#sorry if this has been done already but it wouldn't leave my brain

[notkingyet2]

[acid-ixx]

I’m new, I just read your fic about neglect reader. I haven’t read through your blog yet but I am so excited after reading this fic. I am an emotional wreck right now and my curiosity is eating me alive with this question “Does reader know about Jason? Will they ever met? Ever have a platonic relationship together? Will Jason be more of a brother to reader?”

I’m sorry I speed through the fic and tears are in my eyes I couldn’t think straight BUT I notice that Jason is hardly there so I’m curious. Please this is such a brain rot, it’s way past midnight after I read this cause I keep stopping to cry.

major (?) spoilers below.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

hello anon !! im so happy ppl are getting more exposed to the content i have written so far. anyways, i can't believe i also got others to cry bec i did too when i was writing 😭

anyways, to answer ur question: yes! the reader will meet jason and he would actually be the first sibling you would meet after you have left the manor. the way he would turn yandere for you is a different approach to how the others would be because in the prequel, it has been stated that you had your fair share of encounters with him.

"will they ever have a platonic relationship with him/see him as a brother?" maybe, maybe not. because your meeting with him would all be a blur to you, and jason's obsession would stem from the trauma he had experienced, causing him to be more protective of you.

you're not in your best mindset and you're vulnerable walking through the streets of gotham and all alone? oh god, only a dumbass would do that— but once the red hood recognizes your face and the way you carry yourself so pitiably, he immediately tries to take you in his arms just as he should.

but the moment you push him away? tell him to fuck off despite your drunken state? the moment you cry and tell him you could deal with everything yourself without his help or anybody else's? you just remind him of himself and that triggers his first spiral into yandere-ism.

it's the way you share trauma, the way you both feel immense anger. he should've noticed sooner because you two would've been as close as peas in a pod. and yet he failed you by being a hypocrite. you were literally taken into the manor right after his death and discarded like you were mere trash. he should've taken you away when he had the opportunity to but he was too caught up in his feat of revenge.

yet the worst part was that he had taken notice of tim before he did you, and jason had momentarily hated you too because he thought bruce had replaced him. if he had looked through that veil of contempt that he had for you, and saw just how neglected and in need of attention you are, then he would've taken you under his wing.

but he didn't, and he had done the same thing to you as most did.

so take it as you will when i say you're more or less going to be closer (albeit unwillingly) to jason than anybody else because unlike his other siblings who are bound by their vigilante duties, your big brother jason wouldn't mind shooting any creeps who think they could touch his precious angel.

and he gets it, too, angel— you hate him, you hate them all and that's valid. but you can't just walk out in the streets alone and expect to be home in one piece; so leave it to him to scout your apartment alright? leave it to your big brother jason to intimidate the goons who try to stalk you when you're not looking. even if you don't want him near you, you'll always find warm food by your table and a note reminding you to take care of yourself more often.

it hurts when you rip the paper to shreds but it breaks his heart even more if you refuse to touch the meal he would leave for you, because that probably means you saw him as danger more than anything else. and he doesn't know it, but you're already planning to make a run for it now that you're under red hood's radar.

it's obvious that you have no experience when it comes to living by yourself, so please don't fucking push him away and let him protect you from any harm. your self destructive habits only causes him to become more protective of you and it only lets him stalk you more often to ensure nobody would touch his precious angel.

just like dick, you'll be treated more like a child than that of a young adult, but at least jason has the concept of personal space compared to your eldest brother. but still, jason wishes to hold you in his arms.

heaven forbid if the joker ever got his crummy fingers on you. jason would go berserk.

little does he know, little does your family know just how much they had lost the opportunity to keep you in wraps inside the manor.

they should've never let you out in the first place.

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍

body piercer!joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, modern au, no outbreak au

word count: 4.7k

summary: you finally go and get your nipples pierced.

warnings: reader has tattoos & has flat/small nipples which is the only physical description in this fic, nipple play, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, joel miller with a tongue piercing, lots of teasing, sexual tension, tattoo kink??? joel is really into them

a/n: this fic literally wouldn't exist if not for @swiftispunk's fic flesh and metal after reading it and screaming about it (and also reading articles about it) this fic was born, enjoy xx

special thanks to @johnwatsn for the beta! 💞

It’s late. The faint buzz of the neon sign is loud in your ears, taunting, mocking you for just staring inside instead of going in. Your face is illuminated with a red hue, the words BODY PIERCING burning into your irises. And despite the tacky neon sign, the inside looks quite clean. You would know, you’ve been stalking their Instagram page for a while now. 

There’s no one inside and you’re contemplating whether or not you should just get on with it. The idea of getting your nipples pierced had been a vague thought until recently. You desperately needed a change, you wanted something new and exciting. You wanted to feel sexy again. Your ex had certainly done a decent amount of damage to your self-esteem and that, plus your already low view of yourself, did not help your brain to see the good of you. 

So many things could go wrong, you’ve read multiple articles about it. Your body might reject the piercing, it might leave a scar, irritate it. . . 

G Suddenly, a brisk burst of frigid air gently caresses your cheeks, causing you to instinctively step back. Your gaze swiftly shifts from the interior of the shop to the door, where you notice that someone has just opened it, allowing the chilly air from the air conditioning inside to spill out.

Joel Miller, the shop's number one body piercer. Your cheeks burn, your pulse quickens, the sound of it flooding your ears. He’s tall and broad, his brown eyes staring at you with utter amusement. As you continue to just blatantly stare at him, he cocks his head to the side with a crooked smile. 

“I’m closin’ in half an hour, sweetheart. If you’re thinkin’ of comin’ in, I’d do it now.” 

“O–Oh,” you swallow thickly. “I can come back tomorrow if you’re closing up, sorry to bother you.” 

He raises an eyebrow, his smile falling, “Well, I didn’t quite say that, now, did I?” Come on in, darlin’. Tell me what you need.” 

Tell him what you need—your heart beats in your throat, the lazy drawl of his words going directly between your legs. You mentally curse at yourself. How touch-starved are you? He’s just being polite. You’re the customer, it would’ve been weird if he just shooed you away. 

Joel takes a step to the side, silently granting permission for you to enter. You stroll past him, making your way inside without uttering a word. The air conditioning is a blessing on your sweat-soaked skin. Even though you don’t have to, you briefly look at your surroundings. Just like your research had entailed, the shop was squeaky clean. 

“So,” Joel clears his throat. “What can I do you for, sweetheart?” 

Some part of you wishes that he could just understand without you having to form the words. You lick the back of your teeth, suddenly it’s very hard to breathe. 

“I. . . wanted to get my nipples pierced—if that’s okay?” 

“Of course, it is,” he smiles, much softer compared to his crooked smirk from before. “I’m Joel by the way,” he extends his hand and you take it with a sigh of relief, you feel much lighter now— 

“I know.” 

Your eyes go wide, both your hands stopping mid-shake. Joel’s amused glance is back again, his smile stretching into a grin, “You know?” 

“I mean—well, I did research before I came here,” you answer quickly, aggressively almost, and release his hand. His grin only wides, a puff of air escaping his nostrils. “So that’s how I know your name.” 

“Aren’t you the cautious one,” he turns on his heel and points towards the back. “If you’re set on what you want we can just head inside, I can explain the rest there.” 

“Sure.” 

Just as you both take a step you remember what you initially wanted to ask before going through with it and stop. Joel senses your lack of movement, turning around, you notice the furrow between his brow. “I actually wanted to ask something before we went on with it.” 

“I’m all ears.” 

Oh god, this is embarrassing, “So. . . my nipples are. . .flat—or is it more proper to call it small? I don’t know. Would that be an issue?” 

The glimmer in his eyes returns full force, his expression of worry melting away, “I’ve never met a nipple I couldn’t pierce,” he teases. “So no need to worry that pretty head of yours.” 

“Do you sweet talk with all your clients?” you ask, your lips twitching into a smile. You don’t know what it is, but you feel comfortable with him. Maybe it’s because you’ve been stalking his shop for so long. Either way, it’s a nice feeling. 

“Only with the ones that know my name before I meet them.” His eyes gradually move up and down your body, eating you up. His tongue darts out and swipes over his bottom lip. You notice the faint shimmer that belongs to a silver tongue piercing. “And the ones that’ve been starin’ into my shop for least an hour.” 

Joel takes a step closer and you feel your breath dissipating from your lungs. Dark, charcoal eyes sweep across your face. Your heartbeat is like a fearful hummingbird, hitting the bone cage in rapid succession. You swallow. By some miracle, you hold his gaze. 

“You ready to go, little rabbit?” 

All the tension drains from your bones and you burst out laughing, “Rabbit?” you giggle, your amusement only growing when you see his wide smile. “What the hell?” 

“There’s that pretty smile,” he hums, pulling back. Joel stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Now that you’re relaxed we can get to business. We can stop whenever, so don’t feel pressured when you’re in the chair. You can just leave.” 

You nod along as you follow him inside. You’re relieved when you see that it’s a spacious room with bright lighting that doesn’t irritate your eyes. 

“First things first, let's pick out the piercing.” Joel walks towards one of the small glass cases and pulls out one of the drawers. Your excitement builds as he presents them to you. “Any ticklin’ your fancy?” 

The light above gleams against the glass, there are so many and for a split second, you want them all. You never thought you would be labeling piercings as pretty. Looking them over, you decide you definitely want barbells instead of hoops. Now the question is which barbell one do you want? 

“So many,” you mutter, eyes scanning over them again and again. You see one that says ‘cum here’ on each heart-shaped barbell. There’s a couple of them that say different things; kiss here, bite me, lick me— a shudder rolls down your spine. Your mind instantly fills with indecent thoughts, most of them staring at the man still patiently holding the glass case. You bite the inside of your cheek. 

You bet he has the most skillful tongue—

“Oh, that one!” you exclaim suddenly, pointing at one in the shape of a heart. It’s decorated in shimmering rhinestones, the metal gold. When he inserts it, the heart would be framing your nipple. “It’s so cute.” 

“You like shiny things, huh?” he smiles. “You gotta good eye, it’ll look good on you.” 

Your breath catches in your throat, “Thanks.” 

“Now lay on the bed, darlin’.” 

It takes you a second to realize he’s talking about the piercing bed. You’re about to lay on it before he stops you with a raised hand. “Take off your top.” 

“Most guys buy me dinner first.” 

“Har har very funny,” he rolls his eyes but he’s smiling, which in return makes you lightheaded. The expression is like a drug and you want to see more of it. More and more and more. “Besides, if you have a flat nipple I’m gonna need to stimulate it.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Joel is unaware of your blundering, he arranges the fresh, disposable drape and sterile forceps, placing it on the small portable workstation, “If you’re uncomfortable with that I can use the suction device too,” he answers nonchalantly. You watch breathlessly as he pulls on his black rubber gloves and finally turns to you. He raises an eyebrow. “Why’s your top still on?” 

“I—I just wasn’t aware nipple play was involved.” 

“You do realize where you’re gettin’ pierced right?” his lips twitch up. “You’re not drunk, are you sweetheart?” 

“Very funny,” you answer, mimicking his tone from before. “But anyway, okay, I guess I’m just a bit nervous.” 

“Understandable,” you point towards the endless draws. “Want me to get the suction device?” 

“God, no,” you let out a low chuckle. “Your fingers are just fine.” 

“Never had any complaints before.” 

Your stomach jumps, arousal caressing your skin similar to a summer breeze. The darkness in his eyes is back, his gaze intense and nerve-wracking. 

“Will it hurt?” you mumble. 

“I ain’t gonna lie so yeah, it will.” 

“How much?” 

“Depends, really.” 

Your shoulders drop. 

“Mine didn’t hurt that bad, to be honest, but my pain tolerance is quite high,” he mutters to himself rather than to you. He follows up with another sentence, probably something to soothe your worry but your brain is locked on to something very specific he just said. 

“You have nipple piercings?” you ask incredulously. “Really?” 

“I do, though it was more of a bet kind of situation. My brother loooves causing me trouble,” he sighs and crosses his arms over the expanse of his chest. “But joke’s on him because I liked how they looked so I kept them.” 

“Can. . . Can I see?” 

“You gonna be a good girl and keep still when I pierce you?” Joel teases. You nod furiously, lips pressed tightly together. “A’right then.” He curls his fingers into the hem of his shirt and lifts it. Your eyes are glued to his chest—his entire torso. You see the way a soft trail of draw hair starts from his bellybutton and disappears under his jeans, you see the soft swell of his stomach, the muscle—your eyes move up, you finally see his nipples, pierced, just like he said, with silver barbells. You lean closer, your ass at the very edge of the piercing bed. 

Joel suddenly drops his shirt, hiding away, he shrugs, “Nothin’ fancy, but still, I like’em,” saying that, he takes a seat on his chair and sways a bit thanks to the wheels underneath.

“Do—” you lick the back of your teeth. “Do they make it more sensitive?” 

His smirk makes your heart skip a beat, “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he points to your shirt. “Now off.” 

Without a word, you peel off your shirt and unhook your bra. Joel’s eyes widen momentarily, his breath hitching at the sight of your bare torso. You’re confused for a moment. Surely, in his line of work, he’s seen many tits before— 

Then you realize he’s staring at your tattoos. 

You don’t have many, though you guess compared to others you do have many. Joel’s gaze lingers on your chest piece, two hands reaching towards each other with the sun and moon in between, decorating the dip between your breasts without going too deep. The blood rush of your body fills your ears, and your lips part with a gasp, his eyes instantly snap to your lips. You see the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. 

“Didn’t know you were tattooed, darlin’.” 

“You like tattoos?” you ask, your voice hoarse and barely there. “I have more on my back.” 

You swear his pupils dilate, “I’d love to see them after. If you’ll let me.” 

“Sure,” you answer with a weak smile. “I don’t see a reason not to.” 

He wheels closer, eyes dropping to your breasts. You look away. Your cheeks feel unreasonably warm despite the air conditioning running. Goosebumps blossom over every patch of skin. His mouth is too close, the warmth of his breath fans your chest, a pleasant tingle echoing over your breasts. 

You’ve always felt a bit awkward about your nipples. They always seemed silly compared to your breast size, especially when you started seeing other nipples. 

“I’m gonna touch you now,” he says softly, dragging you away from your thoughts. “I’m gonna massage it a bit to work it out, a’right?” 

You nod and hold your breath simultaneously. He does your right nipple first. Just like he said, he massages the flesh closest to your nipple, easing it out. It feels good, undeniably so. The pads of his fingers work delicately. Deep down you wish he didn’t have to wear the gloves. Your body aches for his heat, his bare touch on your naked skin. Joel pinches a bit hard and you flinch, he mumbles an apology. You don’t have it in you to tell him that it didn’t actually hurt, rather, it felt good. 

Soft whimpers threaten to escape your lips so you bite into the bottom one, hard. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to regulate your breathing with deep inhales. His thumb swipes over your, now hard, nipple. “There we go,” he says. 

You don’t open your eyes. Pain blossoms from the flesh of your lips, you feel them starting to swell. 

“Hey,” Joel’s hand cups the side of your face, then you feel his thumb easing out your lips from between your teeth. “You’re gonna hurt yourself like that. Are you okay?” 

How are you supposed to tell him that you’re just turned on? That this has been the most action you’ve had in months? 

“I’m okay,” you answer. His brows furrow in disbelief and you can’t really blame him. You let out a long sigh. “I’m fine, I promise. I just got a little worked up.” 

“Worked up?” His smile is back and in response, you want to bury your head in the sand. “What d’you mean?” 

His hand slides to your waist, squeezing it gently. You stick your bottom lip out. “You know what I mean.” 

“Hmmm, maybe,” his voice drips with cruel teasing, his thumb begins to draw lazy circles around your skin. You think he’s going to say something else but his gaze once again drops to your chest. “Looks like it disappeared, gonna need to work it out again.” 

You expect his fingers—maybe for him to pinch a bit harder this time. 

What you don’t expect, however, is his burning mouth on your cold skin. 

“Oh, fuck—” you gasp, your body instinctively arching towards him. He groans as a response, taking more of you into his mouth. His tongue flicks your peaked nipple. You feel his teeth nipping the tender flesh and you gasp once more, a sharp moan rattling in your throat. 

His eyes look up at you, momentarily he parts away, his lips are swollen, spit glistening at his lips, “This okay?” 

“Yes.” 

And he continues to devour you. 

Your fingers bite into the leather bed, he laps at the pebbled flesh, purposefully rubs the tongue piercing into it. The sudden hardness of metal makes you jump and then melt into it, he repeats the movement of his tongue again and again, swirling it until your thighs start to shake. His hands briefly move to your tattoo, thick fingers dancing along the ink. 

“So sensitive,” he murmurs, directing his attention to your other nipple. He flicks at it first then closes his lips around it. Your underwear is sticky with slick, your legs in constant motion to relieve some of the tension from your throbbing clit. He cups your mound, presses his fingers into your clothed slit. “Be patient, I’m gettin’ there.” He sucks on your nipple and teases the other with his fingers, pinching and pulling them. 

