#(or at least shoot me an ask first :/ )

[royaltea000]

[jttw swk oc children] tried out giving them some new clothes but I dunno bout this one… 🤔

Prev:

[narsh-poptarts]

Old Man* OC Poll

*"old man" being more of a vibe rather than any indication of gender

just wanted to do this for fun haha more info about these guys under the cut

Andromedus (he/she/they) - genderfluid wizard acting as (unwilling) mentor to Barnes, a young apprentice who would very much like to learn magic please. A grumpy misanthrope who loathes having to interact with other people and ESPECIALLY with other mages. She's an incredible stickler for rules and procedures surrounding magic, because they know a mistake can change the result into something unpredictable or even dangerous. Believes in the art of experimentation and doing it well. They dabble in all things potion, illusion, divination, and other Stereotypical Merlin-level Magic not specified. Despite a generally cold exterior, does have a heart of gold somewhere in there. Does genuinely care despite what most people might think, though the approach to this usually has a lack of compassion (except on rare occasions).

Belongs to my wizard+apprentice story I'm temporarily calling Cursed Apprentice (I'm so bad at titles)

Bartholemew "Art" Hykes (he/him) - chief forgemaster of the Carapace Knights, soldiers that don pieces of the large locusts and bugs that terrorize the land in an effort to fight back. The integration of these pieces into armor must be highly monitored to prevent a host take-over of the Knight, and Art is in charge of manufacturing these pieces to their perfection. Uses the nectar sourced from the Locusts to power the forges and after decades of work has gone blind from working so directly with it. A man of few words and fewer cares to give, can occasionally be found grumbling over the state of the world and how they're not ever in a position to be called "winning" against the locusts, but as long as he's got a job, there's not too much to complain about. Wishes the Carapace Knights would be a little less headstrong and worry more about how they're always at risk of being taken over by the Hive.

Belongs to my medieval dragon-slayer type story I'm temporarily calling Locust

Ulada Vertison (she/her) - one of the last remaining mechanics that has a fascination with tech from the old world and is willing to tinker with it along with the new. Was the one to repair the Robot and give it the ability to interact with the rest of the new world and sent it on its way. Has a penchant for stupid jokes and "positive attitudes", much to her assistant's chagrin. Approaches most things like a mad scientist with too much time on their hands and the soul of an old woman. (That is, diving head-first into experimental technology with a grin and emerging out the other side pinching the "experiment's" cheeks and checking to see if it eats enough). On the shorter side of stature, but that's okay, her large assistant has more than enough height for the two of them, he can be the one to fetch the stuff on the upper shelves (and the lower shelves, and the stuff from across the room, and hey also sweep the floor. She's got a bad back, don't you know!)

Belongs to my scifi post apocalyptic robot story I'm temporarily calling Mezzanine

[wutheringmights]

jsyk my best friend told me that when CTB ends, they’ll book bind the whole thing for me (all ~3-4 volumes that would probably take), and I told them, ofc, that they can’t be saying shit like that to me or else I’ll have to marry them

i hope you have a sufficient dowry that you will give your future bride as well

[fure-dcmk]

OP HOW ARE WE FEELING....... THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS ALL AROUND...... genuinely distraught... someone take dcmk away from gosho fr...

sorry anon the tone of this ask are not specifically directed to you, its more to the general KS posts i've been seeing on my fyp

don't plan to address this since im not even a KS account but i'm starting to get peeved seeing a bunch of ppl act victimized like gosho did that cuz he personally hates KS shippers

i'm a huge gosho aoyama hater myself but come on that man probably thinks there's nothing wrong with first cousin dating in the first place (addendum one: shuake, addendum two: hanzawa love interest being his own countryside cousin) i'd even dare to say based on his unintentional world view its him encouraging KS shippers instead

for this account i'll make sure to tag any future KS to avoid icking those bothered by the reveal but for the record any KS made by me are not closely related

[mejomonster]

if u go onto r/conservatives subreddit it is. a trip how differently some people think

[dayurno]

general hcs for aftg zombie apocalypse? me i think kevin would try to be leader but unfortunately no one would listen to him/take him seriously :(

now i think if we’re talking like a few years into the apocalypse then it gets interesting like how the characters would change physically like….and what weapons would they use!! they’d def run into people who use exy rackets as weapons and kevin would be disgusted with them i think.

i LOVE apocalypse aus but none center kevin or write him right i wanna know what you’d think he’d be like in one

SUCH A FUN ASK THANK YOUUUUUUU! first of all your idea for kevin is so funny i have to concede. its true no one would care for him at all even if he tries.... honestly though (thinking hard) i think what kevin lacks in leader charisma he makes up for in the department of giving the rest of the group a Reason To Live and creating schedule and purpose where there is neither, so maybe he ummm...... well he's not gonna be the leader of the pack but he can be like the mascot. the shiny thing to cling to. you know what i mean. kevin's indomitable human spirit!

not to be guy who is kandreil pilled but i do think kevin would be very important for andrew and neil to live beyond the survival! i will put a dollar in the kevin day bird motif jar for this but in a way hed be like their little canary in a coal mine... while the crew travels i think kevin would be the one to point out the scenery or the bits of history along or to go over peoples houses and find pieces of life that are useful and maybe even endearing. and yeah hed hate the racquets as weapons! the complaining and the grumbling about it is not as annoying as andreil thought it would be (they are pleasantly surprised kevin still has it in him to care about anything)

AHHH sorry u asked for fun hcs and i gave you a long poem about kevin day being everyones special little boy lets see hmmm... of course andrew has the knives but i think he would eventually pick up something more violent as the world falls deeper in despair. a mallet perhaps? a hammer? something heavy! neil would i think do well with a gun and not actual hand to hand combat, sniping behind them....... i think kevin would also have a weapon of sorts something like a switchblade or a baseball bat. non-lethal but definitely harmful

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

What if the Tails Polycule managed to stop nine from enacting his plan at the end of the series and Nine joining the polycule.

Interesting...👀👀👀

Okay so, just to warn you before you begin reading, I have some things I need to unpack and talk about first before I can answer this question. With that, the post itself will probably be long, so I'm putting my answer/thoughts under the cut

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So given that the au as it is doesn't stray too far from Sonic Prime canon, the "polycule" at that time would just Mangey and Sails (who wouldn't officially be together yet in the actual au) as Tails is where the rest of the og cast is.

To answer this ask, there are two things I need to tackle

Nine's plan at the end of Sonic Prime. What was that exactly?

How would the story of Sonic Prime need to change for there to be a focus on Mangey and Sails specifically "stopping" Nine? (As this au takes place post canon and is largely compliant with the og series before that point, more drastic divergences from canon are like a spin off concept for this au)

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Starting with Nine's plan, I think there's an important distinction to make between "Nine's plan" and "how things became exacerbated by the war"

Nine's original plan as of Season 1 was to spend his time crafting the Grim into a home with Sonic. In episode 6 of that season, he expresses that he doesn't care about what's going on in the other shatterspaces like New Yoke. He says he wants to create a perfect world, but we see that he'd only ever wanted to exert control over the Grim (not New Yoke, not the whole shatterverse). Given that he never seeks out any other shards aside from the two he already had until after the chaos council captures him and a shard, and also given the speech he gave to Sonic in ep 6, Sonic was the last component to his plan. Had Sonic chosen to stay with him in Episode 6 in the Grim, the two (under his plan) would merely have used the two prism shards to shape the world into a home and live there alone together.

After being captured by the Chaos Council in Episode 6, Nine had to alter his plan. One of the main reasons he and Sonic had partnered up to gather the shards at this time was to keep them out of the hands of the Chaos Council. The Chaos Council having an ounce of shard energy and access to the whole shatterverse was a very dangerous prospect, and with all the ways they fucked up the shatterspaces and contributed to reality beginning to fall apart (after their portal stunt), the show shows us exactly what Sonic and Nine had to fear in regards to the Council having any shards (much less the completed prism). Now, as we can see from Nine's words during episode 7 to Sonic and during the season finale, he'd assumed that after getting all the shards, the two of them would return to the Grim to build their new world. I think it's safe to say Nine's plan by Season 2 was to gather all of the shards to keep them out of the Chaos Council's hands (and keep them from exerting control over the whole shatterverse), complete the prism so he could fix the damage to the shatterverse's reality, and then use prism energy so he and Sonic could continue the original plan of crafting their new world/home. The end goal is the same as the original plan, Nine is home and closed off from the rest of the shatterverse, and Sonic is there with him.

His plan changes again after the Season 2 finale. Remember that in that finale, Nine also feels as if it's Sonic who betrayed him. He thought Sonic was just using him as a replacement for Tails and just using him to get to the paradox prism, which he'd then use to try to bring back Green Hill and his original friends without any regard for how that would impact Nine's existence. For Nine this is a moment of finding out someone he cares deeply about wasn’t the kind of guy he thought he was, and perhaps never liked him exactly for who he was. The first thing Nine does after completing the prism is not to get ready to exert control over the shatterverse though. Instead, he builds himself a citadel to stay in with the prism, and he sets up a large force field immediately afterwards. The first thing he does is take the first step into turning the Grim into a home, and he puts up walls/sets up defenses so no one can intrude on it. The only thing that changes from his original plan is that he takes Sonic out of it. And his setting up of defenses immediately speaks to two things. The first is him literally walling himself off from anyone as a reaction to opening his heart up to one person (Sonic) only to get betrayed (from his pov), a physical representation of him closing his heart off again. The second is because he's not an idiot. He knows that even if he's the only one with a source of prism energy, Sonic could come after him and try to get the prism. After all, Sonic expressed that he and Shadow had their own plan for using it (one that could potentially result in his erasure). So immediately at the start of S3 after the S2 finale, Nine's plan is literally: "Secure my safety so no one can take the prism, create my home, fix the reality issues, live here alone."

His plan shifts again when the Grim starts to decay, to which he seems frustrated that this is happening, since he was sure the prism was completed (perhaps implying that he'd assumed the decay of reality would cease when the paradox prism was complete). A major shift in his plan has to occur here, as he can't have his home intact (much less keep his defenses up) if the entirety of reality shatters/collapses/what have you. And so Sonic re-enters the plan when Nine realizes how he can fix reality. Keep in mind, this is a moment where emotions are already high. The "betrayal" happened not too long ago, he doesn't feel great about Sonic, he was already afraid his world would be taken from him, and now he needs to fix reality as fast as possible so anything can continue to exist. So, here's his new plan by the end of episode 1 of season 3: capture sonic, drain Sonic's energy to fix reality and the Grim, use the paradox prism to keep up his force field, continue to use the prism to build his new world, be alone (aside from the robots he created as "friends"). At this point he is still not planning on exerting control over the shatterverse or messing with the other shatterspaces. He's sticking to his original plan and prioritizing his existence.

And then the plan from there undergoes impromptu changes as the situation in season 3 continues to worsen, which leads us into "how things became exacerbated by the war".

First, Shadow throws Sonic out of the Grim, so Nine takes the first step to extend his plan outside the Grim (Which, again, he hadn’t done since the s2 finale and hadn’t planned to do). Keeping himself in the safety of his defenses, he sends Alpha Grim Birdie and the Grim Birdies to retrieve Sonic. At this time it's worth mentioning that no one knows what Nine's actual plans are (the ones he's had the whole series), despite Nine telling them to Sonic's face in Episode 6 of the series, and Sonic won't figure out his plans until the series finale. So although Sonic spends season 3 not having given up on Nine's ability to change his mind, pretty much everyone is under the assumption that Nine is in it for the power to bend the shatterverse to his will (despite signs the audience can see that this is not the case). This is why Sonic himself refuses to give his energy to Nine, because he cannot trust blindly (or without a deal) that Nine will choose to preserve the other shatterspaces and won't put people in danger for his goals.

