#that's decorated with pictures and odds and ends

[shadowxamyweek]

[bi-writes]

hiiiii I'm new to your page but i would like to ask you what would've happened if simon mail-ordered a bride?

mail-order bride

you stare down at the address on the card, blinking as you reread the house number and look back up at the cottage in front of you. the numbers match, but you just need a few more minutes before you knock on the door.

you're not holding too many things. you have one suitcase with the entirety of your belongings at one side, the cat carrier sitting on top of it. on the other side, you hold a bundle of papers. your immigration papers, all shiny and new, your birth certificate, and your new british passport.

when you look back down, you swallow as you read over your name. it's odd, to see something new in the section labeled SURNAME.

Riley.

you've never met him. this isn't legal, it can't be, to have all of these things. he must be someone important. someone they value. or maybe, they are just too afraid to say no to him.

the front door opens, and you freeze on the spot as you see someone duck their head to step outside. they're wearing a mask, covering their entire face except for their dark eyes, but it's hitched up over his nose as he holds an unlit cigarette between his lips.

he stares as he sees you at the end of the steps. he frowns, looking you up and down.

"weren't supposed ta be 'ere for a few weeks."

your eyes water a little, but you only manage a shrug.

"i-i..." you meet his eyes. "i-i couldn't stay there any longer. i didn't have anywhere else to go."

he tucks the cigarette back behind his ear, slipping the mask off. it reveals a tousled mess of short blonde hair and a terribly scarred face. his eyes dart to the little carrier sitting next to you when he hears a soft meow coming from it.

"said no pets."

your lip trembles.

"please," you whisper, and his lip twitches as he fights off a scowl. you imagine he must not have much practice in hiding his emotions. he comes down the steps anyways, coming closer, and you pick up the carrier as he snatches the suitcase off the pavement, making his way back inside. you follow him, naturally.

when you close the door behind you, you're surprised at how quaint it all is. nice brick fireplace, a soft carpet (no shoes allowed is what he snapped at you), and wonderfully furnished to make the place cozy, warm, lived-in. there's throw blankets and accent pillows. there's pictures on the walls, paintings, yellow corner lights to give everything a soft glow. the kitchen is beautiful, with lovely colored tile and wooden cutting boards, a drip-coffee setup in the corner and worn cookbooks stacked neatly by a stainless steel toaster. there's herbs growing in little pots sitting on the windowsill above the sink, and there's a cast iron pot decoratively resting on the stove.

it's spick-span clean. there's no specks of dust or splatters left over from bacon grease. there's papers pinned to the fridge, lists to remind him to buy whole milk and sliced bread and call about the internet bill being charged twice again.

you set the carrier down on the couch, unzipping the top. a little curious black head pokes out of it, and you reach in and pick the cat up under its belly and drop it onto the floor. immediately, the cat spreads its front paws, claws sticking out as they begin to knead the carpet and use it as a personal scratcher, the prick, prick, prick sound enough to draw the giant man out of the bedroom with a hard frown on his face.

he points at the thing and shakes his head.

"keep tha' thing off the fawkin' counter," he snaps at you. he purses his lips when he sees you still standing there, afraid to even move. he comes closer, the cat scurrying off, and he yanks your coat and scarf off, going to the hang them up by the door. "can unpack tomorrow. need t'make somethin' ta eat."

you move immediately towards the kitchen, hoping he keeps a stocked fridge, but he puts out a big hand and stops you, stepping in front of you.

"the fuck are y'doin'?" he asks, and you blink up at him.

"you said to make dinner...s-sir?"

he tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes.

"y'listen t'this," he murmurs. "women don't lift a fuckin' finger in this house, y'hear?"

you nod, and he reaches up and palms your throat, cupping your jaw.

"and my wife doesn't call me sir," he mutters. "it's simon."

you soften a little. "i-i'm sorry, simon."

"don't apologize," he grits his teeth. "did nothin' wrong."

when a fresh set of tears comes down your face, he wipes them away with ease, calloused thumb swiping over your cheeks and quieting you. he puts something into your hands, a velvet box that he must've gotten when he went to put your suitcase away.

"y'r a riley now, yeah?" he murmurs, and you tilt your head at an angle, and your foreheads brush together when he bends low to speak to you. "act like it."

you lean up on your toes (he's so fucking tall), and you kiss him softly beside his mouth. when he moves his head, your lips brush against each other, but he pulls back to make his way to the kitchen. you hear the gas stove light up, and a few minutes later, there's a familiar smell of onions hitting hot olive oil.

you take a seat on the couch, smiling to yourself, wiping your eyes as you curl up there. you flip open the box, sighing shakily when you see the rectangular diamond and matching gold wedding band. when simon comes back in to give you a mug of tea, you take it with your left hand, and his eyes flicker when he notices the new jewelry there, so pretty, so new.

mine.

when he pads back into the kitchen, the cat blinks up at him slowly, green eyes bright as they sit on the counter.

simon walks past it, saying nothing at all.

[criminalamnesia]

everyone’s asking for a part two so here is more angst bc cedar by gracie abrams is perfect for this [ also inspired by what @shotmrmiller said in their reblog :)) ]

part one here

part three (aka version 1 of the ending) here

part three (ending version 2) here

it’s odd coming home to an empty house. unnerving, even. he doesn’t like it— dislikes it even more than he did your celebrations. fuck, he’d kill for those damn streamers right now.

“love?” his voice is soft as he calls out into the dark, once lively little flat. it hasn’t felt this big since before you had moved in.

he takes a few more steps inside, toeing off his boots and letting his backpack fall to the floor. by now, you would’ve been launching yourself into his arms. where were you? you’d never missed the day he came home. ever. you would have it marked on your calendar from the day he left, exclamation points and stars decorating the date.

“love?” he calls again, his voice a little louder. he keeps moving; notices there’s no smell of freshly baked goods or a home-cooked meal.

he rounds the corner, his eyes instantly finding the little note propped up on the dining table. eyebrows furrowed, he approaches. it’s addressed to him, clearly in your handwriting.

he reads it, and he really should’ve seen all of this coming.

he doesn’t cry. doesn’t even feel sad, really. it’s not like he hadn’t loved you— he had, but sometimes you made it really damn difficult to. your constant touches and words, doting on him, talking his ear off about this and that. he’d loved it at first, then came to tolerate it, and eventually he found himself hating it.

it wasn’t fair to you. he didn’t hate you, he hated the naivety. the unconditional love. partners were supposed to show each other that kind of love, were they not? so why did he come to despise it?

perhaps it was some deep rooted self-hatred. something dark and twisted inside of him that had done too much and taken life. killed and killed and killed. watched his comrades die in a number of ways. slowly. quickly. suddenly. brutally.

it hollowed him out, but it was his job. it was his job to do what he could for the damn world— get his hands dirty so people like you would never have to worry about a damn thing.

he should’ve seen it coming. you had been acting a little odd the last time he was home, he realizes now. detached, almost. quieter. he had cherished the quiet then.

now it was weird. he didn’t know how to feel.

he placed the note back down onto the table before making his way into the kitchen. some utensils were missing. some plates and bowls. the colorful dishrags you’d hung from the stove handle. the little plant you’d stationed in front of the window above the sink.

all the pictures of the two of you remained on the fridge. he could see in the photos how he slowly became detached. but you— god, you wore that dazzling smile in every photo.

he turned around and headed towards the bedroom.

——————————————————————

there wasn’t really any defining closure. you’d left the note, sure, but he hadn’t gotten to speak his piece.

would he have begged you to stay? told you to leave?

he didn’t know. all he knew was that it wasn’t fair to you, how he acted. what he did.

he also knew that if you called, or if you showed up and said you forgot something, or hell, if he saw you on the street, he’d say something. apologize at least, because that’s the least you deserved.

but you didn’t, and after a few days, he stopped thinking about you. what you’d be telling him right now if you were there. stopped thinking about how you sang when you cooked dinner. how you would reach for his hand when the two of you were in the grocery store.

how you would throw those damn ‘welcome home!’ parties.

he fell back into who he was, and your memory became nothing but a minuscule dot on a large piece of paper.

but for you? you had been miserable when you’d shown up at your friends apartment. cried into her shoulder as you told her about the note. sobbed as you realized that he didn’t care about you, and how you’d wasted so much time on this man who didn’t give a damn.

but even still, when you stirred in the middle of the night, you expected to feel his hands around your body. expected him to press a kiss to your head as you drifted back to sleep.

you woke up and expected him to be there. you forgot that he wasn’t yours. you found yourself missing him, even though you’d starting doing that far before you actually left.

it took the man you loved days to move on. it took you months— almost a year. he put you in fucking therapy, for god’s sake, because that shit messes with someone.

loving someone so completely, so wholly, only to finally realize it’s one sided? it’s crushing. he crushed you. but you picked up the pieces, and you put yourself back together.

you move on. find someone who actually cares for you— someone who communicates and doesn’t lose interest. someone who appreciates your enthusiasm. someone who returns it.

and when the man that broke your heart several years ago tries to stop you on the street one day,

you keep walking.

[uvobreakmylegs]

Waiting

part 2 of the Cute Hunter!reader fic but from the perspective of a different troupe member

Part 1 (Chrollo x reader)

Phinks x Cute Hunter!reader

Warnings: captivity, angst, death, body horror, this is a Phinks x reader fic but there's still Chrollo x reader moments

Word Count: 12.8k

Phinks saw Chrollo standing alone, waiting at the top of a short flight of stairs that lead to the entrance of a lone house which stood amid a nearby forest and long open fields. No doubt he had sensed the enhancer coming. There weren't any other structures in sight, and the last time Phinks remembered seeing any sort of home outside of the one he was currently looking at was several miles back along the route he had taken. Being able to tell that someone was approaching would've been easy.

The long car ride Phinks had embarked on came to an end when he stopped in the driveway, and after he collected the plastic bag that had been sitting in the front seat next to him during the entirety of the drive, the blonde stepped out of the car and slammed the door firmly behind him. He then paused for a moment, observing the area that surrounded him.

The multitude of various types of flowers which decorated the area in front of the house caught his attention first. Starting beneath the front porch and heading down the slight incline, rows of flowers stretched across the area, the colors consisting largely of red, orange and yellow. What any of those kinds of flowers were called, he couldn't even begin to guess – he'd never been the type of guy to care about things like that. Chrollo probably didn't care too much about them either. In fact, the entire picture of the home felt weird since it didn't seem to fit with Chrollo's typical aesthetic.

Though it did fit perfectly with yours.

Taking one last glance at the flowers while approaching Chrollo, Phinks noted the section towards one end of the flower bed that was barren as only dirt took up the space.

That seemed a bit odd.

He quickly turned his attention away as he approached the stairs.

“Hello, Phinks,” Chrollo said as the enhancer came closer.

“Hey boss,” Phinks said in turn.

Phinks stopped upon reaching the porch, the plastic bag in his hand swinging slightly as he came to a halt.

“Sorry if this was a bit too last minute,” the blonde said, one hand coming up to scratch at the back of his head.

“Not at all,” Chrollo said, “it's good to see you again.”

Phinks raised a brow in question.

“It hasn't been that long since we last saw each other.”

“No, but I'm always happy to see you and the others outside of jobs.”

Chrollo leaned against one of the pillars of the porch as he added “and I think this visit from you will be good for them.”

He hadn't needed to specify who he was talking about for Phinks to understand who he meant, and as he was once more reminded of the purpose of this visit, he unconsciously shifted his grip on the plastic bag in his hand.

That action drew Chrollo's gaze downward, noting the object held within with curiosity and slight fascination – it was the entire reason why Phinks had requested this impromptu meeting with you.

“I have to admit, I was surprised when you told me that you managed to get one of those,” he said.

“Same here, honestly. I wasn't expecting to come across one.”

“How did you find it?” Chrollo asked.

“Completely by chance,” Phinks replied, looking down at the bag briefly as he said “some arms dealer had it. Said he'd give me a good price when he caught me staring at it.”

Chrollo looked back up to him as he asked “did you actually pay for it?”

“Of course not. I beat the shit out of him and took it.”

Chrollo chuckled as he said “taking after Uvo again, I see.”

“I'm not that bad,” Phinks huffed, “but the guy pissed me off so I decided not to pay him.”

“But you left him alive?”

“Yeah, but I'm not worried about retaliation. That guy will be too focused on recovering to worry about me.”

“It must have been quite the beat down, then,” Chrollo commented.

“Not really. It was a couple hits at most. Even for a non nen user, that guy was weak,” Phinks answered.

Chrollo chuckled again.

“I'll trust your judgment, then. But if you are hunted down for what you did, I'll expect you to take care of it if there's any interference with troupe business,” Chrollo said, though his tone was more lighthearted than serious.

“If we do have trouble because of that, I'll take care of it,” Phinks answered, “or I'll send Uvo to go do it. It doesn't take much for him to join a fistfight.”

Chrollo hummed in agreement.

Then the boss stepped aside, motioning to the interior of the home with his head as he said “please, come in.”

Phinks nodded.

Chrollo again motioned for Phinks to follow, and then the two men entered the home, cutting through a few different rooms as Chrollo led the way to the back of the structure. The inside matched more with what he knew of Chrollo's tastes, Phinks noted to himself. Lots of art, elegant looking furniture, and several different bookshelves that were filled with what were likely old and very pricey books. There were a few different pieces, both books and art alike, that he recognized had come from previous heists. Pieces that would likely be gone from the home within a matter of months once Chrollo tired of them, though there was a slight chance that some of them might stay permanently if his leader felt strongly enough for them.

But mixed in with all of that were little signs of you.

Often it came in the form of a pop of color that stood out against the deep, rich shades of Chrollo's normal aesthetic, and always in the form of some sort of plant life, sitting among or next to the expanse of a largely stolen collection. The flowers he could see were a mix of the colors you tended to use most often: pink, yellow, purple and white. All different types of flowers, and once again none of which were ones that Phinks knew the name of.

But maybe he should try to learn at some point. For you.

“Where are they?” Phinks asked when he didn't see you.

“Outside, around the back,” Chrollo answered.

Phinks' brows furrowed in question.

“Outside? Alone?”

“It's fine. They know now what's expected of them.”

Chrollo stopped before a pair of sliding glass doors that opened up to the backyard, and beyond a wooden deck attached to the home, Phinks caught sight of a figure that was sitting in the middle of an open field. His grip on the bag tightened a fraction when he looked at you; even with how far away you were, there was a sense of gloom that surrounded you.

“How's it been with them?” Phinks asked.

“I wish I could say that they've been a bit more accepting,” Chrollo answered as he slid open one door, “but even though they don't fight me on everything, there's still too much resistance on their part. They'll listen, but only begrudgingly.”

Phinks' face fell slightly as he asked “should I not go, then?”

“No, you should. You came all this way to see them, after all. And perhaps seeing you will encourage good behavior.”

But before he stepped back, Chrollo glanced over at the enhancer as he said “I'm sure I don't need to tell you not to mention what happened the other week.”

“I figured, boss.”

After hearing that, Chrollo stepped aside, allowing Phinks unhindered access to the outdoors. The blonde obliged, stepping forward and making his way to where you sat.

Having once again returned to the outdoors, Phinks once again found himself looking at the details in the area that surrounded him. Stepping down from the stairway of the backyard deck, he noticed what appeared to be a small vegetable garden to his right. More of your work, he assumed. Being able to grow food from anything was a handy aspect of your ability, he had to admit. With that, you'd never go hungry.

Having something like that would've been nice when you were all growing up in Meteor City, he noted to himself.

It was definitely a better way to use it than your whole thing with the flowers.

Speaking of which, the field that he was walking into was barren of them, as when he glanced about again, all he could see was green grass. That felt odd. In the other places where you'd lived with Chrollo, you made a point to fill up as much of the area as you could with flowers, much like the way you had added greenery to the inside. Much like the way you had decorated the front of the house, actually, though that too had a space that was oddly empty. Clearly you had started on that at one point, so it was strange that you hadn't continued, out front or back here.

Did Chrollo not give your ability back until today?

If that was the case, then it was better not to say anything.

Phinks was able to see more as he came closer to where you were sitting – the way you sat with your legs crossed, the way your fingers grasping at a wild patch of grass that stood next you and the way you stared absentmindedly at the clouds overhead while the breeze ruffled your clothing. It felt slightly picturesque, with you being in the middle of the nature you loved so much, even if it did seem weird that you hadn't yet decorated the field with flowers.

What kind would you choose if you did?

The enhancer found his mind blanking on an answer. The basic flower names that he knew off the top of his head probably weren't ones that you would choose.

Turning his attention back to you, he found that from where he was currently, you looked a bit better than you had the last time he'd seen you.

He frowned to himself.

The last time he'd seen you, you had been blinking back tears and glaring at him when he tried to come close, silently making it clear that you didn't want anything to do with him. While the way in which you pushed him away from you had hurt, he did what you wanted, not wanting to agitate you further.

But maybe now you'd be okay with him coming close.

Phinks continued to walk towards you, his gaze never straying from where you sat in the middle of that field. He saw the moment when you noticed him – though you didn't turn around to look at him, you stiffened slightly as you sensed his presence. While you clearly knew he was there, you didn't acknowledge him, keeping yourself turned away from him while your gaze fell down to your lap.

That wasn't great, but you weren't turning to glare at him like you had last time. So that was something, at least.

When he was nearly upon you, he called out to you.

“Hey,” Phinks greeted.

“….. Hey,” you replied.

“How's it been?” he asked, stopping next to you. You weren't looking up at him and were still keeping your gaze on your lap.

“I don't know,” was your answer.

…. Phinks wasn't sure what to say to that. With Chrollo letting you out and about without any sort of leash to keep you tethered, metaphorical or otherwise, the enhancer had thought maybe you'd be a bit more receptive to him, that you might be in better spirits over the whole situation.

Instead, you seemed rather listless as you sat there, staring down at nothing with a blank expression.

Maybe if he kept talking, he'd break through to you.

“This is a nice place,” Phinks commented as he glanced over the area.

“Is it?” you asked.

“I mean, I thought so? I'm not even that much of a nature lover, but this seems like an ideal spot if you want to get away from everything and go back to your roots. It's the kind of space I usually picture you being in,” Phinks said.

“Hm.”

….. That response of yours wasn't promising.

“You don't agree?” he asked.

“It's hard to enjoy much of anything when you have Chrollo constantly breathing down your neck,” you said.

“Oh.”

Experience told Phinks not to argue with you over your feelings on Chrollo. Doing so was a surefire way for you to become irritated or even outright angry with him. Though he could handle your anger, he didn't like seeing you that way.

But with how listless you were at the moment, he found that he didn't mind the thought of you being upset if just so he could see some sort of emotion on your face.

You didn't give him a chance to say anything, however, as you spoke before he could.

“So,” you began, a sigh in your voice as you asked “did you come here just to have me make you weed again?”

Phinks blinked.

“No,” he answered defensively.

“That's a surprise,” you answered dryly, “did Chrollo tell you not to ask for that anymore?”

“Like he gives a shit about that.”

You hummed. Then finally, you looked over to him, your eyes immediately going to the bag he held.

“It doesn't look like there are beer cans in there. Am I making weed out of something else?” you asked.

“I'm not here for that!” he insisted.

With a huff, Phinks held the bag out as he said “I'm here for you. I brought you something.”

“… Something for me?” you asked, your tone slightly suspicious.

There was a bit more life in your voice when you asked that, and Phinks found himself feeling more hopeful when you turned to look at him. One of your eyebrows was raised in question as you looked between him and the plastic bag. Even though it wasn't necessarily a happy expression, it was a far cry from the listless, dead look in your eyes that had been there moments earlier.

“Take it,” Phinks urged you, holding out the bag further.

Staying seated on the ground, you reached out, gently gripping the handles as you pulled it towards yourself. Your fingers brushed against his for a moment – only for a moment, as he relinquished the bag once it was in your grasp. When you grasped the handles with both hands and pulled it open to peer inside, there was a change in you.

A light sparkled in your eyes that hadn't been there before as you gazed at the contents of the bag.

That sight stirred up memories from your shared childhood.

The pot with bunches of pink flowers amid green leaves instantly caught Phinks' attention when he stepped into the worn-down structure that served as a home for you, Feitan and himself, and he looked at it in question from where it had been placed in the center of the room while you sat close by, your gaze going to the entrance as Phinks stepped in and smiling at him in greeting.

“Hey, Phinks,” you said to him.

“Hey,” he answered before looking back to the flowers, “what's this?”

“Flowers.”

He narrowed his gaze in annoyance at your response.

“I can see that. But why are they here?”

“Why? Um….. I wanted them? And nobody else seemed interested in them, so…..”

Phinks raised an eyebrow as he asked “are you sure that's a good idea? Last time I checked, you didn't know anything about taking care of plants.”

You shifted slightly as you placed a hand on the base of the potted plant, as if you were worried he was going to take them away.

“It can't be that hard, right? I just need to make sure it gets plenty of sunlight and water,” you answered.

“We only have so much clean water to go around. We can't spare any for that,” he countered.

“I'll give it some of my share. You and Feitan won't need to worry about it.”

“I'm not letting you go without water for a plant.”

“I'll be fine.”

“No, you won't.”

“I will. I'm sure I can find a way to make it work.”

“Yeah, by letting yourself go thirsty, which I'm not gonna let happen,” Phinks said.

“I'll be okay.”

You said that as you went as far as to gather the pot into your arms and on your lap, making it even more clear that you feared he would attempt to take it away from you. He was tempted to do just that, but only because the idea of you going without water for the sake of some flowers was astronomically stupid and again, not something that he was going to allow to happen.

But as he stared at you and saw that nervous expression on your face, the one that threatened to turn into full-on sadness if he should take the plant away from you, he found his nerve faltering. He never liked it when you cried.

Phinks sighed as he crossed his arms.

“Why does this matter?” he asked, “they're just flowers. You can see them anywhere.”

You shook your head, saying “not like these ones. I've never seen these in Meteor City before. And they're prettier than the ones that grow here.”

“That's supposed to be a good reason for keeping them?”

“I think so.”

“That's stupid.”

You frowned upon hearing Phinks' statement, but when you looked back at the pink flowers that sat on your lap, he saw a swell of emotion in your eyes as you gazed at them. Of happiness and hope.

“Maybe there's a way I can grow more of them, that way Meteor City can be filled with them. That way everyone can see how pretty they are,” you said.

“I wouldn't get your hopes up. For all you know that thing could be dead by the end of the week,” Phinks told you.

You pouted that time, more annoyed with his lack of confidence in you.

“I can grow more,” you said.

“How?” Phinks asked.

“I just can,” you answered defensively.

At that, he sighed once again.

“You know,” Phinks began, “stuff isn't going to happen just because you really want it to. The world doesn't work like that.”

“But you never know. Maybe it can. Maybe I can figure it out,” you said.

That time, your tone was less defensive and more hopeful.

Despite his reservations, Phinks didn't have the heart to make you throw out the flowers. Neither did Feitan when he returned and saw the mass of pink petals that stood out from the cracked, plastic pot. You again spoke of your wish to grow more of the flower so everyone in Meteor City could see it, again with no explanation with how you were going to achieve that. Both Phinks and Feitan shared a look when you said that, and both were aware that it wasn't good that you honestly believed you could do that, but neither had it in them to say anything further on the subject.

You held onto that potted flower for the rest of the evening, staring at it with no small sense of amazement and wonder. When you went to bed that night, you placed the pot on top of a small step stool and you gazed at it from where you laid in your bed until you eventually fell asleep. Neither Phinks nor Feitan understood what exactly it was about those flowers that had enraptured you like that, but with life in Meteor City being as hard as it was, they mutually decided to let you hold onto that little piece of happiness for as long as it was able to last.

It turned out to only be two weeks, for despite all of your efforts in keeping it watered and placing it in the sun, the flowers slowly wilted and lost their soft pink color. The day that the plant died, Phinks found you staring at it again, and this time your mood was much more somber and that sparkle of happiness within you had vanished completely.

It was expected – no one can have nice things in Meteor City.

But even though this was the exact thing that he had told you would happen, Phinks felt bad for you.

Walking over to where you sat, he caught your attention when he placed his hand on top of your head as he ruffled your hair encouragingly.

“I'll find you more,” he promised.

You stared up at him for a moment.

And then your face broke out into a small but grateful smile, the sight of which sent a surge of warmth lighting up inside of him.

It felt like it was the first time in what felt like a long while that Phinks saw you look at anything with that sort of excitement.

Made sense. Growing up was a surefire way of killing anyone's childlike sense of wonder. But it seemed like you'd caught it again as you held the bag he had brought you.

“Is this real?” you asked.

“Yeah.”

“And you're giving this to me so I can change it?”

“Why else would I give you that thing?”

You glanced up at him before returning your gaze down to the bag, once again looking at the rectangular shaped box that held one of the worst things ever created: the Miniature Rose bomb.

A device that was used to wipe out hundreds of thousands in the initial blast, and was designed to devastate even more lives once the initial blast had gone off, as the smoke that came from the ignited bomb produced a deadly poison that spread to every living thing in its vicinity. With one of those bombs now in your possession, your mouth pressed into a small, determined line as you suddenly stood up, the bag that held the bomb inside swinging once more.

“Do you have a pen?” you asked.

Phinks reached into his pocket and pulled out a plain black pen, which he handed to you with no preamble. You were quick to grab it before you began to walk, heading towards the middle of the field. The enhancer walked with you, matching his pace with yours.

“I've never seen someone be this excited over a weapon of mass destruction,” he commented.

“It's not every day that I find one of these,” you answered, “despite how many still exist, they're stupidly hard to come across.”

“Isn't that a good thing? Less people are being blown up that way.”

“Yeah. But it'd be nice for me if I could find them easier.”

Phinks hummed.

“How many times have you changed a Miniature Rose?” he then asked.

“Today will make eight,” you answered, “I tried to keep an eye out for them when I was doing my job as a Hunter, but like I said, they aren't easy to get ahold of. And when you can find them, they're incredibly expensive, even for a Hunter.”

You turned your head to look at him as you asked “how did you find this?”

“This arms dealer who was talking to me had it.”

Your eyebrow raised again upon hearing that.

“Why would you of all people need to do business with arms dealers?” you asked, “what do you need weapons for when you can use your fists?”

Phinks shrugged.

“I dunno. I just wanted to see what he had. And I'd say it was a good thing I bothered since I found that for you,” he answered.

“That's true, I guess,” you conceded. Then you pursed your lips, seeming to have a hard time getting your next words out. Eventually, you were successful as you let out a soft “thank you.”

“No problem,” he answered.

The smallest of smiles graced your lips after he said that, and seeing that had him feeling good about everything.

This was better, he thought to himself. You weren't upset and you weren't emotionally dead. Instead, you walked forward with a spring in your step and clear purpose in mind as you went towards a particular spot in the field. Like maybe you had temporarily forgotten the situation you were in under Chrollo's care.

Though you wouldn't need to be in a situation like this is if you could just accept what the troupe wanted for you.

But voicing an opinion like that at this point in time would definitely make you upset, so he kept his mouth shut.

No need to ruin things so soon.

You stopped when you reached what was about the field's center. Phinks stopped with you, his hands in his pockets as he watched you place the bag down onto the ground.

“Why did we come over here?” he asked as you summoned your watering can.

“Changing a bomb like this causes there to be a lot more flowers to form than you might expect,” you explained as the seed packet fell into your hand, “if we're too close to the house, part of it could get overtaken.”

“What, the house will get turned into flowers?”

“No, but there'd probably be a good portion of the house that would get covered in them.”

“Can't you just cut them away?”

You gave him a stern look as you said “what's the point of changing the bomb if the flowers are going to be killed immediately after?”

“I thought the point was getting rid of the bomb,” he answered.

You let out a small huff of annoyance, but turned your attention back to the packet as you listed both the Miniature Rose Bomb and the plastic bag on one side before flipping over to write on the back. When he leaned in closer, Phinks was surprised that he actually recognized the name of the flower you were scribbling down.

“Turning the Miniature Rose into actual roses?” he asked.

“It feels appropriate, don't you think? Instead of being something terrible that might look beautiful to some, it can turn into something actually beautiful.”

Phinks hummed as he continued to watch the process for your ability. After handing him back his pen, your movements were hurried as you ripped the seed packet open and dumped the contents into the yellow watering can, as though you were impatient with the conditions you had set for yourself. After throwing the packet into the can and watching as the water swirled within, your finger tapped against the heart shaped handle incessantly.

Having seen your ability in action before, he was aware that the part where the energy required to change the desired object built up within the can would likely take some time.

Though it'd be interesting to see if the Miniature Rose would take a longer time than what Chrollo had used your ability for. It had been a little less than thirty minutes, if he recalled correctly.

Clearly you anticipated this taking some time, as you soon settled down onto your knees in front of the watering can, your hands resting on your thighs as you periodically glanced at the bag that held the bomb. Phinks joined you on the ground, watching the soft purple glow that emitted from the can's interior.

After a few moments, he commented “this feels like it's going to take a while.”

“It's a bit different than turning beer cans into marijuana, Phinks.”

“I mean, I figured, but…..”

His voice trailed off as he leaned in closer to get a look of the interior of the watering can, and he found that the water was still lapping about at the very bottom.

