#so i went with the easy route out instead!

[thetriumphantpanda]

baby, it's cold outside | joel miller

Summary | Patrolling with Joel is always easy, he's your friend after all, but when a snow storm forces you to stop halfway, you're both faced with feelings that you'd both rather ignore, but with nothing but time, talking about them is your only option.

Word Count | 4.2k

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings | Explicit 18+. A snow storm and a cabin with a nice, warm fireplace. Unspecified age gap. Explicit smut - unprotected PiV (don't do this, pls be smart), oral sex (F), size kink if you squint, dirty talk, two idiots who love each other, some negative feelings towards the holidays but nothing else I can think of!

Authors Note | A huge thank you to the wonderful @hellishjoel for setting the 12 days of Pedro up and asking me to take part - this was so much fun to put together and I hope you all love it as much as I do!

12 Days of Pedro Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Thank you to the wonderful @saradika for the divider!

Despite having lived in Wyoming for years now, the winters were still a surprise to you. Icy cold winds, frosted windows every morning, thick downfalls of snow almost daily and a struggle to get warm no matter how many layers you wore. Some would call it picturesque, and you suppose you could see it, everywhere you turned in Jackson at this time of year, even though it was against the backdrop of the end of the world, it looked like it could adorn the cover of any Christmas card or be the setting for any Christmas movie. It didn’t matter, because you hated it either way.

When the tree went up in the centre of town, and the lights got switched on, it only served to remind you how solitary you were. How you existed mainly entirely on your own. No family, barely any friends, always the talk of the gaggle of girls who would whisper to each other whenever you passed and start laughing to each other, or the boys who always wondered why instead of hanging around with people your own age, you opted to spend it alone, or with someone who was pushing sixty.

Because if there was a single person in this Godforsaken town that you could class as a friend, it was Joel Miller. Quiet, closed off, unapproachable until you chipped away at his hard exterior, just like you in so many ways, it was actually sickening really. You liked Joel, ever since Tommy had put you two together for patrols when Maria had given birth, it was like you’d found someone who finally understood your need to be alone.

Patrolling outside the walls gave you peace, let you leave your loneliness behind for a while, just you and the ground beneath your boots, the feeling that you were doing something wrong, were less of a person because of your lack of friends and relationships left behind at the gate. You’d proven yourself capable more than enough times for Tommy to realise you were an asset. You’d saved more than enough people with your good aim and quick trigger finger, been ruthless in getting rid of raiders who strayed too close to your safe haven, and he knew your need for solitude, which is why he trusted you on these longer routes, on the more complicated patrol rotations, the ones that would get you out of Jackson for a week.

You surmise that’s probably why he chose to pair you up with Joel. In the two years you’d patrolled together, you’d come to realise that he needed that solitude just as much as you did. A way to leave behind being a father at the gate and remind himself of exactly who he was before. Out here, walking side-by-side next to you, he wasn’t Ellie’s dad, he wasn’t the man who still woke up in cold sweats remembering the heavy weight of his dead daughter in his arms, or that man who had lost almost everyone he’d ever cared for along the way, he was just Joel. Joel, who was more comfortable cradling a rifle in his arms than he was his infant nephew. Joel, who preferred comfortable silence instead of filling the quiet with talk. Joel, who, even when you suspected he hated you at the start, would have protected you to the death no matter what.

You were similar, far more than you’d like to admit, and as the weeks and months had drawn on, and you’d moved into being more comfortable with each other, he really was one of those things you’d wanted for so long. A friend. Someone to rely on, someone to drink with at the end of a hard patrol route, someone who made sure you ate when it was the last thing on your mind, someone who fixed the hole in your roof and put new planks of wood on your porch when you almost fell through it one day, someone who confided in you about how hard he found being a parent again, someone who opened up to you when things started to sour with Ellie. A friend.

He was also someone, in the last six months, that you suspected wanted to be more than your friend. It had started small, with things any good friend would do. He would offer you his arm when you walked during the winter so you wouldn’t slip, started packing double lunch so he knew you’d eat when you’d go out together, but then it was the hand on the small of your back through town, or the way he’d sit close to you in the bar, knees knocking against yours just so he could put a hand on your knee to apologise for getting too close.

And it’s not like you didn’t see that in him either. For a man who was almost sixty, he was incredibly handsome, able to do unspeakable things on patrol that neither of you would talk about to anyone else, strong in a way you didn’t think you’d ever seen before. Sure, his hearing was shot in one ear, his middle soft with age, and his hair and beard peppered with grey hair, but Joel Miller was a sight.

But, what if you’d read his signals wrong? What if his kindness and that warm hand on your knee was just him being a Southern gentleman? You throw yourself at him and he doesn’t feel the same, what happens then? You lose one of the very few friends you’ve ever had, and that’s somehow worse than knowing you’ll never know what the feel of his skin is like under your touch or what it sounds like when he moans your name for you.

The patrol route is brutal this day, wind and snow making it hard to see anything in front of you. You and Joel had to shout loudly to each other in order to hear anything, so when you stumble across the cabin, halfway through the route, you both decide that it’s best to head inside, get warm and wait out the worst of the storm before carrying on. Safer that way, is what Joel said, but you think it���s got more to do with the cold on his joints than the safety. Even at your younger age, your bones were certainly aching.

The wind whips a flurry of snow into the abandoned cabin when Joel pushes the door open, ushering you inside quickly, shutting the door quickly behind the two of you before more snow can follow you in. He sets his rifle down near the door and his backpack on the worn, moth-eaten couch, kneeling in front of the fireplace.

This particular cabin is a regular stop on this patrol route, an agreement between the residents of Jackson who frequent it to keep it stocked with firewood during the cold season. You silently note to thank whoever had patrolled before you for stacking the fireplace so all Joel really needs to do is set fire to the scrunched paper dotted through the wood to get the warmth of the fire flooding the small front room.

“Reckon we’re here for the long run,” Joel grumbles, holding flat palms up to the flames to warm his hands, “Ain’t no way we’re walking anywhere in that.”

And he’s right, the light of the day is fading fast and even in daylight, the blizzard had been a nightmare to traverse. It’s not like you’re wanting to rush back though, you sometimes wish you could pack everything up and come out here for good, live in your solitude until the end of your days, but for now, just a few more nights away from the place that reminds you just how alone you are will do.

You settle down on the couch, trying to burrow further into the coat around your body, not bothering to take your gloves or your hat off until the flames of the fire are stronger.

“Come sit closer,” Joel murmurs, motioning with his hand for you to sit on the floor next to him, “Warm up a little.”

You slip down from the couch and scoot along the floor until you’re sat next to him. Joel reaches over and takes hold of your wrist, gently pulling off your glove, “They’re damp,” He states, reaching for your other hand to do the same, “Take your coat off too, you’ll get a chill otherwise.”

Working to unzip the front to pull it off, whilst Joel throws an extra few pieces of wood on the fire, you settle a little bit closer to the flames, feeling the warmth start to seep through your other layers. He stands, taking your coat and his, hanging them on either end of the fireplace to dry out a little, then he sits back down next to you, although a little closer than he had been before, so close that you can feel the heat of his body next to you.

You take a moment to steal a look up at him, his body larger than yours, towering a little next to you, but in the glow of the flames he’s fucking breathtaking. You get lost in tracing his jaw and the hook of his nose with your eyes that he’s turning his head to face you before you can turn away from him. He catches you with that small smile that is saved only for his family normally, Ellie, Tommy, sometimes Maria, and now, more often, you. So you smile back at him, let the warmth lick through your body, and before you realise it, he’s leaning his, broad shoulders bumping yours as his face gets closer, and God, it would be so easy to let him do it, move your face towards him, press your lips to his and burn it all to hell, but as he inches closer, that pit is opening in your stomach, bubbling anxiety and dread, so as he inches closer, you have to stop him.

You bring one of your fingers up to press against his lips gently, watching as he purses them against your touch a little, but then his eyes open when you speak, so softly, so quietly that he almost missed your plea, “Please don’t.”

It’s like you’ve burnt him with the way he not only drags his face from you, but his whole body, putting so much distance between the two of you that you almost cry. He clears his throat, running his hand over his face, “Right,” He mumbles, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” You insist, not meeting his eyes though, “You don’t need to be sorry.”

“Stupid of me,” He shakes his head, “Just thought-” He sucks in a breath and pushes it out on a sigh, “Thought maybe you’d feel the same, but it was stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid, Joel,” You sigh, finally turning to him, “It’s okay.”

“Makes sense,” He shrugs, eyes boring holes into the flames in front of you, “I’m old, too old for you to want me.”

“It has nothing to do with you being too old for me Joel, I couldn’t give less of a fuck about that.”

You expect him to drop it, like he often does with these kinds of conversation, the ones that involve feelings, but he doesn’t.

“Then what is it?”

“Well, it has nothing to do with your grey hairs or your creaky fucking knees, that’s for sure.”

He’s looking at you with a look that says to get fucked, hurry up, tell him the real reason for all this.

“I could be shit in bed for all you know.”

“Well that’s easy to rectify, just need a little practice.”

It makes you snort, “Can we be fucking serious for a minute, Miller?”

“You’re the one who said it first.”

“What happens when it goes tits up?” You ask, “When you get bored of me, or realise I’m not what you thought I was, what happens then?” He opens his mouth to respond to you, but you beat him to it, “I lose my best friend, that’s what happens, the only person in this Godforsaken world that I have, and I don’t want that, I don’t want a world where I’m without you.”

“Who says it’s going to go tits up?” He counters, “Baby, I’m old, I ain’t gonna go running off, I just want somethin’ good, somethin’ happy, and I want that with you,” Just like you had done before, he starts talking again before you can add something, “Put your faith in somethin’, darlin’,” He’s moving back towards you now, shifting closer, “Put your faith in, me.”

It sounds so easy when he says it like that, because you had once before, without even realising. Let him in, let him get close, to know everything you’d been through, share everything he’d been through. You let him sit with you late at night in the summer, strumming his guitar on your porch, he lets you share his whiskey when you need it.

“I’m still gonna be your best friend,” He urges, that warm palm resting on your knee, “That ain’t gonna change, we’re just gonna add to it.”

And for some reason, it snaps, all of your good judgement and everything that was holding you back. His face is cradled in your palms before you know it, your body straddling his lap as your mouth slants over his, a surprised gasp swallowed by your mouth as his lips open against yours, his hands coming to rest on the globes of your ass through your jeans, pulling you closer, chest flush to chest as you soak this in.

Hands dropping to the collar of his shirt, you start to slowly unbutton it, mouth still against his, tongue tasting him as your fingers push button after button through their holes until you can push it from his shoulders, drag his arms from it, drag his undershirt from it’s place tucked into his jeans.

Joel gasps when your hands make contact with the skin under it, fingers still slightly icy from the cold, but that too is swallowed by your mouth, as is the moan that drags from your throat when he bucks his hips into yours.

He pulls away from your lips, forehead pressed to yours as you both breathe deeply, “Don’t seem shit in bed so far.” He chuckles.

“I was fucking with you Joel,” You smile, punctuating it with a roll of your hips into his, “I’m a delight in bed.”

“Prove it.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“This is the floor Joel,” Which earns you a squeeze to your ass, “I’ve never fucked someone on the floor before.”

Before you know what’s happening, he’s flipped you over, your back pressed to the dusty wooden floor, his body looming over yours, fingers picking the button of your jeans apart, pulling the zipper down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down your legs, underwear along with them too, before they’re thrown behind him somewhere, forgotten as he parts your knees, legs spread, exposed to him, and you think you might die from the way he looks at you. You bury your head into your shoulder, trying to escape his gaze as he drags his thumb along your folds, growling when he feels how wet you are just from his mouth on yours.

You’re vaguely aware of the sounds of his feet hitting one of the armchairs behind him as he lowers his chest to the floor, hands pulling at your hips, your back dragging across the wooden floor as his mouth presses a single, feather-light kiss to your clit. The smallest of touches to your body has your back arching into him.

How long has it been? Not since you fucked someone, because in the grand scheme of things that hasn’t been too long. No, how long has it been since someone actually made you feel good? Years, you think. Too long. Too long since sex was anything more than just stress relief, pressed against the brick wall by the Tipsy Bison, letting someone fuck you so you could feel something, giving them the bragging rights of fucking the town outcast in return.

This is different. So different. Joel is slow with it, parting you in front of his face with his thumbs, tongue swirling through the slick you’re not even embarrassed about now, tasting you, drinking you in, before he drags his perfect mouth up, lapping gently at your clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Taste so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He coos against your skin, his praise making you preen, hips chasing the feeling of his mouth on you, he chuckles at your desperation, “How long’s it been since someone made you feel good, huh?”

Your fingers tangle in the curls on his head, dragging him back down to your cunt to silence him, “Too long.” Is all you offer as he feasts on you.

Tongue swirling, lips suckling, fingers digging into the skin of your hips, dragging you slowly but surely to the edge, the fire in your blood no match for the fire against your skin. He’s fucking good at this, knows exactly how to listen to your moans, the way you pull at his hair when he does something you like, collecting the little gasps and hip movements until he’s working a pattern on your pussy that makes you feeling like you’re going to explode, combust, maybe even die a little.

