you laugh as he ducked and dodged.

Later, Iwaizumi woulld think back at your smile, add a heart to your contact name in his phone, and secretly, he would think maybe OIkawa was right.

Not that he’d ever actually admit it to him.

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@sgue0s @aurumk @neko-chii1 @thisnoodlewritesao3 @satan-ruler-of-hells @trashy-simp @jeppiet @tobi-momo @darkvadeeer @haikyuutothetop @livy384 @babyshoyo @jesssobs @b-bakana @tsukkimoonbyeol @moonlightaangel @crystal-lilac @random-734 @sophiemess @bbyhaji @pansexualproblemchild @mystic-poteto @kaleidoscopekai @cuddlysoftbear @cheeseriz @ur-local-simp @kawaii-angelanne @ushijimacentral @elkawholeek @ur-local-anti-hero @tirzamisu @joonieshoney @hidden-otaku-stuff @awkwardaardvarkforever

[jackrrabbit]

cuffing season /// Ushijima x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: [Shiratorizawa fanweek day 5—Firsts] You convince your boyfriend to try something new in the bedroom, but as it turns out, old habits die hard.

A/N: Heard it was Shiratorizawa week 👀 technically I did originally post this on day 5, but I had to repost bc of tag issues, whoops :P Let’s pray it works this time!! edit: apparently it’s still not listed in the tags :<

The song that I mention is Bruno Major’s Old Fashioned (although it doesn’t fit the tone of this fic in the least).

Tags/warnings: mild bondage, size kink, rough sex!!!, marking (bruises/hickeys/etc.), power play/power exchange, reader tries & fails to dom Mr. Ushijima 😳, all characters are adults

Look, Ushijima’s a great boyfriend. Perfect, almost. Sure, he may not be the most expressive guy, but you’ve been dating him long enough that you’re able to pick up on the little gestures that tell you that he cares about you—the way he presses his face into your hair when you hug him after you’ve been apart for a while; his hands stroking circles into your skin when you fall asleep in bed next to him; all of it. He’s everything you could possibly look for in a man, except for one not-so-little issue:

The sex.

Because Ushijima, your sweet, wonderful boyfriend, who kisses you so gently it’s like he thinks you’ll fall apart if he’s not infinitely careful with you, is for some reason incapable of exercising the same degree of restraint (or any restraint at all) when you’re in bed together. When it comes to sex, your boyfriend is a fucking animal. And you’re not really sure how much more you can handle.

Maybe your concerns would seem petty from an outsider’s perspective. It’s not like Ushijima doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and it’s not like you don’t want to have sex. You’re attracted to him, of course you are! Almost 76 inches and 190 pounds of pure muscle, a body that looks like Michelangelo could have carved it from marble, and that beautifully solemn expression that had you salivating over him from the stands before you even knew his name? You want to have sex with him, you’re just fairly certain you can’t, not when it always ends up with you completely and utterly wrecked, so spent you don’t even have the strength to lift your hips off the mattress so he can wipe his cum off your thighs.

Look, anyone in your position would feel the same way. It’s awful and you’ll never admit it to him, but you almost broke up with him after the first time you two fucked. You knew going in that it wouldn’t be easy—the man radiates big dick energy and boy did he deliver—but it was just too much.

That first time had started off so innocuously, with you inviting him to your place for a nightcap after your sixth date. You’d set candles and put on your romantic sex playlist for a nice backdrop to let him hold you in his lap and make out—how the hell had you gone from that to having him rut you into the mattress, your belly pressed into the sheets and ass arched up so he could pound into you so forcefully that your rickety bed smacked into the wall hard enough to rattle the furniture with every movement, and you couldn’t even hear it over the sound of your own moaning? You hadn’t changed the playlist, and it felt downright obscene to listen to Bruno Major croon about love and courtship while Ushijima fucked into you like he was trying to carve the shape of his cock into your pussy.

You’d had to call in sick the next day because you could barely walk. The bruises from where he held your hips had taken weeks to fade, and by that time he’d already given you new ones. To his credit, Ushijima felt bad when he saw the evidence of how rough he’d been and he promised to take it easy on you next time…but after a few more rounds of mind-numbingly savage sex you learned that the man apparently doesn’t know what ‘take it easy’ means.

To be fair, at least some of it is your fault. You really shouldn’t have offered to go on the pill as a three-month anniversary present to him. At least before, he had to give you a break while he changed condoms after he came; now he has no reason to hesitate, instead going for round two (and sometimes round three) without pulling out. You never thought you’d see superhuman stamina as a bad thing, but…

“You don’t get it! It’s like getting fucked by a stallion. I need to plan to have three days to recover whenever I take him home with me,” you whined to your friends over cocktails when they told you you shouldn’t complain about a good thing—after all, Ushijima is just as committed to your pleasure as he is to his own, and there’s never been an occasion where he didn’t get you off before fucking you himself (probably at least a little because there’s no way in hell you’d be relaxed enough to take him otherwise).

“Can’t you just tell him to go slower?” one of your friends asked. “If he doesn’t listen to you, then that’s fucked up and you need to dump him.”

“It’s not that he doesn’t listen. If I tell him to stop, he stops,” you sighed, stirring your drink with the straw and watching the decorative sprig of mint fall under the surface to be overtaken by a chip of ice. “It’s like he can’t go slower. He’s not adjustable—it’s either crazy brutal or nothing, and then neither of us get what we want. Like a vibrator you can’t turn off the highest level. I don’t even think he realizes in the moment how intense it is for me.”

“Aren’t you ever on top? You can set the pace.”

“I’ve tried, but Ushi just—“ you made a gripping motion with your hands and mimicked raising something up and setting it down vigorously— “like, bounces me.”

One of them raised an eyebrow and then her eyes widened. She turned to your other friend and the two of them whispered to each other for a bit, then shifted back to you. “Tie him up,” she said with the air of an elder imparting sage knowledge, and your other friend nodded.

“Oh, come on.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m serious. Guys usually love it when girls are in control, you just need to take the initiative. Get him tied down and then you can show him exactly how you like it. Let him feel like he’s at your mercy for once.”