“We're gonna be here a while, aren't we?” he asked.

“Yep,” you answered plainly.

You seemed pretty relaxed about the whole thing. Made sense given that you'd changed seven of those bombs. Regardless of how terrible they were, by this point you knew what you were doing. Plus, if there was even a hint that something could go wrong, Chrollo wouldn't have allowed you to touch the thing.

Thinking back to the boss, Phinks wondered – what had Chrollo's reaction been when you told him of how you used your ability for the Miniature Rose? Phinks remembered he was mostly impressed that you had the nerve to mess with them like that while he overheard Feitan mumbling about how you were an idiot.

How did you figure you would be okay transforming the bomb, anyway?

“When you first changed a Miniature Rose, how did you know it'd be safe?” he asked.

You glanced over at him in question as you asked back “how did I know what would be safe?”

“How did you know the bomb wouldn't go off in the middle of it?”

“Oh, that.”

You stretched out your arms as you continued to wait for the can to fill as you answered “I didn't. I just crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.”

The nonchalant way in which you had said that pissed him off a little.

“That's fucking stupid. And reckless,” he said.

“Like you're one to talk.”

“I'm not the one who chose to dabble in experimental bomb disposal,” Phinks countered.

“Figuring out if I could change the bombs was worth the risk. And since it worked, it's not a big deal,” you said.

“Not a big deal? You could've blown up with the bomb.”

“It was worth it. The less of these things that exist in the world, the better.”

Phinks huffed.

“There's still thousands outside of the ones you've changed, though,” he pointed out.

“I know. But the more of them that I can change, the more lives that can be spared the awful fates that these horrible things bring on their victims,” you said passionately.

There was a fire burning in your eyes when you turned to face him as you continued with “even though that agreement exists to not use the bombs anymore, there way too many people in power that keep them 'just in case'. And because of the refusal to get rid of the bombs entirely, it's a fear at the back of the minds of millions of people every day: that the bomb could go off near them and destroy everything.”

“It might only one, but getting rid of this still makes a big difference. It's one step closer to making the world better for everyone,” you declared.

You then turned your attention back to the watering can, that fire still in your gaze as you stared at it while impatience was thrumming through you again as you once more waited for this part of your hatsu to finish.

Throughout your speech and then after it, Phinks remained silent.

There it was. Your childish idealism – that notion of yours that you could make the world a better place. While Phinks could admit that getting rid of nuclear bombs in the way you did was effective, you failed to understand that getting rid of the weapons that were used to blow away the masses wouldn't change much of anything. People would always hate, fight and kill each other, regardless of if they could get rid of thousands of lives all at once or if they needed to take their time doing it one by one.

Nothing was going to change no matter how many bombs you turned into roses.

But you had changed a lot.

Another thing that was normal. He and the founding members of the troupe had changed significantly since they were all kids in Meteor City. That was part of growing up. Yet you still held onto those things you had clung to as a child, such as your aforementioned idealism and your focus on the things that made you happy, that you firmly believed could lead to the happiness of others. Namely, your love of flowers and your belief that just the sight of them could lead to some sort of positive change.

In that regard, you were still the same as when you were younger.

But still, you had changed.

“No way,” Machi said.

“How come? People love a good princess,” Uvogin countered.

“Then you play her,” she told him, “I don't wanna do this unless I get to be a baddie!”

A discussion among the entire group started after that on who could play the Princess in their performances of the Power Cleaner episodes. Suggestions on who else in the group could play the princess were being shot down just as fast as they were being put forward, and for a moment, it seemed as though everyone was stumped on what to do.

Through it all you were staying quiet, sitting next to Sarasa while you watched Phinks and Feitan practicing for the next show. But Phinks had caught sight of that hopeful look in your eye as you heard the discussion continue, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt in nervous anticipation.

He knew what you wanted – he had seen the way your eyes lit up the instant the word “Princess” had been spoken.

Just ask them, Phinks thought to himself. Just ask if you can play the part, and they'll give it to you.

But no. A full minute passed, the discussion was still ongoing, and you weren't saying anything. Unlike when you were with him and Feitan, you were a bit more closed off with the rest of the group, and now your shy nature was getting the better of you and keeping you from making that request.

They won't know you want it if you don't ask. Were you really going to say nothing and let them give the role to someone else? Already, Phinks could imagine the dejected look you would make when they chose another kid to play the role, and you would have no one but yourself to blame for that.

While it pissed him off a little, Phinks decided to give you the push you needed, to ask you outright if you wanted to do it. Maybe then you'd speak up.

Only someone else beat him to it.

Calling out your name, Chrollo asked “why don't you play the part?”

You blinked in surprise, staring at Chrollo with an awestruck expression as you asked “you mean…. Me, as the Princess?”

Chrollo smiled.

“Yeah. I think you'd be perfect for the role,” he told you. Some of the others in the group seemed surprised, apparently assuming you would be too shy to want to perform in front of the other kids, while the rest echoed his sentiments as they encouraged you to accept. That was enough to get you on board. You smiled shyly, averting your gaze out of bashfulness as you quietly agreed to do it.

Everyone was in good spirits after that; Pakunoda assured you that you wouldn't regret it, Sarasa offered to give you tips on what to do if you felt scared on stage, Feitan smiled to himself on seeing how happy you were to get the role, and Uvogin was now teasing Machi on losing out on the chance to play the Princess while Machi reiterated that she didn't want to participate unless she was a bad guy.

Gathering up a couple of scripts, Chrollo went to where you were sitting and settled down next to you as he handed you one of them.

“The Red Power Cleaner and the Princess share a lot of scenes in this episode, so we should practice together,” he told you.

“Okay,” you answered softly while your body brimmed with barely contained excitement.

Though the others had their attention elsewhere, Phinks was still watching the two of you. And while he watched as you rehearsed your lines with Chrollo and the smiles and laughter shared between the two of you, Phinks suddenly felt a strange feeling of tightness in his chest.

It was only much, much later, when he happened to reminisce on that day, that he realized what he had been feeling was jealousy.

All of a sudden, it felt like there were eyes on the two of you.

A glance back at the house revealed it to be Chrollo, as Phinks could see the dark haired man looking out through one of the windows, keeping an eye on you while your hatsu went to work. It felt a little like having a chaperone. Slightly annoying, Phinks felt, but it was expected. Even though you fought hard against him and even though Chrollo had been harsh with you in the past, he only did it all because he was worried about you. They all were.

You seemed to notice his presence as well, as when Phinks looked back to you, that light of determination had gone out and the air around you was more somber, the corners of your mouth turning downwards in a frown.

As much as Phinks wanted to be annoyed by your change in mood, it was bound to happen eventually. The enhancer just wished that the relatively good moment between the two of you hadn't ended so quickly.

He still didn't like to see you upset.

Phinks stayed where he was, staring up at the sky while he the wait for the watering can to fill seemed to go on indefinitely.

Maybe he should've brought something to help pass the time.

“Do you still see Feitan a lot?” you asked.

Your question was unexpected – not just because a quiet had settled over the two of you, but also because you didn't tend to ask about the others these days. Looking over to you, he found that you still had your gaze on the watering can, and you didn't seem any happier than you had moments ago.

Still, he chose to answer your question as he said “yeah, we're in pretty frequent contact.”

“Just in contact? You don't live with him anymore?”

“Nah. I think we both like having our own spaces. More breathing room that way.”

As soon as he said that, he noted the way your frown deepened while your gaze narrowed to a glare.

Fuck. He'd said that to you when you were basically under house arrest with Chrollo. Hadn't you said something earlier about the boss breathing down your neck constantly? Of course that'd piss you off. He needed something else to talk about, something that would get you in a good mood again.

He thought he had it when he said “I saw Fei the other week, actually. Though we were both pretty miserable; Chrollo made both of us dress in tuxedos. I don't think either of us will get used to those things. Don't know why boss keeps using us for that kind of shit.”

“…. That was last week?” you asked.

“Yeah.”

“With Chrollo?”

“Yeah.”

“And that was during the time he had my hatsu?”

“….. Yeah.”

Fuck

Chrollo's words rang in his skull, reminding him not to mention anything with that last job, and there he was, managing to mention the one thing he'd been told not to. How the fuck had he managed that?

Why was he like this when he was around you?

Now the air around the two of you was uncomfortable, and he didn't know where to go from here.

You apparently did, however, as you were the one who chose to take the reigns of the conversation. Turning your head back to look at him, you asked “Phinks, what happened last week?”

Phinks remained silent as he stared at you.

“Why did he need Revival Gardener? Why didn't he use me?” you asked.

“……”

You remained undeterred as you said “Phinks, you need to tell me.”

The enhancer held your gaze for a moment longer –

And then looked away.

“….. Really, Phinks?”

You almost sounded disappointed in him.

But there wasn't anything he could do. He wasn't going to betray Chrollo's order. Not for you.

Not when it would hurt you.

The boss wouldn't have said much about it, but you weren't stupid; you caught on that it was strange, that he hadn't forced you to go on that particular job and had instead borrowed your ability to use for himself. After all, the entire reason Chrollo brought you along on jobs was to help you get used to the death that the troupe dealt with on a regular basis.

Why then, you must have wondered, would he use your ability and leave you behind?

The only answer that you would have come to would be to assume he had done something that, in your mind, would have been horrific.

And now you knew that Phinks had been present for that.

It felt impossible to say anything now. If he tried to change the subject, you would notice and call him out on it. If he mentioned any small detail on the other week, even if he did it as nonchalantly as possible, you would press him for more. And when he flatly refused to tell you, you would become upset, and it would devolve into a mess.

Phinks couldn't think of anything else to say.

So he chose to stay silent.

You did the same as you returned your attention to the watering can, the water that had continued to swirl within not even coming close to the halfway point. With the two of you now at an impasse and still a long way to go before you could do what you wanted with the bomb, Phinks dreaded just how long the awkward silence would last.

Chrollo's presence vanished not long after, giving the two of you privacy. That seemed to relax you slightly.

When the can was a quarter of the way full, Phinks felt an urge to speak, but as he still didn't know what to say to you, he ultimately chose to remain silent.

He couldn't tell if you had noticed that or not.

When the can was halfway full, you spoke again.

“You don't need to stay here with me,” you told him.“I want to stay,” he answered.

You didn't respond to that.

When the water was beginning to make the last legs towards the top of the can, Phinks glanced up towards the sky, taking note of how the sun had clearly dipped slightly since he had first arrived. It had been noon when he got here originally, hadn't it?

Chrollo could've given him a heads up on how long this was going to take, he thought to himself.

When the water finally, finally reached the top of the can and stilled, it felt like a small eternity had passed. His legs almost didn't want to cooperate with him when he followed your lead and stood up from where he had been sitting, having remained in that position for a bit too long. If you were bothered in the same way, you weren't showing it as you immediately went to pick up the watering can, gripping those heart-shaped handles as you hoisted it off of the ground and moved so you were standing above the bomb.

Without a word, you tilted the can and began to pour the conjured water over it, and the bomb as well as the plastic bag were quickly soaked as the contents of the can rained down on them.

Phinks then sensed Chrollo's presence once again, the boss no doubt noting that there was a development out in the field. As much as he had criticized you for your ability and how he found it to be largely useless, Chrollo was no less fascinated by the process of change that came whenever you used it.

At least this second time around, you didn't react to Chrollo's presence in any way that Phinks could see.

The enhancer found himself wondering how much longer this would take as he watched the purple-tinted water cover every part of the bomb, and part of him dreaded it taking as long as the conjuration process had. Luckily for him, emptying the can was much less time consuming, as not too long after, the water ran out and the last few drops dripping from the sprinkler head before the can disappeared completely, its purpose served.

Your hands dropped to your sides as you took a step back, keeping your eyes on the bomb.

Finally, you were at the last step.

Wanting to gauge your current state, Phinks dared to speak as he asked “there isn't any chance of the roses changing back, right?”

“Changing back into the bomb?” you asked.

The fact that you were quick to answer was a good sign, he felt.

“Yeah.”

“There's no chance,” you murmured, your gaze still on the bomb as you added “once something has been changed with Revival Gardener, it can't change back. That's one of the conditions.”

“Huh. No wonder it can do so much, then.”

You hummed noncommittally at his reply.

Then after a few minutes had passed, you began walking backwards while you kept your eyes on the bomb. That time, you spoke up on your own.

“You won't want to be too close for too long; once it gets to a certain point, the area is going to fill up with rosebushes and you'll need to fight your way out of all the thorns and branches,” you told him.

“Is that something you learned the hard way?” Phinks asked, turning around as he began to walk with you.

“Mm.”

That answer seemed to indicate that he was correct. Though he doubted that you would have been injured much by something like that, whichever one of those frilly outfits that you liked to wear probably didn't survive a trek through thousands of scratching thorns.

Though considering that Chrollo was the one who supplied you with your wardrobe, it surprised him a little that you wouldn't have it destroyed on purpose if just for the sake of being spiteful.

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw you stumble slightly when you walked over a tiny hill of dirt that had acted as an obstruction in the otherwise empty field. Without a second thought, Phinks placed his hand on your shoulder as he continued walking, intending to guide you while you kept your attention on the bag.

You glanced at him briefly, and while your expression was indiscernible, you didn't protest against the physical contact. Your gaze returned to what was in front of you as you continued walking backwards, this time with his assistance, allowing him to guide you while you kept your focus on your ability.

When you came to a halt, he stopped with you and looked back to where the bag had been left.

It wasn't too far away. Only about twenty steps or so, he noted.

“Is this far enough?” he asked.

“No, we'll need to move again. I just can't get too far for now.”

Turning his gaze away from the bag, Phinks brought his attention back to you, hoping to find that you were at least in slightly better spirits. Outside of the work you were doing for the troupe, you always seemed a little bit happy when you were allowed to use your ability. Even though you were angry with all of them for what you had been forced into, using your hatsu for the changes you wanted to see never failed to make you forget what your life had become, even if it was only momentarily. Phinks hoped that would be the case right now. It should've been the case, as you were erasing something that you desperately didn't want to let exist in the world.

But when he looked to you and saw that you were frowning as you stared across the field, it was not only disappointing, but also confusing.

Why weren't you happy?

Just then, you stiffened and began to walk backwards again. Phinks once more moved with you, guiding you again while he glanced over his shoulder.

There was a burst of movement across the field.

Originating from the spot where the bomb had been placed, thin brown branches spread across from that area within the blink of an eye, bursting through the plastic bag before they crawled forward, slowly growing larger as they overtook the grass that sat beneath them. The once empty field was filling up with long brown limbs that dipped and swerved with random patterns as they spread out wide, continually breaking off and forming separate branches, some of which began growing upward and turned green in color. As the stems came closer to the two of you, Phinks caught sight of the multitude of thorns that decorated the newly formed greenery alongside what appeared to be unopened flower buds.

When he looked again to the site where the bag had once laid, he couldn't see any sign of it or the Miniature Rose within. All that could be seen in that area was the writhing thorns that continued to come out like a geyser.

A few seconds later, the area where the both of you had been standing was obscured by the stems and thorns, and still there was no sign of it stopping. The long stems continued to reach out, growing as if they intended to cover the entire field.

“I see what you were saying about it covering the house,” he said.

“Mm.”

It didn't seem like you were really paying attention to him as you kept your eyes on the growing flowers, watching as the rosebuds began to bloom and set a striking red color against the sea of green that occupied the field. Just as the stems seemed to be coming to an end, the red began to overtake everything as more red petals opened up one by one, revealing the result that you wanted: the most deadly weapon in the world, now a mass of harmless flowers – or mostly harmless, as long as you ignored the thorns. He continued to watch with you as the flowers continued to grow, hiding the thorns and dark branches as they continued to bloom, the roses moving about like waves as the sheer amount of energy that had been placed into the Miniature Rose was converted by your hatsu. Phinks was once again impressed as he watched the red fill up the field, spreading far within the blink of an eye.

You were right when you said that it was different from turning beer cans into weed.

Finally, the movement of the plants began to still, slowing down as the branches ceased their bending and writhing, now finding stationary positions within the mass. The roses came to a halt as well, their petals open and soaking up the sunlight that came from above, and after that, the only movement they offered was a result from the breeze that blew by them, rustling the petals softly.

It felt like it was over.

“You weren't kidding about how many of them there were going to be,” Phinks commented as he looked about the once plain field that was now covered in roses as far as he could see.

When you didn't respond, he chose to take it as you still concentrating on your hatsu. Even though it looked like it was finished, maybe you weren't done quite yet.

“They look nice,” he then said after another few moments.

When you didn't respond that time, he felt a sense of unease rise inside of him.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“….. This doesn't feel right,” you answered.

Phinks blinked in surprise as he asked “what do you mean?”

“My hatsu. It feels wrong,” you said. Staring at the field in dismay, you added “ever since I got it back from Chrollo, it doesn't feel the same. Like it's been altered somehow.”

He grimaced, dismayed that the topic was again going back to Chrollo's use of your hatsu.

“I don't think boss changed anything about your ability,” Phinks told you, “maybe it just feels weird because it was taken away temporarily.”

You shook your head.

“It's not that. There's something different about Revival Gardener. Something he did when he used it,” you insisted.

Then you turned to him with a pleading look in your eyes.

“Phinks, you need to tell me what happened when he took it. I need to know what he did with my hatsu,” you said.

The enhancer stared at you for a moment before he shook his head.

“If boss says you don't need to know, then you don't need to know,” he said.

“I do need to know. It's my ability, and he used it for something awful, I just know it,” you insisted.

“Why do you want to know the details of something that you'll think is awful? Aren't you happy that he gave you a break from that?”

“Because it's my ability and I deserve to know.”

“If boss says no, then you don't.”

Phinks turned to leave, sensing that the conversation was going to go around in circles and ultimately end with you being upset. While it frustrated him, he knew by now that no matter how hard he tried, he wasn't going to be able to do much of anything to reassure you or calm you down. The best option he had was to remove himself from the situation.

He didn't even get to take a single step before he was stopped.

You grabbed at him, both of your hands wrapping around his wrist and wrenching it back as you kept him in place with a strength he hadn't been expecting. Unable to free his wrist, he looked back to see a desperate expression on your face. Your lip was wobbling and tears threatened to fall down your cheeks. You looked a lot like you did whenever Chrollo was about to make you change a body.

“Phinks, please,” you begged, “I need to know.”

“Please,” you said again as your grip on him tightened ever so slightly.

Phinks stared at you before looking down where you were touching, and as had been the theme for today, another old memory came rising to the surface.

“Let go of me, brat.”

The words came growling out of him as Phinks stared down at you, his grip tightening on the bat he had borrowed from Feitan in his hand. You were standing in front of him, shuddering, frail, looking like you were ready to cry, and the whole time you stood with both of your hands wrapped around his wrist. No matter what he did, he couldn't shake you off.

“I mean it – let go of me,” he snarled, “I have better things to do than look after some snot-nosed crybaby.”

Phinks pulled on his wrist again, only to be frustrated when he was once again unable to free himself of you.

“I'm not playing around!” he snapped.

He lifted up the bat after, holding it over his head as a threat. You bit your lip as you inhaled in fear, but you still wouldn't let go.

“Last warning,” he said, “let go before I beat the shit out of you.”

Your lip wobbled as tears finally came streaming down your cheeks.

But you still wouldn't let go.

Phinks tsked.

“Fine. You asked for it.”

And then he gritted his teeth as he prepared to bring the bat down on your head. As you sensed the impending violence, you clenched your eyes shut as you braced yourself.

But even then, you refused to let go.

Not far from where the two of you stood, the backdoor of the house slid open, then slid back shut.

Chrollo was out here now.

You froze when you realized that.

When you heard his steps descending the wooden stairs, you averted your gaze down at your feet as you released Phinks' wrist, pulling your hands back to your chest while you hunched up your shoulders with an obvious tension.

You looked like you were waiting for your executioner to reach you.

That wasn't the way you usually acted. Every other time the boss felt a need to interject himself in the middle of your visits, you reacted with defiance, not even bothering to hide the contempt you felt whenever you looked at Chrollo.

Now you couldn't even bring yourself to look at him, seemingly too scared to do that.

The sudden change in your attitude bothered Phinks, and he couldn't help but wonder what had happened to make you react like that.

The enhancer turned his head as Chrollo came closer, the two men's eyes meeting as the raven haired man walked at an even pace.

“It just finished, I take it?” Chrollo called out in question.

“Yeah, I think so,” Phinks answered as he looked back to you. You weren't answering, and you had shifted your body slightly to the side in order to turn away from Chrollo.

All of that spirit from earlier was gone now, replaced by that of pure dread.

Phinks hated seeing you like that.

Chrollo came to a stop when he reached the two of you, humming as he surveyed the newly grown mass of rosebushes that bathed the field in red.

“They look lovely,” he said to you.

“Mm.”

Chrollo smiled at your minimal response, pulling up one of his hands in order to place it on your shoulder and give you a reassuring squeeze. Both men caught the sharp intake of breath you made as a result of that action.

“After all of that, you must be tired,” Chrollo told you, “I think it'd be best for you to come back inside, don't you?”

“Mm.”

The noise you made wasn't really an agreement, but it wasn't necessarily a disagreement, either. You didn't fight with him, either, when Chrollo began to guide you back towards the home.

That didn't stop you from giving Phinks a desperate pleading look as Chrollo wrapped his arm around your shoulder, something that, by now, the enhancer had seen more times than he could count.

Don't look at me like that, Phinks thought to himself.

When you saw that he was doing nothing, the look that served as a cry for help turned into a harsh glare.

Don't look at me like that either, the enhancer again pleaded internally.

You know it's for your own good, so please don't look at me like that.

Despite his wishes, you wouldn't stop, so Phinks was forced to avert his gaze as he once more stared out at your field of roses.

Even though he couldn't see you now, he could feel your disappointment in him when he did that. When, for the second time that day, he turned away in order to make it easier to ignore you. Yet again, it felt childish and stupid for him to do, but he didn't know what else he could do. Not when you made things to needlessly difficult. As he looked over the roses, the sign of the 'good' you had been allowed to do for the day, he sighed to himself.

You were being kept safe with Chrollo, you got frequent visits both from him and other members of the troupe, and you were still allowed use of your ability.

Why couldn't that be enough for you?

After a moment, Phinks followed behind the two of you while Chrollo continued to lead you back into the home. He took note of the way Chrollo handled you, his touch soft as he guided you gently, and much like how he had felt all of those years ago when he saw you and Chrollo practicing your lines together, Phinks couldn't help the pang of jealousy that hit him once again.

He wished he didn't need to leave you behind with Chrollo – he wished he could be the one to look after you, to help fix you so your values were in line with that of the troupe.

But Phinks knew that he wasn't suitable for that sort of thing. It was better to leave it to Chrollo, who knew what he was doing.

So despite the jealousy within him that made itself known, Phinks shoved it down and told himself to get over it. His personal feelings didn't matter right now. All that mattered was fixing you, and Chrollo was the only one who could do that.

No matter what, Phinks needed to believe in the boss.

No matter what he did, it was for the greater good for both you and the troupe.

Even if he found himself doubting that belief from time to time.

What had happened the other week wasn't a job. Not really.

It was an experiment.

The event Phinks found himself at seemed to be nothing more than an overly fancy dinner party at a rented out venue. What exactly the occasion was, Phinks hadn't caught, but it didn't feel as though that fact was important to know; those kinds of parties were always the same. The ones where guests were dressed from head to toe in ridiculously priced suits and dresses that the average person couldn't hope to ever afford while the meagerly paid waitstaff balanced large trays of drinks and food while they catered to the guests on hand and foot.

It looked to be the sort of thing Phinks loathed – trying to fit in with pretentious people always left him feeling pissed off, and despite expressing how much he hated pretending to be a guest at one of these things, he nearly always managed to get put in that kind of a role.

Chrollo had noticed Phinks' look of apprehension and was quick to reassure him that his role in the event would be a brief one and he wouldn't need to deal with the guests long. When Phinks asked what exactly Chrollo wanted him to do, his boss only said one thing:

“Lock the doors.”

So that was what he did.

Despite his misgivings on being made to wear a suit while he was knee deep in snooty assholes, Phinks entered the event and quietly kept to himself as he waited for the signal to leave the room. Feitan had also been present, and had the same role as Phinks, waiting for when the time came to exit the room where everyone had gathered and lock the doors behind him. The only one who wasn't in that room was Shalnark, as his role required him to remain away from the throng of guests.

And then there was Chrollo, sitting in the corner of the room that allowed him on unobstructed view of everyone within the room while he sipped at a glass of wine.

When the signal to move came, both of them had been ready. After what felt like hours of endless drivel coming out of the people who surrounded him that had Phinks feel as though he was slowly loosing his mind, he was quick to notice when the staff that wasn't meant to be in the main room – those of whom were supposed to be in the kitchen – suddenly entered, led by the manager of the establishment who had a pink bat needle stuck in his arm beneath his sleeve. The appearance of the kitchen staff was just as confusing to them as it was to the guests and waitstaff, but Phinks and Feitan both moved upon seeing that, getting up from their seats and heading towards the only other exits in the room. They were almost in sync with one another as they closed and locked the double doors, ensuring that everyone within the room was firmly sealed in with Chrollo as both men secured the handles with heavy chains.

Phinks heard the confusion of those within the room as some noticed the locked doors, and then he heard that confusion turn into surprise and slight panic as the sprinklers within the room went off, dousing everyone in water.

He and Feitan arrived at the security room together, finding Shalnark sitting in front of the screens that showed the scene within the ballroom they had just left. Some people were bordering on frantic, fearful that there was a fire and that they had been locked into the room, as none of the exits would open no matter how hard they banged their fists or kicked at the solid surface of the doors.

Other were annoyed as they seemed to believe that the water had been set off as some sort of prank, and the organizers of the event could be seen yelling at the manager on behalf of their ruined event while that manager, now free of Shalnark's control and thoroughly confused as to how he had ended up in the middle of the chaos, stuttered as he tried to calm down the situation.

All the while the purple-tinted water continued to rain down on all of them, and Chrollo continued to sit calmly beneath it, becoming just as soaked as everyone else within the room as he waited for the water to cease and the next part to begin – and to see if it would work in the way he believed it would.

Eventually the water stopped, the tampered tank at the top having run out. When that happened and there was no sign of any sort of emergency, the atmosphere in the room changed again as many within became angry, now certain that the dinner had been ruined on purpose. Arguments began breaking out amidst the efforts of those who were still trying to get the doors open while others were lamenting the water damage done to their clothing and phones.

In the middle of all of that, one elderly woman suddenly cried out and fell to the floor.

That got the attention of nearly everyone in the room, and most rushed over to where she lay, clutching her stomach as she let out another painful wail. Those around her made efforts to help alleviate her distress while others returned to the doors, determined to get outside.

Then another person, one of the waiters, cried out as he fell to the floor in the same manner as the woman. He wasn't able to get the same attention as the woman before him, however, as almost immediately after another scream of utter pain echoed within the confines of the room.

Then there was chaos.

More and more people began to double over, screaming in pain as they felt that something was wrong within them, something that was spreading through their bodies while they were left to writhe in agony. Those who had been at the doors were still pounding against them, still trying to get them open, but their attempts were much weaker now as they also began to succumb to the effects of the water.

The woman who fell first was also the first to stop moving, one last painful gasp leaving her mouth before she ceased her movements.

But she didn't remain still, as beneath the barrier of her skin, something was moving. And those who were closest and were capable of noticing her while dealing with their own pain cried out in horror as they saw the first signs of the vines and leaves that began to exit through her open mouth.

Phinks and the others watched on in silence as they looked at the scene through the monitors, seeing firsthand the result of Chrollo's experiment:

Revival Gardener could, in fact, transform living material.

The sun was starting to set by the time Phinks left. The drive back from the home would be a long one, after all.

And he knew he'd be thinking about you the entire time.

You had remained quiet for the rest of his visit, refusing to respond to either him or Chrollo with anything more than a soft grunt. You wouldn't look at either of them from that point onward, instead choosing to keep your head down and your gaze on your lap.

The dead look in your eyes Phinks had witnessed when he had first arrived was back, and the second time around, there was nothing he could do to change that

.It was only when he left that you looked at him again.

As Chrollo walked him to the door, Phinks turned his head one last time and met your gaze from where you sat on the couch.

That pleading look was there again as you silently begged him to save you.

Once more, he didn't do anything like that, and this time Phinks didn't hang around long enough to see that look inevitably turned into anger.

At least you weren't angry with him all the time, he thought to himself after saying his goodbyes to Chrollo. He walked down the stairs towards his car with his hands in his pockets as he insisted to himself that it was something to be happy about. You still spoke to him whenever he came around, and sometimes you were able to laugh with him, just like you had when you were both kids.

And while it was depressing that the times where that happened were few, Phinks told himself that it was really your fault, all because of the way you had managed to be so different when compared to the rest of them and your stubborn refusal to listen to what Chrollo told you.

Based on the way you had acted today, it was still going to be a long way off until you were ready to be part of the Phantom Troupe. And Phinks couldn't help but let out a long sigh as he started up the engine and began to drive away.

As he pulled away from the house, it felt as though someone was watching him through one of the windows as he left, and Phinks chose to believe that it was you.

