#*drops enormous stack of papers*

[lovebugism]

thigh riding Carmy because he isn't paying attention to you please please please 😭

summary: carmy misses date night and finds a way to work and make you feel good at the same time (2.2k)

pairing: carmy berzatto / f!reader

contents: established relationship, thigh riding, public setting (ish), dirty talk, smut with sprinkles of fluff 18+

Carmy’s office is a windowless concrete cage of chaos. There are a million papers stacked and scattered across his desk, half-hidden beneath books that are flipped open to random pages. You’re not sure how he’s keeping up with any of it. Though, to be fair, you’ve never been able to completely understand his mind.

You know him better than anyone else, but he’s still such a mystery to you sometimes — like a language you can read perfectly but can’t speak all the way. 

You don’t know why he runs himself aground with work even though it kills him, even though he swears the enormity of his desire brings him back to life again. You just know to try and save the drowning man from himself from time to time, and not to let him strangle you with his panic in the process.

“Bear?” you call gently into the amber-lit office, knuckles rapping against the opened door. “You ready?”

Sitting slouched over his desk, you can hear the faint tap tap tapping of his pen against the paper, an anxious tick for his ever-fidgeting fingers. “No. Not— Not yet, baby. I’m fuckin’— I’m drowning in this paperwork right now.”

He lifts his heavy head from his tattooed hand and glances at you over his shoulder. The sight of you makes his breath catch — leaning against the doorframe, all pretty in the lamplight, wearing the dress he bought you.

The deep emerald silk drips over your body like summer rain. It dips low at your chest and flows just above your knees, fitting you like a total dream.

Carmy, for a flicker of a moment, forgets to be anxious. 

While his eyes dart over your form, the rest of the world disappears — it could be entirely falling apart for all he knows, but all he can see now is you. Your stormy eyes, your soft skin, and your quiet sensuality. Your ruby lips, your cheeks like wine, and your gentle voice. 

His mouth falls agape to say words he can’t make out. His ocean eyes go wide, glimmering a deeper blue in the low light — which casts dark shadows over the sharp edges of his face. His gaze is like the sea. You feel yourself drowning in it accordingly.

“It can’t wait?” you press gently, lifting yourself from the doorframe and sauntering slowly towards him. Closing the door behind you, you drop your chin to your chest and flash the boy a sheepish smile. “All the restaurants are gonna close soon.” 

Carmy huffs. He knew better than to plan a date. He’s far too busy — or, rather, he doesn’t allow himself to be anything other than busy because there’s a voice inside him that just won’t be still. Working himself to death was an art he did exceptionally well, which hadn’t bothered him so much until he met you.

“I gotta get this done, babe,” he answers sympathetically, tilting his chin to keep his eyes locked with yours as you near him.

Your familiar scent sets the stagnant air aglow. The warmth of your perfume cradles his senses when you loom beside him. Your hand rises to his shoulder, fingers fidgeting with the swathe of curls at the nape of his neck. His wide palm smooths over your hip — softly calloused against the satiny fabric. 

You smile softly down at him. “So I got all pretty for nothin’?” you tease with a scrunched nose.

“Well, you got all pretty for me, actually,” Carmy corrects.

His pink lips curl in a faint smirk. Your grin widens tenfold. The subtle act of possessiveness, coupled with the strong hand on your waist, makes your chest sparkle. 

“Yeah, I did,” you hum proudly, bending at the waist to press a chaste kiss to his mouth. He tastes fleetingly of nicotine and sweet plum wine — a maddening concoction.

You rise to full height again. Carmy pats your hip twice before his fingers fall away. He turns back to his desk, and you feel half-invisible again. It’s hardly his fault, though. There was something deeply intense about his stone-blue eyes. You feel strangely held when he looks at you, left inevitably mourning every time he turns away.

His pen darts across the gridded page in chicken scratch you can’t make out, worsened by his wrist smudging the ink. Your arms wrap loosely around his neck. You bury your nose in his chestnut curls and inhale the familiar scent of grill smoke and cedarwood. 

“You know I don’t care actually about going out, right?” you mumble there.

Carmy hums, half-distracted. “Mhm.”

“Just wanna spend time with you… Don’t care what we’re doing…”

You press a kiss to his temple. He leans instinctively into your touch. “Well, I’ll make you the best damn PB&J Chicago’s ever seen when we get back home, alright?” he muses with a quiet smile. “How’s that sound?”

“I’m holding you to that, Bear,” you say, grinning into his curls.

“I’m countin’ on it.” Carmy chuckles and lifts his free hand to squeeze your wrist. His touch slips away soon after when he turns back to his work. 

Quiet returns, heavy and deafening, filled only by the distant clanging of pots from stragglers in the kitchen. It makes you strikingly aware of yourself — of the space you’re filling in this tiny office, and the distracting weight of your arms around his neck. Feeling more like a burden, you clear your throat and pull away.

“I’m, uh— I’m gonna see if Richie left yet. Maybe he’ll let me bum a smoke or something.”

Carmy mourns your warmth the second you’re gone. He spins in his swivel chair to face you, laughing to cover up his ache. “What happened to us spending time together?”

He knows how you think. You think he gets so involved in his work that he doesn’t spare you a single thought. But really, he’s so strongly devoted to you that it feels like the emotion could rip him open from the inside.

You squint. “Watching you sign a bunch of paperwork while you pretend I’m not here is not spending time together,” you argue, laughing despite yourself.

“Don’t go. C’mon,” Carmy pleads, very distantly begging. He tilts his head and blinks at you with wide, pleading eyes. “Come sit,” he tells you.

“Sit where?” you scoff.

“In my lap.”

“I’ll squish you,” you insist, giggling.

“Shut up and sit down,” he commands, still playful but leaving little room for argument. His wide palms smooth slowly up and down his denim-clad thighs. Your heart lurches into your throat.

You walk the short distance to him with a huff of feigned annoyance, dress swishing around your knees. Carmy pushes away from his desk to give you space to sit. You take a seat on his lap, just like he asked you to, but he stops you with a pair of strong hands grasping your hips.

“Not like that,” he murmurs.

Your brows furrow in response. “What do you mean?”

“On my thigh,” Carmy corrects, swatting playfully at your clothed hip. “C’mon. Sit right.”

You rise slowly, with a hesitant squint in your eyes. “What are you playing at, Bear?” you wonder lowly, legs spread slightly to welcome his thigh between them.

Carmy bounces his shoulder in a lazy shrug. His tattooed hands creep up the hem of your dress to urge you down onto his lap — the proper way. “You’re the one always sayin’ I’m too busy for you, right?” he responds, hardly expecting a real answer, as he helps you straddle one of his thighs.

The angle is awkward. The old chair leaves little room for the both of you. You’re forced to keep one leg on the ground while the other bends at the knee between his legs. You hold tight to his shoulders, trusting him to keep you steady. Your dress bunches at your hips in the meanwhile. Carmy raises his thigh until it’s flush against your clothed cunt. 

Your breath catches, and he smirks.

“So… You’re gonna cum on my thigh,” he continues casually. “…And after that, we’ll go home, I’ll fuck you like you need, and then I’ll run you a bath… How’s that sound?”

Your stomach swirls with a familiar warmth — which you can feel pooling in your panties now. “What about the PB&J?” you joke in a quiet voice that trembles only slightly.

Carmy scoffs a faint laugh. “After the bath.”

“What about in the bath?”

“Whatever you want,” he assures with a smile. “You just gotta ride me first.”

The lighthearted air turns bone-crushingly sensual in a flicker of a moment. His light eyes pierce you mercilessly, peering into the depths of your soul. You melt for him, going uncharacteristically soft and subservient, just how he likes.

Carmy helps you with a few passes over his thigh. You’re obviously unsure, and he can tell by your hesitant movements. His free hand squeezes your hip, urging you up his leg and down again, until you find your own rhythm. Then he turns back to his work and tries to focus. The soft sound of your breathy moans entwines with the scribbling of his pen.

You rock your hips in measured thrusts, trying to find the proper pace. The delicate fabric of your panties ruts along the rough denim of his jeans — catching your clit perfectly when you buck your hips just right. Lightning strikes down your spine, then. Both alleviating the ache between your thighs and creating a new one all at once. 

Your breath hitches. Pitiful whimpers sound in your throat instead. You bury them all in Carmy’s neck as you hide your face in his shoulder, with your warm cheek pressed to his ear and your fingers balling his shirt in your fists.

There was something foreignly erotic about all this. Being in Carmy’s office, the door unlocked, with Syd and Richie meandering elsewhere in the kitchen. The fear of being caught made your movements quick. Careless. Wild. 

And there was something about Carmy, too. The way he’s got you getting yourself off, with little help from the boy himself, while he busies himself with paperwork. You can hear him scribbling away still, flitting through papers with the hand not holding you. All while you hump his thigh, so desperate for attention. It’s pathetic. And something about it made you feel good.

Your pretty whimpers turn into deeper, breathier moans. Carmy smiles to himself. He can feel the warmth of your cunt despite the layers between you. It makes him wonder if you’ve left a stain on the denim. He prays you’ve left a stain on the denim — wants the mark of your honey stamped there forever.

“You close?” he murmurs when he notices your legs starting to tremble.

You bury a whine in his neck. “Fuck, Bear—”

“Hey,” he hums, pulling away from his paperwork for the first time in several minutes to look at you. 

His long fingers rise from your hip and curl into your hair. He tugs softly at the strands to urge your head back so he can admire his work. Your eyes are lidded and glassy, your lips swollen and parted — already fucked-out, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“I asked if you were close,” he repeats, unsmiling.

“Yes,” you manage through a whimper.

His grip on your hair slackens. His touch returns to your hip, encouraging your rapid movements. His pink lips quirk in the faintest hint of a smile. “Good,” he praises. “Good girl. Keep going.”

You bury your face in his neck again, lips curling around your teeth to stifle the moans swelling there. Your hips lose their rhythm as the threat of your orgasm grows. Your clit pounds like a second heartbeat. You briefly wonder if Carmy can feel it, and the thought alone sends you reeling.

“Carmy,” you keen, voice wavering. “I’m gonna cum.”

You feel him nod against you. He licks his lips and turns his head. His nose squishes your temple; his wet mouth brushes your ear. 

“Do it, then. C’mon,” he mumbles against you, coaxing you closer towards your pleasure — not because he’s a pro at the whole dirty-talking thing, but because he knows how much you like it. “Be a good girl and cum on my thigh. Come on.”

You last two more passes up and down his lap before you tense on top of him. Your hips still as you whimper into his shoulder, shuddering hard when your orgasm washes over you.

“Atta girl,” Carmy praises. “Keep cumming for me.”

He drops his pen and finally turns away from his work. He grips your hips with both hands and works you the rest of the way through your orgasm. You let him, for a few agonizing moments, until your high fades and leaves you achingly sensitive.

You inhale sharply through your nose and reach suddenly for his wrists. “No more,” you plead, then exhale a breathy chuckle.