“Don’t stop,” You urge, breathless, sheen of sweat settling across what skin of yours is exposed to the flames near to you, “Gonna - fuck Joel - gonna cum.”

That’s when he pushes two of his fingers into you. Hooking them up inside of your cunt, your legs dropping open further than you thought possible as he works you and works you. You’ve gone quiet, letting out only short breathes when holding them in makes your head light, fingers so tight in his hair that you think it’s probably hurting.

Then, you think you find God, right there on the dirty, dusty floor, when the coil snaps inside of you. Your back arches off the floor, thighs clenched around Joel’s head as his tongue continues the flicks against your clit, ignoring the high-pitches whines of too much, Joel listening instead to the movement of your legs, the way your entire body convulses until you truly are spent for him.

Joel pushes himself up onto his knees, dragging his undershirt over his head, pulling his belt through its loops as you’re sitting up, dragging the upper portion of your clothes off, naked on the floor for him, the flames from the fire keeping you warm, even if your nipples do pebble and peak against the cold.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel breathes out as your hand settles on your pussy, fingers dragging through the slick to lazily move over your clit, “I wish you could see yourself right now, baby,” He crones, pushing down his jeans, cock springing free, immediately clasped in his fist, movements slow as he watches you touch yourself, “Pretty as a fuckin’ picture.”

His body falls forward, coverings yours, but this isn’t what you want. Hand on his chest, you’re pushing him back, “Wanna ride you, Joel.” You whine.

Like a kid on Christmas, he’s on his back in seconds, jeans and underwear pooled around his ankles because if you’re not sinking down on him in the next few seconds, he’s going to scream. You settle your thighs on either side of his hips, his cock, heavy and throbbing against his stomach. He’s watching you, as you take the base of him in your hand, line him up with that aching core of yours, head notching into you, where you just keep him for a moment, let him stretch you as you ground yourself with palms on his chest, sinking down, inch by inch until he’s fully buried inside you, warmth wrapping around him, just like the warmth from the fire against his skin.

You start moving your hips, his cock so deep in you he swears if he put a palm on your lower belly, he’d feel himself through your skin with the way you’re grinding against him, head thrown back, mouth dropped open. He wishes he could take a photo of this. He doesn’t think he’s seen a nicer sight in his life.

“It’s a lot, ain’t it baby?” He coos, hands on your hips, guiding your movements, he knows he’s big, been told enough times through his life, but the way you’re slow, getting used to him inside him, has him on the verge of spilling inside you already.

“So big, Joel.” You whine, leaning back now, hands on his knees which have moved up, his feet planted on the floor now, and God alive, if he thought you were a sight before, you’re a fucking masterpiece now as you start bouncing on his cock.

He can’t help himself, he is only a man after all, his hands trailing up the curves of your side, taking hold of your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers, listening to the way you sing for him. Somehow, he finds core strength from somewhere, pushes himself up, one hand behind him to prop him where he is, as his mouth sucks a nipple into his mouth, rolling that pebbled peak with his tongue, your arm wrapping around his shoulders to steady yourself against him, hips still working against his, finger tangling in the curls near his neck, keeping his mouth anchored right where it is.

Joel pulls off you, a wet smack from his lips as he looks up at you with those beautiful brown orbs, “Feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” He praises, “So tight around me, like you were made for me.”

“Wanna feel you,” You moan, head dropping against his shoulder, “Wanna feel you come for me.”

He’s wrapping his arms around your back, dragging you down with him as he rests himself back on the floor, your chest pressed to his as he finally takes control. Feet planted on the floor with your teeth digging into his shoulders, he fucks up into you, the cabin filled with nothing but breathy moans and a lewd smack of skin as he pounds himself into you. In an ideal world he’d focus on making you come again, feeling you clench around his cock as you fall apart would be incredible, but he thinks there will be time for that later.

He’s so fucking close, you can feel it, the way his fingers are gripping t every inch of skin they can reach, the way his hips are faltering and how your name is more of a feature on his lips. You let out a surprise squeal as he flips you both, your back now to the ground as his cock slips out of you, his fist replacing the wet heat of your cunt as the warmth of his cum splashes across your lower belly, a howl, not unlike an animal, falling from his mouth as he paints you, claims you as his own with those ropes of cum across your skin.

When all is said and done, and he’s taken in the sight of your skin splashed with his spend, the two of you lying in front of the fire, one blanket dragged from the bed on the floor to soften the harsh wood, another pooled around both your hips, this feels like home. Both you and Joel, led on your side, watching each other, and the flickering light of the fire bathes you both in orange, in warmth.

His hand traces your face, thumb dragging across your bottom lip as he leans in to kiss you. Hours later, with harsh wind and snow still swirling outside, he brushes a thumb across your nipple, your hand reaching down between you to find him hard again. He puts you on your back this time, creaky knees be damned, slides his cock into your aching cunt once more, fucks you slowly, the entirety of his weight pressed against you. That orange glow almost convincing you that this was before, when things were normal, romantic even, as his lips leaves tiny bruises across your skin.

When he’s marked you once more as his, cum splashed from your pussy to your tits, he lies back down, the broad expanse of his back to the dying embers of the fire, your back pressed to his front, his arm snaked under your neck, urging you to sleep, and as you drift off, Joel’s hot breath against the skin of your ear, his other arm draped loosely over your waist, you pray that the snow is just as bad in the morning, because if it were possible, you want to return even less now, want to remain huddled next to Joel, on the floor, for the rest of your life.

[chufflepop]

The winners garden

This was inspired by my emerald rogue run (the old one), with my pidgeot whom I have named Victory after the run ended (or caught a pidgey in the safari and pretended it was her)

This'll be long because it affected me that much. I didn't expect to win this run- I thought I was a goner after Wallace. I swear this run felt like a movie sequence because my god it felt so climactic (to me)

Victory was a random pidgey I caught at before the first or second gym, and I was originally going to trade her off but I just felt like I lacked flying types. Eventually, I thought she was actually a really valuable member and kept her in. It also helped alot that the pidgeotite appeared the next time I got into the battle stop store, so it felt right keeping her around-

My team had a latios, thunderus, sylveon (who died but I managed to get him back because of the random lab encounter, thank god it was just a species curse), serperior, dracovish and mega pidgeot. Pidgeot with hurricane spam is so good I kept her around even more

It was a really solid team until I accidentally stumbled into a trainer battle while getting an item, and due to an unlucky crit, my latios goes down

At this point, I got mad because "AH, MY BEST TEAM MEMBER". He had a choice specs on and his job was to spam, but unfortunately, his psychic didn't kill the mega kanghaskan we encountered. It was unfortunate, I didn't level up because I thought I could avoid the trainer, but oh well

Caught a random alolan ninetales that did good aurora veil blizzard (after buying an ability patch) and I thought she'd be fine and for awhile, it was

Until I reached the champion. Wallace killed 3 of my team members, down went my serperior, my newly caught alolan ninetales, and my dracovish. And there was also an unskippable trainer when I moved on to the next route which killed my sylveon, leaving me with only my thunderus and my dear pidgeot

Remember the species clause I said earlier? That thing screwed me over when it only had 3 available pokemon (and worse, it was a water route so the surf point also had staryu, maybe I was just impatient and maybe another mon is in the surf point idk). I caught a starmie, a toxapex and a jellicent in that route. With the species clause active, I was handicapped to fight the REAL champion. I only had 5 pokemon instead of 6

The last poke stop. The trader was there, so I took a gamble with him and traded my starmie. And what came out of it felt right- It was a victini. At this point, I was giggling to myself like "I might win" because of victinis dex entry and such, about how it being with you is basically a guaranteed victory.

After I prepared my team to the best that I could and with some small confidence growing, I pressed on.

At this point, I only remember the pidgeot battle so I'm just trying to remember here and I'm probably wrong in some details

Red was the final champion and my victini took the lead. Victini died first, he was scarfed and spammed bolt strike until he MISSED. But it was still good enough, it was now a fair 4v4. Jellicent didn't have much, but he had will o wisp, which helped alot. He wasn't trained as well as the others so he was frailer than he was supposed to be, but he weakened one pokemon enough for thunderbolt range and died. 3v4 now

Thunderus tbolt, he goes down. Thunderus had a z crystal and it one shotted I forgot who immediately after.

It's now a 2v2

Terrakion. Easy enough for toxapex to take down (and spam recover)

2v1

Final pokemon was a giratina. Shadow force. Didnt want to switch out because tox was in good health and I wanted to knock off, but it critted and tox was lower than anticipated. Knock off did alright damage and I was sure it was a clear 2 hit ko if pidgeot lived. One outrage and tox was down

1v1.

My pidgeot, the pidgeot who's been with me since the start, the pidegot that I was going to trade away, the pidgeot that I doubted. From a little helpless pidgey to now facing Satan head on

She megas and hits her first hurricane but it doesn't kill and an outrage hits her and SHE BARELY LIVED. SHE WAS CLINGING FOR HER LIFE. AND THERE I KNEW, I KNEW I WON. ONE LAST HURRICANE AND DOWN GOES GIRATINA, AND MY SOLE SURVIVOR WON ME EVERYTHING!

IT FELT SO PERFECT. THE SPECIES CLAUSE, THE VICTINI, THE TOXAPEX, THE STRESS I BUILT, THE IMPORTANT POKEMON DYING JUST BEFORE RED, THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP TAKING DOWN POKEMON SATAN, IT DIDN'T LOOK LIKE MUCH VISUALLY AND SOME PEOPLE WOULD PROBABLY THINK IT'S CHILDISH, BUT I IMAGINED MY PIDGEOT ABSOLUTELY LOOKING COOL AND GOING HAM ON THAT FINAL BATTLE. THE FINAL BATTLE WAS COOL IN MY HEAD OKAY

After we won, I caught a female pidgey on the safari zone and named her Victory. It's the same pidgeot now pidgey that in my heart. And that's literally why I made this drawing. And also I significantly love pidgeot more now. I would also make an essay about my thought process when making this, but I think this tumblr blog is long enough (it was so corny ngl). Too bad I can’t bring her over but the newer game is fun too

I'm sorry this was long guys, I enjoyed talking about this way too much ahshsh

[air--so--sweet]

So, Aidan Gallagher was the last cast member to wrap on season 4, and he wrapped several days after everyone else which I've been presuming means we're getting some apocalypse flashbacks but I've just had another idea.

We see Lila and Five travelling to what looks like the original apocalypse, what if they see young Five in the apocalypse? I think it could be really interesting as I don't think any of the other characters fully appreciate what he went through (well, Luther appreciates what it feels like to live in total solitude). Especially when he came back looking exactly like he did when he ran away, but with an adult consciousness instead of a teenage one. It makes it very easy to forget he got stranded and had to learn how to survive in an apocalyptic wasteland as a literal child. While grieving everyone and everything he has ever known.

And I think for Lila to be the character to witness that, as someone who has quite an antagonistic, but also incredibly loving relationship with Five (I was going to say though neither would admit it, but actually I feel both of them had dropped almost all pretense of hating each other at the end of season 3. I don't know if either would verbally express love for each other but in the same way I don't know if either would verbally express love for anyone) would be incredibly affecting. Especially as, unlike his siblings, she never knew teenage Five, she has always known him as an adult who looks like a teenager. I feel like for Lila to witness firsthand the brutality Five experienced alone in the apocalypse, and to realise he was really just a child, especially now that she has a child herself...well I think it would be truly upsetting for her but also giver he a deeper understanding of Five and just how important his family is to him (and family is what Lila desires and values most in the world too).

But also, it will make her realise how similar Five's experience was to her own. Because both were caused to suffer at a young age by the Handler, Lila by having her parents murdered, Five by being left in the apocalypse for 45 years when she could have plucked him out at any point, and then exploited for her own gains with little to no care given to how it sould affect them. Five says The Handler made it so he couldn't belong anywhere, that she made him a killer; she more or less did the same thing to Lila.

Most theories I write are just 'Oh this would be cool if it happened' or 'Look at this ridiculous idea I had', but, now I've imagined it, I'll be really disappointed if we don't see Lila and Five witness younger Five in the apocalypse. Damn...

Also, while writing this it occurred to me that, if the scene where Lila is crying is in the subway, which is looks like it is, maybe she isn't crying because something happened her daughter or Diego (as most of us presumed), maybe it's related to her seeing something The Handler did in another timeline. Or maybe it's just the emotional impact of seeing The Handler in the flesh again, knowing Lila loved her and saw her as her mother, and The Handler was happy to murder Lila in cold blood when she realised she couldn't manipulate her anymore. That's bound to fuck you up. (To be be clear, because I think how I phrased this suggests we'll definitely see The Handler again, I have no idea if we will or won't but with the hopping of timelines it's a possibility.)