The idea had seemed unthinkable at the time, but you hadn’t been able to forget it—which is why after weeks of contemplation, hours of research, and a single extremely awkward trip to a sex shop, you’re now crouching over Ushijima’s naked chest, wrapping a leather cuff around one of his wrists.

“Are you sure that this is something you want to do?” Ushijima asks in that weighty baritone that makes you shiver with need. He doesn’t pull away, but he eyes your actions warily as you thread the chain of the cuffs around a rung in the center of your headboard and reach over to do the other side.

“…Yes,” you tell him, a little less firmly than you would have liked, and you lick your lips to try to make up for how suddenly dry your mouth is. “Anyway, isn’t that my line? We don’t have to do the cuffs if you don’t want to. I won’t force you.”

“It’s alright. You and I both know you couldn’t force me, (Y/N).” Dark eyes pin you down and it’s incredibly unfair how much power he has over you even when he’s the one chained to the bed.

Ushijima’s right, obviously—if he didn’t want to be exactly where he is right now, he wouldn’t be. You’re sure as hell not strong enough to force him to do anything he doesn’t want to, but he didn’t have to say it like that.

“Okay then…good,” you reply, adjusting the straps of the cuffs to accommodate for how stupidly thick his wrists are. When you’re satisfied that they won’t chafe but he can’t get out of them without your help, you sit back next to his chest and admire your handiwork. Ushijima lays on his back, naked, relaxed, even with his arms stretched up to your headboard and cuffed there. He looks good, mouthwateringly good, and you’re ready to get your hands on him when you remember there’s something you need to get straight first. “Wait, before we—before I do anything, remember— what do you say if you want me to stop?”

“…Vanilla,” Ushijima says, reciting the safeword you decided on when you were hammering out details, although the look in his half-lidded eyes is telling you very clearly that he has no intention of needing to use it.

Privately you agree, but everything you’ve read on the kink blogs you’ve been trolling for research tells you that a responsible adult doesn’t put cuffs on their partner without deciding on a safeword first, and you’re determined to do this by the book. “Good boy,” you say, and the diminutive feels awkward in your mouth until you see Ushijima’s reaction—the flash in his eyes, a minuscule hitch in his breathing next to you, and the scrape of metal against wood as he gives a light pull at the cuffs.

With everything safe and accounted for, you give a final tug to the chain to ensure it’s secure, then inch back and swing one leg over the broad expanse of his chest so you’re straddling his abdomen (and he’s so damn big that there’s a twinge of soreness in your thighs just from sitting on top of him). Fuck, he looks good like this, all spread out and pinned underneath you, so masculine and bulky that you’re feeling your pussy get wet just from watching him watching you.

It’s not often you get to appreciate him like this—usually you’re too focused on not losing your mind from how deeply he’s fucking you—so you savor it, massaging his shoulders and sliding your fingers down his sides, tracing the smooth skin with a feather-light touch and then dipping to kiss under his jaw. Feeling more than a little devious, you let your teeth graze over the thin skin at the base of his neck and with your chest pressed into his, it’s not hard to feel his sharp intake of breath.

“The marks...my teammates will notice.”

“Maybe I should stop, then,” you murmur against his skin, lifting up just enough to brush over his nipples. He stiffens, and once again you hear him tugging at the cuffs.

“…Don’t. I want them to see,” Ushijima says, and once you have his permission you don’t waste any time in latching your mouth to his skin and sucking. It’s been ages since you’ve given anyone a hickey. Usually you’re the one marked up like a teenager after Ushijima has his way with you, so this is a nice change of pace, especially when you can feel him flexing underneath you.

Well, kissing is nice…but you’re getting impatient and you know he is too. Once you’re satisfied that your hickeys are going to show up nice and bright red around his neck like a collar, you sit back, walking your hands back on his chest, stroking over his abdomen and giving a little roll of your ass on top of him. Ushijima’s hips twitch—unconsciously, you wonder?—and he glares at you in a way that tells you in no uncertain terms to hurry up and let him fuck you.

And damn it, something about that look has you feeling weak. Needy. Obedient. But this time you’re supposed to be in charge, so you smirk and lift your hips, pulling your body back so his cock is nestled between your legs, not quite touching your pussy. He’s already hard—no surprises there, considering how intently he’s watching you as you mess with him—but you only take a second to stroke his cock up and down before shifting up so he can see you slick your fingers up in your own pussy.

“(Y/N)…” Ushijima’s voice is low, annoyed, and he looks hungry. But you’re so amazed at how wet you are under your own fingers that you don’t bother to pay attention to him shifting his position under you to try to get stimulation. Your juices are literally slicking up your own thighs, just from chaining up your boyfriend and teasing him a little? You should have done this a long time ago.

You push two fingers into your pussy and pump them a few times, making sure to angle your hips so Ushijima can see them go in and out. The stretch is almost uncomfortable for a second and you wince a little before schooling your expression, knowing you’re about to have something a lot bigger than two fingers stretching you open. Ushijima catches it though, and he frowns, trying to sit up before remembering the cuffs that are holding him back. “Let me—let me do it for you—“

“No, stay down,” you say quickly, using your other hand to push him back into the mattress while you continue to touch yourself. Ushijima lets you (and there’s no doubt in your mind that he is letting you), but his eyes narrow as he zeroes in on the way your fingers are glistening with your own pussy juices.

God, you’re—you’re supposed to be in control, aren’t you? So then you shouldn’t be feeling like this, eyes drifting closed as you fuck yourself on your fingers, letting your lower knuckles rub against your clit while you try to curl them to rub against your g-spot. Ushijima’s been spoiling you…you can’t remember the last time you’ve had to do this yourself, and as you feel the tension building up slowly you catch yourself wishing it were him fingering you instead.

His fingers are just so thick. And long, and so rough. You bite your lip thinking about the way he does it when he preps you to take his cock, mashing his palm into your clit, petting along inside you and scissoring his fingers and… “Mmh,” you hum, holding back a real moan for Ushijima’s sake.

There’s another click of the chain sliding over the headboard wood and it reminds you that he’s right there, you could just uncuff him and he could touch you and fill you up with those thick fingers, make you cum, make you cry. But the urge to seek your own pleasure is outweighed by the image he’s making as he looks at you, his expression almost angry in its intensity now that he’s watching you do this to yourself and he has no way to get his hands on you.