When you part from his neck, Carmy ducks his head to catch your averted gaze. His wide eyes dart over your pleasure-stricken features. “You good?” he wonders. His words have lost any hint of sensuality. He’s always serious about checking in on you.

You nod and swallow hard. “’M good,” you promise, then freeze when your knee nudges his half-hard cock. “Are you good?” you parrot.

Carmy scoffs a breathy chuckle. “I’m almost done here— go bum a smoke from Richie, alright? I’ll out in a second.” 

He kisses you softly. A chaste kiss that’s perhaps too innocuous for such a honeyed moment. You rise on tired legs, and he swats playfully at your side. “How’s that for spending time together, huh?” he calls over his shoulder as you wrench open the office door.

“You’re an idiot, Bear.”

[dellalyra]

happy (late) birthday to gojo! i wonder how the family spent his birthday but also i wonder how the crew used to celebrate each other’s birthdays when they were younger!

𝟏𝟕/𝟑𝟔

𝑃𝑖𝑥𝑖𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑦𝑠：𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒，𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑓𝑓 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ.

𝐶𝑊：𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓，𝑠𝑢𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑓𝑓 𝑏𝑐 𝑜𝑏𝑣𝑠 𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑛’𝑠 𝑏𝑖𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑑𝑎𝑦 ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠， 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔，𝑓𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑙𝑚𝑘 𝑖𝑓 𝐼 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔♡︎

“Shoko wait - that’s salt! Don’t put salt in the damn cake.”

“Why not? It would be funny.” She shrugs.

“Imagine how insufferable he would be, Sho.” Suguru intervenes.

“Did you get the balloons?” You ask Suguru.

“Yeah, they’re up in your dorm room. He comes barging into mine too much so yours was the best option.”

“I still can’t believe he’s never had a real birthday, like with sweets and soda and balloons.” You shake your head.

“Yeah, pretty fucking depressing to only have ‘formal birthday celebrations’ with stuffy old farts for your whole life.” Shoko says, sucking on a lollipop.

“Part and parcel of being the heir to a big three family, I suppose.” Suguru shrugs, watching you beat eggs into the cake mixture.

“What did you guys get him?” You ask.

“I got him this enormous basket of candy - like imported stuff too.” Shoko says - making you wonder if she’s opened it to take the lollipop she’s currently eating.

“Mine is a surprise. His parents got him an Armani coat and Tom Ford ankle boots, and then the trip to Bali for the four of us.” Suguru interjects.

“Rich people shit.” The three of you say in unison.

At 9pm that night, after a trip to the arcade with Suguru serving as a distraction to Satoru - they approached the building, where Satoru say the common room lights quickly switch off in the distance. He didn’t really understand why the silhouettes of you and Shoko were crouching behind a door, but he figured it was probably some weird girl shit.

Opening the door - shouts of ‘surprise!’ blasted through the room from you and Shoko and Suguru behind him. Big blue balloons were decorating the room with a banner saying ‘happy 17th birthday Satoru!’ hung crookedly on the wall. Gojo’s jaw dropped open at the sight before him, wrapped boxes on the table with a huge assortment of snacks and pizza boxes stacked behind them. Suguru moved from behind him and stood beside you and Shoko as you all blew party poppers toward him, showering him in colourful paper confetti. You run up, hands behind your bag and tug his shoulder for him to lean down to your height as you place a sparkly blue paper party hat on his head, securing it around his chin with a pat to the cheek - the shiny colour of your eyes and lightly glossed lips made him feel more faint than any injury could.

Not that he has a crush on you, or anything. You’re just best friends.

“Happy birthday Satoru!” You chime, giggling and clapping your hands.

“What is all this?” He asks.

“Your birthday party, dolt.” Shoko pokes at him.

“After you said you had only had formal ‘birthday events’ with your clan we thought we’d give you a proper birthday.” Suguru smirks, ruffling his best friends hair.

“We know it’s not as fancy -” You begin.

“This is so fucking cool.” He breathes - poking at the balloons with awe.

It makes sense to you all. His awe, his delighted face and joy laced in his voice. This - fun, homely, relaxed, happy - vibe, this is far more Satoru than any sit down, six course formal meal could ever be.

You can’t help but admire him as he scans through all the sweets laid out on the table, throwing caramel popcorn to Suguru to catch in his mouth. The smile on his face and the warmth in his bright blue eyes emphasise the loose drape of his long limbs, body relaxed and oh-so-happy. You think that happy Satoru is the prettiest Satoru there is. If Satoru asked for the moon wrapped in a pretty box for his birthday, then that’s probably what you’d do.

Not that you’ve a crush on him, or anything. You’re just best friends.

Shoko pushes him to sit down, and dips under the table - pulling out a huge wicker basket and heaving it toward him.

“Here. A gift.” She nods.

He wastes no time in ripping the cellophane obstructing the view of inside off and squeals like a piglet when he sees the sheer mass of sugar in there. He launches himself at Shoko, who just lazily pats him on the shoulder, warning him of cavities and how she won’t pay for any dental care as a result.

Suguru leaves the room, coming back with a cardboard carrier box.

“Oi, Satoru - here’s your gifts from me. Before you open the box, open this first.” He says, languid smirk on his face.

Suguru hands him a tiny box, about the size of a matchbox. Satoru slides it open and pulls out the contents. The puzzled look on his face doesn’t explain the mystery further. You scoot closer, peaking at the contents. Inside, lay three tiny pairs of sunglasses.

“Suguru, I love the sentiment but - I’m not sure these’ll fit me bro.” Satoru says, holding a pair to his nose.

“Open the box.” Suguru says, sitting on the armchair that Shoko has perched herself on the arm off and stretching his arms behind his head.

Satoru does as he’s told, and folds open the lid of the carrier box. The tilt of his head when he looks inside gives nothing away, apart from his complete confusion.

The box seems to rustle, and the nature of your cursed energy calls you toward small life forces inside.

Satoru turns to you, the resident animal lover, and shows you the box.

Inside, are three tiny, fluffy, snow white gerbils.

You begin to coo over them, noticing how healthy and socialised they are (growing up with your technique lead to an innate ability to bond and observe animals, which may have caused your parents pet count to rise from 1 to 17).

Satoru just looks at Suguru.

“You’ve got to be fucking with me.” He says.

“Just thought you needed some familiar faces.” Suguru snorts.

“The sunglasses? Three white rodents? Really, Suguru?! You see Shrek once and decided I’m leader of the three blind mice?!” Satoru retorts.

Shoko is in hysterical laughter as you completely zone out, petting and holding the little menaces in your arms.

“Suguru - you’re an evil genius.” You shake your head.

“Highest of compliments.” He responds.

“Wait - Geto - how the fuck do you expect Satoru to look after three gerbils? He’s - like - he’s Satoru.” Shoko nods in the gerbils direction.

“A responsibility lesson.” Suguru shrugs.

“How do I look after gerbils?! I’m not ready to be a dad! What do they eat? Is steak okay? Or maybe pizza? Do they need to swim like a turtle?! Y/N - what do I do?! You’ll help me, won’t you?!” Satoru begins listing off what he feels he needs to know to care for them.

Like you could ever deny him anything - of course you would, especially when he asks with that pretty pout.

“Course I will, Satoru. You gotta name them.” You nod.

He thinks for a moment, before smirking that smirk that spells trouble every time.

���Isamu, Hiroto and Daiki.” He declares.

“Random, but okay. Not like… fluffy, or whiskers or something that’s more eh - pet name style?” Shoko questions.

“Nah, white haired rodents? I’m calling them after the Gojo elders.” He snorts, devilish smile on his face as you all decent into laughter.

After settling the gerbils into their cage (a gift, courtesy of Yaga), you sheepishly slide a box toward Satoru, it’s small and wrapped in polar bear print paper.

“Happy Birthday, Satoru.” You smile, blushing.

He rips open the box and immediately falters. His casual smirk replaced with an awestruck gape.

“Is this…?”

“Yeah.” You nod.

Inside the box, was a delicate silver bracelet - with a circular medal in the center engraved with all four of your initials and the day you all started at Jujutsu Tech.

“Fucking hell, you really had to show us up like that Y/N?” Shoko groans, knowing your gift was by far the most sentimental.

“I hope you like it. If you don’t I kept the receipt so we can return it for -” You turn to the birthday boy.

“I love it.” He says, lifting his head to look at you.

“You’re per- It’s perfect. I - Help me put it on?” Satoru quickly fixes his slip of the tongue which you luckily didn’t notice but had Shoko and Suguru snickering.

You smile, helping him clasp it around his wrist and clapping when it’s a perfect fit.

“Yay! I’m so happy you like it!” You giggle.

“I like it a lot.” He says, not looking at the bracelet.

36

“Happy birthday, papa!” Came a loud voice, accompanied by excessive bouncing on the bed as the birthday boy himself woke up.

“Papa!” Came a more slurred voice with a giggle, and a small smack to his cheek with a chubby fist.

Satoru opens his eyes, seeing his 5 year old son and 2 year old daughter sitting on him on the bed, and beside them the woman who brought them into the world - shining in the morning sun, looking at him with eyes full of forever.

“We made you waffles!” Akio shouts.

“Waffle!” Mirai nods.

“You did! I am so spoiled! Did you two do them all by yourselves?!” Satoru asks, plopping Mirai on his lap which Akio has just vacated.

“No, papa. We had help!” The boy runs around to you, asking you to tie up his shoulder length white hair.

“Well, c’mon then! I’ve been promised waffles!” He ushers the two of them out of the room as they run toward the kitchen.

He turns around in the bed, seeing you smiling at him.

“Happy birthday, ‘toru.” You say, cupping his cheek and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Every day feels like my birthday with you around, princess.” He smirks, rolling on top of you and kissing you back.

“Charmer.” You giggle.

“Is it working?” He asks.

“We’ve been married for 10 years and have two children together and have raised 2 others. It worked a long time ago. Truth be told, it worked even before I gave you this.” You say, fiddling with the silver bracelet on his wrist.

The jokingly fist bumps the air, even though he’s been fully aware your heart beats solely for him - and has done his you were 16.

“C’mon, handsome. Breakfast awaits along with a little surprise.” You say, lifting yourself off the bed as he does the same, standing and stretching and revealing a back of toned, strong muscles and biceps as he shakes out his fluffy hair.

“On second thought…” you smirk, biting your lip.

“Yeah? What’s that thought?” He smiles, wrapping an arm around you waist and kneading the peachy rise of your ass in his big hands, before sliding his hands up to your waist hidden under the fluffy robe you wore.

“That there might be another surprise for you tonight, and I have planned for the kids to have a sleepover.” You smile, pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand before swirling your tongue around his index finger, batting your eyelashes up at his far taller frame.

“You expect me to go through a whole day waiting for a surprise after this little display?” He groans, pouting like he did when at 18 you told him he couldn’t have his birthday cake until his actual birthday.

You just smile, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before sauntering down the hall with an extra sway of your hips.

After a minute, he comes bouncing down the stairs and is greeted with the most incredible view.

Inside the kitchen, a now 21 year old Yuuji Itadori is wearing a floral apron and surrounded by plates of waffles and smiling.