Or maybe Lila sees what The Handler took from her, what life would have been like if she grew up with her parents. Or again, the effect of just getting to see her parents alive and in the flesh. A train always stops in the same places, it can't just change course or route like any other vehicle. Maybe the subway allows you to move between timelines/time travel but only as an observer. You can't change or effect any events and therefore can't interact with anyone as a result. Imagine the pain of seeing your parents you thought you'd never see alive again and not bring able to interact with them in any way. Or maybe she has to witness their murder again knowing she can't do anything to stop it. It would be a really interesting parallel from their relationship in season 2 to have Five comforting Lila over the death of her parents.

[salty-an-disco]

you know…… there's an argument to be made to getting Contrarian in Nightmare instead of Paranoid. Like– you go for a third option neither the narrator or princess want, but you double down on anyway. In the original Nightmare, that was because you couldn't trust neither princess or narrator, but what if you started doubling down specifically because neither of them agreed with you?

That was how I fell into the swap au trap, with something I'm calling 'A Shift in Perspective' (or 'SiP AU' for short), where the swaps are all decided by whether or not I can find a good argument to why you should get a different voice in the game's routes. Here's the conclusions I reached:

Nightmare – Contrarian: like I already said in the example above, neither princess nor Narrator liked your idea and so you decided to double down on it to the detriment of everyone involved. Princess still feels abandoned by you, but she's also angry to how flippantly you taking this ("You think this is game? OK, then, why don't we play.").

I want to lean more into Nightmare's playfulness here, with some jigsaw and carnival themes. The way to the basement is a jolly ride that take you down to her lair with cheery-creepy music as you pass through exaggerated smiling and crying faces. Contrarian is still trying to make light of the situation, though there's a noticeable undercurrent of fear in his tone. Nightmare doesn't shut down your organs here.

Spectre – Opportunist: You did the job exactly as asked specifically to get that reward, but it turned out it was a bust, so you kill yourself and come back to the cabin in hopes the princess has a better option for you. In this read of the route, you take more of a 'hitman' role, being more focused on what you can get out of this situation as opposed to the act of killing the princess. Spectre doesn't change much, though her cabin has a more sterile feeling to it as opposed to old and abandoned. She won't be happy to learn you killed her just to get a reward, but is willing to hear you out. Now you just gotta negotiate your way out of this situation and make sure not to accidentally get yourself killed by saying the wrong thing!! (don't have many clear visuals for this one, more just a Vibe)

Prisoner – Cold: You completely ignored all of Narrator's warnings and advice. It didn't sound right to you, anyway, so you went straight for the princess, and it immediately became clear who you were more willing to hear out. When she kills you, you accept it without complaint; it's only fair, there was no other way for her to defend herself. If Cold is a steel-weapon in the canon game, here, he is a shield; willing to take on any hit if it means getting his way, and making sure the princess stays alive. In the basement (a stone cold prison with clear, (and very breakable), chains around the princess' wrists and neck). Prisoner smiles when you appear, like she's in on a joke, but doesn't say much. Cold still won't urge you in any particular direction; suggesting you can explore, examine the place, talk to the princess all you want– but in the end, you still have to make a choice. And it's a easy, no?

Wanna lean into the fact Cold is prolly the closest voice to Quiet's true nature here, and the fact that despite lookin' the most human, Prisoner is still the one you can get free by simply letting change happen around her; neither of you may know why, but you two intrinsically trust each other

Damsel – Stubborn: You very insistently didn't get the knife, didn't abide by Narrator's advice to not talk to the princess, resisted when he tried to force your hand, and made sure she would be the one to kill you. (Imagine Narrator saying, "A stubborn bastard, aren't you?" right before you die). There's no doubt now. Narrator is a villain who, for some reason, wants to make sure the princess dies. You won't let that happen.

This is the one where we focus more on the 'distress' part of Damsel in Distress. There'll be lots of traps and trials trying to attack her once you save the princess from the chains, and it's your job to make sure she gets out of there unscathed. Something of a scourt mission. Stubborn's fighting instincts here are directed to the threats around the princess instead of her; much like Cold, he's more of a shield than a weapon in this version.

Beast – Broken: You got absolutely wrecked by the princess like you were no more than a mouse against a lion. What hope can you have to survive in this situation? It's simply nature; you should just lay down and let it take its course. The basement here is much more open, and with an arid feel to it; more of a savana than a jungle. The princess lies in plain view, a mighty Beast that you cannot hope to face against. You have to fight against your own Broken spirit as well as this apex predator to hope you can have any chance of survival.

Witch – Paranoid: The moment you saw the princess chew her own arm, you knew you made the wrong choice. She's clearly not someone that should be trusted, attacking was the only option you had!! The Princess attacks back in surprise, immediately hardening her stance once she realizes what you did. The two of you die, and the way she clawed and bit at you only cements in your head that she's a tricky monster who cannot be trusted.

There is more than one entrance to the basement this time, and no matter which one you take, you'll end up in a labyrinth of roots and vines full of tricks and traps the princess laid out for you. You never see her clearly, but her cackling laughter follows you all the way. Paranoid will warn you of any trap before you can fall for them, and listening to her is the best way to avoid getting caught; though some of the things she perceives as a trap might not actually be there– the roots almost seem to move imperceptibly, and you're sure there eyes following you. Are they really there, or are they imagined? You'll find Witch right at the center of the maze, where you can either fight her or try to talk things out. Though none of these choices will really help you escape. You're already trapped.

Wanna lean into the cyclical feel of both Witch and Nightmare here, with your distrust/fear is what keeps cementing this cycle of violence you're both stuck on.

Tower – Smitten: (women that can kill you by stepping on your throat are kinda ho– [gets shot]) Right before you die, you see the situation for what it is. You never should've wielded that knife against her, she's a light that can't be snuffed out, don't you see? With that understanding is that you die. There are bells echoing in the distance when you enter the cabin, a beautiful place with ornamented windows and mobilia; really leaning into that church symbolism here. Tower is sitting as she waits for you with a soft smile on her face. Her voice is honey, and what she offers you is benevelonce and a place at her side, all you have to do is pledge yourself to her.

Instead of an imposing and impossible figure, Tower is more of the 'benevelont god' figure here. Still very much wants you to be under her control, but won't rush or press that offer upon you (she knows you'll accept it one way or the other anyway). Smitten is the only one forcing control of your body here, wanting to rush to her and kneel at her feet; you can fight him, or you can let him steal all the choices from you.

Adversary – Hunted: You tried to go for a killing blow, but you gave her too much time to prepare herself and now you're also at the receiving ending of her blows. Well, kill or be killed; you're both just animals trying to survive. The cave you find yourself in once inside the cabin has more of a humid air to it, and at the bottom, you find the Princess; Adversary has more of a scaled lizard aesthetic to her, and is eager to fight for her life again with you.

Hunted isn't as excited about fighting as Stubborn is in canon, but is very much willing to prove you can overcome this obstacle. Doesn't matter how many tries it takes.

Stranger – Cheated: "What the fuck do you mean the universe itself will warp into itself to keep you from leaving?!? That's absolutely bullshit!!"

That's all the argument I have for this one. Stranger themselves doesn't change much, the main difference is Cheated's reaction and how he goes about treating a world where you're choices doesn't seem to matter anyway.

Razor – Skeptic: There must be a reason you couldn't kill her before, and if you find the answer, you can make sure you kill her for good. You see this mission as a puzzlebox that needs to be solved if you want to slay the princess. The cabin is basically a escape room from the moment you step in, and will not let you progress unless you solve it. Each wrong answer slices you in half and gets you a new voice. New perspectives to see this rubix cube from!!

At this point, you overcomplicated this whole thing so much, it's all just a tangle of webs and knots with no rhyme or reason, with you and the princess (who's at this point, just a mess of wires and steel) stuck right in the middle. The only way to escape is shutting down all your thoughts and cutting through the knots with her.

+ some doodles I did for this concept

[auspicioustidings]

I love your work! May I please request ghost finding a captured civilian in an enemy base and taking her for himself?

Ah little posessive freak Ghost my beloved <3 I didn't know if you were looking for fluff or twisted Simon so I've leant towards the latter!

CW: Attempted rape (non-graphic), kidnapping

They had been warned there were going to be civillians in the building, but it wasn't the first time Ghost had to work around hostages to get the job done. It was an understanding on the team that whereever possible it wasn't going to be the huge fucker in the skull mask who dealt with that side of things. If they knew where hostages were being kept, that's where they sent Gaz or Johnny or even Price to settle them and get them out. Not the Ghost.

And that was working smoothly once again. Gaz had radioed in saying he found where they were being kept, had taken out their guards and would wait for the all clear for an exit route for the handful of doubtless terrified little civilians looking at him like he was the second coming for saving them.

They were all accounted for and that always made Ghost feel some tension bleed away. The last thing he needed to be worrying about was hostage situations.

The rest of the mission was easy enough, taking out any enemies and finding the saferoom to snoop around in for intel. It was laughably easy to get into. Saferooms only really worked if the person who knew the code didn't spill it at the first little twist of an arm, the press of a knife against their throat. They only worked if they were used. But obviously playing at warlord the man was arrogant, thought he could easily take on whoever came at him. Idiot. The moment he had the code, Ghost had no more use for him until he could get him somewhere for a proper interrogation, so he was smacked in the skull with a pistol and out cold. His fingerprints and eye scanner worked just fine even with him unconcious and the code he had given beeped with a green light and the click of a lock.

It was a damn good thing that you assumed it was your captor coming in and so were aiming the cast iron at where his face would be. Instead it smacked into the tactical vest of a much taller man. You hissed and spat and fought like a feral cat when the man immediately reacted by grabbing your wrist and twisting so you cried out and dropped the pan. There went your weapon, there wasn't much else to use in this little safe room but for the small implements in the kitchen and you hadn't felt confident with a knife. A blunt object with a larger surface area had felt like a better bet.

"Don't fucking touch me! I'll claw your fucking eyes out!" you spat out at what you were sure was a bloody monster.

You had been a victim of wrong place wrong time about 12 hours prior. You had broken down on a stretch of road that barely got any use and had fuck all phone signal to get help, so were at the mercy of someone passing by. Just your luck the someone passing by was some slimy asshole with a compound nearby he thought to drag you to. He had found out quickly he wasn't getting his hands on you without a fight. You were a bit of a mess, shirt torn and what you suspected was a cracked orbital bone from where he had punched you after you bit his tongue. You wished you had bit fucking harder.

The only thing that had saved you in the end was the alarm going off. The man had thrown you into the safe room, telling you that once he had dealt with whoever dared break into his base he was going to fuck you bloody. You'd kill him before he got the chance. You'd fucking kill him before all this adrenaline fuelled fight turned into fear and had you accepting your fate.

The monster in the skull mask didn't have the laugh of a monster. It was gruff but there was something very genuine about it. He had his hands on both of your wrists, locking them so you couldn't scratch at him with yout body pulled right into him so you couldn't kick either. Your wrists were pinned at your chin so you couldn't even bite at him. Didn't much stop you from fighting, trying to just drop all of your weight to get him off balance. The added weight did not phase him in the slightest.

"Settle sweetheart, I'm the good guy."

"Do good guys often wear skull masks?!" you hissed back, still struggling to no avail.

He manouvered so that you could see out of the doorway and to the passed out man on the floor.

"They do when they're going after bad guys."

It was like all the adrenaline had finally burned off at right that moment and you felt yourself go boneless in his hold, fight gone. You had a sick moment of being disappointed that you could see that the man was still breathing.

"We sure all the civilians are accounted for?"

You felt a little dazed as you squinted back at him before realising he must have been speaking on the radio. Whatever he heard back must have been interesting because he looked at you, considering, before twisted the little dial to another channel.

"Got a stray, let's keep it out of the reports."

Simon knew that the 141 would back him up. After all, him and the Seargants had always admired the relationship between Price and his wife even if when they first met she kept trying to murder him. She had grown out of it after a few years.

And Simon had never felt like this before. He thought you truly would have killed him if you had been able when he opened the door. It was love at first murder attempt for him.

He cooed at you and comforted you the whole way through exfil. It wasn't until you realised that you couldn't leave that it really started getting fun.

[milf-murdock]

Unsteady (Simon x Johnny x Reader)

Request: Simon and Johnny taking care of F!Reader

Summary: Simon and Johnny take care of you after you almost pass out at the pub.

TW: heavily implied disordered eating, almost passing out, mental health concerns, medication mentions (nothing specific but could be read as ADHD medication side effects).

A/N: Hi anon! Thank you so much for your request and your kind words! I'm choosing not to publish the ask because I think there are some triggering words that I won't be able to hide under a "read more" line, but I hope that you enjoy this and find some comfort in it.

As someone who has also struggled with EDs in the past, please, please, please do not be afraid to ask for help. There is nothing glamorous about eating disorders. They absolutely need to be taken seriously.

Instead of going the full ED route with this one shot, I took it down a slightly softer path and based it off of my experience with ADHD and how it has led to me accidentally missing meals.

The din of the pub faded into the background as you sat in the corner booth of your favorite pub. You were pressed up against Simon’s bulky frame, one of his strong arms wrapped around your body, keeping you tucked in close. Johnny sat across the booth, taking in his favorite view: you wrapped up in Simon—his two loves, his whole world sat right across the table from him. 

Your empty glass clinked against the others as your set it on the table. “Looks like we’re ready for another round,” you said, smiling up at Johnny. 