“Won’t be able to do this when we pierce them,” he growls, teeth sinking into your nipple, he flicks his tongue over it. “And you better not let anyone else touch’em too.” 

Your head falls back with a groan. He flicks his tongue again when you grind into his palm, the friction not enough to quench your need for him. You grip his shoulder, urging him to move back. He does. You immediately feel guilty at the worry crossing his eyes. 

You grip his shirt, slightly sliding it up his stomach, “Can I see how sensitive you are?” 

A brush of color spreads from his neck to his cheeks. You smile. Red looks good on him. 

He stands up, the chair wheeling away. Joel is quick to discard his shirt and you’re glad that the piercing bed makes it so that you’re in perfect tasting range. You spread your legs wider as he comes closer, taking his place between them. His skin touches your own, his warmth overwhelming yet welcomed. 

You kiss his neck first. Then his collar bone, you suck on his skin, teasing the sensitive flesh with your teeth. He shudders. Slowly you make your way down, your thumbs push at the pierced nipples and he moans behind gritted teeth. Smiling sweetly at him, you swirl your tongue around one, playing with the other. Your tongue moves over the bead of the piercing, you tilt it which in return twists the nipple. Another tremble overwhelms him, his body curling around you even further. The outline of his cock is prominent through his jeans, his body impulsively grinding against your stomach. You moan at the hardness, and he moans at the pressure. 

“Fuck, that’s nice,” he rasps, hips jerking. “But let’s take care of you now, I bet your panties are soaked, darlin’.” 

Fuck, it is. 

Joel drags his lips down your cheek, he kisses your neck slowly, the metal on his tongue forcing a shudder up your spine and making you curious about how it’ll feel on your cunt. 

“Want to eat you out from behind, sweetheart, wanna see those tattoos.” 

His hands are a constant on your skin as you hop off the bed and bend over, he helps you with your jeans, reaching around and unbuttoning it for you. The fabric suddenly feels too tight on your skin and you need to get rid of it—now. 

The harsh fabric pools at your ankles and you kick them away. His fingers play with the elastic of your underwear, pulling and twisting. The heft of him rubs between the crease, thick cock straining against his zipper. You expect him to take off his jeans too. Your piercer is full of surprises, though, and instead of doing the predictable thing, he continues to roll his hips whilst tracing the pads of his fingers over tattoos. 

“Fuck, they’re beautiful, sweetheart,” he mumbles. His touch is ticklish, yet arousing at the same time. More slick gathers at the fabric. You’re desperate for his touch. By the movement of his fingers you guess which of them he’s stroking. First, it’s the fox that stretches over your spine, beams of sun framing its face. Then it’s the smoke-like lines that are closer to your shoulder and the other one near your hip. Joel can’t seem to get enough of it. His palms are flat against inky skin, trying to feel the thought of you while you got them. 

You gasp at the touch of soft lips and soft tongue. He licks a slow line up your spine, tracing over the fox and sunlight. By pure instinct you bend over further, your breasts completely pressed against the leather. You’ve never been more glad to have tattoos in your goddamn life—he’s worshipping them, the figures that adorn your skin. 

His velvet tongue is replaced by sharp teeth, your back arches, ass pressing further into his clothed cock. Joel trembles and follows your eager movements with another tender bite. 

“I love them,” he mouths over the inky smoke near your shoulder. “I love feeling you, touching you. I could just do this for hours. You feel amazin’ against my skin, my sweet little rabbit.” 

This time you don’t laugh at the absurd nickname. His name drips from your damp lips like honey, sweet to say and sticking to your tongue. 

His hand dips between your legs and his mouth moves down to your ass, he kisses the plump flesh as two fingers stroke you from over the fabric of your underwear. His groan reverberates on your skin, teeth skimming the flesh, “Fuck, you actually are soaked,” Joel hums and slips them under, gathering you around his fingers. “All this for me?” 

“Yes,” you gasp, raising your hips. “P-Please—”

Joel shushes you, “I know, sweetheart, I know,” he gets down to his knees and as he does, a small grunt leaves his lips. 

“Are you okay?” you ask. 

“Just fine,” he kisses your pussy and you’re instantly melting towards his mouth, a groan ripping from your throat. “A sacrifice I’m willin’ to make.” 

Joel doesn’t give you the chance to reply or offer to change positions, he slides your panties to the side, licking into you hungrily. You shudder and your upper body jolts, forming the perfect arch. He presses deeper. Licking and teasing your clit with the tip. He cups both sides of your ass and gives them a gentle smack. Your eyes roll at the mild pain, your slick coating his lips, tongue, and chin. The rough hairs of his beard chafe your skin, only adding to the pleasure. 

“Taste so good, beautiful,” Smack. “Gonna fuckin’ ruin you, make you come until there’s a goddamn puddle on the floor.” 

“Oh god—” you choke on air, a moan locking in your throat the same time you’re trying to gasp for air. His words and the swirl of his tongue are downright sinful. He flattens his tongue and parts your folds with the soft muscle, teasing your entrance. 

Joel pulls you back against him, his lips teaching your clit, your jaw drops, a jolt of pleasure rushing through you and tightening your nipples. It’s filthy, that’s all you can think. If someone walked through those doors right this instant, they would see his face between your cheeks, drinking from you like a man dying of thirst. 

Your head drops, mouth flooding with saliva, you roll your hips; begging, asking for more. He gives it to you. Two thick fingers slide into you with ease, his mouth leaving wet open-mouthed kisses on your ass. 

“Gonna come for me?” he asks, voice full of gravel. “Come on, give it to me, let me see how your pussy throbs, sweetheart.” 

He curls his fingers and you imagine him smirking as he breaks you apart. You cry out his name, your entire body shuddering as if lightning struck it, “That’s it, that’s it, that’s it. . .” He continues to thrust his fingers in and out, you feel yourself dripping, imagine yourself making a puddle just like he asked for. “Give it to me, honey. You’re fuckin’ beautiful, look at you. . .” 

Joel spreads you with his fingers and delves back into you, he draws circles around your clit, his jaw constantly moving with every lick. He doesn’t stop until he’s coaxing another orgasm out of you—your head fills with bliss, your body lifeless. 

When he’s done feasting, he slowly gets up with his hands sliding to your back. He leans down to pepper more kisses onto your tattoos, your skin tingling and singing at the contact. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmurs, lips sucking at your neck. “Then let’s get those pretty nipples pierced.” 

“W—What about you?” you ask breathlessly. 

Joel helps you sit back up on the bed, you part your legs so he can come closer, he accepts the invitation with a wide smile, “I have a feelin’ we’ll be seein’ more of each other, sweetheart. You can make it up to me then.” 

Your heart skips a beat and your lips part. 

You have a strong feeling that he’s right. 

With gloved hands, Joel carefully opens a sterile needle package. You watch with rapt attention as he takes out the fresh needle, inspecting it. Your body is still thrumming with pleasure, your head still swimming in a daze. All you can hear is his breathing.

He had already walked you through everything while preparing for the procedure. No touching, no swimming. You had to clean them softly in the shower and that was meant to be the only source of water your nipples touch for a while. If there was any irritation or marks, you were to reach out immediately. 

Honestly, you found it cute that he’d gotten so serious all of a sudden. It was nice to see him so professional too, so competent. 

He comes closer and your body seizes. You hold your breath. With a sudden need to distract yourself, your eyes linger on to the walls. Your brows furrow in surprise when you notice the tattoo designs. You thought this was only a piercing shop. 

“You do tattoos too?” you ask nervously. 

“My brother does,” he answers. “He works the tattoo side of the business and I do the piercings.” 

“It’s nice that it’s in the family. . .” 

“Sweetheart, I know what you’re doin’. You’ll be fine I promise.” 

“Okay. I trust you mister man-I-just-met.” 

He grins, “You didn’t seem to have a problem with it ten minutes ago.” 

“Touché.” 

Joel prompts you to lay on the piercing table, he approaches you with a reassuring smile on his face. You can feel your heart racing as you nervously anticipate the pain of getting your nipples pierced, you imagine the worst, your heart beating in tune with your fear. 

He carefully cleans the area around your nipples and marks the spot where the piercing will go. He double-checks the placement with you to ensure you're happy with it. You give a slight nod, still feeling a bit apprehensive.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs. “It’ll only hurt for a second.” 

With steady hands, Joel takes the needle. You feel a sharp pinch as it punctures through your skin, but the pain dissipates quickly. You let out a small whimper, “It’s okay, it’s okay, just a bit more,” he comforts you and you nod with a long exhale. 

After the needle is through, he quickly follows it with the jewelry, securing it in place. You watch in awe as he attaches the beautiful barbells to your nipples, the adrenaline and endorphins making the pain feel less than it is.

Once the piercings are in place, Joel gently cleans the blood before you can get a look.

“Aaand done, tell me what you think.” 

You’re surprised that he has a mirror in hand when you sit back up. Your gaze finds your reflection and an instant smile spreads across your face. 

“You like’em?” he asks, his tone shy. 

“Like them?” you gasp. “I love them! Thank you!” 

“Oh that’s a relief,” he leans back into the chair, slightly rolling away with a relieved smile. “No matter how many times I do it, I still get nervous.” 

“I definitely love them,” you say, you get up to wear your shirt but end up wincing at the sharp pain. You look at Joel between squinted eyes. “When did you say the pain would stop again?” 

“It’s gonna take a while,” he answers with a sympathetic smile. “You don’t know how much your nipples touch stuff until you get’em pierced.” 

“Well, at least they look good.” 

He shoots you a wink, “They sure do, little rabbit.” 

“That nickname is still ridiculous.” 

“Should I remind you that the last time I used it you came on my tongue?” 

“Nope no reminder needed,” you put your shirt back on, smiling. “I’m still going through the aftershocks.” 

“Good,” he stands with you, hands on your waist, he pulls you as close as he can without your nipples touching his chest. “So, you wanna go out?” Joel’s gaze drops to your chest and he licks his lips, “Gotta make sure you’re takin’ care of them properly.” 

“My hero.” 

[redroomreflections]

Before She Cheats Part 4 - The Final Part

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha attempts to talk with Cara after she and R break the news they're divorcing.

The Loud House Universe

note: more angst

Before she cheats part 4

w/c:2k

It's night now and Cara hasn't come out of her bedroom. You'd put the children to bed separately and now it was time to say goodnight. You didn't bother saying anything to Natasha. You headed into your office, softly closing the door behind you, to get an ounce of alone time. Natasha stood at the top of the stairs, debating whether to go up there and talk to Cara. She's not sure how to fix this. She's not sure how to make things better between them. She understands it. Truly she does. Cheating on you wasn't something she did intending to hurt you. Although, the alternative would have been better. The children's reactions to what she'd done would be forever etched into her brain.

Finally, with a deep breath, Natasha makes a decision. She won't just leave Cara without saying goodbye. She trails up the stairs, her heart heavy, before she walks over to the bedroom where light is still shining underneath the hinges.

Natasha knocks, but Cara doesn't respond.

"Cara, honey?" Natasha's voice is small. She opens the door, finding the teen curled up in her bed with her headphones in. Natasha can't help but smile at the sight of her daughter. Even through her anger and frustration, her baby is still here. Cara doesn't move. She's not asleep yet. It's like she can feel her presence in the room.

"I don't want you here," Cara says dejectedly. Her eyes never look up from the book she's been reading. As a spy, it's in Natasha to notice she hadn't been reading at all. She's simply staring at the pages, not absorbing anything.

"I know," Natasha admits. "But, I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye."

"Goodbye," Cara spits.

"Cara,"

"Goodnight, Natasha," She corrects.

"It's Mama,"

"No, it's not," Cara shakes her head. She finally puts the book down and meets Natasha's eyes. "You're not my mom anymore. My mom wouldn't do what you did. She wouldn't betray our family."

"Cara,"

"Leave me alone," Cara asks. She pulls the blankets up a little further.

"I know you're angry..." Natasha begins. That's where she fumbles. What is she supposed to say? How is she supposed to make this up to her? To the other children. To you?

"I don't wanna hear anything you have to say," Cara rolls over, facing the opposite way.

"I know,"

"Then leave."

"I'm not leaving without saying goodbye," Natasha shakes her head.

"You already said it," Cara shouts. She's mindful that her siblings may be sleeping. "I told you I don't want to talk about this anymore. Why can't you just respect that?"

"Cara, I'm sorry," Natasha offers. She knows it's not enough.

"You're a fucking cheater," Cara accuses.

"I know," Natasha's eyes water.

"You don't even care," Cara frowns. "I want you to go. Go, get out of my room." Cara stands and for a moment, Natasha doesn't recognize the child she's looking at. Cara has a history of outbursts and minimal violence, but it's never been directed towards either of you.

"Cara, no, stop," Natasha warns.

"Go."

"I'm not going anywhere." Natasha's voice raises. She takes a deep breath and tries again. "We aren't fighting."

"What if I want to?" Cara sizes her up.

"Don't," Natasha shakes her head.

"Mom wouldn't let you just walk away like this,"

"Mom isn't here," Natasha points out.

"She's downstairs," Cara nods.

"I know," Natasha nods again. "Tell me what you're feeling. I can take it."

"I hate you," Cara spits.

Natasha remains silent. Even when Cara's words are followed by rough pushes against her body. She doesn't back down. She also doesn't allow Cara to hit her either.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you," Cara shouts. "You fucked some random chick and ruined everything."

"Cara, that's enough," Natasha tries.

"You made my brother cry," Cara shouts.

"I know,"

"You made Charlie have an anxiety attack," Cara's voice raises. "She's too little. She can't handle stuff like that."

"I'm aware." Natasha's jaw clenches.

"You did that. You did that. You did that," Cara begins to repeat. "You did that." She shoves her mother again and again. She pushes her and Natasha lets her. "You did that." Cara slams her fists into Natasha's chest. Natasha lets her.

"Mom wouldn't just let me punch her," Cara says.

"What do you suggest I do? If it's making you feel better," Natasha weighs the options. "Is it making you feel better?"

"No," Cara shakes her head. She steps back and takes a deep breath. Her shoulders heave and her eyes are red. Tears pour down her cheeks. For a moment, Natasha can tell she wants to apologize but she holds it in.

"You're so mean," Cara cries.

"I know."

"You ruined everything,"

"I did," Natasha nods.

"I hate you," Cara crosses her arms over her chest.

"I know,"

"Stop saying that,"

"You are entitled to your feelings. You have a right to feel how you feel," Natasha tells her. "You have a right to be angry and you have a right to express your anger."

"What if I don't want to," Cara asks. "What if I don't want to fight you? What if I just want you to go away and never come back?"

"I can't do that,"

"Well, I can't forgive you." Cara frowns. "You hurt my mom. You broke her heart. I can see it. I've seen it all week and I didn't say anything but you made her different. She's not the same. You're not the same to me."

"What can I do?" Natasha tries.

"Nothing," Cara shakes her head. "There's nothing. You did this. I don't want you in my room anymore."

"Cara, wait,"

"I want you to leave."

"I'm not leaving until you calm down," Natasha reasons.

"I am calm."

"This isn't calm." Natasha looks her over.

"I'm calm," Cara repeats. "I'm calm. I'm calm. I'm calm." Cara begins to pace with her fists balled up. "You won't even listen to me."

"Of course, I'm listening,"

"You're not. You're just gonna stand there and let me yell at you."

"You can't yell at your mom," Natasha reminds her. "I know you, Cara. If you're not directing it at me it will go to her and she doesn't deserve that."

"You don't get to decide what she deserves," Cara shakes her head. "You threw all of that out of the window. Unlike you, I would never hurt her."

"Cara,"

"That's what she is now. My mom. Mine. She's nothing to you. You have no claim on her. You gave that up when you cheated."

"I'm still her wife."

"You don't deserve her. You're disgusting. You're a terrible person."

"You're right,"

"Stop saying that," Cara shakes her head.

"Okay,"

"Get out,"

"I can't do that."

Cara lets out a throaty scream from deep within her. It's an angry scream.

"I'll give you some some space on one condition," Natasha relents.

"I want space," Cara nods.

"You have to promise not to hit or yell at your mother."

"I told you I wouldn't you don't listen," Cara whines. She seems so much smaller now.

Natasha makes the slightest movement to leave and Cara is ranting again.

"You promised I was safe here," She began. "You promised me we were a family. When I got adopted you promised so many things and you just lied about it all."

"That's still true," Natasha assured her. “I didn’t lie.”

"How could you just throw us away? Do you not love me?"

"I love you very much,"

"Then how could you hurt Mom and me and James and Charlie and Luke and Paige," Cara demands. She defeatedly sits atop her bed. She truly doesn't understand. She's a child.She’s still a child that wants her family. 

"I can't fix it,"

"No, because you did it."

"Yes,"

"You can't fix it because you're a liar. You're a bad person."

"I am," Natasha agrees.