“Happy birthday, Gojo-Sensei!” He says, before throwing his full strength muscular body at his old teacher.

“I didn’t know you were here! Thank, kid!” He smiles, ruffling Itadori’s hair.

“You made the waffles?” He asks.

From around the corner comes a chuckle and a giggle, as his daughter launches herself from her Uncle Soso’s arms and sprints toward her dad, ever the most loyal daddy’s girl.

“Papa’s day!” She squeals as she’s scooped up into her dad’s strong hold.

“Hello, cupcake. Were you playing with Uncle Soso?” He says, kissing her chubby cheeks as she nods, stroking his hair like her momma does.

“Happy birthday, Satoru.” Choso smiles, hugging him tight. Choso had really seen this family and said ‘yes, this one please.’ Actually, it was a two way street. You saw a sad, grieving man who loved as fiercely as you did and said ‘yes, this is my brother now.’

Itadori says when you or Gojo see a ‘stray’ it’s the epitome of the ‘you’re my friend now, we’re having soft tacos tonight’ TikTok sound.

“Thanks, Cho.” Satoru responds with a smile and a squeeze to the shoulder, almost forgetting he isn’t actually his brother-in-law.

The back door opens, and in comes a slightly snowy Shoko Ieiri, who catches his eye.

“Happy birthday, fuckwad.” She says, flicking him in the arm.

“Wow, so kind and gentle. Such a great godmother to set an incredible example.” He smiles, knowing that her greeting was actually the sign that Shoko truly loved him like a brother.

He knew why she’s been outside, she had followed the little pathway to the big tree where a black memorial plaque in a grove on the cottage’s surrounding land. You and him would go down there later.

She stick out her tongue at him and he laughs, rounding the corner to where the table lay.

Sat at the table was you, with your son on your lap - a diligent mama’s boy as you laughed with him, each holding a controller for your baby pink Switch as you raced in Mario Kart.

Beside you, standing up and holding an extortionately large jug of peach juice was his eldest. Megumi was shaking his head at whatever his little brother was saying and the hint of a smile could be seen in the upturned corner of his lips. He flicks his eyes up.

“Happy birthday, dad.” He says, and is immediately pulled into a bone crushing hug with kisses dotted across his face.

“My eldest! My firstborn! We sweet little man!” He cooed as the 21 year old man (only 3 inches shorter than his father, now fully grown) shoves and growls his way out of the intense affection.

“Nawh, let him have his cuddles ‘Gumi. He gets one day a year where he can annoy you without repercussions.” You laugh.

In the midst of the chaos, you and Akio slip away into the kitchen.

Itadori and Choso come in, and sit down followed by Shoko.

Gojo takes his normal seat beside your seat and pours a coffee with extra extra sugar.

Then a small chorus starts up, two small voices and one pretty one - soon turned into the whole room (even Megumi).

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday dear Papa/Dad/Gojo/‘Toru,

Happy birthday to you!”

followed by -

“Hip hip, hooray!”

Akio is carefully holding a stack of waffles, with a flickering candle reading ‘36’ on top and Mirai has paper plates in her hands, as you walk behind them - hands out just in case.

He takes the heavy plate from his son, grateful for his 5 year olds inheritance of his father’s physical strength and height, and blows out the candle, pressing a kiss to the crown of his son’s head.

“Thank you, my lil’ mochi.”

“Make a wish, papa!” Akio shouts.

“Papa wish!”

He looks at the table, wife perched on his lap and surrounded by family.

“No need.” He says, squeezing your thigh.

“Such a sap.” You say, burying your head in his neck.

Everyone tucks into their breakfast, and the sound of happy chatter is soon interrupted by an angry voice of a toddler who inherited her mother’s temper.

“Fuckwad!” Mirai shouted.

You all spin to look at her, and see she dropped a piece of her waffle only for it to be swept away by a fluffy grey cat.

“Shoko?” You ask.

“Yeah, that one was me.” She nods.

You all burst out laughing, before Megumi turns around and asks.

“Are we making it a tradition that the kids learn a new curse every family occasion, cos this is round two.”

“Hey! It's your birthday in two weeks, babe! How about dipshit for that one?“ Yuuji exclaims.

[thebiscuitlabryinth]

[prev]

For some reason, Pure Vanilla's dreams always take place in memories. The situations may be different, and the details may be blurred and absurd, built from a collection of fragmented moments spanning his life, but the locations themselves are always familiar.

That's why it is significant, glaringly so, when he finds himself somewhere he doesn't recognise.

It isn't a small room, but it feels smaller because it is hedged in by the dark shapes of bookshelves and chests. A large desk is nestled to the left, and a window sits ahead, clearly large but covered by a thick curtain. It leaves the room swarmed with shadows that seem to watch and breathe, hardly fended off by the feeble efforts of the desk's waning candelabra.

It makes viewing the room difficult. If he had his staff with him, Pure Vanilla would have cast some light, but he hasn't had it in his dreams for a while now, so he makes do with the meagre light he has. It is enough to realise that the room is a mess, the desk chair tipped over with books, scrolls, papers and quills, many of them looking like they were snapped, strewn about haphazardly. There's an inkwell on its side on the floor, spilling the abyss everywhere and soaking into the floorboards and loose paper.

The new location makes hope spark within Pure Vanilla, but it is dampened slightly by the uneasiness born from the visible disarry. "Where..?"

"This is my old study." As expected, Shadow Milk's voice swirls around the room to greet him, and a moment later, he emerges from the nothingness of the pitch-black corner, the edges of his silhouette blending into the darkness.

He doesn't look surprised or irritated at the sight of this time capsule of a room. No, his face is blank, verging on bored, as it often is when relics of his distant past crop up. It is a welcome sight, if only because Shadow Milk has a tendency of being more seriously receptive to questions when he wears that expression.

"What happened to it?" Pure Vanilla asks quietly, his voice bouncing back loud in his ears anyway. He doesn't move from where he is standing, a little wary of disrupting the mess on the floor before him.

Shadow Milk doesn't have the same hesitation, walking all over the littered documents with his arms folded leisurely behind his back. He peers down at them with a lazy gaze, but his voice and smile is light when he responds. "Oh, nothing interesting! I was just terrible at organisation, I'm sure you've noticed."

Well, being more receptive to questions doesn't mean he answers them honestly or in any kind of straightforward manner. The fact that Pure Vanilla is here already feels like enormous progress, because whether Shadow Milk made a conscious decision to meet here or not, his relative calm now must mean that he is willing for Pure Vanilla to see this, even if he isn't willing to explain its history.

Besides, Pure Vanilla isn't entirely oblivious. He has seen scenes like this before, and he can connect the dots himself.

Shadow Milk steps into the ink puddle and drags the abyssal liquid across the crumpled papers – a clearly intentional move, because he isn't bound by gravity unless he chooses to be – as he continues to scan the mess without a care in the world. He pauses at the edge of the candlelight's reach, squinting as he bends at the waist to get a closer look at a stack of bound papers.

Then, he lights up, dropping down to sit on the floor as he picks the papers up with both hands. He sits on the line between the fading candlelight and the hungry shadows, sinking back into the darkness like it is natural, but his eyes are all bright and his smile feels more genuine.

"One of my playscripts!" Shadow Milk announces, almost sounding giddy as he flicks through the pages with an air of fondness he doesn't quite manage to hide. Then, as if he can't help himself, he puffs his chest out a little and starts proudly explaining, some of his extra eyes flicking over to glance at Pure Vanilla. "I had dozens of these lying around. I never had the time to stage any of them myself, but they were extremely popular back then. That's to be expected, since I was the best wordsmith to grace Earthbread. Still am, to this day!"

In the dim, still moment that follows, stretching long and precious, Pure Vanilla doesn't see the Beast of Deceit before him. He doesn't even see the brilliant scholar, the Virtue of Knowledge, not quite.

What he sees is a Cookie, whole and complex and alive and beautiful, and his heart pangs, softly.

Pure Vanilla feels drawn to him, to the glimpse of something real and present, the current evolution of the past that lays abandoned around them, the past he has grown fond of in stolen glances, and suddenly he is moving. He carefully picks his way across the room, which isn't easy with the mess and the dark, but he manages, tiptoeing around ink and paper.

"It's their loss, to not have my genius plays anymore." Shadow Milk sighs dramatically as he begins to leaf through the script more carefully, silently reading it line by line. An edge of bitterness peeks through his tone. "Nobody knows how to appreciate good artistry these days. What more can you expect from little mindless fools?"

When Pure Vanilla sinks into a kneel beside him, Shadow Milk's extra eyes all gravitate towards him inquisitively, even as his main pair continue to soak in the script. The pressure of them drapes over Pure Vanilla like a cloak as he clasps his hands together in his lap, taking a moment to mull over his own words.

"...Perhaps you should try having a more open mind." He says finally, not unkindly. Shadow Milk stops, still as a statue, before turning to face him with a concerning crack of his neck that, despite knowing his habits by now, still makes Pure Vanilla wince.

"Huh?" The sound is flat and loud, too loud for the shrinking boundary of the study, and it is obvious he is offended.

"I've been thinking about you a lot recently, and your situation." Pure Vanilla admits, something placating lacing into his voice as his attention lingers on that beloved playscript to avoid meeting Shadow Milk's sharp eyes. "Have you ever considered the possibility of your imprisonment ending amicably?"

"Huh?" Shadow Milk repeats, his voice more abrasive as his patience dwindles. He heard him perfectly fine, Pure Vanilla is sure, but he must want an elaboration.

"You seem to think the only chance for your freedom is to escape by force." Pure Vanilla explains, glancing up to take in Shadow Milk's face, his brows furrowed and mouth an unreadable line. "But I'm sure a compromise can be made to some degree. The things you have done are too severe to be settled by an apology alone, but- but if we can agree upon a system of redemption and rehabilitation, then–"

Shadow Milk cuts him off with a wild bout of laughter that rips through the study like a clap of thunder, hunching into himself as he unceremoniously drops the script. He tries to cover his too large grin with a hand, his many eyes pinning Pure Vanilla in place with the frantic look crystallised within them.

"You're joking!" Shadow Milk forces out through his stubbornly smiling teeth, voice gravelly and rattling with traces of laughter just short of hysteria. "Do you even hear yourself? No, no, you must be joking!"

"Not at all. I wouldn't joke about something like this." Pure Vanilla insists, seriousness plain on his face as he shifts to face him fully, a little concerned by the reaction. "Good punishments are meant to teach a lesson. As long as you are willing to learn from it, I don't see why your imprisonment couldn't be renegotiated."

The laughter gives way to a cold silence, and Shadow Milk's eyes narrow as he grits his teeth in a half-scowl, hand still obscuring half his face. "You're serious." He says slowly, words dripping with disdain. Then he huffs, shaking his head as his voice takes on a more playful tone. "Don't be silly, I've told you not to overthink things so much. Besides, the Witches," and here, his attempt at playfulness falters under a charged growl, "would never entertain something like that. Cowards, all of them!"