So, when Sonic escapes to New Yoke to get help, Nine has to extend his plan from the void (where there is no one else to bother with but Sonic) to New Yoke. Part of his goal is to drain Sonic's energy to restabilize the shattervserse, so naturally he extends his gaze there for the purpose of getting Sonic specifically. It's also telling here that when Nine first makes use of his giant floating head, he uses it to talk to Sonic alone and directly. When Sonic asks if Nine was causing all the destruction, Nine takes a shot at Sonic, saying that Sonic’s concern for the shatterspaces is odd considering he only seems to care about his own home. Then, he clarifies that the breaking down of the shatterspaces had already begun due to all that the chaos council had done. Essentially, everything was already breaking down, so he was merely sapping what energy he needed from the other shatterspaces to keep the Grim from collapsing (which, while the action proves he doesn't really care about others, it's worth mentioning that it shows off just how he's prioritizing his well-being and his literal home in the face of losing his entire existence, and also isn't a conscious choice to hurt people so much as a potential result. Which...still would happen without his interferance). So, Sonic expresses "You'll have to catch me first"

Of course, with Sonic choosing to run, Nine decides to flex his power. He doesn't give Sonic ultimatums, nor does the camera focus on people Sonic cares about so Nine can strategically offer up their lives in a deal/put them in danger. Up to this point in Episode 2, the only non robot entities we've seen in New Yoke are Sonic and Nine, so Nine specifically talks up his power and makes a show of it (messing with gravity) specifically so he can convince Sonic to surrender to him (to convince Sonic that he's too poweful to oppose, so he should give up soon). Nine is quite literally acting to mess with the other shatterspaces the bare minimum he feels like he needs to to keep his home intact and to capture Sonic for his plan.

But then, Nine's show of power happens to put an innocent bystander in visible danger.

(Yes. Nine makes this EXACT face in s3 e2 when he realizes that an innocent was caught during that show of power. He is surprised, here. Like he didn't expect it or didn't realize his deed would have hurt someone. And it is worth noting that while Nine is pretty much always fine keeping to himself and not bothering with other people's problems as long as he keeps himself isolated, he does have a reaction when he can see his actions potentially put a person in danger)

So, Nine realizes has to shift his plan (since he's accidentally involved others he can see), and Sonic saves that innocent. This is where Nine consciously decides to involve other people in his plan, and he only does this for a couple main reasons. The first is that he's already put someone in danger (and while trying to build up how powerful he is image wise he can't afford to look like he can't handle the power or that he did something accidentally) and knows that Sonic will try to save innocent people in front of him. The second is specifically because he can trust that Sonic is fast enough to save anyone here. Essentially, Nine's plan here is quite literally to either tire Sonic out or put enough people in danger that it convinces Sonic to give himself up for their sake. He is resting on the fact that Sonic will save them all, and the moment that he can't is the moment Sonic gives himself over. He does not have to deal with the moral dilemma of possibly harming an innocent person, because under this plan no innocents can possibly meet their doom. It is still all about getting Sonic by involving the outside world to the bare minimum to achieve this.

And this new plan fails to force Sonic to give up for the sake of the innocents because the other variants show up to help, meaning that Nine has to shift his plan once again. His hold over the prism energy also fails for a moment. So this does stop him from messing with gravity during this portion, but I should mention that once he regains control over the prism energy again, he never again tries that exact same stunt (messing with gravity and putting people in danger). Nine sends the Grim Birdies into New Yoke after Sonic specifically (to bring him back alive). Sonic flees into the city so as to not put others in danger, and, as commanded, the Grim Birdies go after Sonic specifically. They (and Nine by extension) do not go out of their way to attack or pursue anyone who is not Sonic.

But of course chasing Sonic down with Grim Birdies isn't working. He just keeps running and getting back up, so Nine flexes his power once more (with the intent on forcing Sonic to surrender). Nine commands Alpha Grim Birdie to go for the Yoke. Which, despite still not having commanded it to attack/seek anything other than Sonic, it is a clear signal from Nine. "Surrender, or everyone else is put in danger. Can you really save them all?" It does not matter if Nine is bluffing or not. But, Nine is still doing the bare minimum. After all, despite the threat, the moment Sonic reaches the Yoke, the Grim Birdies surround him (and target only him) once more. Nine employs more language, trying to make Sonic feel powerless and alone so he'll give in. He still is not involving others outside of Sonic if he isn't required to. Heck, the Grim Birdies still haven't even attacked anyone other than Sonic, despite the fact that other people have entered Nine's view.

And what happens when the chaos council enters the arena? The Grim Birdies all pause, and they look just as surprised at this turn of events as Sonic does. They don't go to immediately attack the council either. In fact, their first moves upon being blasted at by Dr. Done It are to defend themsleves, and it's a long period before they decide to fight the council. But, again, only because the council are fighting them. They're defending themselves so they can go back to retrieving Sonic. They aren't going out of their way to fight innocents. And while Dr. Deep so confidently states that New Yoke city will fall apart if they don’t stop Nine, it's still worth mentioning just how much Nine has avoided messing with anyone outside of Sonic, how he's still only been drawing as much power from the other shatterspaces required to keep his home from falling apart, and that everything is already falling apart without Nine's interference because of the Chaos Council.

And Nine's only interference here is to again use his words to try to convince Sonic to give up, that it's not worth him continuing to try to stop him. We know later in the series that Nine could have made a multitude of grim robots to overwhelm Sonic and everyone else, but he's still doing the bare minimum with 3 grim birdies. He doesn't even give commands to the birds to do anything other than what they're already doing, which is defending themselves so they can fulfill the command to go after Sonic.

And then, Nine loses control of the prism, visibly loses control over his image, and beholds the decay of his home once more as his protective wall flickers in and out of existence. His Grim Birdies are down, the situation is getting worse, and Sonic is in the middle of a large building. So, Nine shifts his plan once more, starting to get more desperate. He puts on a great image. For the first time, he purposely appears for the whole shatterspace to see, bringing dark storm clouds with him to bolster his image. And he strikes the Yoke with one great blast of lighting. But then, after the council makes it clear that they'll all be in great great danger if Nine strikes them with another blast (the building collapsing), Nine chooses instead to make a speech. Though we can see the storm clouds produce lighting (which pointedly doesn't strike anything in particular) he doesn't finish the job. He specifically announces that nothing will stop him from getting to Sonic, and he sends the repaired Grim Birdies after the Yoke (presumably to retrieve Sonic and only retrieve him). In fact, pointedly, despite having all the time in the world to charge up a devastating lighting strike, Nine waits with gritted teeth for his Birdies to infiltrate the Yoke to get Sonic, and he only releases another lightning strike (which isn't presented as a huge moment like before) upon the force field with intent to make an opening. He continues to only focus on Sonic, only put people as in danger (but not actually harmed) as needed to get to Sonic, and presents himself as a powerful being to intimidate everyone into giving up. And Nine desperately tries to take down that force field.

So, Nine is forced to switch plans again after the barrier is put up and it's clear that he can't pierce it. Now, the end of Episode 2 seems to imply that Nine's plan is to put the citizens of No Place in jeapoardy so Sonic will leave his precious dome to come save them, but this is not exactly the case. Nine does not actually intend on putting the No Place gang in danger and forcing Sonic to come to the decaying No Place to save them. As No Place and the Grim are decaying (again showing us why Nine would grow more desperate, towards the beginning of Season 3 Episode 3, he asks the Grim Birdies to bring the pirates in No Place to him. This scene presents it as Nine finally becoming desperate enough to outright use people as an ultimatum but as prisoners. He was never intending on attacking them in No Place to draw Sonic in. In other words, Nine's new plan to draw Sonic to him was to save the No Place citizens, bring them alive to the Grim, and for Nine to force Sonic to come to him to get them. Nine explicitly was going to save the pirates and use them just as much as needed to get Sonic.

And what does Nine do when Sonic and the others go to No Place while Nine is already intending on capturing the pirates alive?

He calls them fools. This was not the preferred turn of events I would say.

Of course, Sonic being there in No Place forces Nine to change his plans again. This is the first time during the whole season Nine has explicitly directed his Grim Birdies to attack innocents rather than either to attack Sonic or to make Sonic afraid that they would attack innocents. Nine was planning on saving them before, but now that his previous plans are dashed (and everything is rapidly decaying everywhere), he truly shows that he's willing to do anything to get to Sonic or to get Sonic to surrender.

Although, of course, once the pirates are "safely" inside the Kracken and Sonic is outside, the Grim Birdies go back to prime directive 1 of trying to get Sonic.

In any case, with desperation rising, Nine laser focuses in on getting Sonic no matter the cost. He literally announces that he won't let Sonic escape no matter what, because he needs him to "finish the Grim". Despite the fact that he's opened up his plans to purposesly put people in danger if it means getting Sonic (no matter the cost), he is still only focused on fixing reality and finishing his world. His plans may be shifting, but his original plan to finish the Grim still remains. As tensions rise, he still is only interacting with the other shatterspaces and messing with other people as needed to get Sonic specifically, and has not announced any plan to take the whole shatterverse for himself. Also, as we can see with the scene where Sonic almost falls off the Kracken, the Grim Birdies still take any chance they can (where Sonic is alone or vulnerable) to take him away rather than attack anyone else.

Nine would be forced to change his plan once more after Sonic and the rest escape from No Place, but it's actually Sonic who calls Nine to appear in New Yoke again. No Grim Birdies flying around, no storm clouds and lightning, no smiles and the maintaining of a huge powerful image. When Nine appears to Sonic, it's just Nine's giant head appearing where he can look Sonic eye to eye, and he accepts every condition Sonic throws at him without question. Because in the end, all he wants is to get Sonic and to live safely in his new home. He allows Sonic to come to him, in the safety of his dome, face to face (very very vulnerable for Nine at this moment), and he no longer focuses on the other shatterspaces or trying to purposely put other people in danger. To Nine in this moment, his plan has finally succeeded. He has Sonic, so he no longer has to concern himself with anything other than stabilizing the shatterverse and finishing his home.

Although he does stalls for time despite them pointedly being close to running out of it, trying to speak to Sonic more even after Sonic suggests they get this over with and Nine drain him.

In fact, Nine makes this explicitly clear. Once Sonic takes a second to ask how he knows he can trust Nine will keep his promise, Nine says he'll have the power to restore everything with Sonic’s energy, and that as long as everyone else leaves him alone, everyone else can have their "silly lives in their silly spaces". He has no reason, as long as they don't intrude on his home, to attack them or endanger their existences.

But then everyone else quite literally intrudes on Nine's space. They breach his protective walls in a moment of great vulnerability (emotional and literal) for Nine, and he begins to visibly start panicking.

And the situation gets exponentially worse from here. The fact that existence is collapsing and the Grim is tearing apart (with it eventually being all that's left of the shatterverse), added with the fact that both parties know there's very little time before everyone loses and existence as they know it is gone, tensions just grow worse and worse.

The war at the end of Sonic Prime is not a war about beating the bad guy to restore reality. It's a war about who gets to preserve their existence.

Sonic aside, the variants don't trust Nine. They have reason to fear that if Nine drains Sonic's energy, he'll use his power to retaliate against them all after fixing reality. I'm sure their best case scenario is that Nine torments them with the prism energy, and their worst case scenario is that Nine erases them, leaving only himself and the Grim in the entire shatterverse.

Likewise, Nine has no reason to trust them either. We can visibly see as tensions get worse over the war, just how willing multiple characters are to wail on Nine the moment they get a chance, who want to destroy him, who would enjoy a chance to torture him or "make him pay". And to Nine, on top of everything in existence rapidly collapsing, the entire war is happening in his safe space, behind the walls he tried to put up to keep everyone out, becoming smaller and smaller. As he becomes more and more cornered, how can Nine trust losing the war means his existence will be preserved either? At best, after restoring the shatterverse completely, the variants will likely imprison him and keep him from ever having the chance to really live again, much less in the home he desired from the beginning. At worst, they'll torture him to take out their anger (retributive justice) and/or erase his existence.

