#some of you might be mad about the ending

[woodchoc-magnum]

idk. i'm annoyed.

i realise i am a fandom old at this point

and i have seen some shit in this fandom; witnessed the discourse.

and i don't post meta or spec or much of that stuff; i usually put all my ideas into fics.

but guys seriously. seriously.

eddie's current arc is not about buck.

buck and eddie are not currently dating.

buck is eddie's best friend and vice versa.

eddie is not cheating on buck.

eddie is lying to buck by omission, yes, but that is not a friendship ending offence.

eddie is on the very cusp of cheating right now. he went on a date with another woman, yes. he has not kissed her or slept with her. we are at a tipping point. we do not know what is going to happen next.

he only went on a date with another woman because she reminded him of shannon, who he is not over, who he has spent seasons trying to replace.

the point of this show is that none of the characters are perfect - and especially not buck and eddie. they all make mistakes. they have all made mistakes and will continue to do so because in real life, people don't always make the right decisions 100% of the time.

this black-and-white, morally righteous way of thinking, like eddie is suddenly evil now because he's on the cusp of cheating; that it's going to end his friendship, that buck is going to be angry at him for lying - do you have friends in real life? like, i am genuinely asking.

because if my best friend suddenly started cheating on her husband, i wouldn't be mad at her - i would be worried. am i alone in this? like i would be genuinely concerned and trying to help figure out what's going on.

all the shit i'm seeing in the fandom today, all of the spec posts and commentary about the episode and what might potentially happen, just feels like, once again, an attempt to paint eddie as the villain in the story to prop up buck. let's make eddie so terrible that buck has to have custody of christopher, right?

clearly none of you understand how a will works. it's for after you're dead. not for when you're alive.

but the main issue is this - now that buck has tommy, the people who tolerated eddie can stop pretending to like him. there's another option for buck now, so you guys don't need eddie anymore. right? am i fucking right??

i love drama as much as the next person, but in what world would buck turn on eddie because of this? in what world would the 118 shun him? he is their friend! they love him! they care about him! they are a family!

my god, nobody shunned hen when she cheated on karen. nobody shuns bobby and he indirectly killed 140 people!

eddie is a good person who makes mistakes, just like every single other character on the show.

that is the fucking point.

and the way ryan was talking in the interviews - isolation could mean any number of things. we know eddie has a tendency to isolate himself when he's feeling stressed out - does anyone remember season 3? season 5? buck literally broke down his door!

i'm just fucking tired of this bullshit.

eddie's not a bad guy because of this. he has done shitty things, yes. they all have. that's the fucking point of the show, and if you can't understand that or appreciate adult story-telling, then fuck off and watch riverdale.

[teabutmakeitazure]

Dissimulation - Continued Again

>Yan! Mafia! Childe x Fem! Student! Reader (Modern au)

>Word Count: 9.2k

>a/n: word vomit. i love him sm and i love having him do mental gymnastics just to get the girl (to get laid) also I wrote this in numerous pieces and by the writing changes you can tell lol. copium during finals. can't believe it's almost been a whole year since this fic was first published. also, I've had the same injury described later on. it bled a lot i thought i was gonna die.

Warnings: firearms, hidden blood kink, licking (I will not elaborate) childe doesn't like pillows, read at your own discretion

Part 1 | Continuation | reason why Childe #1 husband

Childe is waiting in the car.

That’s the thought that keeps repeating in your head. Honestly, it’s your fault. You insisted he not come with you inside, even going as far as getting mad at him when he initially refused. It’s only fair that you suffer the consequences of your actions.

You can still feel the muzzle of the revolver despite the layer of cloth separating it from your spine. How do you know it’s a revolver? Well, the bastard spun it before pressing it to your lower back. You’ve played enough video games to know what that sound belongs to.

“Stop walking so slow. Move it.”

You internally scoff at his words. If you move any faster, it’ll just be more suspicious. Well, good for you. If it’s suspicious then there’s a higher chance someone might intervene. 

“To the right, right there.”

You do as he says. It’s not very tempting to disobey when there’s a loaded gun on your back. The man leads you down a small alleyway away from the hustle of the outdoor market. It’s dark, and there’s a pipe leaking somewhere. This is when dread really settles in, but you put on a brave face despite your trembling lip.

You hear the man click his tongue before ordering you to stop walking. The muzzle is still pressed to your spine, and he pulls out his phone with his free hand to call someone. “I got the girl here, so now you do your part.” Someone speaks on the other side, angering him. “You’re being delusional! This is the perfect chance,” he whisper-yells. “I got the girl here, so if things go bad, I shoot. We’ll at least do some damage.”

Shoot…? What the fuck did you get yourself into?

“The next time you call me back, it better be because the bastard’s dead or he’s given up.” With that, he angrily hangs up and shoves the phone in his pocket. You’re left facing the dead end of the alleyway, your captor behind you with his back to the only exit and entrance. “So,” he starts, “where did you first meet him?”

You decide to test the waters. From what you gathered so far, you are valuable until the other guy fails in what he’s supposed to do (which you have no clue of). “Me?” You feign innocence. “Meet who?”

He presses the muzzle even harder into you, making you stumble a step forward. “Don’t play dumb with me. Even if I kill you right now, it won’t affect anything. So tell me, where did you first meet him?”

You gulp nervously, heart beating in your throat. “T-the convenience store. It was a random occurrence.”

“And you knew who he was?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Hah. Stupid girl. Do you not know you’re the one usually targeted when he makes enemies? That you’re the face that comes up when he pisses someone off?”

Gaze dropping to the ground, you can’t help but think of all the kind things he’s done for you so far as you answer. “I had no choice.”

He clicks his tongue. “What, so he forced you to be his girlfriend?”

“I’m not his girlfriend…”

“So you’re just a pretty lady he keeps around?” Amusement is evident in his tone. He’s messing with you before he kills you. “Considering how expensive it was to find out about you, you’re damn special. If there’s one thing I know about Tartaglia, it’s that he’s not the type to keep a girl around for nothing or just her body. And that’s precisely why you’re in this situation.”

If you’re going to die anyway, you might as well say it. Ah, sorry mama. Couldn’t help it. “You think I’m pretty?”

Surprisingly, he takes it well. “I won’t deny you have a pretty face. I can see why he’d go to lengths to keep you a secret, but nothing can be hidden forever. Don’t worry. I won’t hurt your face when I kill you.”

Great. Now there’s stinging behind your eyes. This really is it. Maybe you should’ve told your parents you love them last night. Shit, is this really the end? So much for wanting to buy a birthday present from the market. Now you won’t live to see your next birthday.

The man groans out of annoyance, hand diving into his pocket to fish out his phone. “How long is he going to take…” You can hear him aggressively tapping at the device, and you wait for him to start whisper-yelling on the phone again but all that comes is the muzzle being removed from your back as something loudly whizzes through the air, and he lets out a silent cry of pain.

Something behind you falls to the ground with a thud, and judging how his voice seems to come from elsewhere, he’s the one who fell. “No, don’t come closer. I’ll shoot! I swear I will!”

You stay still, unknowing of what’s going on. Panic overtakes your senses, and your hands start trembling as you start feeling sick. Your body is going into fight or flight, and you really want it to choose flight. As you bring your trembling hands up into your view, a familiar voice calls out from behind.

“[Name], darling. Stay as you are. Don’t turn around.”

You freeze at Childe's words, immediately pressing your palms to your ears to block out some sound only to end up making it slightly muffled. The man is spewing profanities at him, trying to get on his nerves. “You scared of your toy dying? Is that why you’re here? Or maybe you were scared we’d take your little toy away from you? Do all the things to her you do but worse?”

Footsteps lightly grow closer, likely stopping by the man writhing on the ground, clutching his leg. Something clatters to the side, presumably the revolver he may have been pointing at Childe. When Childe speaks, his voice is laced with venom. “The girl is mine.” The man grunts, and Childe continues. “You have no idea how badly you’ve set me off. You better start praying to whatever you believe in.”

You cringe when you hear Childe kick him, heart beating even faster than before. Nausea tugs at you, making your eyes lose focus as you resist the urge to throw up or fall to your knees. Hands are still pressed to your ears when a body comes to stand behind you, yet it’s when arms wrap around you that you horribly flinch and move to elbow whoever it is, hyperventilating as you struggle to be freed.

However, Childe’s voice whispers in your ear, instantly making you relax. “It’s me.”

You are way too panicked to say anything useful. “Yes. Alright. It’s you. Not anyone else. Okay. Okay.”

One of his hands moves to cover your eyes, and he instructs you to keep them closed as he leads you out. The other hand is on your shoulder, and when you are away from the alley, he uncovers your eyes. Childe leads you to the market, stopping when you both enter its busy environment. He pulls out his phone, presses it to his ear without even dialling or accepting any call and hastily spews out the location of where you were earlier, firmly telling whoever it is on the other side to ‘deal with it’.

Nausea still stirs inside you, making you sick. You can feel the ghost of the muzzle pressing against you, and although you weren’t so horrified by it when it was actually happening, you are now.

Once again, Childe’s attention is back on you. His eyes focus on you solely, forgetting the busy environment around him and forgetting the issue he was addressing on the phone. He looks… concerned. Like a mother hovering over her child, he grabs your face with both hands, turning it side to side and carefully eyeing your features. He then pulls you into a hug, but you are too busy hearing your heartbeat in your ears to reciprocate and simply hide your face in his jacket instead.

“I’m so relieved,” he whispers. “Did he say anything to you? Hurt you? Touch you?”

After a shaky inhale, you focus your gaze on a random light source, willing away the sickness in your stomach. “No. Just a gun to my back. That’s it.”

“I am so sorry.”

Unfortunately, the nausea does not relent. “It’s fine.”

He holds you tighter. “It’s not fine. You were in danger.”

Though his warmth is comforting, you cannot move to hold him back. You can taste bile in your mouth, and you start profusely swallowing, yet Childe continues voicing his regrets. “I should have come with you. I shouldn’t have listened to you-”

Your voice shakes when you interject, the fear of what else might go wrong in public. “Quiet, please. I’ll throw up.” Your request is met with him gently rubbing your back, ignoring any glances from onlookers. When he feels that you are somewhat calm, you are led back to the car, the air conditioning turned on and your seat reclined as you cover your eyes with your forearm.

You don’t know why you feel sick and you don’t know why you keep thinking of a bleeding wound, infected and deep enough to show muscle and sinew. Worst of all, you don’t know what you should do now. Should you just ask to go home? Should you go back in? Get what you came here for?

Maybe you’ll come back later, with Childe. There’s still some time in your friend’s birthday and you can get her something later or make something instead. Yeah. That sounds right.

“Feeling any better?”

Your companion’s question makes you grumble. There are so many things that go wrong these days. Your relationship with him seems to loom over you like a raincloud wherever you go. Always accompanying you like a blight on your existence. It also does not help that information about you had initially come to light because he bought the house you both currently live in a week before you made that deal with him.

You still remember that conversation in great detail. When you had finally got to the airport, what waited for you when you came back haunted you throughout the journey. This arrangement isn’t something you were looking forward to. Remaining a student on a tight budget who eats instant ramen half the time for dinner would have been more preferable.

“Is there any way I can help? Do you need anything?” Childe voices more questions, but this time you don’t feel annoyed at him. If anything, you should be thankful. Sure, that occurred because of him, but he did save you.

Hand reaching to set the seat upright, you mentally go over the words you want to say. Now facing him, Childe gives you a curious look before you speak, the edges of your lips already stuck together. “I’m sorry.” He looks taken aback, but you continue. “I’ll… I’ll listen to you next time. And thank you for saving me. I had already said my prayers and apologised to my parents in my head, so thank you for letting that go to waste. I would rather it not be useful.”

Childe blinks. With a chuckle, he smiles, giving you that typical lovestruck expression he has when you do something he finds endearing. “And I personally wouldn’t know how to break it to your parents. Not after your mom asked me to look out for you.” The reminder leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, yet Childe still has something to say. “Of course. You don’t ever need to thank me. As long as you’re mine, alive and healthy, I don’t need anything else.”

The confession makes your eyes widen, and when you open your mouth to question his words, he cuts you off. “Do you want to get what you came here for or do you want to go home?”

“Home,” you reply immediately.

He nods, a hand reaching over to grab your seat belt. The action makes your heart skip a beat - “out of surprise,” you tell yourself - yet Childe does not mind. He fastens his own seat belt after yours and promptly moves to reverse the car out of the parking lot.

It is halfway through the way that you voice your thoughts, and Childe seems to hesitate.

“We have snacks at home,” he says.

Him and his healthy habits be damned. “You mean fruits. I don’t want fruits.”

“They’re healthy. You need nourishment.”

“What am I? A plant?”

Childe holds in a laugh with an awkward cough, a smile still there. “No, but you are a very dear person. I’ll cut some apples into bunny shapes, and we can eat the oranges I got yesterday. I’ll peel them for you, like always.”