Maybe Pure Vanilla is reading into things, overthinking just like Shadow Milk accuses him of doing, but he can't help hearing a note of hurt in his voice. The fact he brought up the Witches so quickly speaks volumes by itself, and sorrow and pity bubble together in Pure Vanilla at the thought of what Shadow Milk must view as the greatest betrayal.

"...I don't think they'll mind." Pure Vanilla says after a moment of consideration, folding his hands in his lap. "The Witches rarely interfere with the lives of Cookiekind – at least, not since I was baked. Even when you broke the Seal and escaped briefly, they showed no signs of interference."

"Cowards." Shadow Milk mutters again with a tight, sardonic smile. "Afraid of reaping what they've sowed. Of course they don't dare to show their faces anymore!"

Pure Vanilla frowns slightly, but chooses not to comment, glossing past that to deliver his point. "That means the terms of your continued imprisonment solely relies on the Faeries and White Lily, now."

"Yes, yes, yes, do you think I don't know that?" Shadow Milk huffs again, waving an impatient hand as he leans back against thin air. "And? Are you going to, what, appeal our case to our great and wise Guardian?"

"Well, yes, that is the idea." Shadow Milk blinks owlishly at him as if that was a surprise, and Pure Vanilla adds sheepishly. "Not immediately, of course. There are more pressing matters at the moment, and I don't want to add more stress to her shoulders." Then, quietly, more to himself. "...She's going through enough as it is."

The look Shadow Milk gives him is complicated, far too complicated to parse in the sparse lighting. When he speaks, it is weighted with disdain and disbelief. "That's actually your plan?"

"If you're willing to consider it seriously." Pure Vanilla's reply is sterner to express his own determination, a little frustrated by the lack of cooperation, but when Shadow Milk remains visibly suspicious, he softens again and sighs.

Of course he's supicious. Nobody has tried to lend him a helping hand since his fall from grace. To be forsaken like that would make anyone somewhat jaded.

"...Remember what you told me? We are the same." Pure Vanilla begins patiently, keeping his voice calm and soothing as he shifts a little closer to him. "We just fall on opposite ends of the same spectrum. I could fall to darkness, but it is just as likely that you could return to the light."

"Yes, and didn't I tell you that was a stupid thing to say?" Shadow Milk muses mockingly, head lolling too far to one side for his neck to still be intact. And yet, he was playing along, the whole of his attention resting on Pure Vanilla with a sense of intruige. That was enough to encourage him.

"You did, but you also told me that people change, didn't you?" Pure Vanilla continues steadily, not hindered by Shadow Milk's lazy rebuttal. "I understand you meant that Cookies can change for the worse, but quantifiers always exist in pairs, so the opposite is also true. Cookies – you can change for the better."

The flickering candlelight makes the colour of Shadow Milk's face murky, accentuating his flat expression as he straightens his head back on his shoulders with a dull crunch. His eyes burn like shooting stars as he says slowly, overpronouncing each syllable, "Possibilties are never guaranteed."

"Guarantees leave no room for possibilities. Similarly, an endless imprisonment leaves no room for change and growth." Pure Vanilla argues back mildly, and in an attempt to connect with him, he finds himself reaching out for Shadow Milk's hand. He clasps it gently between both of his, pulling it closer to his own chest as Shadow Milk's expression momentarily shutters in surprise.

"You've been abandoned for a long time, and I'm sorry about that." Pure Vanilla murmurs, head leaning closer to make sure Shadow Milk can hear him as he warms his cold, dissolving hand between his palms. "You have done awful things, and you needed to be stopped, but it is cruel of them to bury you alive without any chance to redeem yourself, to condemn you to stagnation."

Shadow Milk doesn't interrupt. His eyes rest squarely on their joint hands, and he makes no attempt to pull away, despite his intial surprise. His expression betrays nothing.

"I know you reject the idea on grounds of impossibility, but I truly believe you can change for the better." Pure Vanilla smiles down at their hands, voice warm and earnest, and it is the truth. He looks up, making sure to meet Shadow Milk's bright, bright eyes to convey his sincerity. "I believe in you. More than that, I care about you."

The word comes out a little shy, but not hesitant. He is making a point – trying to show that even if Shadow Milk may feel like he has been abandoned to rot, that doesn't have to be the truth.

Shadow Milk breaks his stony silence with a click of his tongue.

"You care too much about too many things." He retorts, a taunting lilt filtering into his voice as the corners of his mouth curl upwards. "That doesn't mean much. It just makes you a fool with a bleeding heart."

"And that doesn't make any of what I say less true." Pure Vanilla replies easily, projecting confidence. He refuses to let Shadow Milk scare him off now. "I really do care about you."

He hesitates for a tense second before moving one hand to cup Shadow Milk's cheek, to show him in actions. Shadow Milk stiffens under the touch, but relaxes in the next blink, baring too many teeth in a lopsided grin that dances along Pure Vanilla's palm, still vaguely mocking.

"Really?" Shadow Milk drags the syllables out, pressing his face into Pure Vanilla's hand as his narrowed eyes never waver from him. The darkness creeps over his shoulders, the protection of the old candelabra gradually shrinking. "Why, I didn't think you could be such a flirt!"

"I mean it, wholeheartedly. You can always tell when I lie, you must know this is the truth." Pure Vanilla insists and insists, because it is all he can do, a strange desperation starting to form, now that he can imagine a peaceful solution so clearly. He grips Shadow Milk's hand tighter, but the hand on his face remains carefully gentle. "All I want to do is help you, if you'll let me."

It is important that it is a choice Shadow Milk makes, and not something forced upon him. It won't work if it is forced. Still, as Shadow Milk's eyes grow lidded, Pure Vanilla suddenly can't bear to watch anymore.

"So please," he whispers as he closes his eyes, body leaning forward with the weight of his urgency, "can I...?"

There is a beat where there is stillness, and then Shadow Milk lets out a soft laugh, barely more than a breath. Pure Vanilla feels him move forward, fingers brushing his dough as his hand falls away from his face, and then– then–

Then their lips meet, and his mind goes blank.

The kiss isn't gentle. It isn't harsh or aggressive either. It just is, and just as quickly, it isn't again.

Pure Vanilla's dough is burning when Shadow Milk pulls back, his chest warm like the bowels of the oven, his stomach swooping in pleasant and sickening loops. Overwhelmed as he is, it is horribly difficult to open his eyes, but he is compelled with a need to see his face.

Unfortunately, even when he manages to force his eyes open slightly, there isn't much to see. The candelabra is quickly going out, its retreat inviting in a darkness that Pure Vanilla cannot see anything in, let alone the details of a face. The only proof that Shadow Milk is still there at all is the feeling of his hand in his, and the familiar presence of his gaze.

"You can try," Shadow Milk answers from the darkness, a teasing smirk audible in his words, "if you really think you can convince the Guardian of something as elusive as mercy."

Pure Vanilla nods quietly, certain that Shadow Milk can still see him even if the opposite isn't true, his tongue unable to find words quick enough to answer verbally.

When he wakes up, far later than he usually does and well behind schedule, his face is still glowing with leftover heat. He presses his cheeks into the cool surface of his pillow, and feels something in him settle, satisfied.

I can save him.

[next]

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Recap - a Malevolent fic

A certain auteur director doesn't like to repeat himself.

Part of the Surrogate series. Written with @sepiabandensis and @sparklyandheroic.

Quick authors' note:

Hey! It's been a while! :D We had a silly little idea for a recap episode, and unfortunately Kayne has decided you're all the victims. You know how he feels about repeating himself. Hopefully this doesn't bode too ill for our protagonists...

“Listen up, kids. Listen up. It's edumacation time!”

The voice came out of nowhere. So did the pyrotechnics (though the observant might note they came with no heat—this was a library, after all), and the distinct and memorable sound of a smoke machine.

Fog poured across the floor. “Come one! Come all! To the great fan-friendly recap…ap…ap!”

A white sheet suddenly flapped open, hung from nothing in front of Tabby’s armchair.

Kayne’s voice came from nowhere. “I said, come one, come all!” 

Like the floor was greased, acolytes slid quickly around the stacks, all looking startled, quite a few afraid. More armchairs appeared, some made of leather of questionable origin, some that squished uncomfortably when sat on. (One acolyte took a sample of the liquid that came out, because terminal curiosity ran through all of the Keeper’s people.)

Behind them all the Keeper let out a yip as an armchair knocked her metaphorical legs out from beneath her, skirts puffing up in a floof as she was not-unkindly deposited into a seat of her own. “Kayne! What is—”

“Better!” And there he was in the armchair next to her. Kayne had eschewed the normal suit; he was in a fluffy pink bathrobe, with matching slippers, and his hair was in curlers. He leaned over the plush arm, cupping his mouth to stage-whisper to her. “It’s a bit. No harm, no foul. We good?”

“A what?” The Keeper said, voice jumping an octave.

“It’ll be fine, Keeps,” Tabby said, sitting up in her armchair; if she didn’t try to leave it, it seemed she could wriggle around as she pleased. She peeked over the back of it, giving a little wave to the god of the Scriptorium. “It’s just movie night with big brother. Right?” 

“But,” the Keeper pleaded.

Tabby mouthed ‘play along’ at her.

The Keeper sighed. “Movie night, then,” she said, twisting the edge of her veil in her hands.

His smile wasn’t… great. Tight. Eyes angry. “Well, aren’t we lucky you and your experience are here? Shall we?” He offered each of them an enormous bucket of popcorn.

Tabby took one cautious handful. “She’s still learning how to ‘yes, and’. You know. What’d they do this time?”

(Kayne knew what he was doing. He’d provided each acolyte with pen, paper, and little digital cameras to keep them occupied, not unlike giving a child crayons in a restaurant.)

“See,” he said, “we are the audience. That is, we are the stand-in for the audience, who knows who they are, and knows what they did! Or if they don’t, they will. They should know…” His voice dropped an octave. “I don’t. Like. To repeat myself. But it’s that old expression…" He smiled, smooth and baritone again. "‘Those who don’t listen have to feel.’ You know that one? Here’s another: ‘Some people have to learn the hard way.’ And… action!” He snapped his fingers.

There hadn’t been a projector between them a moment before, but now there was. With a whir, it started.

“I understand you’re upset,” the Keeper said gently. “Perhaps you and I should just—”

Tabby twisted in her seat, eyes wide, shaking her head with warning.

The Keeper let out a small sigh, fingers twisting unnaturally amongst each other.

An old-fashioned title-card appeared on the sheet, flickering in black and white: MALEVOLENT: A PRIMER. REEL ONE NOT FOR DISTRIBUTION.

Kayne’s voice sounded not from him (his mouth was full), but from the creaky vintage wall-speakers that appeared in the air around the chairs.

“In the beginning of time,” said Speakers Kayne, and the white sheet suddenly filled with a slow-motion explosion.

Explosion was the wrong word. It was expansion, void-excision, movement and light and depth, a universe being born. It was jerky, a sixteen-frames-per-second view of the past; and at the core of it ( light heat darkness things for which there were no words ) sat a cluster of gods. 