The ending of Sonic Prime does not present Nine's plan at its most pure, nor does it show his true colors. It presents a large portion of the cast at their worst, at their most angry or frustrated or afraid, with Nine and Sonic specifically being at their most exhausted. At some point it becomes a no holds barred battle to live, forgetting anything else but the desperation to survive.

And if Sonic hadn't intervened at the series finale, existence would have collapsed before anyone could have won. After all, by then, the only "existence" there was even was just a small patch of the Grim that contained the citadel and just a bit outside it. Sonic himself bids everyone to recognize it.

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So, with all that being said, what's the tldr? What are the common threads? What is Nine's plan?

Nine's plan always involved creating a home for himself in The Grim, away from everyone else. Even as his plan changes and shifts, that he wants to live and to control only the Grim while everyone else lives as they are (leaving him alone) is a constant. The other common thread is that he only opens up his plans and lightens up on his morals in his desperation. At his most clear in the head, he doesn't like to put others in danger or to mess with other shatterspaces without reason. And multiple other characters are willing to give into their worst emotions and be just as desperate as Nine is when their very existence is at stake.

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I think it's clear that in an au where Mangey and Sails wanted to stop Nine and save him, they wouldn't be wanting to stop his actual plan. Just like Sonic, if any of them knew his actual plan, they would take a different approach. They wouldn't want Nine to lose his home, and they'd want Nine to be able to have one for himself.

And this leads me to the second point I set out to tackle.

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How would the story of Sonic Prime need to change for there to be a focus on Mangey and Sails specifically "stopping" Nine?

Okay, so for starters, the two would need to care about Nine. While Mangey and Sails aren't initially antagonistic towards Nine when they first see him in Prime S2, the fact that they don't really interact with him before S3 occurs is a big catalyst as to why there aren't mutual positive feelings to start out with. If they were neutral to him before, it's understandable why they'd dislike him during the events of S3.

For them to care about Nine, they'll most likely need to spend some time with him. We've seen with the other variants (especially the Roses), that prolonged contact with each other and the ability to interact in a more positive manner gives them the chance to care about each other, even if they had bad first impressions to start out with. Given that Sails and Mangey don't go outside of their shatterspaces before S3 and don't really meet each other, the best way to do this would have to have Nine meet them.

Perhaps the simplest way I'd achieve this within canon would be by making Nine have some misadventures in the shatterspaces, preferably after he leaves New Yoke for the first time. The idea is that instead of coming across the Grim first, he at least hits Boscage Maze and No Place before reaching it. Here, for some reason or another, Nine would be stuck for a period of time before he can exit the shatterspace, and would end up interacting with Mangey and Sails in particular on this journey. No matter the first impressions, the prolonged contact and chance to get to know and care about each other would serve to get Mangey and Sails to baseline see Nine as an acquaintance or friend.

But the real hurdle is Nine caring about them. Even if the two can interact with Nine in such a way where they like him to any extent, this doesn't guarantee that Nine will like them enough to deeply care about or trust them.

So, how do you make Nine care for someone's well-being in specific? Well, there really is only one example we can look to. While there are people that Nine are neutral to, and plenty of people he doesn't like as well, he's a pretty closed off guy. The only person that he's ever let into his heart is...

Sonic.

And Sonic is also the only person, even up til the series finale, who was willing to believe in Nine in any capacity, and who advocated for Nine to be able to live the life he wants alone.

So here's what it comes down to. Let's say that Mangey and Sails have spent enough time with Nine that they like him a lot and wouldn't easily believe that he's just some evil fox. Let's say Nine lets them into his heart.

Well, for Nine to be able to care that much about them, here's the main thing that have to change. Bonding moments would have to occur that would allow Nine to be willing to let them into his heart and willing to believe in them (as he did Sonic). And honestly, if this did happen before the ending of Season 1, I'd almost guarantee you that Nine would also ask the two of them to join them in the Grim as he did with Sonic. Nine wants to be alone in his new home save the only people he likes and trusts not to hurt him. But again keeping in mind that Sonic is the only person, even through to Season 3, who Nine can be vulnerable around, they would have to be on the same level of care he has for Sonic. He would have to be able to be vulnerable around them as well.

So, in the interest of not delving too deep into it, this is the concensus. For Mangey and Sails not simply just want to stop Nine's perceived plan to exert control over the shatterverse (not his actual plan to save his home for himself), but also want to save Nine, they have to interact with Nine more and grow to care about and trust him. For them to succeed in stopping the fighting, convince both parties to stop fighting, and save Nine from a terrible fate, they either need to replace Sonic's role, or to share Sonic's role in relation to Nine. While there's a chance of the variants listening to Mangey and Sails, especially if they put themselves physically in the way as Sonic did in the last episode and mandate it, Nine would not also listen to them the same as he eventually does for Sonic if he doesn't hold them in his heart the same/a similar way as he does Sonic.

ㅤ

So, finally, the original question. Apologies for taking so long to get here.

"What if the Tails polycule managed to stop Nine from enacting his plan at the end of the series and Nine joining the polycule."

Well, sadly I must admit that there aren't many options. Even if they managed to convince everyone (Nine and all the variants) to play nice early on, there are only two options going forward until everyone is able to replicate intershatterspace travel again.

Mangey and Sails choose to stay with Nine in the Grim (unlikely. Even if they care deeply for Nine, just as Sonic they already have homes and friends that they wouldn't just want to leave)

Mangey, Sails, and Nine bittersweetly part ways, each returning to their own shatterspace home of choice. (More likely. Again, like with Sonic, Nine wouldn't be able to expect them to leave their homes and friends to live in an empty world with just Nine)

In the end, no matter what, when the paradox prism is completed, reality restored, and the shatterspaces rebuilt, without shard energy, no one will be able to move between shatterspaces for a time.

Not all is lost though. If the three of them really did manage to build a polycule by then and Nine had spent sufficient time working on such a thing, I'd say that in such an au Nine could potentially craft communication devices that would allow them to talk or send messages despite being worlds apart. So, while bittersweet, in an au such as this, at least the three would be able to converse with each other despite being separated for a time.

And then, given this au of an au would inevitably go a similar route as the actual au, they would be able to meet again someday! I'm sure that in this au of an au it would be very heartfelt

[beastking-golion]

Finished my run of Mortum’s romance and.

[sinhasfluffyheadfur]

oc references I made for my artfight!! rubbing my hands together evilly

[geddy-leesbian]

my mom is going to bed and I still really feel like working on that Luis having to mercy kill Leon thing so now I am free to do so without being questioned about why I'm crying :)))

[gothamphantomgoat]

[unproduciblesmackdown]

yeah speaking of the most personal instrument of death / brutal vengeful catharsis gay sex foil confrontation. the musician gets got by lo cocodrilo? respectively, give him a kiss

[aesethewitch]

When I was a kid, we moved into a house that had a huge lilac tree out front. It was mostly rotten, and it needed to be taken down before it fell. It took a while, but eventually, it was gone.

Mostly. A couple years later, little lilac babies popped out of the ground in its place. My mom was determined to get rid of them, because she'd planted a beautiful flower garden there, and the lilac trees would overshadow and kill the whole garden. I insisted on saving at least a few saplings. She said fine, but I had to dig them out and put them in pots myself.

So, I did. I spent days digging little lilac bushes out of the ground and putting them into pots. Some couldn't be saved, but some could. When all was said and done, I had five brand-new lilac saplings. Seven or eight years old, and it was my absolute pride and joy.

Three died due to sun scorching, severe drought that no amount of watering could save, and perhaps just being moved from their place in the ground. But two survived, and I was awfully proud of them! I'd go out and talk to them every single day. I watered them by hand and made sure they were fertilized properly. I learned all about their favored environments, and I was determined to make sure they lived.

One of my mom's friends saw what I was doing with the lilacs. She asked if she could have one to put in her backyard, and I agreed on the condition that she take very, very good care of it.

It's now fucking enormous. I'm talking ten feet tall and bursting with beautiful purple flowers every spring. My mom still gets updates each year as they start to bloom, which she forwards to me. And all I can think is, "That's my friend! Thriving some twenty years on, there it is."

The other tree nearly died, too. It lived in a pot for far, far too long. I wanted to plant it somewhere in my parents' yard, but my mom was reluctant. Eventually, we agreed to put it in the far back garden. It grew okay for many years, despite the shade, but in all these years, it's never bloomed.

Last year, the massive tree casting massive shadows over the lilac and the garden cracked in half and fell. It tumbled into the garden, crushing part of the nearby shed and destroying a few plants beneath it.

It missed my lilac by inches.

The clean-up is long done. The rest of the tree has been cut down, and my lilac has full sunlight for the first time in fifteen years. It won't bloom this year, I know. But it's got new shoots up. It's taller than ever. I spent half an hour a few weeks ago praising it for surviving all this time, dreaming about its future and telling it how I believe it'll become the tall beauty it's always been meant to be.

I think next year, I'll see flowers.

[murderofravens]

DUSK TILL DAWN

pairing: hwang inho/young-il/frontman x fem reader.

part: 1/3 [finished]

warnings: age gap (reader is 20, inho is in his late 40s) slowburn. oral fixation. thigh riding. plot with porn. yearning. sexual tension. canon compliant. slight infantilization. no y/n used.

summary: he promised that you will make it out alive. he will make sure of it, no matter what it takes.

word count: 6.5k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

please ignore any mistakes.

as you wipe the blood from your face, the reality of your situation sets in. you never thought you'd get used to the smell of blood— much less the sight of it. or the texture. and now you're covered in it. the white of your uniform splattered with crimson, the metallic smell of it almost overwhelming. in a situation like the one you're in, you can only laugh. the mere sight of blood used to make you feel faint; make you want to throw up because you're squeamish. now you're covered in it from head to toe.

it's not yours. it's of the people they shot dead during the second game.

you barely remember how you made it out alive. the second one was all thanks to your team— thanos and nam-gyu were the closest to your age, and teaming up with them worked in your favour. your age and gender was a liability to the others, but they were kind enough to take you in. or perhaps they were thinking with their dicks. would it really matter either way?

but with the way they act, you're not sure if you want to continue being in a team with them. especially since thanos keeps trying to woo you with his poor rapping skills. they're way too loud and reckless for you, and you're scared they might get you killed. they're not willing to give up the game anytime soon, either.

then there's the first game— you're alive, because of 456. that crazy man who supposedly had played the games before. if it wasn't for him pulling you behind his back, you would've left the premises in a cardboard box. especially because you fucking sneezed as soon as the doll turned back.

since then, you've decided you don't want to play this game anymore. 456 has been desperately trying to change the other's mind— but they're greedy and insistent. you pressed the cross for his sake, and for the others, and for yourself. hell, you can live in debt, but what use is that money if you die trying? you're not that much of a hard worker. you value your life above anything else.

you walk over to their team— 456, and his two loud team members. another man is sitting there— player 001. the one who ruined your chance of going home on the first vote. he seems ordinary, but you know of him because you saw him beat the shit out of thanos. that was another reason you decided to abandon that team— you could not be seen with a bully, or a loser. as you approach him, you give him a slight nod of acknowledgement, which he returns. you turn your attention to 456, and thank him profusely for what he did for you. he's kind, you'll give him that. you like kind people.

"if you don't mind me asking—" a voice interrupts, and you look over your shoulder. it's player 001. he looks at you curiously. "how old are you?"

"old enough." you retort cheekily. he doesn't look amused as he cocks his head to the side.

"i'm curious as to why a little kid like you would compromise herself for money."

that shuts you up. you're offended, to say the least. who is he to call you a little kid? the entire team also looks on, seemingly baffled. the question makes sense. you're sure you're the youngest out of all players. and people can tell because you look it too. you don't really know how to respond, so you just look on with a frown, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"forgive me—" he lets out an awkward chuckle, "i didn't mean it the wrong way. i'm just worried."

you give him an uneasy smile, rubbing the back of your neck. the others go back to their conversations, and you shrug. he shoots a glance towards gi-hun before sitting back down and shifting slightly, as if making room for you. you take a seat beside him. there's silence before he glances at the symbol on your jacket— the cross.