You wouldn't need to be away from him if you would just accept that you needed to change. Accept that your way of thinking was wrong, and then the two of you could be together like you were in the old days.

And then, maybe, things could go beyond that relationship you had once had, to something deeper than that.

But for now that was only a pipe dream. You weren't anywhere close to accepting their way of life, and so, you didn't need to know about that.

Just like you didn't need to know about Chrollo's experiment with your hatsu.

You didn't need to know that the night began with a room full of people and then ended with those people being turned into plants. You didn't need to know that writing down someone's name on the conjured seed packet was all your hatsu needed to change them, and you didn't need to know that the only survivor was a traumatized waitress who had only avoided painful death because she was filling in for someone else that night and therefore her name hadn't been included on the list Chrollo had snatched beforehand. You didn't need to know how much pain and destruction your hatsu had caused.

Because if you found all of that out too early before you were prepared for it, it would break you.

That wasn't what the troupe wanted – they just wanted you to be like them. To be their ally once again. Nothing would ever bring them back to the way things were before Sarasa's murder, but if you could be by their side – by his side – again, that would be good enough.

The thought of Sarasa's death coincided with a glance towards the side of the road, and Phinks caught sight of the dense line of trees that made up the edges of a forest.

An unpleasant memory came to surface. One of a bag that was hanging from a tall tree branch.

Phinks squeezed his eyes shut, willing the memory away before turning his attention to the road. He didn't need to think about that.

So his thoughts returned to you.

The way your hands had felt against his skin.

And that memory of your first meeting that played in his mind once more.

“Fine. You asked for it.”

And then he gritted his teeth as he prepared to bring the bat down on your head. As you sensed the impending violence, you clenched your eyes shut as you braced yourself.

But even then, you refused to let go.

Seconds passed.

Nothing happened.

Then the seconds turned into longer moments of nothing happening, with Phinks' bat still raised overhead and you still awaiting the impact of the wood upon your skull.

Why couldn't he do it?

Phinks' brows furrowed as he stared down at you, the resolve to punish you for grabbing him like you were wavering. Why? If anyone else had been doing this to him, he'd have already beaten them up. Why was he having such a hard time with the thought of hurting you?

It probably wouldn't take that much to make you back down – one well-placed hit to your skull would knock you out cold, and you'd go tumbling down to the ground. Hell, with how frail and starved you looked, he could easily see you dying from the blow.

The thought didn't bother him, Phinks told himself. The weaker ones in Meteor City die all the time; you just weren't meant to survive long in this world.

That was your problem, not his.

But instead of bringing the bat down and putting you out of your misery, he stood there while his arm began to grow tired from the awkward position.

The entire time, your grip didn't relent even once.

You weren't going to let go unless he made you.

The light of the setting sun spurred him to make a decision – it would be dark soon, and it was never a good idea to be out at night in Meteor City.

“….. Fine.”

You opened your eyes when you heard him say that, looking up at him curiously as he continued “but I'll bet that you'll regret it, especially when you get a taste of Feitan's terrible cooking.”

Phinks refused to offer any explanation after that as he turned and began to walk back home. You followed behind with some difficulty, your shorter legs unable to keep up with him without jogging after. Still, you managed, and your grip on him remained strong.

After a few minutes of walking, you spoke to him for the first time.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“Shut up.”

The memory of that first meeting was bittersweet – Phinks hated himself for the way he had treated you, that there had ever been a moment where he seriously considered hurting you. It was something that made him want to yell at his younger self for threatening you like that when you were desperate, alone and scared.

But he thought of the way you had looked at him, silently pleading for help as you held onto him tightly, and how the feeling of being needed somehow felt right. Even though he had agreed with Feitan not to take in anyone who was weak, and yet Phinks had caved for you. Someone who was so fragile and had needed protecting.

Don't you still need protecting?

The thought of the way you had looked at him gave him pause. You looked even more miserable than you had that very first time he met you. Every time he saw you, you only looked more and more depressed, as your will was slowly but surely being chipped away by Chrollo.

How could that be a good thing?

……. Because Chrollo says it is.

The turbulent feelings within Phinks were pushed down yet again as he continued his drive back, the setting sun causing the sky to grow darker and making it harder to see the outline of the tree branches he sped by. Things would be made right by Chrollo's hand, and then they could go back to the way it had been, with you by the side of the troupe where you were supposed to be.

Phinks allowed his mind to drift again as he continued on his journey, but this time his thoughts went to the happier memories in Meteor City. Like the way you would greet him when he came back to that little home, or the late nights spent talking with Feitan, or the way the two of you practiced cooking together as you tried your best to make something that was edible. Things were rough in the early days, but even when things ended in disaster, you still found some reason to smile at him.

He would have that again. He was sure of it.

All Phinks needed to do was wait.

[dumpywrites]

Ugh! - Jeon Jungkook

Prompt: “Aren’t we done?”

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Pure fluff, tsundere Jungkook?, exes that are so not done with each other lol

Pairing: Jungkook x she/her reader

Word count: 2.8k

a/n: I wrote this while picturing pouty and bratty Jungkook, so instead of simp Jungkook we ended up with somewhat of a tsundere one lol

It had been officially the first day of waking up being single again after not in seven months. Previously you had been single for a while too, so it was not like this was something new for you, it was just… odd. The wound was still fresh after all. 

Looking at the reflection in the mirror, the first thing you saw was your puffy eyes. You had been crying, bawling your eyes out to sad songs, basically putting alcohol to your freshly cut wound. Life must continue. Even if you were in the verge of losing your mind, you still had to wake up. 

It was your first (and apparently last?) big fight your now ex, Jungkook. You for one, never liked how the guy would doomscroll through tiktok and instagram for hours and hours and ignored you. Not only that, he ended up losing sleep too. Yes, you had your own fair share of consuming social media, same as everyone else, but you never let it disturb your health. Still, he never changed for the better, since the beginning you found out about it. 

So when one day you found out the guy was sent to hospital due to exhaustion, your first reaction was to be upset and pissed, instead of a more logical reaction. The fight ended up spiraling, branching into digging old unresolved frustration you had, worrying about his well being. Jungkook being a stubborn guy he was, turned full defense mode. Then the word was spoken. 

Everything had now led you to this exact moment, where you had to open your door to your ex in the morning, while looking like a complete mess. 

“Do you really need to come this early in the morning?!” You asked, annoyed. 

Jungkook was in his usual black oversized hoodie. You could see his beanie peeking through from underneath, it was in the same pitch black color. He looked like he didn’t even take a shower before showing up. Eye bags could be seen decorating his round doe eyes. 

“My PS5 is here.” He argued. 

“I can just mail it to you or something.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Well, I wanna play the new game I just got!” He walked past you, totally ignoring your scoff. 

“You can’t just do that.” You sighed, following him from the back. 

“You’re dramatic.” He said as he unplugged the console from your TV. 

You watched as he took the controllers and the cables and collected them all in his arms. “You need a bag with that?”

“No.” 

“Alright.”

Once he was done, man stood up as he somehow managed to grab everything in his hands. He looked like he was struggling, but you knew the man too well that he would never let you know about it. Your eyes fell on a few of video game CDs left on your drawer. 

“You sure that’s everything?” 

“Yeah.” He looked at you with a frown. 

“If you say so.” You eyed the games again and shook your head. Somehow refusing to say a thing. “That’s all?”

“Uh-huh.” He said, not moving from where he stood. 

“Then?”

“Then what???” The audacity of this man to sound offended. 

“Why aren’t you leaving?!” 

“Just making sure I didn’t leave anything.” He said and finally made his way to your door. 

There was a very faint hit of his fragrance came to you as he walked right past. You hated how your heart could betray you so quickly because it got you so worked up over the smell. 

You walked him to the door with words unspoken. You swore you saw him almost bending down, like he was gonna kiss you goodbye. It was probably a muscle memory, but he managed to stop himself before doing anything. 

“Bye.” He quickly said. 

“Bye, Jungkook.” You closed the door behind you, avoiding to spend any more second in his eyes. 

The first few days after breakup were supposed to be the hardest. At least that was what you heard from your friends. So, in order to distract yourself and to avoid spending your free time crying, you invited some of your friends to join you for a short karaoke session after work. 

“Explain to me why are you inviting us and why are you paying again?” Somi asked. 

“Jungkook just dumped her.” Mingyu snickered. 

Somi gasped. “I’m so sorry to hear that, are you okay?”

“I dumped him.” You glared at your other friend, correcting him. “I need a distraction.”

“Karaoke, is your idea of distraction?” Mingyu looked at you in disbelief. “Your ex literally has a whole karaoke bar in his house—“

“Shut it.” You put your hand over the guy’s lips, cutting his sentence short. “I can just go with Somi if you don’t want to.”

“Fine, I’m sorry!” The taller guy whined and followed you and Somi to the karaoke room.

Doing karaoke was fun, but it did not do any help. Every song seemed to constantly remind you of him, and you spent the whole two hours holding and containing yourself so it would not show. 

You decided to record an Instagram story. Deep down there was this tiny bit of hope on Jungkook seeing your story, since you didn’t block him and all. Maybe if he saw, he could see how you could have fun without him just fine. 

“I think I lost my voice…” Mingyu said as all of you exited the room. 

“No one asked you to sing three Adele songs in a row.” Somi laughed. 

“This is the first time I’ve ever heard you sing like that!” You laughed along with the girl. “Thanks for coming though, that was—.”

You were stunned upon seeing who was right in front of the entrance. Your boyf— ex, was walking back and forth, looking antsy. The extremely baggy t-shirt he wore was flowing due to the wind blowing outside, along with his hair. 

“Why are you here?” He asked, posing a dumbfounded expression. 

“That’s my line.” You folded your arms. 

“Can’t I go out with my friends?!” He rolled his eyes. 

“Jungkook, you have a karaoke room in your house.” You rolled your eyes. “Plus I don’t see anyone with you.”

“They’re not here yet.” 

“Uh huh.” 

Somi and Mingyu both eyed each other, seemingly holding their dying laughter. 

“Are you not gonna go inside?” You asked him. 

“Are you not gonna go away already?!” He retorted back.

Maybe you were being sensitive, but there was a slight pang in your chest, hearing him telling you to go away. 

“Jungkook my dude, I honestly thought you were brighter than this.” Mingyu chuckled, dragging you by your shoulder. “Come on miss girl, we are going home now.” 

Somi politely smiled at the guy before running to catch up with you and Mingyu. You glared at him one last time before turning your glance away. 

It was two in the morning that you heard your phone rang on a random Wednesday. You were barely awake and your room was dark enough that made it hard for you to see the caller name. But the heart and bunny emojis were a dead giveaway. You still had not changed his contact name.

“How do you insert back a hoodie drawstring?”

You looked at the hanging clock on the wall again after hearing that ridiculous question. “Do you know what time this is???”

“You borrowed this hoodie last time so maybe you ruined it.” 

“Jungkook, you can’t be serious right now.” You sighed. “That was like what, a month ago?!”

“Yeah, but I haven’t worn it since.” He retorted. 

“Can’t you just look up youtube tutorials or something? I can’t believe you called me just for this…” You complained. 

There was a short pause from the other line before he spoke again. “I’ve tried it, it’s still won’t go in. You fixed my other hoodie before too.”

You sighed again. Knowing the guy, you were sure he was pouting and looking miserable. “Hook a safety pin on one end of the string, that way you can easily slide it through the hole.”

“Alright, I’ll go get a safety pin.”

“Cool, I’m hanging up now.” 

“You’re not gonna wait until I’m done with it?”

“Do I have to?!” 

“Right.” His voice went low. “I’m sorry, thanks for picking up the call though.” He said before ending the call. 

Later on you spent the next hour fighting with yourself on whether you should text him just to ask if he managed to fix his hoodie or not. You ended up falling asleep before you actually send any chat bubble. 

Time passed and the next thing you knew, you were batshit drunk, asking for another shot at the bar with your already ruined makeup. 

You didn’t know why you decided to go drinking alone. Work was getting to you and all the pent up stress was just too much for you to bear for the day. At times like this you would usually call Jungkook, and man would show up at your doorstep no questions asked. No matter the time, he would always be ready to cheer you up. Now with him gone and him being the main reason you were miserable as well, alcohol was calling your name. 

As the bartender fixed you another shot, you took out your phone from the back pocket. Your vision was a bit blurry but you could still make up what was on the screen. There was an unread notification from Jungkook, blabbering about the games he left at your place and that he wanted to pick them up. 

Without much thinking you replied with, “Can’t. Too busy drinking my feelings away.” 

Not even thirty seconds later, a call rang. 

“Hello?” 

“Where even are you???” Jungkook asked. He sounded serious, the tone of his voice was laced with worries. 

“I’m at Joe’s.” You giggled, clearly not thinking straight. You were still sober enough to know what you were doing, but not enough for you to make a logical decision.

There was a long sigh from the other line. “I’ll pick you up.”

“N-No! Kookie— I mean—“ The call was already dead when you protested. 

Your rescue came just around ten to twelve minutes later. Your rescue came in a form of a beautiful man dressed in washed out grey hoodie, ripped jeans, fluffiest hair, who just happened to be your ex. He came to the bar and leaned over to ask the cashier about your order, paying for them. He sighed and turned to your direction again.  

He took you by the wrist. “Let’s go.”

You, undoubtedly still affected by alcohol, started to feel all kinds of things. Looking away, all you said was “No.” 

But you let him drag you from the seat, just silently holding your hand and guiding you to his car. 

The drive was silent and Jungkook didn’t even bother to turn the music player on. You avoided looking at his direction as best as you can, instead you tried to focus on fidgeting your own fingers.

“You sure you can manage on your own?” 

You only nodded. 

“I know I’m not one to talk but please take care of yourself. Don’t go drinking alone like this ever again.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“No, don’t be.” He sighed, running fingers through his locks. “You sure you can go to your room alone?”

“Why did you come?”

Jungkook looked at you, as if you were speaking in foreign language. 

“Aren’t we done?”

Truthfully, you didn’t want him to leave. Seeing him this close all you wanted was to jump into his embrace and to never ever let go. But as drunk as you were, you were still confused, hurting even. He was so eager to say yes when you asked for a breakup. It just did not make any sense to you as to why he kept reappearing in your life, as if he never wanted to leave in the first place. 

“Kook, aren’t we done?” You repeated. 

“I don’t know.” He sighed. “Look, let me just help you inside.”

And so you let him grabbed you by your shoulder, helping you inside your apartment. He guided you to your couch and fetched a glass of water. You took a few sip of the water and leaned back against the sofa, closing your eyes due to the dizziness. 

“You good?”

You were not. How dare he, asking that question, knowing he was the main reason you were far from being okay in the first place. 

“No.” The alcohol in your system was making you honest. 

Jungkook looked hesitant, but he took a seat next to you. “Want me to stay?”

You couldn’t voice a respond, instead your thoughts wander at the video games that he left, still sitting prettily under the television, now seemingly forgotten yet again. You refused to say a thing. Somehow you hoped it would be his another excuse to keep contacting you. 

“I’ll help you change and then I’ll leave. Okay?”

You barely nodded. He grabbed you by your wrist and helped you to your room. Throughout your relationship you never really got drunk. That was why it when he helped you out of your clothes and gently changed it to a new one, even went for a cotton pad and a makeup remover (after looking for it for a solid five minutes) and helped cleaning your makeup, it made you fell in love with him all over again. 

He watched as you rested your head against your pillow, eyes barely opened. He looked around the room, finding something to do, anything. Anything just to keep him staying longer. 

“Thank you.” You said in an almost whisper. 

“Can I stay?” 

Your eyes widened just a bit but you couldn’t find yourself to refuse his offer. You nodded and hugged your plushie close. 

“I’ll help you change the bedsheets tomorrow.” He said as he joined you in bed next to you. 

He was hesitant at first, but ended up putting his arms over your waist. Both of you fell asleep with him resting his head on yours. The alcohol was definitely playing its part cause if you were sober, you knew you would just spend the rest of the night wide awake, heart bursting out from your chest. 

The morning came with a headache served next to it. The first thing you notice was a light snore, and the next quick seconds you noticed a tattooed arm draped around your body. Looking up all you saw was his long eyelash and his slightly ajar mouth that you wanted so badly to kiss. You did let Jungkook stay the night after all. 

Feeling your body shifting, the man spoke with his eyes still closed shut. “You awake?”

“Yeah.” You replied. “I need to go brush my teeth…” 

Instead Jungkook held you tighter. “Trust me, I’m insecure about my morning breath as well but give me a few more minutes.”

You didn’t say anything back, too afraid he could feel your heart beating rapidly, in which he most probably could. 

“Can I stay?” 

“What do you mean? You’re already here.” 

“No, I mean stay with you.” He finally opened his eyes, vision immediately towards you. “In our relationship…”

Your eyes widened.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m a stubborn person and I worry you a lot…” He sighed. “I’ll try my best to change, and for that I need you with me.” His arm moved to grab your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. 

A tear unknowingly escaped your eye and you giggled. The whole seven months of dating him, you had never seen this side of him. Not even at the day he confessed his feelings for you. You never knew how he could be so… sweet. Even sweeter than what you were used to. 

“Hey, don’t cry! I’m sorry…” He swiped your tears with his thumb quickly. 

You responded by hugging him, burying your face on his chest. 

“Uh, so does this mean…?” The boy asked skeptically. 

“I miss you.” You said with voice muffled by the material of his t-shirt. 

A small chuckle left him and his body relaxed, hugging you back. “I miss you too, you have no idea.”

You smiled, pulling away slightly to look at him. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna forget about your games again.”

He smirked. “I knew I left them when I first took my playstation.”

“Then why didn’t you take them?!” 

“I was dragging this out as long as I possibly can.” He sheepishly smiled, cheeks turning pink. “Why do you think I was even at that karaoke bar that day?!”

“I knew that was fishy!” You laughed. “Aww, you really did miss me, huh?”

“Yup.” He squeezed you in a big hug and peppered your face with smooches. 

“Jungkook!” You giggled. 

He suddenly moved to being on your top and caged you in between his arms. An evil smirk visible on his lips. “Ready to see how much I miss you?”

Safe to say he made you stay on the bed just a few hours more. 

Thank you for reading! 🎮

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

We fell in love in October 🍁

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ �� ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Just a warning, I will be annoying all of you with Fall fics until the end of November.

The order is here -> 🎂

It's a Saturday, and you're bored out of your mind. Luckily, you have a boyfriend with a car who will take you anywhere in the world, but especially in the back of his truck.

《Content》: NSFW. Car sex, finger sucking, PiV, creampie. Don't worry, there's plenty of fluff and silliness!!

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

An exasperated huff left you, your head hanging off the couch as you realized that watching the mundane program on the TV upside down did not, in fact, cure your torturing boredom.

It was one of those days; one of those days when nothing seemed interesting and no matter what you tried, you were left staring at the clock on the wall, watching as the seconds went by excruciatingly slow.

Although saying you had nothing to do wouldn't quite be the truth. There was plenty you had to do.

The laundry needed to be folded, the dishwasher unloaded and that one creaking door hinge that had been driving you crazy for who knows how long could do with a bit of oil.

You would just let all of those responsibilities be a problem for tomorrow-you.

Your neck started to ache and you became dizzy, so you decided to leave your odd position on the couch and see if you could find a craft to occup yourself with.

Pulling out the basket of supplies, you rummaged through it, pulling out unfinished projects, some abondend and others waiting to be started.

But none of them spoke to you. There really was no point in trying to force creativity or your art. It came when it pleased and it went just as quickly.

With an annoyed whine, you haphazardly stuffed all the yarn and felt and paper back into the basket, shoving it back in its place beneath the coffee table.

You had run out of ideas at this point. It was 9 pm on a Saturday, the air crisp and dark in the depths of fall. No cozy seasonal movies piqued your interest, despite the lovely decoration you had put out with so much care.

You sat on the floor of your living room with a pout, your back pressed against the couch as you stewed in your boredom.

You'd wilt and wither away soon, you could feel it. The monotone ticking of the clock was starting to make your blood boil. The sound felt like nails on a chalkboard, unpleasantly scratching at your brain.

If you didn't find something to do soon, you'd chuck your cinnamon scented candle at the damn thing.

But then, just a moment later, with the creak of wooden floorboards in the next room over, all your problems were solved.

You remembered your boyfriend that had been locked away in his office for hours now, drowning in paperwork.

You shuffled over to where his workspace was, gently rasping your knuckles against the door before peaking your head in.

Leon was hunched over his desk, a lamp illuminated the room and the sounds of a pen on paper could be heard.

You almost scoffed at the sight of his work glasses folded onto the table.

You have scolded him many times for not wearing them; it wasn't like he needed glasses to see, quite the opposite actually, his sight and aim were impeccable.

But they served to take the strain off his eyes when he was working at this hour with such a horrendously bright light.

You decided against arguing this time, although it wasn't an easy decision.

"Leon?" You asked softly, quietly closing the door behind you.

He swiftly held up a finger to you with furrowed brows.

"Just... give me second to finish this sentence..." he mumbled, and you waited silently.

There was little more infuriating than being in the middle of writing a phrase and being interrupted.

Your gaze shifted around the room, taking in the simplicity of it all.

There was no color at all, really, and no decor. Not a picture or a silly paperweight.

It served it's purpose, you supposed; Leon was very adamant about keeping work and home separate. Though, it wasn't always like that. Before you started dating him, the line between his work as an agent and his home life was almost invisible, practically nonexistent.

Oftentimes, his work was his home.

The familiarity of being out in the field gave him a sense of morbid comfort. But since you came into his life, it changed. You wanted him to have peace and quiet and safety that didn't come in the form of a rotten shack in the middle of nowhere.

It wasn't easy to get him away from all that he knew, but you couldn't be more proud of him for giving himself boundaries.

The dropping of a pen on the wooden desk brought you out of your thoughts and your gaze to Leon.

"Now," he sighed, turning to face you in his chair, "what can I do for you, my sweet angel?"

His voice was soft with just a tint of a mischievous smirk ringing through his words.

You rolled your eyes at his ridiculous display of affection, but the smile on your cheeks betrayed you.

"I'm bored." You stated blandly, your arms hanging by your sides.

"Bored?" He raised a brow at you.

"What about all those crafts you wanted to finish?"

"No.. not feeling it." you sighed.

Leon thought for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"Okay, well, you've been wanting to watch-"

"No..."

"You really did want to try out that-"

"No...."

He hummed in thought before opening his mouth to speak again.

"We have to get that laundry folded, we could-"

"No!" You cried out dramatically, sinking to the floor and splaying out on the small carpet.

"I will bore to death. I will rot and decay into a pile of dust from the lack of activity- My brain will shrivel up is what's gonna happen, actually."

Your complains were muffled as your cheek was pressed against the rough texture of the rug.

Leon stretched and sighed.

"You're not exactly making it easy, babe." He chuckled dryly, watching as you grumbled something into the carpet.

You sighed loudly and Leon pinched the bridge of his nose at your dramatics, but couldn't hold back his smile at just how fucking adorable you were.

He pushed himself out of his chair and laid down beside you on his back, hands folded over his stomach.

"We don't need to stay inside, you know. We can go anywhere we want. Just say the word, sweetheart." He said softly, glancing at you.

You pulled your face away from the floor and looked at him, your cheek squished up against the rug.

His expression softened at the subtle shimmer in your eyes.

"I guess you're right... but where would we even go?" You replied. Leon turned on his side, his head rested in his hand, supported by a propped up elbow.

"I'll take you wherever you want to go, angel. Lucky for you, you have a boyfriend with a polished truck and a shiny new license. Not to mention how incredibly handsome he is-"

You slapped his arm and giggled, a grin spreading on his face at your reaction.

"He's indeed quite handsome. Don't tell him but I'm only with him for his car." You leaned in to whisper the secret in his direction.

You couldn't help but laugh when you saw his face.

"I'm kidding, babe." You chuckled, scooching closer and pressing a peck to the tip of his nose, watching in delight as his face scrunched up.

"You better be." He grumbled, pulling you into his chest.

You gazed up at him with bright eyes and everything in him melted.

"Of course." There was a beat before you spoke again.

"It is a nice car, though-" you said with a grin.

Leon scoffed and shoved his hands under your shirt, tickling your bare sides.

"You're a little brat, you know that?" He smirked. You writhed under his hands, laughing and wheezing, trying to get away from him.

"S-Stop- you love me!" You heaved between laughs.

"That I do." He chuckled, stoping the ticklish torture and pulling you back against him with your back pressed to his chest.

"You've got me wrapped around your finger, pretty girl." He sighed into the crook of your neck, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

You were panting still, leaning back against him as you caught your breath.

"Can we go for a drive?" You asked quietly, stroking his knuckles while his arms were wrapped around your middle.

"Sure. Where do you wanna go?" He breathed, reveling in the comfort of having you in his embrace.

"I don't know, just... wherever you are." You said softly, one of those beautiful and gentle smiles on your face. His lip twitched upwards, and his cheeks became hot. You still had the ability to fluster him like on the first day.

"Okay.." he replied, swallowing down the butterflies that feared to rise up his throat from his stomach.

"Okay." You sighed, snuggling back into the warmth of his body.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

With several cozy blankets in tow, you made your way out of your warm and homely apartment to Leon's truck.

The dark paint shimmered slightly in the cool rays of moonlight. He opened the door for you with a gentle smile, and when he went to close it you pulled him in by the front of his sweater to press a sweet kiss to his lips as a thank you.

Leon hummed in delight, closing the door before getting into the driver's seat.

"You ready?" He asked, glancing over at you only to laugh when he saw you wrapped in a soft blanket, only your face peaking out.

"As I'll ever be." You replied enthusiastically, your cheeks rounding from your wide smile.

Leon chuckled and shook his head, kicking the car into gear and pulling onto the street.

The quiet rumble of the tires on the street filled the silence between both of you.

There didn't need to be much talking, the two of you content in the safe and warm atmosphere of the truck.

You put on some cozy fall tunes and sunk back into your seat, admiring Leon's profile.

He was as handsome as ever; those blond locks, the beautiful bump on his nose, the curve of his lips and his strong chin that flowed nicely into his soft jawline. The light of the passing street lamps illuminated his features perfectly.

"So," He broke the silence, "how are you getting along with those costume ideas?"

"I've got a few." You hummed, cupping his hand, the one situated on the gear stick.

"Alright, what have you got?" He asked, a hand lazily grasping the steering wheel.

"My first idea was Morticia and Gomez. A classic, in my opinion. And they have a surprisingly healthy relationship."

Leon smirked.

"That's basically an excuse for me to touch you all night. Worship you, even. Not a bad suggestion, Cara mia." He purred, emphasizing the nickname. You laughed and gently shoved his arm.

"At least we know you'd be an excellent Gomez." You snorted, rolling your eyes playfully when he wiggled his brows at you.

"Next I thought we could be the Maitlands from Beetlejuice. They're not the most recognizable but I think they fit us pretty well." You smiled.

"Besides, I'd kill to see you in a flannel and some glasses." You grinned, watching as Leon huffed and slightly turned his head to hide his reddening cheeks.

"Oh, shut up." He grumbled.

"What? You'd be perfect for a dorky model builder who loves his wife!" You argued.

He perked up, a quirk of interest in his brow.

"So you're saying I get to be pretend to be married to you for a night? Sign me up."

He smirked and you chuckled.

"You could be married to me for real, you know. It's in your hands, I'm just saying." You shrugged, slightly showing off your bare ringfinger.

"Don't you worry, sweetheart. You'll get that ring sooner than you think." Leon hummed, taking your hand and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

The statement caught you off guard and your face suddenly felt hot and your ribcage too small for your pounding heart.

You cleared your throat and kept your head low, trying to hide your flustered face.

"Moving on; the last one I have is Ghostface and a helpless victim. Those Scream parodies are gold." You laughed.

Leon winced at the suggestion and you tilted your head.

"Not your favorite idea?"

"Let's keep that one in the bedroom, yeah?" He winked at you with a devilish smirk, cackling when you smacked his arm and began scolding him.

"What's your favorite scary movie?" Leon whispered with a sultry tone, laughing when you squawked at him.

"Shut up!"

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

At this point, you had pulled over at the side of the road, the stars an image to magnificent to pass up.

You and Leon were huddled together on the hood of his truck, wrapped in blankets as you gazed at the sparkling specks of gold on the deep indigo tent that was the clear night sky.

"Aren't they pretty?" You whispered, your head resting on his shoulder, trying to make out the constellations.

"Yeah... but they don't hold a candle to you." Leon replied quietly, a soft smile on his face.

"Charmer." You chuckled.

"Maybe, but you're the prettiest and brightest star in my sky."

You sighed with a smile, a constant in your life since Leon became a part of it.

"Leon Kennedy, do you have any idea how badly I want to kiss you right now?"

He chuckled.

"What's stopping you, huh? I'm all yours, baby."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

That's how you ended up with him on top of you in the back of his car, his tongue teasing your mouth while his hand was on its steady way into your pants.

Your arms were wrapped around his neck, your fingers tangled in his hair while he forced your legs open with the width of him.

His other hand was gently cradling your face, stroking your cheekbone with a softness that made you melt. It was a mess of spit and a clashing of teeth, with occasional moans and sighs.