Unfortunately for him, you do not yield, even going as far as to use his name since it usually makes him more submissive. “Ajax, I almost died tonight. I would like to be able to binge eat a bag of chips as I ease my worries.”

He negotiates again, albeit weakly. “Darling, you have a habit of stress eating. I know you can’t help it, but I just want to make sure you’re at least eating things that are good for you.”

“A bag of chips just this once wouldn’t hurt.”

You can see the gears turning in his head, and with a sigh, he concedes. “Fine. But only because you want to and have been eating well without complaints these past few weeks.”

The words seem like a parent pointing out a child on their diet, gentle yet still delivering the message. Despite everything, you would never admit that ever since he started butting into what you eat, your skin doesn’t break out as much and you’re almost always hydrated. He doesn’t need to hear the positive effects his presence has on your life from your own mouth. And he sure as hell doesn’t need to know that his hydration checks throughout the day are the reason why you drink water.

-

Yesterday, Chil- Ajax asked you something you could not say no to. 

You keep justifying your acceptance with it being a sort of payback for him saving your life the other day even though you know you’re scared of saying no to him. Or maybe you just wanted to repay his kindness. It’s not like you asked for his kindness, but he is giving it to you. Goodness, the way he looks at you sometimes when you talk is just… if you didn’t know any better, you’d describe it as creepy.

But it isn’t. It isn’t creepy because the amount of genuine love in his eyes is just ridiculous. How can someone look at a person with so much love knowing they don’t reciprocate to that intensity? How can they be okay with that? You know Ajax is absolutely, positively in love with you. There’s no doubt about it.

You know so much about his family, and he’s always finding an excuse to talk to you. He asks you to talk to him because he likes your voice, and he sometimes stays in the room while you talk to your parents because he wants to see you be carefree in conversation.

He always gets you what you want without you knowing. Heck, he even gave you a credit card linked to his account! You don’t use it, but he gave it to you.

Back to the topic. You’re going out for dinner with him tonight as a date. You both leave at 7: 15 pm on the dot, and it is currently 6. You are freaking out currently too because what did you willingly agree to?

You know that bastard has been locked away in his room for over an hour now. You know he was giddy ever since he got home way too early today because of your evening plans. He’s way too obvious. And desperate. He’s also getting desperate.

There haven't been any romantic advancements in your relationship. You’ve just fallen into a casual routine at this point, and you aren’t bothered when he is there on your bed at any time you turn to look at it, even if you left the door closed. He cooks for you most of the time, and sometimes you mend his clothes so that he doesn’t buy new ones while completely ignoring the magical appearance of a shit load of sewing materials after the first time you did it.

It’s all gotten normal at this point. Seeing his credit card in your wallet every single time you open it, having to look at his mask sitting on a side table in the living room, watching him remove the dual pistols strapped to his body when he gets home, and much more. It’s all normal now. You’re used to it.

Yet your nerves are about to burst because you’re going out for dinner with him in an hour.

Honestly, after the dinner where he licked blood off your finger, you haven’t gone out for food with him since. You mostly eat at home, but the most you guys have done is takeout.

Anyway, what do you do? You don’t want to try hard lest unforeseen and unwanted developments occur, yet you also don’t want to not try at all because it might sour his mood. The latter is unpreferable simply because you can’t bear to see him sad. Maybe you’ll put in a little effort. Not too much but a little.

Had Ajax not been in the mafia, you would have already accepted him. You know you’re delaying the inevitable, that he will get what he wants, but you still can’t help it. Your conscience weighs you down. His identity ties you close to hesitance and denial.

Nevertheless, here you are, a cream coloured maxi skirt flowing till your ankles and a dusty pink blouse with bishop sleeves. You can’t believe you actually wore this. Ajax was the one who gifted the blouse to you, saying something like the colour being nice and wanting to see you wear it.

Well. He’ll get his wish now. 

After at least five consecutive minutes of staring into the mirror, you finally decide to put on some makeup. Nothing too much. A simple mascara, blush, and lipstick after whatever you ended up putting on your skin first.

Great! Now, shoes. Shoes…

You fish out a pair of nude sandals with a pointed tip and a one inch heel. Perfect. Seems like your mother giving you her old sandals came in handy. After checking if they fit, you take a look at the clock. There’s still twenty minutes till the clock strikes 7.

Twenty minutes of agony as nerves eat you from the inside.

Right at 7:02 pm, there’s a knock on your bedroom door. Shaking hands unlock the door, opening it to nervously meet eyes with your lovely housemate. He stands on the other side, hair parted in the middle as best it could be. One side is tucked behind his ear while the other hangs on his face, framing his jawline perfectly.

You take note of the black dress shirt and black pants. The sleeves are rolled up and his earring is still there. Also, why is his shirt so fitted? You know he’s ripped. He doesn’t have to rub it in.

“You wore the shirt,” he breathes out.

“It’s a blouse,” you correct.

“Beautiful.”

The way his eyes seem to look you over in awe makes your cheeks heat up. With an awkward clear of your throat, you snap his attention back to your face. “Didn’t you say you made a reservation?”

Ajax perks up at that. “Right! We should leave soon.”

You are then left to grab your bag and sandals while he goes to fish out his car keys and wallet. When you’re seated in the living room, trying to fasten the little buckle on the sandals, Ajax is wistfully staring at you from the kitchen, cheek resting in his palm.

“We would make a cute couple.” A sigh and he looks at your feet, silently wishing you’d ask for his help with it instead. “Do you… need help with that?”

To his not so very surprise, you brush him off. “I’m fine.”

“Huh.” He asks again. “Are you sure?”

“Yup.”

He still wishes you would ask for his help instead. Do you not realise that he would do anything you asked him to? He would willingly get on his knees for you, hands gingerly trailing up your legs before he decides to rest one on his shoulder, the other pulling him towards you as his hand travels upwards and-

“Ajax? It’s almost 7: 15.”

He snaps out of his thoughts instantly. You’re standing near the door now, head tilted in that cute way he adores as you curiously look at him. A hand quickly flicks the kitchen light off as he walks towards the door. This is going to be another test of his patience. He knows it. He just hopes you don’t blame him for anything he might end up doing tonight.

-

“I don’t get it.”

Childe looks at you curiously only to find you glaring at the open menu. “I don’t know what to get,” you say. “Can you order for me? Whatever you think is good here. You know the stuff I like and don’t like, so I trust you.”

The explicit trust makes him smile. As per your request, Childe orders for you, but it’s something different than his own so that you can try both things. If you like the food, he might even take you out more often. Eating out once in a while shouldn’t hurt. Not if he’s with you.

As he leans back in his seat, he finds you playing with the buttons on your sleeve. Childe hastily utilises the opportunity to scan the indoors, eyes quickly flitting over every single person present. None have noticed either of you, and none seem to be looking at you. Good.

A quiet ding sounds from your phone, the screen turning on for a few moments. You reach for it instantly, but Childe is quicker, his hand covering the device before you could grab it. You obviously look nervous because of the action, but he gives you a small smile.

“No phone while we’re out eating.” The expression on your face doesn’t change, so he adds in something else. “Please?”

You capitulate instantly, and he pulls the device closer to himself with a playful smile. He now has all your attention for this evening dinner. If Childe plays his cards right, he could monopolise this opportunity and possibly convince you more to actually go out with him. Or let him put a ring on your finger. Whichever you’d prefer.

But first…

“I wish we could’ve stayed home instead,” he sighs.

You raise a brow at his expression, simultaneously wondering why he’s looking at you so wistfully here of all places. “Why? Didn’t you want to go out for dinner? You were looking forward to this.”

“Yes but-” He bites his lip for a moment. He isn’t lying. He’s being completely honest, but it still feels a bit weird to be admitting it directly to you. “But… you look so pretty and I don’t like knowing that other people can see you when you look so beautiful.”

It’s the truth. He doesn’t like knowing that anyone and everyone here has access to your existence. That they can simply turn their head and look at you in that skirt. He doesn’t care if it’s till your ankles. You look absolutely enchanting. Childe hates it that anyone can see your collar bones and your curious expression and the way you’re tilting your head at him and the way you’ve started fidgeting with your sleeve already.

All these lovely things about you are supposed to be for him only.

But they aren’t.

And he hates that.

“Hey. Eyes up here.”

He didn’t realise he started staring at your collar bones. God, he hopes you don’t think he was staring at your chest.

“Now that you’re looking into my eyes,” you groan, “I want you to calm down.” Almost instinctively, Childe crosses his arms out of displeasure, but you are quick to cool him down. “No one is looking at me. Nothing even happened and you’re acting all jealous. Calm down.”

“I’m not acting.”

“Then stop overreacting.”

“I am definitely not overreacting.”

You give him a look, the one you usually give him when you know he is keeping something from you, but you would rather not put the effort into digging it out of him. “Right.”

Childe is quick to defend, to put out the bait in hopes you’ll take it. “Sweetheart, you’re beautiful. Of course I’m going to be pressed if other people look at you and think the same.”

You sigh. “We’re only out for dinner.”

“Yes, but I just… I don’t know.” He traces the handle of the cutlery on the table, all the while ignoring how you’re still fidgeting with your sleeves. He’s making you nervous. He shouldn’t be making you nervous.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to burden you with my feelings.” Though you look like you want to say something, Childe beats you to it. “I love you, and I hope you know that I mean that word when I say it. I’m not afraid of saying the bigger word. I never will be.”

Both your hands have disappeared under the table. From the looks of it, you’re clenching them. How nervous are you? But wait. If he helps, if he shows you he can take care of you, then you might just…

Childe gently calls out your name, and you look at him with wide, innocent eyes. Poor thing. He asks you to show him your hands, and you comply. What you do not see coming is him gently grabbing the two before bringing them to cup his face. Childe especially presses the cold fingertips to his warm cheeks, effectively warming them up.

He’s thankful for reserving this relatively small table tucked away in a corner. No one can see your widened eyes and the look of adorable surprise on your face. No one.

Upon receiving no explicit refusal from your end, Childe grows bolder. The palms cupping his cheeks are each delivered a gentle kiss, and when there is no rejection, he moves lower, lips trailing to your wrists. This is when he feels the tug, the panic in the withdrawal. Your left wrist is in his mercy, soft lips tenderly pressed against your pulse, yet you tug your arm in retreat like a wounded animal.

Though it pains him, Childe lets go but only after making eye contact with you for a moment.

The face you give him is akin to one of a mixture of surprise and betrayal, and it dawns on him. This is the first time he’s touched you like this. Childe thinks he may have mixed his fantasies with reality because he did not ask for your permission for doing so. Now that he thinks about it, for a moment, he returns to the dreams and thoughts where he touches you as he pleases, and where you ask him to touch you. Where you climb onto his lap at random times of day and tell him how you are only his. How you want nothing to do with the rest of the world because he is your everything.

The only thing he wants is for those fantasies to become reality. Is that too much to ask for? Is it too selfish for him to ask that of someone so beautiful, so… heavenly?

Despite the shock on your face, you do not verbally express your thoughts. The silence is deafening. Your hands are clutched to your chest, and as the noise of the background fades into nothing but a quiet and continuous rumble, Childe’s thoughts start wandering. The first thing he wonders about is where he has to keep his eyes from straying. Your hands and your chest.

He can’t stop feeling the softness of your skin under his calloused palms. How your pulse felt under his lips. How it might taste if it bled. How warm the red might be. How red it might be.

Childe feels dirty for those thoughts, but he doesn’t care. He would gladly embrace such farcicalities if it meant you being the centre of his attention, your entire being on his mind more than his own existence. Then again, you are his life, no? Then why should he stop himself from thinking about you? Is it not wrong for a believer to not think about their worshipped deity? Likewise, it is wrong of him to forcibly shut your existence out of his wandering and lost thoughts.

Besides, the thought of you is where all his unruly and chaotic thoughts come together and finally make sense. So why should he not look at you like you were made from a piece of his ribs, fragile and the closest to his heart than anything can ever be?

“Ajax,” the name tumbles out of your mouth, and Childe feels like he can hear again. “Please stop staring like that. It’s getting creepy.”

An apology is quickly on his tongue, but you are quick to cut his words off before they can be uttered. “You’re acting a little weird.” He notices the worry on your face and the hands under the table. Childe thinks he doesn’t deserve you, but he’s selfish. Horridly so. “Are you feeling okay? We could go home right after eating if you’re not feeling too good, Ajax.”

You’re soothing him. Like how an owner soothes an unruly pet, you’re soothing him. How indulgent of you. Well, as long as you are thinking of him, he doesn’t mind playing like he’s putting the muzzle back on. You were never the one holding the leash anyway.

“I’m fine,” he replies. “Sorry. I just lost myself for a minute there. Were you saying something earlier?”

“Ah. No. Just… I was just asking if you were okay. I wasn’t saying anything earlier. Before that, I mean.”

Though tension has risen and it clearly shows in how your shoulders have stiffened, Childe cannot bring himself to mind. As long as your eyes are on him and him only, and as long as your voice graces his ears with his name, he won’t mind the discomfort in your countenance. It’s only a matter of time before you completely set aside denial.