"i'm sorry." he says with a small smile, looking straight ahead, "you wanted to go home but you had to continue because of me. i put a kid in danger."

"i'm not a kid," you huff softly, straightening up, "i'm twenty. but yeah, you should be sorry."

you give him a small smile to ensure he knows that the last line is lighthearted. he seems to understand and returns it.

"dont worry about it," you sigh, fiddling with the zip of your jacket, "im sure you had your reasons. just like i have mine for coming here."

"and your parents?" he asks. he's so polite, it warms your heart. polite and soft spoken. and visibly tough. probably some officer, you think, judging by his skills you previously saw.

"that's what i need the money for." you sigh, leaning back against the bunker. "i need enough money to establish myself. continue my studies. bring my mom and my sister to come live with me. settle off my father's debts because he's a coward who decided to pass down his sins onto his daughter."

he raises his eyebrows, and you take a sharp breath. there's a moment of silence between you two— you think for a moment, and feel your eyes get slightly glassy. you're not going to cry in front of a stranger. you put on a brave face. "if i die here, my mother—"

he stares at you silently, before putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, interrupting your cursed sentence. "you'll make it out alive."

the doors open, and the staff comes in again. they reveal the number of players left, showcase the money that each person would get, and then the voting starts again.

this time, player 001 doesn't disappoint you. he goes first, and clicks on the cross. the hope it gives you eventually shatters as more and more players begin to vote in favour of continuing the game. you see 456 get increasingly agitated as he begins to make his way towards the front of the crowd. before he can speak, he's interrupted.

001's voice rings out loud and authoritative, and worried. he reprimands the voters in favour, calls them out on their selfishness.

"we'll all die if we keep playing!" he chastises the crowd urgently. "you have to survive first, or there won't be a next step—"

"there's no next step for us!" he's interrupted by player 100. a stout old man who had been at odds against 456 since the start— you remember him having 10 billion won in debt. it makes you snicker. he eggs on the crowd. "with that money, we won't be able to pay our debts. we need to play one more game, then the money will increase to 240 million. with that we can pay atleast a little of our debts! isn't that right!?"

"you're going to die trying!" you snap, making your way to the front of the crowd. you glare at player 100, at all his little supporters cheering at the back. "your greed is going to get you killed. how can you be so confident to say that you'll survive the next game? what if you die?"

"you shut up, young lady!" he hisses, mouth scrunching bitterly. "is that how you speak to your elders? your brain is too small to comprehend real life problems. we can't continue with our lives with that little money!"

"continue your lives?" a laugh bubbles out of your throat. "look at that greying head of yours, you barely have a life ahead of you! why don't you let us live ours?!"

that seems to have ticked him off, because he quite literally turns red as he takes a threatening step towards you.

"what did you just say?"

"i said—" you step forward, shooting him a challenging glare, "you're too old to be playing children's games. vote wisely and let us go home."

he lets out a snarl before trying to lunge at you, but you're pulled back as player 001 steps between the two of you. like a wall. he looks at the old man, eyes cold, his voice low. "that's enough."

since the incident with thanos, nobody has really tried anything with 001. it's obvious enough they're intimidated by him, and they don't want to be on the receiving end of his wrath. 100 doesn't either, with the way he collects himself and steps back, embarrassed. you look over 001's shoulder, make eye contact with the old man and shoot him a taunting smile. you know it's childish, but you've resented him from the start.

before the old man can say anything, player 001 drags you to the side where you can't argue with people anymore. and the voting continues.

"you can't talk to people like this," he says lowly, gaze focused on the crowd. staring at something that you can't figure out. "you never know what they might do."

you huff bitterly. you know what he means.

"i don't care. i fucking hate bullies."

"potty mouth." he chastises, but theres a smirk on his face. he's teasing. you chuckle.

"remember you need to get out of here alive." he repeats, looking at you with an intensity that is almost terrifying. "you can't do that if you keep this up."

"jeez, okay dad." you joke, rolling your eyes. your words make him smile lightly.

"thanks for having my back there." you tell him sincerely. he looks at you for a bit before nodding in acknowledgement.

the voting ends, and they announce that the games will continue tomorrow. it makes your heart drop.

that night, you feel uneasy when you try to sleep. your clothes stick to your skin, and the side of your face keeps itching. with an irritated grumble, you get off the bunker and walk over to your new friend's side. you squint your eyes before looking for 001— and when you find him, you gently shake him.

"are you sleeping?" you whisper.

he opens his eyes, wincing slightly before sitting up. his voice is hushed as he responds, "not anymore. what is it?"

you bite your lower lip nervously before reluctantly asking, "will you go to the restroom with me? i'm kinda scared to go alone."

he blinks at you, confused. you continue out of sheer desperation.

"those guards just stare weirdly with their weird little masks and it makes me nervous." you hope your voice doesn't shake as you speak. "last time one of them kept knocking on the door while i was in the washroom and it just— scared the shit out of me. and my face is itching and i really need to go. please?"

he listens patiently. for a moment you think he'd decline but he just sighs and nods, and you cheer just a little as he steps out and follows you to the door. you bang on it, loudly telling the guards that you need to go. one of them opens the sliding window, and then immediately opens the door. it makes you feel strange, because usually it takes a lot more effort to convince them. either way, you're grateful.

you know your better option would've been to take one of the girls with you, but the sad fact is you haven't had the chance to get friendly with any of the female players yet. and for some reason, player 001 makes you feel a sense of safety and security that is almost strange— you feel at ease around him.

"i'll be in the men's room," he tells you, and you nod. he shoots a glance to the guard standing outside the women's restroom before walking away. you quickly go inside, and the first thing you do is splash water on your face.

you quickly clean the blood off your skin, holding back the urge to cry. you scrub at your cheeks till you're sure you can scratch the itch away for good. your nails dig a little too deep, and a little blood oozes out of the scratches on the side of your face. you clean that too, and then try to scrub the splatters of blood off your t-shirt. it's white, and you have no soap— so the stains remain. a faint reminder. you take your time, and anticipate the knocking— but it never comes.

you look in the mirror, at your tired face and sunken eyes, before giving yourself a nod and stepping out. 001 is waiting for you outside, looking to the side. he gives you an odd look as you step out, before walking alongside you.

"are you alright?" he asks gently, concerned. kind as ever.

you look at him again, give him a nod. "thank you."

when you two reach the room, he returns the smile with one of his own.

as you make your way to the bunker, he grabs your shoulder, "why don't you start sleeping on our side?" he says quietly, "join the team. there's a bed near mine. you won't feel so scared that way."

you blink, trying to see his face in the darkness. the offer is enticing— and most of all, it warms your heart.

"really?" you ask hopefully.

"really." he says kindly.

you follow him to the bunker, and he covers the railing with his hand to avoid you getting hurt as you bend down to get into the bed. he looks at the slightly wet patches on your shirt— blinks before getting a bedsheet and putting it over you. "get some sleep. we got a game to play tomorrow."

you smile softly at him. as he turns to get into his own bed, you grab his hand. it's warm against yours— big and rough. you don't allow your mind to drift that way. it's not right. he looks at you, gaze questioning.

"thanks again," you say softly, "it means a lot to me."

he leans down a little to ruffle your hair before going back to his bed and laying down. you close your eyes and drift to sleep— unaware that he stays up, thinking.

breakfast is boring— bread and milk. you sit on the bed, scowling. player 456 is surprised as he sees you there, before you two share understanding smiles. you bow a little and he bows back before going along with his friend. 001 comes to sit by you then, munching on his own breakfast.

"i miss home," you mumble, "how am i supposed to survive on just this? it's not even chocolate milk."

001 laughs, "don't worry, you can have whatever you want once you get out of here."

"will i?"

he looks at you, raising his eyebrows. you take his silence as a cue to continue, "im scared i'll die in here."

he looks down, before shifting to be closer to you. "you made it this far, didn't you?"

you look at him, voice getting shaky. "and what if i dont make it till the end? what if i die here and my family thinks i abandoned them? i don't want to die. i haven't even lived my life yet."

his expression is hard to read. "you'll make it out of here alive," he tells you with conviction, "ill make sure of it."

your lips wobble as you stare at him, and he smiles before poking you in the nose. "finish your food. you need the energy for the next game. we'll make it out alive, then we'll try to get the voters on our side and go home. sound good?"

you snort, rolling your eyes before nodding. "sounds good."

he gives you his bread then, tells you to eat more. when you protest, he sends a warning glare your way— the one with a quirked eyebrow and a knowing gaze. you roll your eyes, and happily eat it.

you were hungry. perhaps he can tell things like that. you're just grateful.

today, you decided to be a little rebellious. when you first joined the games, you used to spend a long time in the bathrooms— analyzing, looking for a way out. during that time, you'd discovered that one of the screws in the ceiling vent was loose. you hadn't really bothered checking it before, but since it's daytime and you have some time before the next game, you decide to explore.

your hairclip works— the screws were not tightly fixed, so it unscrewed easily. you'd contemplated checking it out last night, but you didn't want to take any risks, especially since player 001 was with you. so now whatever you do, the responsibility will be yours.

when the bathroom gets empty and all the women leave, you pull it down and try climbing up. it's moments like these that you can pride yourself on your agility— work that usually required two people, you could do alone. with one leg on the flush and the other on the top of the cubicle, you climbed up, scratching the side of your arm slightly before finally getting in the vents. you groaned to yourself, and then started crawling inside. there were two ways to go— you chose the left one. you looked down, trying to understand the layout of the place where you were practically held hostage. you keep crawling, making sure not to make too much noise before finally seeing a place through the gaps that you hadn't seen before— you carefully remove the screws and pull it apart.

the place looks empty. the walls are all sorts of pink and green. you put your head down and look both ways, seeing a door at the end of the hallway. carefully, you climb down and lower yourself to the ground with a thump. your shoulder hurts a little. you stand up, and aim for the door. as soon as you begin walking, you hear footsteps. it's as if someone splashed cold water on you— you realize the grave mistake you just made. guards walk here with guns, and you made the impulsive decision to explore a dangerous place like this by yourself?

you look around, running towards the other end of the hallway. the footsteps get louder, and as you look over your shoulder, something grabs you. out of reflex, you go to scream, but a hand clamps down on your mouth, and your back collides with a hard chest.

"shh, it's me." the voice hisses. your wide eyes look up, scared, before realizing who it is.

player 001.

your chest heaves as you break out into a sweat, a tear rolling down your cheek. he keeps you in a tight hold, looking to the side, your breath dampening his hand. the footsteps suddenly become faint, as if walking away. your breaths sync together, and after a moment, he relaxes.

he takes his hand off your mouth before harshly twisting you to face him. his voice is hushed but angry, "what were you thinking?!"

"what are you doing here?" you whisper shakily at the same time.

"everyone was back in the room except you. i came to find you!" he chides, eyes hard. he shakes you slightly, "do you really plan to get killed like this? is this how you want to die? can you go one moment without being a reckless brat—"

his words make you want to cower in on yourself.

"i wanted to find a way out." you try to sound assertive, but your voice betrays you. your words come out panicked, "I wanted to help and— fuck— i got you in trouble too— you shouldn't have come looking for me! fuck— how are we gonna make it out of here?"

he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut before looking at you tiredly. "the game is about to start. we'll mix in with the crowd when they leave, i doubt they'll notice."

"are you sure it'll work?" you ask. you hear a faint announcement. the game is about to start.

he looks up at the speakers, alert. he grabs you tightly and drags you away with an air of confidence. "let's go."

you don't encounter any guards on the way back. it's strange, but you figure it's because they're all preparing for the next game. player 001's plan worked, because you two mixed in with the crowd, and the guards didn't notice. one of them turned back to look at you, and you panted, staring back at him. your heart raced, but you felt the presence of 001 next to you, and you felt at ease again. the guard looked away.