He swallowed up every pretty sound you made, vowing to keep them in the deepest parts of his heart that were reserved for you, and you only.

His fingers graced the waistline of your panties, only for them to trail further down, over your mound until he was caressing your clothed folds with firm strokes.

Your mouth fell open and your eyes rolled into the back of your head at the delicious sensation.

"Oh, fuck..." you breathed, a whimper escaping your throat when the rumble of Leon's chuckle vibrated against the skin of your neck.

"Does that feel good, baby?" He heaved with a smirk, groaning when you nodded eagerly.

"Such a pretty angel..." he whispered, going back to devouring your mouth while he stroked along the wet spot that had formed on your underwear.

Your pants were shimmied down all the way to your ankles, along with your panties.

"Open up for me." He purred, pressing two of his fingers down on your tongue, watching as you took them deep in your mouth and began suckling on them.

You moaned around his digits, feeling his callouses and the contours of them against the roof of your mouth.

"That's a good girl..." he praised, rivulets of drool running from the corners of your lips.

He pulled them free, earning a displeased whine from you before gently rubbing at your slit. You jolted at the euphoric feeling and were reduced to a blabbering mess.

"Oh, please, please, please, please..." You babbled, hooking your legs around his hips to pull him closer.

Leon chuckled breathlessly and fished his throbbing cock out of his boxers and sweatpants, sliding his tip through your folds.

The head of his dick caught on your clit in a way that made you cry out in bliss, a sound that was enough for him to cease his teasing.

"I'll give you what you want, sweetheart." He grunted, pushing his whole length inside of you. He moaned at the snug fit of your velveteen walls around him, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

When he bottomed out, you let out a shuddered groan at the feeling of being so full of him.

"Shit... you feel so good..." Leon breathed, beginning to rut his hips against yours the best of his ability in the small space of the backseat.

It didn't take long before he was thrusting into you at a considerable pace, his thumb circling your clit while you moaned and writhed beneath him.

The heavy weight of him was comforting as it pressed down on you. It was nearly impossible to catch your breath with him kissing you so feverishly.

The pleasure was overwhelming, making your head spin as you were consumed by the ecstasy that seeped deep into your bones.

At a particularly hard thrust you clenched around him and cried out, making a strained groan rip from his throat.

"Oh, God... please, I'm so close..." You whimpered, tightly holding onto his shoulders to ground yourself as best as you could.

Leon was panting, keeping his thrusts and the pressure on your clit steady.

"You look so good all fucked out." He moaned, watching your glazed eyes and scrunched brows.

You mewled when the coil in your stomach started to tighten, a slow and strong build up.

Like a crack of thunder, that coil snapped and your orgasm washed over you, making you shudder from pleasure.

A jumbled mess of moans left your mouth as the bliss flooded your veins and you clamped down on his cock.

Leon was close behind, grunts and groans signaling his climax as he cupped your chin and pulled you into a kiss.

He spilled inside of you, filling you up with a pleasantly warm feeling. You tried to catch your breath, Leon panting above you.

"Y-You know how you said I'm the prettiest and brightest star in your sky?" You heaved, riding out the aftershock of your release.

"Yeah. What about it?" Leon tilted his head, breathing heavily.

"Stars can only be seen when it's dark. So, will you be my night so I can continue to shine?"

He huffed softly, a sound of fondness before gently cupping your face.

"I'll be whatever you need me to be."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

What would your couples costume with Leon be???

More Leon and others -> 💫

《Leon tgalist》: @vampkennedy @dmitriene @k-fallingstar @entr4p3 @allysunny @withonly-sweetheart @leonslittlekennedy

Lmk if you want to be added to my taglist 🩷

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

[neiptune]

et nunc et semper

cw: NSFT, 3k+ wc, female reader, ancient rome au, slavery, mentions of violence, sexual exploitation, power imbalance, intercourse, fingering, reader has greek origins, sae is head of the most gorgeous domus and you, a slave, eventually become his favorite concubine. one that just so happens to fall in love with the person, other than his brother, sae confides in the most: his most trusted slave, oliver

Sae is a good dominus.

When his brother sold you to him, grown bored and easily irritated after so many years of service, you were expecting complete and utter disinterest at best. However, prepared just in case you wouldn’t be as lucky once more, you also braced yourself for the worse scenarios: corporal punishments, torture, sexual exploitation. Rin’s kindness had always rested in his complete indifference and when he announced you were to be sent away, you spent entire nights awake, praying his brother would be just as merciful.

Against all odds, however, Sae grew fond of you. As soon as he learned you were able to speak Greek, he summoned you to his tablinum. You knew being one of the most trusted advisors to the emperor came with immeasurable privileges and richness, something you were reminded each day you spent in that domus: not even Rin’s residency had as many elaborate marble decorations and paneling, grandiose paintings and a garden one could very well get lost in.

The tablinium is where very few slaves are allowed, only the ones Sae trusts enough to let into the room he receives his clients in. The first time you stepped inside, well aware of teal eyes studying your every movement, you tried not to appear too fascinated by the walls decorated with such rich fresco pictures, nor by the busts of the Itoshi family arranged on pedestals on the other end of the room.

However, you couldn’t help yourself. You were born a slave but your parents were not: your mother was Greek, could read and write, made it a point to teach you both Latin and her native language. Back then you thought you’d never get to see Piraeus firsthand, hence why you were so drawn to the unusual frescoes Sae chose for his study. Aesop’s fables, represented so beautifully you raised your hand with the intention of tracing outlines you wouldn’t even be allowed to observe in a different household.

“Read for me”, Sae said that afternoon, shaking you from your stupor. He pushed a scroll towards you and it was surprising to suddenly discover his interest in science and philosophy. You were there, standing by his chair for hours, reading Anaximander’s theories and studies out loud, until the room grew dark and your voice hoarse.

It became a daily appointment: each evening, you knew your master’s expectations was to find you in the tablinum right after dinner. Never one to sleep much, sometimes he’d keep you there the entire night, your voice the only sound in a household where slaves were barely allowed to speak if their master happened to be around. You read for him without eating, drinking or sleeping, and when the sun would rise you were simply sent back to your duties.

And then, suddenly, he started asking questions too. What did you think of Aristotle, Herodotus, Plutarch? Was his pronunciation beyond saving? When you switched to poetry, Sae allowed you to sit next to him, so that he could follow along, eyes focused on your finger as it grazed each verse, to make it easier for him. He scoffed at Aristophanes’ comedy, which you suspect was a way to hide actual amusement. He enjoyed Sophocles and his tragedies. Then, he enjoyed watching you, the first time you read lyric poetry for him.

“It’s supposed to be accompanied by music, isn’t it?”, he asked, eyes boring into yours. You just lowered your head further and apologized, briefly stated that you didn’t want to sing for him without asking for permission first. Sae granted that permission.

He started touching you, a gentle brush of the fingers at first, to make sure your hair didn’t hide your profile from him. He’d then grasp your chin and tilt your head back to make sure you looked at him while detailing your impressions over a piece you’d just read. You never grew tense under his touch, not even when he’d grab your jaw if your tone got too low or you paused to clear your throat in the middle of a sentence. You did whatever was expected of you. Let him part your legs and sneak a hand underneath your tunic, obeyed when he ordered you didn’t stop reading as he touched you.

Like his brother, Sae grows restless easily and your submissive nature ended up irritating him. You were a little too unfazed, a little too good at carrying on, as if he wasn’t making a wet mess of you with his expert dexterity.

And so he ordered you’d kiss him, crawled onto his lap with your legs spread wide open for him, gasped and moaned and whined into his mouth. Loud, for all to hear. He wasn’t rough, perhaps it was the most gentle you’d ever been touched by a man, by a dominus. He’d take you right there, on his lap, on the table, on the floor. With time, you learned what he liked. On some days, you were allowed boldness: whispers to his ear of how good he felt, how much you desired him, more than any other man as no one could ever compare. Your fingers would card through his hair and pull at the soft strands right as he throbbed inside you, buried so deep you felt him in your throat as tears he’d lick away stained your cheeks. You’d keep your nails clean for he liked it when you scratched his back, you’d gently bite the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

And then, on some other days, you’d let him use you as he pleased, mouth shut, legs parted. He’d be stressed, angry, sometimes too irritated by either his marriage or matters of politics you’d never understand. You were always there for him, far from being the only slave he fucked, but certainly an interesting exception Sae didn’t want to get rid of and instead kept by his side most nights, in his personal bedroom, arms around your body pressed close to his as he softly asked you’d speak to him in your language.

You thought you could fall in love with him, you really did. He’d bring you with him on his travels and you’d find yourself missing him whenever he’d be back to his main residence, where his wife was. Where his children were. Sae would always come back with gifts, still does, and you know his affection has never been less than sincere. Being his favorite concubine means being draped in a cloak of newfound protectiveness, it means being owned social respect. It means being special. He sees you as more than a slave kept as sexual luxury, he cares about you. Wouldn’t that be enough to make a woman fall in love?

And then, one day, Sae came back and brought his most trusted servant with him. One you had never met before.

While you’d occasionally be with him during journeys or whenever he’d retreat to his country house for a couple of weeks during the summer, Oliver was always by Sae’s side. His mother was Sae and Rin’s father’s slave, he was born in their household and is Sae’s domestic worker. Oliver carries out a range of duties: cleans, prepares food in the kitchens, delivers missives. He’s probably the man, other than his own brother, Sae trusts the most in this life. They have a relationship intimate enough for him to keep Oliver as a secretary and an accountant too. He was the one asking his father to pay for a slave’s education, to make sure he could serve him better. You can imagine the affection he has for Oliver runs deep enough to grant him freedom from ownership, one day.

It was your demise and greatest stroke of luck. You never in a million years could’ve imagined how frail the equilibrium you were relying on was, a crimson thread mercilessly severed by a single touch of his fingers. It was desperate, the way you were drawn to him. When he talks, when he looks at you, you feel like a person and not a possession. A dangerous thought to have, and yet.

The days spent helping him in the kitchens, in the garden, the afternoons you’d catch glimpses of him laughing with other servants, all the times you were forced to be on Sae’s lap while he sat across from you, detailing the latest information about his most pressing affairs, eyes only daring searching yours when your master would be deeply focused on a document or a letter. Oliver had such a way of carrying himself, with a dignity you’d never seen in a slave. He wore a perpetual mask of neutral detachment with his master but when Sae would leave, on the fortunate occasions when he wouldn’t be around and all the eyes and ears of the residency could be considered far enough to grant you enough intimacy, Oliver could drop the act his life depended on.

He’s smart, curious by nature. Speaks Greek with a better accent than your master’s and yet still comically distorts some words, which makes you laugh. He’s knowledgeable about horticulture and spends hours curating the gardens surrounded by the peristylium each day, you’d often observe him from the patio as he tended to violets, saffron, thyme, rosemary, carnations. With expert hands that would leave no place for doubt should another slave or the master himself have noticed, he once plucked a rose and bowed as he offered it to you. A slave bowing to another slave. It made your heart flutter.

You hated yourself for desiring him, not because your mere existence revolved around the axiom of any individual desire being forever forbidden, but because your selfishness could cost him much more than his freedom. If Sae so much as imagined Oliver touching you, he could’ve claimed his life and yours with a light snap of the fingers. 

You didn’t care about your life, not really, but his held so much value. He was about to be freed, there was too much at stake for you to ruin everything.

Oliver is infuriating and stubborn, any attempt at avoiding him went up in smoke as he was just as desperately drawn to you and refused to give up on the one thing he ever wished for himself. Whatever he would do of his freedom with no one to share it with. You had insinuated yourself in his heart like dripping water that hollows out stone and for once in his life he, a person who wasn’t allowed to own anything but his feelings, felt alive.

And yet, he waited, persistence confined by respectful boundaries Oliver never once forced you to cross. He waited, exasperating, confident, beautiful in a way that made you wish there were marble statues and saturnalia dedicated to him. In a way that made Sae dull, someone you couldn’t hold anything but gratitude and affection for. A man you could never love the way you loved Oliver, a man you’d never kiss for the first time on your own accord, brief and sweet in the middle of the night, by the kitchen. You remember his eyes and how dangerously beautiful the moonlight reflected in them was, how searing the second touch of his lips felt against yours, the way he’d silently asked for permission he didn’t need, the uncertainty swarming in those eyes almost bringing you to tears.

You didn’t know what being asked for consent meant and you had no idea what choosing to lie with a man would do, how different the pleasure would feel. Despite being uncomfortably taken against the wall, it was the first time you ejoyed sex. Even on exceptional days when Sae would care about your pleasure too, it always felt like making you finish was a stubborn challenge he’d test himself with. Another proof of his ability, void of any sincere care.

Oliver was different. He strokes your skin with genuine tenderness, never chases his own high without making sure you’re feeling good too, without being absolutely certain he isn’t hurting you somehow, or being unintentionally too rough. Some nights he’d drop to his knees, a servant serving you, making you fall apart on his tongue without ever looking away from your face, so beautiful when contorted in pleasure. He’d catch you when you wouldn’t be able to stand any longer, gently lay your trembling body on the hard ground and push your tunic further up, to be able to still look at you before diving in once more. He wouldn’t ask for anything more on those nights, kissing your palm tenderly when you offered to grant him relief too.

“Get some rest”, he’d whisper against your lips before leaving you cold and alone once more. 

Neither of you expected Sae to free you first.

One day, he’d summoned you to the triclinium, the magnificent dining room where he receives his illustrious guests. Oliver was there, standing by the entrance, expression neutral and eyes never daring finding yours. Rin was there too, reclined on his left side on soft cushions while other slaves served him courses of fruits and warm, sweet wine.

“Lie with me”, Sae’s order surprised you: it wasn’t rare for him to keep you close in front of clients, friends or other servants but members of his family were his only drawn line. Obedient, you positioned yourself in front of him, propped on one elbow on the same couch. 

“She’s worth much more than the amount I paid you, brother”, he murmured into your skin, one hand lazily pushing your tunic to your hips.

Oliver’s love had changed you. Made Sae’s touch intolerable, newfound feelings of guilt and shame churning in the pit of your stomach for the very first time. You didn’t wish for his fingers to explore your skin, you didn’t want Rin to watch, or worse, claim his own fair share.

“What, just because you made her your Greek whore?”, the mockery, for the first time, hurts you. These feelings could get you killed.

“Be respectful of my Greek whore”, Sae buried his face into the crook of your neck and you stayed frozen, “she’s also my liberta, now”.

Your breath hitched in your throat and he chuckled, pulling you possessively against him with an arm around your waist. A liberta. A freedwoman.  

Rin’s scoff didn’t faze you.

“Look at me”, Sae’s grasp on your throat burned as he tilted your head backwards and spoke against your mouth, “you are free. I wish to keep you with me as your patronus. Will you stay?”.

For a moment, you feared you might not be able to speak, too overwhelmed by feelings interlaced within you like both ribbons and snakes.

“You honor me”, you were finally able to whisper.

In a way, this was everything you could ever wish for and the worst thing to ever happen to you. It was perfectly clear what being freed meant: you would forever owe him eternal gratutide and reverence. He made sure you’d remain in a legally defined position of obligation for your entire life, a bond that would last forever. You had never felt more trapped.

“Oliver, serve some wine to your mistress”, Sae’s gaze never left yours as he quietly ordered. Your heart squeezed painfully as you kissed him, doing everything in your power to keep your focus on your patron and nothing else.

Now, on nights like this, when you lie tangled in warm sheets with your lover, you’re even more dreadfully aware of what’s at stake. His freedom, your freedom. Both your heads, probably.

This bedroom in Sae’s domus now belongs to you, along with all the valuable possessions within it. He provides financially for you and finally grants your most intimate moments their due privateness. His slaves are your slaves, you are free to wander around the house as you please, accompany him publicly for everyone to see. Rin once said he’d never seen him treat his own wife with such devotion and Sae simply pulled you closer in response.

“This one’s different”.

He loves you, you know he does. When you read for him the world stops, Rome and perhaps the entire empire dissipating into thin smoke. His own dimension ruled by your voice alone, eyes shut when the pads of your gentle fingers explore him, lips he would start wars for.

But all that ceases to exist when you’re in Oliver’s arms, his nose grazing your neck, the deep rumble of his voice vibrating in a chest pressed to yours.

“Does he hurt you?”, you ask and he peels his weight away from your body, propping himself on one elbow by your side instead.

“No”, he replies quietly and smiles when you reach to grab his other arm and place it around your waist. You then hum, fingers tracing scars you’re familiar with. Faded marks on his chest, his back, his shoulder and arm. Oliver’s gaze softens at your unspoken worry.

“His father”, is the explanation he offers, “Sae never touched me”. His thumb starts stroking the skin above your hip and you sigh, relieved, melting into him like you always do.

“Does he ever hurt you?”, the question makes you chuckle but Oliver is serious, scowl getting deeper.

“No”.

“Does it feel good? Does it feel the same?”.

His hand disappears underneath the sheets and you jolt weakly against him when knuckles graze your bare skin before fingers start collecting the slick that still trickles out of your spent hole. You take his face in your hands and pull him closer to make sure he looks at you, not wanting your next words to sound as if you’re only speaking under the effect of the pleasure he’s providing.

“Never. It could never-”, a gasp when he dips one finger inside you, “it will never”.

For the following minutes, the only sounds in the room are your soft whimpers against his mouth and the increasingly wet, lewd noises produced by his fingers, the increasingly restless roll of your hips barely able to meet movements that drive you insane.

“I love you”, he murmurs, a low groan bubbling up from his throat when he curls his fingers and you see stars, muffle a moan into his neck, one hand closing around his wrist and nails digging into his skin. You’re still shaking when he pulls you into his chest, brings one of your legs around his hips. There’s a familiar hardness pressing against you and you tentatively rub yourself against it, face hidden into the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“I will buy you”, you whisper, “I will buy you from him and set you free”.

Oliver stills your movements with a gentle hold of your hips, his other hand stroking the small of your back. Having you close is, once more, enough.

“He will never sell me”.

“Then you should stop seeing me. He will grant you freedom one day but if he ever finds out…”.

“What an absurd suggestion”, a quiet laugh shakes him, “giving up on the one thing that gives my life meaning at all”.

“He’ll take your life, Oliver. You could die because of me”.

“Then so be it. I would die after having lived”.

You pull back and meet his only half playful gaze.

“Don’t mock me. And don’t you dare leave me alone in this life”.

“Is that a request or an order, mistress?”.

Your groan elicits a chuckle. Oliver kisses the crown of your head, wraps his fingers in your hair.

“He owns my freedom, everything else is yours. I don’t fear punishment, only an existence void of you”, he speaks in Greek, attentively, and your heart throbs painfully once more. You kiss him, soft and gentle, then decide to be just as playful while your thumb delicately grazes the portion of skin underneath his eye.

“Really?”, you also ask in Greek, “I heard rumors of his wife requesting to lie with you. Does that feel the same?”.

He offers a boyish smile, gently bumping his forehead against yours.

“You’re ridiculous”.

“Not a very convincing answer”.

Oliver sighs.

“It feels like nothing, woman”.

You hum, feigning pensiveness.

“They say she’s beautiful”.

“She is”.

“Just so you know, this conversation is not going well for you”.

Oliver chuckles, lowers his head to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. He stays here, lips brushing against yours, in hopes you’ll swallow his next words and let them take root in every crevice of your body. Maybe then you’ll believe him.

“Aphrodite herself wouldn’t be a match for you”.

“Flatterer”, you whisper, amused. It’s not lost on you, the way he intentionally used her Greek name instead of naming her Roman counterpart, Venus.

Oliver smiles, taking a second to observe features already carved into his very soul. He cups your cheek and thinks he wouldn’t mind dying like this, with you turning your head enough to press your lips to his wrist, eyes softened by sincere adoration.

“In love”, he corrects.

[megalony]

Heated Discussion

This is a new Evan Buckley imagine I had been wanting to write for a while now, and finally got the inspiration for it.

I hope you will all like it, let me know what you think.

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Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: A strange conversation with an old friend leads to an argument which stresses out Evan's pregnant wife.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Apprehension and surprise flooded Evan's stomach when he opened the front door. He already knew who would be on the doorstep before he opened it, but it was still a shock to see him stood there.

He almost didn't believe the text he got the other day, asking if they could meet up after what had been months of simply texts and the odd phone call.

"Come in," He took a step back and motioned his arm to let Connor walk past him into the hallway.

In all the time they had been friends and for however long it had been that he and (Y/n) lived here, Evan couldn't think of a time when Connor had ever been inside the house or had even clapped eyes on it. They always met up at bars or restaurants with other friends tagging along or at parties.

He led the way through the hall, noticing that Connor was looking at all the photos decorating the walls and the ornaments scattered around. There were the odd canvas pictures on the walls which (Y/n) had beautifully decorated. Photos on the walls that Evan had taken himself when he found a new obsession with photography. And a lot of little clay crafts and pompom creations and random things the boys had made over the years.

Evan headed into the kitchen, bypassed the island in the middle and moved towards the fridge.

"Want a drink?"

"Sure." Connor walked into the pastel blue kitchen and folded his arms on the kitchen island, arching his lower back out.

He nodded when Evan placed a bottle of beer in front of him and watched Evan lean on the opposite end of the counter. Evan pressed his left hand down on the edge and propped one hip against the cupboard while his other hand drew patterns along the edge of his glass that was already starting to drip with condensation.

"Nice place, don't think I've been inside before."

"Thanks. So uh, I haven't seen you in a while. Last time we hung out was at Dan's birthday, right?" Evan took a sip of his drink while his eyes studied Connor closely.

He had been shocked, to say the least, when Connor messed out of the blue three days ago and after a bit of catching up, he asked if they could meet up. There had to be a reason, there always was these days. None of the gang- which consisted mainly of six of them who had been friends in college- ever just messaged or hung out for the sake of being with friends.

There was always a reason, whether that was to celebrate a birthday, to get drunk after someone had lost a job or had a fight or made some kind of achievement. And Evan knew this was no different, there would be a reason Connor had asked for a catch up.

And with Evan working a lot of odd shifts recently and wanting to spend time with (Y/n) and the boys, he said it would be easier for Connor to come over for a chat. Rather than meeting up for a drink somewhere. It meant Evan could relax at home too while they talked.

"Yeah, I think so. God, I still feel hungover from that."

A calmer, more playful smile came over Evan's lips and he nodded. He felt much the same.

Dan had insisted they all go to a club for his birthday and it had been the first time in a long while that Evan had gone out with people other than the team and got drunk with them. Dan kept buying the shots and Evan was the last man standing, the last one able to keep up with Dan for taking shots. Evan was a fun drunk, so (Y/n) was always telling him.

He became sweeter and dopey when he was drunk, and (Y/n) had been delighted when- after he called and politely asked her to pick him up- she got there and he happily slurred 'there's my lady' and attached himself to her like a monkey.

Evan had been very glad the next morning that the boys had spent the night with (Y/n)'s parents because Evan had suffered a bad hangover from that night.

"Great night," Connor mused with a smile and took a swig of his drink before he took a glance around. "Where's (Y/n)?"

"Gone for a lie down with Luke, he's got a cold and (Y/n) didn't feel well."

Evan nodded his head in the direction of the hallway. Carter was at school, but Luke wasn't at nursery because he was coughing and croaking and hadn't had a good nights sleep. About an hour ago he had finally started to become sleepy, and (Y/n) felt under the weather so she took him upstairs to have a power nap together.

The only times Evan knew his wife to take a nap was when she was really ill, or when she was pregnant. And she was eight months along now.

"I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Okay…" Evan tried to smile, but that sounded omnibus and rather worrying. Those words didn't always bode well.

"You know I got married two years ago," Connor lifted his head but he leaned down further against the counter with his arms stretched out in front of him like he was going to reach out for Evan at any moment. He was trying to steady his hands that were messing with his beer bottle much the same as Evan was.

"Yeah, things still good between you two?" He remembered the wedding, it had been a good day. Evan and (Y/n) had been invited to the ceremony and the evening party but they didn't manage to stay into the evening because Carter hadn't been well.

He would admit he and (Y/n) didn't know Connor's wife Laura very well, the four of them never hung out very often and Laura didn't go on nights out when the group did. They had met her twice before the wedding.

It was different with (Y/n), she and Evan had been together since college so she had naturally gotten to know all of Evan's friends very well. She had been on lots of their nights out and all the boys thought she was loving and caring and funny. She was well and truly one of their own.

"Things are great- well, they were great. We wanted to start a family after we got married, so we tried, but nothing happened. We went to a doctor… and it turns out to be my fault."

"Your fault?"

"I can't have kids, Buck."

Evan rolled his lips together and leaned back off the counter. He scratched the back of his neck while his other hand started to drum against the counter out of nervous, ADHD habit.

He didn't know any of his friends to have that problem. Most of his close friends already had kids, Hen, Eddie, Bobby, even Chimney and Maddie now had Jee together. And a few of the guys from college had started settling down. Admittedly Evan had been the first one of them all to have kids, he barely scraped nineteen when he and (Y/n) had Carter.

"Oh, hey I'm sorry, that must be rough." Evan wasn't sure what the appropriate response to that was.

He couldn't say he understood because he didn't know what that was like. He didn't know what it felt like to be desperate to start a family only to find out there was something wrong with him that meant it wasn't going to be a reality. Kids had always been something Evan wanted in his life and he had been lucky enough to find (Y/n) and have Carter early on. They never had a problem starting a family. Carter was ten, they had Luke who was four and now they were about to have another baby.

Evan couldn't relate to Connor's problem and he didn't know how he could help or what he could say to try and take the sting out of it.

He realised a moment too late that maybe asking Connor round wasn't the best idea, now he knew what kind of problem he was going through.

Coming here meant Connor was witnessing the house scattered with trucks and toys and crayons and arts and crafts.

Evan could see Connor was already staring ahead at the fridge and Evan didn't have to turn round to know why. There were at least two new scan photos on the fridge because it made Evan giddy every time he opened the fridge to think about his impending arrival. His little girl.

And there was Carter's latest painting stuck up on the fridge which happened to be of a fire truck with Evan painted beside it in his bright yellow helmet. It was a picture Evan was immensely proud of and he would frame it soon once they took it off the fridge. There also happened to be a picture of all four of them on a day out at the beach pinned up there, and a picture of Luke sat in the fire truck with such a cheesy smile.

All of that wasn't going to make Connor feel much better with his current situation, being here was going to make him feel worse. And it made Evan feel bad for inviting him round without knowing the circumstances first.

"Connor, what does this have to do with me? Why did you want to talk to me?"

What use would talking to Evan do? Granted, he could be a listener when he put his mind to it and he liked to help people. He was always chatting and trying to talk people through situations and do what he could to help them. But he couldn't do very much.

Evan couldn't talk this situation into a better state. He couldn't come up with solutions, he couldn't do anything, it was nothing to do with him and it wasn't his speciality.

"We're thinking about other options, but adoption takes time and Laura wants to have a baby, she wants that experience, you know? So another option is getting a sperm donor."

"Oh."

A shiver crawled down Evan's spine and his expression went slack when realisation hit him like a train.

Oh.

They wanted him to be a donor? Why him? Why would they think of getting a sperm donor and have Evan be the first person they thought of? Was he even the first person they came to about this? Had they been to anyone else in their friend group, had they considered going to a donor bank?

The thought of being a donor had never crossed Evan's mind before. He was a blood donor, sure. He donated every month along with the rest of the team, like clockwork on the last Monday of every month. But blood was different to sperm. Blood saved lives, it didn't create them.

Evan thought the only lives he would ever create were the kids he had with his wife. He didn't consider donating and having other kids out there in the world that he would never get to see or know or bring up and raise as his own. The thought of someone else raising his kids made the hairs on his arms spike up and had his throat tightening in apprehension.

"I… Connor, that's-"

"I know, I know it's a lot to ask and a lot to take in. All I'm asking is for you to think about it, take some time, talk to (Y/n)." His expression was sincere and sorrowful.

He didn't mean to spring this on Evan and he didn't want an answer right away because of course an immediate response would be a no. He was just asking for Evan to think it over and consider what he was asking. That's all.

"Why me?"

"Because you're you. You're the guy who livens up a party, the one who does anything to help a stranger for no reward or praise. And you're a great dad, you're boys are sweet and they take after you."

"Well I- I'm flattered, truly." His lips quirked into a lopsided smile and he continued to rake his nails along the back of his neck causing deep red gashes to appear on his skin. "I'll think about it."

***

Dragging her feet, (Y/n) trudged through the hall and slowly made her way into the kitchen. Her head was spinning, her back was aching and her lower stomach felt heavy each time the baby twisted around.

She wanted to go back to bed, desperately, but she knew sleeping the afternoon away meant she wasn't going to sleep well tonight. Her fingers dragged through her hair and a smile pulled at her lips when she looked over at the kitchen table and saw Evan sat there.

He had his back to her, his head resting on his hand and he looked to be scrolling through his phone.

"Hi baby… did Connor come round?" Her fingertips trailed across his shoulder and she leaned over to kiss his curls which were running wild over his head.

She felt him lean back into her touch and he grinned when she kissed his temple. Her and Luke's power nap had extended a bit longer than (Y/n) first intended and she felt awful that Connor seemed to have come and gone and she hadn't even popped down to say hello to him. The last time she saw him was when she had picked Evan up from Dan's birthday party and she was sure Connor wouldn't remember that as he had been one drink away from collapsing on the floor.