“Ahh—“ you whine, letting a real whimper out at the thought of what you’re doing to him. “Ushi, Ushi, do you wanna touch? Wanna touch me?”

His head ducks into a hasty nod and his jaw clenches at the strain of having to ask for what he wants instead of just taking it like usual.

The longer you touch yourself, the closer you’re getting…but you don’t want to cum, not just yet. You draw your fingers out of your dripping cunt and open them up in a V, showing off the juices that connect them, the evidence of how wet you are for him. “Mmm, I don’t think so. I think there’s something else I want in me instead.”

And then you’re reaching to the side for the lube, squeezing a healthy dollop into your palm and then wrapping your hand around Ushiijma’s cock. And—fuck, he’s big. Sure, you’ve had sex with him plenty, but no matter how often you take him, you never stop feeling absolutely torn up after. A tingle of trepidation races up your spine at the thought of riding him like this—can you even put it in by yourself?

Even just looking at it is intimidating. He’s painfully hard, cock flushed red and bobbing up against his lower stomach every time you let it go, and, Jesus, how is it even possible that this thing would fit inside you? When you wrap your hand around him your fingers don’t touch; he must be thicker around than your own wrist.

Halfway. That’ll going to be your goal tonight, to take him halfway. And even that…is going to be a stretch.

The anxiety must show on your face because once again you’ve got Ushijima straining at the cuffs. “(Y/N)—“ he spits as you stroke him up, nudging your palm against the tip. “(Y/N), you need to finish first. Let me make you cum.”

“No, this time I want to—I’m gonna cum on your cock,” you say, adjusting your position so you’re kneeling above him, the head of his cock sliding between your lips. “Gonna cum on your big cock, Ushi, okay?”

His cock jumps in your hand at the provocation. He’s glaring at you, but he’s also leaking precum, the sticky fluid mixing with the lubricant. You give Ushijima a moment to say the safeword if he really doesn’t want you to, and when he stays quiet you raise yourself up a little more and line the head of his cock up with your weeping slit. You hold your pussy lips open with your fingers, easing your thighs down and pressing the head into you and—

“Oh—oh—oh, fuck, oh fuck, Ushi—“ you stutter out helplessly.

It’s been almost two weeks since he last fucked you. One week, six days and about three hours, and at the moment this measure of time seems unreasonably important because it’s been almost two weeks since you last let Ushijima split you in half with his ridiculously huge cock.

You’re not ready, should’ve prepped more, should’ve let him make you cum like he said—fuck, it feels like you’re losing your virginity—and the mixture of dismay and relief that spills over you when the thick swell of his head pushes past that tight ring of muscle is almost nauseating.

The tip? Seriously, just the fucking tip, and you’re already delirious, shaking, your thighs quivering on either side of his. It’s taking all of your strength to keep from going slack—but you know if you do, his whole cock is going to slide up into you and even thinking about that has your cunt clenching and unclenching around what you’re able to fit inside.

“Do you need help?” Despite the strain in Ushijima’s voice at being teased like this, there’s an undercurrent of amusement. He clearly doesn’t have faith in your ability to take him deeper by yourself.

It’s this—this quiet arrogance, this belief that he knows what’s best for you and he’s the only one who can give it to you—that gives you the guts to convince yourself to lower yourself down onto his his cock until you’re literally gasping for air. It fucking hurts, but you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of hearing you say it; instead, you brace your hands against the stiff muscle of his chest and try to focus on the way his cockhead is pressing into your g-spot.

Halfway…he’s gotta be at least halfway in, right? You sneak a glance up at him and bite back a curse at the look on his face, serious as ever, so focused on the place where your pussy is reluctantly eating up his cock that you feel your insides tense up around him again.

You don’t even know how it’s possible for you to get tighter around him but somehow you must be able to, because you hear Ushijima grunt underneath you, and his muscles contract under your palms as he tries again to sit up. When he can’t, he hisses in frustration. “Move…now. Or I won’t be able to control myself.”

Funny, aren’t you supposed to be the one controlling him? But it sure as hell doesn’t feel that way when you’re barely able to stay upright just from trying to ride his cock. You nod desperately, chin jutting up and down like a bobblehead, and lift your hips up off his cock until just the tip is left inside. When you push yourself back down you can’t help whimpering at the feeling of him stretching you, sliding up into you, that stiff, wet cockhead dragging over your g-spot.

By now the pain has faded into an uncomfortable stretch, like leaning too heavily into a foreign pose in yoga, enough that you’re able to feel the arousal building in the pit of your belly and hold onto it as you rock your hips up and down him. The pace is slow—almost too slow; you marvel at yourself for wanting it faster—and there’s a fair amount of Ushijima’s cock that you’re not able to take, but this is really all you can handle.

“Mmm, Ushi, fuck, you’re so big, so big and hard inside me, feels so good on your cock—“ you moan, knowing you sound less like the dominant partner in this position and more like you’re teasing him, pushing his limits.

Ushijima’s breathing is heavy. Labored. He’s trying to hold himself back. “(Y/N), deeper—take me deeper, now.”

Part of your brain vaguely recognizes that he isn’t supposed to be giving the orders here, but you’re too drunk on the feeling of fucking yourself on his cock to complain, so you lower your hips and try, but it feels like you’re just too weak to do it yourself. “Ushi please, it’s too much, too big, I can’t, please—“

And your pleading must sound like an invitation, because his eyes flash and you feel him shifting the position of his legs behind you—and then he bucks his hips up and his cock sinks into your cunt, pushing up into your gooey insides until the head is pressing into the tight opening of your cervix.

“Ahn—?” you squeal, startled. What? He—what? Fuck, it’s deep, it’s so deep, you can’t hold yourself up so you flop downward, holding onto his shoulders for dear life, “ohhh Ushi pleasepleaseplease” and you barely hear yourself over the lubed-up slap of his pelvis against your skin.