"i told you to stop being reckless." he says quietly, looking at 456 and 390, before looking back at you. your legs hurt from climbing so many stairs. "what would you have done if they found you?"

you swallow the lump in your throat, staring up at him intensely, eyes glassy. he saved your life. "i guess you stopped that from happening."

he clenches his jaw, his gaze flickering up and down your face before looking away. "i won't always be there to save you."

you look away, heart dropping. "thank you, 001."

"call me young-il."

you look up at him, blinking back tears, quirking an eyebrow as you two walk. "only if you allow me to add 'sir' at the end of it."

he chuckles, eyes crinkling. he has such a nice laugh. "why's that? respect?"

you nod, giving a little bow. "respect is very important in my culture as well. so thank you for saving my life, young-il sir."

he grins a little and pats your head. you thank him again, and decide you like him enough. so you tell him your name.

he tests it on his tongue, and you quite like the way he says it.

the next game had to be the most terrifying so far.

it was called mingle, and you had to run to the rooms in groups according to the number announced. things like these were where you got scared— where you had to group with people. in dangerous situations, you know people usually only look out for two types of people— themselves, and the ones dearest to them.

you were not dear to anyone here. you really should've interacted with more people.

the platform rotates, before the number is announced. six. your eyes widen and you frantically look around, but young-il is faster. he grabs you and drags you to the room with the rest of the team. you pant as the 30 seconds pass, and then look out the window in the door to see how many people were left— quite a few. your eyes widen as the red guards move forward with their guns raised.

young-il leaps forward and covers your eyes with his hand before pulling you into himself as the gunshots ring out— you flinch and shudder at every single one, breathing sharp and your entire frame trembling violently. when there is silence and the doors open, you look up. young-il gently lets go of you, looking around. he's panting too, and you look at him with the most crushed look on your face before he meets your gaze. he can tell what you want to know— why would you do that?

"you shouldn't have to see all this." he says quietly, adjusting his jacket and putting a little distance between you two. 456 pats your shoulder and makes sure people are okay before moving out. you just look at young-il for a while, but he simply looks around, seemingly lost in thought. as if fighting a war within himself. you wish you knew how to reassure him like he did with you, but you realize you barely know anything about him.

the entire floor is painted with blood. the sight makes you want to vomit. you walk carefully, but your foot slips in someone's blood and you begin to fall over. 456 catches you. "are you alright?"

instinctively, your gaze tries to find young-il but he's standing away. his head is lowered.

"yes, thank you." you give 456 a smile, before assuming your place on the platform again.

you play a few more rounds. you're lucky enough to have someone to team with each time— young-il and 456 don't let go of you even once. but then the voice runs out again, and they announce the number 3. this time, 456 is dragged along with the old woman and her son. you look around frantically, and meet young-il's panicked gaze with your own. you begin to run towards him, but two people grab you and drag you towards one of the rooms.

thanos and nam-gyu. you shriek at them, clawing at their arms and trying to run back out. what if young-il doesn't make it? what if something bad happens?

this time, you have no one to cover your eyes or ears. thanos and nam-gyu talk shit within themselves, and you look outside the little window, flinching with every gunshot ringing out, trying to pinpoint if it's young-il's body falling to the ground. you can't help the light sob erupting from your throat, and thanos chooses the wrong moment to come bother you.

"watcha looking for, señorita?" he laughs, poking your side, "is it your old man? did he finally—"

you turn to him and punch him in the face. he falls back and groans dramatically, rubbing the blood running down his nose. nam-gyu rushes to his rescue, giggling. they're both high as a kite. the doors open, and you rush out before they can bother you further.

you look around. 456 is with the rest of the team, but you can't find young-il. frantically, you look towards the dead bodies, heart pounding against your chest and head throbbing. suddenly, there's cheers from your team, and you look up to see young-il walking over with a bright grin on his face.

you don't know what compelled you to do it. you were acting on your emotions— overwhelmed by the relief you felt on the sight of his face. before you can even stop, you're dashing towards him and crashing into his body, wrapping your arms tightly around him.

he's shocked, that much is obvious by the way he tenses slightly. but then he returns the hug, wrapping his arms around you and placing one hand on your head, gently patting. "i told you we'd make it."

you choke on a soft sob, nodding, burying your head further into his chest, as if ready to climb inside him, "i thought you—"

he shushes you softly, voice gentle as he runs a hand through your hair. you can feel his heart racing against his chest too. you wonder if it's for the same reasons as you. "i'm okay."

you wish the game ended there. but there was one more round to go. as you rotated on the platform— the moment you were dreading finally happened as young-il predicted it. the number announced was two.

you were ready to die there. things seemed to happen in slow motion— 456 took his best friend 390, 149 was dragged by her son. you didn't get the chance to see who took who next, because young-il had grabbed your hand and was dragging you towards one of the rooms. there were only fifty rooms— the first one you two got to was taken. he dragged you to another with a mere ten seconds left.

you sighed in relief as you got in, before seeing another man was already there. he was shaking in fear, and you jumped at the harshness of young-il's voice when he ordered him to get out. when the other player refused, young-il lunged at him and put him in a headlock.

your eyes widened and you stepped forward, panic stricken but he looked right at you and called your name, "close your eyes!"

you flinched. you looked at the man, then at young-il, before squeezing your eyes shut. you slid to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest as soon as you heard a 'crack' before opening your eyes.

the player was dead. young-il cracked his neck.

the timer finished at that exact moment, and young-il crawled over to you before pulling you into his chest. the gunshots rang out, and you flinched, sobbing.

young-il killed someone.

"i had to do it," he whispered against your hair, holding your head against his chest, "we both have to make it out alive. i had to do it. you know that right?"

you wanted to believe him, you really did. but in that moment, you felt scared of him for the first time.

the doors opened, and the game finished.

while you wanted to revel in your victory, the incident during mingle had rattled you to your core. the others checked up on you, especially 388 and 456. young-il maintained some distance. you could feel like he thought it's what you wanted. but you could really use his comfort. you just don't know how to talk to him again without being nervous. you force yourself to relive your previous interactions with him— he's still the same young-il who has saved you and comforted you countless times.

he did what he had to do to ensure your survival. that wasn't something you could hold against him. not when both of your lives were on the line.

the voting this time was just as challenging. you made your way to the front of the crowd, praying that they'd choose wisely this time. you need to go home.

one of the players in the old man's team showed you the finger before clicking the 'o' button. the action made your eye twitch, and you grit your teeth before straightening up to attack that guy and scratch his face off, but a hand to your chest held you back.

if looks could kill, young-il's glare could've sent that guy home in a body bag. as the votes in favour of continuing the game increased, you pushed his hand off you and addressed the crowd, "have you all lost your fucking minds?!"

their chitter chatter stopped and they looked at you. you clench your jaw, "after losing so many people out there you still want to play? what the fuck is wrong with you people? are human lives that invaluable to you?"

player 100 steps forward, insufferable as always. "don't you see how much money we're getting for each person? it could settle our debt! we can't give up after how far we've come."

"you're gonna die!" you snap, pointing at him, "you could take this money and go home and be happy instead of risking your life for something that is not assured to you! why won't you listen?! i want to go home!"

the others in favour of terminating the game start chanting with you, a string of 'i want to go home' echoing across the room.

player 100 glares, urging his own team to chant against you. he looks towards young-il, yells something along the lines of, "look after your fucking kid!" before the barell of a gun presses against the back of your head. the whole room freezes, and so do you.

"disruptions against a democratic vote will not be excused." the robotic voice calls out. for a second you think this is it. you look at young-il. if you die here, you'd prefer the man who saved your life to be the last person you see. he glares at the guard, his jaw clenching. the guard lowers the gun and steps back and you let out a breath of relief.

you immediately saunter over to him, gritting your teeth. the vote is a tie— and they announce the next voting to be held tomorrow.

456 says there's about to be a fight. the rest of the team got busy setting up a barricade— and you didn't get the chance to talk to your player. you knew his concern though, when he made sure to especially hide your side of the bed with two mattresses.

you play with the hem of your shirt as you sit in your bed by your lonesome. your food sits by you, untouched. you dont feel like eating. the weight on the bed shifts, and young-il appears into view.

"you're not eating."

you swallow the lump in your throat. "i don't feel like it."

he contemplates, eyes lowered before he looks at you again. "im sorry you had to witness that. I don't want you to be scared of me."

you want to cry. "im not." you whisper, "you.. you had to do what you had to do. to save us."

he blinks, nodding.

"back there, i thought that was it. it's over." you chuckle bitterly. "but you saved me again. you acted on impulse. i could never resent you for it."

your eyes are bloodshot as you look at him again. fat tears roll down your cheeks, and he frowns. he sighs before leaning closer, brushing the tears away. "why are you crying?"

"i wouldn't have survived this far if it wasn't for you." you whisper, voice cracking. "promise me you wouldn't abandon me. promise me you won't die."

his gaze softens. he's silent for a bit, his hand coming to rest on your knee, "i promise."

you sniffle, wiping your tears away. a small smile appears on your face, "i punched thanos."

"thanos?" he frowns, confused before raising his eyebrows in recognition, "ah, the loud kid with the purple hair?"

you nod proudly. "he said something like 'did 001 finally die?' so i punched him."

he laughs heartily— face scrunching cutely, eyes crinkling. he shakes his head fondly before ruffling your hair again. "attagirl."

it makes you blush slightly and you smile, looking down at your lap. he grabs your dinner— the roll sitting next to you and unwraps it, taking out a piece before holding it out, "eat."

you snort before leaning forward and taking a bite. he looks at you for a while with that faraway look in his eyes, before wordlessly continuing to feed you the rest. the words go unsaid. 'what are we doing? why are we so comfortable with each other?'

some sauce sticks to the corner of your mouth. he raises his hand to hold your chin, his thumb gently wiping it off. your breath hitches.

neither of you protest when his thumb brushes across your bottom lip, gaze focused on it like he's hypnotized. he's thinking, mindlessly feeling the plush texture of it.

you've always been impulsive. especially in situations where you shouldn't be. it happens so naturally— how your lips part just slightly. and maybe he's impulsive too, because his thumb slips inside, and his breath hitches as soon as your lips wrap around his thumb.

his gaze raises to meet yours— and you blink almost dazedly. his thumb presses down on your tongue, and he calls out your name in the softest voice.

"i'm too old for you." he whispers, shaking his head in disapproval.

your eyes flutter, and you lean forward, grabbing hold of his wrist. he pulls his thumb out, and you almost whine in protest. to your utter delight, he replaces it with two of his fingers, and your eyes almost roll back as you crawl forward till you're situated on his lap, mouth stuffed with his index and middle finger. you suck on them enthusiastically. they're long and thick and perfect and you don't want them out of your mouth ever again. it elicits a soft moan out of him— and if you could put that sound on repeat for the rest of your life, you'd be happy.

he pulls his fingers out and grabs the back of your head, pulling you close till your foreheads press together. you try to lean forward, to capture his lips with your own. he chuckles slightly, eyes closed, playfully rubbing his nose against yours. you whine.

"so impatient." he whispers, and then his lips are colliding with yours. it would be embarrassing if someone were to catch you two like this— more so for him than for you. thankfully, the others are busy strategizing for the night, and are not looking for either of you.

you moan softly and he bites down on your bottom lip, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth. it's desperate and reckless and so full of spit— it makes you whimper into his mouth and he pulls you further into himself, as if telling you to shut up. his experience is obvious in the way he kisses, and you follow his lead. unknowingly, your hips start gently grinding against his thigh, and he lets out a soft hiss. he pulls away slightly, strings of saliva connecting your mouths. he licks it away.