"Get out,"

"Okay," Natasha relents. She turns to leave, walking back towards the door. She didn't want to leave her like this. She knew it wouldn't get better. Natasha turns to find you in the doorway. Your face is free of makeup and freshly washed. Your eyes are slightly red but you look serene and calm. How much of this had you heard?

"I can stay if you need,"

"I said leave," Cara cries.

"Cara," You take a deep breath and slowly step into the room.

"Mom, can you get her out of here," Cara pleads. "I don't want her here anymore." Natasha moves to hold onto her. She truly doesn't want to leave her like this.

"Natasha, you've done enough," You warn.

"Okay," Natasha nods. "I will be at the compound. I will come tomorrow to take the kids to school."

"We don't need you," Cara's voice cracks.

"I understand," Natasha says. "But I will still be here for you."

"Fuck off," Cara shouts. 

This time Natasha listens. She walks out of the room and out of your life. Not for good. No, she'd be back. She loves her children too much to leave them. Even after Cara has begged her to go. You redirect your attention to Cara. "I want it to stop hurting. I hate her."

"I know, baby," You grab a hold of her and pull her into bed to sit beside you.

"How do I make it stop?"

"I wish I could tell you," You kiss her forehead. "I need you to calm down. I know you're upset. We can talk about all of it, but I need you to calm down."

"How are you okay? She cheated on you. She broke up our family." Cara presses her face into your chest. She needs that extra comfort.

"I know, sweetheart," You stroke her hair. "I'm not okay. Trust me, I'm not. For you, for your sisters and brothers, I have to be. Eventually, it will hurt less."

"Do you promise,"

"It won't go away, but it will get easier," You tell her. "I will always love her. That will never change. It's going to be okay."

"Why aren't you mad?" Cara wonders.

"I'm furious," You assure her.

"Then why did you let her in here?"

"Because she wanted to say goodbye,"

"She doesn't deserve to,"

"I know," You soothe her with a kiss on her head.

"What are we gonna do?"

"Whatever you guys want,"

"Why don't you hate her too?"

"I don't think I ever could," You confess.

"Why?"

"You can't choose who you love," You tell her.

"If you could go back in time, would you still love her?"

"I would," You hesitate. "It brought me you. It brought me the others. It brought me so much happiness. It gave me my life."

"Even if you knew she'd hurt you?"

"I don't know," You shake your head.

"I wish she didn't do that," Cara wipes her tears away. "Sex is so confusing. Sex is supposed to be with someone you love. I know I don't know everything but it's supposed to be all of these things and she just did that with some random woman and..." Cara sniffles. "I don't understand any of this. I don't understand it but I don't want to see her. I'll take the train to school. I don't want to be around her."

"I won't force you," You reply.

"She's not my mama," Cara shakes her head. Her tears flow down her cheeks.

"She's still yours, baby,"

"She's not."

"She is," You argue. God, you hate yourself for defending her right now. "She is and she loves you. Whatever is happening between us isn't on you to figure out or hurt over. You can be angry but I don't want you to harbor this."

"How are you not mad at her?"

"I am,"

"But,"

"It doesn't make sense to you. It's okay. I need you to believe me when I tell you this," You press a kiss against her forehead. "Your Mama loves you."

"She doesn't."

"She does," You insist.

"Can we not talk about her," Cara sniffles.

"That's fine, baby," You wrap your arms around her, pulling her as close as possible. You could only hope that Natasha is satisfied with the lives she shattered. 

[manicpixiefelix]

he wanted to be in love (but you got in the way) // epilogue

{ head, heart, hand. masterpost }

Summary: Oliver is haunted by what he's done to get his happy ending in Felix's arms. His guilt is only made worse when he meets the first member of your family to actually remind him of you. Unfortunately, he does not find it to get better from there.

{ context; please read he wanted to be in love (but you got in the way) first }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons. YOU ARE ALREADY DEAD IN THIS ONE, but you do get to haunt the narrative. congratulations?

Warnings: discussions of death/overdose, lots of guilt, manipulative oliver, felix being upset, vaguely unhealthy oliver/felix, lotsa angst, oliver quick reckoning with the sunk-cost fallacy.

A/N: 6828 words. first, i don't usually do part 2s when i say something is a oneshot, so this is a rare occurrence. secondly im sorry this is almost 7k there's something wrong with my brain i think. thirdly bro, bro, listen to me; ANGST. HURT NO COMFORT. HURT NO COMFORT. it's soft in the middle THE SOFTNESS IS A LIE. ITS GONNA HURT ALL THE WAY DOWN (apart from nana i love her nd i hope you will too)

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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One hour and fifty three minutes.

Rounded up, because all things considered, he should round it up, that's two hours.

Two hours. Like the blink of an eye in the scope of a whole life. But a very long time when you sit and count it out.

One hundred and twenty minutes. Seven thousand, two hundred seconds. He's always counting two hours, seeing exactly how long it feels like, how he can fill that amount of time. Seconds pass like a steady heartbeat.

He can do a lot in two hours.

Oliver tries to occupy himself nowadays more than ever, and really tries not to be alone, but it's hard. Farleigh left for Oxford. Venetia, before she decided to backpack across Europe and find herself, wouldn't let anyone touch her anymore.

Oliver doesn't like leaving Felix alone, but sometimes he has to be. You're laying cold in a family crypt somewhere next to a grandfather you never knew, and while Elspeth and Sir James don't comment on it, they both scowled when your parents sprung the announcement on everyone at the funeral.

Felix spends a lot of time alone at the edge of the maze. He's making a fairy garden where you had waited. Sometimes he'll drive into town without telling anyone, and come back with quaint, second-hand miniatures to add. It's beautiful, shining with greens and golds when the setting sun hits it just right.

So Oliver finds time to occupy himself, when he's alone and all he can think about is you sitting by the maze. You laying by the maze. You alive when he'd run from the maze. And the two hours that followed.

Sometimes he leans out of his window and shouts to the gardeners so far away they look like ants; even at this distance, his voice carries, and he sees them turn, search for him, ask if he's okay. He is, and he apologises, and he think about how far his voice carries.

On occasion, out of the blue, he'll lift Felix up when he hugs him, able to get his feet off the ground as Felix wriggles and clutches him out of surprise. Of course Felix lifts him with ease in return, spins him around, but that's not the point. Oliver is stronger than he looks; he wonders if he could lift you, could carry you far, if he could have dragged you if it had come to it.

Some nights he wakes up in a fright, your rapid heart rate beneath his fingers and he swears he could hear you whispering for help amid your shallow breathing. Please. Pleading. Begging. You were alive when he'd left you. He presses two finger to Felix's pulse point beside him, and tries to calm his breathing, to focus on Felix's slow, steady heartbeat.

And some days he sneaks into the computer room and curses how long webpages take to load when he looks up statistics on overdoses. Symptoms. Niche forums where he can learn what it felt like from survivors. People luckier than you. Their words, their stories, the recollections of those horrifying sensations stick with him, even as he diligently erases any trace of his browsing history.

And he thinks about how fucking long two hours is.

"Nan's coming over later," Felix tells Oliver idly one Sunday afternoon, "we're having tea of you'd like to join us." They're laying out in the grass, Oliver in the grass finding shapes in the clouds, Felix on his side, chewing on the stick of a lollypop he'd finished an hour ago and gently tracing abstract patterns on Oliver's chest.

"I thought you said your granny haunted Saltburn," when Oliver looks at Felix, he still can't help the way his heartrate picks up. Felix Catton touching him in the most gentle, caring way; he'd never stop feeling lucky for getting here, and never forget what he did to earn it.

Felix's gaze moves with his fingertips, up Oliver's warm, bare chest, twisting two fingers in the delicate chain around his throat. He looks pensive; but shakes his head after a beat.

"Different nan," he says distractedly, plastic straw trapped between his teeth. He tugs the chain experimentally, like he's forgotten it's attached to Oliver at all. He's in his head again; Felix is always in his head nowadays, but there's still often echoes of who he was, echoes of what Oliver has fallen for in the first place.

And he's finding himself falling more and more for this version of Felix too. So he tell himself that it was all worth it.

"Love," all these pet names - Love, Darling, Sweetheart - because if he slips up, tries to call him Fi, Oliver knows he'll only get ice in return, "is everything okay?" Oliver carefully reaches up to cover Felix's large, warm hand by his throat with his own. Felix meets his gaze, and gives a faint smile, an attempt to reassure him when he says he's fine. It doesn't work, but Oliver lets it go, and lets Felix tug him in by his chain for a kiss.

"Tea sounds lovely," Oliver murmurs against his lips.

There's something about this visit has Felix alive and buzzing the he way he hasn't in a very long time. Still he's quiet, but his eyes are bright as he follows behind the staff members setting up tea and biscuits in the garden. He goes through all the DVDs the family has and picks out a stack he thinks would be suitable, making sure they're all perfectly stacked by the DVD player. Oliver floats along behind him, and simply allows himself to admire Felix's energy.

Still, Felix finally takes a moment to breathe right as it becomes noon, and decides to have a bath to freshen up before his guest's arrival; two hours before she'd be here, Felix reminds him.

Two hours.

Oliver feels drawn to his own room. He doesn't allow himself to be alone in Saltburn often anymore, doesn't like the thoughts that crop up when he does. Perhaps it's a kind of punishment, a painful reminder, penance for what he's done.

There's a scrap of paper that he keeps tucked in a book in his nightstand, his own handwriting stuffed amongst a collection of Edgar Allan Poe's short stories, words he'd clung to and scribbled out the minute he'd gotten the chance so he'd never forget them exactly.

From the coroner's report, according to Duncan and Sir James. Time of Death; around 2am. Cause; narcotics overdose, and there were signs of alcohol poisoning.

On the back, he'd written '12:07'.

"Mum and dad both say it was a tragic accident," Felix's voice in the dead of night, the night they'd gotten the full report, riddled with guilt and unspilled tears, betrays his disbelief regarding the sentiment. Felix doesn't talk about how his last words to you were shouted with anger. Felix doesn't talk about how your last words to him were a desperate plea for him through tears. Felix doesn't think that it was an accident; only Oliver knows that he's almost right, just not in the way he thinks. Or dreads. But he has to bite his tongue on the truth, and let the man he loves live with this unjust guilt.

The water starts loudly draining for the tub, and Oliver isn't sure how long he's been sitting on the edge of his bed with his eyes squeezed so tightly shut, but he scrambles to stuff the page back into the book, and toss it back into it's drawer. He can smile again, and admire whatever outfit Felix chooses for the rest of the day, and pretend like he doesn't feel your rapid heartbeat or hear your shallow breathing every time he touches that paper, like he had the night he left you.

With the hour drawing ever closer to two, Felix keeps checking his watch. The minute he deems it to be time, he gives up all pretence of small talk - which had been another thing severely lacking as of late - and snatches Oliver's hand, pulling him through the house. They even outstripped Duncan and the footmen by the door when there comes a firm knock. Its the only time Oliver has ever seen any of the Cattons open the doors for themselves.

And it's not Felix's grandmother.

"Hi, nan," Felix sounds so genuinely happy as he hugs the older woman at the door with a warm smile and your eyes.

Oliver feels like he's frozen, like he's seeing a ghost. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Duncan actually standing aside, giving Felix and your grandmother a quietly fond smile.

"I swear you get taller every time I see you, oh, my lovely boy," she says with a warm laugh that sounds so damn familiar, "or maybe I've been shrinking, you get to my age and people tend to do that," and Felix laughs, actually fucking laughs. Oliver realises it's been a long time since he'd heard Felix give a proper laugh like that. As the hug ends, Felix let's her tuck her arm in his as she continues, "just you wait, one day you'll only be six-foot tall." Another laugh, and Oliver can see how genuine and broad he's smiling, how his eyes shine when their gazes meet. She's surprisingly sprightly for her age, it seems. Oliver recognises your grandmother from your funeral, but hadn't made the connection at the time, so he's surprised when Felix goes to introduce him and her eyes sparkle with recognised.

"Nan, I don't know if you've been properly introduced, but this is -"

"Your Darling, Oliver," and it's said with such warmth; her hug feels almost like home, "you strange, little thing," she laughs, "it's called a hug; are you not a hugger? I should have asked," but she doesn't apologise, nor does she let go for a few more beats. Oliver gives into this moment, closes his eyes tightly and hugs her back.

"Our Darling Oliver," Felix echoes with such admiration, and when Oliver opens his eyes, it's the first time since you'd passed where his gaze has held only the love and pride Oliver had been craving since he'd first laid eyes on him.

Once Nana - she'd insisted Oliver call her that too - lets him go, she tucks her arm in his, and is waving Felix over to her other side, briskly asking where tea was to be held. Duncan leads the way and she fawns over him too, apparently downright overflowing with love for Saltburn and everyone and everything in it. She talks more than she doesn't, but considering who Oliver is and who Felix has become, that suits them both just fine.

It's been too long since they've had tea together, she insists, and doesn't talk about why exactly that would be. She doesn't bring you up, not while you were all making your way through the house, but once she's settled outside, she takes a moment. The way she looks at Oliver in this moment makes him queasy; the smile, that look in her eyes, the way her gaze takes all of him in. A woman, whose time is so precious to her, taking her time to make him feel seen. Felix is quiet, intrigued by the exchange.

Your phantom heart beats beneath Oliver's fingertips.

"You're Y/N's grandma," Oliver says quietly, breaking the tension. Present tense still, they all play pretend. She smiles, and finally leans back. The moment is broken; Felix pours them each a cup of tea. Nana takes a jammy dodger and looks over the gardens with a smile.

"Of course, dear," she says sincerely, taking a bite of the biscuit, but being so eager to talk that she spoke through half a mouthful, "and when they were thirteen they told me I was Felix's grandmother too, because they'd overheard Felix's mum talking about how she hoped they'd get married some day." Felix snorted a laugh at that, turning pink around the ears as he prepared everyone's tea, as if on autopilot.

"Does that -" Oliver begins awkwardly, but he tries to smile, "do you think in time, they would have ask the same of you about me?"

"Considering how they spoke about you," there's a twinkle in your Nan's eyes as she turns back to him, smile knowing, "there's absolutely no doubt in my mind, my dear." All you had ever done was love him; love him and stand in the way of the love he desperately craved.

Oliver watches his tea for a long while, spinning the ornate cup on its matching saucer, while your Nana almost immediately picked hers up and took a tentative sip. Watching out of the corner of his eyes, Oliver notes the way her face goes on a journey of emotions, from pleased, to confused, to a sudden realisation as she looks to her cup.

"I should have asked you how you liked your tea," Felix realises too late, apology in his voice as Nana puts her cup down with a forlorn, yet fond look.

"No, darling, it's nice to know you know how my grandchild liked their tea," and she holds her cup delicately, looking into it's warm, brown depths, "just the same as I always made it for both of us when they were much, much younger."

"I am so sorry to ask," Oliver hears himself blurt out, unable to help himself, "but how does all this love just skip a generation?" It comes out far worse than he intends it to; he means to ask how someone so loving as you come from parents so uncaring, yet how did either of those parents turn out the way they did when the woman in front of him was clearly bursting with just as much love as you had been. Thankfully, instead of being offended, your grandmother laughs.

"My daughter is a wonderful, intelligent, compassionate, impressive woman," she begins, but sighs with unmistakable disappointment, "but my late husband was never capable of even trying to be a father over pursuing his own interests, and it's one of the few traits she actually inherited from him," she shook her head, "and she went on to fall in love with a man who loved her but suffered from that exact same defect," after a beat, she looked up with a warm, reassuring smile, "it's why I love Y/N so fiercely, and so hard," her grin turns soft and adoring, looking between the two boys before her, "the only way my daughter has ever disappointed me is as a mother, but I will never be disappointed in Y/N as my grandchild."

Oliver knows there's tears in his eyes, and Felix has ducked his head. Immediately Nan begins apologising, realising she'd set both of them off. Despite this, Oliver tries to wave her away, insisting it's fine, before he asks about her; he's heard bits and pieces he thinks, but Y/N had always been so cagey about their family. Honestly he's surprised that your grandmother knows so much about him when he feels like he's barely heard about her.

Despite turning out to be an incredibly decorated artist, with paintings selling for more than Oliver's pretty sure his own family's house is worth, your Nana is quick to downplay her own successes, simply insisting that it took decades of hard work. Again, he sees you in her eyes.

"We've got a few up around the house," Felix adds, "most of them actually from before we even met Y/N," and your Nana gives him a shove, as if flustered and embarrassed by the idea. But Felix is beaming, happy to be showing off her accomplishments, just as he always took joy in celebrating you; "there's one in your room."

"What?" Oliver asked, and your grandmother also seemed surprised, though touched by the thought.

"It used to be their room, actually, but Ollie moved in there, so Y/N was staying with me," he explains a little awkwardly, wanting to skim around as many implications as he could. Thankfully she doesn't comment. All she asks is which one. Felix and Oliver both think about the room; Felix about the few pieces of art on the walls, Oliver about your time of death in the drawer. You were alive when he left you -

"That one of the stars, and that person smoking; I think you actually gave it to them as a gift," he frowns for a beat, "for when they turned seventeen, I think?"