Fuck, it feels like he’s knocking the breath out of you. Feels like you can’t fucking breathe like his cock isn’t just pushing against your stomach but your lungs too, can’t breathe so you bear down on his shoulders try to hold yourself up try to let yourself adjust but—

Ushijima’s in control now.

Not that he ever wasn’t, you’d think if you were capable of thinking except you’re not because as you try to situate yourself make yourself relax around that monster cock filling you up, he’s not giving you a moment to catch your breath, instead thrusting up into you at his usual breakneck pace. Apparently he doesn’t need to use his hands to make you bounce—you’re not even moving yourself now, just trying to hold still as his hips slam his cock inside you again and again and again, and again, rubbing up against that sweet spot in your pussy so quickly that you think you might go crazy from it.

“Nngh, so tight,” he growls, and you can tell from the way the words are choked out that he’s gritting his teeth. You almost want to roll your eyes—of course you’re tight, anyone would feel tight around him—but it feels like if you do your eyes might roll back in your head so you don’t.

Jesus fuck, you can’t even understand how long it’s been but you do know that it’s absurd for you to want to cum already, only the thick mass of his cock pushing into you is somehow hitting all the right buttons, just like it always does. Even if it’s rough you want more. By now you’re trying to meet his thrusts, rolling your hips in time with him fucking you open, doing your best to participate but really it’s all you can do to even stay still with how roughly he’s fucking you. “Ushi, fuck, so deep, wanna cum I wanna cum please let me cum—“

“Touch yourself,” he commands breathlessly because he’s still tied to the headboard and he can’t do it, and you barely have the strength to pick one of your hands up off of where you’re scratching into his shoulder and pull it down to rub at your clit.

It’s not enough and you whimper desperately, you don’t want your own fingers, you want Ushijima’s, you want him to touch you. You’re probably saying it out loud by now, begging him to put his hands on you—his eyes widen and then the sound of the metal cuff chain grating over wood reaches you—you can see the skin of his wrists get lighter from lack of blood flow, he’s pulling at the cuffs, pulling too hard, he’s going to hurt himself, you have to stop him—and then you hear a snap.

Aw, shit. The bed.

The thought comes in a singular moment of clarity as you watch the rung Ushijima’s chained to separate itself from the rest of the headboard, splintering, the nail that held it in place looking pathetically flimsy next to the veins bulging in his arms as he slides the chain away from it. He flexes his hands, forming fists and then unclenching them to restore the interrupted blood flow, and then you’ve only got a second to prepare yourself before he’s upright, dragging your hips up to meet his.

“Ushi, Ushi, Ushi, I want, please, I want you,” you beg, but you didn’t really have to because you’re pretty sure there’s no force on Earth that could stop him from holding you up so he can fuck down into you with a ferocity that could be mistaken for anger if you weren’t certain it was really lust.

The entire bed is creaking and rocking against the force of his movement, but you don’t really have the headspace to worry about more property damage considering he’s got you supporting yourself on the mattress on your back and shoulders, your spine curled up so he can kneel and still have your hips aligned with his, your legs dangling bonelessly on either side of him.

Fuck. Holy fuck. You open your mouth but words don’t come out, only a choked whimper, but if you could speak you’d be saying yesyesyesyesyes, touch me.

Despite your inability to speak, Ushijima picks up on what you need and then along with his cock carving its way in and out of you you’re getting the feeling of his fingers padding over your clit. Rough and callused, not gentle, nothing like the way you touched yourself earlier, but you’re starting to realize you don’t mind the aggression. In fact, it’s good, it’s so good, so good you’re gonna cum.

You’re gonna cum.

A long, drawn-out whine is spilling out of your lips before you can stop it; you wrap your hand over your own mouth out of shame or maybe courtesy to your neighbors (although by now they’ve probably invested in earplugs after listening to you squeal like a pig on Ushijima’s cock dozens of times in the past). Still, as your climax rocks through you shove your thumb between your teeth to bite down on it, but the sharp pain is nothing compared to the pleasure.

“Ushiiiii—“ you sob around your own fingers. Your spine arches—or rather, you try to arch your back but you can’t, not with Ushijima’s full body weight pressing into you and keeping you pinned to the mattress.

It hurts, it feels good, you’re seeing stars, you’re hearing Ushijima snarl as your pussy tightens up and convulses on his cock. His one-handed grip on your ass gets painfully tight as he abandons whatever pretense of restraint he had left and pumps his cock into you so hard and fast you’re pretty sure the headboard isn’t going to be the only thing broken, but you don’t fucking care because you’re cumming, you’re cumming, you’re cumming so hard you think you black out for a second, holy fuck.

It’s only when you hear Ushijima’s panting breath and feel him pulling your hand away from your mouth that you regain your grip on reality. “You’re bleeding,” he says, holding your hand up and inspecting the shallow indentations your teeth made on your thumb.

“…You broke my bed,” you reply tiredly once you’ve gotten in a lungful of air, what feels like the first full breath you’ve been able to take since he put his cock inside you.

“I’m sorry,” Ushijima tells you, although he doesn’t look particularly sorry.

You roll your eyes. “Did you cum?”

“Yes. When you did.” Without him holding you up there’s nothing to prevent you from sliding down off his softening (but still unfairly impressive) cock. You’re certainly not strong enough to keep yourself in position.

Even if he hadn’t confirmed it, you’d still be able to feel the familiar heat of his semen plastering your insides, and once your still-sensitive pussy is exposed to the cool air your inner muscles squeeze involuntarily but hard enough to force some of his cum out—you sense it, hot and thick, dripping out of your pussy to smear against your thighs. “Can we take a bath?” you ask, knowing you’ll barely be able to walk over to the bathroom, much less stand under the shower unassisted.

Ushijima nods and moves off the bed. “I can carry you,” he adds when you try to stand up and your knees almost give out before you flop back onto the mattress.

At this angle, with you sitting and him standing in front, it’s difficult not to see that despite cumming literally less than two minutes ago, he’s already getting stiff again. Jesus, is he even human? After how hard you just came, the thought of letting him fuck you again is giving you something stronger than butterflies, but you look up at him and offer anyway. “Wait, do you…um, want to go for another round?”