-

It was halfway through dinner that you confessed telling your parents you’ll be home late tonight. This gave birth to an opportunity, and being the man that he is, Childe grabbed onto it like a desperate man. Questions were hushed and trust was exploited as Childe did what he could, what he wanted to do for so long.

The evening sea breeze never felt so good as it does now.

He stands with his arms resting on the railing, yet it feels different this time. It feels less lonely, more fulfilling, even if you both are in a secluded corner of the pier.

The lights from the opposite end of land reflects onto the water, and the smell of salt is in the air. Wind directly hits his face, hair flying back with it, but he’ll deal with the aftermath of it later. Right now, he’s waiting for you to be done with setting your hair so that he can talk to you.

You take a few more minutes to ensure hair doesn’t blow into your mouth or his face before joining his side, albeit at a distance large enough to fit another person which he promptly shamelessly closes. Yet when he turns to look at you, he is met with a raised brow.

“What?”

You’re quick to voice your observation, Childe’s eyes briefly focusing on the half-faded lipstick as he gives you his full attention. “Your hairline is a little uneven.” The sentence makes him chuckle, but you have more to add. “I didn’t think it’d be like that. It’s cute.”

“You’ve seen my forehead plenty of times.”

“I haven’t.”

He tilts his head. “Whenever I get out of the shower, my hair is slicked back. You’ve seen me get out of the shower.”

“Well,” you scrunch up your nose, “you’re shirtless and with only a towel. Why would I look at you then?”

“...” So all the times Childe has purposely walked by you in the living room or dropped off fruit when you’re studying while being fresh out of the shower was in vain. Why is he even surprised? Of course you wouldn’t look. It was daft of him to even consider that you would look. You avoid him like the plague whenever he tries to make a move. That does beg a question. Why have you been surprisingly cooperative tonight?

Are you planning something?

It can’t be. He keeps an eye on you. You go nowhere except class, occasional outings with friends, and shopping. Childe knows where you are at all times and with who and for what, with being the one taking you there. He even had you join that group project meeting online instead of in-person because it was in the evening and your group mates were all guys.

Considering those factors, there is no way you are planning something. He’s made sure of it. Besides, you are perfectly aware that you cannot try anything. Not only do you live with him, but he’s in the mafia. Were you to be missing or run away, you’d be back home before midnight.

There has to be another reason. Maybe you’ve grown more comfortable with him. Yes. That’s it. Perhaps it’s the delusion accompanying the compunction of all that he has done to you, but he believes you’re slowly laying down your defences. All that’s done is to wait till the wall is broken down too.

“Ajax,” you call, lips parting hypnotizingly, lipstick making them stick to the corners, “you’re staring again.” A pause, then you point something out. “You’ve been staring a lot tonight.”

He smiles, face resting on top of his arms crossed over the railing. “I can’t help it. You’re just so pretty.” You make a weird noise at that, but he chuckles. “I’m honoured to be breathing the same air as you. To be so close to you and see you with my own two eyes. I could never have said I’ve seen the world’s beauty before I saw you sitting behind that cash register in the store.”

You seem clearly taken aback at the sudden words. To be honest, Childe is too. He didn’t expect to say all that together. Still, if it conveys even a fraction of the intensity of his emotions, he’d say more.

A strand of hair falls into his eye when the wind calms, and he tries to blink it away. It’s disturbing his view of you. The way you’re looking at him as you think over your words feeds his proprietorial nature, for your words are all his to hear and your being all his to keep. Childe would keep you even if it means he has to hide you from the rest of the world lest you slip from his grasp. 

Yet you are so good to him that he always melts at your unexpected surrenders. The time when you sewed up his shirt when he got a long, narrow cut at his side. The time when you made dinner and left some for him before going to bed when he texted you he’ll be home very late. The time you willingly came to him with your worries and let him console you.

And the way you remove the strand of hair that’s in his eye and allow him to look at you without obstructions.

If he could, he’d merge your beings into one so that no one else could ever have you, and you’d be his forever. He isn’t willing to break you to have you, but he is willing to hurt you just a little bit.

But before all that, he needs to figure out a way to make you all his. If it means putting a ring on your finger or faking your death or hiding you away from the world, he doesn’t care. You have to be all his.

From your body to your soul to your thoughts to your feelings to your touch to your very being. All. His.

“Ajax, you’re staring again.”

He stands up straight at that, one hand still grabbing the railing as he takes a step closer to you. This time, he does not smile. “Why don’t you love me?”

You question his sudden change in demeanour, but he presses further. “Why don’t you love me? What’s wrong? Tell me. I’ll fix it. I’ll fix us. Tell me how I can make you love me.”

Childe moves closer, and you instinctively move back, making him frown, but he soon cages you between the railing and his body. There’s not much space between you both, and you’re certain he would be able to hear your heart beat wildly if he moved just a tad bit closer. Nevermind the fact that your skirt is blowing with the wind and his legs are obstructing its path.

“I’m doing everything I know. Just tell me. All I want is your heart. All I want is you.”

You are quick to defend. “I already live with you. What more is there?”

“You,” he replies, breathless. “You don’t love me. You only live with me.”

“Because agreeing to that is why you let me go back home for the summer,” you remind him. “Well, I suppose either way I would have been here. If I said no, you would’ve taken me there earlier.”

“Do you feel trapped?”

“What do you think?”

Childe chuckles at that. Though he is culpable for this predicament, he also holds the power to change it to his favour. “Tell me then,” he whispers, wind once more blowing in his hair, “what do you want?”

Unfortunately for him, you play his game on equal footing. “Would you grant it?”

“No.” The look in your eyes is something smug, but he humours you anyway. “I can’t guarantee I won’t, but I guess it depends on what you ask me.”

A scoff accompanies your words now, the nervousness apparent in the way you grip the railing behind you for dear life. “You’ve told me numerous times you’d give me anything I want. Why are you so hesitant now?”

“Because I know what you are about to ask, and I’m afraid I can’t give you that.”

“And what am I about to ask?”

“To be able to leave me for good,” he spits out.

You simply shake your head. “No. Not at this moment at least.” Confusion laces his features, but you press your body impossibly closer to the railing. “I wanted to ask for some space. It’s… it’s uncomfortable like this. Please take a step back.”

Childe obliges instantly. Blue eyes watch your once white knuckles have colour return to them, and suddenly he feels a little childish for cornering you like that. A quiet sigh from your end steals his attention, yet he remains standing where he is, another demand on the tip of his tongue.

“Move in with me,” he says. “Move into my room. It’s been too long in the guest room already. You don’t need to stay there anymore.”

Frankly, you’re surprised. You thought he forgot about that by now considering that he never brought it up again.

“You’ve seen it. My room is bigger. I got this place because the master bedroom was big and it’ll easily fit both our things. You can make the guest room your study room if you want, but just move in already.”

He gives you that look again, the demanding one that makes you painfully aware of how dull and lifeless his eyes are. Although you have grown used to it and it doesn’t bother you as much, it still reminds you that if he wished, he could have done worse things to you. But he hasn’t. He waits and waits and waits till he’s about to bubble over. Till his feelings threaten to boil and spill out of the pot and even then he somehow calms it down enough to be coherent. Al because he promised to think about you before his own selfish feelings.

“We can start tomorrow,” Childe suggests, “or even tonight, there’s still time. You’ve been living with me for long enough. It’s time you actually moved in.”

Even while you are quiet, Childe has a million thoughts running through his head. Bed, lonely, empty, cold sheets, cold pillows, empty dressing table, empty nightstand. He recalls the room you’ve turned into your personal haven, the cluttered dressing table, the nightstand with a ton of wires, the eraser dust that’s almost always on the ground near your table, and the warm feeling that envelopes him whenever he enters this little haven of yours.

He needs to have you more or else he doesn’t know what he’d do. And he doesn’t want to know what he’d do to you.

“I hear you,” you speak up, successfully interjecting his thoughts, “but we’re not in a relationship. We can’t just start doing married couple things.” You make a face, scrunching up your nose like you always do. “Living in different rooms is appropriate because we’re still-”

“Marry me then.”

You shut your mouth immediately.

“Your problem is our relationship right?” Childe takes a step closer, eyes focused on yours. “Then marry me. Problem solved.”

“Wait. Ajax, that’s too fast. Calm down.”

“That’s not ‘too fast’. We’ve been living together for almost a year now. We’ve known each other for over a whole year. This isn’t fast.”

Regardless, you try to de-escalate it. De-escalate his rashness. “Okay. I understand. But we’re too young and my parents wouldn’t allow something like this so suddenly-”

“Leave them to me. I’ll handle getting their approval. They seem to like me anyway. That’s all you’re worried about right? And we’re not young. We’re adults.”

The apprehension grows. You do not know how this idea popped into his head, but you blame yourself for mentioning ‘married couple’ earlier. Why is he so obsessed? Is having you in his home constantly under his vision not sufficient?

“So what’s your answer? Or do you want to wait while I get a ring and you speak to your parents?”

The anxiety starts eating you from the inside. You know you can’t escape him. You’re too deep into his clutches to even consider escape, but you still hold onto feeble hope that you can delay the inevitable just a little longer. “Fine. You’re ready and okay for such a thing, but I’m not ready for such a big step.”

Contrary to your expectations, Childe’s mood further sours. “That’s what you always say.” As soon as the words are uttered, Childe remembers thinking to himself how he hoped you won’t blame him for anything he might end up doing tonight. Well. If it allows him to have you, he’d do anything. “The only difference would be that we’d be closer. Nothing else.”

“We’re close enough,” you meekly comment.

“So you don’t want to marry me?”

“No, it’s not that I don’t, but…”

“But?”

You think over the time you’ve lived under his roof. He has been controlling, sure, but he has been more accommodating and understanding. If you were to bet your life on one thing, it would be that Ajax would always unequivocally love and care for you. Besides, this is inevitable. The moment he locked eyes with you at your job, it had been decided that this would happen. That you would be his.

Delaying and denying all this simply makes you miserable. Who are you to deny such affection? Such love that suffocates you, surrounds you constantly with eyes in the shadows watching your every breath. Who are you to deny a man who has countless times told and showed you that he’d drop to his knees for you on a moment’s notice?

He may control your life and future, but you control him as well. Or you do to an extent at least. What his words cannot express, his hands and eyes do, and those things are precisely what have kept you going on the hope that the inevitable is not as horrifying as you delude yourself into thinking of it.

Ajax loves you, and you’d be damned if you refuse his love. Not only is there no way out, but you think you do not want out anymore. You’re too deep in his web.

Besides, you know that if you were to refuse him, he’d try again and again before eventually forcing it upon you. It’s better to accept. You can’t delay the inevitable.

Warm hands cup your face, thumbs rubbing the corners of your eyes. “Don’t cry,” he whispers, and you blink away tears you did not know you were shedding.

Minutes pass on the secluded corner of the pier, and when he is satisfied with how much you have calmed down, he lets you go. Hands hang by his sides as he waits for an answer, but you don’t keep him waiting. With a gentle pat to his cheek, you give him your answer.

“I’ll start moving my things in the morning.”

His celebratory smile only grows when you continue speaking.

“And… I’ll start talking to my parents. I’ll let you know the updates.”

-

You were in the middle of organising your things when the realisation dawned on you. You’re moving into his room. All of your things will go there. All of your things. Does this mean you both are officially in a relationship? That means he’s going to wake up next to you, go to sleep next to you, and you’re going to share a wardrobe with him. Even a bathroom.

This might just make his possessive nature worse. But it’s alright. You can talk sense into him. He usually does listen to you.

Nevertheless, you can’t help but wonder… Why are you accepting of this? Somehow the idea of being so close doesn’t bother you as much as you think it should. Do you really like him that way? Are you in denial?

Ajax’s voice calls out to you, asking if you need any help. You’re currently in the middle of going through your clothes, and you would rather he not bear witness to seeing your undergarments and clothes thrown haphazardly across the bed. Thus, you tell him no and continue organising, putting home clothes separate and classifying the rest accordingly.

When those are done, you let the piles be on the bed and move to your dressing table. Expired and empty containers are chucked into the bin, and you grab the rest and move outside, passing by a curious Ajax in the living room and making yourself home in his room. The bottles are carefully placed amongst his things, and soon the dressing table looks cluttered.

Well, to be used is to be messy. It’s okay.

You return to the piles of clothes and transport each pile one by one onto his bed. When all have been gathered, you place them in the space he’s apparently kept empty for you ever since he moved here in an orderly fashion, making sure all your undergarments are in the locked drawer instead of the regular one. There are no fingers or accusations pointed, but there is also no complete trust in this matter.

Ajax trails behind you this time, curiously watching you take your toiletries and place them in his bathroom. He eyes the addition of a new shampoo and conditioner and other bottles he doesn’t care to classify but is happy to simply see them there. You make the journey back to your ex-room and gather all your chargers and wires only to find yourself untangling them first.

“Do you need help?”