"Yeah, left about half hour ago. How's Luke?"

"Fast asleep in our bed, thought I'd leave him a bit longer since he's settled. Was Connor okay?"

She kissed his cheek before she slowly moved towards the kettle and flicked it on. She could do with a drink to see if it would perk her up and ward off her headache.

Once she'd made a drink, (Y/n) twisted round and backed up into the corner of the counter. She leaned her back against the smooth edge, hoping that leaning against it would click her spine into place and rid her of the ache in her back. She slouched back and cradled her scolding cup between her palms while she looked across at her husband.

He spun round in his chair and folded one arm over the back while his other hand tapped against the table. That was a sign that he was thinking about something, that he might be worked up over something and it made (Y/n) curious.

She had been wondering what Connor wanted to come over and talk about and now it seemed he hadn't just come for a catch up or to ask about having another night out.

"He asked me to be a sperm donor for him."

"I beg your pardon?" (Y/n) set her cup down and moved both hands to grip the counter behind her. She could feel herself turning rigid as shockwaves coursed through her blood.

What had she missed?

What had they been talking about while she had been for a nap? Had she gone to sleep and woke up in a different time? Had she slept for a week instead of a few hours?

This was something strange and out of the blue. Connor had never asked something like this before, he had never really asked them for anything. But this was strange. What kind of friend came round and asked someone to be a sperm donor for them? It didn't matter how close they were, this wasn't the kind of thing friends asked of friends, it wasn't something friends willingly did for others.

Evan kept his hand gripping the table while his foot started to tap against the tiled floor. His other hand moved to the back of his neck again and his nails scratched into the skin until he was pinching himself and on the brink of drawing blood beneath his thin but relatively sharp nails.

Maybe he should have started the conversation off better than that rather than jumping straight to the point like that.

But he had been stunned. He was still stunned at what he had been asked and he wasn't sure how to process this or how to think and contemplate it. What was he supposed to think? Was he supposed to be flattered, angry, uneasy, happy? What was he meant to do?

"Him and Laura wanted to start a family, but he found out he can't have kids… so he asked me to be a donor for them."

Evan pushed up from the table and walked across the kitchen until he was in front of (Y/n). He leaned his right hand out against the kitchen island and his other hand found his hip. He could feel this conversation wasn't going to go down very well.

"And you're actually considering this?" Her nails began to tap out a frantic rhythm against the counter as she tried to stay calm, but this conversation was making it very hard. Just the thought of this was unnerving. If she disagreed with this, then (Y/n) was going to be made out to be the bad guy. She might be seen as being in the wrong for not wanting Evan to do this.

But was she in the wrong? Surely it was fair for (Y/n) to be concerned and uneasy about her husband potentially donating and having a child out there in the world that their friends were going to raise. They would know anytime that they saw Connor's child that it was Evan's biological kid.

Biology didn't mean everything, (Y/n) knew that. But she knew Evan like the back of her hand. He wouldn't be able to stay away. He would want to see his child, to know if they were okay and what they were up to and how they were doing. He wouldn't want to have a baby and then just hand it away, never to be involved again.

She lifted her chin to look up at her husband who took a step closer like he was trying to close the distance between them and close the argument that was now inevitable.

"I don't know, I at least need to think about it."

"Baby, that's not a normal thing to ask a friend. And why now? Evan, we're having a baby, we're gonna have three kids. I don't think now is the time to think about you having a fourth kid out there that you're never going to be able to see or talk to or tell them that they're truly yours."

(Y/n) ran her hand over her face and slouched back into the counter that was starting to hold more and more of her weight up.

Was she being unreasonable? Was (Y/n) being horrible for not wanting to consider this? But surely, she had some sort of say in this. She knew it was Evan's body and at the end of the day it would always be his choice, but this didn't concern just him. This concerned their family too.

This meant that there would be a piece of Evan out there that they couldn't talk to or connect with. A child they would never get to know.

They were married, they had three kids together and they were happy. Was Evan really going to be okay having a fourth child that he would never get to hold or cuddle or talk to? Would he be okay seeing them at parties or passing in the street, knowing they were his but never being able to stake that claim to them?

If it were (Y/n), she wouldn't be able to give up a child like that. And she had seen the way Evan was when the boys were born, he had that instant connection and love and adoration. He never wanted to put them down. This wasn't going to be the same.

"Connor can't have kids, (Y/n)."

The way Evan spoke made (Y/n) narrow her eyes and scoff. He spoke as if they had some part in this or some responsibility to Connor, but they didn't. That wasn't their fault and there was nothing they needed to do in this dilemma because Connor wasn't family or their partner. He was a friend.

"That's not your fault or your obligation to help, Evan."

"He wants a family."

His voice was so passive and calm that it made (Y/n) boil over with rage. How could Evan be so calm and easy going about this? How could he be contemplating this? If he went through with this there would be no turning back. There would be no way for Evan to stake his claim on that child because they wouldn't truly be his and he wouldn't have any rights to them.

Her temper was flaring and rising inside of her like a volcano starting to bubble over and it made her body shake with an overflow of adrenaline.

"Why you? There are donation banks out there Evan, so people don't get picky or try to find their donor and so there's no involvement and complications." If it were (Y/n) going through this, she wouldn't want a friend to donate, it would complicate things. She wouldn't want to know anything about the donor, as long as they were healthy that would be enough.

They shouldn't of asked Evan. It wasn't right, it was far too much to ask.

Did Connor and Laura not think this through? They shouldn't of asked Evan because they were friends. In the future if they went out together and people asked Connor how his child was, that was going to sting for Evan. That was going to bring up emotions he wouldn't be able to voice because of Connor.

When he talked about his child, Connor would be talking about Evan's child, that would change things in their friendship group. Evan wouldn't be able to ask about the child, he wouldn't be able to pay too much interest and what would happen if he were around the child?

Evan wouldn't be able to tell them the truth, he would have to stay at arm's length. He would be another one of their father's friends, nothing more.

"They want someone they trust and know."

"That doesn't make a difference, you won't be raising the child!"

A twinge tore through (Y/n)'s abdomen and she cringed, gripping the counter tighter until it was cutting into her palms and leaving lagged indents in her skin. Her back clicked in place when she pushed up straighter and shifted her weight onto her heels that were scraping against the floor.

This whole mess was stressing her and the baby out but (Y/n) couldn't just walk away and leave everything unanswered and sit in a panic. They had to talk about this and she had to know whether Evan was actually going to go through with this or not.

"Think about it, if you did this, they wouldn't let you be involved. You wouldn't be able to be around them much, you'd see everything from afar. They wouldn't tell the kid you're their dad. Could you honestly let a child go like that, Evan? Because seeing you with Carter and Luke, I don't think you could hand a baby over and cut all ties like that."

"I don't know."

"And when you go out with him and people ask about his kid, you can't pipe up and say anything. You'd have to sit there listening to all the achievements, the milestones, the illnesses and videos and pictures, and you couldn't share any of those moments."

Her tone was firm and her lips pressed into a thin line which made Evan sigh and tilt his head forward. He clamped one hand down on the counter and dragged the other down his face as he bowed his head and closed his eyes.

"(Y/n), it's not that simple and you know that." He lifted his head, trying to take a deep breath to calm down the argument that was evolving. "This is Connor we're talking about-"

"Oh yes, I know Evan. This is the guy that laughed and asked you why you were tying yourself down to me when I got pregnant. Or have you forgotten the way he joked with you and taunted me for having Carter? He told you it would be a mistake, and now he thinks that because he is doing things in 'the right order' he has every right to come here and ask something that big of you, of us."

Evan may have been able to forgive and forget on that front, but (Y/n) couldn't. She could let things be, but she wouldn't forget the way Connor had acted when they hard Carter.

She wouldn't forget how he had clapped Evan on the back while everyone else congratulated him and asked why he wanted to make this kind of mistake? He told Evan that having a kid at nineteen, before he finished college or had a steady job was a mistake and he didn't need to 'settle down' with (Y/n) so early. He could still wait a while and see if she was truly the one for him.

"He thinks he has the right to judge us for having Carter and then suddenly ask something so big, something no one has the right to ask. And all because, what? He's done the social order of things only to realise he's lacking in one area. That doesn't give him the right to pretend he's righteous and ask you to donate for him."

(Y/n) had always been weary of Connor after hearing what he'd said when he thought she wasn't around.

She had seen the way it upset Evan and how angry he had been because there were only a few of his friends who understood that a family, a proper, loving family, was all he'd ever wanted.

(Y/n) dragged her hand up and down her lower stomach while she looked the other way so she didn't have to focus on Evan's conflicted expression.

She felt sick. Her stomach was weighing her down to the floor, her back felt like it was snapping in two and her head was spinning so hard and fast she worried she might faint. This conversation was getting them nowhere, it was only creating an argument that was going to wake Luke and send them all into a state of distress.

"But the fact is that he's asked me, and the least I can do is consider it properly. I can't imagine a world without our boys or the pain it would cause to know I was the reason we couldn't have kids. And whether or not I donate or someone else does, I can see the reasoning of asking someone you know. It's comforting. If there are any problems, you can ask for medical history, you know they're a good person."

"Do what you want. It's your choice, but you have to think it through."

She wasn't going to be able to dissuade Evan no matter what he chose to do. He wasn't listening to her, he wasn't seeing this from the other angle. All he could see was his chance to help someone because that was what he was like, he wanted to help people and if he had the chance, he took it. Damn the consequences for himself.

Well if Evan wanted to do this, it was his choice. (Y/n) had no say because it wasn't her body, she could tell Evan she didn't agree and make sure he knew her thoughts and views, but she couldn't say yes or no because this was nothing to do with her body.

If Evan wanted to watch a fourth child from a distance, knowing he could most likely never talk to them or see their achievements or be in their life, then he could do that. He could do that and possibly make the biggest mistake of his life when that baby was here and he realised he wanted them, badly, but could never take them back.

And (Y/n) had a feeling that if he did this, it would be the last they saw of Connor and Laura. They wouldn't want to be around her or Evan too much in case their children got too friendly and their child realised Connor wasn't their actual dad. They wouldn't want Evan getting close to his true kin or getting attached or wanting to be involved in any way.

They would be selfish and push Evan out, once the baby was born, (Y/n) could see them not telling him anything. No pictures, no calls, no updates, nothing. He would be cut off just like every other donor out there.

Evan might be under the impression that because they were all friends, he would get more out of this. He would get to see this child grow up, but he wouldn't. He would be demoted from friend to donor.

"Baby don't do that-"

"I'm done with this argument." (Y/n) pressed her lips together to stop herself from crying, but she could feel the tears welling up behind her eyes creating a sting in her nose.

She turned on her heels, pushing her weight off the counter and back onto her legs that were close to buckling beneath her. She wasn't going to stand here and argue. He was going to make up his mind either way, this argument wasn't going to persuade or dissuade him in any direction. He didn't need her for these decisions and (Y/n) wasn't arguing when it was making her feel ill.

Her left hand trailed along the counter while her right hand pushed into the lower side of her abdomen like she was trying to give the baby a nudge to make them shift. They were pressing down on her hips and it was painful.

She kept her head tilted down, staring at the floor as she tried to pass Evan but she had to pause when his hand curled around her upper arm. But a deep growl left his lips when (Y/n) yanked her arm out of his grip and carried on walking.

"Get off."

She wasn't sure where she was trying to go. She was too wound up to try and go back to sleep with Luke and he didn't want to go upstairs in case she disturbed him. He didn't sleep at all last night and he had no nap yesterday, he needed his rest.

She passed the dining room and aimed for the living room, praying Evan wouldn't follow and drag this argument with him because (Y/n) knew if she sat down, she wasn't likely to be able to get up without a struggle.

"Baby, please don't walk away, this isn't just my decision."

He wanted to talk and he wanted to be close, he didn't want (Y/n) pulling away from him and not accepting his touch like this.

"Yes it is. If I told you not to and you regretted it, that would always be my fault. If I told you to go ahead and then you got shut out of that child's life for good, I would be to blame. My opinion is I don't think this is a good idea, but it's up to you. Help them, tell them to find someone else, whatever."

(Y/n) flung her hand out behind her to reflect that she was tossing this argument out the window and she couldn't hide the venom that seeped into her tone.

If she pushed Evan to do this and he couldn't be part of that child's life, he might regret it for the rest of his life. He might wallow about the child he could never see, never hug, never talk to. He might think about them for years to come and never come to terms with giving them up. But if he didn't do it, he might regret it later in life, he might think he missed out on a chance to do good, to give life and purpose to someone. Evan was always searching for ways to make a difference in the world.

(Y/n) couldn't make this choice for him, it had to be his own decision. But she feared if he went through with this, she herself might resent him for it.

She swallowed down a groan and aimed for the sofa that was calling out to her shaking legs. Her hand slid down to cradle the side of her stomach and both legs twinged and shook when a searing spasm pulsed through her abdomen.

Tears welled up in her eyes and she couldn't stop them from spilling down her face when she heard Evan groan and storm back into the kitchen.

Her hand reached out and clenched down around the back of the armchair while her other hand cradled her stomach that suddenly felt like it had dropped down towards her feet. She couldn't help but close her eyes as tears streamed down her face and her body doubled forward like she was a spring coiling back down.

Suddenly sitting down didn't feel like the right option even though her legs were close to buckling beneath her.

She twisted to the right, trying to gather enough strength to stand up properly again and aim for the stairs. She couldn't just stand here like a statue all afternoon. She needed to go calm down and the bedroom seemed the best place to do that, or maybe she could take a bath and see if that would relax her. (Y/n) didn't feel well, she needed to go calm down.

It took all the strength she had left to push off the armchair and try to shuffle towards the stairs and (Y/n) found she couldn't stand upright without leaning against something. Standing up straight hurt her stomach and her lower back too much. Her body slumped to the left, reaching out for the bannister to hold her up as her fingers dug deep into her stomach and her knees trembled.

She reached the stairs, but more tears were pouring down her face and curse words flew past her lips when her knees crashed down on the stairs.

"Fuck… oow, Evan."

Confusion tore through Evan and unease rattled through his blood as he spun on his heels and moved into a brazen walk down the hall. He didn't like the pain he could hear laced into (Y/n)'s voice or the guttural cry that followed.

His brows furrowed and he looked around, expecting to find her in the living room but he didn't like the sight he was faced with when he looked over at the stairs.

(Y/n) was knelt down on the stairs, one arm slumped on the step with her forehead pressed into her arm. And her other arm was cradling her lower stomach, a very bad sign indeed. Each breath was shallow and barely there at all and she was trembling enough to make thumps and taps rattle against the stairs.

"Baby, hey, baby what's the matter?"

He skidded across the floor to be beside her. His arms were stretched out before he was even within reaching distance of her and once he was close enough, Evan crouched down behind her with his hands on her waist. He waited a few seconds to see if (Y/n) would move or even turn his way, but she seemed too caught up in her pain to move or talk to him.

He looped his left arm around her waist across her bump with his hand flush against her stomach. And his right hand slid up beneath her arm to cup her shoulder so he could gently ease her back off the stairs. He pulled her as carefully as he could until her back was flush against his chest and her head flopped back against his shoulder.

"Talk to me. What happened, did you fall?"

(Y/n) managed to open her eyes to stare up at Evan and take in his panic-stricken expression. Her hand reached down to clench around his wrist that was resting over her stomach and she shakily grabbed his other hand while her eyes cast downwards.

"Fuck- oh, my water broke."

Panic took over Evan's system and had him on red alert. He glanced down over her shoulder, leaning his chest forward into her back to get a better view and he realised she was right. Her waters had broken. She was in enough pain that it had to be contractions she was feeling.

They were at thirty-six weeks now, labour could technically happen anytime now, although they would have hoped for another two weeks or more before having the baby.

"Oh oh… sweetheart I- I'm sorry. Come on, sitting on the stairs isn't gonna help either of you."

Evan kept her leaning back against his chest and he slowly shuffled off the lower step so he could get back on his feet. He eased (Y/n) back with him, moving both arms so they were around her waist, cupping her stomach to take her weight for her. He held her up with ease when her knees trembled and buckled and he carefully turned them to the side and started walking towards the armchair.

Once they were at the chair, Evan turned to the side so he could ease (Y/n) down into the chair. She sat on the edge, moving her hand to grip the armrest as she balanced her weight on her heels and sat forward, pushing her stomach down into her thighs.

As much as she felt angry towards Evan for this argument, she couldn't help but reach out for his hand and pull him closer as if she thought he would actually walk away from her right now.

"I'm b-blaming you for this." She whispered, following Evan through watering eyes as he crouched down next to her thigh and moved his free hand to grip her knee tightly. His puppy dog eyes stayed locked with hers while he leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss against her stomach.

There was nothing but love and sorrow hiding within his eyes that were close to tears. He hadn't meant to upset her this much or stress her out and push her into labour. He shouldn't have argued. He should have walked away or tried to simmer down the conversation when he noticed (Y/n) becoming uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, I am. Are you okay?" It seemed like a silly question but it tumbled past his lips before he could think better of it.

This wasn't how they were supposed to have their third baby. This wasn't part of the plan. They were supposed to have another week or two so they could get everything ready. Maddie was going to have the boys and they would be prepared and not in the middle of a heated argument when this happened.

(Y/n) didn't think she had the will power to use her voice yet, so she settled for nodding while she gingerly moved his hand towards her stomach. His touch always soothed and calmed her down and it would do the same for the baby too.

"I'll ring Maddie and check if she's off work, see if she can have the boys and get Carter from school."

With her teeth sinking into her lower lip, (Y/n) leaned forward a little more so she could nuzzle her face into the top of Evan's hair. She felt his fingers softly gliding over her stomach and when she kissed the top of his head, Evan tilted his head back to look up at her. His free hand moved to cup her chin between his thumb and finger and he searched her eyes for a few seconds, making sure she was calm and no longer panicking.

His eyes softened and he dived up to steal a kiss, feeling like he had been starved of her lips for weeks rather than just a few hours while she had been upstairs with Luke.

He kissed her like he was trying to pour all of his thoughts into her mind and kiss an apology into her lips. His tongue swiped across her lips and delved against hers, taking any air she had and breathing it back to her. And his lips curved into a burning hot grin when he felt (Y/n)'s hand move from his wrist to secure at the nape of his neck to pull him closer.

"I think you're right."

His breathless words, spoken against her lips, had (Y/n) frowning. What was she right about? Being in labour?

She nudged her nose against his, the confusion in her eyes begging him to explain what he was referring to. If she weren't so flustered and ravaged with pain, (Y/n) might have given him a sarcastic response before knowing what he meant. She would of said 'of course I'm right' or 'what else did you expect?' but she wasn't in the frame of mind to strike up sarcasm right now.

"If I was a donor, they wouldn't want me involved… I couldn't be there for any of it, not like this. I don't think I could do that." His hands moved forward so both palms were grazing across her stomach and he leaned over to press his lips against her bump over the top of her shirt.

If he went through with it, then it would be Connor in Evan's place. He would know his child was being loved and raised by someone else, and maybe that would be okay for a while. Maybe he could get in the mindset that it wouldn't really be his kid, he was offering up a bit of himself to help others. He would be giving an offering and that was it, Connor would be the one putting the time and effort in to raise the baby.

And Evan believed being a donor was such a good thing, it helped so many people. But one had to be detached to be a sperm donor. They had to be uncaring and ready to cut ties and not know anything about any kids they may have out there.

Evan wasn't that kind of person. The marines had tried to drill the love and compassion out of him, mould him into a machine and he left specifically because that wasn't who he was or who he wanted to be.

If he was the donor, he couldn't be there like this. He couldn't be at the scans or revel in the scan photos or the heartbeat, and he couldn't be at the birth like he was with his three children.

Being here right now, with (Y/n) in his arms and their baby between them, this was the kind of way Evan wanted to bring life into the world. He wanted to be involved.

"That's not a bad thing." (Y/n) wove her fingers into Evan's wild curls and nuzzled her cheek against the top of his head, leaning further into his embrace.

If Evan was going to bring life into the world, he wanted to be involved, in every aspect of it.

[fluentmoviequoter]

First Day to Live

After Last Day to Live

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!SWAT!reader

Summary: Tim leads you into forever together, making the first day of the rest of your life perfect.

Warnings/Word Count: 1.1k+ words of fluff

A/N: Thank you @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses for this idea! It was supposed to be a blurb but I got carried away😅 | Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

You sigh, rolling your stiff shoulder forward as you push the door closed behind you. After you set your bag aside, you walk farther into the house, listening for Tim. He’s off work today and the rest of the weekend. After the last few days of being in the field with your team, you’re looking forward to a quiet weekend with him. 

As you enter the kitchen, Tim looks up from the counter. He’s got a dish towel tossed over his shoulder, and your favorite food is cooking behind him. 

“You’re the best,” you sigh, smiling as you lean against the end of the cabinets. 

Tim smiles, but his eyes flit between your shoulders and your face. 

“What?” you ask. 

“You’re favoring your right arm,” he points out. He sets his utensil aside and then wipes his hands on the towel as he walks toward you. 

“Yeah,” you admit. “It’s fine though, just a little stiff.”

“From?” Tim asks, brushing his fingers lightly over your collarbone toward your left shoulder. 

You shiver under his touch and unconsciously lean closer to him. “I landed on it. The impact rolled it a little. Might bruise overnight, but nothing serious.”

Tim smiles and repeats, “From?”

Sighing, you answer, “Street, Tan, and I had to jump off a roof.”

“You jumped off a roof and it’s nothing serious?”

“Tim,” you say, laying your hands against his chest. “It was a patio roof and we landed in soft dirt. We’re fine. The alternative was way worse.”

“The explosion this morning,” Tim remembers. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“Remember my promise?” you ask. 

“The promise to think about the outcome before you act? Yeah, and clearly you considered all the possibilities of jumping off a roof.”

You smile at his sarcastic tone, but you both know you did what you had to do. There were no self-sacrificial motives, no better options, and a stiff shoulder truly is the best outcome you could have had. Tim cares about you, and you’ve been more thoughtful about what you do since he accused you of treating every day like it was the last to live. You want to come home to him… and you don’t want to get yelled at again. 

“I’ve got ibuprofen in my system,” you say. “So I’m ready for anything.”

“No, you’re not,” Tim argues. “Dinner is almost ready.”

“I can smell that,” you reply, smiling brightly. “You’re the best.”

“I know.”

Tim taps your waist softly, then directs you to change. He’s already put your favorite comfortable outfit in the bathroom. You return to the kitchen once you’re ready for a night in. Tim is putting prepared plates on two trays, and you lift your brows. 

“What are we doing?” you ask. 

“Follow me.”

You take Tim’s hand, following him to the back door. He leads you to the patio, and your jaw drops when you see the evening he’s prepared for you.

“This is amazing,” you murmur, looking at the decorations and comfortable setup beneath the Los Angeles sunset. 

“That’s all you,” Tim replies, gently patting his front pocket.

Tim pushes your sleeve out of the way to look at your shoulder before he pulls you against his side. Every moment you spend with Tim is perfect, but a quiet evening is what you both need. 

“Can you do me a favor?” Tim asks. 

You look toward him, and he gestures to Kojo, sprawled across Tim’s lap and keeping him in place. 

“Sure,” you answer. 

“Can you get some socks out of my drawer?”

Pinching your brows, you remain in place and stare at Tim. 

“Please?” he adds softly, brushing his hand over your hair. 

You nod, despite his odd request, and stand. Kojo grunts behind your back, but you don’t turn around as you pull Tim’s drawer open. You reach for a pair of socks but stop when you see a small black box atop the neatly rolled socks. 

“Tim?” you ask softly, lifting the box. “What is this?”

You turn as you speak, not expecting to see Tim smiling up at you on one knee. He nods toward the box, and you inhale shakily as you open it. The ring inside is perfect. Pressure builds in your eyes as you run your finger over it. 

“I love you,” Tim begins. “And I don’t want to live another day without you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Every moment at your side is like a breath of fresh air.” He smiles, taking the ring box. With the ring in his fingers, he tosses the velvet box aside. “I love you with every part of me. Will you marry me?”

You don’t answer, but Tim’s smile grows as you sink to your knees before him and wrap your arms around his shoulders. He removes your left arm from his neck, lowering it gently before he cups your chin in his hand and kisses you. 

“I love you,” you reply. “You are all of my tomorrows. You make every day feel like the beginning.”

“Is that a yes?” Tim asks. 

“It’s a yes. It will be a yes every day for the rest of our lives.”

Tim slides the ring carefully onto your finger before he kisses you again. Kojo whines from the bed, and Tim chuckles against your lips before he lifts you into his arms as he stands. On the bed, you pull back and press your forehead against Tim’s. 

“Wait, that’s why you mentioned your sock drawer?!” you exclaim. 

“I thought you took away my chance to propose,” Tim defends. “It slipped out.”

“You… I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Kojo pushes his head between your stomach and Tim to rest in your lap. You pet him, looking down at your engagement ring as Tim moves to your side. 

“You know how to plan a proposal, Mr. Bradford,” you applaud. 

“I try. You made it pretty easy.”

“So you mean my reckless behavior didn’t interfere?” you tease. 

“Which one of us jumped off a roof today?”

“Street jumped first.” Tim rolls his eyes, and you seize the opportunity to mess with him. “Did you ask Deacon for his blessing?”

Tim’s eyes widen comically. “Should I have? I mean, I know you’re close, but-“

“No,” you interrupt with a laugh. “It was perfect. You’re perfect.”

“And we’ll be perfect tomorrow,” Tim adds. “Maybe this can be the first day to live. The first day or forever.”

“Tim!” you exclaim, moving carefully to hold his face. “You said something romantic!”

“Don’t get used to it,” he grumbles, softening under your affection. 

“You’re going to be my husband, that means I get what I want. I stop being reckless and you start being like this all the time. Deal?”

Tim kisses you rather than shaking your offered hand. As it grows later, you look forward to a new day, a new beginning, and forever at Tim’s side. 

[snoopysilk]

hii 🫶🫶 i wanted to offer the scenario with mordern!Mizu when she and reader (wlw/gn) are friends, hopelessly in love, but too stubborn to notice it and how the bubble of denial would finaly break 🥰 dunno, i think it might be funny, especially with random people around mistaking them for couple while at the mall or something phaha

🏷️: best friends to lovers, queerplatonic friendship vibes, modern!au, loser!mizu, slow burn if you squint, weed usage, mizu gets her first kiss, sesbian lex is implied, t*igen mentioned sorry

🐾:ty for the ask my love!! i am always so excited to write mizu omg… as someone who was in a queer platonic friendship all throughout high school i relate so heavy to this scenario.. 🤭

you and mizu have been friends for years. since she’d moved into the house opposite yours, and you’d complimented her high tops and she’d just pushed you to avoid having to say thank you. you immediately asked her to be best friends.

over the years you’d become quite literally inseparable. you’d been ecstatic when you both got put in almost all of the same classes for high school, and you were at each other’s houses so often that it became normal to just walk in randomly, even when the other wasn’t home.

you had your group of friends, of course, but it was undeniable that the two of you were simply on another level of friendship. nobody seemed to understand you like mizu did, and vice versa.

throughout life you got closer— and even came out to each other at the exact same time, in mizu’s car after sharing a joint. she’d turned to you and said “hey, i have something to tell you,” and you’d repeated it, and at the same time you’d both very awkwardly come out to each other, and collapsed into a fit of giggles after.

your friends began to question the two of you in college, when you moved in together because both of you had insisted that totally random roommates would be weird. when you went everywhere together, when you argued like married people while decorating the apartment.

although you and mizu had separate rooms, every time your friend group stayed over after drinking, she’d let akemi and taigen take her bed, ringo would take the couch, and she’d sleep with you. nobody even had to convince her because she offered, and you were just as eager. it wasn’t weird to you two, you’d been sharing beds since childhood. but admittedly, when akemi found the two of you sleeping quite literally on top of each other—mizu’s hand on your waist and yours on hers—the next morning and told you it’s not friendship behaviour, you did start thinking.

any time you two went out together people stared. sure, you were odd looking people, but you lived in a part of the city practically infested with other queer people, so the stares probably weren’t judgemental… probably.

you and mizu had a tendency to go on dates without realising. you’d go to the aquarium so mizu could take pictures for an art project, or you’d go get coffee just for fun, you’d go just the two of you on fancy dinners when your friends cancelled, and you’d go grocery shopping together like an old married couple.

what made the both of you realise that maybe this behaviour wasn’t just friendship was when you were talking to a couple you’d met at the mall and one of them had asked you, “so where did you two meet? you seem so romantic!” and mizu had quite literally done a double take and immediately jumped to deny the claim.

that same night you were laid on the couch together, you on one end and mizu on the other with your legs criss crossed, when she’d turned to you and said, without missing a beat, “so, like.. what are we?” and it had led to a long and complicated conversation.

well, not really. you’d sort of just looked at her and said, “what do you think we are?” to which she’d just snorted. “i actually don’t know,” she confessed. “people seem to think we’re dating.”