Ushijima’s gaze meets yours and then travels over your body underneath him. You must look like a mess—sweaty, hair all fucked up and tangled, body still shaking with the aftershocks of your climax and barely able to sit comfortably on your aching pussy—and you guess he sees how jittery (nervous?) you feel because for the first time since your relationship started, he shakes his head to turn down an offer of sex. “No, I’ll take care of it. Let’s clean up first.”

“Okay,” you sigh, releasing a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and raising your arms to let him pick you up.

“(Y/N).”

When Ushijima doesn’t move to carry you, you frown. “Hm?”

“The cuffs.”

Oh, right. The black leather is wrapped around both of his wrists, chain still intact. Apparently these cuffs are stronger than your headboard. Good quality. Too bad they’re going in the trash. You make quick work of the release and then undo the straps carefully, massaging over the light pink marks on your boyfriend’s wrists once they’re free.

“Sorry, did it hurt you? I didn’t mean to—I mean, I just wanted…” You trail off, feeling infinitely embarrassed that despite all your claims of dominating him, he still ended up with the upper hand, cuffs or no cuffs. And you liked submitting to him. There’s no denying that.

“It didn’t. And…I enjoyed having you on top,” Ushijima tells you, lifting you effortlessly into a princess-carry now that his arms are free.

“Yeah right. We’re never using those again,” you scoff, tucking your head into his chest as he carries you to the bathroom. “My boss is going to get mad that I keep taking sick days every time I have sex with you. I’m just going to throw the cuffs out.”

From your position, so close to him, you can barely see the upward quirk of his mouth that would be as good as laughter for anyone else. “Don’t get rid of them. I think…next time, I would like to have you wearing them, (Y/N).”

Well, fuck.

[harm0nianecterepassus]

“Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love” by Isthisselfcare (commentary, not a review! Just my inner thoughts as i read)

Day one: Of course I couldn’t wait and started reading last night 🫠 Currently on chapter 4 and i’m already laughing out loud and loving the small details. It’s so refreshing after reading three rather “serious” fics before… glad i made that choice! I think i’ll be updating my reading process in this post! So I’ll be editing it as i go and have it pinned to the top of my page for easy access… let’s goo!!

Day one update: how fucking GREAT and literally up my alley it is that this fic HAS VISUAL AID for places and such???! I’m the type of person who NEEDS a clear mental image so the story can flow in my head, whether is the layout of a house, a characters clothing, etc. (I literally have to remind myself how would 20-30’s Draco or Hermanione would look like bc i’m so used to them being teenagers in my head. I will look up more recent pictures of tom and emma to get an idea (is it only me who finds is hard to imagine Draco with a beard/facial hair and as an older guy still with white-blond hair? It’s like Tom but with bleached hair) and also VOICES, i can literally hear them talking in my head while reading dialogue… I know, my head is very stubborn and weird with the way it forms images and characters, am I the only one? Anyways, loving this “plus”!

Day two: how is it possible to LAUGH OUT LOUD SO MANY TIMES? My face hurts from it! I’m on chapter 8 and i’m so obsessed with Draco’s charcter: he’s witty, funny, sarcastic and charming while ALSO being a prat lol this is right up my alley, gosh I’m so happy right now… And Hermione’s demeanor is so well done! I love that this is more of a “draco’s pov” because all of the ones i’ve read are more from a Hermione’s pov and i find myself more drawn to know D’s thought process rather than H’s, i guess it’s bc we get to know much more of her through the canon storyline… ah, joy!

Day three: currently on chap 15. This HAS to be the best thing that i’ve ever laid eyes upon. It’s so well thought, places and references amazingly described and REFERENCED (i can’t get enough of it). The french references and dialogues, ah! Fabulous! the author said they’re half french so I love how much they included it. Anyways, i’m GIDDY every two minutes, i laugh my arse off with every joke and “quirky moment”, this is definitely a “slow burn” but it’s so well done, you can *actually* see it progressing but it’s so effortless that it just makes sense. I have a feeling i’ll finish this one before the weekend ends and i’m already sad! Will update soon!

Day four: ah! Finally, a kiss! I have to say, i’m loving this slow burn, because there’s so much interesting stuff happening in between, i can’t complain; love their outings, and parties and intimate dinners and everything! It all feels so organic and it’s entertaining, the story advances flawlessly. I love that, even when there are no romantic things happening, the story in itself is so good and captivating… you know i love my references, and they add the perfect amount of *pzaz* to help my brain create an entire scene.. As always, BRILLIANT! Favorite characters so far (aside from d&h): Henrriette is the GOAT; Nott, always a fave through the fics i’ve read; Crooks, a king as always. And honorable mention to the Magdalena’s skull, she was iconic!

Day five: UNHINGED NUNS!!!! Chapter 33 was So fucking good! I’m at the end of it now, only a few chapters left i believe, and i’ve enjoyed it so much! Honestly, what a beautifuly worded story, i’m in awe of the genious of Isthisselfcare, i don’t think i’ll ever be over this fic! Final stretch, here we go!

Update: ah! It’s over, me heart is full, i laughed until my face hurt, i screamed, i squealed, i felt every emotion possible~ and it was perfect! Thanks to the ppl who said i should read it first after The Fallout (which was rather dark at some points), because it gave me the dose of chill/happy/funny dhr i needed before jumping on to the next fic! I believe i’m leaning toward MoaM or should i grow some ovaries for a change and go straight into Manacled? Help! Anyways, just to conclude, of course this gets 5 out of 5 freaking golden, shinning, up-in-the-sky stars! Cheers!

[aseioh]

Of Cakes and Late Celebrations

Author’s Notes: This was supposed to be posted on Mother's day. But just like this fic, I got derailed and ended up being late. (picture taken from the internet)

It was Mother's day.

Or to be precise it will be Mother's day in 15 hours 25 minutes. It shouldn't be a problem for Alcina, she usually just buys something from the Duke to give to Mother Miranda.

Unfortunately, such a thing is not possible right now. The Duke was delayed with his routine arrival at the castle opening, something about a spooked horse and lycans trying to get a nibble.

Honestly she lost interest after the word delayed was spoken through the phone. How is she going to remedy this. The gift itself was one of the finest silk she was able to obtain, she was sure Mother would appreciate a new ritual robe.