"come on, sweetheart," he whispers, one hand coming down to help your hips grind against his thigh, "make yourself feel good— that's it, that's my good girl."

you moan softly, and his free hand clamps your mouth shut. he speeds his movement, clenching and unclenching the muscle of his thigh, guiding your hips to move faster against his lap. it's been so long since you've masturbated— and this is unarguably the hottest situation you've ever been in, with the hottest man you've ever seen. so you're already close. you cry out into his hand, your voice muffled. he understands what you mean and lets you move on your own speed then, pulling your head into the crook of his neck as he whispers soft words of praise into your ear.

the moment he calls you his good girl again, you cum. he muffles the sound with his hand, squeezing his eyes shut before he looks at you intensely. you collapse against him, slightly sweaty, your hands holding onto his shoulders as you cling to him. he runs his hand through your hair, breathing sharply. it's a small moment of bliss in the hell you've found yourself in.

soon, the lights go out, and dread settles in your stomach once you feel his body tensing. player 388 pulls one of the mattresses back slightly, hisses a quick "get under the bed!"

and the next game begins.

A/N: this was incredibly fun to write. i love writing him a little soft and fatherly, so deal with it. i might write a part 2 for this, if anyone wants that. this idea has been in my head for a while. i love him so, so much. this fic is my baby and i truly hope you guys like reading it as much as i liked writing it.

tags! @carolinevoight @lovers-roq @wildtigerlili @menabuser16 @deadlyobsessivfennec @watasinekoru @hanakokunzz @cowuies

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: implied noncon, break-up, toxic relationship, crazy ex-boyfriend, intrusive thoughts, anger issues

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about gamer boyfriend who doesn’t know what he has before it’s gone…

You told him you were leaving, but it didn’t dawn on him that’s what you’d meant. He was deep in-game—he couldn't pay attention to your whining. He figured you went out to the store or something, but later, after midnight, he realized he was hungry, and you were nowhere. Not in the kitchen making dinner, not in his bed sleeping, and not in the bathroom either. 

Did you go home? He wonders, standing alone in the dark, empty silence—feeling a little put off at the sight of his room—how even in the dim light, it’s a clear fucking mess. You usually tidy up a bit for him, but you hadn’t this time—no, there’s old underwear and socks everywhere, shirts and hoodies too, empty cans and pizza boxes. It’s a bit gross, actually, he admits while scratching his neck. 

The drawer he’d dedicated to you in his dresser is open and empty. Did you take everything to get it cleaned? You are a bit of a neat freak—unlike him. Suppose that would be something you’d do. Weird of you not to take any of his laundry as well, though.

Oh, well. He shoots you a “gn bby” on his phone, then collapses on his bed and falls asleep—smiles a bit as he does so—it’s nice not having you here to tell him to undress and go shower first. Yeah, you can be such a nag sometimes.

He wakes up late in the day. You’re not there. Usually, you come over to wake him with some breakfast. He checks his phone—you didn’t reply last night. It isn't that weird—you were probably already asleep at that point. But why didn’t you answer when you woke up? There’s no way you’re still asleep, right? 

Fuck, he’s hungry.

“gm,” he sends—contemplates asking you what’s up but doesn’t. You must be busy with something not to have checked your phone yet.

The entire day goes by, and you still don’t answer. He doesn’t take it too hard. But he won’t deny being a bit miffed.

It’s when three days go by that he’s well and truly confused. He’s sent you several texts at this point, even called you a few times, getting a little worried something had happened to you before he got the message that he’d been blocked. 

What the fuck’s going on with you?

He thinks back to the last time he saw you. What did you even say? He can’t remember. Something about being tired—something, something—I’m leaving.

He swallows thickly. No… No way, that’s what you meant, right? No, can’t be. You love him. You’re his pretty girlfriend. The one that comes with his food and later comes back for his bowl. The one that sucks his dick under his desk as he goes on a kill streak. The warm pillow he uses when he finally drags his bad posture to the bed and falls asleep.

No. Where the fuck are you? Are you sick or something? Yeah, must be, right? So delirious you’ve managed to block him somehow. You were probably only trying to call him back. You were never so tech-savvy—a fever must have worsened it. He should go to you. He can bring his pc. Or no, he can get you and bring you back here. Yeah, that would be easier.

He calls your roommate, tells her he’s coming, and asks her to let you know to get ready.

“What are you talking about?” she says through a piece of gum—her voice all dull as if bothered to have picked up the phone. Or, rather, she sounds a bit drunk. There’s music in the background. “Girl broke up with you, didn’t she?”

His blood runs cold at that. A lump forms in his throat—a thick, unmovable lump that makes him think he’s about to throw up. “N-no, she didn’t.”

“Hey!” she calls out, not to him, though—she’s covered the mic with her hand. He only hears the muted distortion of voices and bass through it before your roommate comes back to him. 

“Sorry—she’s telling me a different story,” she relays, popping her gum in his ear before sneering—or, at least, that’s what he pictures. “Honestly, how long did you think she was gonna put up with cleaning up after you anyway? I know I wouldn’t last half as long as she has.” The lump in his throat grows thicker, swelling up until it's choking him. “Anyway, good luck.”

She hangs up, and he drops his phone. There’s a crack as it hits the floor. And then something wet on his face. Something hot. Something searing as it tracks down his cheeks and drops off like acid onto the floor. 

What should he do? What do you want him to do? To tidy up? He can do that! He’s not some imbecile like your friend makes him out to be who can’t even do the basics of chores. Of course, he can! And so that’s what he does—hands shaking as he tidies. 

It feels foreign, and he’s not even sure where to start. And it quickly proves to be a lot worse than what he’d thought. Beyond stinky clothes and dirty dishes, there’s trash, rotten food, sticky surfaces, and other things he can’t even put a name to. It’s gross, actually. Downright disgusting. How long’s it been like this?

Even after everything’s put in order, there’s a smell that lingers and no end to the dust he has to clean—cringing at the little insects that come crawling out of their hiding spots. Geez—has it really been this bad?

He falls asleep on the floor at some point—having completely forgotten to eat—then wakes up feeling awful the next day. The kitchen is barren, and so he orders take-out. Eats and then goes back to cleaning. There’s still a lot left.

It’s barely recognizable once he’s done. Nice and bright and tidy and clean. There’s a sum of a dozen large black trash bags in the hallway he needs to take out, but other than that, everything’s perfect—perfectly presentable to have you come over again.

Still, he gives it a couple of days. He knows you. You’re going to change your mind. You’re too sweet to be breaking up with him. Too nice. You wouldn’t just leave him, not like this. Yeah, you’re only trying to teach him a lesson—after a while, you’ll come back on your own. You’ll be ecstatic over what he’s done with the place—apologetic even as you tell him you were wrong about him—and then everything will go back to normal. Make-up sex and everything. 

But you don’t. No. You’re nowhere to be seen or found—even after a week’s passed. You’re still gone. And he’s starting to believe you might just be gone for real.

No. He sees what this is. You’re waiting for the grand gesture, aren’t you? He never knew you could be so petty—but it’s actually kind of cute. Fine then. He’ll play along—come crawling to you on his hands and knees with the best apology you’ve ever heard. And then you can end this whole thing.

And so he finds himself at your place, pressing the buzzer, not knowing if he’s catching you at home—if not, he’ll just try again tomorrow, and so on until he does. He hears someone at the other side of the door—they must be looking at him through the peephole. It takes a while before the locks click and open.

“Hey…”

It’s you. 

“Hi,” he smiles in return, happy to see you. He’s been so nervous, but somehow, your face and voice are enough to calm him down.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

Oh, of course. You weren’t expecting him. Still, it feels weird of you not to gush happily over the surprise and rush him inside. It’s not every day he goes outside—you should be a little impressed.

But no, of course, you’re playing the part of fed-up girlfriend—acting hard-to-get. He’s got you—he’ll play his part, so don’t worry.

“I wanted to apologize,” he announces. “I haven’t been a good boyfriend—I see that now. But I’ll be better from now on, I promise—come over, and I’ll prove it to you.”

As far as apologies and promises go, he thinks that sounded pretty smooth—not too desperate, not too demanding. Pretty slick, if he can say so himself.

And so, why aren’t you smiling? He can understand being nervous—so is he—but why do you look guilty?

“That’s really nice. And… I’m really happy you’re looking better. But…” you start, and his gut’s already wrenching. “I think you need more time for yourself to just… enjoy what it’s like to be independent, you know?” 

No, he doesn’t know. What are you saying? And why are you holding onto the doorknob like that? Holding it steady as if you’re planning to shut it as soon as you can—why?

“Thanks for stopping by. It was nice seeing you—it really was. Take care of yourself, okay?”

It’s shutting—his plans—disappearing right before his face. He knows he isn’t owed a second shot, but this isn’t fair. You can’t be serious—are you?

“What? No, wait—” He stops you, weighing his own hand on the door, keeping it open. “Listen, I’m good now. I’ve pulled it together, you’ll see—I’ll come in, and we’ll talk about it.”

You resist, using both hands to almost push the door back on him. “I have company, so—”

“What’s up?” another voice announces himself—deep and presentful. He comes into view behind you—taller than you, taller than him—looking down his nose at him with a raised brow. “Who’s this?”

You look a bit panicked—no, embarrassed. “Oh, uhm—”

Why are you embarrassed? “Who’s that?” The bitterness in his voice surprises even himself—loaded with the same type of spite he seethes with when players use cheats to win.

“He’s an old friend, but he was just leaving,” you say, but you’re not speaking to him. No, you stroke a hand over the guy’s broad chest, looking up at him apologetically before turning back to him again, voice strict in a way he’s never heard, “Bye.”

“But—”

You shut the door. On him. In his face. 

His skin crawls—goosefleshed and chilled. Was that a date? No, right? You have a brother, don’t you? Yes, must be. No way you’re dating. There’s no way, right? It’s only been a week… no way you’ve moved on in only a week, right?

You looked really nice—wearing that sweet blouse with all the little bows and that cute little skirt you’d always wear out on dates. Damn, when was the last time the two of you went on a date? Must be months ago, if he can’t even remember. 

Come to think of it, the two of you would always have sex when you wore that skirt. Yeah, it’s your fuck-me-skirt. Are you going to fuck this guy too now? On the first date? Is it your first date? No, probably not—who has their first date at home? That’s more like a third or even fourth or fifth date, right? Were you dating him while the two of you were still together? Have you been cheating on him all this time? Laughing at him behind his back—talking shit with your bitch-roommate? About what a pathetic loser he is? About how he’s a slob who can’t take care of himself? How he needs you? Have you!?

He shouldn't be texting you all this from a random number. He knows that, but the full realization doesn’t dawn on him before it’s too late, and he’s sent you over a hundred messages, some small and others at such a length they take up more than what the screen allows. What the fuck’s he doing? He’d bought the new sim so that he could contact you in an emergency, not to spam you with accusations like some crazy ex. 

He starts deleting them—in some desperate wishful thinking, with the hope you wouldn’t see them, but then the dotted line starts beating, jumping in taunt. His eyes are wide as he stares at it, holding his breath. Ten seconds pass before it disappears—no message sent.

You blocked him again. And he can’t blame you.

And yet, he can’t let you go, either. 

He spends the first few weeks hauled up at home—his flat becoming as trashed as ever as he doomscrolls all your socials through a fake account. You’ve deleted all the pictures of him—even the ones of yourself when you’ve been with him. There’s no evidence the two of you were even dating.

How could you do this? How could you erase him like this?

He has questions, and he needs answers. You can’t just do this—the two of you haven’t even had the talk—he hasn’t even got to say his side yet!

He just wants to talk to you—why won’t you let him? He just wants you to hear him out. He deserves that much. But since you’re not giving him any option of contacting you, he’s had to resort to medieval methods—lurking outside your apartment like some creep, eyes peeled on your building’s entrance, waiting for you to show.

He’s there for hours, patiently—refusing to go home—thinking he’ll be there all night if he has to.

But then there you are—coming out of the complex, stepping down the alley, dressed all nice for the night. You seem to be in a hurry—are you on your way to another date? Well, wherever you’re going and whoever you’re meeting, they can wait.

“I need to talk—” he doesn’t get the words out.