You’re quick to refuse, but he still stands there watching. Gathering them all in your hands, Ajax is tempted to offer his help again but closes his mouth when he remembers you telling him to “not butt in” while you move your things. So, he watches you and trails behind you. He follows you around and watches you as you bump into the sofa’s edge when he calls your name and stumble forward only to lose your footing and fall straight onto the floor.

It did not help that your arm had slid against the edge of the centre table and you horribly skinned the back of your arm.

Ajax stands there, horrified for a moment, before he ignores the cluttered mess of chargers and wires and crouches down beside you, immediately checking your injuries and helping you sit up. But it does not help him when he sees blood slowly starting to ooze from the mess of broken skin and you wince when he gently grabs your hand to look at the wound.

Regardless, he cups your face with the other hand while simultaneously looking you over for other injuries. When you assure him and his repeated questions that it’s just your arm, he relaxes a bit. However, he cannot help it. There’s more blood now, not a lot but enough to completely cover the broken skin, and if he leaves it be, it might start trickling down your arm before the wounds close.

So, Ajax does what his mind wants him to do. He kisses the skin near the wound at first, completely ignoring your questioning look, and slowly moves towards the injury. Soft lips glide over the skin, inching closer towards the desired target. Then, when he can feel your gentle tugs to be let free, he tightens his grip and licks.

Ajax licks some of the blood, the texture of broken skin welcomed by his tongue. You sit there horrified and extremely confused while he licks it again before freezing and letting go.

Awkward eye contact ensues, and your face clearly shows how utterly puzzled and alarmed you are. Nevermind the fact that those were wet licks and your arm has his saliva on it and the broken skin he lapped up is on his tongue which he is sneakily trying to swallow.

Minutes pass, and you finally gather the composure to speak. “Ajax. What the fuck?”

He is quick to be defensive, knowing full well you’ve been so good to him these days and he can’t afford to scare you off. “I just… I let my intrusive thoughts win. Sorry.”

Your terror only grows. “I don’t even want to know what your intrusive thoughts are anymore. Well. At least your licking distracted me from the pain. It doesn’t hurt anymore with your spit on it. Gross. Wash your mouth after this.”

Somehow, a smile stretches on his face. “Wash my mouth? After getting to have a piece of you? Sweetheart, a little bit of you is in me. Why would I ever not want that?” You open your mouth to interject but are cut off. “If I could, I’d make us become one. That way, I don’t have to worry about you thinking of anything else except me.”

You’re quite… speechless. Did he really just indirectly admit he wants to eat you? What the hell??

“Speaking of which,” Ajax whispers, “forgive me but another intrusive thought won.” With that, he moves closer. Close enough in your face to have your noses brushing. To his surprise, you do not create distance, allowing him to fan his breath over your lips as he slowly turns his head.

The only thing stopping his lips from kissing yours directly is his hand on your lips. 

When he pulls away, Ajax’s blue eyes meet your widened ones, your face flushed and clearly flustered. Unfortunately for you, a grin is on his face. “I’ll kiss you for real when you say yes to the ring. Then, I'll make your body mine too.”

With that, he gets up and grabs the first aid box while you sit with his spit drying on your arm. You are sometimes genuinely terrified of him. This is one of those times.

-

“Don’t lick me ever again.”

Ajax frowns at that. “If you forbid me, then how am I supposed to go dow-”

“Stop! That’s enough!” You successfully shut him up, and he continues disinfecting your injury in silence. “Do not spew such mindless words ever again.”

Unfortunately, he catches onto your words, smiling mischievously. “I’ll do it if you do one thing.” When asked for his conditions, Ajax shamelessly gives his request. “Tell me you’re mine. That I’m the person you want.”

When you show hesitation, he is quick to remind you that you’ve agreed to completely move in with him and agreed to sleeping with him. Thus, you acquiesce.

“I’m… Ugh, I can’t believe I’m saying this.” He chuckles, but you continue humouring him. “I’m yours, Ajax.”

He pushes further. “And?”

Your cheeks heat up, and you meekly let out the second part. “And… you’re the person I want.”

As soon as the desired words leave your mouth, Ajax is soothed. Soon, he’s disinfected the mess of broken skin and tied a bandage around your arm for the time being so that you don’t accidentally hurt yourself again. When asked about his payment, you simply pat his cheek like you do, but decide to scratch the skin behind his ear before travelling upwards into his hair.

With a last pat to his head, you leave him a blushing mess with messy hair as you return to the wires scattered on the ground, picking them up before continuing what you were doing. It doesn’t serve him right that you casually rendered him paralysed and just got up and left. But then again, that is the least you should do against him after what he has done to you.

Flustering someone does not compare to putting them in a fancy cage. Well, Ajax’s deceit makes it hurt more. If you knew the full extent of his desires, you would never let him breathe the same air as you. But you do not. And that is precisely why he plans to slowly let them surface, to allow you time to accept him. He just hopes he doesn’t grow impatient with how good you’ve been.

(Bonus scene)

“What do you mean you want a pillow wall between us?”

You don’t mind Ajax’s childish whines, instead busying yourself with moisturising your face. But when he moves to remove a pillow, you are quick to turn and give him a glare. “I agreed to sleeping next to you and moving into your room. The least you can do is give me time to settle in and let me have a damn pillow wall.”

Ajax slowly puts the pillow back down quietly, and you turn around to close the moisturiser bottle. Though you catch a glimpse of him glaring daggers into the pillow wall, you continue cleaning the clutter of your things on the dressing table.

You’ll take it away in a few days. Let him suffer for a few nights.

[symptomsofdeceit]

What’s it like to make out with Nalis? Just imagine randomly during a chat at work the player is like “I want to make out with you, can I?” and is not joking, and if he agrees immediately starts kissing him. 😀

This isn’t explicit but it’s a bit suggestive so it’s under a cut to be safe! Also warning this is a very long answer 😅 it’s almost like 3 mini fanfics

It depends!

🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋

• If you have NOT gotten ending 3, so Nalis has never thought about kissing before:

When you first ask he’d agree, almost out of habit because he always likes trying new things with you. He wouldn’t have had time to genuinely think about it yet though. When you kiss him he’d blush a lot and make a pathetic uncharacteristic sound between a whine/moan/gasp. He would then suddenly excuse himself because he “forgot something he needs to do”.

He’d find somewhere private ASAP - still blushing and feeling very out of control of his emotions. If your kiss was more intimate / your body was pressed against him, he’d also be extremely hard and end up with a nose bleed (idc if it’s unrealistic, it’s fun and I’m cursing him with nose bleeds when aroused. I need to add that to his current kissing scene too).

You wouldn’t see him for the rest of the day, he’d text some excuse about work being busy. If you’re the type to overthink he’d also send a “btw thanks for always being a good friend!” message in an attempt to make sure you don’t think he’s mad at you 💀

🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋

• If you have gotten ending 3:

Nalis would start blushing when you ask this. Up until now you’ve only really seen him blush when he admits you’re a good friend/important to him, and that’s always felt very innocent and genuine. If you’re perceptive you might be able to tell that it feels a little different here.

Nalis would probably reply with something teasing like “Oh~? You want to kiss me? Have you… thought about kissing me before?” while trying to at least partially hide the excitement in his voice. He’d feel really conflicted between really wanting to kiss you again (especially now that you want to and know it’s him), but also feeling anxious because of how he can’t control these emotions.

If it’s too soon after ending 3, Nalis would probably end up pretending to get a work call and using an excuse to push this off until later. He’s just not sure about how to handle having feelings + desires that are above his control yet.

🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋🍋

I’m including this as a fun little bonus:

• If, for some insane reason, after ending 3 you have another encounter with “Thaumo shapeshifted to look like Nalis” and asks to kiss him:

Nalis would start laughing in a pretty unhinged way. He’d sound like a weird mix between mocking and sweet and ask “Really, girlie/buddy? You want to kiss me again?” He’d quickly walk closer to you and pin you against the closest wall.

He’d be very insistent on asking why, trying to figure out if you want to kiss him because you think he’s Thaumo, or if it’s because he looks like Nalis.

Either way, after asking that he’d kiss you. It would be more possessive and aggressive while he’s struggling with all his emotions. He’d also break the kiss to ask if you wished he was “the real Nalis”. By the end of it he’d be very turned on and his nose would be bleeding, and he’d be feeling very unstable depending on your answers.

(Nalis is willing to do more when you think he’s Thaumo because then there’s no risk of you losing trust in Nalis)

[andromeda-nova-writing]

"Are you laughing at me?" "Yeah, I am. What are you going to do about it?" - Wriothesley Request from @isekyaaa

When Clorinde said she knew someone who could teach Y/N the basics of a different hand-to-hand combat style she wasn’t expecting that Wriothesley would be the one to teach her. One would think it would be easy to take the guy seriously but all the stories from Clorinde and that his back was absolutely covered in stickers made it so hard. It would have been easier if she said she would just show up to the fortress for her lesson rather than agreeing with him to take advantage of the nice weather out at the beach. With his coat on, the stickers were at least out of sight.

“You know I never got the reason why you agreed to this.”

“Clorinde didn’t tell you?” He was focused on wrapping his hands.

“Nah. Just said she knew a guy.” Her head tilted to the side. “Is there something I should know? Heard from her that you both like betting. You lost?”

He sighed. “Yeah, but this is better than me winning and my shelves filling up with more law books.”

Y/N laughed. “So you’re the reason I end up swinging by the bookstore to pick up a law book for her every now and then.”

Wriothesley rolled his eyes with a smile. “Seems so. You ready over there.”

“Been. You were the late one.”

“Work’s a bit far from here to be fair.”

“I thought I was gonna have to tell Clorinde you were a no-show. I’d be back on the hunt for an instructor. Probably could find someone better if I spent more time looking.” She teased.

“You’re gonna give me a headache.”

“Don’t tell me I’m too much for you to handle.”

He looked away biting his lip, he pushed his bangs back before letting them fall in front of his face. “Let’s just get this started.”

It didn't take long for Y/N to begin understanding the basics. The only issue was that she kept falling back into the stance of her normal fighting style. It was definitely something she’d have to work on to fix but at the same time being able change styles mid fight could be an advantage. 

After some time of just focusing making sure she was picking things up correctly. It didn’t hurt to test some things out in a small scrimmage. It would just be a few blows back and forth with no real weight behind them. 

Y/N had thrown a punch Wriothesley way. She focused on pushing him further back towards the water. It was her best bet with that they were in two different weight classes. It wasn’t hard for him to dodge. But in doing so he tripped backwards trying to avoid stepping on a crab and fell into the waves that crashed against the shore.

She couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. Yes, he had been a more than perfect teacher the entire time. But with the knowledge he was helping cause of a lost bet, the stickers that covered his back and that he was soaked beyond belief she let go of everything that kept her from laughing at the man.

He looked up at the woman who was now towering above him as the waves gently splashed at him leaving no part of his clothes dry. “Are you laughing at me?” He wasn’t mad but he for sure knew he had to look a bit stupid.

“Yeah, I am. What are you going to do about it?” She teased. It wasn’t like he could do anything about it.

He sighed. “You’re right nothing I can do. Help a guy up?”

Y/N wiped a tear that formed from her laughter before holding a hand out to him to pull him back up standing. Wriothesley took her hand pulling himself up just slightly before pulling her down into the water with him.

“Ugggh, You asshole!” She laid in the water beside Him.

“It's what you get.” He let go of her hand before splashing her lightly.

“It’s not like I was the one who pushed you in.”

“You were laughing enough where you might as well have.”

She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe Clorinde set me up to learn from a man who doesn’t know how to even treat a lady.”

“I don’t know if our activities here would even have you being considered lady like.”

“I think it’s very lady like knowing how to defend yourself. After all you never know when a big oaf is going to pull you into the ocean.”

“You say that like you haven’t been having a good time.”

She turned her head away to hide the smile that was creeping onto her face. “Let’s just go dry off already.”

[my-castles-crumbling]

Hello my loves! A few little…announcements, I guess? Regarding asks/advice

Basically, I love you all, and please know you’re never bothering me. However, the volume of like…advice-related asks has gotten exponentially bigger lately. I love that you all feel safe to come to me and please still do so! But I feel like setting a goal of getting back to every advice ask within 24 hours has become kind of detrimental to my own mental health and my IRL relationships. So I have to make some changes.

From now on, I’ll be answering five advice-related asks a day. If I end up wanting to do more I might, but all I can promise is five.

(I’ll still answer other asks as well (ask game asks, silly things people send, questions about myself) and I won’t count them towards that number. Please continue to send love, happiness, silly things! They make my day!)

If you send a general (not personal) advice ask that I’ve gotten a lot (writing advice, for example). I’m going to start adding an FAQ to my pinned post. I’ll answer those asks and then put them in the FAQ. If someone asks again, I’ll direct them there. It’s not because I don’t love you all, it’s just because I want to help the most people possible.

Please don’t take this as a “don’t send me asks anymore” thing. I love helping you guys and like…selfishly, asks make me feel so special. I love that you all trust me enough to talk to me, and helping you guys has really helped my confidence, too. But I think I do need to be a role model a bit and set a boundary of balancing this with my own health.