This is bad. To show up without a gift on this special day. She was sure she would be made a mockery during the gathering. Whats worst was that fool Heisenberg would be the first to lead with his pathetic insults.

Just the thought made Alcina's blood boil.

”I should send Bela to switch that man's shampoo with dog shampoo. Although the man still smells like wet dog. No. I'll think of something more devious.“

But back to the matter at hand. It's almost Mother's day and she doesn’t have a gift. Taking a deep drag off her cigarette, she considers her dwindling options.

At western part of the village

Donna is also facing a similar problems.

"What do you mean you're not coming?! Where am I supposed to find a present at this hour?!" Angie's raspy voice filtered through the phone "do you know how hard it is to find a 1st edition book on occult and rituals."

"Apologies Miss Angie, but the horse spooked and the carriage suffered a broken wheel. Even if the servants manage to haul themselves your house to the Duke's location and back it would still be too late." The main servant said trying to sound as apologetic as he can come across.

"This would not do" Donna said finally in her normal voice.

Somewhere inside the Stronghold.

Karl Heisenberg was having a meltdown.

"YOU STUPID LYCANS! I GAVE YOU ONE JOB AND YOU COULDN'T EVEN DO IT RIGHT!!" Heisenberg paces around the small assembly hall. Ten Lycans looked very apologetic, although it was very hard to tell from their looks. One even lets out a soft whimper.

“I told you to stall The Duke for a while. I didn’t said to derail him completely. The man has a package for me, now how am I supposed to get it!?” Heisenberg seethes.

His plan was a simply one really. Stall The Duke so that he would arrive at Castle Dimitrescu late, that way Alcina would not get her package and present it to Mother Miranda. That would show her, a little payback for calling him a child.

What he didn’t count on was the utter incapability of the Lycans to follow simple directions. Now even he doesn’t have a gift. Oh Miranda’s gonna blow a gasket.

“Augh... I hate the consequences of my actions” He lamented

 At Moreau’s Reservoir

“NOOOOOOO!! That’s not fair, that’s not fair!!!” Moreau starts throwing his stuff on the floor. He had finally saved up his money to buy Mother Miranda that nice jewelry that would go perfectly with her black wings.

“Someone’s gonna pay” He vows to take revenge on the Lycans responsible for his problem.

 After all his pet fish has been hungry for some Lycan meat.

 Castle Dimitrescu (13 hours until Mother’s day)

“I have gathered you here today for a very important meeting” Alcina starts looking at the sad (Donna) and tearful (Moreau) faces of her so called ‘siblings’. Heisenberg is surprisingly calm which puts Alcina on high alert, but lets it slide in favour of the more pressing matter

“We have a big problem. The Duke will not arrive on time for Mother’s Day. That means all the presents we bought for Mother will not arrive”

“We need a solution, any ideas?”  

“We kill the Lycans responsible and feed them to my fish”

“Yes Moreau, but that’s after we solve this problem” Donna said and tries to placate a Moreau by patting him at the back.

“Whoa, that’s a bit dark but I like it. And Moreau is right, we’re gonna make fish food out of those Lycans” “Better off those basdards, after all I don’t want to implicate myself” Heisenberg thinks

“People, you’re missing the point here” Alcina says pinching her nose to ward off an incoming headache. “Listen, we don’t have time. You know Mother Miranda, She’ll say she wasn’t really expecting something and then low-key punishes us for missing the day. We don’t want a repeat of the 1967 incident do we?”

Moreau whimpers from the trauma.

Donna goes into a slight trance and starts to shake.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough” Heisenberg stands. “Why don’t we just bake something and say it’s from all of us”

 *beat*

“Do you know how to bake?”

“I work at the Factory, I make steel molds for a living how hard could it be?”

“That doesn’t answer my question Heisenberg”

“We could make a small doll” Donna pipes up

“Sorry Donna that would still take time. And I don’t think we have the right materials on such short notice.” Alcina says

“For someone who’s looking for a solution you sure are shooting down all of them”

“Because it’s not feasible Heisenberg.” Alcina huffs “Can you gather all the materials in less than 10 hours? No? Of course not”

“And I keep telling you just BAKE A CAKE!”

“I don’t know how to bake, child! I’m a BLOODY COUNTESS not hired help” Alcina bellows at Heisenberg

“I know how to bake”

Everyone turns to Donna.

“Really?”

“Of course, I used to watch my Mother bake cakes before the accident. I just need help decorating. I never got a hang of that part” Donna beams with pride as she explains the basics of baking

“And we can gather the ingredients no problem. You have a pantry here somewhere right Alcina?” Moreau asked

“Of course. We always have a full pantry for the servants.” At that Heisenberg looks at Alcina with a hint of disbelief

“What? We need them healthy to serve us. I’m not a complete monster.” Alcina defends

“In any case we should start early. It takes time to cool and decorating is hard”

 Castle Kitchen (12 hours 30 minutes before Mother’s Day)

It was truly a sight to see. In a way it was enough for the Castle’s servants to wet themselves in fear when they saw the 4 Lords gathered at the kitchen in various forms of concentration. Needless to say, everyone was warned to steer clear of the kitchen for now.

Moreau was together with Donna supporting her with mixing the wet ingredients. Meanwhile, at the other side of the cooking station Alcina and Heisenberg are charge of measuring out the dry ingredients.

“You need to be precise, don’t put too much. Remember what Donna said and look at the damn recipe”

“I know what I’m doing you damn woman. I’m all about precision. Why don’t you move away and get that mixing bowl at the top shelf.” Heisenberg grouched

“I’m not your servant. And I certainly will not start fetching stuff for you” Alcina shot back

“Alcina, we need to work together. We don’t have time and you’re the tallest of us all. Please cooperate with Karl just this once. Please?” Donna implored

“Once. I’m helping him for this one time only. When I get my hands on the Lycan responsible for this problem, I’m gutting him and throwing him at Moreau’s reservoir.” At Donna’s admonishment of Alcina, Heisenberg gives a shit eating grin, showing some rather very pointy canines.