Everyone there could feel them. Like their presence was here, now. 

No one made a sound.

“Hold on a minute,” said Speakers Kayne, followed by a record screech. “Too far back.”

But the reel (if that’s what it was) didn’t stop, and in the moment before the projector seemed to run out of film, its end smacking against the picture head, they all saw a blob of darkness and a million eyes sort of gooping eagerly into a field of shockingly yellow flowers, somehow splashing like water as if in joy for discovering the color.

The reel changed. Flickering, tinny music rolling through, a player piano doing its best. Speakers Kayne resumed. “You all remember this, ” he said, and it was Arthur Lester’s office. No, Parker Yang’s office, shared with Arthur, only Parker was dead. Very dead, throat squeezed so hard it was permanently misshapen. Beside the body, Arthur curled up, gasping. In front of them lay a book.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Speakers Kayne, and the film sped up.

The Scriptorium understood timelines. It wasn’t like anyone there didn’t know this story. But it was one thing to know it, and another to watch it—fast, jerky, funny if the content weren’t so horrific. Arthur and John, on the run. Arthur and John, fighting, killing, driving, crashing. Arthur and John, being lured to the Dreamlands through trickery and mindless obedience. Arthur and John, in terrible, terrible trouble.

The reel ran out in the prison pits.

“Sorry, but we’re doing a time-skip,” said Speakers Kayne. “That one’s a lot of the same thing, you know—back and forth, to the shit-corner and back, eating a guy and crying… blah, blah blah. On we go!”

The new reel started, just as fast.

Amazing, how brief Hastur’s appearance was in this form. Blip: there and gone, descending on Arthur like some kind of magician’s silk cloth, then disappearing again.

Then suddenly, the reel froze. It froze on Arthur in the snow, losing so much blood—impossibly red and shocking in this black and white image. It froze on his face, tormented, agony and pain, twisting him almost into someone else, as his tears froze on his cheeks.

“He ain’t cryin’ over spilt milk!” said Speakers Kayne as though that was just the funniest damn thing on earth.

“Brother,” said the Keeper, and the word was not just coming from her but resonating through the ground, rumbling up through the armchairs.

“Easy,” Tabby said.

“Oh, no no, I’m not being mean! It’s because this is actually the big moment. The moment it all changed for him,” said Speakers Kayne.

“Boo,” said Armchair Kayne. “Keep the commentary to yourself!” He threw some popcorn, which stained the sheet with buttery grease.

Speakers Kayne ignored himself. “See, this is where I… take a hand in things.”

The reel resumed. Faster. Pulling away, as if whatever view this was hung on a rope. Away from the snow, away from the continent, until Earth shrunk to a tiny blue dot, until they were in Carcosa.

Hastur was screaming.

Silent. Which somehow made it worse, arching back, arms and tentacles out, freakishly stop-motion-like, damn near losing his form and reverting to the oily blob that once fell in love with flowers. 

“See, here, ” said Speakers Kayne, “is where I decide what to do. Sometimes, I take just a little bit!”

A blurred movement on the screen which this jerky, sixteen-frames-per-second reel could never have portrayed, smooth and bright and shocking. It felt like a knife, somehow, like some kind of scalpel swung at speed.

The Hastur on screen didn’t seem to notice.

The view changed: suddenly, it was a hand, Kayne’s hand, holding a wriggling, struggling piece of yellow cloth about the size of a young cat. Tiny black tentacles flailed from its bottom; still, it was silent.

“See? My own little proto-Yellow, ready to insert!” said Kayne. “Different sizes do different things. You can tell THE AUDIENCE —” the words echoed outside the Scriptorium, into distant halls and distant ears, into the awareness of those who thought they were safe, thought it was just a story—“that their favorite version is… well, all of him.”

Back to Carcosa.

Back to Hastur, grieving, going through rubble, visibly losing his shit.

And a giant hand came out of nowhere and grabbed him, same as the former hand had held the tiny slice.

“Yoink!” said Armchair Kayne, throwing more popcorn.

(The more observant of acolytes realized at this point that the grease stains were forming some very dangerous runes, and averted their eyes.)

Giant Kayne (with a backdrop of planets, of spinning galaxies) smiled at the camera, eyes in full shadow, and gave the other half of the King in Yellow a shake. “Would you believe there’s a timeline where this guy is in Larson?” He threw back his monumental head and laughed, each guffaw shaking the room, rattling the bookshelves.

Then he tossed the King over his shoulder.

“But that’s not what you get!” announced Speakers Kayne, and the reel… rewound.

Back to Carcosa. Back to Hastur, barely maintaining his form, flying over rubble and trying to find anything left, anything that survived, anyone.

That impossibly smooth white swipe again, like the flash of a knife. “Different sizes do different things!” said Speakers Kayne again. “Anyone remember this guy?”

A tiny golden hamster appeared—strange, with little horns and little face tentacles, in an airy, clean cage on a table they all recognized—as the thing sat less than twenty feet away. 

“The Yellow that made was a real menace! But what was left barely squeaked by,” said Speakers Kayne, and a laugh-track followed.

None of the acolytes laughed.

“What was left of Hamstur was too small, but I’ll tell you what… then it became a challenge!” said Speakers Kayne, and once again, the reel rewound.

Once again, Carcosa—the King, on the ground now and draped like a funeral shroud over some body no one could recognize in the condition it had been left. 

Swipe.

The hand reappeared. In it sat a tiny, tiny Hastur.

Music piped over it: “Suuuuunny days, sweeping the… clouds away…”

“Sunny?” gasped someone.

“Yep!” said Speakers Kayne, fourth walls be damned. “At least, I assume one of you said his cute widdle name, so anyway: smallest version of this guy I could get with any sort of independence or personality. Speaking of personality!”

The reel ended.

Awkwardly, taking his time, making it hurt, Armchair Kayne rose, took the old reel off, and fumbled with the new one, muttering. One of his hair-curlers fell out and bounced under Tabby’s seat.

The reel started again. 

Addison. A portrait showing a man, Larson, from a hundred years ago. 

The reel sped up even more quickly, as if this wasn’t worth anyone’s time. 

Armchair Kayne plopped back in his seat. “Boo! Unremarkable! Boo!”

And then Arthur—

Wait. This wasn’t what happened. Was it?

Arthur went to New York City. 

The Butcher almost got him (and their shotgun race through apartments was… something to watch at this speed).

He met with Charlie Dowd-Noel, and sprang the Butcher, and they all headed up north to face the Order of the Fallen Star, and…

Through the speakers, high-pitched, came Arthur’s frustrated sped-up voice: “Larson’s not here?”

Wah-wah-waaaaah, sounded a sad trombone. “Sunny too liddol,” said Speakers Kayne. “Too tiny. No projection. So Larson missed the party in his honor. Alack and alas!”

The whole affair still went to shit. 

Elder Things, a freaky machine, cultists all over, a horrifying-looking man (“Stupid Vizier!” shouted Armchair Kayne. “Boo!”) with some kind of thing on his head, its tentacles buried deep in his eyes and ears, dried blood no one had bothered to clean all over his face, dried in streaks down his neck.

The cult died, messily and bloodily, defending nothing.

At the end, Arthur still stood. So did Charlie Dowd.

So did the Butcher, but whoever was in control of this film didn’t care about him. Arthur and Dowd—Noel—limped out. (Armchair Kayne laughed: “Look at ‘em go!”) They drove back to the city. Noel, there, handing documents to Arthur before they parted ways. 

Arthur, stopping by the hospital—

(And there was a flash just a glimpse just a moment of Kayne standing above Daniel’s bed with that same galactic smile, eyes in shadow)

—just in time to say goodbye before Daniel died from his wounds.

Grieving, weeping, Arthur fled.

“You see,” said Speakers Kayne, and several acolytes jumped, “at this point, he couldn’t stay. He’d be implicated in so many murders! I mean, that would’ve been fun, but Noel was…” A sigh. “A good friend, and got him out. Papers. Names. Look at him go!”

The driving, though sped-up, was kept in its entirety. Arthur, driving, John’s eyes and hand navigating, as daylight slid over his face and abandoning it to darkness, as headlights played across his pale cheeks to show his still-falling tears.

“They fucked off!” said Speakers Kayne. “To Vermont! Oh, look how cute it is!”

A brief zoom-in on a door with “Peter Saltzman, P.I.” in stencil.

The reel ran out. This time, like the first, it replaced itself.

Music started—a tinny, solo violin, as the camera pulled back slowly from that closed door.

And it was interrupted by Arthur’s scream.

“See,” said Speakers Kayne, “he couldn’t get away now. Too many things just got Fucking Lestered (how’s that for a tag), and between the nightmare-eater and our lovely King, he couldn’t be left alone. Bad dreams! Bad memories! I, uh. Wasn’t as involved here as I should’ve been, to be perfectly honest. Kinda missed what Blondie was doing? Arthur failed my test, see (and this is an aside to the audience you’re standing in for, you lucky devils). Without a worthless little man and his fucked-up god-piece to follow, they never found what I wanted, so I’d moved on. But then!”

Another title card appeared: MEANWHILE IN ANOTHER WORLD...

Hastur.

Hastur, casting dangerous spells, the kind of wild magic that required even him to create a rune circle, to set protections. Hastur, casting some magic with all his limbs raised and dripping as if it had cost him much blood.

And an infant girl appearing in the center of the circle and beginning to cry.

“Oh wait, wait!” said Speakers Kayne. “Also!”

A third title card appeared:MEANWHILE IN ANOTHER OTHER WORLD...

A woman. A goddess of some kind, with black hair, and pale skin, and they knew her even if they didn’t know her, and—

“Nevermind that bitch,” said Speakers Kayne with a weirdly frustrated affection, and the film sped up yet again, granting the briefest glimpses of this woman dressed in red, of this woman reaching into darkness as if into the aether, and of Arthur twisting in bed, tormented by dreams.

The excess speed suddenly stopped.

The reel continued to roll, but abruptly, it was not jerky, not old-timey at all. No: right now, it was real.

They were all staring through the sheet at a broken-down school-house basement, abandoned somewhere in Vermont, where Arthur Lester, on his knees, gawked toward a young Faroe.

She was precious. Dressed in yellow, happy, healthy, and her little brow knit as she tried so hard to do… whatever she was trying to do here. “You should say sorry,” she said in a high, sweet voice. “Since you were bad.”

The cracking sound was sharp, loud, echoing. It hurt; several acolytes put their hands over their ears, and all of them jumped.

Arthur… lost all his color.

The rest of this scene continued to play out for a few moments, in this grimy old basement: the little girl, all a-glow in health; the god behind her, gleaming and smearing as if whatever camera this was couldn’t quite hold his image; and Arthur, who was now gray, who was black and white, as if he no longer belonged in the scene at all.

“But you know all that, ” said Speakers Kayne, and without giving anyone time to process anything, the film sped up again. It went back to projection on a sheet, but this time, it stayed full-color.

They saw Arthur go to Carcosa.