Please also understand that I’m a bit nervous doing this. I don’t want anyone to be upset or take this the wrong way. I don’t want to ruin the safe space here and I’m so scared people will be mad at me or think I’m mad at them. So I’m trying to be honest about my feelings!

Lastly, if you are in a crisis, remember that my pinned post has a crisis help line. I would hate to think someone is waiting for a response from me and does something regrettable because of that.

I love you all so much and I’ll be back tomorrow!

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hi, I hope this isn't too heavy for an anon ask, but I truly don't know where else to ask this

when i saw your thread about child sex ed, I just wondered... did i accidentally assault my brother???

so for some context I was raped/CSA'd sometime before the age of 11 and it's fucked up my perception of what's considered appropriate. when we were little, my brother who is very close in age to me and I used to have a game of "going to the doctor" where we would go in the bathroom and just look at each other's bodies (in a nonsexual way, normal behavior for curious kids). the part that gets me is that I remember trying to get him to stick his fingers in my holes -- to his credit he always refused and I never physically forced him to do anything, but in retrospect the thought just makes me ill

and before you ask, yes, our sex ed as children was very spotty and pretty much ended at how babies are made

hi anon,

this is a heavy one, and I'm sorry you've been feeling gross about this.

for what it's worth, I don't think anything you're describing is inappropriate or particularly unusual. as you said, it's very normal for young children to examine each other's bodies. this is a very developmentally normal curiosity to have, especially between children who have noticed that their body parts look different. that can include exploring bodily cavities, and there's nothing inherently harmful or abusive about that. some years ago Lena Dunham got BLASTED as a child abuser for talking about looking at her baby sibling's vulva in her memoir, and that made me incredibly mad. Lena Dunham wasn't molesting her sibling; she was a curious child and people using completely ordinary childhood activities to call her a pedophile just because she's annoying fucking sucks.

listen. caveat: not all instances of children taking an interest in each other's bodies is harmless. molestation can very much occur between siblings, and cause lasting trauma. okay? that's a real thing. your fears are not baseless.

but it sounds like you and your brother were both engaging in consensual play and you didn't force the issue when he didn't want to digitally penetrate you. unless you feel like dredging the issue up with your brother, or he wants to bring it up and/or is exhibiting any signs of lasting sexual trauma, I think you are probably safe to assume that you didn't do any lasting harm.

it's understandable to have the ick about it now as an adult, with greater context. and it's very normal to be cautious and worried that you may have hurt your brother unintentionally. but please try not to be too hard on yourself about this. you were a kid doing things kids do. your intentions were not malicious, and being a kid unknowingly doing something that *might* hurt someone is not the same as being an abuser.

[copperbadge]

Hello! Any idea of when the next novel will be posted for public review? I know that there have been some difficulties with it but also it's such a delightful universe that I want to dive in again. You can answer this publicly without worry. I'm not trying to rush or badger, just wondering. Thank you again for writing and please give Deebs and Dot scritches for me!

Oh, that's a nice thing to hear! I'm constantly worried that people are bored and tired of these stories so while I tell myself 1. That's not really why I write and 2. It's FINE, nobody is mad at me for being creative, it does help to hear.

I'm working away on Simon's novel, The Chicken Salad War, which is deliberately planned as a short novel, closer in wordcount to Fete rather than Royals/Ramblers. It's about 21K words currently, out of a planned 50-60K, and the vast majority of it is outlined, but writing is going a little slowly. I should do an essay at some point about how the slowdown is actually positive and to do with getting on ADHD meds, but I need to spend some time on that.

I hope to have it ready for reading by end of summer if not before; I'd love to post it in August since Reclamation Day is the novel's climax, but I can't say if I'll be able to. If I really knuckle down I might be able to post it in a pair with the football novel, but that's very ambitious.

I may have some short stories to post across the summer, not sure yet -- I'm working on one where Michaelis and Jes take Noah and Joan to Galia for Pride, but I haven't found the hook for it yet. There are a few like that really.

I appreciate the encouraging words regardless! And I will certainly cuddle the cryptids on your behalf :D

[ninapi]

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- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ Better Half (Sukuna Version)❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

Premise: Nobara forced Yuuji to stop by a food stand every time they came back from a mission. The girl working there always entranced the youngster, causing his teammates to tease him more than usual. An odd encounter brings her a little too close to Sukuna who ends up just as smitten as his counterpart with the young beauty. Which half will get her heart? Only time will tell.

Word Count: 2334

Note: you can read the first installment of this story here ☺️

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Sukuna Ryomen, the king of curses…nobody would have pegged him for a romantic really…but the fact that he hasn’t stopped thinking about the soft squishy cheeks of that human girl might make you think otherwise.

While Yuuji had been sulking about the fact that you were somehow also attracted to Sukuna, the king himself has been basking in his glorious triumph.

Specially with the way you looked at him like he was the hottest guy in the universe, in all truth, he knew he was, always known, his vessel was unimportant, but getting it recognized by such a fine piece of art such as yourself made his ego boost to the rooftop.

While he didn’t like being inside of Itadori and wished to take over Megumi at some point, he started to consider that maybe it wasn’t as bad to inhabit him for the time being, you did like the idiot, so he might as well make good use of his resources. 

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

The next morning Yuuji wasn’t feeling like himself, he kept on appearing in places he didn’t try to visit, with no recollection of how he even got there. It was an unsettling feeling specially how each time he did he was closer and closer to your place of work.

He knew this had to be related to Sukuna and he didn’t like it one bit.

Yuuji tried to let his friends know of what was happening, try to get you out of there before you would get even more involved in the world of curses, but Megumi and Nobara both had been assigned to a quick mission with Gojo sensei and didn’t tell him about it to give him time to feel better with himself.

He was on his own and he needed to get you to safety.

Running over to the crepe stand, he noticed it wasn’t open yet, it was still too early and all the shops around were as closed as yours.

His blood kept pumping through his entire body, he looked up and down the street like a lost puppy hoping to get a glimpse of your beautiful face as soon as possible. But the moment he did, his body turned off again, welcoming the king himself.

“Well hello there, my queen~ Looking rather fine as usual…” his eyes were eating you up like a pastry, you could see the evil and lust full glint of his eyes from meters away.

“You’re early today~” offering him a sweet smile, you went by to get the locks open.

“Let me help you with that, gorgeous. No need to get on your knees, yet…” his smirk gave you the chills, he was so hungry for you, you could feel it all the way to your bones, but somehow you were not mad at it in the slightest.

He went on his knees and got all the locks opened up for you in no time, your stand ready for a day’s work in less than half the time it would have normally take.

“Such a gentleman~” you laid a hand on one of his ridiculously well built muscly arms as you made your way inside to get your apron on. “Would you like a breakfast crepe? It’s my specialty~”

“Oh my dear, I want more than a little snack from you….but if your lovely hands get to do it, I guess I wouldn’t mind having one…” his words never failed to make you giggle, this eccentric and sexy side of him was so different from the other one, yet so enticing, made you want to get to know him better.

As you turn on the iron grill and prepare the ingredients, you decide to test the waters, “So…Itadori-kun…can you…tell me whats up with your changes in mood? Don’t think I mind them, I just want to understand you a bit better…” your tone was soft, sweet, really understanding and inviting, while Yuuji would have love that, he didn’t. Sukuna didn’t want you to think of him as pathetic little Itadori, he wanted you to see him for who he truly was, and that meant breaking down for you the dark truth of this world.

“I’m not him, that’s it..” you waited for him to elaborate, your theory of him having double personality now becoming stronger.

“I’m Sukuna Ryomen, the king of curses. Just happen to be living inside this crappy teenager body…but I’m so much better than him in every way, babe, trust me on that.” his confident tone gave you goosebumps, but of the good kind, his voice was so sexy and the way he seemed to be undressing you with his eyes as you cooked was certainly not helping.

“A curse? Does that mean you’re some sort of spirit living in him? Or are you another soul trapped in the same body?” you were clever, more than he expected. Humans usually tend to laugh and think of this sort of things as jokes, but you didn’t treat him like he was crazy, you were seriously trying to grasp the situation and understand him fully.

“You could say it’s a bit of both. Curses aren’t really spirits but an amalgamation of cursed energy harbored by negative emotions humans tend to have…” for the first time in his very long lived life, he was terrified of scaring someone off, he didn’t want you to give him the cold shoulder, to see him like a freak, and he has never had such a wish before.

“Negative emotions…does that mean Itadori-kun is depressed and brought you out?”

“Not really, he kind of…took me in willingly, of course he didn’t really know what he was getting himself into…” you didn’t seem to back off, contrary to what he thought it would happen you seemed fascinated with everything he had to say.

“So you have nothing to do with Itadori-kun then. Is that why your voice is so deep and you get those fancy tattoos?”

“Precisely, we are completely different beings. He’s just a mere vessel, I am the king of curses, the most powerful being out there. And you, my little dove, happen to tick all the boxes for the queen spot right beside me~” 

Your giggles were killing him, he’s never been this attracted to anyone, let alone a human. You weren’t just the cutest little thing, but incredibly hot too. His blood kept going south every few minutes, his body becoming all twitchy every time you made one of your cute little sounds.

“I’m just a part-timer who happens to make good crepes. How does that make me a queen candidate?”

“I’ve never wished for a queen before. There’s nobody stronger than me, hence pleasing me is not an easy task. But you, my flower, just the sight of you gets me as high as never before…” your blushing increased tenfold, you could literally feel how aroused he was and in all honesty you had no idea how to handle a man like that, even worse… a curse like that…

“So you like my face? Is that it?” trying to force the situation down a notch, you handed him his breakfast crepe and got to your cleaning duties.

“Your face? Oh no, my darling. Your soul, your body…everything about you is so damn delicious…I could see myself enjoying every single crease of your body for all eternity…” you weren’t expecting someone to comment on how good your soul seemed to taste, it was quite frankly terrifying, yet arousing at the same time. You’ve never been wanted with such intensity, made you feel empowered, important, special.

“Oh yeah? That does sound like fun, I admit. But you aren’t always yourself, are you? I’ve seen Itadori out more often than you.”

“You’re not wrong, my dove, you're quite observant. I’m gearing up to take over him completely, I just didn’t have the need or even the motivation to do so until I met you…I don’t want this pathetic human pawing at whats mine…” his cold tone full of hatred and disgust shook you to your core, while you’ve been hearing all he had to say, you didn’t fully understand how dangerous he was until this moment.

“So what happens to Itadori-kun if you’re out all the time?”

“Why do you care? Do you like him more than you like me? Do you like the empty headed weakling who doesn’t have an ounce of talent without my powers?” he was scowling now, his voice raising by the second making you feel weak in more than one way.

But your answer was definite, quick, simple, “No.” and that was all it took to get his anger under control.

“Was just wondering…”

A wide smirk adorned his handsome features once more as he leaned against the windowsill, “Well if you must know, he will disappear once I take over, at least until I switch bodies…How do you feel about the Fushiguro boy? Don’t you think he’s way more of an attractive vessel?”

His words made you freeze, your answer could easily ruin someone’s life, but also save another.

“The raven haired friend of his?” 

“Yeah, he’s a masterpiece, some would say he’s the perfect vessel, I’ve been eyeing him for a while, but you seem attach to this one…” 

“Hm, he is cute. But I met you with this face, it would be a bit awkward if you were to switch faces completely, if that makes sense…” 

“It does, I expected as much. For now I’ll stay in Itadori, but I’m sure I’ll get you convinced in no time that he’s better.”

He was done eating, though no other customer had shown ever since, you started thinking it was probably his doing as this was usually peak time for your business.

“So... Sukuna?” he nodded proudly, tingles running al over his body once he heard his real name flowing from those delicious looking lips of yours.

“You said you wanted to take me to hell with you, was that literal? Or you just meant me going with you in general?” your curious nature was delightful.

“Eventually the place you know as your home will be nothing but a charred pile of ashes, curses will roam freely, humans will no longer be the superior race…When that time comes, you’d have a place right by my side, on my throne, ruling over all of them, curses and humans alike…” it sounded like an awful future for human race, yet it somehow didn’t feel like he was bullshitting you. 

The whole curses thing was starting to be a bit too real for you and while you couldn’t really see them, the fact that human’s despair could turn to deadly creatures of the night sounded more possible than it should.

“Shouldn’t someone more important sit with the king himself? I’m nothing special…” 

“Are you questioning me?” his tone was going back to its cold nature the more you talked, “Because seems to me like you think you have an option…I’m not asking you, my dove, I’m telling you what the future is going to look like.”

“So I don’t have a choice then…” your voice didn’t sound defeated in the slightest, nor there was a hint of fear in it, and he liked it.

“The king has spoken? Is that it?”

“Something like that.”

To this statement you just nodded, accepting your fate was better than getting in troubles. He did seem like he wants to treasure in his own very peculiar way and it’s not like this par- time job could do more than help paying your bills.