“And Heisenberg, stop provoking Alcina.” Donna adds

“Fine, you’re no fun Donna”

Suffice to say, the baking went well. Who knew that the 4 Lords working together would be a great success? If only Mother Miranda saw her children working together peacefully she might have had a heart attack and thought that she suffered one as well.

Or she might have been dreaming.

 Castle Kitchen (6 hours before Mother’s Day)

“Alright, the cake has cooled down completely, So what color will be the icing?” Donna asked

“Yellow” “Cream” “Light Blue” the other three said simultaneously.

 *beat*

“Light blue? Really? Not everything needs to be manly Heisenberg”

“And not everything needs to be boring like your color, Alcina”

“It should be yellow, like Mother’s sunny smile” Moreau explains

“And in which ever universe has Mother ever smiled like the sun?” Heisenberg counters Moreau

“Hey now. No need for that tone!”

“Tsk, sorry Moreau” Heisenberg apologizes to a quiet Moreau

“Fine, let’s do pastel yellow it’s easier for the eyes anyway” Donna supplies, getting ready to start coating the cake with the yellow cream

 Inside the Sanctuary

“Happy Mother’s day”

“We hope you like the cake Mother”

“Yes, we poured out our love in baking it. I hope you appreciate it” Heisenberg said

“Why thank you loves. This is a wonderful surprise. And Moreau said that you all worked together in baking it. How wonderful!” Mother Miranda said grateful for once that her children worked together without collateral damage (that she knew of).

“Although Heisenberg, I heard something interesting from Urias” Mother Miranda looks pointedly at Heisenberg, who for some reason starts to sweat and turn pale.

‘oh shit’ “Really Mother? Good news I hope” Heisenberg tries to bluff his way out.

“Why it was quite peculiar really. He said that you got 10 of his Lycans for a special project. I wasn’t aware that you have some side projects”

 The 3 Lords turn to Heisenberg

“Wait what?”

“I KNEW IT!!” Alcina unsheathes her claws

“You’re responsible for this mess in the first place!!”

“Really guy relax, if anything I just proved that we need more than one traveling merchant in the village for a successful and on time delivery” Heisenberg starts to carefully ease his way to the nearest exit.

 “GET HIM”

In the end, Alcina was more than ready to feed Heisenberg to Moreau’s pet fish. Only Donna stopped her, citing Moreau would probably be inconsolable if his pet got indigestion from all the metal.

And that is how Heisenberg saw himself in doggy jail for a week along with his Lycan cohorts. Mother Miranda did get her Mother’s day gifts from her children although a bit later than expected.

 And the cake?

 The cake was surprisingly delicious.

[vickyvicarious]

i hope ur ok with unprompted asks abt leverage bc today i am like this :-( because someone is posting hate on the OT3 in the OT3 tags. (not as a mistake either, they refused to use the right tags) tbh i am so so excited for the revival but this modern-day-esque toxicity is what i've been worried abt the whole time.

THE POINT OF THIS ASK: they said something that is wiggling in my brain, and i figured you may have a good perspective since i know you like the OT3 and are aware of/comment on fandom/media racism. they said the OT3 is popular because of fandom racism, because hardison is black and fandom wants to focus on the white guy (eliot). i think if this were true then people would just ship parker/eliot like ive seen people do in other fandoms not make an ot3? but wanted an opinion from another person?

Totally cool to send me unprompted asks! Whether Leverage or whatever else. And first off, sorry to see you've been experiencing nastiness in the OT3 tags. I personally never have, but maybe that's down to me not actually knowing what the commonly used tag is? I legit just found blogs to follow who post enough thiefsome content for me, and pick up more here and there, but I dunno where most people post stuff. leverage OT3? parker/hardison/eliot? hardison/parker/eliot? hitter/hacker/thief? something along those lines probably, I've found some stuff tagged under each but have no clue what the 'main' one is. (Also I came up with my own name for them and post my own stuff mostly under that so I really got no clue what most people do, haha.)

Anyway, I digress. On to your main point - well, I will give a disclaimer first. Pretty much the entire time I've been on tumblr I've mostly been in a happy fandom bubble and not even noticed a lot of the nastier discourse. Probably down to the way I pick blogs to follow and then mostly stick to my dash? But anyway, that remains true for Leverage. And in fact until I started my rewatch I was never really involved in the fandom, despite loving the show. I actually haven't read much fic yet either. So there's probably plenty going on I'm not aware of.

That being said, yeah I would agree with you that generally I think if this was racially motivated then people would just ship Parker/Eliot. I don't think people usually default to poly relationships, so I don't really think that is a good argument against one. The only exception I would say is if there's a huge trend of people shipping the three of them together, but only using Hardison as a prop for the other two. You know, if fic focuses mostly on Parker and Eliot and Hardison is just around to be supportive and not given the same level of depth, that kind of thing. However, in the fandom interpretations I have personally seen of the thiefsome, that isn't really the case. It can't hurt to be aware of trends if you do see them, but I don't think you gotta worry too much about this one.

People can be mean. Try not to let it bother you, maybe blacklist if possible (though I guess that ain't if they're intentionally using whatever the main tag is) or build your own happy dash bubble to retreat to. The people I reblog a lot are really nice if you need a starting point! ^_^

Edit - check in the comments for some other perspectives. Seems like there is a tendency to focus on Eliot more, though perhaps not in a straightforward a way as that person was saying? (I dunno what they were saying exactly though so I can't really speak to that.) Doesn't mean we should stop shipping all three but we can be more aware of how we do so, and make sure not to skimp on giving Hardison his fair share of emphasis! (Parker too obviously but you get my point.)

[kinnoth]

What's your take on Thor Ragnarok? What's your take on Thor's development within the MCU so far?I'm a fan of your posts and tags!

GREAT QUESTIONS THANK YOU FOR ASKING, THANKS FOR BEING A FAN

tldr I """"like"""" Thor's canon development now bc I've done some fucking Olympic grade backfilling and contortion to recontextualize the canon to make it meaningful, but this results in me living in my own pocket universe of an interpretation where I can't really interact with other people bc they don't subscribe to my exact reading of canon

But bro I LOVE Ragnarok. I know that can be a controversial take (I've read the meta of people who think it "slaughtered" Thor and Loki's characterisations), but I just thought it was so much fun! Like on a movie watching experience level and on a lore/meta level, it's FUN. That's not something I can say for 95% of marvel movies, which are nigh universally too dimly lit and too reliant on hateful sarcasm between characters as a substitute for a relationship.