“Mm, that it does,” Johnny smiled back at you, and you felt like you could absolutely drown in those ocean eyes. 

“You tryna get us drunk or something, love?” Simon teased, lips pressing against your collarbone. 

“Something like that,” you laughed, turning your head meet his lips for a quick kiss. “Here, I’ll go, order them” you reasoned, being on the outside of the seat and closest to the bar. “Be right back.” You pushed yourself from the booth to your feet, and instantly the entire room started spinning.  Damn, you thought to yourself. That beer is hitting fast. You went to take one tentative step, and then the room started to tilt, the floor coming up at you fast. 

Johnny was out of his seat in an instant, having picked up immediately something was wrong from the moment you stood up. His two large hands reached out to steady you, catching you in his arms. “Easy now,” he grunted,  bracing you both. “I’ve got ye.” He gently lowered you back into the booth, letting your weak form lean up against Simon. Simon’s hands instantly held you against him, supporting you. At the edge of the booth, Johnny got down on one knee so he could be eye level with you. 

“Look at me, hen,” he coaxed. “What’re you feeling?” Johnny grabbed one of the ice waters from the table and gingerly helped bring it to your lips. 

You blinked, trying to get your bearings. The room finally stopped spinning. “M’fine,” you mumble before taking a sip of the water Johnny offered you. The icy cold liquid helped clear your mind. “Just got a bit dizzy.”

Johnny and Simon exchanged knowing glances. 

“What’ve ye had to eat today, lass?” Johnny’s voice was gentle, prodding, but his eyes were a dead giveaway to the concern and hurt he was feeling, already knowing the answer. 

“Umm, I’m not really sure,” you stepped around the question, your voice hesitant. “I think I had a banana this morning?” 

Simon let out a resigned sigh. “I’m assuming that would be half of a banana,” he corrected. “Considering I found the remaining half still in the peel on top of the dresser.”   

You eyelids fluttered shut, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Oh.” You let out. “Yeah, I went in there to grab one of your jumpers and I must have forgotten it.” 

It happened all the time, you getting distracted mid task. It had gotten even worse since one of the side effects of your medication was a suppressed appetite. You never did have quite a good relationship with food to begin with though. 

“And what about lunch?” Johnny continued his prodding. 

You bit your bottom lip, a nervous habit of yours. Wincing, you reply with a mumbled “forgot.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as shame flooded through you. 

At this, both men let out a sigh, completely in synch when it comes to their concern for you. 

“Love, we’ve been over this,” Simon started before being cut off. 

“M’sorry.” Despite your best efforts, a couple tears started to slide down your face. 

Johnny pulls you into his arms. “S’okay, Bonnie,” he soothed, running a hand up and down your back. 

“S’not okay, Johnny,” Simon snapped from the other side of you. “She needs to be eating.” 

Johnny shot Simon a glare. “I know that, Si.” He took a deep breath before pressing a kiss to your temple, your head buried against his chest. “He’s right though, bonnie. Ye need to be eating.” 

His hand slid up to grip your chin, forcing you to look up at him. 

“I know,” you whined, fidgeting under his piercing gaze. 

Simon scooted closer across the booth, a strong hand coming to rest against your back. 

“We just need to know you’re taken care of, love,” Simon began to rub his hand in a soothing circle. “Specially knowing we can’t always be here to take care of you ourselves.” 

“I know,” you sighed, feeling yourself shutting down. 

Simon and Johnny exchange another glance, Simon giving a short nod of approval signaling to back off for now. 

“Just promise us you’ll try,” Johnny pleaded. “For us. Please?”

You nod, sniffling. 

“I promise,” you sighed softly. “I’ll try harder.”

Johnny gave you a crooked smile, a favorite of yours. “Atta girl.” 

Simon pressed a kiss to the back of your head. “Now let’s go get some dinner, love. How’s that sound?” 

“It sounds…” you trailed off.  “Well, I don’t really feel that well.” 

Simon nodded his head knowingly. “Well that’s cause you’ve hardly eaten today.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Probably.” 

“Something easy then,” Johnny stated matter of factly. “Perfect weather for soup. Think you can manage that, dove?” 

You gave a small nod and let Johnny transfer you over to Simon’s strong arms. 

“Aye, good lass,” he gave you a quick peck. “Si, get our girl home and I’l go pick it up.” 

“Affirmative,” Simon agreed, giving your hip a quick tap to encourage you to try to get on your feet again. 

Johnny stood up and offered you a hand to help you up, Simon’s hands never leaving your hips until they were both certain you weren’t in danger of passing out on them.  

“I’ll see you both at home,” Johnny quipped, giving both you and Simon a quick kiss on the cheek before going to pay the tab. 

Simon helped you shrug into your coat and the two of you made your way out to the brisk Manchester air. 

An hour later, empty takeaway containers littered the coffee table in the living room as you laid on the couch with your loves. You were pressed up against Simon, leaning up against him, tucked under his arm. Your legs were sprawled out across Johnny’s lap, his calloused hands giving you the most delightful foot massage. 

“Y’know we love you, right?” Johnny’s voice broke the silence that had settled over the three of you. 

“I know,” your voice was low. 

“We just worry about you, love,” Simon urged, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. 

“I promise I’ll try to be better.” You sighed softly. “I love you both so much.” 

“We love you too, lass.” Johnny leaned forward to give you a kiss. 

“So much,” Simon finished, pressing another kiss to your exposed neck. 

[yanderederee]

TummyAche

a/n: tummy ache girlies unite; Hiragi is here to save the day lol. Please love him with me♡

ct: reader is straightforward and dorky♡

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

The day began as it would any other for Hiragi Toma. As always, he went about his morning, paroling the attentively. Aa uneventful as it was, the cool morning air and lull of pedestrian idle commotion served to tire the delinquent more than usual. So, en route back to school, he decided to stop by the vending machine for a quick black coffee.

However, hidden just beyond the vending machines broad stature, he noticed a human figure huddled over. He easily could have missed it had he not been so close. Cautiously, Hiragi toed in closer.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked, folding down to one knee to reach your current height. You gasped, not expecting for another person’s presence. “Sorry.” He quickly apologized.

You shook your head, groaning quietly. “You’re fine… my stomach just… really hurts…”

Hiragi nodded understandably. “Well, luckily for you,” he hummed, pulling out his tried and true Gas-kun 10. “I happen to have stomach medicine on me. Here, it’s chewable.” He offered you one of the small pills.

Awkarddky, you felt embarrassed having to admit, “I don’t like the powdery taste a chewable pill leaves behind…” Hiragi chuckled, and stood to his full height.

“Can’t blame ya there. Hang tight,” He examined the contents of the vending machine, quickly spotting a green tea option. That would probably be best for a stomach ache, right? After purchasing both of your drinks, he squatted back beside you, handing you the tea and medicine.

Quickly, you took both ingestibles’. After taking one, two, three, four large gulps of the offered tea, you released the can with a quiet ‘haaaaah’.

Though it may not have been your preferred drink of choice, it was rather good. “Do you just… always carry stomach medicine?” You asked, finally taking a good look at the kind bystander.

Hiragi laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… I get stomach aches pretty often, so it’s pretty much essential.” You giggled at his reply. “That’s unexpected.”

Together, you shared a few more words, a few more giggles. Until eventually, you could tell his attention was beginning to drift, as though he needed to be elsewhere soon.

“Say, what’s your name?” You asked, finally feeling well enough to stand.

“Hiragi Toma, 3rd year at Furin high school. Nice to meet you.”

You smiled at his introduction. He was kind, and easy to talk to. By the looks of him, in his tight leather pants and the dangerous aura radiating off of him, you were pleasantly surprised. Tall, respectful and thoughtful— and by your standards, very hot… just your type.

“Say… I hope this doesn’t come off strong but… can I… have your contact information?” You asked nervously.

Hiragi became baffled, eyes wide in disbelief. No one’s ever asked for his contact information so quickly upon meeting him. Sure, he thought you were cute; the way you laughed made his heart skip a little, and the way he felt so calm with your presence had made him let his guard down.

…But it wouldn’t be a bad thing to become closer to you…

“S…sure… is my number fine?”

⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

Days after your aforementioned meeting of one another, Hiragi found himself becoming more and more infatuated with you. For some reason, any free thought that wasn’t taken up by Bofurin, Umemiya, or his unpunctual juniors— had become filled with little thoughts about you.

Wondering if you got stomach aches often as well. Were you eating well? Hopefully. Maybe he’d ought to ask you himself, given how frequently you would text him. Perhaps he should find the frequency of your initiated chats bothersome, but it was quite the opposite; he instead felt giddy with every time his phone would vibrate, eager for a chance to duck out to check your message away from prying eyes umemiya.

Like now, he realized from a familiar buzzing. Peeking over to make sure his underclassmen were all distracted with other things, he quickly stepped off behind a corner, pulling out his phone to read your name.

Y/n: class is so boring… I can’t keep my eyes open (● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾ what are u doing ???

Hiragi♡: that’s not good. how about you try paying attention.

Y/n: so rude!!’ and u didn’t ansr my ??? !

Hiragi♡: im helping my friend out with gardening

Y/n: GARDENING‽?‽?!(๑･̑◡･̑๑) lol what a surprise!! i didn’t know u had a green thumb!!!!

Hiragi♡: i dont. i just water them whenever hes too busy

Y/n: interstng

Hiragi♡: you should probably put your phone away in class

Y/n: just got busted!!_:(´ཀ`」 ∠): ttyl

What the hell did ttyl stand for? Hiragi chucked audibly, rereading over the conversation a few times, heart feeling full. You were much more of a dork than you first let on, but in an endearing way…

Soon, he began feeling the oncoming presence of his curious juniors approaching. Quickly, he pocketed the devise, and joined back up with them.

⎯⎯⎯✦

A few days after that, your texts became less frequent. Hiragi was becoming increasingly irritable as the pattern spanned for the fifth day. You texted him maybe once a day, if only to say good morning, but hadn’t continued with your usual banters and chatter.

Had he done something wrong? He tried reasoning what it could be. Were you bored of him? It was possible… damnit! What should he do… Let it go? You weren’t inclined to message him after all…

But still, something was eating at him… he didn’t want you to stop. Hiragi looked forward to your daily rants and gripes. Just reading your messages was enough to make him break out in a smile. He was even becoming less careful in hiding your existence— Umemiya almost caught him once…

After toiling on it for too long, he decided the best thing to do would be to own up to it… soon. Maybe he would start with messaging you first.

Hiragi♡？: morning. are you at still in school?

Y/n: yahh..

Hiragi♡？: sounds rough. what time do you get out?

Y/n: two hours(@_@)

Hiragi♡？: do you want to grab a bite to eat after? i have a free meal coupon for ashitaba that i need to use.

Even while in class, you were notorious for answering his messages with lightning speed. Yet, after his latest text, all messages from you halted for an entire hour.

Did he come off too strong? Shit. He wasn’t used to this type of thing, maybe he should take it back before you decided to stop talking to him altogether.

An hour and a half passes, before hes sprung back into life with a new text.

Y/n: I’ve never eaten as ashitaba before. Id like to try it though

Was that a yes? Should he take it as a yes? Unsure, he scanned the message a few times.

“Oooohhh~ does our ‘ragi have a daaate?~” a sudden teasing voice cooed into his ear. “GODDAMNIT!” Hiragi screamed unexpectedly, instinctively throwing a punch into the white haired boy’s face.

Undeterred, Umemiya laughed. “Hohoho~ so it’s true! Hiragi’s got giiiiirlfriend~” Annoyed, Hiragi clicked his tongue. “We aren’t dating!” He snapped back. Umemiya audibly ‘oop’ed, covering his mouth in mild surprise. “An ex..?” “NEITHER!”

…

“So, you weren’t sure about her feelings, so you asked her out to eat to find out?” Umemiya asked, after Hiragi begrudgingly responded to his pestering to tell him everything there was to know about you.

Hiragi shrugged. “I… guess. It just felt like they were putting distance between us and i guess i just… didn’t want that to happen.”

Umemiya nodded along. “So you like them, right?” This question earned a grunt to leave Hiragi’s chest. “Who knows.” He huffed, standing up to leave the conversation.

“Good luuuck! Charm the pants off ‘er, so i can meet her next time!!”

…

Just by your school gate, Hiragi waited, scrolling on his phone.

Hiragi♡？: im outside ur school. spot me by the gate.

Y/n: YOURE HERE????????? (=ↀΩↀ=)

Seeing no reason to reply further, since you’d be seeing him in person before long, he smiled at the cute emoji you sent, and looked around.

Everyone. Was staring at him.

“I-is that a Furin uniform? Scary!!”

“Let’s walk the other way…”

“What’s he here for? Is he looking for a fight?”

“Should i call the police?”

Shit. It wasn’t exactly common knowledge for neighboring schools to know how the image of Furin has changed over the years. To the outside eye, Furin was still a good for nothing delinquent school who fought anyone and everyone. Maybe meeting you at school was a bad idea.