You’d noticed him following you and tried to out-pace him—make him lose interest. But the area your flat’s situated in is a sketchy one—at least for girls, and you’d made the decision long ago that you’d never walk outside unprepared. And so, as soon as feeling the stranger's hand on your arm, you whip around to maze him right in the face.

“Argh!” he screeches and stumbles back, hands covering his eyes. “Fuck—ow-fuckin’dammit, shit—what the fuck did you do that for? Fuck—”

You were going to make a run for it, but the familiar voice has you halt—wait a minute…

You call his name, and sure enough, it’s him who looks up at you through the teary redness of your pepper spray assault. 

“Oh my god, shit—I’m so sorry—I thought you were a—” you stop yourself. “Fuck—never mind. Come—” You link his arm with yours and lead him back inside the apartment you just left. “I’ll help you rinse—I’m so sorry.”

You rush him to the bathroom, seating him atop the toilet lid as you wet a cloth and start soaking his face.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see it was you—” you apologize again. “Are your eyes okay?”

“Not really,” he hisses through clenched teeth, though steals himself soon after. “But they're getting better…”

His face unswells after a good thirty minutes, after which he’s able to keep his eyes open again—sore and no doubt bloodshot, yet fine, if not for that. You’ve moved him into the living room instead, having done what you could to rinse off your attack—having provided him with an apologetic glass of water. Now sitting with him, waiting for the effects to wear off.

It feels nice to be with you again despite the circumstances—but it’s awkward how you don’t speak.

“You look nice,” he says—trying to break the tension. It’s not as if the two of you are strangers, and so you shouldn’t act like it.

“Oh, I’m going to a party—roomie’s already there, so…” you say, sitting at the edge of your seat. “If you’re okay, I should probably head out… soon.”

A silence fills his head, as well as the room—a heavy stillness before a single word leaves him. “What?” His face sinks—part confusion, part offense, and something else—something that makes his voice come out accusatory and outraged, “You maze me in the face, and you’re just gonna fuck off to a party?”

Your eyes widen.“Well… it’s—”

“No—what the fuck?” He stands abruptly. His head’s so empty except for the blinding darkness slowly overtaking it—leaving him feeling boiling and all but nuclear. “That’s all I get? Are you fucking serious?” He’s shouting now—and then he’s on you, with one hand fisting your pretty dress and another around your throat. “First, you dump me without warning, assault me like some maniac, give me a lousy apology, and then tell me to fuck off? What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

You splutter his name and push, but it’s like fighting a wall.

“Where are you actually going dressed like that, huh? What’s so fucking important? Is it another date? What, with that same oaf I saw here last time? Or is it someone new already? I know how flighty you can be. I mean, fuck, I knew you were a little freaky, but I didn’t know I was dating a fucking slut!”

His strength comes as a complete and utter devastating shock. You’d think sitting in a chair all day would make any muscle obsolete—but the hands holding you don’t right now is more than anything you could hope to fight against.

“Stop! Get off me—” you cry, thrashing hopelessly as he lifts your dress and rips your lace panty down your thighs. 

A growl in his voice and nothing but rage on his face.

“If anyone can get it—I might as well help myself.”

♡ INSPO

♡ BNHA – Shigaraki, Dabi, Denki, Kirishima ♡ BLLK – Nagi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[xervn]

melatonin

two-shot | enemies to fuckers sevika x reader

pt. 2

ao3 link

summary: you're forced to go on a business trip with your least favorite coworker and share a room with her. now you can't sleep.

18+ MDNI | 4.1k words | tags; canon divergence, sevika is a little mean, sevika is nonchalant fr, reader is a brat, very light sub/dom, vaginal fingering, scissoring, begging kink, praise kink kinda, porn w/ plot-ish, no use of y/n

new record; took me 4 days to write. i don't know who possessed me. i love enemies to lovers so bad FUCKKKK!!!

“One room.” The motel owner, an old, short, and grotesque-looking woman with a thick accent, says. 

 “One room? Clear another one out then?” You insist, mildly threateningly. The woman’s eyes glaze over as she blinks. She’s not moved.

“There are two beds; who cares?” Sevika grumbles, clearly over your antics.

You shoot a glare in her direction, lip forming into a scowl. “I’m not sharing a room with you; you look like you snore.” 

She tells you something along the lines of go fuck or kill yourself (you weren’t really listening) before pushing past you and replacing the room keys on the counter with a stack of silver cogs. 

The owner collects the cogs with a grunt before adjusting her small reader glasses. Sevika strides off towards the rooms, and you quickly turn after her.

“Couldn’t you have tried to help?” You ask. Your eyes burn a hole through the side of her face.

She doesn’t spare you a glance. “You’re dramatic, and I don’t have the patience to deal with your bullshit right now.”

You hate her. You fucking hate her. You’ve been working alongside Sevika for two years now, yet you can’t shake the feeling. It started when you first met; Sevika was cold and critical, reprimanding you even though you were young and starting out. That’s not even what drove you to hate her, though; at least back then it felt like she was looking out for you, but you were painfully mistaken when you got promoted within the year. 

You don’t know what it was; jealousy, doubt, but her distaste for you only grew more apparent. There were fewer critiques and more insults about how you work or about your intelligence. Insufferable. She was insufferable.

There hasn’t been a day she’s been likable since then, so imagine your reaction when Silco tells you and her to go on a little business trip to Bilgewater. No matter how much the both of you wanted to protest, you didn’t. Instead you two argued amongst yourselves the whole trip there. 

Why would you want to spend even more unnecessary time around her?

The minute you guys enter your room, you don’t speak a single word to each other, let alone look each other’s way. You take turns using the restroom to get ready for bed, and then you find a place for your belongings, and Sevika ejects her bionic arm for the night. Although you two definitely don’t like each other, it doesn’t mean you don’t trust each other. You know she won’t rob you; she knows you won’t (can’t) take advantage and kill her. That’s the only semblance of peace you share.

— 

A faint amber light soaks through your eyelids, and you blink them open to the popcorned ceiling. You toss and turn in your bed, rustling around, unable to find a good position, and it doesn’t help that the cheap mattress is, well, cheap. You can’t sleep. You’ve always had trouble sleeping, but it’s never been a real problem before; you’d just stay up. Yes, you have permanent eye bags because of it, but it’s not like you can choose otherwise. You‘re from Zaun; any aid for it is not exactly accessible. 

However, the meeting you have tomorrow is important, so it’s important that you find a way. You can’t afford to slack off or doze off during it; you’re the negotiator, and tomorrow makes or breaks a trade deal that will be most beneficial for Zaun’s income. 

You rustle in your bed sheets again, and Sevika immediately groans. “Can you stop? And turn the lamp off.”

You look at her and you’re about to apologize, but you hold your tongue when you remember who you’re talking to. “I can’t sleep.”

“Turn the lamp off and fucking figure it out.” She snaps, turning her back towards you.

“Can’t you hear?” You squirm around, making as much noise as possible to get your point across. “I’m trying.”

“Find a different way. Count poros. Turn the lamp off.”

You scoff, eyes back on the ceiling, “I’m not five; counting poros doesn’t work, and I’m not turning off the lamp.”

You can hear Sevika shifting in her bed. “I knew you should’ve stayed back,” she sighs, “and you’re scared of the dark? Grow up.”

“Wow, fuck you. If you had asked nicely, I would’ve turned it off, and what do you mean I ‘should’ve stayed’? You’re not my boss. I’m more valuable than you are.” You angrily rant. 

“Alright, you are talking way too much right now. Cut it out.” 

“…No.” You reply. It sounds unconvincing with your lack of words, but it was the best you could come up with.

“Do you need calming tea or something? What will get you to shut up, because I’m about to hold a pillow over your head and call it a night.” She growls.

“Nothing. I can only sleep if I get a concussion or if I drink my pants off.”

She says your name like a warning, “If you ruin this deal, I’ll make sure to see you off myself.”

You bite back, “Sevika, if I could sleep, I would be sleeping. I don’t want to ruin it either, but your scolding isn’t helping.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds, then Sevika grunts stubbornly. It’s followed by sheets moving and a dull stomp on the floor. You turn to look, and you see Sevika sitting at the side of her bed. 

You glance at her muscular thighs in those gray shorts—you couldn’t help it—before staring back at the ceiling. “Are you going to make me tea?”

She pushes off the bed with her one arm. “No.”

“Switching rooms then?” You ask as your eyes follow her shadow’s movement on the walls. 

“No.”

“Then... What is it?“ You turn, flinching a bit when you find Sevika peering down at you. 

She looks hesitant, timid; the first time you’ve ever seen it. “I’ll help you.”

Your defenses go off, and you quickly sit up. “Wait. You’re not going to kill me, right?”

“Over sleep? Are you stupid?” She pushes you back down, and not with much force, obviously.

You lay there, defeated. “So?”

“I said, ‘I’ll help you.'” She restates.

You stare up at her with slight annoyance, “Well, you have to tell me how?”

She has an indecisive frown before exhaling, “If you come, you’ll shut up.” 

Your head shakes in confusion. “Come? Where are we going?” 

“You’re an actual idiot.” She groans.

You gasp in offense. “You’re the one being fucking cryptic—“

“I’ll fuck you to sleep.” 

“What?”

“I’ll fuck you to sleep.”

“I heard you; I’m just,” you laugh nervously, “are you serious?” Your ears must be playing tricks on you. 

“We’re not close enough to joke around with each other.” She says plainly.

Baffled, you reply, “We’re not close enough to fuck either?” 

“Do you really care about shit like that? Sex is sex.”

You think about it for a second. You’ve never been in a proper relationship, and you’ve only had a handful of hookups, but you’ve never slept with someone you dislike, and you definitely don’t like Sevika. Even if she is hot. “Well, I guess not—“

“—Then what’s the issue?” Her eyes bore into you.

You gulp at the sudden weight of her stare, but you don’t crumble. “The issue is that I don’t like you. At all.”

Sevika scoffs, “I’ve seen the way you stare at me. You’re not subtle. At all. I saw you do it a few minutes ago.”

How embarrassing. It’s true, between all your hate are moments of admiration. Sevika is “cool,” she’s respected, she’s feared. She’s also full of herself, naggy, and blunt. Both things can be true. But on top of that, she’s hot to the point it’s frustrating. 

One time, while she was sitting in her designated booth at The Last Drop playing poker, she locked eyes with you after a big win. There was that sexy, satisfied grin she always gets after every win, and she had the audacity to lock eyes with you. 

Your thighs pressed together. You beat yourself up over it for the rest of the night and the following day; you couldn’t even look her in the eye without getting unreasonably angry.

Your face is turning warm, but there’s no point in turning away—you have to fake it until you make it. “Okay? What’s your point?” You ask, even though her point was very clear. You’re running yourself into walls.

Sevika already deciphered that; her face reads, ‘Where the fuck are you right now?’ “Listen, I don’t like you either, but if you want to sleep, I’ll help you, and if you don’t, I’ll get another room.” She explains.

You can tell it’s her final offer. You chew your bottom lip until you remember Sevika is still looking at you. Hiding your face behind your hand, you can’t believe you’re considering it. Sex with Sevika. Sounds mad when you repeat it in your head. It’s just sex, though, right? You knew she loved Zaun, but you didn’t know she loved it this much. Sleeping with you, practically her arch nemesis, for the betterment of society. That sounds insane. This is insane.

Sevika kisses her teeth, “Forget it—“ 

“—Okay,” you interrupt, “help me.” You’re unable to look her in the eyes. 

She looks at you dubiously, and her lack of doing anything unnerves you, so you continue. “Please?” You slowly look up at her, and you swear her eyes darkened. 

“Please?” She mimics. “Didn’t take you for the submissive type.” 

“No idea what you’re talking about.” You reply, although it comes out like a whisper.

“Mhm,” she hums apathetically, pulling up the covers draped over you. Her knee makes a dip in the bed. “Make some space,” she asks. You sit up, and you have no idea what to do. Looking left and right, you'd think you were trying to cross the road. She stares blankly. “Just spread your legs.” She commands.