“do you want to?” you’d replied, a little too quick for your liking. “well.. we basically already are.” and you’d both laughed and just accepted that maybe you were already dating, you just hadn’t realised it.

that same night, you’d given mizu her first actual kiss— and a whole lot more than that.

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

Stuck In My Ways

BuckTommyWhumpWeek, Day 2: Abandonment Issues (AO3 version)

The suitcase sat in the hallway, next to the coat hook and the shoe rack.

At first, Buck hadn't noticed it, or maybe he’d thought it was some kind of decoration. Tommy had an astonishing amount of decorative clutter in his house –  a plethora of fairy lights, modern paintings, flower pots. Eddie's house had always looked like it had been imported straight from a furniture store: every piece of knick-knack was faceless, every picture meaningless except for Chris's drawings on the refrigerator, standing out from all the uniformity like little points of light. With Tommy, it was different. The man—a 40-year-old with Star Wars collectibles and curtains that matched his furniture—placed a lot of importance on making his house a home. 

It seemed all the more surprising to Buck that he had decided to share it with him. Eddie hadn't actually given him an ultimatum when he announced he was returning to L.A., breaking camp in Texas and becoming a firefighter again, to provide stability for Chris. No, he’d said Buck could stay, at least until he found something new. But somehow it was clear that Eddie's idea of stability didn't include Buck, so he left. You can store anything, except feelings.

Tommy hadn't hesitated, hadn't asked any questions. Tommy had said, “I’ve a guest room,” only to add that he used it as a storage room but could certainly squeeze a bed in there. Buck could have stayed with Maddie, maybe even with Hen and Karen. But all those options were pretty much off the table. Tommy, on the other hand, was single and lived alone. And Buck told himself that maybe this was a way of testing the waters. A check for interest, so to speak. Maybe there was still something in the air, the possibility of more than just a cot in the guest room. Above all, though, and initially, a little more proximity. A long overdue conversation.

But there was this suitcase.

It wasn't Buck's; he had moved in with a duffle bag full of odds and ends. So it was Tommy’s, a sturdy carry-on trolley, right next to the door. 

“You going on a trip?” Buck had asked, unsure if the offer had been mere politeness after all. Or, and that, somehow, seemed even worse, whether Tommy only wanted him for house-sitting because he was going away. Buck wasn't sure he could handle that again. Of course, it would have been different this time than with Eddie, but then again, it wouldn't: in the end, this new beginning might have been nothing but smoke and mirrors. A place, but not a home; a space with no one in it who meant anything to him.

Tommy wasn’t going on a trip, but he also didn't mention the suitcase again. It still remained in the hallway, like a forgotten piece of a former lover. But who forgot a suitcase? 

Buck couldn't get it out of his head. He tried to be a good guest, a friend who took up little space and never got in the way: tiptoeing into the bathroom, no cluttering, just politeness and quiet coexistence. Sometimes, when he found the time, he’d cook dinner and leave a portion in the fridge for Tommy. One night, they sat on Tommy's extremely spacious and comfortable couch and watched a movie together, their fingertips so close that Buck couldn't think of anything else but how it would only take a small motion. But it didn't happen.

Buck wondered if he should make the first move. Not to repeat the one night at Eddie's house that had felt real and right, no. Rather to ask the many questions that were floating around in his head like dust particles settling on the floor. 

One of them concerned the suitcase. A seemingly innocent object, but why was it there, and what did it mean? For a while, Buck believed there could only be two possibilities. A subtle hint that he was just a guest in Tommy's house. Maybe, he thought, the suitcase wasn't always there, but now it was a kind of warning and reminder that he shouldn't overstay his welcome. The thought was ridiculous and not at all like Tommy. The other possibility... well, the idea gnawed at Buck's brain. What if it was Tommy's escape suitcase? His getaway luggage, waiting by the door so he could always leave without looking back. That thought also seemed absurd at first, because this was Tommy's house; if Buck got on his nerves, he could just kick him out. But would he? And did Buck's presence ever annoy him? 

Eddie's words kept creeping into his head, “You make everything about you!” Of course, his first impulse had been to say that wasn't true. That it was never really about him: Howie's guilt should have been Buck's, Eddie's fear of failure was reflected in him, and Hen's doubts about whether she was right for the captain's job felt familiar. And yet he had put all that aside because it was more important to take away their guilt, their fear, and everyone’s doubts.

Because if he didn't, Buck was convinced he would betray Bobby's memory and lose the people who were important to him. But the cracks were already there, spreading like fissures in an old house that would sooner or later lose its footing. Everyone who had ever been important to him had left Buck. Leaving didn't always mean walking away, like Eddie, who seemed to find it so easy to cut him out of his life. Some people distanced themselves in different ways, walking away inwardly, like his parents. 

Tommy had left with a bang, just when Buck thought he’d learned how to open up. How to let someone into his life even though he was afraid of being abandoned. But Tommy had returned. What if that suitcase in the hallway meant that Tommy was afraid, too? Not just of having his heart broken, but of the void left behind by everyone who left. 

One evening, after a long time, Buck baked again.

The house was filled with the tempting aroma of fresh pastry when Tommy returned from his shift. Entering the kitchen, he leaned against the doorframe, watching Buck for a long time before the latter even noticed. There was something in Tommy's gaze, something deep and calm that Buck had missed without realizing it.

“This smells good,” Tommy said. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry, I'll clean up in a minute–” 

“We can clean up together. Are you baking a cake?”

Buck's cheeks were flushed from the heat of the oven; he opened its door holding a kitchen towel, peered inside, and nodded. “Lemon bar cheesecake.”

“Really? Ain’t that incredibly complicated?”

Buck shrugged. “It takes two days, the lemon curd needs to cool, the dough has to rest...”

“Big ups,” Tommy said, appreciatively. “Didn't know you were such a great baker.”

“Because I never told you I started doing it so I wouldn't have to call you.”

Tommy hopped onto one of the bar stools in front of the kitchen island, resting his hands on the sides of the flour-dusted countertop.

“You... did what?”

“I baked,” Buck dryly returned. “That's why, without wanting to brag, I'm pretty good at it now. But yeah, this is still an ambitious project.”

“Why?”

The question hung in the room like the smell of lemons, and it was just as ambiguous, sweet and sour at the same time. Buck stood behind the counter and stared at Tommy's hands clutching the countertop as if he were literally looking for something to hold on to. He thought about the suitcase in the hallway. Was there an answer that wouldn't scare Tommy away?

“The cake was supposed to be a surprise,” he explained. Embarrassed, he ran his fingers through his hair, leaving a fine trail of flour behind. “I thought when you get home from your shift tomorrow, we could have it together.”

“No ketosis?” Tommy quipped, and Buck rolled his eyes. “Sorry. Sure, we can have cake tomorrow, Evan. I'd love to. I'm sure it's great, like everything you prepare. You shouldn't have gone to all that trouble, though. I mean, two days for a cake? Wow.”

“It's kind of symbolic,” Buck said. “Because some things just take time.”

“I have a feeling it's not just about the cake.”

Buck took a deep breath. “No,” he replied. “It's about the suitcase.”

Tommy blinked, clearly confused. 

“The suitcase.”

The kitchen counter seemed like a wall to Buck, standing between them literally and figuratively. He circled it and dropped onto the stool next to Tommy. Those blue eyes were distracting; they always had been. But now he needed to get it out, all of it.

“Did your parents ever lose you in a mall? You know, when they make those announcements. Well, mine might not even have noticed if Maddie hadn't been looking after me most of the time anyway. You spend your whole life longing to be noticed by them, but if they don't even see you when you're standing right next to them, how are they supposed to notice you're gone?”

He took a deep breath. There was nothing but compassion in Tommy's gaze, but perhaps also more. Perhaps there was a deeper understanding, the knowledge of someone who could relate to that feeling. Someone who saw beyond the story and knew what Buck really meant. It wasn't about the mall; as far as he was concerned, that was just the tip of the iceberg his parents had been living on.

“As a child, you come to terms with things,” he continued. “You think you're better off without them, that you'll be fine. And for a while, that's true.”

“But eventually, you fall in love. Then...” Tommy interjected. He looked as if he would rather have bitten his tongue than actually say it; his forehead wrinkled, he looked downright worried. 

“Then,” Buck said, nodding, “it gets difficult. I always gave everything I had, just to be liked. I've done everything to avoid being abandoned, either physically or emotionally. And it's never been enough, Tommy. You need a hundred hours of therapy to understand that it's not your fault, but it still happens over and over again. And you understand that leaving is easier than staying, because staying means work and commitment.“

”Evan..."

“There was a bottle of champagne in the fridge at Eddie's house,” Buck cut him off. “You put it there that morning. You wanted a fresh start.”

“And then I screwed it up.” Tommy's fingers were now tracing patterns in the flour on the kitchen island. 

They were just circles, doodles, but they could have been hearts. This was the man who said Love, Actually was his favorite movie, and this was a situation that could have come straight out of a rom-com. All the ingredients were there: misunderstandings, trials and tribulations, and above all, feelings. Those had always been there.

“You didn't,” Buck said, unaware of how wistful he sounded. “Sure, your talk about Eddie was nonsense. But at least you’d already told me that you can be pretty jealous. And then it clicked.” He snapped his fingers, emphasizing his words.  “I never thought anyone would be jealous about me. That anyone would ever want me that much.”

“Well, I guess we’ve something in common,” Tommy returned with a crooked smile.

“Hmm,” Buck went. “A man with abandonment issues meets a guy who, out of fear of being abandoned, would rather leave first. It could work, if they would just talk.”

“Evan.” Hearing his name out of his mouth was still a revelation. Buck had been Buck for so long that he hadn't even noticed that the shortened version made him seem smaller than he was. “What are you trying to say?”

Buck looked him straight in the eye. “The suitcase,” he said.

Tommy exhaled sharply. “I'm not following. What about the suitcase?”

“W-what does it mean? Why is it there? I can't get it out of my head, Tommy. I don't want to lose you again. I don't want to do anything wrong, but I can't guarantee it. Things probably won't go smoothly. But I don't want to be afraid that you'll leave, you understand?”

Tommy blinked. He opened his mouth and gasped for air like a fish out of water. 

“You think the suitcase is there so I can get out of here as fast as possible? Ouch, Evan.”

Then he laughed. It was the liberating laugh of a man who had a weight lifted from his heart. Buck's smile was uncertain as he cocked his head, asking, “No?”

“No.”

Tommy placed his hands over Buck's, ten warm fingers squeezing his, confidently. 

“What did you say? The guy who's so afraid of being abandoned that he'd rather leave first? Well, that's probably true. Maybe you should recommend your therapist to me. Or we could just work on it together, what do you think? I don't want to leave. Am I still afraid? Probably. I think you feel the same way. You have to be afraid, don't you? It ensures survival. Believe it or not, but when I get in the cockpit, my stomach drops, every single time. And then I'm up there, and I remember why I do it.”

“You have to overcome your fear.”

“Exactly,“ said Tommy. “You and me, together. If you want to.”

Buck's shoulders eased; he hadn't even noticed that he had tensed them. His whole body, actually. “You bet. I—”

A shrill noise interrupted him. There was a small robot on the counter next to the stove, a kitchen timer in the shape of R2D2. Indeed, Tommy loved his gadgets. 

“Uh–I have to get the cake out of the oven,” Buck said. “Then it has to cool, and I have to prepare the sugared lemon slices, and–”

“Evan. The suitcase?”

“The suitcase,” Buck repeated, his gaze fixed on Tommy's lips. It was an evening full of possibilities. 

Tommy sighed. “I stopped telling that story at some point, or rather parts of it,” he said. “It doesn't pay to make yourself vulnerable. Especially not in the kind of environment I used to work in.”

He took another deep breath, looking up. But it wasn't the ceiling he was looking at; his gaze was clearly fixed on the past. Buck thought there were so many stories left to tell, and so many things they had in common, and he wanted to hear them all. Even if it hurt. 

“In the late '90s, when I was in the Army, I was in Australia for Pitch Black, an international air force maneuver. The snakes and spiders in that country, boy, they'll freak you out. But the nature... makes you think that it's fighting to drive people away, and maybe it's right. Anyway, one night, there was an earthquake. It was bad, really, even the base shook like a washing machine on spin cycle. The Italians lost one of their planes; it just slipped into a crevice, and no mechanic in the world could save the engine. But the people living in the area... they lost everything. Days later, you could still see them walking around in the ruins of their houses, clutching photographs as if they were more important than anything else in the rubble."

“That sounds terrible,” Buck said softly.

“It was. I couldn't sleep for nights on end. I kept imagining myself standing there left with nothing, practically just the clothes on my back, completely alone. But I just couldn't understand why it disturbed me so much, because I’d done everything I could to avoid getting attached to anyone. Superficial friendships, meaningless sex. No one I’d have to mourn if something bad happened.“

“But no one who’d have mourned you either.”

It was a terribly sad thought. Buck had always been afraid that no one would miss him, and Tommy had been afraid that they would. Because both hurt. Both broke your heart in different ways. He thought that maybe they were completely screwed up, but that maybe they were also the only ones who understood that. And if that was the case, it was possible to work on it. Together. 

“I thought it was selfish to want someone to mourn you,” Tommy added. “And that if you prepare yourself enough, you can always be ready to start over. Then, maybe, you'd never have to look back and wonder what you left behind.”

“That's why the suitcase.”

“That's why the suitcase,” Tommy said, nodding. “Crazy, huh?”

Buck said nothing. He leaned forward, pressed his lips to Tommy's, and put his answer there.

[thatnonameuser]

The Red King holds a Bleeding Head

A Wonderland of Yanderes - Masterlist Chapter 1. Heartslaybul Part 8.

Going down the rabbit hole that is your mirror a third time feels a little more normal. Even though traveling through it to begin with is the definition of crazy, you’ve started to get used to it. Just like the last two times you awaken to your bedroom, you feel smothered by that sensation of being forced under something heavy and lying on a fluff cloud. Your mirror ripples and gleams a bright white light that beckons you forward. 

You’re not exactly prepared for this, but you don’t have any time to. You throw off the odd feeling blankets and make your way to the mirror, which is sparkling in its usual white light. 

You take a deep dream breath to steady your nerves. You want this trip through the looking glass to be different this time. Instead of you stumbling through the mirror world completely blind, you need to go through determined to find answers. 

You’re smart enough to recognise the pattern. Whatever happens there seems to happen in your dreams, to some effect, have happened in real life. The painted roses, the cards soldiers, and Ace and Deuce, being beheaded by the Queen for breaking the rules. There’s a pattern and if it keeps up tonight, then tomorrow during the duel something is going to happen that will be similar to your dreams. 

Plus, there’s also the King of Hearts. He and Alice were the only ones who could see you so far, and Winston was the darling of the Queen. There had to be something that he knew that could help you. And if your dreams were really sending you back in time to meet them, then he had to know something that can help you. Even if it was a tiny detail, you needed to know.

Plus. If your deduction was correct, then Crowley had done jack all since you arrived to send you back home, then maybe you could find something out from someone like you. A darling that’s terrified. If it’ll lead back home, it's worth a shot, right?

Now invigorated with courage, you place your hand on the glass, and it ripples. And you’re pulled into wonderland.

You’re somewhere unfamiliar. As in it doesn’t look like the rose maze anymore. In fact, this place looks very different. 

The rose garden is beautiful, the hallway you’re in now is ominous. Even with the gaudy red hearts. The black, white and red are smothering here. The hallways narrow, but ornate. It’s covered with heart-covered and heart-shaped vases, picture frames, and statues. The hallway’s lit up by heart shaped lamps that glow gray, meant to give off light but feel the room feel so dark. The manic and exaggerated shapes and the monotony of the overwhelming crimson red makes you feel a little tremble. 

You take hesitant steps down the hall, scanning them for anything helpful or clues. 

“This is…new.” And so far what’s new makes you feel chills. “What is the mirror trying to show me n-”

A deafening roar of <Off With Their HEADS!!!> echoes through the halls and interrupts your thoughts and makes you jump in surprise. The roar makes the decor shake and rattle, some fall and shatter. 

You gulp nervously and your heart speeds up. This doesn’t feel right.

Another roar fills the air <SILENCE!!> makes you hasten your footsteps. Whatever’s happening you're missing it, and you need all the help you can get right now. 

You run down the hall to nowhere, finding no doorways, until the hall ends. It’s a single door, knee high and heart shaped. 

“How the hell am I supposed to-” Another roar fills the hall and breaks a nearby lamp. “Alright, I’m going!” You shove it open and crawl through, and it shrinks around you just to make things worse, After a mild struggle, you finally get through, something better be on the other side-

Something grabs you by the back of your pajamas, and you hauled up to be faced with the King of Hearts. 

And he looks angry. <What are you doing here?!> He whisper-yells, shaking you by your shoulders. 

“I-I-” 

You don’t get to put a word in, and shit must’ve hit the fan hard when you were gone because Winston starts ranting. <What are you, the Cheshire Cat!? You were there one moment and gone the next! I’m stressed out of my mind trying to keep a girl alive and you just keep popping up to make things even more stressful!!!> He pauses for a moment, to recollect himself, <H-How did you even get here?!>

“I used the door-” You turn and point to find no door or wall and instead find a sharp decline into a certain death behind the haphazard judge’s bench. “Nevermind” You quickly finish as you take a nervous step back from the ledge. 

<Well,  it doesn’t matter you have to->

<Winston, sweetheart, who are you speaking too?> The voice that pipes up is mockingly fond. As if they’re entertaining a child speaking to an imaginary friend. You look past Winston, to see a stout woman that looks suspiciously like the Queen of Hearts.

No seriously, her mocking, smiling face looks so punchable, that it reminds you of Riddle. A heart shaped with high cheekbones, and a glare that rivals Riddle Rosehearts, her black hair is tied up into a rose shape, slick backed, smooth and orderly. Her dress is extravagant even in the field of black and white, red undertones over taking the dress. Her crown is larger than Winston's, cementing to you that she is in charge and he’s unwillingly along for the ride.

She looks like a real person this time. Are your dreams progressing? Becoming more detailed?

Winston looks at her incredulously, you can hear him mutter, <C-Can’t you see her?...> Pointing in your direction confused. 

<There’s no one there, Winston. Are you imaging things again?> The King of Hearts spares you a conflicted look, before finally agreeing with her.

<I must be…..> He says after a few long moments.

<Of course sweetheart. How could you survive without me?> She chuckles to herself, and you feel the urge to punch someone again. 

A soft voice snaps you out of it. <Um…Your Majesty?> You finally notice Alice from her place down below. She looks a mix of exasperated, confused and terrified as she stands in the defendant’s chair. The Queen redirects her ire back to Alice as soon as she raises her voice. She screams like a banshee and roars like a violent loud animal. 

You take advantage of the noise to speak to Winston. “Winston I-”

He interrupts you, losing himself to his ramblings, <I’ve finally lost, haven’t I?> Winston laughs bitterly. <You’re not real, you’re just a figment of my imagination…>

“No. You haven’t and I’m not.” You push, desperate to make him see reason, “Alice has seen me before, I’m real!” You hurriedly whisper-yell. 

<Then if you’re real then you have to help Alice and you have to help me->

<HAPPY UNBIRTHDAY TO YOU!> A cake and teapots, and all the fixing that remind you of the buffet yesterday at Heartslabyul. The Queen and nearly everyone in the room are excitedly celebrating while Winston and Alice look exasperated. Seemingly exhausted from the shenanigans that are ensuing before you.

“W-What’s happening?” You raise an eyebrow in complete confusion. Yesterday an unbirthday party made sense because it was a party at a dorm then a trial room with a death sentence. 

Winston sighs in abject misery, <A trial.  I did it to save Alice from losing her head, but this nonsense is a trial. And I thought back home was crazy.>

You perk up at his words. Back home means that he’s not from wonderland so if that’s the case…Just to be sure, you ask. “You’re not from here?”

He looks at you curiously, still halfway between believing you’re real or not, <I-I’m from London, England. I came here by accident and have been stuck here ever since.>

“You know where London is?” You feel hope bloom in your chest, “Are you from Earth?”

<Yes, but->

You interrupt him in your budding excitement, “Then you have to help me! I’m stuck here, like you and Alice!”

<Regardless of whether you’re real or fake, I-I can’t help you! If Mary finds out, I tried to escape again, heads will roll! >

You haul the king up by his shirt. “Would you rather be stuck here forever?! If there’s a way out, we need to take it!” You can ignore the ‘being stuck here ever since’ part for now, because if he and Alice (who are real in this world) come from Earth and know about a way back, then that means there’s a way back to your world from Twisted Wonderland. Alice goes home at the end of the story, so there is a way back home for you in this world. And you need that way out. You just need to get to it. 

<I’ll help you on one condition.>

“Anything!”

<Help Alice. I can’t let another person die.> And then he shoves you. And then you're falling. You don’t even get the opportunity to scream as you’re pushed. Falling off that deathly edge, and hitting the floor hard. 

“Ow….” Damnit Winston, if you weren’t stuck in the same situation as him, you’d curse him out

<Miss, you’re back!> You slowly open your eyes to see Alice standing over you in worry, still completely black and white. <W-Where did you come from?>

“A place like you.” Alice lights up at your words,  “How’s your trial going?” only to deflate five seconds later. 

<It doesn’t make any sense, this trial doesn’t follow any rules.> You climb to your feet brushing off the imaginary dust off your dream self. 

“No, it does.” You’re forced to admit. “They’re just horrible rules.”

<Well, this really isn’t-> Whatever justifiable statement is cut off by the Queen being undistracted by the unbirthday celebrations. 

You don’t even know what happened next. 

One moment, Alice is pointing out the Cheshire Cat, her words, on the Queen’s head, and the next the Queen is a mess of jam and her torn flag, with a new bump on her crazy head. And Alice is holding the mallet and jam when the Queen finally clears her eyes. 

Winston bangs his head on the judges bench in defeat, at the sight of the mayhem.

“OFFF with-” the Queen interrupts herself, as Alice hurriedly stuffs her face with two pieces of something you don’t recognise. Her eyes go wide for a moment, as  her muscles twitch and her body contorts in places. She then grows over a mile high. Because of how rapidly she grew, you end up on the giantess Alice’s shoulders. 

<Oh, are you alright?> Alice asks, concerned. You give her a thumbs up in reply as the nausea in your gut trembles, before giving way. Now calmed, knowing one of her few friends here are okay, Alice focuses her attention on the tyrant whose red face has gone pale. <And as for you, Your Majesty….’Your Majesty,’ indeed!> The mushroom that Alice ate causes her to grow as tall as the trial room ceiling is high. You cling to her shoulder with your nails, not wanting to fall from this height. What crack did you smoke last night to dream this? Anyway,  Alice takes her moment to finally tell off the pompous queen, with all the confidence that a seven year old can have. 

The queen shrinks back in surprise at the seven-year old’s new size, and Alice chooses this to be the time to finally tell off the tyrant. 

<Why, you’re not a queen. You’re just a fat, pompous, bad-tempered old ty…tyrant…> As if Alice couldn’t get any more unlucky, the mushroom’s magic wears off as she starts to lay down the facts. Her confidence dies as she shrinks back to size.  You tumble off of Alice’s shoulder as she shrinks smaller and smaller. And the longer she speaks, the more the Queen’s glare gets more and more murderous.

<Mmhmmhmmhmm….> You, even at this distance, can see the fear painting across the King’s face and worry on Alice’s. This isn’t good, and the longer the Queen holds that note the more grim those looks become. You embrace the shaking girl. You can hear her whimpers of ear the longer this draws out. <What were you saying, my dear?>

A cat pops onto the head of the Queen, reminding you of Chenya even with the black and white, who parrots the, now shaking, Alice’s words. <Well, she simply said that you’re a fat, pompous, bad tempered old tyrant!> The cat cackles, as the Queen’s face turns red, contrasting the black and white.

<OOOOOOFFF with her head!!!>

You watch as the card soldiers jump from their seats to descend on the two of you as Alice clings to you for dear life, as the card shoulders dive to deliver her to her death sentence. 

But before the avalanche of card soldiers obscure everything from view, you can hear the King of Hearts beg his wife and captor to spare the poor girl. <Darling she’s just a child!>

And then the world blurs.

You’re back in your bed. Alice isn’t in your arms anymore, instead it’s Grim.

Why won’t anyone stop the queen? Someone could have stopped her.

AND THEN YOU COULD’VE GOTTEN YOUR EXIT!! FUCK!

Great. Winston had promised to help you if you helped Alice. And now you can’t go back till you go to bed! And that’s if Alice hasn’t gone home or lost her head yet! YAY!

You groan before sitting up, not expecting the violent pain in your neck. You then hiss in pain, just barely managing to massage the flesh locked under the collar. 

What a great way to start the morning. 

But there was some good news. The tyrant queen will get called out for her tyranny. That’s something to look forward to at the duel today. Still doesn’t make you feel any better though. 

“Ugh, Great.” You rub the exhaustion out of your eyes, to be face to face with Grim. 

“Hey, ____! Ah, good, you’re already up!” 

“Didn’t exactly have the best sleep.” Maybe you should tell grim about your dreams, just in case. But that’s a later thing, “Ready to get these collars off?” 

“Yeah!”

Back at the tyrant’s castle, er, Heartslabyul, the residents have all gathered in the magical battlegrounds within the rose garden. Why someone built a magical battlefield in the middle of a flammable rose maze must have been a tyrant themselves, because why someone didn’t bring up the flammable part at some point during the dorm’s construction was a question you’re not stupid enough to come up with an answer to.

Speaking of tyrants, Riddle must have gone on a power trip stoked by his tantrum yesterday. Because the number of students wearing collars, minus or plus Ace and Deuce pick one, has to have doubled in one night. Seriously, a good quarter of the audience has to be wearing collars. 

And because of said collars, this duel is going to go south real fast. Because Riddle’s already fucking cheating with his signature spell. Seriously, magic nullification should not be allowed in duels like this but for some reason it is.

But back to the duel of the century, for just Heartslabyul. The dorm residents have been gossiping since your group’s arrival….

“Did you hear? They say someone’s challenged Dorm Leader Rosehearts to a duel!”

“Riddle Rosehearts? Seriously?! Whoever it is has gotta be outta his mind. Riddle will have his head off in five seconds flat.”

…about how stupid this decision was. You mean, you agree, but they’re the ones living under a tyrant. Have a little positivity, everyone. 

Thankfully, there are few who have held onto the aforementioned positivity. 

“Still, it’s the first challenge since Rosehearts took power. I’m pumped!” In your opinion, the dorm should be like that guy. That guy has a little faith.

Also, Trey apparently didn’t warn Cater about the duel that was probably going viral on Heartslabyul’s Magicam, because he looks completely shocked as you told him about the shit preparing to hit the fan.  “You’re saying Ace and Deuce are challenging Riddle for the dorm leader’s seat?! Please tell me you’re kidding!”

You sigh, “I’m not, Cater. Wish I was.”

“We tried to stop ‘em.” Correction, Trey. YOU tried to stop them, he sat there and did nothing like with Riddle. Seriously, the bystander effect is strong with Trey; it's like he’s afraid of saying something when he needs to. Did Riddle’s mom traumatize him too!?

Cater looks positively miserable at the revelation. “Of all the stupid ideas…I just hope this doesn’t make everything worse.”

“You and me both.” Trey agrees, but now you're both curious and concerned. Just how much worse is worse?

Crowley’s clearing of his throat silences the crowd’s chatter. Kinda concerning that he's more focused on two students dueling a dorm leader than the rampant abuse of power that’s going on in this dorm, but whatever it’s not like negligence is a crime or something. Though it probably isn’t given your experience so far. 

“We are about to commence two challenges for the dorm leader position at Heartslabyul House.” He announces as grandiose as possible. “The first challenger is Ace Trappola, the second challenger is Deuce Spade. The current housewarden they have challenged is Riddle Rosehearts.”

“Now, in accordance with the duel rules, please remove the magic-sealing collars as they would provide an unfair disadvantage.” Oh, you were waiting for that.

Riddle snaps his fingers and the collars dissolve away into sparks, leaving behind red marks around Ace and Deuce’s necks. Given Ace has been stuck in that thing for two nights you can’t imagine the relief he must feel. “Ah! FINALLY, the dumb collar is off!”

Yours and Grim’s are still on though. Oh, did he just forget that you and Grim were collateral damage to yesterday’s rampage? You can feel your rage rising. 

“Enjoy your moment of freedom. The collar will be back on soon enough.” Riddle’s cocky smirk looks so punchable, and you feel an itch in your fingers. Still cockiness might be his downfall. 

But before that…..

“Hey, Rosehearts!” You call out, “ Just to point something out,” You say as sarcastically and humorlessly as possible, “could you please remove mine and Grim’s. We’re not even in your dorm!” Riddle sighs, as if you’ve been bugging him about this for hours, before finally unlocking the literal weight around your and Grim’s necks. And you breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” The ‘Asshole’ part goes unsaid, for fear of making this worse.

Now, that the cone of shame on your neck is gone you can let them return back to the pre-duel banter. “Carry on.” You say with a dismissive wave of your hand.

Riddle hmphs, returning his focus back to his two challengers. “I could hardly believe it when I heard you two intended to duel me. Is this a joke?”