“Hii~ra~giii~” chimed a cheerful voice, breaking out against the harsh whispers around him. A particular group of girls stared the two of you down with wide, shocked eyes. Based on where you were skipping from and their placement, they looked to be your friends. “Ready?”

Hiragi looked a little uneasy, glancing between you and your very suspicious friends, all gathered and whispering with one another. “Uh… yeah.” He mumbled, looking away.

Side by side, the two of you walked to the restaurant he’d mentioned, all while your chipper chatter filled the silence. Talking about anything, asking him questions, leaving room for breathing space as to not overwhelm the conversation too badly.

You had just a weird way of making him feel… at ease. He thought he didn’t much care for carefree individuals who couldn’t mind their business. That’s how it was with Umemiya at least; but your comforting presence did something to ease any aggression lurking inside him.

Coming up on the restaurant, he pulled open the door expectedly for you. You gave a quiet thanks before entering. “Welcome i—“ the older man called in greeting, only to cut himself off when he was met with an unfamiliar face accompanying one of his most regular customers.

Baffled, the older man starred at you in gaping awe. There was no way in hell Hiragi was bringing someone as fine as you on a date here of all places.

“Quit it with the crazy eyes old man, table for two, please.” Hiragi spoke up after closing the door. While the old man was still taken by shock, he did his best to welcome the two of you in with open arms. Quickly, the two of you were seated, and met with hardy conversation with the cook.

“Well you’ve got to forgive me, but this is just about the most unexpected thing! The Bofurin boys come in here all the time, but it’s unusual for them to bring guests like this! Here, try this to start off! I got a few other things frying up right now, it’ll be ready in just’a sec.”

“That’s so kind of you..! I can’t wait to try it! But before that… Bofurin boys? Like, Furin high school, right?” You seemed to be puzzling little things together. You’ve been in town before, of course, but the only thing readily known about Furin was its notorious reputation; and how it had only in recent years began to change.

“You dont know Bofurin? Oh boy! They’re just about the most helpful bunch o’guys around! Can’t tell ya the number of times Toma here has unloaded a full truck for me on delivery day!” The old man hollered with laughter, slapping Hiragi on the back hard.

After putting in your respective orders, Hiragi sighed in embarrassment. “Sorry if he’s over the top. He means well.“

“No way!” You waved off his apology with a happy grin. “I’m even more interested now. Tell me about Bofurin! The locals seem to know you as a hero or something. Only had four random people call out to you asking if you needed anything. What’s that about?”

And so, Hiragi began unwinding the ever telling story of Furin’s history, how it came to be, and who they were now. The story took you by storm; your eyes glued to him as you watched the dangerous looking boy go on about how it’s important to help the people in his community, subconsciously smiling to himself.

Hiragi was compassionate. Perhaps a little harsh spoken and rough looking, but soft in the ways it counted.

“So cool,” you whispered to yourself, thinking only of the boy in front of you in that moment. “Huh? Yeah, i guess we try acting cool for everyone’s sake.” He chuckled back, earning a hot wave of embarrassment to flow over you. You weren’t about to correct him.

The food was great, full of flavor and home cooked goodness. “This is amazing sir!!” You yelled from your table, comfortable in doing so thanks to being the only three people in the eatery. “Don’t tell him that, it’ll go straight to his head.” Hiragi chuckled again. “My head is a respectable size thank you very much. Here, try these too Y/n!”

Finally after having been stuffed full of food, and sent out with more leftovers than you could carry alone, you were elated.

“Thanks for taking me out today, Hiragi! It was awful kind of Mr Ashitaba to tab our meals!”

Hiragi smiled, proud of his community for showing you such hospitality. “This is pretty normal honestly. I’ll make sure to pay him back next time though.”

Sharing amongst yourself a few more lines of conversation, Hiragi’s thoughts began drifting back to your lukewarm messages lately. Should he bring it up, or just leave it be? Would it be overstepping to insinuate any necessity to your conversations?

“Hiiragi? You there?” You asked, waving a hand in front of his face inquisitively. “Huh? Oh, yeah.” He cleared his throat.

You looked at him for a moment, as if reading his mind. “You can ask whatever it is you’re thinking. I have an answer.” You smiled knowingly.

Maybe you were sharper than he took you for. Finally, he exhaled. “It’s fine, honestly. I’m not upset or anything. I was… just curious. How do i even say it…” he grumbled, unable to find the words he meant. “Why my messages have been so dry recently?” You asked.

Slowly, he nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know it’s not really my place to ask that. We only just met, so it’s not like there’s any obligation or anything.” He cleared the gnawing feeling setting into the conversation, hopeful you remained understanding.

“Honestly… I was worried about bothering you, at first.” You answered. “I didn’t want to annoy you, so I tried holding back just texting you every little thing that crossed my mind… but then, after a day or two, I began feeling like, maybe you weren’t really that interested in me.” You looked away bashful.

“So I asked my school friends what I should do, and they said I shouldn’t message you at all… that if-if you were I-interested in me.. than you would show it… So… ”

Hiragi stopped walking, frozen in place. ‘Interested’, like in a relationship, right? Was he? He probably was, almost positively was. But with the way you were talking… is that something you wanted too?

“Sorry, I guess that kinda sounds like I was testing you… that was wrong of me, wasn’t it?” You looked down.

Hiragi’s heart was beating out of his chest.

“That’s fine,” he spoke calmly, slowly walking to close the distance separating you. He stood close, squeezing the bag straps of leftovers in his opposite hand. “Because of that, I realized how much I really like talking to you. I missed talking to you. And I know now that I want to keep that.” Hiragi slowly raised his free hand, careful in the way he gently brushed a loose strand of hair from your face.

“It’s new, but I think I like you.” He admitted boldly, locking eyes with you. Your face immediately ran hot, surely flush with embarrassment. Hiragi smiled at your cute reaction, and rested his palm on your warm cheek.

You wanted to reply, speak what was on your mind as you usually would… but you felt stunned, having Hiragi so close. You could smell the notes of musk from his cologne, feel the leather material of his jacket, and hear the soft exhales he released in nervous tension.

He made no movements, simply shifting his gaze from looking you in the eyes, to your lips, to examine your face, all to catch you off guard again with such intense eye contact.

He never did really get a good look at you the first time you met. Most of your interactions since then have been over the phone. Now that he could really pay attention to you, and put details to the face he kept imagining for the last few weeks.

Hiragi thought you were beautiful.

“Hiragi…” you would only manage a whisper, hearts racing in mutual tandem.

You gulped, and finally smiled, laying a hand on the back of his own. It was rough, his knuckles were dry and cracked, yet the texture felt comforting as you circled your finger tips over them. “I think I really like you too.”

It was so simple, so little words, that meant so much. He broke out in an uncontrollable smile, shark teeth on full display as his eyes squinted shut. Hiragi surely wasn’t looking for anything like this, a relationship. But he would be damned if he gave you up because of some half assed reason like that.

“I want to take you out again sometime. Soon. How does that sound?”

“Tomorrow?!”

“Well… I might have some free time. Have anywhere in mind?”

“Oh yeah! There’s this movie I’ve been really looking forward to,”

As you went on about planning your next date, Hiragi felt elated basking in your radiance; listening to you talk on about your movie interests, and answering when you asked him about his own opinions. All while helplessly reciprocating the hold on each others hand.

Even when you made it home, your energy felt palpable. Yet, you looked sad. “How will I know you made it home safe?”

He chuckled, patting your head. “I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Can I call you instead?” You asked.

“Sure,” his heart swelled at your borderline clingy nature. With these feelings being so new, he welcomed it. “See you tomorrow.”

Hiragi began to turn, but instinctively, you reached a hand out to grab his shirt. He paused, eyeing you curiously. It was too soon to admit you wanted to kiss him, right? But he seemed to like your straightforwardness, especially when it was tinged in shyness. And with how nervous you were, that’s exactly what you were.

“Can… I call you Toma?” You asked.

He smiled again. “Only if I can return the favor-“

“Absolutely! Please do.” You grinned so wide, grip tightening around his shirt. “Okay then,” you lifted yourself on your tip toes, pulling slightly on the materiel of his shirt, instinctively causing him to bend his knees ever so slightly at your will.

And quickly, you lay a firmly affectionate kiss on the side of his lips, not sure if it was more of his cheek. It was rushed, after all. Embarrassed but satisfied, you pulled back, practically fuming hot air from your ears. “W-well! G-good night Toma! Make it home safe!!” You yelled, quickly rushing for the door and slamming it shut.

Dumbstruck, Hiragi Toma remained on your doorstep, mouth gaping wide open, red as a damn apple. How the hell were you just going to run away from him like that? How was he supposed to react to that? WHAT THE HELL??

With no other way to release this sudden influx of deep emotions, he released a loud closed mouth scream into the palms of his hands. Quick to not make more of a fool of himself, he ran from the scene of the almost murder(his own murder); beet red and heart pounding unbelievably hard.

[musamora]

— ᴘᴇʀ ᴛᴇ ᴇ ᴘᴇʀ ᴍᴇ ɴᴇʟ ᴄɪᴇʟᴏ · ꜰʏᴏᴅᴏʀ ᴅᴏꜱᴛᴏᴇᴠꜱᴋʏ

content. gn!reader. based on a request. forehead kisses, flirting, slight character study, possible inaccurate depictions of italy, teasing, slight suggestive themes (towards the middle), soft!fyodor, translation at the end. muse-typical metaphors. not proofread. 1.7k+ words.

author's note. this was so fun to write! a very delicate balance of sweetness and humor, along with the slightest dashes of spice and angst. thanks to @rusmii for descending from the heavens to remind me of "love in portofino." i had it playing on repeat <3

would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!

It was difficult to describe the issues that arose from you and your lover's hectic schedules, at least to others. How would you ever begin to explain it—he's a terrorist dead-set on the eradication of sin from your world, and sometimes that doesn't mesh with your nine-to-five career. Yeah, that would be well-received at brunch. But it was your reality, and for the most part, you made it work.

Simple meals served between stints of scheming in his office; convoluted stories discussed amongst infrequent breaks in your living room. Both of you were aware that a relationship would not be easy, but you made it work. It wasn't for lack of trying on his part; however, you knew he disguised his desire to be close underneath a mask of perfection, pretending it was solely for your benefit. Sure.

So, to your surprise, a pamphlet appeared on your nightstand. You scanned the cover with scrambled thoughts—its glossed sheen describing the wonders of Rome—and when you inevitably arrived in his office to question its sudden appearance, he simply stated that he 'required a visit to the country' and that he knew you'd be interested in joining him.

To most, he's an enigma, but you read him like an open book. There was no use in pointing out his scheme, so instead, you settled into the idea of a vacation, joyfully assisting in any help he needed booking the trip—you had been to the city before and often spoke of your wish to return someday, which had seemingly caught his notice. He placed you in charge of specific details of the itinerary—smaller stops on your preset route, the transportation, restaurants for lunch—though he noticeably had already planned many of the larger events. 

And that's how you arrived here. Rome, Italy. It was as luminous as you left it. You traded in your everyday attire for breathy linen and flowy cotton, allowing the Mediterranean sun to dance across your skin. Your ebony-haired lover was not far behind in fashion, a stark difference from the heavy wools and flannels of his motherland, which you had forced him to leave back in Yokohama so as not to worsen his already weakened constitution. 

The brilliant city held a beauty incomparable, its streets nestled with centuries of history that went beyond books, laid to rest underneath soil and entombed in stone. Even Fyodor, with many years of travel under his belt, couldn't help but admire the manmade structures of a bygone era, which reached like beacons of human ingenuity into the firmament. 

It had been ages since you explored the streets, and it was better now that you had a partner to hold your hand, hopping from place to place as you took in every destination with a new perspective. And in your exploration, you prayed Fyodor would find a connection with some kind of sight, with anything at all. He was a man so distant from mankind that you couldn't help but fret over his self-made isolation.

You were both exhausted—you had been on your feet for hours, and even though he tried to conceal it, you'd be foolish not to notice the slouch of his back as he tried to fight off sleep. He struck you with a knowing look whenever you cooed at him, forcing you to advert your eyes straight out onto the road as you scanned for the vehicle that was supposed to take you to the hotel.

Half an hour passed—nothing. You started to get worried.

"We've been scammed," he said, beating you to the punch as he stood from his seat on the sidewalk. You filled in his place, slumping against a wall as you hid your face in shame—one of the few tasks he had charged you with, and you had managed to mess it up!

He let out a breathy chuckle, patting the back of your head like he were comforting a scolded child. "We'll simply get a taxi."

You groaned, your stomach twisting at the sensation of your own incompetency, before allowing yourself to peek between your fingers to look out into the open world—and that was when you spotted it. A quaint shop with a flickering sign and a handful of mopeds slumped over outside. Fyodor's gaze followed yours, his brows furrowing as he found the target of your ire.

"Absolutely not."

But you had already grabbed onto his hand and pulled him out into the street, with surprisingly little resistance from him as he allowed himself to surrender to your will.

"You haven't experienced everything Rome has to offer," you hummed with a noticeable smirk, tilting your head to gaze at him between your lashes in a mocking attempt to sway his favor. "Come onnnn, Федечка."