Oh, Oliver knows that one. It's enchanting, blues so deep, so rich it's like you could swim in them, stars that seemed to actually glow on the canvas, and the hazy, dark outline of the window in the foreground, and part of a figure against the windowsill, lit cigarette the lone spot of fire, of red or orange, that makes everything else warmer for it.

"That one really surprised me actually," Nana admits, giving Felix a shrew smile, though he only seems confused, "did they ever tell you anything about it?"

"Said you painted it for them; pretty sure I remember them crying about it," he says fondly, reminiscing, "one of the best gifts they ever got, I'm not lying, they say it every year. It's beautiful." Then, as if recalling what she'd actually said, he looks at her curiously, "surprised you?"

Her smile widened into something both knowing, and endeared.

"I asked them to send me a photo, a postcard, their very best drawing, anything, as long as it was their favourite place in the world - do you really not recognise it?" The tea and biscuits are gone by now, the tea portion of their afternoon is coming to a close. Felix shook his head, almost looking like a lost child, as if he was aware there was something he was supposed to be understanding but couldn't quite get it, "Felix, my dear boy, they sent me a photo of you; that's their dorm room window from boarding school."

Felix looks winded, and a bit like he's about to cry.

"Oh you two were impossibly sweet," she reaches over and holds his hand tightly, looking over to Oliver earnestly, "you take care of this dear boy and his heart, you hear me?"

"Yes," Oliver all but trips over his words to agree, "of course, nan." And she gives him a pleased grin.

They move indoors after this, Felix quiet but lending his arm to Nana, which she takes, while she explained that usually you and Felix would visit a few times a year when they were on break, but she thought it would be best to come to Saltburn this time, given the circumstances.

"You should come see the place when you get the chance," she insisted, patting Oliver's hand.

"It's mostly where Y/N was raised before they ended up staying at Saltburn," Felix supplied with a grin, piquing Oliver interest.

"Y/N's childhood home? Oh I have to see that," he grins, and your grandmother grins brightly for a long moment.

"I'm sure Y/N would love that, they can give you the grand tour -" but her face falters, falls, as if she'd just remembered. Sombre silence, the spell is broken. "I'd love to have you around, dear," she corrects, much softer this time.

Felix lets her pick a movie, while Oliver settles himself awkwardly on the sofa. He wants to reach out to Felix, to touch his cheek, feel his boyish smile and know that it's real. But Felix isn't really even looking at him. There's something childlike about his enthusiasm here, about how he sits on his knees on the floor, watching with rapt attention as your grandmother pores over them. He practically glows as she praises his choices. When she picks one, she hands it over and he scrambles on all fours across the short floor space to the DVD player, fumbling with the case like he can't put it in fast enough. There's a softness in your grandmother's eyes as she watches the boy who has seemingly forgotten the man he is; when she looks at Oliver, its like he sees her asking how easy is he to adore, what a beautiful young man.

"You don't mind watching a movie do you, Oliver, dear?" She asks, though it's clearly an afterthought. He's already shaking his head, assuring her it's fine. Felix is already scrambling back, remote in hand. Oliver tries to make space for him on the sofa between himself and your Nana, but he seems content to sit on the floor in front of her, leaning back against the sofa with her knees gently pressed against either of his shoulders. Handing her the remote, Felix twists to give Oliver an expectant smile.

"Come here, mate," he insists, patting his lap, his legs kicked out in front of him. At Oliver's obvious confusion, Felix blinks for a few moments. It's like he's waking from a dream. His face falls, he goes to apologise, strained smile on his face, "sorry, I know that's weird, you don't have to -"

Slowly, Oliver moves from the sofa, sitting beside Felix on the floor. Your grandmother's knee is pressed gently to his back, but he's not quite sure if he's capable of relaxing enough in this moment to mind. She's playing with Felix's hair, having already started the movie.

"This is what you and Y/N would do," Oliver said softly, and rested his head on Felix's shoulder. Felix takes his hand, and laces their fingers together.

"Do you like it when people play with your hair, Oliver?" Your grandmother asks idly.

"Um, sometimes," he answers, still feeling rather awkward. He hears her chuckle warmly.

"It's okay if you don't want me to; Felix likes it so much he lets me braid it when it's long like this."

"Oh, I know Felix loves it," Oliver hears himself agree, "if he were a cat he'd be the kind to purr any time someone scratched between his little cat ears." And while both he and your grandmother share a fond laugh, he can hear Felix's smile in his words. He gives Oliver's hand a squeeze.

"I can't even argue; I wish I could purr right now."

Oliver wants to bottle this moment forever, keep it locked tight in his chest.

But the movie is a long one. One hour and fifty six minutes. Two hours rounded up. A whole two hours. Enough time to fall asleep with his head in Felix's lap the way they both said you used to. He wakes with your heartbeat in his ears, rapid, alive, left for dead.

"You okay buddy?" Felix looks at him with genuine love and concern; it's been such a long time since he'd seen that look, even with everything that had been happening, "I'm here, you're okay," he assured. Over by the television, putting the remote back, your grandmother glances over at the interaction with a warmth that makes Oliver feel queasy in this moment.

And he'll look up from the book, from his notes from the coroner's report crammed in, obscuring the end of one story while The Tell-Tale Heart begins on the other. Felix will be getting ready for bed in the other room, but he won't sleep there. He can't sleep there. Can't sleep in that bed without you, can't move the costumes from that night that hang side by side as a reminder of the hole you'd left behind in his life. Oliver will read approximately two am in his own messy handwriting, and look at the digital clock on his bedside that had read 12:07 when he'd crashed into his room and locked the door and sunk down against it. The numbers had been shining red in the darkness. On the wall behind, that starry night sky and the hint of Felix and his cigarette; a home you'll never return to hung up in the home you'll never truly leave.

He put enough coke in that bottle to kill a fucking lion. He'd given you the bottle. He'd told you he loved you. He'd left you like that.

He knew you were dying.

He'd left you alive.

Two hours.

The book snaps shut. In the silence he thinks he hears your breathing. Please, Ollie, help. Paranoia is a cruel thing, he has to tell himself; paranoia and guilt.

"Can I ask you something?" Felix joins him just as he's putting the book back in it's drawer. Oliver, heart beat racing - never as fast as the memory of yours, oh now it's all he can think about again - nods quickly. Felix sits on the end of the bed, clearly preoccupied, fussing with the buttons of his pyjama shirt. The days are getting cooler now; Oliver misses his bare skin against his, but he still feels too precarious to make such an observation.

"It's about Y/N," Felix swallows, can't meet his eyes, "about that night." Oliver feels his mouth go dry; the worst fucking night of his life. The night he doesn't know if he'll ever figure out if he regrets all he'd done.

He nods again.

"Were you the last person they spoke to?" It's like Felix is forcing himself to not shy away from this moment, giving Oliver the attention he thinks he deserves for such an important question. Then, after swallowing hard, he can't help but drop his gaze, "why," he can barely get it out, there's already a lump in his throat, "didn't they come into the maze too?" Oliver can't even give him that.

You'd been such a mess on your way to the maze, even with Oliver supporting you. Crying, furious, apologetic; you were everything at once. Even when you couldn't bring yourself to go in, everything about you had been sliding from one emotion to the next. But then it had stopped.

"I can wait for Fi here." It's the most sure that he'd seen you all night. It's when he knew. It had to be you, even if he loved you too. He'd never forget how clear your smile was, how sincere you'd urged him into the maze to follow the tail of what he thought was right. The sight of you, waiting, obedient and loyal for your master to return; "I'll be here, I promise; I'll wait."

Oliver knew before he'd even entered the maze that Felix's return to you would be too late.

In the present, Felix waits too, diligent, expectant. Oliver thinks about lying. Oliver thinks about how the truth will break his heart. Oliver thinks about how close Felix will hold him in his guilt riddled grief.

"I don't think they wanted to interrupt -" Oliver tries to start, but Felix immediately swears, hangs his head.

"Can't fucking believe I did that," he spits, "I was angry, and off my fucking face, sure, but that was fucking low, even for me," he admitted, pitching himself back on the bed, whole face scrunched up with guilt, barking out an upset fuck far louder than the others, prompting to Oliver to tentatively ask what he means. Felix took a moment, as if forcing himself to calm down, before he admits, voice low like he was sharing a secret, "I never even took Eddie into the maze," he sighed. After a beat, he conceded, "no, okay I did, but we didn't do anything - we made out a bit, but -"

"You didn't fuck you ex-boyfriend in the maze," Oliver connected the dots quickly, "but you did fuck your best friend's ex-not-girlfriend who you kind of stole from them, out of spite after kicking them out of your the bed you've been sharing all Summer?"

"Fucking hell, Ollie!" Felix sounds especially wounded when he lays it all out like that.

"Sorry," immediately, Oliver apologises, knot in his stomach when he hears Felix's pained tone. He wonders if this was what it was like for you all through the night of his birthday. Fuck, he can't think about that.

"No, but you're right," Felix admits, eyes finally opening, looking all hurt and vulnerable. Oliver lays himself down next to Felix, going the other way, both of them looking up at the ceiling. Oliver's hands rest on his chest, trying again, softer this time.

"So was a special place to them?" He gets no response other than a guilty nose from Felix, "you think that's why they wanted to wait by the entrance?"

"They wanted to wait for me," Felix says weakly, clearly in his head about that night once more, "didn't want to interrupt even as I was fucking defiling our-" but he catches himself turning bitter again, mouth snapping closed, "after everything I said that night," he mumbles, "fucking hell," he chokes out. The pain in his voice is audible. This is the sweet spot, Oliver thinks.

"I can wait for Fi here," Oliver whispers amid Felix's faint sobs.

"What?"

"You asked me what their last words were," Oliver told him as softly as he could manage; Felix sits up, eyes wide, distraught, so full of guilt and love and - "only thing they were properly coherent about; waiting for you," Oliver props himself up, reaches out to wipe a tear from Felix's cheek.

"You're not- Ollie, please tell me you're not kidding," Felix practically begs.

"I can wait for Fi here," Oliver reiterates, making sure to meet Felix's gaze as he holds his face, "'s the last thing they said- they said; I'll be here, I promise; I'll wait."

God he can see it in Felix's eyes; it's like the man's entire world crashes down around him. But he clings just as Oliver had hoped he would. As Felix holds him tightly, Oliver can't look at the glaring, red numbers of the clock on his bedside, the constant reminder of the two hours where he could have done something. Two hours and those wouldn't have been your last words.

He looks at the painting. At the stars. At Felix and his cigarette and your idea of what home looks like. The stars look just like they did that night. Just as bright. Oliver closes his eyes. Guilt twists people into shapes they don't often recognise; Oliver just holds Felix, hopes they twist into something together.

Except Oliver's guilt isn't the kind that twists, it's the kind that bites. It's like moths, eating him from the inside out. The guilt leaves him with jagged edges and thoughts he'd rather not be having; there are shades of Felix Catton that he loves, but shame and revulsion bites just behind the guilt as the months pass and he realises more and more this is not what he wanted. This is not the Felix he wanted.

Felix is like an echo, like the sun without it's warmth; he can look just the same, smile, talk, charm just the same if it was required of him, but there was something clearly missing from every interaction. Guests to Saltburn would pull his parents aside and ask if everything was alright. He is, but he is not the same as he once was.

Every day Oliver looks in the mirror and sees something grotesque behind his eyes that no-one else seems to notice. Felix Catton was meant to be the prize, the one who tossed aside everything but the best, the one who made the world fight for his attention, and feel heartbroken when he merely looked the other way. After all this, Felix Catton was not someone Oliver expected to be bored by.

Oliver Quick had lied for, lied to, betrayed the trust of, worked to gain the trust back of, loved, made fall in love with him, and literally murdered the love of his life who he also loved and was themselves also in love with Oliver while still considering Felix the love of their life, just to get a chance to spend his life by Felix fucking Catton's side. He wasn't allowed to not want this.

Felix smiles at him, says he loves him, fucks him, but it's not the dream Oliver once had. Something is always missing. No. Oliver deliberately took that thing away. But he can never admit that, nor can he ever regret that; too far gone. Oliver doesn't want to talk about the past, Felix can't being himself to talk about the future. Trapped together in the present, living lives that no longer feel like enough. Their routine becomes suffocating. Even Venetia, the few times she's stopped back at Saltburn, can barely manage a disdainful look, as if merely inconvenienced by Oliver's presence.

The growing apathy of the estate and it's occupants is exhausting. The cost of this lifestyle has long since surpassed it's value. He's even bored of being haunted. Two hours feels like fucking nothing when the days drag on the way they have been. Behind his eyelids he doesn't see you begging for help, you hiss for him to run, to get out.

He should have listened.

"Ollie, can I show you something I found?" Felix sounds bright today, and though Oliver wants to roll his eyes at the idea of anything in this house being new or novel enough to show off, he smiles back instead.

"'course Felix, what is it?"

Except Felix isn't smiling at him. Felix is looking far more serious and determined, sitting on the edge of their shared bed. Oliver immediately frowns.

"Have you been hiding something from me, Ollie?" It's a trap; a forced confession. Oliver shakes his head, plays dumb. Felix takes a deep breath, the kind that shifts his whole body, his expression remaining firm, "before I show you this thing, I want you to be honest with me; you promised you wouldn't lie to me anymore, you remember?" Oliver tries to lighten the mood, leaning against the window with a warm smile.

"Of course, my lovely Felix, no more lying," he assures, but the hairs on the back of his neck stand up with the way Felix remains quiet.

"What's seven-past-twelve mean?" Felix is watching him closely; too closely. Scrutinising his every move. It's like Oliver's been doused in ice water, even his tongue frozen in his mouth, "and what's it got to do with what happened on the night of your birthday?"

Felix doesn't even look at the night table as he opens it; his gaze is solely on Oliver. It's clear he'd done this before, pulling out the book, flicking through it's pages, and pulling the delicate, incriminating piece of paper out from where it had been safe for so many months.

"Felix, I-"

"What does twelve-oh-seven mean?"

Oliver is the deer again, trapped in Felix's accusatory gaze. For just a moment, Felix's voice drops, pleading with him for some other explanation, that Oliver wasn't somehow caught up in what happened, more closely, more malevolently than he'd ever said -

"Tell me," there's tears in his eyes, the furious kind, the ones where he's desperate to love and hope against all odds, "Oliver," he pleads through gritted teeth, "tell me you didn't know."

"Know what?" Oliver's voice is a hoarse whisper; he knows he is caught, all he has left now is borrowed time and a desperately silver tongue he doesn't know if he can rely on anymore. But Oliver's tragically weak denial is enough for Felix to all but jump to the right conclusion.

In a rush, Felix has Oliver by the collar of his shirt, pressed to the window -

"You knew they were dying and you fucking left them there."

This is the tipping point, the end of whatever good this had been. Felix could hurt him, Felix had hurt countless people on your behalf, he'd seen it himself. But Felix had always been the bleeding heart; you were the one who had to be kept on a leash. Felix could hurt him, could probably maim him for what Oliver was about to say, but he never shared your stomach for true Machiavellianism.

"Of course I knew," Oliver managed coldly, despite Felix attempting to crush all the air from him, "the amount of coke I gave them in that champagne could have killed a rhino-" it needed to be unforgiveable, the confession, so Felix would let him leave, would never want to see him again. He hadn't expected the force of Felix's rage to have the glass behind him give out.

Oliver falls from the second story window into the hedge garden below. Felix's shouting is tearing through the whole house it seemed, making his way downstairs, while Oliver tries to regain his breath and figure out if anything's broken. He's pretty sure it's not, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt as Felix drags him by his feet from the hedges, demanding at the top of his lungs that Oliver get the fuck out of Saltburn.

Every single person who'd been in the house comes outside to view the commotion, to see Oliver struggling to his feet, to get away from Oliver. Elspeth looks helplessly between the two boys, wondering what happened -

"Tell her what you did," Felix demanded, once more getting into Oliver's space, jabbing at his chest, "tell her what the fuck you just told me -" and Oliver's strength isn't insignificant, but Felix is in a fury, flooded with rage and adrenaline, and he grabs the back of Oliver's shirt like he's scuffing a cat, shoving him towards his mother like an offering. Oliver struggles because he feels like he has to, feels wild, feels feral, but it's the most of anything he's gotten from Felix in so long. His mouth stays shut, won't give him the satisfaction of a confession.

"He killed them," Felix doesn't even let Oliver have his power play before he grows bored. He shoves Oliver just a little, grip unyielding despite Oliver's best efforts, like he means nothing to him. Elspeth and Sir James are confused, looking between them both, but Felix isn't done with stringing Oliver up for all of Saltburn to see, "Y/N; he intentionally dosed their drink and left them to die outside the maze."