There’s a “Do I look like I’m joking?” from Ace and a “I’d never propose a duel as a joke!” from Deuce. They’re not backing down now. 

“Hmph. Have it your way. Let us get this over with.” Indeed, let’s get this over with, because you might have a room to clear out when this eventually fizzles out. That doesn’t mean you won’t cheer for Ace and Deuce, Bravery is still something to praise even if it’s on par with stupidity.

But like before, Cater intervenes when he really shouldn’t, “Uh, Riddle, what do you want to do about today's afternoon tea?”

“A foolish question. You know that the rules stipulate I take my tea everyday at 4 PM sharp.” Oh, so he’s cocky that he can finish this in, what, thirty minutes. 

“It’s just that it’s already past 3:30….”

“And you fear that I will be late? All the more reason to end this promptly.” So he’s very cocky. You can only hope it will be his downfall. 

“It appears I have little time to waste. Rather than facing my opponents in succession, I will take on both at once.” Oh. Wow, he’s…..he’s arrogant if he thinks that. Well, Ace and Deuce are probably screwed. 

The cheers of the dorm residents fill the air as stiff and empty as they were yesterday. 

“You can do it, Dorm Leader!”

“Knock ‘em dead, sir!”

You can see Trey shake his head to your  right, so he still hasn’t said anything. Coward.

“Cowards,” you hear Deuce say, and you agree, because you’re looking right at one. To say that you don’t want to hurt his feelings after a hard time, when you’re letting him force that hard time onto others is the definition of cowardice.

“Myah, I got a bad feelin’ about this.” You squeeze Grim tighter. 

“I do too, Grim.” 

“Hey, at least we got a plan!” A plan that already hangs on by a thread, Ace but you’ll accept his confidence. 

“Headmaster, please give us the signal.” Riddle’s already sure of his victory even before it starts, and he might be right, but a part of you wants him to suffer, just a little.

“When the mirror, I’ve thrown shatters upon the ground, that is your signal to begin. Ready…Go!” 

“You guys can do it!” You offer them some encouragement, but….

“OFF WITH YOUR HEADS!” You saw the way this battle ends from miles away.

If you're being generous, you’ll call that another deja vu moment. This insanity of constant ‘beheadings’ is starting to become grating. But, you hope the ending of the calling out part comes sooner rather than later. 

“That was…..fast.” You say glumly, it’s sad that they failed so quickly but at least they tried. It had to be, what, 5 seconds into the duel before the collars locked on and it was over. Saddening, upsetting but expected. 

Well, now what?

“Visualization is key to spell casting.” Crowley starts an unhelpful speech about magic. It’s not really helpful in this situation, because if Riddle has his way from now on Ace and Deuce are going to be wearing those collars till Riddle graduates. “The better you are at accurately visualizing your magic’s effect, the stronger and more precise it will be.”

“They lost in less than ten seconds, you’re not helping Crowley.” You point out the explicitly obvious, because it doesn’t fucking matter about how visualisation is important when a. They lost before they cast a single spell, and b. They can’t even use their magic to practice now. “Still, it would appear Mr.Rosehearts has finely honed his magic.” Ouch, salt in the wound. Stroke the tyrant’s ego even more too. Crowley’s just batting zero right now. 

“Myah…They didn’t stand a chance.” Grim bemoans at the loss. 

You sigh, “Well at least they tried….” it wasn’t really an attempt even but at the very least. You force a smile on your face as you approach your two friends, “You guys did your best, or were going to your best..” You add unhelpfully, before giving them each a gentle smile. . You might have to just let them stay it seems.

Ace opens his mouth to reply but someone else does to add their unhelpful commentary. “Hardly. They didn’t even last five seconds.” You can hear Ace and Deuce growl as you turn to face the cocky tyrant. 

 That cocky, self-righteous brat keeps adding his unwanted opinion. “That was all you had, and still you thought to challenge me? You must be utterly humiliated.”

You glare at him, “You won already. Stop rubbing it in.”

Riddle’s too high on his high horse to seem to be aware of what happens below. “I guess my mother was right. A man who cannot follow rules is a man who cannot achieve anything.” You’re going to put a knife between that woman’s eyes if you ever meet up. Mommy undearest’s parenting has screwed him up so much that he’s doing the same thing to the people he lives with.

If Ace or Deuce actually won this battle he probably would have been run out of the dorm.

“Tch…We agree that rules should be followed. But forcing others to follow nonsensical rules like the ones you’ve enacted is tyranny!” 

“Then you agree that breaking the rules is wrong. And in this dorm, I AM the rules.” Is…is he serious? Did he miss the second part of Deuce’s sentence? “Therefore, those who cannot abide by my decisions deserve not the heads they use to complain!”

You had enough of this.

You’ve bit your tongue bloody, thanks to this brat’s tyranny.  You've been inconvenienced again and again because of his pretentious and frankly ridiculous rules.

 Screw manners, screw survival, and screw this red-haired little absolutist pain the ass! “But that’s not right! You can’t just use the rules to do whatever you please!” You yell in fury. 

“I am the one who decides what is wrong and right-”

You cut him off. “And you’re also a pain in the neck and the ass, that pretends he’s the perfect student that can do no wrong, because mommy said so!” His eyes widen in shock as you finally, finally go off the leash you tethered to yourself this entire time. And you’re not done. “How can you be so blinded by your own delusions that you can’t even see how unreasonable it is to follow, frankly, the most STUPID of rules!?!” You can feel your cheeks warming and the blood in your ears roaring in boiling hot fury. You can feel someone try to calm your rage with a hand, Deuce’s, on your shoulder. You’re pissed and tired and angry and what does he do?

He continues talking like you didn’t say anything. “If there were no penalties, no one would follow the rules.” You;re going to punch him. 

“You!-” What he says next cuts your thoughts and words off completely.

“What sort of pitiful education have you received, that you cannot follow such simple rules? Clearly, you were born to parents with no great magical capability. As a result…you lack even the basic education necessary to attend a school such as this. It’s quite sad.”

You blink, taken aback. The rage in you is stunned into pacification. 

He did not. 

He did not just say that about you.

“You-” You can’t even string your thoughts together completely stunned. You can forgive someone being unreasonableYou feel something different from rage, something stronger, boiling inside you. 

“You little…” Deuce releases you, prepared to pummel the tyrant into the ground but…..

“You shut your spoiled little mouth!” Ace dashes forward fist raised and-

He punches Riddle clean across the face. 

Hard enough to knock Riddle off his feet. Ace quite literally beat Deuce to the punch. 

So many voices speak up in shock and surprise at Riddle, the untouchable dorm leader, finally eating his just desserts. Right in the face too.

You don’t say anything, staring at what’s about to unfold, with a blank expression.

“That’s all I can take. Forget Riddle. Forget the duel. I’m done.” Just like Alice in your dreams last night, calls out the now stunned red sovereign.

“That hurt! You…p-punched me?!” Riddle’s genuinely stunned. Is stunned by his house of cards finally starting to collapse around him? You can’t bring yourself to care. 

Ace spits some facts. 

“Kids aren’t trophies for their parents to flaunt. And the accomplishments of a child aren’t determined by the worth of their parents. It’s  not your parents’ fault you became a tyrant -or anyone else’s. You’ve been here a year and haven’t even made a friend who will tell you you’re outta line. And that’s on you.”

“What are you even talking about?” 

“Yeah, maybe you had some rigid upbringing from a relentless helicopter-mom. Is that all you are? An extension of her? Can’t you think for yourself? You call yourself the ‘red sovereign’. You’re just a baby who’s good at magic.”

“Baby…? Did you just call me a ‘baby’?! You don’t know anything about me! You don’t know anything about anything!” But despite the honest truths that Ace is trying to make the pretentious tyrant hear for what has to be the first time in his life, Riddle refuses to listen.

“Nope, sure don’t. And I don’t need to. Your attitude tells me all I need to know- that you’re nothing but a spoiled brat!” Ace doesn’t let up on the lecture Riddle probably needed to hear last year. 

Riddle’s face is starting to turn pink from his blind anger. “Shut up, shut up, shut UP! My mother was right! And that means I’m right too!” Riddle practically roars in anger. He’s shaking from barely repressed rage. 

Trey steps between them to prevent what has to be a near disaster, trying to pacify the screaming tyrant. “Riddle, calm down. The duel is already over.”

“Mr. Clover is correct.” Crowley  The challenger has been disqualified due to physical violence. If you do not cease your conflict now, I’ll have you written up for breaking school rules!” But even with the threat of breaking his own personal rules and being a rule breaker himself doesn’t soothe his rage. It doesn’t matter here anyway, because as long as no one is willing to stand up to-

“Ace is right, though! I’ve had enough of Riddle!” A voice in the crowd shouts, and he throws something small aimed directly at Riddle’s head.

An egg cracks in Riddle’s hair. Egg goop trails down his face. You fight back a laugh with all your willpower. Well, color you impressed. The card soldiers aren't completely useless, brain dead drones. 

For half a second everyone is frozen solid. And then the egg practically cooks on Riddle’s face as he searches for the offender, completely infuriated. “Who did that? Who threw that egg?!”

And this time, the silence feels both suffocating and glorious. At least the cowards have finally stood up for themselves, at least a little. Unfortunately Riddle, instead of taking the obvious hint the egg to the face was, he laughs. And it’s not a composed one.

“Heh heh…Ah ha ha ha!”  It’s an insane one.

Riddle snaps at all of the now cowering dorm students“You say YOU’RE fed up?! I’M the one who’s fed up with all of YOU!” 

“No matter how strict I am, no matter how many heads I remove, you keep breaking the rules! All any of you care about is doing what YOU want to do! If the guilty party won’t come forward, then I’ll pass judgment on all of you!”

“Clearly, none of you value your heads! OFF WITH YOUR HEADS!!!” Like a tyrant gone wild, collars lock on to every single one of the residents' necks, save Trey and Cater, sealing off their magic.  You’re getting real tired of hearing that. 

The Heartslabyul residents scatter like headless, heh pun unintended but fitting, chickens. “Bwaaah! Let’s get out of here!” “Urrrgh!” 

Riddle, reassured that his tyranny will last,  shoves past Ace to rub in his ‘victory’ to Ace.“How do you like that, hm? Now no one can do a thing to me! Do you see now? My strict adherence to the rules was clearly the correct path!”

Crowley still does nothing to calm, or now that Riddle’s actually broken some rules, to punish Riddle for this insanity. “Cease this improper behavior now, Mr. Rosehearts. I expect better from you!”

“Crowley, could you maybe actually do something!?!” You finally point out the utter stupidity of him not doing anything while Riddle literally abuses his power. 

“Uh…Trey, if he keeps using his spell…This could get ugly, fast!” You barely hear Cater over the chaos.

Trey does, still trying to separate the fuming  Riddle away from Ace and a catastrophe. “Riddle, stop this!”

Ace might be perspective but he’s incapable of reading the room when shit really starts to go bad. “Wow, way to totally prove me wrong here, pal! I call you a baby and you immediately throw a temper tantrum!”

Riddle’s face goes deep crimson. “Retract your comment immediately, or I shall skewer you where you stand!” He yells. 

This might not be good.

Ace doesn’t let up “No way. I ain’t retraction’ squat.”

Face red, eyes full of rage and mania, Riddle’s reached the point of fury where words are impossible and yells of anger are the only sounds that can be made. “YEEEAAARGH!!!”

“Dude, this is bad! You’ve G-2-G, now!” You feel a hand on your wrist, Cater's, dragging you away from the rampaging tyrant.

And then you're blinded by the debris.The earth shakes for too long as the rose bushes are yanked out of the earth, the fragile yet heavy bushes floating high in the air. Ripped up from their earth , roots and all, and float in mid-air. The roses and their thorny brambles writhe under Riddle’s magic.

Debris and dirt float through the air, alongside the rose bushes. 

“W…Whoa…” You take a nervous step back, “Shit.” 

“The rose trees! They’re floating!”

“This is some serious magic!”

The roses and their brambles might not be the strongest weapon, but Riddle’s magical strength is powerful, as you watch the roses and branches become arrows, perfect for tearing flesh from bone and crushing the rest. 

“Mighty roses, tear this brute to pieces!” Riddle yells, completely blinded at his anger. The roses, thorns and all fly like arrows aimed directly at Ace. A deadly shot, if it lands.

“Ace! MOVE!” You dash forward, but a pair of arms are around your waist holding you back from the barrage of arrows aimed at your friend. You look around frantically and you see who’s stopping you from helping the first friend you made here. It’s Deuce. When did he get next to you? Nevermind. “Lemme go! Ace needs help!” 

Deuce shakes his head with a remorseful expression. “I can’t let you get hurt!”

Since you can’t get to Ace, “Crowley! DO something!” You yell at the Headmaster who’s done jack diddly since Riddle’s tantrum progressed into hemorrhage. All he’s done here is politely ask Riddle to stop, and Ace might actually die if Riddle keeps at this. 

“Cease and desist at once!” Crowley doesn’t do anything, but yells at him to stop, and Riddle’s already too angry to listen.

But it’s too late for any one to push Ace out of the way, 

“ACE!” You can’t even shut your eyes as the roses and brambles come down. You take back every thing you’ve ever said about Ace, and this world if it means you don’t witness him being killed….

…..By playing cards?

Instead of roses and their thorns tearing Ace to shreds….playing cards fall from the sky.

“Huh? I’m still alive?” Ace is as stunned as you and everyone else here. 

Deuce is probably as stunned as you, because his arms go limp, and you practically tackle Ace, “Are you okay!?” Your arms and legs are jelly from adrenaline, but you manage to stumble over and check him over with trembling hands. 

“Y-Yeah,”He answers and you sigh in clear relief.  What’s with all these playing cards?”

“All the rose trees turned into cards?” Deuce is right, All the roses and their brambles are gone. Instead it’s all playing cards. And nothing more. How did that even happen?!

Wait. Deja vu again, this keeps happening. Cards falling against an innocent. But there’s no time for that. 

Because Riddle’s face is murderous, and his grip on his magical staff is so tight it could have snapped in half. He raises it again, prepared to recast as “Why didn’t you-”

Deuce dives in between you and Ace, to act as human shield but Trey stops him, shielding you all from Riddle’s view. “Riddle, stop this right now!” Oh, so NOW Trey decides enough is enough, murder was the last straw. Wonderful. 

“Wait, is that Trey’s ‘Paint the Roses’?! But…how?!” You can hear a confused Cater, and thank goodness, because Trey saved Ace’s life. 

“All the magic sealin’ collars are gone!” Grim’s right, You didn’t even notice in the mayhem. Ace and Deuce, and probably all the Heartslabyul residents, all have their magic-sealing collars removed. 

“What did I tell you? My magic can overwrite characteristics for a short time. So I used it to make ‘Riddle’s magic’ into ‘my magic’.” Trey’s explanation lets you breathe a sigh of genuine relief. At least now, Riddle is defenseless.

“You can do that? That’s some kinda loophole!” And a lucky loophole to test on someone about to die.

Meanwhile in Crazy town, Riddle’s discovered his magic’s no longer his own. “N-no…Off with their heads! I SAID, off with their heads!” Every attempt Riddle makes to cut off everyone’s magic just causes more and more playing cards to fly out. But depending on how short the time Trey’s magic can work, that might not be for long. Especially with how many times Riddle tries recasting. 

Trey finally puts his foot down. “Riddle, stop. Can’t you see how you look right now?”

You can’t believe that this is what it took to finally open the eyes of the residents. Ace nearly being murdered because Riddle’s ego got bruised. At least now, their eyes have been opened to the true extent of Riddle’s cruelty. 

Which they decide to vocalize in the presence of the tyrant with the bruised ego. They’re not very smart. are they? 

“He…he was really gonna do it!” “He is completely out of control.” “He’s like some kinda monster!”

Thankfully, and unfortunately, Riddle isn’t focused on that. Instead, he’s more concerned with the fact that his magic isn’t his anymore. And Trey is the reason. “What? Was my magic overwritten by yours? Does that mean your signature spell is stronger than mine?!” He demands, turning on the only one who ever really defended him in his madness. 

“Of course it doesn’t. Riddle, take a deep breath and listen to us.” Trey tries to reason, but it’s too late for Riddle to be reasonable, with him already lost in the throes of his anger.

You start to feel a chill up your spine, like back in the mines with that monster. But why are you-

Still completely unreasonable, Riddle’s still deaf to Trey's words, “Are YOU going to tell me that I’m wrong too? After all I’ve done to protect the rule of law?! Do you know how much I’ve suffered for this?! I…I refuse to believe this!” That chill gets worse, and the ominous and malicious feeling you’re getting from Riddle gets worse. Something much darker. A line of dark blood drips from Riddle’s nose. Wait, that’s not blood. Blood isn’t….black.

You might be angry about earlier, but unlike Riddle, you haven’t lost your wits. You can tell when things are nose-diving into a downward spiral at terminal velocity. Because the longer Riddle spits his mad ravings, the more of that black stuff comes out.

You normally wouldn’t do this, mostly because you want to punch the bastard. But that inky stuff has to be a bad omen. “Riddle, you need to calm down.” You try to soothe the raging beast, even though you’re sure that this is a bad idea. “You don’t want to be a rulebreaker, right? So just calm down and we’ll talk this out.”

“Wha-OW!” Ace looks at you as if you’d gone insane too, but you elbowed him harshly in the gut. 

Riddle’s angry glare falls on you. And you could see the veins starting to twitch under his skin. If he gets any more angry, then he might have a stroke. “ I! AM NOT! A RULE BREAKER!” He yells, his own rage leaving him breathless. “AND YOU! OF ALL PEOPLE! HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY THAT!”

“I’m just trying to calm you down, you don’t really want to break the rules by hurting anyone, do you?” You hope he doesn’t actually want to hurt anyone. Plus, you’re really not ready to witness someone’s death. 

Riddle’s face is so red, it looks like it might explode. And his glare could kill you and cook the remains with how fiery it is. 

He snaps, his voice laden with venom. 

“YOU! DARLINGS LIKE YOU! ARE WHY WE NEED THE RULES! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY THAT TO ME!”

…..What.

Did he just- 

No way, he just did. He did. 

Shit. Shit...SHIT. 

FUCK YOU, RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS!

You did NOT go through all that shit for him to reveal it to everyone here in a fit of rage. No fuck him, fuck this, whatever shit he has going on can wait because you need this bastard’s neck to be the other way round. 

You feel fire burn under your skin. You’re gonna-

“Wait, wha-” You hear , and you don’t even have the ability to freeze up in terror. Because you gotta disperse the potential nightmare of Ace and Deuce finding out. Even if they don’t believe him, the doubt will remain. So you’re basically fried. 

“It’s nothing!” You frantically yell to cut off whatever Ace or  Deuce were going to say as fast as you can as you feel your heart speed up in total panic.  You’ll be lucky if they think this is a psychotic rambling of a raging tyrant. This just keeps getting worse and worse for you. 

If Riddle doesn’t get killed in this madness, then he owes you an apology and you owe him a big, fat fist to the face. 

Meanwhile as you prepare for your own mental breakdown, Crowley maintains his complete and utter uselessness, even though he probably has the power to stop this. “Cease immediately, Mr. Rosehearts! Any further attempt to use magic will leave your magestone completely tainted with blot!”

What is blot?! 

And why is Riddle-

“But….I’m right! I’M the one who’s right! There is NO! POSSIBLE! ALTERNATIVE!” Thick, black inky substance  comes out of his eyes and ears. 

“Riddle, stop!” Trey’s words can’t pull Riddle out of his madness and likely never will. 

Because all that black ink dripping out of nearly every pore, staining his skin and clothes, pools around him for only a few seconds. Before it engulfs him, swallowing him whole. 

And like a caterpillar metamorphosing into a horrific butterfly…..

…..he comes out a monster.

Like a horrible chrysalis bursting open, Riddle comes out changed. 

His skin is so pallid, the color could have been mistaken for bone. A red flame is positioned over his right eye, glowing an unnatural color. The ink that bleed out of his skin sticks to his arm and face like tar. And most identifiably, he’s dressed like the Queen of Hearts. Sort of, if she was beheaded and her body was thrown in her beloved rose garden to be torn apart by the hedgehogs. (A fitting fate in your eyes)

The tyrant has changed to match his predecessor, both over-controlling monsters. 

But that’s not the most terrifying part of it. 

There’s also the giant hulking beast tethered to Riddle’s back.  And that’s the most defining feature. Because that thing matches your dreams of the Queen of Hearts. The monster is dressed in a dress nearly identical to the one from your second dream. She’s even carrying a rose bush, torn from another world’s ground.

This is not good. And you’re suddenly very afraid of what will happen next.

The possessed? Riddle cackles, “You are fools to defy me! You are not welcome in my world. In my world, I am the law. I am order made manifest!” His voice is warped and distorted as if someone otherworldly is speaking through him.

“The only response I will accept from you is ‘Yes, Dorm Leader Riddle.’ All who defy me will lose their heads! Ah ha ha ha HA!” 

“Dear me, what have I done? I’ve allowed a student to overblot in my presence!” What the fuck is overblot!?

“Crowley? What the HELL is overblot!?” You demand an explanation to this madness, because Riddle is both a monster, and has a massive monster connected to his spine. Seriously, what the shit is this!?!

“Overblot is a dangerous condition that mages must avoid at all costs. At the moment, he is overcome by negative energy and has lost control of his magic and emotions.”

“Okay but what does that mean?!” 

“Please explain!”

“To put it in layman’s terms, he’s in evil berserker mode!”

“If he keeps releasing magical energy, we could be looking at a loss of life here- his included.” 

“WHAT!” You feel your eye twitch, “CROWLEY! WHY DIDN’T YA JUST TELL ME ALL THIS SHIT WHEN I GOT HERE!!” It can’t be that hard, can it? How hard is it to give the unfortunate transfer student from another world or dimension a simple crash-course of ‘hey, here’s some things you should know about our world!’, for crap’s sake. 

“Ms. ____-” 

“Nevermind, Crowley! We’ll deal with the evil giant monster thing now, I’ll freak out later!” And freak out you will. Riddle outed you, overblotted and could kill someone or multiple someones if this shit goes south. Forget punching him, you’re going to beat him so bad that smug arrogant face of his will be unrecognizable when you're done with him.You are fucking tired of this shit already, and when you think it’s bad it just gets worse.

“Yes! The well-being of my students is my top priority. Therefore, I must evacuate them immediately.”

“Y-You’re not staying?”. You say weakly. Was the bar for headmaster requirements in hell? Yes, there is a giant monster/dorm leader attacking the running and hiding Heartslabyul residents but this is a MAGIC school for shit’s sake. “No, but as for Mr.Rosehearts, we must restore his consciousness before his magical energy runs dry.” Damnit Crowley! “For as bad as losing him would be, there are scenarios that are far worse…” WHAT’S WORSE?!?!

“Listen well: I need all of you to seek help from the other housewardens and members of faculty.” But how the hell are going to all evacuate and summon the other housewardens if Riddle is-

While the exposition dump was happening, the beast behind Riddle follows his body movements, and still fueled by all the anger that caused this whole mess to start in the first place, raises the rose bush like a club, prepared to strike down one of the unfortunate Heartslabyul students.

Ace and Deuce finally allowed to use their magic, do what they’ve wanted to do since yesterday. Strike the pretentious dorm leader down.

“HIIYAH! TAKE THAT!” A strong magical gust knocks the beast’s weapon away from its original target. And annoys the furious Riddle. 

“Huh!? Trey, Cater and Crowley look and sound bewildered at the attack, but you feel a rush of pride. 

“I summon thee, cauldron!” Deuce takes advantage of Riddle’s change in focus to strike. With his infamous cauldron spell. Riddle manages to dodge it, but at least he’s not attacking the students any more!

“MYAH!” Grim leaps out of your arms to join the attacks, sending a wave of blue fire along with Ace and Deuce’s own attacks. 

Now even more pissed ( a surprise to be honest) Riddle fumes at their lack of submission. “What do you fools think you’re doing?”

“Um, hello?! 911? We’ve got an idiot emergency!” Cater’s internet talk doesn’t fade in times of high stress.

Grim, acting unlike his usual selfish self, actually points out the most frightening part of this, “You DID hear that part about how reeeal bad things are happenin’ with him, right?!”

“That’s why we need to stop him now! I don’t want that on my conscience!” Yah, Riddle straight up sucks but risking the deaths of others to save yourself from certain death is cowardly, and unlike the rampager, you’re not a hypocrite. 

“And I’m not givin’ up till I hear him say, ‘I was wrong and I’m sorry.’”

You’re convinced, “Yeah, he owes me an apology for the shit he put me through!!”

“All right, let’s do this. I can overwrite his magic for a little longer. In the meantime, do what you can! Headmage, please evacuate the other students!”

“Wait! This is dangerous!”

“Are you S-R-S, Trey? You can’t beat Riddle!”

“So what, you’re not even gonna fight unless you KNOW you can win?”

“Yeah, he’s right. That’s weak.”

“This is the only way we can think of to snap him out of this!”

“Yeah…I don’t want to lose him. There’re too many things I’ve left unsaid.”

“We just have to do this, whatever it takes!” You might not be able to do magic, but you’ll help….somehow. 

“Ugh, I do NOT like or subscribe to this, but fine!”

Ngh…I’ll be back as soon as I’ve gotten the students to safety. Stand firm until then!”

“Such defiance, from every last one of you! I shall take all of your heads!”

“Riddle’s body can’t take much more of this. We need to stop him before it’s too late!”

Things are going…..well enough. 

Because how in every layer of hell can you describe this? At all? It’s not everyday that you watch a magician go into berserker mode and try to kill his ‘underlings’ or really equals he’s un/knowingly been abusing for who knows how long?

Here’s the good news. 

Trey’s magic makes the fight easier for them. Replacing Riddle’s UM makes the battle actually possible. 

Cater’s Spilt Card, makes the perfect distraction ones, that he can use as human shields as Riddle strikes.

Even Ace, Deuce and Grim’s inexperience manages to turn the tide. Wind, cauldrons and fire join a barrage of more sophisticated and more complicated spells of the third-years is the perfect combination of brute strength and complicated strategy. 

But here’s the bad news. 

Riddle’s fast. Very fast. 

For every one spell the others cast, Riddle can cast two. and moves twice as fast to replace every one Trey replaces. Which should be impossible with all of his magical energy and life force being drained away but it seems whether he’s a horrific monster or a tyrannical dictator, he’s still a magical prodigy.

What your friends need is a distraction. And they need one fast. And while you might not have magic, you’re not completely powerless here. 

Why? 

Because Riddle’s earlier pique was kind enough to dislodge plenty of stones that once were the floor of the battle ground. Small and light enough for you to carry. Large and heavy enough to leave a nasty bruise or a nice headache.

All you hope is that you have good aim. Because this better land right in the face. 

Even with the hail of magic sending wind, ice, fire, cauldrons and other magical bursts in Riddle’s direction, you’re safely hidden in the background and the beast attached to him is otherwise preoccupied with the aforementioned magic, so it’s easy to sneak away. 

You wrap your hand around one of the loose stones of the destroyed battlegrounds, and sneak behind the bushes till you’re a good distance away from the others with a broad distance away from him and that monster. “Hey Rosehearts!” You yell.

He turns to you with a death glare that could actually cut off your head. But as soon as his gaze has fallen on you, you throw the stone as hard as you can.

It hits him square in the forehead. 

Riddle doesn’t even have the time to cry out in pain, as he and the phantom monster stumble back, dazed.

“HA! Take that you controlling bastard!” Sure, you’re saving his life in the process, but considering he just outed you, kicking his ass through this is actually one hell of a relief.

Everyone takes advantage of the distraction you made to send another barrage of magic against Riddle. Still dazed from your strike to his head, probably combined with the damage the overblot was taking on his body, he’s much slower. 

So now, every strike lands without fail, and Riddle barely has time to retaliate now. And that changes the tide of the battle. 

With every new strike, the monster’s body starts to distort and parts of its body start to writhe and twist. The darkness glowing underneath starts to distort and warp. The roots holding it to Riddle's body start to sever. The monster’s distorted roars start to soften, turning weaker. 

“Is it over?” You ask. You feel safe enough to go closer, now that the monster’s body starts to sway and collapse. Riddle looks like he’s about to pass out. “Is he going to die?”

“He better not. He still needs to apologize to me!” Ace 

You sigh in relief for half a second. And the blot around Riddle swarms him. 

You don’t know what switched on within you. You hate this guy. You want to see him suffer a little, or more specifically a lot.

“Henchman!” 

So you don’t know why you ran when you did, or why you grabbed Riddle’s wrist like a vice right before his body disappeared into the mess of dark ink. You grabbed on as tight as you can,  just as the monster finally burst. 

Thick ink, scalding hot like Riddle’s burning rage, hits your skin and burns your face. You scream in reflex, and your mouth burns from the hot, bitter ink entering it. You choke on the blot. It burns. It coats you, covers you, drowns you and your vision swims. But your grip doesn’t let up. 

“_____!!!” You hear many voices screaming your name. But you can’t see them. The burning black ink falls like rain, obscuring your friends from view.

All you can feel is that overwhelmingly painful and smothering burn of the ink…but the last thing your senses pick up on before you pass out isn’t the burn on your skin, the bitterness in your mouth, or the voices of your friends.