They saw him skinned. (Blood dripped to the floor, staining the edges of the sheet.)

They saw him marked, though not what caused it. (“Boo!” shouted Armchair Kayne. “There was some good sex in the Woods, too, afterward,” he told Tabby in over-loud confidence, “but you know how it is—a good director never shows his face on film.”)

They saw Faroe grow, and Arthur adapt (but he stayed gray). They saw John rage, and Dis get involved, and Arthur finally put on some weight (but Arthur stayed gray).

They saw music, and glimpses of the beginning of Rites (“Gotta keep the archive warnings consistent, I guess, ” said Armchair Kayne), and preparation for the Games, and Faroe—

A moment of Faroe, holding The Once and Future King.

Fast forward.

Faroe running away. Hastur taking Arthur and John on a road-trip from hell to find her. Hastur’s son (“He doesn’t know any of this part,” said Armchair Kayne), Gokar’luh, making so many preparations, first fueled with the smoldering embers of being wronged and the bellows of a revenge promised, and then, when Faroe spoke to him with kindness, a moment where that armor cracked and he wept for the unjustness of it all. His tears were bright as gold.

Disaster.

For a moment, the screen went dark. Someone made a low, choked sound, like an abortive sob.

It resumed, quick again, flitting from scene to scene. 

Hastur. (With a gray crack through his whole form, like he was a photograph that had been badly folded.

Parker. (The film slowed a bit to show his little adventure, stealing and rescuing Sunny, and their time on the run.)

Larson. (Only in red tights and with his Van Dyke, though, as if earlier moments didn’t deserve the footage.)

Dagon getting involved, and gods beginning to question what the hell was going on with this composer, and Faroe growing sure and strong atop her striding beast, and Dis reluctantly drawn into the drama ( “Lestered!!” both Kaynes said at once).

Hastur slipping out at night to make Carcosa safe, Hastur making new enemies who were then defeated, Dickensian-looking Ialdagorth sneering directly at the camera, Arthur poisoned (and the reel, for no reason, focused on him throwing up horrible black chunks for more than a moment too long), and John forgetting who he was (and… growing? Bigger? Glimpses of his whole self, too large for Arthur, leaking out his colorless pores), and the crack in Hastur widening, and Arthur still gray, and a birds-eye view of a crazy double-birthday celebration with a genuinely heartwarming image of Arthur (still gray and shocking against that bright-lit sky) holding Faroe, atop some tower, watching the pyrotechnics, his head resting on hers.

A single second (sound included) of a full-color three-dimensional deeply enthusiastic Odd getting deeply, enthusiastically railed by—

“Oops, sorry! Even the best directors screw up sometimes,” said Speakers Kayne, and cackled. “Anyway, he was into it.”

“No, really, he was into it,” said Armchair Kayne. “Like, a lot. Which I say because there was some confusion. ”

And suddenly the reel was done.

THE END? appeared in a title card, followed by six seconds of wildly dramatic music over a groundhog looking absolutely aghast. 

Armchair Kayne stood, whooping and clapping, as the lights came back up.

Everyone felt… dazed. Dizzy. Acolytes took eyes off of the screen and shared glances with each other. Some looked visibly nauseous, trembling in the seats; others wiped blood from their eyes.  

Kayne’s clapping slowed. His smile faded. His eyes darkened, as if the curlers in his hair were somehow casting impenetrable shadow. “Pity,” he said.

It was obviously leading. The silence had to break. “Wh… what is?” said someone.

“They made me repeat myself.” Kayne shook his head, tsk -ing softly. “They’re going to regret they did.”

And he vanished. 

The projector exploded, pieces skittering across the floor.

All the armchairs he’d conjured vanished, dumping acolytes onto their asses. Notes scattered everywhere, and one checked to see if the liquid sample had vanished or not. It had not. 

“Keeps?” said Tabby slowly. “What… what the fuck just happened?”

The god’s sigh was heavy. “Something that bodes very, very ill for the players of Carcosa. At least he gave us some warning.”

“Should we try and warn them?” Tabby said, twisting in her chair.

“It won’t help. They’re not even the targets, someone else is.” The Keeper sank into her chair, boneless, miserable. “I hope you lot are happy.”

Tabby frowned. “Who?”

“Don’t worry about it,” the Keeper sighed.

Abandoned on the floor, the grease-stained sheet shivered as if alive, until an acolyte finally took it away to study.

-----------

NOTES

A tinny, solo violin A groundhog looking absolutely aghast Glorious baby-Hastur-loves-yellow drawn by @flamdoodles!

[burninghalls]

❝the archons have sent me a fool to love❞

summary: alhaitham is a fool and you hate him so pairings: alhaitham x gender neutral reader tw/cw: enemies to lovers (obviously), one sided hatred, hurt/comfort, alhaitham is an oblivious dense idiot, happens before sumeru archon quest (they still have the Akasha Terminal), maybe ooc but I hope not too much

If it wasn’t for the cold breeze of the rain or the fastening drops of water, you would’ve gotten home by now. You made sure to check the weather forecast this morning; you even did a double-check in case you read the wrong thing. It was said that the day was going to be mostly sunny with a bit of cloudy weather during the evening. But alas, you’ve been fooled once more by the now questionable data from Akasha Terminal.

Was this Lesser Lord Kusanali’s doing? Is this the punishment you have to endure as the result of the long-lasting unfaithfulness toward the archons you’ve held for so long? Whatever this is, sulking under the roof of the Akademiya is not going to help you one bit. But then again, you would rather not get your clothes soaked.

Perhaps you can ask Kaveh for help.

The reminder of the lovely blond architect has put your mind at ease. Perhaps Kaveh has decided to bring an umbrella before he leaves this morning, or even if he didn’t, then you can at least have someone to sit around with while waiting for the rain to stop.

The walk to the House of Daena isn’t something to fret about. In a few minutes, you can already see the door leading to the inside of the enormous library. Sometimes you wonder how many kinds of books are available in there. You love reading as much as the rest of the students do, but even you know there are still hundreds of books whose covers you haven’t marked with your fingers. Still, reading is an essential need for a student, even if it manages to tire you one of these days.

But just to your luck, you couldn’t spot the familiar lock of blond hair upon entering the place. You’ve even asked some people around if they have seen Kaveh in the past hours, but most of them were too enamored by the contents of their books to notice anyone around. Plus, judging by the thick papers of each book they hold, it would be safe to assume they have been enamored for at least the whole day. You might’ve felt sorry for their workloads if it weren’t for the stacks of paper that have been untouched for days, just laying around on your own table at home.

"I thought you left an hour ago."

Great, just great. How can this day be any worse than this? Surely it cannot.

Kaveh has said a lot of things about Alhaitham. The most dominant words to describe the seemingly harmful man are arrogance and pride. You’re not someone who judges people so quickly just by what others think about them. But Alhaitham is a special case. Being in the same Darshan as the man isn’t helping your resentment towards him either.

"It started to rain a while ago. I had to take care of some stuff before I leave, and suddenly I noticed the water drops," you explained coldly, never once looking at him. You busy yourself once again with scanning the room, looking for someone to save you from the horrible disaster you’re about to encounter.

"You didn’t bring an umbrella?" he asks of you, and your brain starts forming the conclusion that Alhaitham is very dense at noticing your looks of hatred towards him. He’s always been like this, even since the first day you mocked him bluntly in front of his own face. "Are you looking for Kaveh?"

Dense, but not stupid. "I was, but I couldn’t find him. Do you know where he is?" You may as well ask him now that he’s more than willing to start a conversation with you. The feeling is not mutual, however.

"He went home early to finish some of his deadlines. You know how he is." Classic Kaveh and his stupid tendencies toward procrastination. "I can take you to him if you want. He’s my roommate after all."

"I didn’t bring my umbrella this morning," you answered him with a polite smile, as polite as you could muster. "It’s fine, I’ll wait here until the rain stops."

"That won’t do." You finally looked over at him for the first time since he first talked to you. You can see his brows furrowing with the determined gaze he throws at you. Oh no, this is never a good sign. "I can’t let you wait here for the rest of the day. Who knows when the rain will finally come to an end? I insist you let me take you home since I’ve brought an umbrella with me."

"No, it’s okay." You insist on having him back.

"No, please. Let me help you just this once." He’s a very persistent man, but you’re as stubborn as a rock.

"You don’t have to pretend to care like this," you said. "I know you would rather go home by yourself, and frankly, so do I. Please just let me stay here. I have some unfinished works that need to be done here anyways, and there are some books that I need to read."

Alhaitham drops his cool facade, and you swear you can see a stroke of disappointment painting his face. "Is it the essay from the lecture last week? I’ve already finished mine; perhaps I can help you with that."

He’s infuriating. "I’ve told you, it’s alright, Alhaitham. I would feel indebted to you if you offered me such a favor. I need not have that; I’m capable of doing it by myself."

Before you can walk away from him, however, he decided to win the pointless argument you two have going on. "I’ve been holding the books that you require for the essay. I even asked for an extended period for borrowing the books. I know you know as well that the Akasha Terminal might not offer you information as good as the old books here do. So, I’m afraid staying here any longer would give you no satisfying result at the end of the day unless you reconsider my offer."

You take a deep breath. "How much do I need to pay for you to give me the books, then?"

"Zero mora and a few minutes of your time." His answer makes your blood boil.

Truthfully, when you first met Alhaitham, you didn’t think that any hatred would come between the two of you. He’s a well-educated person, and so are you. With enough time and process, you both might even be able to be friends because your brains work perfectly for each other. And you both did get along at first. Alhaitham’s brain completed yours, as yours did to him. Until the first result for the monthly exam came in.

You were in second place, and honestly, at that time, you were fine with it. Life doesn’t have to be a competition; as long as you get a good score, you’re more than happy with your result. That was until Alhaitham told you about his score. You knew Alhaitham quite well at that time, so it didn’t surprise you that he had managed to score first on the rankings. You were about to give him a congratulatory note when he started to compare his results with yours. Ending the day with broken pride, you decided to stay away from Alhaitham from now on. It angered you more when he approached you the next day, not knowing that his words from the day before had managed to hurt you more than he realized. When you told him about this, however, he answered with an unbothered reply that sounded like he did mean to hurt your feelings after all.

It was such a shame that you even used to admire him so much during the short period of time you both bound yourselves into a friendly relationship. If it wasn’t for Kaveh, you might’ve avoided the man like a plague the moment you decided to end things with him.

"Why do you want to be with me so badly? This isn’t the first time you’ve done this, you know? I’ve told you many times I don’t want to be associated with you anymore." He flinched at your words.

Alhaitham nods after a beat. He doesn’t look like he likes the decision you’ve made, but he can’t do anything about it. "I’ll leave once you tell me why you’ve been avoiding me for months now. Did I do something wrong to you?"

With all your might, you hold yourself back from groaning in annoyance. Is he playing with you right now? How could he not know? "Because you’re arrogant and too prideful for my liking. Remember that one time you bragging about your score being higher than mine? Or that time you literally shoved your achievements in my face?"