The Catton parents immediately look crestfallen; it's the first time in months Oliver's felt genuine guilt again. Oliver stops fighting. Felix lets him go. Elspeth asks him if this is true; that heartbroken hope is going to make him sick.

"Just send me away already," he drops his head.

"Oliver," Elspeth's voice is firmer this time; when he looks up, she's stepping towards him, tears in her eyes despite how hard she's clearly trying to hold herself together, "is Felix telling the truth?" Is this it? Is this the final gate to his freedom from Saltburn.

"Yes."

Elspeth slaps him so hard her ring draws blood. Oliver hadn't thought that was even possible, but his head is ringing from the collision.

"Get. Out." She hisses with absolute malice as he's hunched over, clutching his face. Felix is by his mother's side in a heartbeat, arm around her, looking at Oliver with contempt. Behind them, Sir James is ordering Duncan and the other staff members to get Oliver off of the property as quickly as possible, but the look in Elspeth's eyes is burning, "this is my family, you monster."

At first, it almost feels worth it to leave Saltburn. To leave the Cattons and their bullshit and their games behind. He thinks he knows them well enough to trust that they don't want the kind of scandal a murder on their hands would be, and for the most part, he's right.

It's not the Cattons who haunt him after Saltburn, though they may be pulling the strings. It's you. It's you sitting on Felix's bed in his dorm room reading every single detail of Michael Gavey's file with threats on your tongue. It's the casual way you talked about being able to access his academic files to change his grades if he wanted. It's you, tipsy at Saltburn, admitting that you got Eddie transferred without his consent to a university on the other side of the country after he cheated on Felix with Venetia.

There's no place for Oliver to return to at Oxford... He's not entirely surprised about that, however, there's also apparently no record of him ever attending. Any calls or enquiries he makes are shut down with the kind of immediacy that seemed reserved for shows about government conspiracies. When applications open for other universities, it seems websites shut down the minute he fills out his damn name. Nowhere in the world seems willing to consider him.

Having him audited seems like overkill. When it happens the next year, despite no employer willing to even consider him for an interview, the existential dread of his situation sets in.

Felix never had the stomach to finish the job; he'd let you haunt Oliver forever.

[veethewriter]

I have a prompt in mind… if you can’t do it tho that’s ok!! My brain has been rotting with scenarios of reader fighting with Astarion and The Gang™️, reader gets gravely injured and Astarion has to choose between letting the love of his life die in front of him or turning them. What happens and how reader reacts is up to u 😉

Of course!! Sorry if astarion is a little ooc....I tried my best. Also requests are open!

He barely had any time to process what had happened before you had fallen to the ground, incredibly injured. They had come out of nowhere it seemed just as you were setting up camp to rest, what seemed like hoards and hoards of goblins. It wouldn't have been a problem usually but you all had been low on supplies recently from all the fighting you've had to do. Not to mention how exhausted you all were from it. Wyll killing most of the ones near him and shadowheart, shadowheart trying to keep him healed.

You and astarion on the other side, fighting as well however taking more damage with no healer. That's when he had heard it, the painful gasp of breath coming from you as your armor had broken and a goblin had been able to stab a sword through the hole in your armor straight into your stomach, into some of your organs. You stabbed the goblin in front of you before falling to the ground yourself from all your injuries.

Filling with uncontrollable anger he quickly killed all the goblins around him before rushing over to you. Calling out the rest of the team as he went over to you. Shadowheart and Wyll rushed over still focused on killing the rest of them while protecting the two of you now. Making sure he's covered, astarion softly held you in his arms trying to not let the tears start seeing how bad you were. You were already unconscious barely breathing and turning pale, he could hear your pulse slowly dying.

He didn't know what he could do, you were bleeding too much even with him keeping the weapon in so you didn't lose more blood and wrapping the other wounds you had. He knew he could just turn you but would you be happy with that, is that what you would want? To become what he is? Would you be upset at him if he did? He didn't want the choice forced on you like it was to him. However he also knew he couldn't go on without you and the rest of the team would need you too. He had to make a decision quick and fast before you did die and it was too late to even turn you...

Caressing your face softly before finally deciding he leaned down and bit you before pulling away, cutting his palm, putting it up to your mouth making sure you drank some of it. Quietly hoping it would work, not even sure he was doing it correctly. You had already stopped breathing as he finished, he pulled the sword out of your wound before picking you up. All speechless still of what had happened they quietly went back to camp. Finally in your tent astarion set you down on the bedroll as shadowheart followed and broke the silence that had been hanging in the air, "Are you sure this is what she would want?".

All astarion can do is look down at you while thinking of what he had done was right before looking at shadowheart, "What would you have done?".

All she could do was sigh before using her magic to hear the wound on your stomach through still leaving a big scar since she had used most of her magic in the battle. As she leaves, astarion stays not leaving your side just with his book trying to distract himself even a little bit, feeling worried and guilty for what he had done....

It had already been a while since the sun had set when you had finally opened your eyes, feeling tired and for some reason very thirsty.... Seeing you finally awake astarion became nervous about how you would react. Astarion sat back down near you as you had sat up, holding your throat, "Astarion, what happened?"

He seemed nervous and very hesitant before grabbing your other hand, holding it softly, "My love, you got greatly injured, shadowheart was out of magic I didn't know what to do...".

You looked confused before you finally felt it, what more now than before permanent bite mark. As you were processing astarion handed you his mirror, confirming what you thought. You had only made astarion more nervous than before with you not saying anything, he quickly tried to explain himself, "I- I'm sorry darling, I just needed-," before being interrupted by you cupping his face softly.

You sighed softly trying to process everything before talking, smiling at him softly, "I don't blame you, you did what you thought was best and to be honest if the roles were switched I would've done the same....if I had something to stop you from dying I would've done it.".

As astarion tears up, knowing you're not mad at him, you pull him into a hug, running your fingers through his hair. Whatever happened next you two would get through together no matter what.

[ddejavvu]

Hey I have this Eddie idea! Maybe lame but yknow how guitar players tend to have calloused fingers/hands? Let's say his gf went to watch corroded coffin perfom & it was his best yet; Eds just totally shredding on that guitar causing the calluses to bust open & bleed :( do ya think u could write something abt the reader patching his hands/fingers up after his show?? I imagine him bein totally hyped up on adrenaline like "whoa babe did you SEE THAT?!" while also bein a very needy & lovesick boy 🥺

cont: Continuing off that last part, Eddie just becomes so enthralled at the idea of someone nurturing and loving him so much while his gf patches him up. Sorry i couldn't fit the entire idea on one post but yeah. I've often thought about Eddie's possible musical injuries haha 😄

i'd literally give up my sense of taste to be able to patch him up after a concert.

--

Nothing pumps eddie with adrenaline more than performing. Something about the dingy bar lighting, the sticky floor beneath his boots, and the amalgamation of drunk middle aged men and his closest friends cheering him on has energy racing through him.

That's why it's so difficult to corral him so that you can fix the busted callouses on his fingers. He obviously isn't able to play with bandages on his fingers, he tells you very emphatically that they wouldn't be good for shredding, so they have to be administered after the show, when the damage has already been done.

"-you see that?! Like, that had to be the best show we've ever done. I was- man I was killing it! The guy in front of me was filming." He reminds you proudly, as if the camcorder hadn't been in your line of sight the entire time he'd been using it to record the performance, "I think he's a scout or something. He's gonna send it to a producer, 'make us big."

"I'll have to tour with you," You hum, fingers wrapping one of Eddie's own with a plain brown bandage, "You'll need a medic for after your solos."

Eddie's brows furrow, and he glances down at your hands, suddenly aware of your touch. He realizes with a start that he's bleeding, too busy rambling before to feel the sting of his cuts.

"Oh shit," He mumbles, staring at the bandage on his pointer finger. You reach for his middle, crouched by his feet to have a better view of his injuries.

"'Must've busted when I was playing," He hums, brain still whirring with excitement.

You nod, humming in agreement, "Probably. Unless you were playing with a cactus I didn't see?"

"Yeah, it's back there," He gestures to a corner of the room that you know full well does not have a cactus in it, giggling softly as you squint at his blister. You're making sure that no residual blood is left on the skin, the cotton ball in your hand stained a murky crimson, when you feel Eddie's lips against your temple, his neck craned down to reach you.

"Thanks for patching me up," He murmurs, his voice soft against your skin.

You preen under his affection, eyes scrunching in a smile as you nod, "Mhm. Can't let you drive with bloody hands."

"'Sounds kinda metal," He muses, and you know he's joking, that he won't actually smear blood over his steering wheel. Still, you jerk your head towards his guitar, the thin strings tinged red.

"I think that's just about the most metal thing you could have." You finish dabbing away at his blood, wrapping one last bandage around his cut, "You'll have to leave it all bloody and sell it when you get big."

"No way." He shakes his head, curls flying, "I'd never sell it."

"Why not?"

You're expecting a rant about his sweetheart, how he could never bear to part with the guitar that had carried him through so many shows. But he surges his head forwards, eyes narrowed in an incredulous stare, "Uh, 'cause then someone could clone me?"

[enviedear]

anakin being touch starved baby boy that he is. just listen to me. he comes back from whatever activities of the day he had and just wants to snuggle with the reader and never let them go but he finds the reader still finishing her (theirs if u prefer gn) work stuff so he gets very pouty and touchy and starts snuggling to her like a little stray cat/ following her everywhere she goes just to stay close to her. (u can make it spicy at the end if u want to but it is not necessary) ❤️‍🩹🤌🏼 i am hungry for some fluff as i am drowning in my own work + hormones are killing me

love u xo

no this is so real and this fueled me into a spiral abt anakin being with a student girlie— like yeah he totally would go for a hottie with brains from the ISE. like yeah he no doubt can pull someone capable of making a starship out of nothing.

wc— 1.5k | tw— nsfw minors dni i will block you, fingering, piv, unprotected sex, anakin finishing inside of you, mentions of food and eating

you're trying your hardest to study for your upcoming exam, cups upon cups of finished caff's litter your desk. you're only halfway finished with your newest battleship render when anakin comes home.

his eyes are tired but when they meet yours he smiles, "hi baby, i missed you." he's quick to walk over to where you're seated, strong arms coming to wrap around your shoulders.

you lean back, inhaling his smell, "i missed you too, ani," you give him a pout, "but i really need to finish this before tomorrow."

he looks down at your holopad, "i could make dinner, do you think you'll be done by then?"

you smile, "i'll try my hardest."

he lingers for a moment, letting his head drop down to your neck. he leaves a trail of soft kisses in his wake, stopping at the side of your face before placing one finger under your chin and drawing you in.

his kiss is hungry, wanting— and you so badly want to indulge him, but before he can take it any further you break away.

"i'm serious, anakin. if i don't get this done i'm going to feel the wrath of every single one of my professors." your voice is stern, but the way he looks at you illicts a small smile.

he groans, pulling away, "okay, okay. but please try to be done in time for dinner. i've missed you so bad all day."

you nod and watch as he heads into the kitchen, the sound of pots and pans clattering filling the air. letting out a sigh, you go back to your work, but you can't help the thoughts that linger in your mind.

as you try to focus on your work, thoughts of him keep creeping into your mind. the way his lips feel on yours and the way he holds you close, making you feel safe and loved.

you shake your head, trying to clear your mind, but the more you try to push it away, the stronger the desire becomes. your project floats into the background of your mind as you work on it, fueled now by thoughts of your beautiful boyfriend.

glancing at the clock, you realize that an hour has already passed. you rub your eyes and stretch your arms before looking over your nearly finished work. as if on cue, anakin walks in with two plates of food.

"hey," he says, placing the plate in front of you. "i made your favorite."

you look up at him and smile. "thank you, ani. it smells amazing."

he leans down to give you a quick kiss on top of your head before grabbing his own plate and sitting across from you.

as you eat, small talk fills the air. you rant about your looming deadlines, while anakin shares stories about recent council meetings at the temple.

however, he's mostly relegated to mentioning how much he's missed you, "i thought about stopping by for lunch, but then master yoda asked me to step in for one of the youngling classes."

you give him a sorry look, "i wouldn't have been very good company anyway— i've been working on this since you left this morning." you can't help but feel guilty about being so busy lately, but with exams just around the corner, it's been hard for you.

anakin reaches out, massaging your tense shoulders, "i'm sorry baby, why don't you take a break?"

you bite your lip, "ani… i can't. i'm almost done though, i promise," you turn in your seat to face him, hands cupping his cheeks, "and then i'll be all yours for the rest of the night."

he has a challenging expression on his face, "i think a break would help," he leans in so that your lips brush, "let me ease up some of your stress, baby."

you groan, "ani, i don't know, i really need to—"

he cuts you off, leaving a lingering kiss on your lips before pulling away, "ise gets all of your time now, i'm getting jealous."

you laugh, "oh, don't be jealous, ani. you know i love you more than anything."

he smirks and begins to massage your shoulders again. you close your eyes and let out a sigh of relief. the tension starts to melt away under his strong hands.

"you're too good at this," you say, leaning back into him.

"i have my ways of making my you feel better," he says, lips brushing against your neck.

you try and stifle a moan as he nibbles at your earlobe. his hands starting to wander down your back and you can feel his body heat beaming off of him.

"ani, i really need to finish this," you say, but your tone is starting to sound less convincing.

he pulls back, cupping your face and forcing you to look into his eyes. "i know you do, baby. but can't it wait for a little bit, hm?"

you nod slowly, feeling yourself giving in to his touch. he leans in again and kisses you deeply. his tongue brushes against yours and you feel a surge of desire wash over you.

he's quick to lift you from your seat, and you instinctively wrap your legs around him. he groans into the kiss, laying you down on the bed, hands exploring your body needily.

before you know it, your clothes are off and anakin is lying on top of you. he has a way of being able to get what he wants, most of the time that being you.

it was hard not to indulge him though, not when he felt so good.

he kisses you all over your body, igniting every inch of skin that he touches.

"ani," you moan his name as his hand drifts lower, toying with your sex.

you can't help but grind your hips against his hand, desperately trying to elicit more pleasure from him. you're greedy for touch.

he teases you lightly with his fingers before parting your lips, only to thrust a single digit into your slickness. your hands grip at his free arm, feeling his veins.

he teases you relentlessly, sending you into a spiral of pure bliss, until all at once, you're writhing beneath his touch, "ah! oh ani!"

he continues on, not stopping as you draw closer to yout climax. your body quivers, and you look down at him wantonly, wanting him more than ever. he smirks at the sight of you trying to regain some semblance of control.

"what do you want, pretty girl?" his questions drips with lust, eyes dark and enticing.

you choke back a moan at his words, "you, ani. i want you."

he presses his lips against yours once more before positioning himself between your legs. pressing his bulge against your opening, groaning as he sinks himself slowly into you.

you close your eyes, focusing on how good it feels— how perfectly he fits inside of you.

as he sets a steady pace with his hips, fucking you deeper and deeper with each stroke, the familiar tug building inside of you once again.

"oh god! you feel so good ani," you moan loudly, unabashed as her ruts deeper into you.

his head drops down to your neck, lips brushing against your ear, "that's my girl, just letting me make her feel good."

with each thrust now comes an increasing sense of euphoria that plagues your mind and body with waves of pleasure that wash over every inch of flesh; sensitizing everything around it. all at once it becomes too much.

you're nails drill deep into his back, and he grunts at the feeling. his hands dig into your hips, pulling you into him even closer.

"fuck, sweetheart—" he cuts off as you bite down onto his shoulder desperately, groaning loudly as you come in pulses around him.

your breaths are short and your head is swimming, the need for oxygen becoming a necessity.

your fingers finally begin to relax as your breathe evens out. "dammit," you exhale, exhausted from the sudden rush of pleasure flowing through every fiber of your body. anakin lets out a grunt of his own as your walls tightly clamp around him. you can barely keep up with his erratic thrusts, and he leans down to kiss you before finishing inside of you.

you moan loudly into his mouth as he cums, a stream of warmth flowing into you as your inner walls clamp tight around his cock. you feel him twitch and spasm inside of you, and his muscles momentarily lock up before you both relax into each other's arms.

you run your hands through his hair lightly before pulling apart from him. "i love you so much."

he turns to press a soft kiss against your cheek, before rolling off of you, grabbing for a towel, "and i love you."

you watch as he cleans you up, his face still reddened from his work, "you're such a good distraction."

he hums, looking at you, "you like it,"

you roll your eyes, "i know and it's a problem, i let you do it every time."

he grins in response. "it's not my fault you enjoy my distractions so much." and before another retort is made, he presses his lips onto yours momentarily before sliding into bed beside you.

[archiveikemen]

『 Villain's Night 』 Story Event: Chapter 1

Jude Jazza

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

❥･• Warnings and FAQ

Costumed Young Man: You’re so cold… didn't you hear me say trick or treat?

Kate: … I’m waiting for someone.

Costumed Young Man: If you don't want a treat, then I’ll have to play a trick on you.