He huffed, although his normal stoicism held an unmistakable look of fondness. "Ты маленькая гадюка."

You didn't need a translator to understand the meaning behind his words, heart filled with an almost sadistic joy as you approached the older gentleman that was running the shop. He seemed equally as amused as you were once he deciphered the situation, trading cash for keys as you skipped out the door.

Fyodor had planted himself onto the Vespa's seat without complaint, though you could not help his striking resemblance to a child on a bike that was far too small for them. He had his legs propped at an awkward angle to keep them from scraping against the ground, and the subtle twitch of his brow told you everything you needed to know.

You, on the other hand, were more than comfortable enough to settle between his legs, leaning against his chest as you reveled in the rare domesticality of the moment. That was until two arms decided to slither around your waist, a span of warm breath prickling your skin.

"You're quite brazen for someone that fell right within my grasp," he cooed, his voice dropping into that velvety, sadistically sweet tone that never failed to make you melt. 

The bastard had planned this on purpose—he had reviewed your travel plans beforehand, including the transportation company. Much like you could read him, he knew your story from cover to cover, often reading over every page like his favorite novel. And he knew the best ways to make you squirm, his hand snaking up your side, brushing the sensitive divots of exposed skin as it made its way around your throat, giving the slightest but most lingering of squeezes.

That was until you unintentionally floored the gas pedal, propelling you both onto the street—luckily, there wasn't too much traffic at this hour. Despite the rush of the sudden acceleration, you had found that your heart returned to its normal pace as you moved with a rhythm within the twists and turns. You zipped past various sights, most of which were the most enjoyable, in your opinion—a glimpse into the lives of those who occupied these homes. There was a comfort in the consistency. People had passed and left, but the atmosphere remained the same, passed with care through every generation.

And then, your eyes caught onto something, and the muscles of your fingers instinctively flexed against the handlebars. The arms around your waist squeezed you when you began to tilt the moped steadily to the right.

"Don't—"

But you chose to do it anyway, slipping into a narrow sidestreet. You tried not to burst out in laughter at Fyodor's dumbstruck expression through the wing mirror, wishing to capture this moment in a frame somehow. Who knew that all it took to shut the mouth of the destructive mastermind Demon Fyodor Dostoevsky was a trip on a potentially dangerous vehicle? 

You had recognized the pathway as a detour to an infamous part of the city—a perfect view of the Tiber River. It was difficult not to divert your path straight into the water when you funneled out into the road, the setting sun drawing a picturesque scene that could not be replicated, even if you returned to the same spot at the same time. There would never be another moment like this again. That sweet breeze parted the sky, both cradling and revitalizing you. 

You crept onto a safe spot to park the moped and jumped off to rush to the edge of a bridge that overlooked the entire river, leaning against the railing while being careful not to tip your body over the side. The water sparkled and flickered from the rays of the dying light, twinkling as creatures rested underneath its surface. It enveloped you in an atmosphere of complete calm as if you and Fyodor were the only ones to exist in the world.

Speaking of.

His eyes had drifted toward a view completely different from yours, at least in aspects of physicality. You may have admired a sunset as the peak of fleeting beauty, but you seemed completely unaware that you encompassed every aspect of such a celestial entity, yet in such a strikingly ethereal way. He had seen many sunsets many times, much like he had seen many humans—unique and fascinating in their own way, but not always beautiful. But then, you crashed into his life, and he knew it was always intended for you to remain at his side. Much rarer than a sunset, much more precious.

He would take your life into his hands, ones stained in blood and sin, and unlike all the others he held within his grasp, he would nurture it—cherish it. Like a blossoming flower, he intended to care for you, an invaluable treasure.

He had already found the sight he had been searching for.

"Look!" you exclaimed, practically bouncing as you pointed toward the swaths of fluffed clouds that embellished the sky. "Isn't it gorgeous!"

You didn't even notice the slip of his mask as he joined by your side, brushing a kiss against your temple as he eyed the blooming excitement on your cheeks with your grin. The wind swept through in another attempt to swaddle you, letting the fresh smell of water brush through the folds of your clothes and the tresses of your hair. You turned your gaze to Fyodor, laughter caught in your throat as your eyes peered into his—locked onto you with an almost unnoticeable but most genuine of smiles.

"It truly is."

федечка = fedechka ты маленькая гадюка = you little viper

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @aureatchi @betweensinners @lovedazai @osameowdazai @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @squigglewigglewoo @kelperspelt @miloofc @s1eepybunny @dazaisms @deepseafragments @ajaxism @himikoslove @little-miss-chaoss @justcallmesakira

© 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋 2024 — do not repost or modify my works for any reason. do not steal graphics w/o explicit permission. reblogs are appreciated.

[inbabylontheywept]

Tactical Sulking

The human ship started the conversation by dumping all of its magazines into blackhole Kepler 92A. The PDC depleted their reserves within two minutes and the spinal mount took about twice as long. It would have been an impressive display of firepower if the Attali didn’t know for a fact that even a direct hit from any of the rounds would fail to punch through their hull. 

So instead of worrying they watched with the kind of morbid fascination that adults get while watching a child have a tantrum in public. They watched the ship light up, shitting ton after ton of tungsten coated iron into the corpse of a dead star until at last they ran out of ammo. Then and only then did the Attali send a second message over:

Are you quite finished? 

The response came back immediately. 

Gimme a moment, I’m just finishing a little math problem. But yeah, if it’s urgent, I can talk to you. What’s up big man? 

The Attali barely spent a second parsing over the message. They’d seen human bravado before. 

We sent you a request to surrender, acknowledging that none of your weapons are strong enough to pierce our hull. You opened fire on a blackhole for about five consecutive minutes. Tantrums and sulking do not impress us. 

The human ship took a moment to respond. 

Well, that’s a pity. The two things I’m best at are tantrums and sulking. The third is juggling, but in zero-g that’s… well. Easy. We could host a little talent show here though, if that would impress you. 

Are you going to discuss your terms of surrender, or are we going to have to kill you?

There was a longer pause before the ship replied back.

You know, a minute or two ago, that would’ve been a very scary threat, but you’ve got about ten seconds before shooting us becomes a mutual suicide. We’d strongly discourage that route. 

The Attali commander actually rolled his eyes. 

It’ll take a minute to charge our capacitors. I can promise it won’t be painful. Your bullshitting is a credit to

The message was cut off as a swarm of something ripped through the lower quadrant of the ship. The targeting sensors lost their minds - the projectiles were coming out of the blackhole. 

What the fuck. 

Main thruster was down, as were the nav lines. He had enough presence of mind to direct the side PDC, using recoil to push out of the line just in time to avoid the brunt of another burst of fire. A standard human ferroslug was caught by the lidar, but it was moving so close to C that instrument error was putting it at superluminal.

A second burst of mini rounds blew past the ship. They didn’t catch the brunt like they did the first time, but the stragglers in the burst tore through what remained of engineering. Casualty estimates in that quadrant went past 60% as the capacitor bank blew out, shorting out the main power conduit to their weapon systems. 

Without even PDC recoil to steer, they’d have been trapped, forced to take barrage after barrage of mysterious black hole bullets, if the human ship hadn’t taken the time to intervene. 

It rammed their craft. 

It was not a combat ram. It was a 15 mph collision that gradually turned up the gas. The little human ship chugged along, nudging the Attali cruiser out of the way, avoiding the next barrage by a mere 500 meter gap. 

It shouldn’t have been possible for a ship to look smug, but it did. 

The Attali sent the first message over. Telecom still worked. Life support was running on fumes, but of course the luxury systems were fine. 

What the hell was that? 

Gravity assisted munitions, the human ship replied immediately. The Attali captain had the damndest sense that they’d typed that in minutes ago and were just waiting to hit the send command. 

He took a moment to parse that.

The bullets weren’t being fired into the blackhole. They were being fired very, very close to it. Enough to slingshot around with stolen momentum. 

It was a stupid, stupid trick. And yet. 

What now? he asked. 

Well, the human ship replied. It was awful nice of you to not just kill us on sight. I suppose we could return the favor. Feel like surrendering today? 

There was a long, long pause from the Attali ship as the captain attempted to swallow his pride. The task was not made easier when, a few seconds later, another message came in. 

Chop chop. Tantrums and sulking do not win wars. *Exceptions may apply.*

[kichiyosh1]

He takes advantage of your feelings for him

modern au!scaramouche x reader

Ain't it nice when your crush is aware you have a crush on him and instead of being a prick and outright rejecting you he leads you on instead☺

warnings: it's in the title, good ending

༒༆࿐ཽ༵☆

It all started when he overheard one of your friends teasing you for taking a liking to him, which you were doing a horrible job at denying, with how quickly you stuttered out your words in protest. He might use this to his advantage, get you to do a couple of stuff for him and tease you a little bit in the process. Of course, he doesn't plan to return your feelings, pfft, no way in Celestia is that ever gonna happen. Totally no way would he actually start to appreciate you for something as minor as that.

How fortunate unfortunate of you to be his target out of the many others that also liked him, but why did he choose you? convenience? your naivety? who knows.

He wanted to test how far this crush of yours on him was, so the next morning he put his plan into action.

He never actually greets anyone he passes by, usually hanging around outside the school before the bell rings or just having his arms folded on his desk while he dozzes off, but today he put in the effort to say good morning to you before he rounded a corner.

Quickly doing a 180° turn right after to see your reaction, and low and behold you had your back to the wall, slowly sliding down, face in your hands.

Oh, so you really had it that bad for him, huh.

He was playing a dangerous game here, one that he was determined to win, and one he knew he would thoroughly enjoy.

Moves he'd make on you were subtle, but to you, from what he thinks, should be more than just subtle interactions, but meaningful ones.

He'd intentionally lean down right beside your ear, talking in a sweet voice as he pretends to ask questions while pointing at the notes he's seen you write down.

He knows the effect he has on you, can see how your hands struggle to hold your pen while your voice slowly becomes meeker as you explain the answer.

"Cute"

He didn't even realize what he said until he saw your hand stop moving. Luckily, everything still went into his favor when you abruptly stood up and quickly explained you had something to discuss with your friend, but he could clearly see how flustered you were.

He let's out a sigh of relief. 'It's alright, I meant to do that, just trying to butter up that idiot for the next step in my plan, yeah'

Something of uneasiness steers within him, but he ignores it.

These were just feelings of interest he's PRETENDING to have for you in order to gain your trust, nothing more and nothing less. It's all an act to get you to do stuff for him

But he has yet to realize the fast pace of his heart was the same as yours

Most of his assignments were already complete thanks to you, projects and reports he's forgotten to do, you are currently dealing with them.

It baffles him how easy and gullible you are

The guilt nips at his feet, but he strengthens his resolve saying you would have fallen for somebody else, and they would have done way worse things to you. (he gets a little agitated thinking about it, whether they'd use you for their own benefit or return your feelings, it makes him sick)

guilt tripping you didn't make it easier either

he wonders if you are aware of what he's doing, and even if you were then that's alright with him.

He'll keep this up, for as long as your heart continues to beat for him.

Its really short.

was gonna write a nsfw route but idk if i should since I'm really tired😪

[percervall]

lay all your love on me

Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: talk of pregnancy, descriptions of birth, not proof read and not beta'd Word count: 999

In which love multiplies

Agnes 

Your due date was estimated to be towards the end of April, right between the Chinese and Miami GP, and by some miracle, all three of them managed to be in Monaco when you went into labour. Mark had taken up leave to be home with you those last few weeks, just in case you went into labour earlier than expected, but baby apparently wanted all three of their dads home for their arrival. You wouldn’t say it was easy; labour was anything but easy, but going the hypnobirthing route did make the contractions far more manageable than you had anticipated. Kevin, Lewis, and Mark were all aware of your birth plan and had promised to advocate for you if needed. 

The room is a calm space, with only a few lights turned on as your midwife gently instructs you to push once more. On her advice, Kevin has settled himself behind you on the bed to support your body while Lewis and Mark are at your bedside, holding your hand. You had expected it to be too crowded, having all three of them there, but it ends up being exactly what you need. And as the rising sun filters into the room, you hear your baby’s first cries. Relief floods through you as you sag against Kevin.

“Congratulations, it’s a girl,” your midwife says, and you can hear the smile in her voice. Kevin laughs behind you, his voice thick with tears and when you look to your right, Lewis is also trying to hold back tears. 

“Did so good, sweetheart,” Mark whispers, kissing your temple. The midwife places your daughter on your chest and this overwhelming feeling of love washes over you. 

“Hi baby,” you say quietly, brushing a finger over her cheek. The girl blinks up at you, her face still a little scrunched up.

“Have you decided on a name yet?” the midwife asks after making sure you are okay. You’re now reclining against the pillows instead of Kevin, looking over to where Kevin is doing skin to skin with your daughter, Lewis right next to them. It still feels surreal that you’re a mum now.

“We’re taking our time,” Mark answers for you, probably picking up on your emotions. 

“I’ll leave you to it, press the button if you need anything. The lactation specialist will come by in about thirty minutes to talk through your options,” she says, giving your leg a squeeze before leaving the room.