"Huh?" He seems to be deep in thought, perhaps calculating his next words to minimize the damage he could’ve brought to this conversation. "You don’t like it when I do that?"

"I don’t what?" Now you’re just as confused as ever.

"I wasn’t familiar with the concept of relationships that much; the only strong relationship that I’ve had is the one with my grandmother," he begins. "I’ve had friends before, but none I can call a close friend. Kaveh is another example of a failed result of me trying to befriend someone, though it’s mostly his fault for having such an insufferable personality. But then there’s you. We clicked almost instantly, and perhaps you’re the only person I can tolerate. Your company is actually quite enjoyable for me, and I wish I could spend more time with you. What I’m trying to say is that the bragging I’ve been doing to you was an attempt to impress you."

"Impress me?"

"Yes, impress you. But it seems like it’s not as effective as I thought it would be." You think? " There was this one book that I read once, when you were still talking to me, that spoke about how to get closer to someone. At that time, I needed help since I loved what we had, and I would do anything to keep it that way. I was afraid that my upbringing might cause a strain in our newfound relationship, so I read the book until the very last page. One of the passages said that people like it when you’re proud of yourself and confident of your own talents. So I did so to you, but now that I think about it, I overdid it a bit."

This man is ridiculous. "I agree, you did overdo it. I tried to tolerate it once, but after it happened again, I figured being friends with you would only cause the both of us pain. I don’t want to compete with my own friend." He sighs at your words. "But, I do realize that I should’ve told you about what I felt. Instead of just running away from you, I should’ve said something to fix it. I won’t stand here to lie and say that I’ve never liked your company as well."

With carefully threaded words and a calculative mood on his side, he raised his arms to reach yours, and you accepted him. "I’m truly sorry. I never knew my words would bring you such pain. I should’ve been more careful about how I acted around the people I loved."

The people, who what?

Alhaitham is quick to notice your distressed expression. "Forgive me. You don’t have to say anything right away, and you can even reject my advances now if you want. I won’t force you to reciprocate the feelings I have for you, but I can’t keep it within me if we want to try to at least be friends again. I've really missed you, and if you want, we can try to salvage our broken relationship. I care not what you think of me after this; I ask nothing but your forgiveness."

He said it so simply that you wouldn’t feel your stomach doing a flip and your heart being stabbed by thousands of swords just by hearing his words. In truth, your feelings for Alhaitham have always been more than just friendship since the very beginning. The man is undeniably handsome, and his intelligence has only made him more attractive in your eyes. Perhaps that is why the hatred you feel for him runs deeper than the hatred you would’ve felt if he were merely a friend. To witness the scholar confess himself before you is indeed another thing. But even then, you tried to compose yourself, even with the raging tide inside of you.

"You’re saying that you have had feelings for me all along?" You laugh as he sighs in embarrassment. "You’re quite adorable, you know. I’m surprised you didn’t tell me about this way earlier; it seems like you’re not as stupid as I thought."

"I’m not stupid. Just inexperienced," he defends himself, but smiles along when his eyes catch your own. "You’ve hurt me too, you know. I may have the most faults, but you aren’t innocent either."

"Hm, you’re right. I’m sorry. And for the record, your feelings are definitely reciprocated," you said. "We’re both so stupid."

Alhaitham then tugs at your hands, trying to drag you away with him. "Now that that’s settled, I assume you won’t mind me walking you home then?" You notice the way he looks away from you in an attempt to hide his blush. But still, you agreed to his request happily.

"As long as you promised to show me the book you mentioned earlier later. I’m curious now that you’ve brought it up."

He groaned at your request but agreed anyway. You wonder what Kaveh would think about the two of you now.

[mysteryhackin]

Wow, time flies when you're writing for Stanuary! I can't believe it's Saturday already! Enjoy week 2; Posses and Sacrifice!

Stan finds Ford's private study, and along with it, some blueprints that will help him fix the portal and bring his brother home. But he also accidentally summons someone who wants to help- or does he?

Stan let out a triumphant whoop as he heard the definitive click of the golden lock on the wooden door.  It had taken him weeks to figure out how to get the elevator to the portal room to stop at Level 2, and most of the day to pick the lock- even though he was quite good at that particular skill.  He had spent the past few months turning Ford’s house upside down looking for answers about how to bring him back, and this mysterious level under the house was the only place he hadn’t been able to get to.  But now…  hopefully he would find some answers that would finally get his brother back.

Stan took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

The room was pitch black, so Stan flicked on the flashlight he had brought with him.  A shiver went down his spine as he saw cloth covering the walls and what must have been pieces of furniture.  It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before; he had been in plenty of abandoned houses in his time, but there was something about this particular room that gave him the heebie jeebies.

He found a light switch on the wall near the door and turned it on, but the light didn’t make the creepy feeling go away.  He ignored it, brushing it off as nervousness from what he might find-or might not find, and noticed a large desk covered in books and stacks of papers.  Stan’s heart gave a little leap as he thought of what may be in those papers, and he quickly walked over to the desk.

Of course, in his hurry, he tripped over one of the drop cloths, pulling it to the floor and causing a chain reaction pulling the rest of the cloth away all around the room.

He stopped mid curse as he saw what he had just exposed.

The room was covered in tapestries of a triangle with one eye- always a somewhat creepy symbol, but made even creepier by the spindly arms and legs coming out from its body.  And…

Stan squinted as he walked towards one of the tapestries to get a better look.

Sure enough, the triangle was wearing a top hat and bow tie.

“What the…” Stan muttered, too confused to even finish his sentence. 

He turned to the rest of the room, and, almost as if on autopilot, tore down the rest of the drop cloths.  Aside from one enormous computer, they all had shared a theme.  The statues, crystal pyramids, and stacks of drawings were all of the same anthropomorphic triangle.

Stan stood speechless, staring at the shrine surrounding him in shock.

“Ford,” he finally breathed, shaking his head and sinking to his knees.  “What did you get mixed up in?”

A chill went down his spine, and he whipped his head up to look around the room.  The tapestries were still; no breeze had come into the room.  But the past ten years had taught Stan to never brush off stuff like this, so he quickly stood up, grabbed a few piles of paper off of the desk, and got out of the secret room as fast as he could.

Stan spent hours into the night separating the notes into piles on the kitchen table- one pile for the things that were coherent and things that made no sense. Some of the notes had completely different handwriting than Ford, and Stan wondered if there was an assistant he could track down somewhere.  But something about that handwriting didn’t make Stan want to find whoever it was if he could help it-  whoever it was had a mind that was more unhinged than Ford’s, but seemed to enjoy it. 

He had no idea how long he had been going at it when he froze at the sight before him.  No, it couldn’t be.  It couldn’t be.

Blueprints.

Blueprints of the portal.

There was nothing else they could be blueprints of.  Every waking moment of the past few months of Stan’s life had been immersed in that insane contraption downstairs- and here it was, every piece, every part, carefully labeled with notes and…

There was a note in the handwriting that wasn’t Ford’s that said, “For divine and otherworldly insight”, followed by a couple of lines of what seemed like gibberish.  Weird.  That guy must have really been losing it.  Maybe it was one of those things that made sense when you read it out loud? 

Stan shrugged and read the words, his voice croaking from underuse.  When he had come to the end of the line, he paused to see if anything had changed in his understanding of the words, but no luck.  But it didn’t matter.  He had blueprints for the portal.

He started laughing. Laughing in relief, in exhaustion, in elation.  He was going to get Ford home soon, and everything was going to be OK…

By the time his laughter faded, he slumped to the floor, starting to feel the effects of his excited adrenaline boost fade.  Geez, he was so tired.  He should probably drag himself to bed soon; he could start work on the portal tomorrow... 

“Hey tough guy, how’s it going?” a voice said just out of Stan’s eyeline.

Stan turned towards the voice to face a glowing yellow triangle with stick arms and legs, one eye, and, of course, a bow tie and a top hat.  Stan rolled his eyes and once more let out a sigh.  “Great.  This is normal.”  He muttered.  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Knew I shoulda had that extra can of Pitt.”  He looked up at the triangle.  “I’m asleep, right?  I mean, why else would I be having a conversation with that creepy triangle from Ford’s secret room?”

“Hey, you’re pretty smart!” It responded casually, growing bright every time he spoke.  “Not a lot of people get that they’re dreaming when they talk to me!”  The triangle moved closer.  “Not bad, Stan.”

Stan squinted.  “Do I know you?” he asked slowly.

“Ha, you will soon!  Me and you are gonna be best friends, buddy,”  The triangle tipped his hat. “Name’s Bill Cipher, and I’m here to help!” he held out a hand to shake, and Stan automatically took it, giving it one terse shake, automatically squeezing just a little too hard to add some intimidation.

“Help with what?” Stan asked suspiciously.

Despite the triangle not having a mouth, Stan knew he was smiling.

Stan jerked himself awake, then slumped in his chair, groaning.  As if seeing the stupid triangle everywhere in Ford’s study wasn’t freaky enough, he had to dream about it too. And of course his subconscious had to give it a really annoying voice.

He shook his head to clear his mind, but nothing seemed to get better.  The weird dream cemented that there was nothing more he could do tonight.  Best to start fresh the next day.  He wondered how long he could get away with closing the Murder Hut- could he get Ford back before he ran out of money again?  Tomorrow, he told himself firmly.  He’d figure it all out tomorrow.

As he lay in bed and his eyes closed, his thoughts drifted to his brother, like they usually did.  Stan was going to save Ford, and then everything was going to be just like it used to be…

“And so then I said to Ford, ‘not with that algorithm!’” the triangle- Bill- started laughing at whatever joke he had set up.  Stan grinned, his survival instincts telling him to laugh along even if he didn’t understand the joke… or actually didn’t remember the joke.

“Wait, hang on,” he said, taking a step back.  “What’s going on?”

“You’re asleep again, Champ!” Bill responded, one of his arms impossibly extending to hit Stan on the back.  “We were just getting to know each other.”

Stan folded his arms and furrowed his brow. “I don’t remember-”

“Yeah yeah, people usually don’t remember the first couple of minutes,” Bill waved an arm dismissively.  “That’s why I like to shoot the breeze.  But now that you’re all here, let’s talk about saving your brother.”

Stan’s eyebrows shot up and his heart started racing.  “Wh- are you serious?  How do you know about-” He stopped and swallowed.  “You want to help me save my brother?”

“Definitely!” Bill answered excitedly.  “Fordsy and I go way back!  And I can help you with those blueprints- it’s right up my alley!  But I need a little something from you!”

“Yeah?” Stan said, careful to keep his voice neutral.

“In case you haven’t figured it out by now,” Bill breezily continued, “I’m can only manifest in the astral plane, which is a place-”

“Where you go when you dream and can talk to spirits, yeah, yeah,” Stan said impatiently.  “My ma was a psychic- fake or not, I know about the astral plane.”

Bill stared at him for a split second.  “Very good.” He said in a flat voice, as if he didn’t quite know what  to make of Stan’s statement.  But then his casual tone returned.  “Looks like I was right on- you’re smarter than you look!”