It’s a voice.

“I…was wrong?! But that’s…impossible…”

A sad, anguished voice. The sad, anguished voice of Riddle Rosehearts.

“Isn’t it….Mother?”

[sleepyserenssims]

Cantina Collection

Straight from Oga's Cantina comes this cobbled together industrial set.

A bit later than planned but finally here. All items are very low poly as they are all frankenmeshed from the original bar back counters.

The textures are all composites and rearrangements of the originals, as a result they are not seamless - but we'll say it just adds to the look that they've just been made from whatever scrap metal was around!

Also as the cabinet doors all have the same rust pattern, it looks odd/repetitive on very big kitchens but works fine for small spaces.

There is only one swatch for all items except the seating, which comes in the same colours as the originals.

All items are base game compatible, except the resized bar backs which require Journey to Batuu.

See below for further details, pictures and download links.

Comfort (5 items):

Industrial Bar Stools x 2 - Low Back & No Back

Industrial Dining Chairs x 2 - Low Back & No Back (shown with original JtB high back chair)

Metal Dining Chair (shown with original JtB bar stool)

Surfaces (16 items):

Kitchen Counters & Islands

Bar Table

Dining Tables x 2

Coffee & End Tables

Console Tables x 3

Smaller Replicas of the original Cantina Barbacks x 5 - resized to match the height of regular counters NOTE: You'll need to use bb.moveobjects on to align these properly. JOURNEY TO BATUU PACK IS REQUIRED.

Industrial Shelf

Decor (2 items):

Metal Splashbacks x 2

Activities & Skills (3 items):

Oga's Bars x 2

Sabacc Game Table NOTE: BGC but JOURNEY TO BATUU is required in order to change the game type to Sabacc. Without this it will function as any other base game card table.

Download All (Downloads ZIP file from Google Drive)

Pick and Choose (Opens Google Drive folder)

If there's any problems with any of these items or you have any constructive feedback, suggestions or questions, please just get in touch, I'm still learning every day!

My TOU

Credits

All textures and meshes are edited or frankenmeshed from in-game EA assets.

@myshunosun - for their gorgeous sona dining chair which I cloned in order to have an object with the necessary transparency for the chair and bar stool - can be downloaded here.

Lizbot3000 - for their base game bar tables, which I cloned for my bar table and can be found here.

@ravasheencc - for her Crop It Like It's Hot Backdrops which I used to take some preview photos and can be downloaded here.

CC created using Blender, Sims 4 Studio & GIMP. Preview images using Canva Pro.

Everyone on the S4S forums and the Creator Musings discord group for all the tutorials and advice/help.

[burning-omen]

Kinktober Day 1: Breeding + Jason Todd

Jason Todd x male reader

Kinktober 2023 list | Day 2 | Ao3

(a/n; “hey it's September 30th, right? Tf you mean ‘it's october 1st’ no the fuck it no- AHHHHHH” me about three hours ago realizing that I never finished THE FIRST DAY of kinktober )

Summary: You’re a photographer at the Wayne Family events, after meeting Jason by chance they start growing closer

Warning: Horny Jason, horny reader, top!reader, bottom!jason, Jason moans like a bitch, rude rich people, pillow princess + brat Jason Todd, unprotected sex, breeding, not beta read lol.

Word count: 3.4k

To the shock of everyone involved, Jason Todd attended all of the Wayne Galas, not because he liked them- obviously. No, these things were horrible and stuffy and he hated every last person in attendance. Well, almost every last person. Bruce had hired a photographer a few months back, the first few events that you photographed you were mostly in the background, taking wide shots of the entire party, only recently did you start to mingle with the crowd more.

You met Jason a few weeks back as you tried to navigate through a pushy crowd of rich people who, to no one surprise, all thought they were the most important person there. You got pushed into Jason by a man who looked like he could have been British royalty in the 1800s, he sneered at you like a cartoon villain before walking away. You'd been overly apologetic that day, having nearly knocked the drink out of his hand. He was fine though, if not slightly enamored, you looked nice, but out of place, your clothes weren't quite up to Wayne Gala standards, before he could ask what you were doing here, he noticed the camera hanging from your neck, and offered to be your guide.

He ended up sticking with you for the rest of the night, talking as you took pictures of various people and decor around the event. It made your job a hell of a lot easier, people were quick to bump into you, you weren't rich and therefore weren't fully human to these people, but Jason was one of them, well, he was close enough, and even if he wasn't, if he was just as out of place as you, nobody was going to disrespect the host's son.

By the end of the night, you and Jason were on one of the balconies looking over all the photos from that night, and eventually some of your other work.

Eventually, you did have to leave, Bruce was paying for your ride and you really didn't want him to have to wait any longer.

You only got closer after that, every event that the Waynes hosted, you were there, and on your tail- as always- was Jason.

Your relationship didn't take a turn until the last party the Wayne threw, this one wasn't a charity but a birthday party for Bruce's friend, Oliver Queen, who insisted he needed to have it in Gotham. And even though Bruce gave a perfect speech regarding their friendship, you couldn't help but hear the irritation behind it. The night went on as usual, with Jason acting as your shadow as you weed through the crowd.

Your end of the night ritual is the only thing that changed, as you were showing Jason the pictures from tonight, he leaned over and rested his head on your shoulder, an odd act from the man, considering the most he'd touched you at this point was him putting a hand on your shoulder or tapping you to get your attention.

“Tired?” you asked jokingly.

“No,” he said but didn't elaborate.

As you continued to shuffle through the pictures you could feel him nuzzling into your neck. You let out a short, nervous laugh.

“Are you drunk?”

He hummed quietly, then laughed, “No, I'm just…”

He didn't continue, just pressing further into you, you gave up on showing him the photos for now, instead carding your fingers through his hair. Feeling just how different the white streak felt from the rest of his hair, most of his hair was thick and smooth, running through your fingers with ease. The white part was thick too, but it just felt like air, so light and delicate that you could barely feel it against your fingers.

You didn't stop until you felt his lips press against your neck, again and again as he hummed in contempt.

“Jason…” you muttered but didn't move to stop him.

He eventually moved up to your face- your cheeks, your jaw, your lips- with his kisses. It was only when you made a move and kissed him back did things escalate.

You ended up fumbling around on the floor with him, then in the hall, and on the wall next to his bedroom wall, and eventually in his bedroom. Which resulted in the most embarrassing walk of shame you've ever experienced as you had to run past your literal boss having breakfast with the rest of his family- he looked just as shocked as you imagined he would. Jason's older brother, Dick, made a comment that made Jason shout at him, you couldn't hear it with how hard your heart was beating in your ears.

You expected everything to end after that, your friendship with Jason, your job, your reputation as a photographer.

But to your surprise, the moment the front door closed behind you, Jason grabbed your face and pulled you in for a kiss, sweet and slow, nowhere near as frantic and lust-filled as they were the night before.

You started getting together outside of events after that, he stayed at your apartment most days, because ‘he liked being surrounded by you’. You learned a few things about him too, a big one being that he was a bottom, not just a bottom. A total pillow princess as well. He’ll flirt and tease all day and night long, but the moment you turn around to do the same to him, he becomes so pliant, letting you move him how you like, touch him how you liked, and fuck him how you liked.

Considering how close you'd become with his son, you figured you'd never get a call from Bruce to do another job. But you did, and despite feeling a bit out of place at first you eventually got back into it. Jason was your shadow as always, whispering things he definitely shouldn't in your ear, making it hard to focus.

“When was the last time we fucked, honestly?”

“Babe, I'm working,” you said calmly.

“It’s a genuine question.”

You sighed, “about a week ago, when the power went out.”

He only chuckled, still leaning down in you ear.

“There’s gotta be a broom closet somewhere around here-”

“Jason, stop it-”

“I want you to fuck me right up against the door, let everybody hear me while you-”

“Jason-”

“Jason!”

Looking over you saw Dick, who was probably the most outwardly supportive of your relationship with Jason out of everyone in his family. The presence of his brother shut him up quickly, his face turning a bit red. You and Jason wandered around the party with Dick for a while, you were having a great time, taking photos as Dick told to funny little stories about Jason.

Jason, however, wasn't having a great time. He’d planned to flirt with you all night then get fucked so hard that his brain stopped working, then getting pampered by you for the rest of the night, unfortunately, Dick had taken an interest in you for the night, purely platonic of course, but it was constant, and even though Dick has definitely seen Jason at his worst, it'd be really fucking weird if he begged you to fuck him within earshot of his brother. So he held out, frustrated and horny as the party droned on.

By the time guests started leaving you'd been informed of every little embarrassing thing Jason has ever done- including stealing the wheels off Bruce's car, some stories had to be left out or changed for obvious reasons, but outside of that, you were caught up on Jason's embarrassment timeline. You could practically feel Jason stewing behind you, horny, frustrated, and, embarrassed all at once.

“I think it's time for us to go, if we stay any longer Jason's brain is going to start leaking out of his ears.”

You said your goodbyes to Dick and turned to Jason, who was glaring after the man as he walked away.

“We can go now.”

The fumble up to his bedroom was exactly that, a fumble as you clumsily avoided the lingering guest, and as you took a few minutes to worship the exposed pieces of his body on the stairs with your hands and mouth, only moving when you heard footsteps.

You didn't carry Jason into the room, but you might as well have with the way you controlled his every move. He fell back onto his bed, spreading his legs subconsciously even though he was still fully dressed. The smile on his face only grew wider when you yanked him by his now loose tie, pulling him back up to you, pressing a kiss on his lips that only got more heated with every passing second. Kneeling on the bed, his legs wrapped around your waist almost instantly, you could feel the heels of the balmorals Bruce had bought him digging into the back of your thigh.

He pulled back, flopping down on the bed. Jason's hands, however steady they were before, became utterly useless in a matter of seconds as he failed to unbutton his pants several times before giving up, wordlessly resting his hands above his head, staring up at you expectantly. The term ‘pillow princess’ came to mind for a brief second as you unbuttoned them for him. Purposefully ignoring the tight bulge in his pants that was nearly demanding your attention.

“Come on, y/n,” he muttered, his voice as deep as ever.

Slowly rocking his hips against yours in a desperate, yet short lived, attempt at getting you to act. You were by no means cruel, and considering his little plan for the night hadn't fallen through, you indulged him. Lifting his still-clothed thigh up to your shoulder, you had to do a bit of maneuvering to get his pants down to his ankles, Jason was entirely unhelpful, you'd be convinced he was a rag doll if it weren't for his inability to stop fucking squirming.

The way his cock twitched in his pants showed you just how desperate he was, thrusting up against nothing, a short whine coming from somewhere deep in his throat as he started up at you with those pretty blue eyes.

You ran your hands over the exposed skin of his thigh, leaning down and kissing them, leaving little bruises and bites before switching to the next. His gaze was intense, almost glaring, but the whines and whimpers he let out told you that he was just desperate.

Then, unexpectedly, you slid your hand all the way down the inside of his thigh, feeling goosebumps rise in your wake, Jason figured you'd stop just before his cock, you liked teasing him like that, liked taking him apart slowly. But that's apparently not what you had in mind tonight, he only realized that when you wrapped your fingers around his cock, the fabric of his boxers tightened along with your grip. He whined, bucking up into your hand.

Far faster than he expected, you stroked him through his pants, the texture of them and the squeezing pressure your hand provided sending shivers up and down his spine. He gripped the bed sheets as you settled into a pleasant rhythm, fast and tight around his sensitive cock.

His eyes hung low, squeezing shut when you brushed over the tip.

Jason came quickly, hips sputtering and muttering incoherently as he did, cum sleeping through black fabric, drenching your hand and the boxers.

You pulled back, putting your hands back on his thighs, watching his chest rise and fall rapidly as he came down.

Hands still gripping the sheets, he sat there and waited, waiting for you to do something, you were in control after all. But you didn't, you just watched him, his chest rising and falling, cum splattered on his underwear and just under his belly button, the bruises and bites littering his thighs.

“Y/n..” he muttered, hard and horny all over again.

You laughed, “yes?”

He scooted closer to you until you hips were firmly pressed against his ass. Even then, you could here him muttering ‘come on’ over and over against under his breath.

“Speak up, you have to tell me what you want.”

He glared, a real harsh glare that you knew was born out of frustration. He should have known you'd be like this, for a moment he thought he'd really gotten off the hook, but you never just let him cum, you never just fucked him, no, he had to beg for it, as though him presenting himself to you wasn't begging enough.

“Just,” suddenly unable to find his words, Jason groaned, “do something!”

You let out another short laugh, then asked, “Something like what?”

The urge to kick you suddenly emereged.

“Anything, please I-” his hands went from the bed sheets to his face, covering his eyes as his brain once again failed to produce the right words.

You leaned down, pressing kisses down his throat and the pieces of his chest that we're exposed.

After a moment you asked, “How about you tell me what you wanted earlier, you seemed to have a lot of ideas then.”

He shifted, his hands finding the bed again, seems like his mind was racing, as his eyes were almost completely unfocused and blush rose on his cheeks with every second that passed, you gave him a moment to sort himself out.

He spoke suddenly, his voice coming out with some force, “I need you to fuck me until I can’t take it anymore, like you did when the power went out and we didn’t have anything else to do but fuck over and over again, I need you to fuck me like that again, I want you to cum in me so many times that it drips out of my ass and ruins the bed- ah- and I- I can’t- I can’t fucking think with you grinding against me like that so can you please just hurry up and do something!”

A wide grin spread out on your face, even though you barely comprehended that you were grinding your bulge into his ass, it was good to see how a bit of gentle pressure was already making him writhe.

You pulled back, before he could stop complaining you flipped the giant of a man onto his stomach with a hard shove. You heard him moan as he bounced against the bed, he liked being manhandled, but you figured that one out a while ago.

Pulling his boxers down to his knees, fully ready to prep him, only to see the familiar shiny glint of lube covering his hole. Without thinking, you pressed a finger in, feeling just how easily he took it you almost laughed.

“You take all the fun out of prepping you..”

“Shut up and fuck me!”

His desperate, panting tone was enough for you to cave, even as he glared back at you. It took you a second to get out of your clothes, well really just your pants, belt, and boxers, but it still took longer than Jason would have ever liked, again, bratty pillow princess of the century.

By the time you let your cock prod against his hole, he'd grabbed a pillow and rested it under his head, still turning to face you as you slowly pushed in. His resolve didn't last long, broken by a long moan as the head of your cock slipped into his hole, already about to thrust a hole into the bed sheets.

You grabbed his hips, pressing them hard into the bed, he stopped moving, an undeniable whimper coming from him.

You pressed further, barely even half way in and you could feel him squeezing around you, you pressed down until your hips were pressed together.

He panted and moaned, his body flexing, then relaxing. You waited for him to give you a sign that he was okay, and when he did you waited more, just to tease him. He realized this a couple of seconds later, dropping his head into the pillow with a frustrated groan, you're surprised he didn't turn around and cuss you out at that exact moment.

Even though you probably shouldn't have, you pulled out slow, and slammed back into him with more force than you meant to, the bed dipped beneath you both and Jason let put a wild moan. You probably should have gone slow with him, made him cum over and over again before filling him yourself, but you didn't, you had a bit of an epiphany while you had Jason fully wrapped around your cock. You were really, really fucking horny. With someone as pretty as Jason it was always so tempting to take him about the slow way, teasing, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of him, but with some that felt as good as Jason does, it's pretty easy to let that idea fly out the window in turn of pounding him into the mattress.

So you did.

Watching him claw and bite at the pillow beneath him in an attempt to bring some stability back. His whole body getting forced forward with every thrust.

Loud, almost pained, moans and the sound of skin hitting skin filled the room. Even with the pillow shoved into his mouth he was still impossibly loud. You could feel just how warm he’d gotten, his skin was hot and sweaty, and in your mind, you'd hardly even done anything to him yet.

Little tears prickled in his eyes, he squeezed them closed tightly. Taking your cock wasn't anything new to him but fuck, sometimes you could be rough. Not that he didn't enjoy it, no, if he had less pride he’d be screaming at the top of his lungs how good it felt.

He could already tell where bruises were going to form, he'd have burning red hand prints on his waist for sure, and an odd one on his ass and inner thighs, hickies and smaller bruises would litter practically every surface his body offered for sure.

Leaning down, you thrust hitting deeper and deeper, you kissed along his shoulders and back, trying to soothe at least a little of the hurt you were causing. You didn't but it felt nice anyways.

Jason's vision went a little spotty when he came again, you never stopped fucking him and he really didn't want you to. His cum soaked into the sheets beneath him, he could feel the sticky sheets cling to his stomach.

You followed soon after, shooting cum deep inside of him, just like he wanted. He whimpered quietly at the feeling, he could still feel you fucking him with your softened cock, trusting much slower, much to his dismay. He knew you were just waiting to get hard again but he really didn't like waiting.

It didn't take long for you to get hard again, you were still fully inside your beautiful boyfriend's beautiful ass so it definitely wasn't difficult. You continued pounding into him like nothing happened, he didn't say anything either, other than incoherent word between moans. Even though he didn't have to wait long, he missed you fucking him already.

You slammed into him hard and he went cross-eyed for a moment, letting his moans flow freely, louder and more satisfied than before.

“Right there-” he panted, “again, please-”

You couldn't deny him, not when he begged like that, you angled you hips so you'd slam against that spot again and again until he was staining the sheets for a second, then third time.

He made it too easy to want to fuck him.

His body was nearly limp by his fourth orgasm, you pulled out, he let out a little noise, unable to do much about it. You flipped him onto his back, seeing the mess covering his cock and stomach, his eyes tracked your every move, but not many where made, you ran your hands down his thighs just like you'd found before, then shoved your cock back into his mess of a hole.

You chased your own pleasure, dragging an exhausted Jason along with you for the ride. His hands gripped onto you, pulling you down and holding you tight, letting his airy moans fill your ears.

You came soon after, with him clawing at your back and clinging to you like a damn koala. You stayed inside him for a long moment, waiting for him to remember that he had to let you go.

When he did, you leaned back, watching yourself pull out of him, your cock covered in cum and lube. Cum dripped out of his hole rapidly, a puddle forming and growing on the bed, you laughed, still a bit winded.

“Hey, looks like you got your wish, these sheets are definitely ruined.”

He laughed tiredly before pulling you back down into his arms.

[blondejellykitty]

₊♡ ˚⊹ intruders in the cabin ₊♡ ˚⊹

୨୧ toby rogers x reader ୨୧ after your long walk through the forest, the stranger's cabin approaches but so does the dark... find part one: strangers in the woods. a/n: (1.5k words) sorry this took so long! i had so many different ideas of how this would go but i ended up liking this one best 🩷

After the long trek from within the forest, the encompassing trees merged into the dark distance. Ahead of you and Toby, who you came to know lived out here for his job, was a two story cabin. It wasn't overly large but you could tell it wouldn't be cramped inside.

You both were coming out of the forest from the right side of the house. At the front of the house was a small porch area with an old weathered metal stool. There were two dirt tracks from a vehicle winding into the forest. Toby offhandedly pointed to it as he walked up the porch stairs mentioning that that's the only way to get to an exit road.

He pulled out a silver key that was beginning to rust out of his jean pocket. His hand twitched a few times as if he had a bad hand cramp before roughly shoving the key into the lock.

Said wooden door was roughly shoved open hitting the wall behind it with a thud. The roof lights took a few seconds to come on after he flicked the light switch but he seemed to know where to go without them anyway. You hesitantly follow him into the old house.

It's not as if you had any other choice really. How else would you find your way out to the woods in the dark?

The interior was just as aged as the rest of the place. There were two brown couches one opposite the tv mounted on the wall above the fireplace, the other was on the right of the tv closing the living room off from the kitchen. There was a coffee table in between the two couches that had seen better days.

The kitchen table didn't look much better, there were four chairs although one had a bent leg and was sitting on an angle. So was one of the wooden cabinets barely hanging onto its hinges.

What else would you expect from a park ranger? Though it was a bit odd for someone your age to be doing this kind of job but then again the job market was rough so you gave the guy some slack.

He led you to couches where you sat on the nearest seat. Although it didn't look like it, the couch was more comfy than it looked. You almost melted back as you took in the rest of the room's details.

Most of the pictures and wall decor had a layer of dust on it, with thick cobwebs in the corners of the tall ceiling. There were worn marks from frequent use on the stairs opposite the front door, leading to the second floor of the cabin.

The creak of the fridge door opening startled you from your observations. Toby's head was peering into the fridge. "What'd you want? We've got gross pulp juice or flat cola?"

Not particularly your favourite choices in the world.

"Oh, there's some redbull cans- never mind their Bri- uh. My roommates." You were practically telepathic thanks to your customer service job but you could only just make out what he was mumbling about.

"I'll just have the juice, thank you" He hummed in agreement as he pulled out two glasses and poured you both a glass of the bulb orange juice.

He went around the other couch sitting down and leaning over to place your drink on the rackety table.

As he drank his eyes never left you, as if trying to soul search you. Under such intensive eyes you picked at the ends of your shirt, an odd habit you picked up during your time at school.

"So, do you live here alone?" Another habit of yours rose to the surface, filling the awkward silence. A habit you picked up at work.

"No, i have roommates"

He literally just mentioned it. Ugh you idiot, honestly.

"Right, you did mention that. Sorry" You quickly reached forward to grab your cup, raising it quickly to your mouth.

He laughed a bit, more like chuckled at your misfortune before muttering 'it's fine'.

"So why're you walking the trail you know before you got lost?" He emphasised the lost part as if he knew you weren't really. You gulped uncomfortably.

"I wanted to clear my head, walk with nature- that kinda thing." He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Walk with nature? What the hell does that even mean" You scoffed.

Clearly this guy hadn't read many self care books.

"You know, like to get away from what's bothering you" He shrugged nonchalantly and placed his empty cup down.

"I usually try to get away from the forest with all my problems" You somewhat snorted, also placing your half drank cup down.

A surprisingly easy quiet washed over you both. You were finally able to fully take in the fidgeting man in front of you.

He really was quite attractive. His hair had the slightest curl to it and he had the nicest eyelashes. His jawline too was perfect for his face. Not to mention his build too, he clearly had a runner's body but slightly more muscles in his arms, he- he was smirking too. He definitely saw you check him out. Opps.

"Would you like to share?" His voice jolted you out of your embrassing trance, you only just managed to not let it show.

"Share what?" He stretched his arms a bit before leaning one on the back to the couch with the other one falling back next to his legs.

"Share your problems, why you were out 'with nature'" His voice held a soft yet joking tone.

"Oh uh, it was just my boss- ex boss now"

"Oh, yeah?" He sat up a bit, more interested in what you had to spill.

"Yeah, he was a bit of a dick. Fired me which majorly sucks" He let out a 'oof' sound as he blew out air in a sigh.

"Right-o that sucks, damn you're having a worse day than me" You tried not to laugh, a tight smile the result.

"Happened yesterday actually so between us, you're having a worse day so" You dramatically shrugged and he laughed along.

"Fair enough" His voice teasingly defeated.

After a bit more back and forth talking about anything under the sun for a good while. He got up grabbing both your cups and retreating to the kitchen once more, asking if you wanted a refill.

As you were about to answer, a light shone through the gaps in the curtains. Toby was frozen in place before quickly darting over to you.

He roughly grabbed your upper arm pulling you up and into him. You whimpered an 'ow' out before he forcefully pulled you away from the couch and towards the stairs.

"What the fuck, let go of me!" Your voice spiraled the more confused you got and the longer he gripped you tight.

He merely lowly grunted in response, almost pushing you up the stairs. He got you about half-way up when the door slammed open.

Two men around the same height walked in and stopped at the view of you two. The man who walked in first had dark hair, a tan jacket over a red checkered shirt. In his hand was a black and white mask.

The other man had lighter hair, an off-yellow hoodie and fingerless gloves. In his hand was a black ski mask looking hood.

They were covered in blood except their faces. The masks however were dripping in blood, most of it falling onto the wooden floor.

A scream rang through the dimly lit cabin. It wasn't until Toby's hand violently covered your both did you realize it was coming from you.

Your now muffled cries seemed to awaken the two new men out of their distraction.

"What the fuck Toby? We were gone what three- four hours and you bring a fucking stray here?" The man with the yellow hoodie angrily ran his hand through his messy hair while the other man shook his head in disbelief before collapsing down onto the couch.

"She got lost, besides she's pretty" His stuttering heightened the more the man glared at him.

"I don't care whether she Helen of fucking Troy Toby! You know the rules"

Your attempts to get free were futile, with Toby's arm wrapped around your middle and his hand covering your mouth. Your wriggling and jolting did nothing but push you into him again and again.

He grumbled under his breath before flipping you around to face him. He held both your wrists in one hand while his other wrapped around the back of your head.

You could feel the sting on your arms and neck from his harshness. Your wide eyes watering in fear and the cold air. Your jarpled words mixed together to form a barely cohert sentence. Thoughts too scattered to comprehend the situation.

Toby's eyes were blank but his bottom lip jutted out in a pout.

"Well, it seems like you are having a worse day than me huh?" You blinked in confusion.

You opened your mouth to respond when his hand shifted to your hair pulling at the roots. He pushed your head towards his shoulder. Then in a split second he smacked your head towards the hard, cold wall.

[gi4hao]

🗓️ ᡣ𐭩ྀི ˎˊ- anniversary dates with seventeenྀི

hyung line version! (scoups -> woozi)

had a really sunny weekend so please enjoy these sunshine-fueled scenarios!

— seungcheol

turns out your anniversary took place during a vacation together, a week-long holiday near the beach. on the d-day, he refuses to say anything about his plans, no matter how many times you ask, to the point where you end up blindfolded as he leads you to his surprise. when you take the blindfold off, the only thing you can see is a white boat awaiting on the shore. at first you’re scared he might have actually bought the boat, but he ‘only’ rented it for a private dinner. the sun has just started to set and you’re glad to have picked one of your cutest outfits because you just know he’s going to be taking as many pictures of you as he can. you might be admiring the sunset, but he'll be admiring you the whole time.

— jeonghan

he truly racked his brain to find the per-fect date idea. on the day, he keeps you guessing with more than vague hints (like “we talked about doing that one day” as if you didn’t talk about literally doing everything together). but he’s confident in his surprise and rightfully so: at first you think it’s just a regular picnic, which would have been fine on its own, but as more people start to gather around you, you realize that a lantern festival is actually taking place here tonight. together, you scribble your wishes and dreams for the future on your lantern. and you love how he’s not even trying to hide what he’s writing: one thing about jeonghan, he’ll never try to conceal anything about his feelings for you.

— joshua

this one has a proud smirk plastered on his face the entire morning, hinting at a surprise. you get in his car around 9am and drive for about twenty minutes until he stops in front of a fancy looking building. “you know how we always talk about moving to a bigger apartment yet never actually visit anything? well i figured today would be the day…”, he tells you excitedly. and it’s only when the realtor meets you on the street that you realize joshua has actually booked a visit. more than one, in fact: throughout the day, you visit four apartments, walking from one to the other hand in hand, already fantasizing about what life is going to look like for the two of you.

— jun

both having a busy schedule, you recently told jun you missed having a proper dinner together and it’s given him the best idea for your anniversary: a nice dinner together without the practical difficulties of going to a fancy restaurant. when you come back home that evening, you find your place tastefully decorated with various candles, flowers and fairy lights. as for jun, he’s done his hair the way you like it best, dressed in an outfit you love, wearing the same perfume from when you first started dating. with a sheepish smile, he guides you to the balcony where the table is set, revealing the stunning city view from your apartment.

— hoshi

his plan for today is to make you feel as loved as ever, and that requires day-long dedication, starting with mandatory prince.ss treatment all morning. around 11, he tells you it’s “time to go” although you still have no idea what he’s talking about. but a 45 minutes drive later, you can make out the blueish color of the sea in the horizon. with him by your side, you know it won’t be just any beach day: picnic on the sand, a long walk along the shore spent saying “look, it’s us!” when you see two relatively close rocks, and most of all, soaking up the sun together in the water, all while being that clingy couple who cannot stop swooning over each other.

— wonwoo

this morning, wonwoo wakes up particularly early to cook breakfast for the both of you. you’re already awake by the time he’s done, but he looks so adorable trying to balance the tray while opening the door with his foot that you pretend like you’re still asleep. later, he surprises you with a gift which looks… a bit odd. you didn’t really expect a QR code. but you scan it anyways, and then everything starts to make sense: the QR code brings you to a website, a shelter website more specifically. “are we…”, you start, a huge smile already on your lips. “going on a shelter date to get a cat? absolutely”, he replies, glad you’re enjoying his surprise as much as he hoped.

— woozi

to him, this is the perfect day to show how much your relationship means to him, because he fears you might not know it well enough (you do). so he’s got a little something prepared… the first part of his plan is to fake an apology: “i’m really sorry, i completely forgot…”. second part is to say he’ll take you to movies another day, which you accept, still half-upset. and finally, last part is to welcome you home on the d-day, takeout ready on the table but most importantly, with a homemade outdoor cinema right in your backyard. thick mattresses, fluffy pillows and a large white screen facing a brand-new projector, he went all out to make sure you feel as cherished as he always does.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!