On a meta level, I 1000% subscribe to the idea that the entire movie is a retelling that Thor is preforming for his refugees, so it's a heavily edited, exaggerated, and sillier version of events meant to keep everyone's spirits up. On the point of lore continuity, I really appreciate that thor3 makes CANON and EXPLICIT Odin's campaign of imperialist violence behind his "peaceful" reign over the nine realms, I FUCKIN LOVE IT. I LOVE the context Hela gives to their family, because she makes canon and explicit Odin's disappointments in Thor. I LOVE that Mjolnir was Hela's weapon before it was Thor's because Mjolnir was never meant to be a metric for moral goodness or readiness for rule, but a metric for a colonialist's commitment to imperialist violence on behalf of an empire WHICH IS WHY IT FINDS CAPTAIN AMERICA WORTHY BUT NOT LOKI

(btw if anyone else can draw a line between Hela and Steve Rogers that is a. representative of Odin's priorities and b. includes Thor but excludes Loki, hmu, bc this is the best I got.)

(Mjolnir rejects Thor in thor1 bc Thor was trying to conquer Jotunheim for personal glory and doesn't accept him again until he starts thinking about the good of the empire again by protecting Midgard, an imperial asset. Mjolnir rejects Loki bc Loki is a not an imperialist in service of an empire)

Off topic but I know a lot of people get hung up on Thor leaving Loki paralyzed in the parking garage, potentially to be found by the grandmasters dudes? Like people say that was unaccountably cruel and ooc for Thor. But like, ok, they killed everyone on the way up, and Thor knows his armed gladiator rebellion is on his heels also headed for the parking garage, so I dunno, I never read it as Loki was in any particular danger? But I'm a notorious Thor apologist as well as a Loki apologist so 🤷‍♂️

Things I also love: loki defunding the military to spend that money on art and infrastructure, Loki's live action thorki fanfic that Asgard unaccountably loved, Loki stonewalling Odin's attempt to reconcile bc fuck Odin, Thor's lightning powers, Bruce banner is now a Jewish grandma, Hela have I mentioned Hela love that girlboss, Jeff goldblum love that wiggly man, the Valkyrie love that angry girl, "piss off ghost", inglorious deaths for all the warriors 3, "I'm here" (screaming, crying, shaking), the story about how Loki bit Thor as a snake as well as the confirmation that they are in fact the same age

I have complicated feelings about Thor's canon development tbh. On a very ground floor sort of reaction, I despise what they did to My Boy in infinity war and endgame. I think it's a disgusting character assassination and I don't think the russos understand humour and specifically how to use humour to expand on tragedy like what thor3 did.

On the other hand, if you've read my fic and meta, you'll know that I've accepted the canon development, bc at this point, I've done a LOT of very deliberate and concerted labour to MAKE the canon development we see between thor1 and endgame WORK. But, like, there was a LOT of labour that I, specifically, put into it. It fully relies on me specifically doing a lot of digging and reaching and mining these movies for every possible frame of content to the point where I am pretty sure I've put more effort into making all the development make continuous sense than any of the screenwriters put into the actual development.

And I think I've probably just drank too much of my own Kool aid but like, I am in a position now where I do think my interpretation of Thor's character development is THE most complete and accurate reading of his character development. Key to these points are: a) I think he is an ex-imperialist who is currently and actively trying to deprogram himself from the colonialists' mindset that Odin instilled within him b) he is trying to deprogram himself from Asgard's culture of extreme toxic masculinity wherein he was not taught to have any sort of emotional processing that did not involve physical violence c) Loki is/was/always will be the person he loves best

So like, as I try to show in my thorki canonverse fics (shameless plug for myself), I can make most of the bad decisions made about Thor's character in infinity war and endgame work if I recontextualize all of his canon actions with my own (well supported, well documented) headcanon'd baggage. Of course he goes on a death wish mission to get revenge on Thanos -- he has a literal deathwish bc he was already supposed to die with Loki. Of course he sinks into an unshakeable depression afterwards -- he has no identity now that he has no family bc he was never taught to live by himself or for himself. Of course he leaves new Asgard and abdicates his rule -- he hasn't wanted a hand in the dirty business of Empire ever since Odin's ambition got his mom and brother killed in thor2, and that hasn't changed. I try to make him go through all the canon-implied feelings and anxieties and doubts in front of the reader. My entire goal of this is that people read my shit, then look at canon and think "oohh that context DOES make it better!" I will be gratified if that is the case.

(The only thing I cannot fix is the bit in endgame where Thor walks past Loki's Tupperware cell and the narrative doesn't come to a screeching fucking halt as Thor has so many feelings that he has some sort of paralytic breakdown where he simultaneously wants to commit Time Crime (tm) so he can just stay here forever and also wishes he could just die here, next to loki, like he was always supposed to. Like, that needed to happen to really lynchpin all of my work together into one smooth, problem free reading, but I'm not allowed to have nice things so)

(oh also I didn't like Thor calling frigga "mom". Shouldn't it at least be "mum"? I think "mother" is best tbh, bc I don't really read them as having that sort of relationship, see "toxic masculinity", see also "homosocial socialisation")

(and ok I get that it was a nice moment for Thor to call the hammer back to his hand, and I get that it even still works with my headcanon that mjolnir finds Thor worthy still bc Thor is defending the imperial asset that is Midgard, but like God damnit. The uncritical and unquestioning use of that word "worthy" when he catches the hammer again. Like worthy of what you guys? Do you ever ask yourself that question bc I very much do. I kinda wish they didnt bring it up at all, or if they did, it didn't come back to Thor's hand and he is just like, wistfully, "that's all right, I suspected as much. I'm such a different man now, mjolnir doesn't recognize me. I don't think I'd be alive right now if I had been the same man I was")

Wow that got long, anyway, thanks for chatting with me! Again, always a pleasure to field asks!