“Do you have books on curses or something? I would like to get to know more about what I’m getting myself into, unlike Itadori. If I have to be a queen, I might as well be a good one. Right?” your sweet smile had come back, he was positively glittering with excitement at this point. It’s not like you had a choice, he would take you regardless of anything you had to say, but the fact that you were taking this so well made him fill up with pride, brimming with hope. 

And that was new.

Hope is the very opposite of cursed energy, he was literally defying his own existence by taking in his ball of sunshine under his wing. 

But if a curse deserved a happy ending, it certainly had to be the king of them, right?

“Itadori might have some in his room, he does go to a sorcery school after all. I’ll look into it for you, my love.”

You just nodded, inching closer to his face, “My king…”

His entire world collapsed right there, while nobody can control him, and never will, you certainly knew how to make him feel weak…and somehow he didn’t hate it…

“I’ll pick you up by nightfall, babe…prepare yourself for the night of your life, I ain’t holding back…” giving you a little whiff, his time outside came to an end, a very confused Itadori was left looking at you up close, closer than never before.

“(Y/N)…? Are you ok? Oh my god…why am I here…?” you just caressed his face in a loving tender manner, he was your love’s vessel after all, and you’d take care of him just as much.

“It’s ok sweet stuff. You’re fine, I’m fine. Are you hungry?” and with that, he turned into a puddle of goo forgetting the whole reason he was there in the first place, maybe having Sukuna making you swoon wasn’t so bad after all.

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Previous Chapter Masterlist

[flowerwrites06]

plucked blossom — myg

PLUCKED BLOSSOM | Yoongi | Oneshot | Request or Original 

Original Request: Arranged marriage au?? E2L?? They were enemies but yoongi finding out she was just a hurt precious soul. Ending up with Yoongi being protective of oc Plot: Two nobles are rushed into marriage and struggle to navigate the pressures of the court. Pairing: Noble!Yoongi x Noble!OC (Name: Kiku) Genre: Historical AU Rating: R18+ Word Count: 4k+ Warnings: coarse language, angst, marriage troubles, explicit sexual content (unprotected) Author’s Note: I wanted to experiment with this sort of period historical style for a story. Hope you enjoy!

“This is the third ball you’ve refused to attend,” Yoongi said as two servants placed a white box onto the bed.

Kiku only glanced at the object before going back to her embroidery, still working on the same daffodil which was already fraying from her lack of focus. “I told you I wasn’t in the mood.”

Yoongi lets out another frustrated sigh, his white sleeves rolled up by the afternoon and his patience thinned as he placed his hands on his hips. “Eventually we need to become public.”

“We have become public, we had a wedding so big, the money could’ve fed the entire country.” The two servants quickly walked out of the room, wanting to avoid what was the fifth argument they’ve had.

“Oh you’re a pure, giving soul now?”

Kiku rolled her eyes, stabbing the fabric again for the next stitch. “If you want to go to the ball so bad, why don’t you just go by yourself?”

Yoongi shook her head. “That’s not a good look.”

“Why not? So many men there attend a ball only to fuck some other noblewoman in the garden.” She raised her eyes to glare at him directly. “At least you’ll be honest with yourself.”

Frustration laced his gaze. “I don’t go there to fuck some random person, it’s just tradition.”

“Well, I’m not going.”

Yoongi cleared his throat, clearly to gather whatever saintly patience that was hanging by a threat. With another deep breath, he walked to the box and opened it to reveal a beautiful pale blue dress, transparent outer kaftan with a silk white inner dress. “I brought you a new dress. It’s your favourite colour.”

Kiku looked at the dazzling delicate silver embroidery at the edges, just the way she preferred it. “Did you go to consult my brother to find out?”

“No, your brother thought it was yellow.”

Kiku’s brows furrowed. “Of course he did.”

The tension between them slowly cooled as it always did. Something about Yoongi’s seemingly endless way of handling her quips and her own demeanour becoming gentle caused their arguments to end swiftly. Granted, they were still frequent but it was shorter everytime.

In a softer voice, Yoongi spoke. “Just one night a month, I’d like you to come public with me.”

“I don’t have good relationships with the court members,” Kiku said empathetically.

“Then ignore them, just come.”

“Why’re you being so insistent? You were never like this before.” Kiku crossed her arms over her chest. “You have been talking to my brother, haven’t you?”

“He…we think that the people might be whispering certain things.” Yoongi waved his hand.

Anger flared in her chest. Of course the court started muttering poisonous rumours. Everytime someone wanted some alone time to actually think about their life for once, they wanted to punish those people. Because it meant too much honesty in a world so used to pretty lies. “They whisper a lot of things, what is it this time?”

“They think you might’ve gone mad.” Yoongi didn’t waste breath saying this, as if he had already convinced himself of it.

Kiku chuckled, putting her embroidery away and walking to look at the window. “What delightful conversations you and my brother have about me.”

“We didn’t come up with it.”

“But you’re perpetuating it, aren’t you? Trying to drag me out of my comforts to prove something to people who don’t even clean their own shit.” Kiku moved to closer to Yoongi. “And don’t you think you both have devised enough plans to control my life? Is secretly discussing for my hand not enough?”

“We were not secretly devising, you had an illicit affair, we were protecting you.” Yoongi grew frustrated in his tone.

“Then protect me from the rumours, go to the ball and leave me be.” Kiku nodded to the door.

“Kiku, you’re coming to the ball tonight.” Yoongi said through gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry, are you going to make me, beloved husband?” Kiku smirked bitterly. “Or you can go complain your good friend about her mad sister. I’m not going.” She turned away to her vanity, sitting and taking off the pins in her hair since it was giving her headache.

Silence plagued the room as Yoongi pushed the box away and sat on the bed. A thoughtful sigh passed through him.

“I know it’s hard when rumours spread, Kiku. I’ve had it done to my mother before and she became a recluse, unable to speak to anyone.” Yoongi said, softening again. “I don’t want that for you. There’s a certain strength to showing your face too.”

Kiku sighed, remembering the way people made the most heinous rumours about Yoongi’s mother when she was a lovely woman, simply broken by the pressures of perfection. “Don’t use your mother against me,” she said, looking at him through the mirror. “One hour. That’s all.”

Yoongi’s expression softened as he returned her gaze through the reflection and nodded. “One hour, I promise.”

-

The one hour seemed like forever once she entered the ballroom at young nightfall. Kiku adored her new dress as she matched it with soft pearls and a loose hairstyle. Yoongi wore a dark blue velvet suit to match her, linking his arm with hers.

Everything was beautiful with delicious smelling food, delicate wines and comfortable seats to lounge around.

“All your favourite food here too,” Yoongi muttered in her ear.

“I’m here now, you don’t need to convince me.” Kiku said with a smile which Yoongi returned.

A noblewoman rustled towards them wearing an elaborate yellow gown. “Kiku, you’re here!” She smiled far too wide for it to be genuine. “It’s so nice to see you bravely walking.”

Kiku hummed in agreement, pushing down the frustration in her belly.

Kiku’s brother, Daiki sauntered over to them after leaving his wife at the corner of the hall. He smiled, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “You got her out of hiding, good.”

“I wasn’t hiding, I simply enjoy my private company.” Kiku didn’t bother smiling back at him since he perfectly knew how she felt about him.

Daiki scoffed. “Just enjoy yourself.” He patted her shoulder before walking away from his wife who tried to ignore wherever her husband was going off to. “Yoongi, come to drink.”

Yoongi stammered, looking between Daiki and Kiku.

“Just go, he’ll need more supervision anyway.”

Yoongi nodded before walking over to Daiki.

Kiku took a drink and took a comfortable seat away from as many people as possible. She took a book that was haphazardly thrown on an end table, beginning to read.

Unfortunately, nobles were more like vultures than humans. The moment noblewomen noticed that it was mad Kiku sitting at the lounge chair, the more they flocked for the picking.

“How’ve you been, Kiku?” One noble lady asked with her cheeks rouged until it looked blood.

“Are you feeling well?” The other asked.

“I’m alright, thank you. Just needed to be alone.” Still want to be alone, Kiku thought.

“It’s a shame with all that’s happened,” the first lady said. “With that boy.”

Kiku cleared her throat, keeping her eyes on the book. “It’s in the past now.”

“It looked very serious at the moment. You were so ready to give up your riches, I was concerned.” The second lady said. “I knew you were getting far too swept away with him. I told them that I could recommend a physician.”

“Now, now, I’m sure she has her own physicians to tend to her.” The first lady patted her shoulder.

Kiku narrowed her gaze then. “I’m sorry, a physician?”

“Well…you know, people have been talking and your brother is so private about you. We thought you were…destabilizing. I mean you were going to leave your home for that boy.” The second noble lady, Charlotte her name was, laughed. “It was so obvious he wanted the fortune, why else would they bother to break such rules?”

Kiku felt her body burn but she kept a neutral face. “It may be a struggle to understand but I was in love, not insane.”

“Clearly, it wasn’t requited, darling.” Charlotte snickered. “Your poor brother had to fix the mess in such record time, I admire him.”

“Sounds rather similar to a mess you got yourself in recently, Charlotte,” Yoongi’s voice cut into the tension.

Charlotte chuckled bitterly as her eyes flickered back. “Excuse me?”

“How your baby was born in record time of six months. Your husband managed to be stupid enough to believe that his strong seed shortened the pregnancy,” Yoongi said.

Charlotte blushed, stammering.

Yoongi held out his hand. “Come, we should get some clean air.”

Kiku tried not to smile too much at Charlotte’s dumbfounded face as she held onto Yoongi’s hand and followed him out into the gardens.

The air was so cool and sweet out here that she could’ve cried. She had clearly forgotten how stifling ballrooms were despite looking like opulence sent from heaven. Kiku let out a deep breath of relief.

Then they looked at each other before Kiku let out a laugh. “Charlotte’s baby?”

“It’s Matteson’s.”

“Wow. I didn’t even know they liked each other.”

“They probably don’t.” Yoongi chuckled.

Kiku stayed silent for a while as they settled themselves near a patch of flowers. They sat like this for a while as if Yoongi knew she was getting adjusted the welcomed calm of it all. “Thank you for taking me out of there.”

“I made you come here. It’s the least I can do,” Yoongi said. “I’m sorry I forced you.”

“It’s okay, I didn’t know it was gonna be that brutal.” Kiku rested back against the plum tree, still slowly picking up blossoms. “But it always is.”

He hummed. “So…this boy…”

Kiku looked at him curious. “He never told you?”

“I mean, it was vague, I didn’t really know what happened.” Yoongi raised his shoulders.

Kiku pursed her lips together.

“You don’t need to tell me.”

“If they knew, you may as well.” Kiku chuckled sadly. “I fell in love with a commoner boy, he was one of the cooks. I grew lonely in the palace and I thought…maybe if I ran away with him, I’d be happy. But he wanted the entire garden, not just the single blossom.” She had never been able to voice it out ever since it happened.

Daiki spent most of his days trying to pretend it never happened and in some way, Kiku wanted the same too. Even the wedding was meant to be a haphazard way to pretending nothing was wrong. It was only now she truly expressed it to someone. And her heart clenched, finally understanding that it has been broken and bruised. She didn’t cry but it was a quiet realization of her pain. One she could now share for a moment.

Yoongi’s heart dropped as he looked out to the garden. “I don’t like too many flowers choking my sights anyway.” It wasn’t the most clever of comforts but it was the most he could gather as every statement or insult thrown at her played in his head. He liked Daiki but he had very much adopted the dismissive nature of his parents when it came to uncomfortable topics. Yoongi’s mother taught him different.

Kiku chuckled. “Good to know.”

-

The days had become far more pleasant ever since that night in the garden. Kiku and Yoongi managed to compromise on going to balls twice a month instead of every week while also keeping a time limit on how long they could withstand the nobles. Although, other rumours became far more interesting as Kiku was established as a recurring face. Even Charlotte and Matteson’s affair turned stale on everyone’s tongues.

Kiku spent her mornings strolling around her gardens as a way to heal her mind. Yoongi usually read during this time and Daiki hadn’t quite visited to make his presence known, so it was a delicate calm over the estate.

She thought it would be another gentle day. Another day to appreciate the new feelings of joy thrumming through her. And yet here he was.

The face she was so excited to see after a frustrating conversation with Daiki. The face that had given her so much comfort and then so much unimaginable heartbreak.

“Hanzo,” Kiku said.

Hanzo smiled sweetly. “My lady.”

“Why’re you here?” She asked.

He stammered, smile disappearing, clearly expecting Kiku to be elated in some way. “I wanted to see you.”

Kiku scoffed. “You’ve seen me now.” She tried to turn away back into the house to see Yoongi. Anyone else to make this go away.

But Hanzo walked past her, stopping her in her tracks. “Please, I just wanted to explain myself.”

“No need.” Kiku tried to push past him but he was persistent.

“I was foolish, okay?” His voice turned desperate. “You were asking me to run away with you, I needed the money.”

“Do you want money right now?” Kiku glared at him.