“She’s perfect,” Kevin says, looking up at you. He is the picture of contentment, gaze soft as he takes in all her features. “Agnes,” he whispers, “if she’s biologically mine, that’ll be her name.” 

Margot 

This time around you had the foresight to plan a little ahead, trying to make sure your due date would fall outside of the season. Of course there was no predicting what would happen; babies have a mind of their own after all, so all you could do was make sure there was a plan in place for what would happen if Lewis and Kevin were out of the country. Luckily Susie had offered to look after Agnes when you went into labour.  

As fate would have it, the midwife who delivered Agnes also ends up being your midwife the second time around.

“Alright, you’re a pro at this point. Who’s the supporting partner this time?” she asks as she checks you over. 

“I am,” Lewis says. You can tell he’s both excited and nervous to finally meet this baby. The midwife instructs him to sit behind you. Breathing through the contractions, you allow Lewis to carry your weight as you focus on listening to your body’s cues. It’s still early in the morning and you are absolutely exhausted, but hearing your baby’s first cries makes it all worth it.

“Congratulations, another little girl,” your midwife announces and places your daughter on your chest. Lewis rests his chin on your shoulder and you can feel his tears drip onto your skin.

“Thank you,” he whispers, “I love you so much.” He reaches a hand down, resting it on his daughter’s head. Your heart soares at the sight of his large tattooed hand cradling the baby’s head so gently. 

“Margot,” Lewis says gently, swallowing thickly, “that’s her name.” 

Luke

Your third, and subsequently final, pregnancy and delivery are not without hiccups. Mark is a lot taller than your other two husbands and this baby is measuring big. It’s been uncomfortable, and you made all three of them promise to get a vasectomy, but you know it’ll be worth it in the end as another contraction hits you.

“Alright Mark, go sit behind your wife. Almost time to start pushing, okay?” your midwife says and you can only nod curtly. Mark rubs his hands down your arms as he rests his head on top of yours. Normally he would be the one to offer encouragement, but he knows you prefer the calm and quiet during labour. It both feels like it takes no time at all and forever all at once before you hear your baby cry.

“Third time’s a charm,” your midwife says with a chuckle, “you have a healthy baby boy.” 

And those words reduce your no-nonsense, rugged Aussie husband to an emotional mess. 

“A boy? We have a son?” he asks, voice thick with tears. He laughs wetly, dragging the sleeve of his jumper over his eyes. The midwife places the baby on your chest and as you take in his features, you know this little boy completes your family. Mark wraps his arms around the both of you, brushing a finger over the baby’s cheek.

“Your turn to choose a name, man,” Lewis says as he sits down on the foot of your bed, camera at the ready. Mark keeps his eyes on your son, the fondest look on his face and you could swear you fall in love with him all over again. 

“Welcome Luke,” he says quietly.

Inspired by a prompt sent in by @curiousthyme as part of this. If there's a fic you'd wish I'd write, please send it in!

I am unable to stop writing for girlypop and her gaggle of husbands

Please let me know what you think! 💜

[talaricula]

I'm seeing lots of speculation in the wake of the unwanted guest about whether absorbing Loveday's soul is what made Cytherea snap and sure, I see the theory, but personally as a cancer survivor I have never ever questioned why Cytherea snapped

Cancer is an existentially terrifying, often debilitatingly painful and/or exhausting illness, that, if not cured, takes over your body bit by bit, gets into the highly essential bits which increases the suffering and/or fundamentally changes you as a person, makes you extremely vulnerable and dependent on others, and almost inevitably kills you unless you get it when you're old enough and die of old age first instead. Its treatment is often just as painful and exhausting as the illness, or even more so, and doesn't always work. When you have cancer, there are two ways out: being cured (preferable) or, when that is not an option, deciding for yourself when you have reached the point where the suffering is so bad and the outlook so non existent that you would rather die now rather than later after even more and worse suffering.

And John took both of those options away from Cytherea and from her entire line of descendants. When he had the option to cure them all all along. Idk about y'all but the revelation in Nona that John could cure cancer was the number one earth shattering realisation for me. He did this to her, and to the entire Seventh House, on purpose.

This is the first giant betrayal to me. For generation after generation, for TEN THOUSAND YEARS, this man let the heirs of the Seventh House be sick for functionally their entire lives, likely starting in childhood, go through an incalculable amount of painful and exhausting experimental treatments bc he didn't even bring modern medicine into his New Order, and die in their twenties or thirties at best, when he could have STOPPED THIS ALL ALONG with little more effort than snapping his fingers.

Second big betrayal is towards Cytherea herself, but basically the same point : he could have cured her at any time. Before she became Lyctor, possibly, since we're not sure how static Lyctor bodies are, but Mercy's powers, Harrow's lobotomy and Ianthe's arm suggest that it would have been an option afterwards too. And he didn't. He let her have cancer for TEN THOUSAND years without curing her. And he calls himself her friend. Absolutely fuck that bastard.

Third big betrayal is the same betrayal that he inflicts on all the other Lyctors, but imo worse bc of Cytherea's illness. It seems from the books that Lyctors are, if obv not functionally immortal, at least Very Difficult to kill. Consequently, John demands Cytherea's loyalty not only in the form of killing the person she loves the most in the world, but in the very same act, in the form of cutting off the One escape route she has left out of the suffering he's purposefully keeping her in. In short, he takes the one person away from her who she perhaps doesn't resent depending on and, in the same act, makes it A Lot more difficult for her to choose euthanasia. (There's meta in this about the deeply realistic and also Terrifying ableism of John "admits openly that he'll pay any price so the people he loves can't leave him" making his sick friend dependent on him by keeping her sick, taking away her (arguable) main caretaker and cutting her off from the option of leaving him by dying.)

And at the same time that the other Lyctors realise John's betrayal re: their cavaliers, Cytherea potentially realises ALL OF THIS. TEN THOUSAND years of suffering, of seeing her House suffer, on top of losing the person she cares about the most, and ALL OF IT was avoidable, and not just avoidable but EASY TO AVOID? Is it any wonder she went on a rampage to bring down John and everything he cared about and had worked towards, and that she didn't care about dying at the end (or, perhaps, was even counting on that outcome)? I had cancer (as an aware adult) for a year in the best imaginable circumstances and am still fucked up about almost a decade later. After TEN THOUSAND YEARS and learning there had been another option all along, I'd have done WAY WORSE than Cytherea. I really don't think she needed to absorb anyone's soul to get there. It is, in my opinion, a deeply understandable and realistic reaction.

[jesterwriting]

Yahallo~ I was wondering if you might write something for Crocodile x reader where reader is sweet and bubbly and affectionate. So, I've had a scenario in my head for awhile where reader is his wife and she goes to visit him at his casino one day just because he hasn't been home in a while and she misses him. Except she's never actually been to the casino before, much less introduced to most of his crew because she's Crocodile's happy little secret. So the bouncers don't let her in and reader decides to cause a commotion, which draws Crocodile out and I'm never actually sure what happens from there. Lol I'd like it to be mostly warm and fluffy, though. I love the idea of a big cold man being warm only for their lover.

I hope you have a lovely day. You're a beautiful honey bun. ♡〜٩(ㆁωㆁ)۶〜♡

pairing: crocodile x gn!reader

contents: established relationship, fluff, secret relationships, kind!reader, smitten!crocodile, crocodile calls you doll, kind of implied the reader tops him later which i personally think is very powerful of them

word count: 1.3k words

note: this is such a cute and funny idea <33 i took some liberties with this, there is no big scene at the door, just because the kind personality of the reader i was going for clashed with that a little bit. and i went a gender neutral route just because it's easier for me. i hope you still enjoy anyway! i absolutely love secret relationships and would love to do more with crocodile and this trope :3

playlist: diet mountain dew - lana del rey

Not once did you care that you were one of Crocodile’s best kept secrets. You understood why such precautions were necessary. Your husband was a powerful man with countless enemies, to have his one weakness known to all would be a terrible oversight on his part. Not only that, but it would also put you in a considerable amount of danger. You were soft, you weren’t ashamed of it. To remain kind in a cruel world took strength. In your opinion at least.

Sometimes, however, it took more strength than usual to remain understanding. This was one such occasion.

You had your own life outside of your husband, much to his dismay. It was half the reason he insisted on keeping your union under wraps. If Crocodile had it his way, you’d be by his side 24/7, or at the very least, surrounded by bodyguards everytime you left his line of sight. He was a cautious man by nature. One did not achieve the power he had by being reckless, especially not with those he loved.

That said, Crocodile hadn’t been home in days and you were starting to get worried. You knew his work was dangerous, keeping Alabasta safe from pirates was not what you’d call an ‘easy’ job. Instead of waiting around for him to return home on his own — inevitably to grump about the kisses you placed upon his facial scar, or the tender way you ran your fingers through his hair — you decided to seek him out. If there was one place where he would be, it would be at the casino.

Unfortunately for you, they wouldn’t let you in.

“Again, the casino is closed to all outside patrons for an event. I can’t let you in if your name isn’t on the list.” The doorman was starting to get frustrated with you stubbornness. You understood why, really you did. This was his job and you had been pestering him for the better part of thirty minutes. While you had patience, you were no saint. This whole situation was starting to get on your last nerve.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you let out a sigh. “And I get that, but I’m looking for my husband. I know he’s in there, can’t you go get him for me and we can talk outside the venue?”

The doorman hummed, considering the option. Finally, he gave you the smallest of smiles, the first you had gotten from him the whole night. “That’s doable. What’s his name so I can send someone to fetch him?”

You chewed on your bottom lip. This wasn’t going to go well. How many people tried to sneak their way into events using your husband’s name? For all this man knew, you were another lovesick fan, trying to get a whiff of the hero of Alabasta’s cologne before you were escorted out by security.

Whatever. It wouldn’t hurt to try, you thought.

“Um. Crocodile?”

The doorman burst out laughing, head thrown back and tears spilling down his cheeks. “Listen, you’re a looker, but you’re not that good looking. Now scram, I have a job to do.”

With a deep breath, you tried again. “I’m serious, he’s my husband. Please let me in.”

“Yeah, and I’m the king. Don’t make me call security on you.”

If Crocodile found out that the doorman called security on you, the man’s job would be down the drain before he could say ‘sorry.’ You didn’t want that, even if in your current irritation, you’d feel quite a bit vindicated. It was people like him that kept your husband safe, even if he did so in a rather frustrating manner.

You shuffled your feet, blinking a few times at the man who laughed in your face. Okay, maybe you did want him fired, but you were better than that. Kinder than that.

There was a commotion coming from the casino. You peered behind the doorman to see your husband surrounded by a hoard of Alabastan citizens, all clamoring for his attention. Your heart swelled at the sight of him, relieved to find him safe and sound. As much as you wanted to give him a piece of your mind for worrying you so much, the doorman’s glare was starting to get to you. Now that you knew he was alive, you could wait a little bit longer for Crocodile to return home.

“Well, thank you for your time,” You said as politely as you could. Even then, the words came out forced between clenched teeth.

The doorman merely rolled his eyes in response. Right before you turned your back, you caught your husband’s gaze. Crocodile’s eyebrows shot up at the sight of you, surprise replacing his previous annoyance. Flashing him a small smile and a wave, you turned to make your way home. You barely made it a few steps before Crocodile’s hand was on your shoulder, his grip firm enough to hold you in place. The crowd that surrounded him was gone, off to find someone else to celebrate with — or pester, as Crocodile was prone to say.

“What are you doing here, doll?”

Whipping around, you slotted your hands on your hips and hit your husband with the worst glare you could muster. You tried not to be disappointed when all you were met with was a glimmer of amusement. “Looking for you. It’s been days since you’ve been home, I was starting to get worried.”

Crocodile shrugged and took an inhale of his cigar. “There was no need for you to come here, I was coming home tonight.”

“And how am I supposed to know that if you don’t tell me. I’m not a mind reader,” You shot back.

Crocodile sighed, a cloud of smoke accompanied the action. You really wished he would quit, but you weren’t naive enough to believe you could convince him. The doorman coughed a few times, drawing both you and your husband’s attention. He looked absolutely dumbfounded at the scene playing out in front of him. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, and you had hoped he had enough wherewithal to keep himself hidden so as not to earn your husband’s ire. Evidently not.

“I am so sorry,” The doorman started, hands numbly raised in surrender.

Wow. This man was the biggest idiot you had ever met. Crocodile slowly turned in his direction, a single eyebrow raised.

“You’re sorry?” Your husband's expression split into a furious glower, and for the first time that night, you felt truly sorry for the doorman. “And what are you apologizing for? I better like the answer.”

Before the man could speak, you placed yourself between them. “He was just doing his job, love. No need to get all fussy. Why don’t you walk me home and we can talk more? I’ve missed you.”

Crocodile’s expression softened when you grabbed his arm and leaned into his side. With his flesh hand, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you flush against him. Before you left, Crocodile reached around you and into his breast pocket. When he removed his hand, there was a wad of beri in it, a fatter stack than usual. He tossed it at the doorman’s feet.

“Forget what you saw here.” Crocodile narrowed his eyes, his hook glinting in the dull lamplight. “Or I’ll be seeing you again. Privately.”