You immediately do as she says, and she chuckles to herself at how you continue to prove her right. You’re clearly not a fan of that, your frown prominent. “What’s funny?” 

Sevika kneels herself between your legs, using her arm to help balance her in place. “Man, you love to argue.” 

You shrug. “I’ll stop when you fuck me to sleep. If you can... Don’t you think you’re a little overconfident?” 

Sevika slowly blinks at you, unsure of whether she should be turned on or irritated. You take it as the latter, and now it’s your turn to chuckle to yourself. But your self-satisfied giggling stops when she leans over you, inches away from your face, “You’re about to find out.” 

You never took the time to process Sevika kneeling between your legs, and now you can feel each exhale from her on your face. Your body starts to process it too: your breathing gets heavier and your heartbeat gets faster. You don’t have a crush on her or anything, but this is an unusual, unsurprisingly hot experience. Your eyes flicker to her full, uneven lips before they squeeze shut.

Sevika flicks your forehead. “Wh—ow?!” You whine, rubbing your head with your hand to soothe it. 

“I’m not kissing you.” She clarifies.

Your face warms with embarrassment, fingers gripping at the fabric beneath you. “How was I supposed to know you wanted a staring contest?” You grumble.

Sevika rolls her eyes, barely shaking her head in disappointment. Her face moves on from yours, and her lips attack the exposed curvature of your neck, licking, biting, and rendering you speechless. She gives you no time to regulate your emotions, and you let out a soft groan you would’ve otherwise swallowed down. Just what she wanted: less talking, more moaning.

Letting her guide the tilt of your head, you awkwardly rest your hands on her shoulders. You’re unsure of whether you can or should touch her. She pauses. “Sor— I… uh…” You stammer and put your hands up. You decide to just stop speaking to save yourself.

“Relax.” She tells you, gazing at you through her loose, dark hair. It stirs something below you. 

You place your hands back on her shoulders, albeit reluctantly, and try to maintain eye contact so you look composed. 

Sevika doesn’t buy it. She glances at your hands, very tellingly. “…Relax.” She repeats, softer than she did before, and your heart skips a beat like you’re in a cliché. 

Hesitantly, you slide your arms around her shoulders, linking your hands together. It feels intimate, too intimate, and looking at her is getting harder by the second. Sevika chuckles in a way that borders on a scoff. “You wanted to do that; don’t be shy about it.”

You huff, “I didn’t know I was being teased to sleep…”

“Is it working? It’d save me time.”

“Fuck off...” 

“You’d hate that.” She replies, as if it’s undeniable. It is, but she’s way too cocky about it. You look like you’re about to curse her out, but you’re holding it back. 

Sevika grins smugly, and for a moment, she considers kissing you. Your arms are wrapped around her shoulders, your eyes are yelling, ‘Fuck me already,’ lips practically begging to meet hers.

This is intimate, too intimate. It’s fucking with her logical reasoning—not that this is logical to begin with. It sounds stupid, but it’s worked for her so far; she casually fucks on the regular, and she doesn’t kiss them ever. Never really felt like it. Yet, here you are, making her feel new things. She knows there’s no going back if she makes an exception with you, and quite frankly, you still piss her off. It’s conflicting.

You impatiently perk a brow at her. You had to stop yourself from flat-out asking her to continue; your ego can’t afford you coming off as begging.

For a millisecond she looks like she got caught, then a millisecond later, she’s on you again. 

She attentively kisses the skin below the curve of your jawline, her tongue making frequent warm appearances. It’s much more fervent, but rough in a way that makes you tremble. She always makes sure you feel her teeth gliding over when she moves to the next spot. Your legs move on their own, one leg curling up against her side. You’re already pooling where you’re seated, but now it’s getting uncomfortable to sit this damp. 

Experienced is how you can describe her right now. You heard rumors of her activity, but you never believed it. There was no way her ol’ grumpy ass was getting laid, no matter how incredibly sexy she was. Then again, you never got along, which makes this situation, this fucking feeling, even crazier. 

She was being extra careful not to bruise you at first, but she seems not to care anymore, only driven further when she hears your little gasps or feels your arms tightening around her. She’s getting carried away, but she’ll figure out how to play it off some other time.

 Sevika pulls back. She throbs at your dazed and confused expression.  “Come closer.” She ushers as she transitions to sitting rather than kneeling on the bed. 

With no hesitation, you don’t let go of Sevika as you push yourself forward on your hips, sitting your ass comfortably on the edge of Sevika’s lap. Her hand lands on your waist. She says, “Lay down for me.” 

You nod shyly, removing your arms from Sevika’s shoulders and descending onto the mattress. Sevika tries to ignore how the loss of your arms around her made her feel. Her hand travels to the waistband of your joggers. “You’re going to have to move these for me too.” She asks, shrugging her shoulder that’s missing an arm as a reminder. 

She doesn’t move; she waits. Your insides do a flip. She’s waiting for you to remove them how you are now: legs diverged around her, hips pointed towards her. You think about how vulnerable you’ll look and feel when you slide them off, showing her the sopping mess she unknowingly made between your legs. You know she’s going to see it eventually, but from you doing the honors? That’s tearing you apart. She notices a shift in your demeanor, but she doesn’t acknowledge it. “Hurry up.” 

“Can’t you move back…?”

Sevika rolls her eyes. “No.”

You whine in embarrassment, briefly shielding your face in your hands before hastily pulling at your waistband. You wish you had turned the lamp off.

Sevika’s hand clasps over yours. “Slowly.” She scolds. Scolds. You’re fucking flabbergasted. She’s doing this on purpose, you can tell. She’s barely holding back another signature, smug smile. 

“You’re such a dick.” You curse. A direct juxtaposition in your actions that don’t defy Sevika at all. Hell, it juxtaposes your body because of how you’re aching for her.

“Yeah, yeah. Off.” She pulls at the band of your pants, letting it slap down when she releases it. 

You mutter out a few more curses that she fully grins at before you silently begin to remove your joggers and underwear simultaneously. You lift your hips for mobility, and Sevika’s eyes are glued to the fabric making its way down your thighs, and you’re forced to watch how intently she’s watching you. You can try to insist this is humiliating and cruel, but you can’t stop throbbing just from this; her eyes anticipating your reveal, like you’re a self-opening present.

The clothing starts to bunch at the middle of your thighs, and your arousal is halfway there to being exposed to Sevika. The scent is what hits her first; it makes her want to yank your pants down and give you what you want, but watching you do it so much better.

Once it reaches above your knees, she partially moves out of the way so she can help you remove them properly. While she tosses it elsewhere, you debate pinning your legs shut. 

Sevika looks back at you—your legs, actually—and you do flinch them closed. She tsks. “Don’t be stubborn. Not now.” She didn’t sound like she was insulting you, even though a small part of you wanted to be offended. 

You let out a shaky sigh and avoid her gaze, slowly parting your legs. Thighs slicked with arousal, folds glistened with the same, you’re undeniably soaked. You prepare yourself to look at Sevika’s shit-eating grin, but when you do, it’s nothing of the sort. Her eyes are low, shaded, and memorializing, and her bottom lip fully disappeared between her teeth. 

Then she grins; she even laughs, just as you expected. You groan, not at her, but at how wet you got from it. “I didn’t even do anything yet.” She teases, her eyes still locked on the ego-stroking mess she made of you. 

“Such a di—“ You cut yourself off to moan sharply. 

Sevika’s thumb came in contact with your swollen clit, the rough pad of her thumb making perfect circles; the rest of her fingers positioned in the patch of hair crowning above it.

“How fast do you think you’ll come? I’m thinking,” she pretends to, only to press her thumb over your clit. Filthy words flutter from your lips, and you instinctively grind into her touch. “Three minutes?” 

You look pissed between your bouts of pleasure; it molds together attractively. Sevika can’t wait to make it break, make you cry, and fuck the attitude out of you. “What? You should see how wet you are; you’d think I already fucked you.” 

She feels the way you twitch at her words, and it makes the pressure between her legs unbearable. She should just strip and grind her cunt into you, but she knows she won’t be able to stop there. Fuck her stupid life; she’s losing the plot. 

Her thick forefinger collects your slick as she paths towards your entrance. You twitch as she slides it in, making you gasp. She chuckles as your walls clench around her finger, and she starts pushing it in and out, painstakingly slow. 

It’s not enough, yet you can’t bring yourself to beg her for more. It’s at the tip of your tongue, but Sevika was right; you are stubborn. She reads you like a book, and she can read you now. She angles her finger in a way that brushes against your g-spot, but at the same mind-numbingly slow pace. 

Your body doesn’t know what to do; you can’t find friction anywhere; you can squeeze against her finger, but it doesn’t change her speed; all you can do is writhe in place. “You look like you need something,” she says, almost like it’s a thought in her head, so condescending, so fucking hot. Your pussy tenses around her finger for the millionth time, and you almost, almost, cry. “You’re gonna cut my finger off at this rate.” You tense again. She chuckles. 

“Sev—Sevika,” you bite your lip to hold down a sharp inhale, but it fails miserably. “Sevika, you’re not helping.”

 “Should I stop?” She asks with the tilt of her head. Her finger does stop regardless of the answer. 

Your hands reach out for her wrist, weakly clawing at it. “No! No, pl...” You mildly cringe at yourself, turning away. 

Sevika’s brows lifted. “What was that? Pl...?” She begins her pace again, and you realize you didn’t appreciate it enough before. “You said it once already; come on.” 

Your lips tremble, “Plea—se—?” She barely lets you finish the word before slipping another finger into your drooling cunt. Her pace increases, and you let go of her wrist as you succumb to pleasure. 

 Your arousal coating her fingers makes the most obscene noises; she wonders if the entire motel can hear it. You try to suppress your moans with your hand, but you can never do it right, not with the way she’s fucking you. Sevika’s glad you can’t; having one arm would’ve been even more inconvenient otherwise. She needs to hear you sob out her name at least once. “Please what?” She leans over you as she slams her fingers into you, pressing them against your wet, ridged, gummy walls.

“You’re— fuck, you’re pushing it,” you groan, and just like that, she slows down. But you’re weak, and you crumble. “Wait, wait, wait—please. Please, fuck me... Fuck me to sleep.” You ramble loosely, back to scratching at her wrists again. There’s that smile you were thinking about earlier, the one she gets after a big win. She broke you, and she lost the plot ages ago. 

—

It’s been an hour, and you’re already on the brink of your third orgasm. Sevika folded and ended up, verbatim, stripping and grinding her cunt into yours. You should be asleep right now, but Sevika said you have enough time to catch up on it before the meeting. You hope that’s true, but you don’t care. You can’t get enough of her or her abs flexing with every desperate hump. 

So intent on getting her rocks off, practically using you for her own pleasure at this point—you already came twice now; any more is a bonus, just like the one building up right now. Your eyes are pressed shut, trying to envision your release so it comes quicker. “Just like that. Keep fucking me, please, Sev.” You beg through your teeth and quiet sniffles. Sevika’s fingers squeeze the meat of your thigh.

She murmurs, “You,” her movements get sloppier; you can tell she’s close, “feel so fucking good.” Now you’re close—no, you come at her praise. 

You’re shaking, grabbing at the sheets that have since slid off the mattress. You forgot how to breathe; all you can feel is your orgasm coursing through you. Your mind is turning fuzzy, and even fuzzier with Sevika still grinding into you. Your moans are pitchy and pornographic; you’re making sounds you didn’t even think happened in real life. “Sevika...” You sob out from overstimulation, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

She loves it. “Shit…” Sevika moans, followed by several more curses as she shudders out her orgasm. Her vision goes blurry for a second from how hard she came. She tries to control her labored breathing as she comes to, breathlessly calling your name. 

When she focuses in on you, you’re passed out, fucked out, and peaceful. Sevika’s pupils dilate at the markings she left on your neck, then to your lips, which she’s yet to have the chance to kiss. She lets the sleep weighing on her win and carefully collapses beside you. 

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