(H-He’s creepy…)

Jude told Ellis to buy some things, and so we went to the bustling town where some Halloween festivities were happening.

While waiting outside a store for Ellis, I was pestered by a young man wearing a costume.

(I’ll be separated from Ellis if I leave this spot…)

(Then it’ll defeat the whole purpose of me coming along to help carry the shopping bags… how do I shake this person off me?)

Costumed Young Man: Hey, are you ignoring me?

Kate: ? Let go of me…!

The young man grabbed my wrist, yelling and glaring at me. At that moment—

???: You're awful and choosing the men you throw yourself at.

Costumed Young Man: What?

(... This voice.)

Someone pulled me backwards by my shoulder, and I turned around to see Jude standing there.

Jude: You feeling (sexually) frustrated?

Kate: No…! This person has been pestering me and refuses to leave me alone, that’s all.

Jude: Oh?

Costumed Young Man: Eep!

A brief glance from Jude was enough to make the young man sense danger, and he fled with a cowardly cry.

Kate: … Thank you for saving me.

Jude: You were standing there defenselessly like an idiot.

Jude: As a former postwoman, you should know that there would be such fools going around being festive on Halloween.

I turned my gaze toward the lively streets of London, and Jude took his hand off my shoulder.

The spot he touched felt cold, my eyes instinctively followed his hand as he pulled away.

He was fundamentally an unfeeling and sadistic man, but he would sometimes do something like that, and they never fail to make me nearly lose my composure.

Jude: It honestly baffles me that you’ve lived this long unscathed.

Kate: … I would've bit him and escaped if I had to.

Jude: Oh really? What bravery.

Jude: However… I saved you this time, so you owe me one.

Kate: !? I’ll repay you right now, I’ll do it immediately!

(I have to propose a suitable compensation before he demands something utterly outrageous!)

(What would be good… confectionery? Nope, bad idea. He might label me as “one of those fools going around being festive about Halloween” and flat out reject them.)

(Hmm…. let me think…)

Jude: Seeing as you're wrecking that pea brain of yours, I’ll tell you what I want as compensation.

Kate: Huh…!?

Jude: Don’t roam around aimlessly tonight, be obedient and stay in your own room at the castle.

Jude: I’ll let you off if you can promise me to do that.

Kate: … You’re fine with just that?

Jude: You want something more extreme?

Kate: NO! Okay, I promise.

Ellis: I kept you waiting, Kate. Sorry, I took quite a while because the shop was crowded…

Ellis: Jude? Are you done with work already?

Jude: I wouldn't be standing here if I wasn't.

(He went to work today too, even though it's a holiday. He’s really always so busy…)

On top of having to complete missions as a member of Crown, he also had work at his trading company… I couldn't help but admire how he was capable of shouldering that heavy workload.

(He doesn't like his job… and he’s not a huge spender who splurges excessively on luxury.)

(I wonder what his reason for working this hard is…?)

…

In the end, Ellis only gave me the lightest bag out of everything he bought, and the three of us returned to Crown’s castle.

Victor: Happy Halloween! What do you think of the splendid decorations in the dining hall?

Alfons: What wonderful decorations! They make me want to ask, who put them up?

Victor: Yes, yes, I shall not keep it a secret. These were put up by yours truly!

Kate: Wow! As expected from Victor!

Ellis: *clap clap clap* 😐

Jude: …

Kate: Jude, could you please at least comment something…

Alfons dragged me into the dining hall the very moment I stepped foot into it, and I was amazed by the extravagant decorations.

Victor wore a satisfied grin, unbothered by the lacklustre reactions.

Victor: Hmm, Ellis and Kate’s kindness, Jude’s icy stare…

Victor: My cursed ones and fairytale writer are functioning normally today!

Victor: … But that’s only for while the sun is still up. I’ve already said this to Alfons.

Victor: Ellis and Jude should be careful tonight too.

Jude: I don't have the time to be chit chatting with a weirdo.

Jude dodged the topic and left.

Kate: … Is there something happening at night?

Alfons: Fufu, I guess we could call it a strange thing about curses.

Alfons: Once every few years, when there's a full moon on Halloween night, the “sinfulness” of people born with curses intensifies.

Victor: At the same time, the Nightblooms (actual name: Dutchman’s Pipe Cactus or Epiphyllum oxypetalum) in the palace will be in full bloom, thus this phenomenon is known as the “Night of The Nightblooms”. Based on what I know, the last time it happened was 20 years ago.

Kate: What do you mean by intensifying “sinfulness”...?

Alfons: Cursed people have certain traits, yes?

Alfons: For example, William’s traits are “self-righteousness” and “condemnation”. As for Jude’s… “ruthless”, “haughty”, and “vengeful”.

Alfons: I think it's not wrong to say that these traits will become stronger tonight.

Kate: Does that mean that Jude will become more ruthless, haughty, and vengeful than he already is now…?

Victor: That’s right. As for the cursed person, they find it harder to control themselves… something like that.

Victor: It’s a dangerous night for both the cursed person and the people around them.

(It’s dangerous even for the cursed person…)

Alfons: And despite knowing that, it looks like Jude has plans to go somewhere dangerous tonight.

Kate: Somewhere dangerous?

Alfons: Yeah. Roger told me about Jude’s plans for tonight.

Alfons: Have you heard of the illegal way of gambling called “Duel Gambling” which involves killing each other?

Kate: N-No…!

Alfons: There's word going around that the man who embezzled money from Jude’s trading company has been squandering the stolen money there.

Alfons: Sad to say that the little rascal has already died a rather nasty death.

Alfons: It seems that Jude wants to put the screw on that gambling establishment and take all of their money.

Alfons: It’s chilling to think about the possibility of bloody violence.

Kate: Going to such a place on a day like this makes it even more dangerous…

Alfons: Doesn't it? But that’s the perfect place for someone who loves money and the misfortune of others to be at, don't you think?

Alfons: He might get himself arrested or even killed if he goes too far, but… well, he’ll be alright.

(Wha… that won’t be good.)

Kate: He’s already working so hard at his job and completing missions for Crown… he doesn't seem to be in need of money.

Alfons: Could it be because of the “vengeful” trait his curse gives him?

Alfons: He will never be satisfied until he gets back what has been taken from him, and never forgive a broken promise until he's taken revenge.

Ellis: Also… Jude needs a lot of money and manpower to achieve his goal, I guess?

Kate: His goal…?

Ellis: He made a promise to someone in the past.

Kate: Is it something that can be done with money?

Ellis: It’s said that it is 99.9% impossible.

(What…?)

(For that 0.1% chance… he��s making himself this busy and even risking his life?)

Ellis: … Anyway, because Duel Gambling is illegal, the other party has to back down no matter what. He said that he’ll take back twice the amount of money he lost, and that tonight’s the best time.

Kate: Will you be going with him?

Ellis: I… I’ll be staying in my room tonight, I guess.

Ellis: Because I don’t know what will happen to me tonight… :)

Kate: … I-I see… you’re right.

Victor: … None of the cursed people in the castle can help tonight, Kate.

(So Jude might… die alone… in some unknown place…)

Alfons: You look worried about him. Why not go see for yourself what’s going on?

Kate: … I promised him that I’ll be good and stay in the castle tonight.

Alfons: Haha! As long as he doesn't catch you, it won't count as breaking the promise.

Kate: … Please don’t tempt me. A promise is a promise, and it should never be broken.

Alfons: Fufu, that’s too bad. I forgot how upright and serious you are.

Alfons: I’ll lend this to you in case you have a change of mind.

Alfons: You’ll only be allowed to enter that gambling den today if you’re dressed up.

Alfons whispered in my ear and handed some items to me — a pair of cat ears and a tail that looked very questionable.

Kate: … How do I put this tail on…?

Alfons: You can’t tell just by looking at its shape? This part goes inside you—

Kate: T-Take them back…!

Alfons: I’m not accepting returns ^-^

Alfons stuffed them into my pocket and left in a good mood.

I couldn't bring myself to touch those items, so I left them untouched in my pocket.

(I- I’ll get rid of them when I’m changing my clothes…)

(I want to keep the promise I made to Jude.)

(But…)

As much as I knew that I was being unnecessarily worried, I couldn't help being curious about what happens on “Night of The Nightblooms”.

…

I walked to the palace garden.

(This is the garden where the Nightblooms are. They’re still buds at the moment…)

(When they bloom together… it must be a very beautiful sight.)

Unmistakably — beautiful enough to drive people insane.

???: My… is that a little robin lost in a garden full of Nightblooms?

Kate: William…

William: Have the flowers driven you mad yet?

Kate: No… I just learnt about the Night of The Nightblooms a while ago — I got curious about them.

William: — The troubled look on your face tells me that what you're feeling is more than pure curiosity.

Kate: I promised Jude this morning that I’ll stay in my room at the castle tonight. But…

Kate: I think he’s deliberately trying to keep me out of harm’s way, because he knows about Night of The Nightblooms.

Kate: The promise was supposed to be a means for me to repay what I owe him, and yet I’m being protected by him again…

Kate: I feel like I’m not doing anything to repay him at all.

William: … Fufufu. You’re a sincere little robin. By the way, Kate.

Kate: Yes…?

William: Trick or Treat?

Kate: !? Sorry, I don't have anything with me right now.

William: I know. I only said that to justify my act of mischief.

Kate: Huh…?

William: Perhaps because the sun is setting — I’m feeling slightly more selfish than usual.

William: “Tonight, do as your desires tell you to”

Kate: …!?

William: This is the place Jude went to. You can go look for him if you’d like.

My hand moved on its own to receive the memo William held out, like a magnet being attracted to metal.

Kate: W-Whoa… William, this is…!?

On top of that, my feet seemed to have also gained a mind of their own and carried me towards the garden’s exit.

(I… Am I headed towards where Jude is!?)

William: Go ahead, Kate.

William: — I hope you have the most sinful Halloween you’ve ever experienced in your lifetime.

[yoke9494]

Ran, baby fever, and Pixie.

Bonten crack

Pregnancy scare

Ran's a spoiled brat.

Sanzu likes the word coochie.

Rindou is done....

______________________________

Kakucho fiddled with the blue and pink boxes as he waited on the other side of the bathroom door. He wasn't sure why he bought so many? He's never been in this position before but when someone who he considered as his friend asked him to get her a pregnancy test... He panicked and returned with 6 different boxes, all different brands.

"What are you doing?"

Sanzu walked up and peaked at the boxes. "Oh shit! You gonna be a daddy?"

Kakucho shook his head. "No. Its has nothing to do with with me. Its for.. uh." It wasn't really his business to tell? Then again you're always with Sanzu so maybe it's his kid?

Sanzu snickered. "Oh... It's for Ran huh? One of his many one night stands then.. What is this, like his fifth kid?"

".... I really hope it's not Ran's." 

Sanzu opened one of the boxes just to see what these things were all about. Before he could get the wrapper off the stick a yell came from the bathroom.

He knew that scream!

Without thinking Sanzu kicked open the bathroom door and drew his gun.

You both locked eyes and let out synchronized screams. His eyes traveled down to between your legs.

*Gasp!* "Why are you bleeding so much?! Did you push too hard and break your coochie?!"

You gave him a dead panned look. "I started my period, dumbass!"

(Sanzu) "Oh." *Snort* " Good for you?"

"Hell yeah it is! That means I'm not pregnant!"

It finally clicked into Sanzu's dazed brain. "Oh... OH!!! Fuck yes! No baby!"

He held up his hand for a high five. You couldn't leave your man hanging.

After that he giggled and ran out of the bathroom. Probably going off to announce to the whole mansion you weren't knocked up. The person who could have been the father would probably faint with joy... Well if he hasn't drank himself unconscious by now.

Kakucho finally walked in, his eyes shifted away from you sitting on the toilet to the unused pregnancy test on the bathroom sink.

"Sorry for making you go to the pharmacy Kaku. It was just a false alarm."

Kakucho shrugged his shoulders. "S'fine. Better to start keeping these things around for other "guests". Since I'm sure you learned to be more careful now.."

"Oh, totally. I'm going on the damn pill after today..."

"Good..."

"Mhmm.. So, you mind getting out so I can clean up and change?"

"Shit!" Covering his eyes like he wasn't just standing next to you while still on the porcelain thrown. "Sorry!"

He fumbled for the door knob before he closed it shut.

You shook your head and laughed. There was no such thing as privacy around here.

If it was Mikey, Sanzu, Ran, or Takeomi they'd just watch. Mochi wouldn't even bother to be involved. Kokonoi and Kakucho were the only ones who respected your privacy.... Sometimes. 

---------------

On the other side of Bonten's HQ, Sanzu ran into the sitting area to find the Haitani's already there.

"Y/n's not pregnant!"

Sanzu not being able to contain his excitement, started shaking Rindou who grabbed onto Sanzu's shoulders in return and squeezed like he wanted to hurt him..

"Are you sure?! You better not be lying you pink fuck!"

Sanzu shoved the younger Haitani off of himself and drew his gun once again. He was beyond trigger happy today...

"You've been touching my coochie Haitani?"

Rindou slapped the gun away from his temple. "She's not even yours you obsessive fuck. Are you positive she isn't knocked up?!"

Sanzu eyed him for a second. "What's stuck up your ass? And yes, she's having a blood bath on the toilet right now. I thought her pussy fell off."

Sanzu looked around the room. Rindou grabbed a glass from the coffee table and slammed down the rest of the amber liquid. A nearly empty bottle of whiskey sat at the edge.

"Didn't we just buy that shit yesterday?"

"Fuck!"

Sanzu's gaze shot up to Ran. He stood in front of the two with a sad looking face. That's when Sanzu noticed the small outfits he had in each hand.

In the left was a tiny purple dress, complete with a small headband that had a huge flower attached to it. In the right was a brown bear onesie that had a red bowtie connected to the chest.

"You mean... I'm not going to be an uncle?"

Rindou ran his hand down his face. "For the last time.. No. Go dress up your own kids and stop poking holes into my condoms, you sick fuck."

Ran clicked his tongue and slumped down onto the couch. " Your swimmers suck limp dick Rin. And for your information, your nieces and nephews are all already too big to be wearing this cute shit."

He grabbed the clothes and threw them at Sanzu. "Knock her up so I can have a baby." 

Sanzu made a face of disgust. "Like fuck I'm getting my partner in crime knocked up. Do you know how stupid we'd look torturing someone with a brat strapped to our chest? Go make another one somewhere!"

Ran sighed. "I don't want another one of my own. I only like them when they're tiny and babbling nonsense. When I get tired of it I can give it back."

Takeomi walked in and threw his box of condoms at Ran. "What the fucks your problem Ran?! I think I got one of the strippers from last week pregnant!"

"Ooop- I'm out!"

Ran used his daddy long legs and tried to run out the door. Takeomi wasn't having it.

"Get your slim Jim, Pocky stick, stick bug from bugs life lookin ass back here you lanky Slenderman bitch!"

The two passed you and Kakucho in the hallways. Ran gave you a quick glance over his shoulder and flipped you off as he ran from Takeomi.

"I'm disappointed in your ovaries woman!"

You and Kakucho looked at one another. "See, it was his doing! I say we just get him a puppy or something.. That or you let me kill him."

Kaku shook his head. "No to the killing part, Rindou would get depressed and either kill himself or you. I passed by some pet shop a few days ago. They had puppies... Let's go before Ran pulls a Jesus and gets some virgin pregnant."

"Ran's too evil to pull a Jesus. He's going to Criss Angel a bitch pregnant instead."

------------------

The pet shop was small but you could feel the relaxed atmosphere before you and Kakucho even opened the door.

Of course your shopping companion went straight to look at the colorful fishes leaving you waiting by the counter for someone to help you out.

"Sorry to keep you waiting! It's just me today so I apologize ma'am."

The cutest guy you've ever seen walked in from some back office with a few cat food bags stacked in his arms. Black and yellow hair with sandy colored eyes.

' Adorable.. '

He set the bags down and gave you a smile. It was like your brain quit working. 

"Can I help you find something or just looking?"

You wanted to throw some cheesy joke about already finding what you wanted if you could take him home... Damn, you hung out with Ran too much...

' Oh right! Ran's dumbass.. '

"Uh.. actually I'm here to adopt a puppy or cat. Whatever really?"

The guys face lit up. It was their goal after all to find all the animals a forever home.

You learned the guy's name was Kazutora as he introduced you to the many animals up for adoption. Big, small, fuzzy, and scaly. All cute but none of them screamed ✨Ran Haitani ✨.

When Kazutora was in the middle of introducing you to a spotted bunny named Daisy. You had to stop him..

"I'm going to be real with you. The guy I'm buying for... Well I need an animal who will basically be acting as a baby for him. A plus if the animal wouldn't mind being dressed up in cutesy clothing..."

You noticed Kazutora's shoulders kind of dropped. "Oh.. shopping for your boyfriend?"