“Don’t flirt with the poor man, he looks like he’s about to wet himself.”

Crocodile merely grumbled — affectionately, you knew that grumble anywhere — as he started in the direction of your shared home. “I don’t flirt and I don’t fuss, you know this, doll.”

“Bold of you to lie to my face when I’m still not sure if I’ve forgiven you yet.”

You had. It was hard to keep the grin off your face when Crocodile was warm against your side, the scent of him filling your nostrils until your head was fuzzy.

Oh, how you couldn’t wait to kiss him pliant in the comfort of your bed later tonight. For all of Crocodile’s power, you had him absolutely wrapped around your little finger.

[hard-core-super-star]

During an interview with Hailee, someone asks reader to marry them, and Hailee isn't too happy about it.

it it cool that i said all that? [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: hailee steinfeld x actress!reader

summary: doing interviews with your girlfriend is all fun and games until someone gets too comfortable with their questions.

warnings: none, just fluff; a speck of possessive hailee; two dashes of (not-so) secret relationship vibes; awkward interview moments that gave me second-hand embarrassment while writing

wordcount: 1.1k

a/n: does anyone else remember when comic-con was a big deal? yeah, me neither. so, instead of a convention-type vibe, i went the talk show route. [specifically stephen colbert because he's the only host i can honestly say i like] slowly but surely getting through all of my requests but the urge to write alpha!kate pt. 2 is starting to take over my life so...don't be surprised if i disappear for a few days and then post it out of the blue.

* * * * * * *

There are only a few things more nerve-wracking than having to sit in front of a room full of people and answer questions you’re definitely not prepared for despite all the time you’ve spent overthinking. The only thing that could possibly make that situation more anxiety-inducing is having to do it next to someone you’re dating…in secret.

It’s not a well-kept secret by any means but the lack of confirmation from both parties is more than enough to have fans from both sides analyzing every single comment that gets exchanged. You don’t really mind it, even though sometimes you feel like there’s a target on your face. 

A target in the form of looks you can’t hide and smiles you don’t share with anyone but Hailee.

Okay, so maybe you’re incredibly obvious about your feelings for her but it still took her until after you finished filming Hawkeye to realize the truth hiding beneath all your stupid jokes. It would be easy to make fun of her for being so oblivious if you weren’t exactly the same way.

It took more than a few tries but the two of you eventually gathered enough courage to be honest with each other leading to the start of quite possibly the most chaotic but most rewarding relationship you’ve ever had. Just because most people in your life haven’t caught up yet doesn’t make it any less amazing.

The thing no one prepared you for, though, is having to do talk show interviews while avoiding the topic of said relationship. It’s not like either of you is genuinely trying to hide the truth, it’s just easier to explore your developing feelings when there aren’t a ridiculous amount of eyes trained on the pair of you.

Eyes that sometimes don’t quite know how to read the room.

Which brings you back to your current situation.  You and Hailee are sitting slightly too close together while doing another interview where you have to dance around spoilers while trying to get people excited for Hawkeye.

It turns out, you don’t actually have to do much since seeing the two of you together seems to be more than enough to get people talking about the show.

“So, y/n, I know this is your first time doing an interview like this and I don’t want to scare you away so how about we get some questions from the audience?”

The crowd erupts into cheers and you can’t help but let out a nervous laugh even though you already knew this was going to happen. Being notified ahead of time still isn’t enough to stop you from worrying about what this segment will bring.

“What’s the worst that could happen right?” You joke, sharing a look with Hailee who merely shakes her head at you.

Of course, the list of “worst things that could happen” is quite long when it comes to people asking you whatever they want.

And right now, the way the brunette hasn’t let go of your hand since you sat down is definitely at the top of everyone’s list of questions. You’re sure no one is surprised by how affectionate she can be sometimes but it’s unusual to see her happily holding onto someone in a room like this one.

You swallow down your nervousness in order to focus on the questions that get thrown your way. Most of them are, in all honesty, softballs. Things like,”What was your favorite part about shooting Hawkeye?” and “Who’s the strongest Avenger?” 

You’re thankful for the easy questions until the humor your responses carry inspires some…bolder comments. Stephen lets everyone know the next question will be the last and the lucky fan who’s chosen takes her chance.

“Marry me?”

The easy atmosphere of the room leaves you completely unprepared for the question and the only real response you can offer at first is a laugh. A laugh that earns you a grin from the bold fan and a glare from your unamused girlfriend.

“Yeah, sure,” you reply with a shrug. “My manager will email you my schedule.”

Your response is just as unexpected as the question which just makes the audience laugh harder.

There’s a slightly smug look on your face that disappears the second you turn to look at Hailee.

She’s an actress, and a fantastic one at that, so she hides her emotions well. Unfortunately, you’re an expert at reading her and the lack of a smile on her face tells you all you need to know.

“Too bad you have a very busy schedule,” she says through a chuckle that sounds more forced than anything you’ve ever heard out of her.

“True, true. I’m a very responsible dogsitter and I don’t think Martini would be fine with me leaving her for so long.”

“Does she get jealous easily?” Stephen clearly picks up on you trying to change the topic but Hailee’s not done voicing her displeasure.

“Her owner does.” The words are a mere mumble but the microphone picks her up loud and clear.

Your eyes widen and her comment renders you utterly speechless. It’s not that the words are a complete surprise, you just can’t believe she actually said that in the middle of an interview.

She realizes what she said a few seconds later and her soft eyes meet yours. There’s a layer of nervousness in them that she can’t quite hide and the sight makes your heart clench. You can’t do much to reassure her though so you merely squeeze her hand three times and let the interview continue.

The minutes feel like hours but you eventually wrap up and are allowed to go back into your shared dressing room. Hailee all but drags you inside and you close the door behind you once you're in the safety and privacy of those four walls.

“I shouldn't have said that,” she blurts out, her hands emphasizing her words and the anxiety they carry. “I just, I don't know what came over me. It was stupid and I’m-”

“Lee.” You quickly cross the small space between you and grab onto her slightly shaky hands. “You don't have to apologize, everything’s fine.”

She blinks a few times but the action doesn't get rid of the genuine surprise that's etched onto her features. “You…You're serious?”

“Incredibly. I thought it was cute that you got jealous like that.”

Her usual playful energy comes back the instant she realizes you're not upset. And it very quickly becomes clear she's not actually upset either.

“Excuse me, I wasn't jealous. I just thought it was a lame question.”

“Mhmm, right.” You let go of her hands in order to wrap your arms around her waist and pull her close. “I'll make sure to remind you of that if I ever propose.”

She leans in to kiss you until her brain catches up to your joke. There's a hint of a pout on her lips that makes you chuckle.

“What do you mean if?”

You don't bother with replying and instead kiss her again, knowing your actions will be more than enough to soothe her worries.

[so-bitya]

Ciel would still be attempting to learn more about Derrick by getting closer to his house's prefect and their fag. Here's my thoughts how those scenarios would go:

Ciel goes to Violet Wolf

Ciel enters emo wolf school (rip)

He has to get closer with Violet and Cheslock (double rip)

One is even more introverted than him, and the other one bullies people he likes

either Ciel attempts to be Cheslock's fag (difficulty 5 stars) or he kicks him out of the school (lol) and becomes Violet's fag

which seems super difficult to pull off, since Violet is hard to butter up and already seems to be on Ciel's tail

tension would be so good though, between Ciel investigating Derrick in the house (can't seem to find him anywhere) and the purple students on edge with outsiders

horror house levels of fun

Ciel goes to Scarlet Fox

very lively cause Ciel gets way more involved with so many characters in this arc: Redmond, Maurice, Joanne, and Soma.

attempts to become Mauric's fag? immediately backfires in his face, since Maurice is worried he'll steal his spot.

yknow, way too easy if he does, let's make it so Soma helps reveal the bullying, Redmond finds out, decides Soma is the right fit for his fag instead cause of his judge of character, Ciel is flabbergasted

Ciel now has to be Soma's fag (rip rip destroyed explosion 💥💥💥)

i didnt put Green Lion cause i know they're gonna lose. also don't care. but i'll tell you what would happen if Ciel went there anyway

because Edward is there (secretly happy Ciel got into the same house) i would assume Edward would be willing to introduce him to the prefects.

and i think Edward would be more willing to take him as his fag once he proves himself worthy (he wants to be fair, but i think he likes to support Ciel when he can).

ironically the easiest route so far in getting closer to the P4?

Ciel hanging out with all those jocks at the house becomes a mob psycho 100 situation

he's gonna get bullied into having a better psyche and a healthy diet, he hates it (good for him 😔)

in the cricket tournament, Ciel doesn't have to do much so he just takes it easy

but because the whole house wants to support their little buddy, they keep trying to give him the spotlight, aka sport feats he's in no way capable of, so he's being tortured out there

actually lowkey this is the funniest scenario, i would vote for it. too bad :p

[dougielovelove]

THE STALKER

(998 words)

WARNINGS: Stalker!Soap, obsessive and toxic behavior, NSFW (at the end), Male reader, my writing. (let me know if I have to put more warnings)

(Something about it didn't leave me all that satisfied😒 but I liked it tho)

Beep Beep

You wake up in your room, as always, to the sound of your alarm clock. Your lazy eyes slowly scan the room, and, as you expected... It happened again. The window is half open, even though you were sure it was closed last night. It's a weird thing that's been happening a lot over the last few months, but you just let it go. Your memory has never been that good, and you forget some things quickly… and it's not like this is the strangest thing happening in your life right now.

Every time you go to do your laundry, you realize that another pair of underwear is missing. You don't have that many, so it's easy to notice when one disappears. And there's also another strange thing going on. Every time you go out, you feel watched. You always have the feeling that someone is watching you, but you don't know where.

But it all started to really scare you when you came home after a stressful day at work, and saw a photo of you, sleeping, thrown across your welcome mat.

Terrified, you decided to do the most sensible thing to do.

You call the only person you trust in this world.

You call Soap your best friend. Your ONLY friend. He's in the military, so he should know what to do.

It doesn't take long for him to arrive. You show him the photo, and he is as surprised as you are. You tell him about the things that have happened recently, and, with each piece of information, his eyes widen in surprise and concern. You're at your limit, and he can see that. Seeking comfort, you hug your good friend, snuggling into his arms as he rubs your back and whispers sweet nothings, telling you that everything is going to be okay, and that he will be there for you. Oh, if you could just see the little smile on his face.

After that day, more and more photos started to appear, and you became more and more scared. But you started to panic even more when you found a photo of you taking a shower. You tell Soap that you're going to take this to the police, but he changes your mind. ‘They are slow' he says. ‘Until they start investigating, something worse could happen’ he says. ‘Leave it to me’ he says.

And then, Soap offers to put Cameras in your entire house. Outside, in the bedrooms, in the living room, in the backyard, in the garage. You feel much safer this way, knowing that your best friend is taking care of you. But, oh, if you only knew about the hidden camera he put in your bathroom…

You also decided to give Soap a spare key to your house... just in case.

Jackpot.

-

Soap's plan is coming to fruition. After so many years, engineering everything precisely. He knew you very well, before he even exchanged a word with you. When you met him at a club, he seemed so friendly, and you had a lot in common. You both liked the same things, went to the same places. It was a very quick connection. But there was something much darker about it. He saw you one day in a coffee shop, and when he saw you, something in his fucked up brain clicked. You needed to be his. All his. He spent the next few months researching EVERYTHING about you. You were quite liked, you had a lot of friends and even a nice boyfriend. It would be difficult to come into your life, and he didn't want to get his hands dirty... I mean, he could carry out a massacre and still get away with it, but he didn't want to do that... that was plan B.

Instead, he went the plan A route, which turned out very well. He pretended to be a former friend of yours, and spread lies about you - with false evidence. This plan worked so well that in less than a month, your friends stopped talking to you, and your boyfriend dumped you.

Oh, poor you, without friends and boyfriend... you were so sad... Well, cycles begin and end! Why not go to this new club that just opened?

-

Soap feels like a child going to a park. He happily fits the spare key you gave him into the lock of your house, and with two turns and a click, the door opens. He patiently follows the familiar path to your room. It's not like he hasn't been there hundreds of times, but now he doesn't have to worry about not making noise. He opens the door to your room, and feels his heart leap with joy.

It's still 7:30 pm, and you're still at work… He has time for a quickie. He happily lays down on your perfectly made bed and takes your pillow, bringing it to his nose and drowning in your sweet scent. He lies down on top of your pillow, and quickly undoes his belt and opens his pants, releasing his rock hard cock from its confines. He starts to hump into your pillow, the smell of your perfume invading his brain, leaving him disoriented in pleasure. His cock rubs against your pillow, and he can't help but imagine you, there, in the place of the pillow, while he squeezes you really tight.

Soap is in paradise. His plan finally worked, and the next step will be to have you as his boyfriend, but that will be easy, after all: he's already come this far.

Soap moans your name, his eyes closed with vivid images of you. He feels closer and closer to his orgasm.

But, oh, it's a shame that you managed to leave work early today.

And it's even more of a shame that he didn't hear you arrive, and it's also a shame that he didn't notice you, at the bedroom door watching the scene.