“No, I—I didn’t mean to leave you. I was going to lose my job if you eloped with me.” Hanzo gestured. “We would’ve been destitute, you need to understand.”

“It’s in the past now, why’re you coming back here?” Kiku pursed her lips together.

Hanzo paused for a moment, using up her time as much as he could apparently. Just like before. All that time and love used, drained from Kiku until there was barely anything left. “I have another job now. It’s better pay, I have a house and it’s in the forest, like you wanted.”

Kiku shook her head. “You left me without saying anything.”

“But you have to understand.”

“I would’ve understood if you told me,” Kiku spoke through gritted teeth. “What the hell did you take me for?”

“Well, you can come back to me.”

Kiku chuckled bitterly. “The court deemed me insane for trying to be with you.”

“You’ve never listened to them before.”

“Yes, well, my brother does and he tried to counteract it.”

He was confused only for a moment before realization captured his face. “Who is it?”

“Yoongi.”

“That’s not fair.” Hanzo tried to reach out to hold her.

A weak part of her wanted to let him but her feet stepped back out of instinct. “You should know a lot about that.”

“Just come with me then,” he muttered like sweetness.

“I’m not coming with you.”

Hanzo’s expression turned sour. “You were willing to when I was some helpless cook.”

Kiku’s heart squeezed. “Is that what you’ll keep telling me when we live in your house in the forest? Everytime you hurt me, you’ll excuse it by saying you were some helpless cook that I preyed on.”

Hanzo shook his head, stammering. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“We’re going to conveniently forget that you found me crying and thought it was a wonderful time to gain some money. And when you realised you couldn’t get it, that you’d just get a pathetic, sad lady, you ran away.” Tears burned in her eyes. It wasn’t the quiet realization she had in a calm mind with Yoongi but this was messy, uncomfortable and unsafe. She was falling into vulnerability to a man who would let her descend to her death if there was gold on another path. There was no comfort in these tears, just hurt.

He shook his head. “That’s not—”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” Kiku said, eyes glossing. “I gave you my heart, soul and body and you discarded it because it wasn’t enough of a promotion.”

Hanzo raised his hand in defense, reaching again for her arm. “I spoke out of turn.”

Kiku pushed his hand away roughly. “No, you expressed exactly who you are. If I ever for a moment miss you again, I’ll remember this so thank you.” She pursed her lips together. “Now get the fuck off my estate.” She turned and walked back into the house.

-

Kiku entered the lounge room in a thrumming of heat, taking off her hat and tossing it on the nearest chair. Yoongi was reading a book on the main couch which was cushioned with a gorgeous pale blue velvet. He had it made a few weeks ago just so Kiku would feel more comfortable in the estate. Remembering this gesture seemed to have reminded her to breathe.

Yoongi peered over his glasses to see Kiku’s cheeks and eyes flushed red. His expression softened as he lowered the book. “Are you alright?”

Kiku closed the door behind her for privacy and walked towards him, pacing around. “I just…I just need…” Her heart was pounding so hard that she could hear it in her ears, unable to think or feel anything from the numbness of her fingers.

Yoongi placed the book to his side, placing all his attention on her now. The sunlight softly kissing his flesh, showing the fuzz on his hair like gold wisps. “Okay.” It wasn’t accusatory or questioning. Just an acknowledgement that he was there.

This made Kiku breathe a bit calmer although her hands were still shaking. She had desperately wanted to see Hanzo’s face for so long. Why was it that the moment she was finally content with her life he had to come back again? Rip out all those mended patches and make her bleed in front of him. “He came back.”

“Oh.” His dark brows quirked behind his gold rimmed glasses.

“He just came back as if I was waiting patiently for him.” Tears blurred her vision but as she blinked, it began to dry from a rise in anger. “Like some puppy left for a few hours.”

“Is he still here?” Yoongi nodded to the door.

Kiku shook her head, chest heaving up and down. “I sent him away.”

“You sent him away?” Surprise laced his tone.

“He wanted me to be his housewife in a forest cottage,” Kiku said before scoffing. “I’m such a fool. I thought he was a good man.”

“Perhaps in his way, he might be.” Yoongi shrugged, tapping his fingers on the top of his book.

Kiku glared at him in her rush of fury, although it was not directed at him completely. “Are you defending him?”

“I’m defending a past version of yourself that trusted him,” Yoongi spoke calmly. “You said yourself that you needed company and he was there. Thus he was a good man in his own way.”

Kiku took a breath to say something but couldn’t. She looked away to the mirror before staring at him again. “When did you get so intelligent?”

Yoongi had a gentle shocked face. “I’ve always been intelligent.”

“Not with my brother.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You really need better friends to bring more of that out.”

“I have you, it seems to be helping.” Yoongi gestured to her.

A small smile creeped on her face, the tremors of her fingers now soothed and her body gently still in the comforts of the home she began to adore. “Good. I like it.”

“Did you tell him you married me?” He asked.

“I did.”

“What was the look on his face?” It wasn’t hard to notice the small quirk on the corner of his lips.

Kiku couldn’t help but smile. “Why’re you so interested?”

“Merely curious.”

She hummed in interest. “He was quite upset.”

“He looked pathetic, didn’t he?” Yoongi didn’t hide his smirk now.

“He did a little.” Kiku’s smile widened.

“Good,” Yoongi said. “You deserve better.”

Kiku scoffed. “Says my husband.”

“Am I not better?” He gestured to himself.

“I don’t have enough materials to be the perfect judge for that.” She tilted her head.

“Well, you’re free to gather them whenever you like.”

Kiku smiled, feeling a burn on her cheeks but not from anger. She took a deep breath. “I’ll go take a bath.” She turned on her heel.

Yoongi hummed, picking up his book. “Let me know if you need help.”

“I’ll be fine.” She smiled over her shoulder.

As she walked out of the room, Kiku rested her back on the door to calm her breathing for entirely different reasons. Her cheeks burning and her heart delightfully beating against her chest. She quickly tried to clear her throat and straighten up when a few maids walked down the hallway to clean the house.

Hanzo had no impact on her life anymore. All thought or memory faded so quickly just by the smallest conversation with Yoongi. So why waste the whole day caring about him? Or reflecting on him? She had taken enough time.

Opening the door again, Kiku closed it back again and rushed over to Yoongi. He was only just putting his book away again before she pounced on his lap and pulled him into a kiss. The book now pushed away and forgotten, Yoongi encased his arms around her, cupping her cheek and deepening the desperate kiss.

Kiku gently untied his shirt, sneaking her fingers and brushing them against his warm skin. Thumb caressed the bump of his neck as she ground against his hips, feeling him harden against her movements.

Yoongi unbuttoned her dress, letting her shrug off his outer layer before placing feverish kisses on her chest. He placed her on the couch, kissing the valley of her breasts sweetly.

The door opened behind them. “Sir?”

“Not now,” Yoongi groaned and the door promptly closed.

Kiku laughed as she undid his pants. “It could’ve been important,” she said.

Yoongi hovered over her. “Not important enough.” He kissed her neck, biting down the skin until it bloomed like a rose.

Kiku pushed him to lay him back, pulling out his cock, blushed at the tip before taking him into her mouth.

Yoongi intertwined his fingers into her hair, latching off the pins to let it flow prettily against his hand. He guided her mouth up and down his length. The warmth of her tongue sending waves of pleasure to his head, sending him to the edge quicker than he could control himself.

He pulled her up swiftly and kissed her.

Kiku straddled him with a sly smile as Yoongi untied her inner dress, pushing it down to expose her breasts. He suckled on one of her nipples, caressing the other. Kiku kissed the top of his head. She lifted herself up, positioning to the tip of his hardened cock and sliding down. They both moaned in tandem as her warm, sodden walls engulfed him completely.

As the slight ache passed, Kiku swayed her hips, feeling the tip of him touching deep inside her that pleasure bloomed like a tulip in morning light. She threw her head back, giving Yoongi the chance to kiss trails down her neck and chest.

Yoongi pushed her dress up, digging his nails in the skin of her back, encouraging her to move faster and she did.

With a fervour, she bounced on top of him, pushing them both to the height of pleasure as their skin began to sheen and heat with passion. Kiku let out a shaky moan before Yoongi pulled her for another kiss, catching whatever breath she let out so it belonged to him in this moment. And Kiku gave it to him happily.

She gripped the couch for balance as she targeted her own sweet spot, throwing her head back in ecstasy. A long needed pleasure that she had been deprived of for over two years.

At the sheer rush of speed and pleasure, Yoongi reached his climax. A flurry of bliss fluttered through him.

Gorgeous heat filled Kiku, making her fall forward, grasping him for dear life as she felt every drop of his release inside her. Hot breath heaved against his cheek.

Yoongi snuck his hand between her legs, rubbing at her clit until she peaked to her own orgasm, pulsing against his cock until the mess was slick on both their clothed thighs. Kiku let out a shaky whimper, pressing her forehead against his.

Yoongi kept rubbing until she jerked against his hand.

She pushed him away gently as the sensitivity began to twinge. “Stop, stop,” she whispered with a light chuckle.

Yoongi laughed breathlessly, kissing her jawline.

They stayed this way, calming their breath and stilling their trembles. Kiku hugging him closer, nose nudging against his.

Yoongi traced the edges of her hairline. “Do you have enough materials now?”

Kiku chuckled through her nose, kissing him. “Alright, you’re better.” 

masterlist

[jadedxhearts]

𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐋𝐚𝐰 𝐀𝐔 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬

Scenario 5: pillow... "activities"

Originally posted in summer 2023

Please note that this is an old work and isn't representative of my current writing skills!

This was a new low for Law. It was pathetic, humiliating, and disgusting. He’d always viewed doing things like this as gross, and now he was a hypocrite.

And to think this was all your fault.

Law had become so desperate for your touch, and yet due to still being a virgin, he was too scared to confess that he was ready. But the urge was growing stronger and stronger by the day, and it was becoming impossible to ignore what he wanted- needed. What he so desperately craved.

But his pride wouldn’t allow him to just talk to you. Asking you out all those months ago was one thing, something he was nearly too scared of doing. But to tell you he lusted for you? It sounded impossible.

So with Law’s stubbornness, combined with the sinful desperation he felt, he’d resorted to… this.

His hand wasn’t enough. He’d tried for an agonizing amount of time, but it didn’t feel like you. You were soft and plushy in some spots, something he’d always found so hot about you. Your thighs that he wished to lay his head between, among other parts he wanted to touch, was what he really wanted. But still, he was too scared to ask you. If his hand wouldn’t work, then, well, the closest thing he could get to compared your soft skin was a pillow.

It was late, everyone who wasn’t on duty was asleep by now, and you were on watch duty tonight- there was no reason for Law to be paranoid about somebody finding him in such a vulnerable state. He’d already thrown his hoodie off long ago, and now he’d shed himself of his jeans to get better access. Though he left his boxers partially on, so that in the event somebody walked in… he’d at least get some coverage.

It was wrong and filthy, but Law couldn’t help himself anymore. Your pillow was left on his bed, the scent of you still lingering on it. Feeling disgusted with himself, Law brought your pillow between his legs, trapping it between his thighs. Now sitting on it, his cock laid against it, pleasantly squished into the softness of the pillow. Slowly, he brought his hips backwards, gripping the pillow so tightly he might tear it. As he pushed forwards, Law let out a hiss, already feeling as though he could cum at any second.

The fact he was using your pillow like this, to get himself off on, was thrilling. Law could feel his face burning with shame, but it was too late to stop now. He repeated the action, continuously rolling his hips back and forth, pushing his hard, aching cock against the pillow.

Body shaking, Law sped his movements up and pressed as hard as possible into the pillow, heavy panting falling from his hung-open mouth. He thought about how shameful this was, he was so pathetic right now, fucking himself into your pillow. What would you think of this? Would you be mad? Or would you be turned on? Whatever the result was, the thought of you catching him caused his body to jolt, his hips twitching as he nearly came.

Letting out a quiet moan, Law bit down on his lip, trying to prevent anymore embarrassing noises from escaping. But his attempts were futile, as he cursed and whimpered, before he called out your name in a long, desperate moan.

“F-fuck, y/n…”

Feeling closer and closer to orgasm, Law thrusted into the pillow and rutted against it harshly, calling your name out more and more. His body burned as he humped your pillow, the nails of his fingers digging into the fabric. He was sweating, head filled with lewd thoughts about you. He whined your name again, voice breaking as his hips shuddered, he was going to cum all over your pillow.

“Law, what’re you up to, baby?”

Your voice shocked him, made his brain short circuit. You’d caught him. But instead of scattering to pull his boxers up and throw your pillow away from his body; he ended up thrusting into it once more, hot, sticky white seed spilling out of his cock. He cried your name, helpless, pathetic moans falling from his lips. His head hung backwards, his dark messy hair sticking to his forehead as his chest heaved, body trying to calm down from the intense orgasm.

You decided to approach him as he kneeled over your pillow, seeming too exhausted to hide from you.

Cupping the side of his face with one hand, you used the other to brush his hair away. With a smirk, you placed a kiss onto his wet lips, swallowing the now much more quiet moans that left him.