You had to swallow down the vile that shot up to the back of your throat. "Gross! Fuck that. He's more like an annoying coworker. The guys lonely and gets on all of our nerves so I figured a fur baby would satisfy him."

His light returned! Kazutora thought for a second, he looked unsure... "There is one. She likes to dress up but."

He motioned for you to follow him to the last animal case. It was huge! It took up almost more than half of the shelf's space! Maybe you should just get Ran the bunny?

When he stopped and looked down you had to hold back the dolphin laugh you wanted to spit out when your eyes landed on the animal.

A small tea cup Chihuahua sat on a large doggie bed that was decorated with small pillows that looked like they came from a doll house. It's huge but lazy eyes were glued to a small TV... Yes a TV in the showing case!

"So.. uh. This is Pixie.. She's the only animal we have who likes to dress up."

You couldn't take your eyes off of her and her purple sweater. If this wasn't Ran in mini dog form.

"Kakucho! Get your ass over here and take a look at this!"

Kazutora jumped back at your sudden yell. You looked up at him and apologized but his eyes traveled up to the figure standing in back of you.

"What do you think Kaku? Kazutora here says she likes to dress up."

Kakucho made a weird face that made his nose wrinkle. "We're getting that bastard a rat?"

You snorted while Kazutora gasped.

"She's a tea cup Chihuahua Sir. Her name is Pixie."

Kakucho looked at Kazutora with furrowed brows. "Why Pixie?"

"Uh.. well I wanted to name her Tinker Bell after the fairy from Peter Pan because she likes attention and gives attitude when she doesn't get her way.. but my boss suggested Pixie because she seems to not like the color green."

Kakucho let out a chuckle before looking down at you. You were making faces at the thing while it just looked at you with bored eyes.

'It even looks like him...'

"We'll take her."

Again Kazutora seemed unsure. "Uhm.. Are you sure?" He brought you both over to a dog food aisle. He didn't want Pixie to hear him. "I'm going to warn you two now.. As you can tell she's pretty spoiled and mean." Kazutora lifted up his long sleeve and showed you the many tiny bite marks he had. "This is from when I tried to wake her up from her nap."

You and Kakucho shared a look. You both smiled and spoke at the same time. "She's perfect."

----------------

Rindou clicked his tongue from beside you. He hated this.. Ran had asked you and Rindou to baby sit on your day off. He was on assignment and couldn't take his baby girl with him.(It broke his heart) Rindou tried to get out of it but Mikey roped him back in.. Nobody wanted the responsibility of looking after Ran's pride and joy.

"You know...I really regret not knocking you up now. Pushing around a baby wouldn't be as humiliating as this."

You looked down at Pixie who was having the time of her life being pushed around by Rindou in her doggie stroller. Wearing a bright pink dress with a white flower attached to her collar, along with a small matching sun hat.

In Ran's words. "A classy lady look."

You pulled out one of her treats from her designer brand doggie bag so she could nibble on something. They were stupidly expensive, each treat bag could put food on a struggling families table for a month.

"She's not that bad. At least Ran stopped fucking with everyone's condoms. I was scared I'd have to start hiding my birth control up Sanzu's ass or something."

"Speak for yourself. Look what this rat did!"

Rindou held up his hands. All fingers and thumbs were wrapped in bandage's.

"That's because you're rude to her or Ran."

"It shits in my fucking shoes."

"Pixies craps are no bigger than a mini tootsie roll. And her pee puddles only need one sanitizing wipe. Stop being a bitch."

All the younger Haitani did was roll his eyes and continue to push. Why did you both have to come to the dog park when this rat's feet has never touched grass let alone dirt. He hated this damn dog and he hated you for getting it...

[liauditore]

For the ship bingo, perhaps ethubs or boatboys?

sorry it took so long to get to this i got so excited someone asked me to talk abt ethubs i went into a coma 😭😭

Ethubs

um uhh umerm ethubs yeah etho and bdubs and last life and mindcrack UHCs and eyah yknow um yeah

you know that one post that's like "inside my head is a five page essay with footnotes and when i speak it's just ouhghh blorbo he is so shaped". that's me with ethubs. not even kidding ethubs is the ship that made me finally "get" shipping in general, mcyt or not. i. words. i care them.

and uh there's. not rlly anything i can say i think that my ethubs moots haven't already said? They've been friends forever, they play off eachother super well, "he loves me", they're both so obsessed and in need of eachother but at the same time would rather eat raw, unpicked cactus than admit that, etc etc they're so unwell

im just gonna skip on over to the song lyrics bit cus i. they make my brain short circuit i cant even sentences.

The scarlet summer is gone and peaceful gray is draping the city Alone, I reach out for you to hold me tight, shivering Always the days spent with you warmed my heart and kept me from freezing Although I knew they were gone forever But in my pain, to me you came like the warmest breeze "On nights so cold I know you need some company."

Though only in lonely and freezing times, we held each other close to keep from feeling hopeless nothings And now again I can see summer fast approaching like a storm that there's no stopping Repeating in a cycle Like our mistakes

My love for you is endless, just like the deepest sea And like the ocean blue your complications speak to me I've come to understand you, your parts and inner workings My sun only in winter Only when I need you or else you won't need me

Leave you in Summer, Yet You're In My Fluffthoughts (Ashe translyrics) (sidenote this might be one of my favourite music videos of all time)

Falling so deeply while clinging to love But even so, I feel my heart and it’s floating up above Your true face, such a passionate one, shows your beauty, coming in a flood True, all of our short-lived youth will someday come to end Ah, even so, in my view, it starts right now, yet again

And every day, I found I prayed for you to be always full of happiness that remains Ah, just like this, please wait right by my side, please stay

Tablet (Will Stetson / sayriris translyrics) (after watching LL the first thing i did was make a MV to this song with LL Bdubs and it was still the most insane thing ive ever done fuelled by pure gargoyle inspiration juice)

I wouldn't say they're ~~Divorced~~ quite yet cus Idk if they were ever really married as much as just plain endlessly obsessed with eachother, which they still are. But they definitely broke up lmao

but yeah uh their chemistry is great. bdubs said it best. they've been thru the trenches together.

Boat Boys

Thankfully much less thoughts about these two or else this post would get way too long lmao. I like them but I'm not too insane about them I guess? Etho's very awkward near people he isn't used to which was fun to watch but made their interactions kind of limited for a lot of DL I feel.

Joel's obsession with Etho is hilarious and seeing Bdubs get jealous of his #1 ethogirl status getting challenged is great fun. He's definitely gone through a bit of an arc from "I KILLED ETHO! I KILLED ETHO!!" in Last Life to "Eefo D:< You're making me nervous, eefo D:<" in Double Life to whatever the cow divorce situation was in Limlife. It seems like Etho's otherworldly status has been nerfed in his head and he's much less intimidated by him, while still admiring him in that 'childhood hero' sorta way.

I think because of that I've always seen them a little bit as more of a mentor/prodigy relationship than anything else? Specifically one that Etho is not even aware he's in. Eitherway, I don't really ship them in the romantic sense 🤷‍♂️ etho's just way too aloof and joel's got too much fangirl energy for it to be anything intimate lol

[wisecrackingeric-2]

Luis ramble time

TW//homophobia??

I think my favorite thing about Luis has to be the idea that his religious trauma led him to become homophobic but not in the sense of how it normally is. I think he internalized it as he grew up in a Catholic setting and became more interested in other people. This is why I believe he probably wouldn't have kissed Leon,,he will flirt and make flirty gestures but I don't really believe he'd full on go for it. I think it's more believable that he would've felt guilty because we all know one thing Luis still holds dear is his religion.

To me Luis is bisexual and when he met Leon it made him remember those odd feeling but he was to afraid to express them both from fear of loosing Leon and the feeling of being sinful. (this comes from someone who connects to Luis in these regards,,dw I came to terms with myself awhile ago!) And just like everything else in his life he ran away from it and ultimately..

He never let himself feel those emotions nor tell Leon

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO GET TO BUT YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW FERAL I WENT OVER THIS I STARTED GOING DOWN SUCH A LONG RABBIT HOLE OUUUUGHHH

BUT YOURE SO RIGHT YOU HAVE A BIT BEAUTIFUL BRAIN IT HURTS SM,,,,,,,, I think you’re absolutely right but I wanted to add my own headcannons too cuz I think it could be a very very interesting discussion!!!!!! I’ve put my thoughts under the cut so it doesn’t clog up peoples dashboards!!!!

I couldn’t agree more I think it’d be pretty safe ro say Luis has a FAIR BIT of internalised homophobia from his religious upbringing (now I wanna clarify that I don’t have any religious trauma like, at all, I wasn’t brought up relifious but I have TONS of friends who’ve gone through it so I’ve done my best to understand it best I can!!!!) and where my headcannon sliiiiiiiightly differs from yours is that I think Luis probably would have come to terms with his own queerness by the time he’s working with Umbrella

Obviously he’s already very flamboyant and VERRRRYYY flirty w both men and women and he’s clearly confident in himself- but what a lot of people seem to forget that the lovely @blveherb and @possessionisamyth have gone into detail about is that Luis is an immigrant, and if you look at literally any piece of history from before like,,,, roughly around the 80’s queer and immigrant history were REALLY intertwined, like, the two communities would often be at the same places or facing the same struggles at the same time etc and obviously white historians haven’t done us any favours with preserving this history (and ALSO also i am WHITE AS ALL HELL so im obviously not in a position to be speaking on topics that i dont fully understand/havent affected me which is why i ask that if anyone is more knowledgable on the topic please do elaborate on it!!!!!!!)((also it’s obviously very very important not to try and take away focus from or erase poc history when talking about queer history!!!!!!!!!!!!!))

So I don’t think it would be much of a stretch to say that Luis, after leaving Valdelobos and ending up wherever he did, would have also discovered the queer community as a whole just by virtue of being apart of a minority (again, this isn’t something that’s ever even remotely effected me so please if I’ve made any mistakes or if anyone wants to point anything out do so!!!!) also I just imagine that, in general, Luis would’ve been grateful for any kind of community to fall back on after he left his own- how old he was when he left is unknown obviously but I can’t imagine being barely even an adult discovering the big wide world for the first time after spending your entire life in a tiny rural catholic village would’ve been easy which is why communities like that are so important (also you could absolutely go into how Umbrella would’ve fed that need for a community even further in a young naive Luis but that’s getting ahead of the subject)

Also somewhat on and off topic but M A A N Y historians have pointed out that Don Quixote is a pretty queer fricken book. That’s an entirely different discussion in and of itself but the whole book itself, the relationship between Alonso and Sancho, the history itself surrounding the book etc can leave a lot of queer interpretations to be read (and @highball66 has pointed out that while not specifically a term used for gay men, in some areas ‘Sancho’ has been used to refer to ‘the other guy in the relationship’, ie the man the husband is sleeping with etc) ((AND also it’s just,, kinda hard to analyse super old books through the lens of the LGBTQ+ community as we understand it roday- Kaz Rowe on YouTube has some good videos on the topic I can’t reccomend enough!!!!))

And so I personally like to imagine that by the time he returns BACK to Valdelobos, he’s probably come to terms with it- but like most traumas, returning to the place where it all started and manifested probably would’ve brought up those same feelings of internalised homophobia like you’ve said; which is why he’s so afraid to confess to Leon. Even if he KNOWS he’s come to terms with his identity n such, that doesn’t mean that returning to the place where it all started doesn’t bring back up those old feelings (also him returning home in the manor that he does just makes my theory/headcannon that he’s Trans go WILD but I’m saving that for ANOTHER DAY)

‘He holds Religion very Close to him’ GOD YOURE SO RIGHT ABT THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!! Like even if he doesn’t still believe in god or anything his upbringing still effects him!!!!!!!!!!!!! He still always does the sign of the cross whenever he sees a dead body and obviously that classic catholic guilt and need to repent follows his every actions alongside just, y’know, the average amount of guilt people would feel in his situation BCNEHENDJDND so can you imagine how much WORSE he’d feeling going BACK to Valdelobos and meeting LEON and having all those feelings and fears come up again???????????? OUGH WHY MAKE ME THINK ABT THIS OP /lh

AND and, like you mentioned, Luis always has this reoccurring theme of thinking he has more time than he actually has and that he can run away from anything. It’s honestly so so so very tragic; and just the idea of that cycle repeating AGAIN in something SO PERSONAL (ie, his love for Leon) is just,,,,,,,,,, o u g h it’s so heartbreaking man why would you say that I am strangling you /jjjjjjjj

Luis always thinks he has more time to fix his mistakes, to be a better person- and even when he starts to realise he doesn’t, he still holds out hope. He thinks, ‘tomorrow I’ll tell Leon’, but he never gets that opportunity.

And finally this one is purely self indulgent but I’ve always pictured Luis as being the kind of person to just be happy labelling himself as ‘queer’ cuz it’s quick and convinient but BISEXUAL LUIS SL TRUE

(Also obligatory ‘these are just headcannons/theories/analysis nobody is saying these are CANNON this is just an observation’ message!!!!!!!)

[sea-salted-wolverine]

Had a weird nightmare about a cult

It was in a church, just an average protestant midsized church, you would expect boy scout meetings in the backroom kind of a place. I was there with some anonymous friend/ acquaintance, the pretty older girl from high-school who was popular and yet genuinely nice, her mom is friends with your mom, her family is well known and well liked, offending her would be social suicide not because of anything she would do but because everyone you know would take her side and grant her victim status because she's just so nice.

She had invited me to some function and I was going out of curiosity and obligation, which is the only reason I'm ever in a church anyways. I was guaranteed to know people there, in the same roundabout, you-know-people-I-know kinda way.

Because its about to be relevant, I'm wearing skinny jeans and a sort of blousey black tank top. I've also got black nail polish and thats a fully normal irl outfit for me. Maybe a bit casual for a Sunday-best style church function, but I was not under the impression that's what I was going to.

I show up and am promptly ushered into the coat closet because what I am wearing is completely unacceptable. (I'm calling it a coat closet because that's what it is, but the churches in my area all have a full sized room set aside for outerwear storage because for half the year everyone shows up in a full down parka and that takes up a ton of space)

Anyway, I'm like, "oh shit I didn't realize this was formal, I can run home and change if its okay that I'm a few minutes late, or if someone has a spare dress I'll wear that" which is also something I have done irl. No one ever tells me anything but I'm small and can cinch down big waistlines and make it look intentional that I'm wearing wildly misfit clothing. So like, the dream is getting weird but in the same way that my real actual life gets wierd.

So then she hands me what is fundamental the same thing I'm already wearing, a pair of slightly darker wash skinny jeans that are slightly higher waisted and with more spandex and buttons, and a black polyester/lycra cropped tank top, which is a shirt I've been looking for irl. And she's apologetic about it, as in, "sorry 😞, hope these fit, 😔 might be a little small"

It's a transparent body shaming attempt, because everything is a xs or a size zero, and meant to make you feel uncomfortable and ungainly in too small clothes, but its so badly executed that I just kinda roll with it, like, okay 🤨. Also I like the tank top.

So I change, and she's finding me a bag to stash my clothes in, and some dude sticks his head in the coat closet as I've got one leg in the new pants. And the whole thing feels so very staged, like I'm supposed to be embarrassed about squeezing into too tight pants in front of some acquaintances hot older brother. Either that or my brain is trying to set up some bad porno wet dream and none of the options are working.

Because the pants fit fine and if you have somehow reached adulthood and are scandalized by the sight of a thigh you're the wierd one for being raised under a rock by blind snakes. So I'm figuring out how to fit my phone and wallet into my waistband because these pants don't have pockets and trying to remember whats-his-faces name, I'm almost certain it starts with a j and I've definitely heard it before but I can probably get away with claiming I mixed him up with someone else and not be considered rude, Jacob? Jason? Jeremy? Jed? Oh wait, is he somebody's boyfriend rather than somebody's brother?

But now he's holding my hand and tut-tuting over my nails because I absolutely cannot have black nails, and wouldn't I prefer a nice dusty pink?

At which point I think I kinda woke myself up because the no rice on Tuesdays tactic of high control groups popped into my head, by name, as that specific phrase, and I went "hmm, yep, this is weird, gimme my shit I'm leaving"

But that only conjured up the first girls mom, complete with a really nice travel duffle with my clothes in it. So I'm yanking my clothes out of the bag, because if I take the bag and leave they're going to want it back and that gives them another opening for things they think you owe them. Anyways shes dissapointed in me, in that performative manipulation kinda way. She says something like if I wanted her daughters shirt I can just have it, heavily implying that I'm causing a scene and being an unreasonable bitch, at which point it occurs to me that it's fucking wierd that they have clothes this small at all because everyone in the building is at least 6 inches taller than I am.

Whats-his-face is still hovering and now he's got a hand on my shoulder thats meant to be reassurance and all I can think is wow you guys are really bad at this. I can hear people in the next room and I know they're people like, my grandparents friends and prospective employers and other important social connections and I need to get out of here without making a scene, which isn't gonna happen.

At some point I said Jesus Christ in the context of a frustrated curse word, which they all jumped on and said I needed to let the lord into my heart or some shit. To which sleepytime subconscious responded to with CAUSE A SCENE AND CONTROL THE NARRATIVE!!!

So I raised my voice loud enough to be heard in the other room and told the guy to get his hands off me or I would punch him in the dick. And because no one believes you when you tell them you're going to punch them in the dick he did not take his hands off me and was calmly and rationally requesting that I calm down and be civil so I followed through and punched him in the dick.

Committing physical violence in a dream always wakes me up, pretty much immediately, but I did get a few glimpses of storming out through a crowd, yelling about entitled pricks in closets and if anyone ever felt like leaving the cult I would give them a hand.

So yeah. What's your religious trauma look like?

[captain-mj]

Heya, I love your writing! It’s the good shit.

Talking about good shit, you have dragged me into price x graves hell. It’s cozy here, so I‘m not complaining, but your recent angst headcanons for them made me crave more.

If you have the time/motivation for it, would you be up for expanding on those? It can take any form, really. More headcanons or maybe a short drabble about an instance where Price couldn’t trust Graves' word, but it came out he was being truthful (or anything about any of the previous headcanons rly (the food as apology hit different ngl), I just need angst rn).

Hope you have an amazing day! :D

The food apology has not left my brain, so here you go! Included a couple of my headcanons here

~~~~

Graves was staring a hole into him. "So you don't trust me?"

"Look, it's not that."

"No. It is that. It's good fucking intel, Price. Makarov will be there tomorrow. I have a few people who work there and..." Graves trailed off, just staring at him. He looked hurt and Price didn't get why.

"Graves. You can't tell me who the source is and... you know what happened in Mexico. I can't tell my team this intel on your word alone." Price was tired of this conversation. It felt like they had some version of it every week. He waited for Graves to do what he normally does, get angry. Maybe raise his voice a little before just giving up because he knew Price wouldn't budge.

Not this time. Graves quietly pulled on his coat, not looking at Price this time. Price frowned and went to touch his shoulder but Graves pulled back.

"I get it. I understand I... I messed up in Mexico. Really badly. Did things I'm not proud of. But you said you forgave me." He looked up at him. "If it really was just your team you're worried about, I'd accept it. But this isn't about your team. You just... don't trust me at all. You don't trust me with anything." Graves didn't look angry. "I'm going to head out for a bit. Want to grab some stuff for tonight."

Price sighed. "I'm sorry."

Graves looked up at him before shrugging and leaving.

Price went to his office as normal. They were all on base, plus Alex which was nice. He was American so a lot of them used him as a translator for Graves because asking that man to explain himself usually just made them more confused. Graves had laughed when he found out, saying he was glad someone spoke both their languages.

Price shouldn't have brought up Mexico. He sighed, watching Soap and Ghost continued their conversation about the map and best plans of execution. The map they were talking about was where Makarov had been seen lately. It made zero sense on its own, just a confusing set of points that looked painfully random.

Graves came in and paused. Most of his team had gravitated towards his office so there was quite a few people in his way.

"Ghost." Graves handed him a bowl. "Hand that to Price. Your stupid British stores are annoying, had to travel across your entire goddamn country." Ghost did as told, setting the food in front of Price.

Ghost looked up. "How the fuck did you make gumbo here?"

"How the fuck do you know what gumbo is?"

"I was stuck in Texas a while, don't want to talk about it, do you have more? Is it good? I'll pay?"

Soap hit him lightly, trying not to laugh.

Price was still stuck on what gumbo was.

"Well, I had to make a few substitutions and the base kitchen was missing some things, but you make do. There's plenty if you guys want some."

Alex and Ghost were gone.

Price frowned. "Why did you bring me food? You usually just wait for me to not be busy."

Graves blushed the smallest bit. "Look, it just got done cooking so eat it or don't." He crossed his arms.

Price quickly tried a bite, not wanting to be on Graves's bad side anymore than he already was. It was spicier than he was expecting, but good. Really good.

Gaz stole the spoon from his hand to try it. He got up. "I'll be right back."

Soap looked at Graves. "Ya didn't poison it did you?"

"I wouldn't waste the food on you guys. Would've just made fucking beans on toast." Graves glared at him. Soap nodded and noticing he was alone with them, quickly left.

"I hope you like it." Graves looked shy, not looking at him anymore. "Felt kinda homesick. Knew some of your crew had experience with the South and thought it would be nice."

Price got up and pulled him over, kissing him softly. He felt Graves stiffen before melting. They wrapped their arms around each other and stayed still for a minute. Price squeezed him before hearing his phone buzz. He pulled away to check it and saw that Makarov had been seen. Exactly where Graves said he would.

Graves looked at his phone and he could feel him biting his tongue to not say 'I told you so'.

"I'm sorry..."

"It's okay." Graves didn't have any inflection in his voice. "Do you guys have time?"

"We'll attempt. Do you want to come?"

Graves looked excited. "Yes. I'd love to come."

Price squeezed him a little tighter. Neither knew how to apologize. It seemed to work just fine for today.

[im-a-marion3tt3]

...at this point i might as well just make a home for myself in your inbox, haha !! (please please please tell me if i'm in here too often !!) i notice that you're still wanting fic requests so i can't stop myself from popping in again :0

i have two suggestions, but goodness, please don't feel pressured to write both. and if neither of them interest you, that's completely fine too !! <3 (as a cw, both requests are related to your sh/ed fics)

the first is a request for (yet another O_O) continuation of the swiss/phantom storyline. you've left me wanting more again, haha !! so perhaps swiss' screaming match conversation with dew and rain about their negative influence on phantom ?

if that doesn't take your fancy, the line in sickeningly sweet "sure he told mountain a lot but never that much" has also got me wanting more of your writing and storytelling ! i'd be really interested to know what you think phantom has and hasn't told mountain in regards to his issues with eating (and maybe even dew as well, because mountain mentioning that dew told him a few extra details that phantom hadn't has got my brain running wild with possibilities !!)

this got very long, i'm so sorry :0 and i have so, so much more to say about all of your writing too !!? but i'll leave this ask as it is for the moment, since it's already quite long <3

Omg sorry I took so long writing this. I like drowning in work rn but I finally have the time to write again! I like your idea of Mountain and Dew so here you go! Thank you for the suggestion so much and I hope you like it! Sorry it's a little short.

Dew was laid on Mountain's chest, the two of them inside of the green house on a reclining patio chair. Gently, Mountain dragged his hair through Dewdrops long hair as he gently hummed. He had been working with both Phantom and Dewdrop on their eating, being the only ghoul to have enough patience and not tell the two to "just eat". So he found himself here, enjoying the warmth of the greenhouse.

"How's Tom?" Dewdrop asked softly after a few minutes of silence. After Mountain had taken him through the list of genuinely concerning side effects, Dewdrop had felt terrible for what he had done and turned to worrying for Phantom far more than himself.

"He's getting there but it's not great. He cried over having to eat breakfast. It took him half an hour to even try it but it's better than last week when he simply fell asleep rather than ate," Mountain said in a sad tone. It had broken his heart to see the poor kit distraught over essentially nothing; but he knew it was basically everything to Phantom.

"I'm so sorry," Dewdrop whispered, his heart shattering some. Mountain just rubbed his back and sighed, feeling sorry for both of them.

"It's all my fault, Mountain, I was the one who started this," he murmured biting back tears before continuing on in a meek voice, "I d-didnt realize he was going to do this so sometimes I'd point out the calories in things I wouldn't eat. I didn't even think he knew what a calorie was. And I said so much hurtful shit after that too. I thought he wanted me to be mean to him, I really did. I thought I was making him better by being worse." Tears streaked down his face by this point as Mountain held him close, just letting him get it all out.

"And, and, I made him hate his favorite food. Do you remember when Copia would get him cakes or cookies or just something sweet after every concert? And how happy he was to get them? He was so proud of himself... And I said he looked so much better not having eaten that shit. That it showed on his hips and that it was the reason he was starting to look like a little piglet. Why did I ever say that? This is all my fault!" At this point Dewdrop was sobbing, his body shaking as he cried. Mountain just held him tightly and let him cry. To think that both of them thought like that though, it made him want to cry too. They were both getting better though, and that was what mattered. What had been said couldn't be undone, so all that was left was to hopefully undue the damages.

[naffeclipse]

I come from the depths of chapter 15 with a humble comment to offer! \o/

Goooooosh, so many things are happening and I've just been staring at the ask window wondering how to even start kfjdhgkjh

Ok, ok, so the start! Oooh the start of the chapter was all the tension I was expecting and then some! There of course wouldn't have been time to talk immediately after, when the hunters still wanted to see if they could catch up with the escaped demon. I guess it's a good thing it was postponed until nighttime, because Lambert was every kind of done with them XD Caught between, "I got a feeling this is a demon actually" and "if it's not, then coworker melodrama is not something I signed up for when hunting a demon dinosaur" pffft. Good thing he was asleep for that discussion!

But oh that discussion though!!!

The hunter throwing their hypocrisy in their face, of wanting to know the important details but not being provided with them; the fact that they just keep twisting the dagger deeper in trying to keep y/n safe and realizing it too late; and oh gosh especially the part where they tell them they can't hunt this cryptid and that they could make them leave.

Like, for most of the fic y/n has only gotten more and more desperate to prove to them (and themselves) that they CAN deal with the cryptids and protect other people, and yet for so many of them it feels like even through victory, their conclusion is always "they saw me stumble, but maybe they believe in me still". But now it feels that they have been clinging to something that wasn't there and if they already struggled with self doubt, the fact that someone that has lived with them and seen them so closely seems to be confirming that they have never truly been worthy or proved themselves is eating them from the inside out.

And ooooh, when Moon said "we can", oh my gosh I had to stop reading for a few minutes because my brain could not stop throwing possibilities of what could happen if they did do it. (but I see this is already gonna be long so I'll try to leave the scenario that popped in my head for another ask XD Just, all the implications of them knowing Sun and Moon didn't trust them and then losing the trust they had granted to the boys ahhhhh).

But the firmness with which the hunter refused caught my attention. Because it's unthinkable to them. They have explained why they do what they do. How much it means to them. It's a hard boundary right there, telling them to never ask them to leave a hunt again. It's not something they're willing to walk away from. It's what they are, and what they feel gives them purpose. They clutch to the journal like a lifeline because in a way it sort of is. It's all their efforts written down, the only way they know how to live, and the thing they use to assign worth to themselves. Right now it probably feels like the only way to believe in themselves when the ones they want the most to trust them apparently do not.

And aaaah, those last lines after they drifted off! Sun and Moon's resolution to never lie isn't worth much when the secrets make y/n doubt them like this.

Then we get to the boy's perspective!

Not gonna lie, last chapter I was just dying to get a section in which we got to see what they were thinking (though I do think it's fitting we didn't as it really put emphasis on the distance that was growing between them and y/n) so when I saw the one in this one I got so excited! XD Gosh the mention of how they already consumed the hearts of the earlier dead humans and how they placed the flowers back on them after had my heart aching. They love y/n in big part for their kind heart, so they respect this act of kindness even when to them the corpses aren't significant at all. It matters to y/n so it matters to them too! ;o;

And oooh the confrontation with the other demon! They tried to warn it to leave, to not draw so much attention, which is what called y/n to the area in the first place, but that went about expected. So sorry to the boys, but no option but a future confrontation between the hunters and the demon (Oh, I found a neat detail from this conversation that Shoh is able to know the words that people have spoken! There is a lot of power in words after all! A lot of experiences, and emotions!)

God and then they go back and the hurt just continues on. The hunter frantically looking for them in the night, and the boys knowing they are worried, but still unable to tell them anything that won't cause any more hurt just agggghhh!

And then the next day! When they get that moment to talk and the liquid is dripping from them! It's not only the hunter who is crying! (even if they are unable to cry in the same way)

(sidenote: I love all the descriptions of Sun and Moon reacting as if they were receiving physical damage when y/n is cold to them. They're up to this point the strongest being we have seen in the fic, and it's only y/n who can actually hurt them so easily. That's the thing they are discovering about having a heart, huh? It hurts sometimes. Very badly. And yet it's always worth keeping).

But ahhhh, y/n is finally getting some doubts! They shoot them down immediately, again because of their belief that a demon would never do the things Sun and Moon have done for them, but I imagine the fight between them has made place for some wondering to take root. Lucky for the boys, (but not for Lambert), that the demon appeared!

(sidenote 2: when you described the temperature dropping when Shoh appeared, it occurred to me that in the heat of the desert, having them along would probably be very appreciated fdkjsgñkj)

Oh, the fight with Shoh was so cool! Lots happening and I was legitimately wondering if there would come the moment in which the boys would be forced out of the vessel! Oh man, when the detector was crushed and y/n felt it, it made me think of how long it must have accompanied them. Perhaps a silly thought when the cryptid is right in front of them, but once again, y/n puts a lot of them into their work. And that detector probably saved them in more than one occassion. So rip detector, you won't live to see them realize you never lied about the animatronic.

And I also want to say rip Lambert, but uh... that might lend itself for an unfortunate pun given his death fdkjghdkjhñgf Seriously, though, he did hold his ground, managing a couple hits, and I felt the camaraderie when he was encouraging y/n! I feel so bad that his death was so brutal. No wonder y/n was thrown into a nervous breakdown after seeing it happen. Who wouldn't, right?

And then we go back to the issue with how they only see worth in themselves as long as they are brave. As long as they reject the effects of fear and push through them. To me it seems like their job started as a way to fight back against those nightmares. A way to see themselves as more than that terror that wouldn't leave them be after the day in which a demon attacked them. And it was! It probably helped them in a very big way, to feel strong and that they could keep going after such a horrific experience. But now they have sort of let it be only that. Their perspective has shifted and now they seem to have taken it to the extreme in which if they think they aren't capable of ignoring the fear (instead of deal with it) to do what they need to do, even if all circumstances would make it ok for them to fear (the primary function of fear is to keep you alive after all), then they are worthless. (Damaged, they think, and isn't that the whole root of the problem huh?) They think it would be better to prove that not even certain death would deter them from at least trying to do good. To defy the real "nightmare". Dying if it means taking the opponent down because then it would mean they beat the fear. Theirs and all the other people's.

Of course Sun and Moon would want to snap them out of that! Because they are not seeing all that they already are. All the worth they already have just by being themselves. That they ARE brave and it has nothing to do with the desperation to drive fear away. They already are so strong, but they can't throw that away because of their desire to self-punish out of thinking they aren't enough due to the gargantuan expectations they have put on themselves.

And perhaps it's precisely reminding them that that inspires the boys to finally come clean? Of course, there's also the factor of their secrets affecting y/n so badly, that they are hurting them. But also they have witnessed thanks to the hunter what true bravery is. They themselves have never truly had much to lose. They have been around from ancient times, and that might have made them secure in what they know and have experienced, sure of the outcome of most future events. They've protected children, of course, but it certainly wasn't the same. This is new to them. They've probably never been this afraid. Now it's their turn to push against the fear, even if the outcome is uncertain. They are all drowning and it's time to do something about it.

But ahh, that plot twist at the end! I have a feeling... with Vanessa coming, that reveal will not be on their terms. There might be an encounter of three demons now, and I just have no idea how it all is gonna go. I'm. Vibrating. In my seat. From excitement kjlhfskdjg

And there's still a whole episode left after this one! Naff I'm so excited for what you have in store!!! Excellent chapter as always!

"Humble comment" *proceeds to give me the most glorious comment* hehehe ♥ Thank you so much for reading, babe!

Chaotik, I am grabbing my screen right now, very curious about this scenario of yours where the boys take Y/N away. Ahhh, I would love to hear it!!!

Yes, that is a very hard boundary for Y/N! This is their work and they will not abandon it.

"It matters to y/n so it matters to them too!" <<< YES! YES, IT DOES! AH!

"That's the thing they are discovering about having a heart, huh? It hurts sometimes. Very badly. And yet it's always worth keeping." I am kissing you on the forehead for this *smooch*

Oh my gosh, I love that you talk about Y/N's focus on facing what terrorized them so long ago! It did start out as a way to handle their fears, but in recent times with the boys seemingly doubting their abilities as well as other stressful factors, it's begun to take a toll on their thinking and warped their idea from "it's okay to be scared so long as you don't let it stop you," to "you can't be scared anymore because you have to do more and prove that you can take care of everything or else what is the point if you can't stop other nightmares?" It's not healthy, and thankfully, the boys are there to show just that.

The boys are unsure how to navigate a romantic relationship and realize that wow, okay, this is actually not the right way to go about it with our partner. Not to mention, it was a wake-up call to have Y/N call them out for not 'believing' in their bravery, which wasn't correct, but it did reveal their own fears of rejection. So, taking after their heart, they decided it was time to be brave, too.

"There might be an encounter of three demons now" LAJSFDLASFD

POV: You're a cryptid hunter facing three demon cryptids