With a wet, loud pop, you pulled away from his mouth, strings of saliva sticking between the two of you. “Law, why didn’t you just tell me you were ready?”

“I-I was too n-nervous,” he stuttered, face now burning with embarrassment rather than lustful heat. “How l-long- were you… watching?”

You continued to smirk down at him, lustfully gazing at him as you ran a hand through his hair. “Just a couple minutes. But I enjoyed the little show. It was very hot.”

His eyes widened and he tried looking away from you out of shame, but you wouldn’t let him. Bringing his face back to yours, you kissed him again before saying;

“Why don’t you use me next time, though?”

[declareqenius]

all the ashes in my wake

summary: part two of "some would sing and some would scream". wanda and natasha have several heated conversations while they wait for you to wake up. it's been days and both of them miss hearing your voice, and they know the last thing you would want to see is them fighting, but wanda can't help tearing into natasha for everything that happened. natasha's guilt eats away at her.

warnings: mentions of the violence in pt 1, coma

a/n: guys i really just wanted to get this one out. i haven't read through it/edited it so any mistakes are... well, mistakes. but hey! we get wanda in this one! i feel like i could have gone a little darker as far as wandanat are concerned, but we do what we can! i hope you enjoy!

The infirmary room is cold and sterile and a heaviness settles over the exhausted woman. Wanda keeps hold of your hand as if letting it go means that you'll slip away for good. She's careful of the IV stuck in the back of your hand giving you fluids. In a way, it serves as a reminder that blood still flows through your veins and your heart still beats, and that even though your bright smile and musical laugh don't fill the room, you're still alive.

Wanda brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear. She doesn't know how many times she has done that in the past three days, but the gesture comforts her. Tucking your hair behind your ear so she can see your beautiful face better and looking into your sparkling eyes is one of her favorite things to do. Your gaze holds so much love and adoration and it always makes her wish she would never have to live without it.

Your eyes are closed now.

Wanda hates every second of it.

Bruce said that even if you don't respond that you can still hear everything. Wanda trusts that he's telling the truth and it wasn't something he said just to make her feel better.

So she talks to you. About anything and everything she can think of. Your favorite TV show that is on the air right now or the book that you recommended and she finally read. How much she loves you and how she can't wait for you to wake up. How sorry she is that she wasn't there sooner. She makes promises that she intends to uphold. Ones about revenge and torture and everything you would hate and tell her not to worry about were you conscious. Wanda smiles at the thought. She won't listen, though. The Celestials hurt her family. Hurt the love of her life. She can't let that go unanswered for.

Right now, though, you are her priority.

The door handle clicks and Wanda doesn't need to look up. She knows it's Natasha coming back from telling Steve and Yelena what happened. Can feel the exhaustion and guilt dripping from her without having to so much as glance in her direction.

"Wands-"

"I don't want to talk to you right now, Natalia. Sit."

Wanda nods to the unoccupied chair on the other side of the bed without taking her eyes off of you. She's being harsh and she knows it. Natasha was there with you. Right by your side. Made to watch as the leader of their enemies hurt you in the most sloppily calculated way. She was powerless against Najma and Wanda knows this, but all rationality left her when she burst into the cell and laid eyes on your bleeding body, slumped over, barely an ounce of life in you, and her anger nearly consumed her.

She almost leveled the entire block.

The only thing that stopped her was Natasha, carrying you in her arms, reminding her that time was scarce.

So yes, perhaps she is being too harsh with her wife, but somehow you had become their entire lives. Their reason for being. Neither of them would know what to do without you, and they came very close to losing you under Natasha's watch.

They will be okay eventually. They survived many fights and many arguments before you came along.

Tears form in Wanda's eyes.

"Yelena is wondering when she'll be able to see Y/N." Natasha's voice breaks the silence. It's rough and scratchy.

"After she wakes up."

Four words and Wanda can feel how they form on her tongue. Her Sokovian accent is thick with her anger and distress despite the words being spoken soft and firm.

"Wanda," Natasha starts to protest but the finality in her wife's tone makes her go quite.

"Nat."

It's then that Wanda decides to look up at Natasha. Decides to let her wife see her and every emotion that makes its way onto her face and every thought that swirls around in her mind.

Natasha pauses for a moment, taken aback by everything she sees her wife going through. The made-up scenarios. The what-ifs. She knows because she went through every last one of them when she was in that cell with you. To see the same thoughts cluttering Wanda's mind, well, it only makes her guilt worse.

She clears her throat, "Yelena is her best friend."

It comes out as more of a fact than an argument.

At that, Wanda turns her attention back to you, "I don't want anyone except for us and Bruce to see her like this. They don't need to."

"They want to know that she's okay, Wands."

"Tell them that she is. That she will be. That's all they need to know for right now. They need to focus on getting the jump on Najma and the Celestials. Our focus is Y/N. I think our family is capable enough to come up with a plan by themselves, don't you?"

Wanda's calmness is starting to make Natasha uncomfortable and she shifts in her chair. She refuses to touch you, though, afraid of what might happen if she did. Would your body crumble under her fingertips? If you were conscious would your body recoil at her touch? For letting you get hurt. For not protecting you like she should have.

Suddenly streams of tears silently make their way down Natasha's cheeks.

"I'm sorry I let this happen."

Wanda's eyes meet hers again and Natasha feels like she can breathe a little easier. It isn't perfect and she guesses it won't be perfect for a long time, but time will help. The fear will linger within both of them because Natasha knows Wanda almost as well as she knows herself, and she knows that neither of them will be letting you out of their sight for a while after you wake up. Until Najma is taken care of, at least.

Wanda tilts her head as she tries to get a better read on Natasha without using her powers. Even if they would help in the moment she has rules for herself: never on Natasha and never on you.

"They caught you off guard. It is a hard position to be in, radnaja."

Darling. The pet name helps Natasha relax a little more, but her hands stay folded in her lap.

"We needed- I needed to protect her better. We promised to keep her safe and I couldn't do that, Wands. I failed her and I disappointed you and... and what if she decides to leave when she wakes up? I would be the reason we came so close to losing her... and then to actually lose her? I don't know if we could survive it."

"Nat... Y/N loves us with everything she is. Just as we love her. I need you to be confident in that."

Natasha wants to scoff but instead she fidgets with her hands, "Confident? In what, Wanda? That she'll wake up and we'll pretend everything is fine and that we're not the reason she almost fucking died?! That the two people she loves most in the world couldn't protect her like they promised they would? I was powerless Wanda! I couldn't stop them! I-" Natasha's tears flow freely and although the tension in the room is building, she feels safe enough to let herself go in the presence of her wife, "I couldn't save her!"

"Natalia Romanova-Maximoff!" Wanda stands for the first time in hours but she does not drop your hand. It's the only thing grounding her right now. "This is not entirely your fault, radnaja. Maybe if you would have kicked and punched more when they took you then we would be in a different position. Maybe if you had given Najma the answers she was looking for then Y/N wouldn't have been injured as badly as she is but these are all what-ifs, Natasha! What if I had been there with her instead? What if I had been with both of you that night? What if I would have gotten to you sooner? What if she had died!"

Finally, the question that has been on both of their minds since Bruce had walked into the meeting room with your blood all over his neatly ironed button up and jeans- he didn't have time to even think about putting his lab coat on- and told them that you would eventually be okay.

"I have been asking myself that question every day for the past three days," Wanda finishes, salt on her tongue, nose red, and her scarlet hoodie stained with tears.

Natasha cannot find it within herself to tell her wife the new information Bruce gave her in the meeting. While he operated and stitched until he could barely stand any longer; you flatlined once. Your heart decided to give up for a minute and Natasha hasn't had the proper amount of time to process something like that, but the time would never come for Wanda to be able to process the reality of such a thing.

Both women stare down at you with puffy eyes and red noses. You are the most precious thing in the world to them. They hate seeing you so lifeless, and the only wave of hope keeping them afloat is your steady breaths.

The fight has left both of them, but an air of tension remains. They are nowhere near finished with their conversation. With taking their frustrations out. Hopefully they'll have everything figured out before you wake up. Natasha knows how much you hate playing peacemaker when they actually have fights and really get going at each other, but she also knows that her wife can hold a grudge.

She doesn't think Wanda will actually hold a grudge after you wake up, but for now her anger and grief towards Natasha are the only things emotionally anchoring her to reality.

"I miss her, Wands," Natasha sniffs and wipes the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

"Me too, Natalia. Me too."

They sit in silence for a minute, taking everything in. There are no windows in the room and during the day that means zero sunlight. You always say that time in the sun is one of the most important parts of your daily routine, and it always helps you cool down when you're stressed out or in a bad mood.

Natasha is the first to break the silence, speaking directly to you.

"You are going to hate this room so much when you wake up, detka," she muses with the smallest smile.

Wanda only glances at her before turning her attention back to you and sitting down in her chair, trapped in her mind just as Natasha is, but not all hope is lost and for that, the older woman is grateful.

"Believe it or not, she was the calm one. During everything."

"Natasha."

Her name is said softly although there is still a warning behind it, but she needs this and she believes that Wanda does too. Even if she doesn't know it yet.

"Please, Wanda."

Wanda just sighs and nods, never taking her eyes off of you.

"Najma had me struggling within ten minutes. Begged her to take me instead and to let Y/N go. I don't know why I thought it would work, but I think I just wanted Y/N to know that even if I couldn't get us out of there in that moment... I was trying. I would keep trying."

Natasha's voice is still scratchy as her exhaustion slowly catches up with her.

"Y/N was so firm with me. She said not to tell Najma anything and she meant it. I don't think I've ever heard her be that direct before, but she left no room for argument. She knew what the information would do to the family because she... she sees us as her family, Wands." The redhead sniffs and wipes at her eyes when her tears return, making a prominent trail down her cheeks.

"We are all she has left and she means the world to us! And... and I let her down so much. So, so much, Wanda. She stayed so calm! She did so good! She talked to Najma. She had a conversation with the woman who had a knife to her cheek!" Natasha's laugh is reserved, but her features are shock-ridden and amazed, bordering on flabbergasted and anxiety-filled.

Wanda finally looks up at her wife. Natasha is starting to spiral and there is no way to stop it other than just letting her get it all out, so the Sokovian keeps listening to and watching her wife. The recount of events is told with animated hand gestures and tears gliding down Natasha's cheeks, and Wanda's heart clenches.

"We were doing so well. She was doing so well. Then, Najma stabbed her and my heart dropped. I thought it was over. I thought we had lost her for good." The hand gestures come to an abrupt halt and the tension in the room is once again palpable, but not so much as before.

Natasha looks down at you with pleading eyes, "Please forgive me, malyshka," she drops to both knees and finally takes your hand in hers and whispers, "please."

She kisses the back of your hand delicately and you can feel each tear drop as they land in the exact spot she kissed. There is no need to wonder why your girlfriend is crying. You remember everything.

Your eyes slowly blink open to see Natasha's own eyes closed and Wanda staring at her wife with a thoughtful expression. The love they have for each other makes you want to smile, but the urge to reassure your sobbing mob boss girlfriend wins.

"I..." talking hurts but you need to say the words. Natasha needs to know! "Forgive... you. Always... Natty."

[pokimoko]

haunting the narrative -> haunted by the narrative -> haunting the narrative -> haunted by

[buckleydiazmp4]

not to get all "actually☝️" about it but. the whole point of this is the fact that it isn't at all eddie's fault and buck just doesn't know how to properly process or recognize his feelings and know what he's missing *until* he gets presented with a specific situation. in truth buck has no right to be mad at eddie for building bonds with other ppl and it's why he has to do some introspection. this is not a "oh no poor buck eddie apologize to him!!!" thing, it's about buck getting, for lack of a better term, a good emotional humbling. eddie deserves good friendships and relationships, full stop. and if he likes the way he feels when he hangs out with tommy then great!! he's his own person and not a tool to further buck's character. but you also can't expect buck to immediately recognize that because, again, and for the millionth time, the whole POINT is that he doesn't. so if it has to get ugly and uncomfortable and embarrassing for him to do so then that is what will happen and that doesn't make either of them bad people. this is not a blame to be passing around. it's just them being human beings

[lokh]

its sooo fun how dungeons reveal the psyche of the dungeon lord like. thistles dungeon was so planned and meticulous but so full of ghosts and unravelling at the end. mithruns dungeon was apparently so convoluted and 'made out of jealousy, lies, anger and inferiority'. marcilles dungeon was like.... that lmao, everything being brought to the same level with no real regard for what that might do to the ecosystem, and laios' dungeon ultimately ends up spilling out onto the surface. becoming one with it you might say

anyways if you were a dungeon lord what would your dungeon look like

[commandercoriandersalamander]

two dudes... sitting in a hot tub stone wolf... souls mingled into one complete being but they're not gay

[imissthembutitwasntadisaster]

stories where you think they're going to be a tragedy right up until the end and then they're not are soooo sexy *glances over to see if the Arcane writers are listening*