Stan barked a laugh and grinned at Bill.  “I’ll always take that as a compliment!”  he said.  “So what’s this about saving my bro?”

“You need to get that portal up and running again, right?”  Bill asked.  “Lucky for you, I know what all that stuff on the blueprint means!  But here’s the kicker,” Bill moved as if he were leaning on something, even though it looked like air to Stan.  “I know you didn’t have the same training as Ford, so even though you could easily learn what he knew, it would just be a lot easier if you let me use your body to just breeze through and get her up and running.”

Stan snorted.  “Use my body?  You gotta be kidding me.” 

“I’m not- it’s totally normal!” Bill answered.  “And look, because I like you and Ford so much, I’ll sweeten the deal.  I know you got a day job- it’s pretty creative, by the way, great thinking- so I’ll only take over while you sleep.  Sound good?”

Stan didn’t move, but had a half smile on his face.  “So let me get this straight.  You want to posses me, while I’m sleeping, so we can switch on an interdimensional portal-”

“So you can get your brother back,” Bill reminded him.

“Yeah, right.  So I can get my brother back.” Stan said.  “An’ you’re doin’ this all out of the goodness of your own heart?”

“Yeah, out of the goodness of my own heart!” Bill agreed.  “So whatddya say?  Me, you, we get Sixer back by the end of-”

“And what’s in it for you?” Stan interrupted.

Bill froze.  “Huh?” he asked.

“In my experience, there ain’t nobody out there who’s in the business of helpin’ just because they can- especially magical… whatever you are- like yourself.”  He gave Bill a little hard smile.  “I may not have seen as much weird stuff as my brother, but I’ve seen enough.  So what’s your angle?”  His smile suddenly brightened.  “Ha, pretty good pun there, huh?  Angle?  Triangle?  Huh?”

Bill did not seem amused.  “Hilarious.” He said in that same flat voice.  Then he tried again.  “C’mon, Champ, like I told your brother, I’m just here to help- no angle!  Once a millennia I choose a-”

“Bee.  Ess.” Stan annunciated perfectly.  “Sorry Bill, no deal.  I’ve been a salesman for the past ten years and a conman for longer than that, an’ I can tell when someone’s tryin’ to get something over on me.  You really need to work on your pitch.  You’re too eager!  You come right outta the gate fulla flattery, and then immediately get to ‘hey, I’ll give you your fondest wish, all you gotta do is let me posses you’” Stan chuckled and shook his head.  “I’d hafta be some kinda idiot to fall for that.”

“Your brother did.” Bill said coldly, and let the words sink in.  “What’s that say about him?”

Stan saw red and lunged at the triangle, but Bill calmly disappeared and reappeared behind Stan before he could make contact.  Stan whirled around, breathing heavily.  “Bring it on, you one eyed creep!” he yelled.  “I’ll take you down and get Ford back from whatever hell you put him in!”

“Joke’s on you, tough guy, he did it all to himself!” Bill answered viciously.  “But I need that portal open, and there’s no way a moron like you can figure it out by yourself!  So let’s just stop the stupidity and let me take over your meat suit!”

“Forget it!” Stan said.  “I’ll get it him back, but there’s no way you’re helping. You’re the reason Ford got so messed up, aren’t you?” He shook his head, steel in his eyes and in his voice. “That means nothing good’s gonna come from me working with you.”  Stan popped his knuckles as he glared at Bill.  “So get. Lost.”

Bill sighed, causing him to float down then back up again.  “Oh Stanley,” he said.  “You can’t get rid of me.  You shook my hand.”   

It had been a week and a half since Stan had first met Bill, and he was on the verge of completely losing his mind from paranoia and lack of sleep.  Yes, apparently Bill needed permission to posses Stan, but he also could apparently harass Stan as much as he wanted while Stan was asleep.  Bill gave him nightmares- at least Stan hoped they were nightmares- ranging from gory and horrific ways of being killed, to helplessly watching Ford being tortured, to looking in the mirror and seeing his own reflection with a manic smile, his eyes the same glowing yellow and his pupils the same slit shape as Bill’s.

When it wasn’t the nightmares, Bill would talk directly to Stan, trying to convince him to give in.  But Stan wouldn’t.  Not ever.  Not…

He was going crazy, and it was only a matter of time before Bill beat him.

But he wasn’t going to make it easy for the psychotic demon- for that’s the only thing Bill could be, was some sort of demon- and he was going to hold out as long as he could.

Which, judging by how everything was going, wasn’t going to be much longer.

He knew without looking that he was probably the mirror image of his brother the day he fell through the portal- bloodshot eyes, messy stubble, dark circles under his eyes… Stan was good at staying awake; ten years on the road and on the run had given him that skill.  But he was coming up on three days without so much as a nap, and he knew he was going to have to face Bill again in the next couple of hours.  Minutes, really.

Stan sat down- if he didn’t, he was going to fall over- and steeled himself for another night of torture.  He could handle one more night.  One… more…

“I was getting worried,” as usual, the voice came from someone who was just out of Stan’s eyeline.  “I didn’t know if you were going to make it, but I’m glad you did.”

Stan frowned- the voice wasn’t Bill, and it definitely had a more… well… feminine slant to it. Did Bill find out about his abysmal record with women, and was now going to make Stan relive all the times he had been dumped and humiliated?  He took a deep breath and turned, ready to face whatever Bill had set up for him.

The sight that greeted him was more terrifying that he could have thought.  Although the woman standing in front of him wore a beautiful, hooded dress with a jeweled belt, the hood did not hide the fact that she had a mishappen, alien bald head, and seven eyes with pink irises.

“Hot Belgian Waffles!” Stan yelled, jumping back and using a curse he hadn’t used since he was little. 

The woman furrowed her eyebrows- all seven of them- and then understanding crossed her face. “Ah.  I understand.  Pardon me.”  She paused, and shimmered into a different form, deep purple hair flowing out from her hood, her face changing shape, and her eyes diminishing to two, although her irises remained pink.  “Is that better?”

Stan’s jaw dropped.  She was gorgeous.

Then he shook his head to snap himself out of it.  “I don’t know what Bill’s playing at, but I ain’t gonna fall for it.”

The woman gave him a concerned smile.  “I’m not one of Bill’s tricks.  I’m Jheselbraum.  You can think of me as… the opposite of Bill.”

“What the he-” he stopped, looking at Jhel... Jheb… the woman’s intense stare, and swallowed.  “uh, heck, is that supposed to mean?”

Her shoulders shook a little bit as she tried not to laugh, and her hair sparkled.  “I’m here to help.”

“Look lady, I already told you I ain’t falling for any of Bill’s…” he trailed off as he noticed a there was a different feel to this dream.  There was a calm presence surrounding the woman, and suddenly Stan felt more relaxed than he had in weeks.  “…tricks,” he finished softly.

The woman raised her hand and met Stan’s eyes.  “You can feel that, can’t you?  Bill in his chaos and evil is incapable of creating any feelings of peace like you are feeling now.”  She gave him a soft nod.  “I assure you, Stanley.  I am not one of Bill’s tricks.”  A cloud passed over her face, and she bowed her head.  “Although he has plenty.”  Her voice turned to steel as she looked back up, and her gaze matched.  “But he cheated, so I am here to restore balance and banish Bill from your mind.”

“Banish Bill from my…”  Stan’s eyes narrowed.  “Uh huh.” He said, unconvinced.  “All right, toots, if you can get rid of Bill so easily, what took you so long?”

“Toots?” she asked, a little sternly.

But Stan was exhausted, annoyed, and even though he wanted this to all be over he still felt like it was too good to be true, and he wasn’t about to kowtow to some being just because she said she was powerful.  He stubbornly met her gaze.  “Yeah, toots.  What’s wrong with that?”

“I gave you my name,” she answered.

Stan scoffed.  “As if I could remember that goobledy gook you just said- at least Bill’s name was easy.”

To his surprise, the woman laughed- a merry, twinkling sound, so unlike Bill’s cruel, manic cackles.  “You may call me Jess.” she said.

“All right.” Stan answered slowly, a little nonplussed.  “But you still didn’t answer my question, Jess.  Why are you here now?  Do you know what I’ve been through?  What I’ve almost done?” he didn’t know if he sounded angry or desperate- probably both.  “And if you’re ‘here to help’, why…” his voice cracked, and he swallowed and grit his teeth before continuing.  “Why didn’t you save Ford from Bill in the first place?”

“I am sorry it took so long,” Jess said sincerely.  “It took us a while to understand how to properly handle your situation.  And as for your brother,”  she paused, and looked so sad Stan felt she understood him for a moment.  “Ford understood he was making a deal with Bill when he shook Bill’s hand.  You did not.”

Stan felt his stomach drop.  “You’re telling me… Ford signed up for this?”  he shook his head.  “No.  No.  Ford might not have been the most street smart of the bunch, but he wouldn’t have made a deal with an actual demon-”

“He did not know the complete consequences, yes,” Jess interrupted.  “But he did understand there was a risk and chose to ignore any warning signs, certain that he could overcome anything if needed.”

A sad chuckle escaped Stan as he looked down and stared at nothing in particular.  “Yeah, that’s Ford.” He paused.  “Heh, that’s me too.  What a pair, huh?”  he looked up at Jess.  “The boys who ruined the universe.”

“Or saved the multiverse,” Jess said quietly.  “If you allow me to take Bill away from you.”

“Of course I’ll allow you to get Bill out of here, what are ya, nuts?” Stan asked impatiently.  “Pound that little freak into the ground already!”

“I wish I could,” Jess said a little fiercely, and even though the whole “Ethereal Being” act was getting on Stan’s nerves, he liked her a little better just then.  “But I cannot defeat Bill Cipher, for reasons we have neither the time nor the background to get into.  But I can make it so he thinks you are not worth contacting, and will therefore leave you alone.  But in order to do that, I need your permission to set up a memory block concerning everything that has to do with Bill Cipher.”

“Yeah, do it!  Forgetting anything that has to do with that creep sounds like the best thing that could happen to-”  Stan stopped short as he realized something.  “Wait.  That means you’re taking away the blueprints, huh?”

Jess nodded.  “I will make it so you think there was nothing on the second floor of the basement and so you have no desire to explore it again, yes.”

Stan closed his eyes.  There had to be some way he could negotiate.  So he tried a different tactic.  “Manipulate my memories?  That sounds like something Bill would do.”

Jess didn’t seem fazed.  “That’s why I’m asking your permission.” She answered matter-of-factly.

Stan snorted.  “So I let you mess with my head or let Bill torture me until I let him mess with my body?  No choice there.”  He turned his back on Jess, hoping she’d see how unreasonable she was being.

“There’s always a choice Stanley.”  Jess said softly behind him. “Bill doesn’t want you to know that, because manipulating people into thinking they have no choice but to do what he wants them to do is what gives him power.  But I’m telling you now,” she put a hand on Stan’s shoulder, and he turned around and saw the sincerity in her eyes.  “There is a choice.  And nothing can ever take that away.”

Stan was silent for a long time.  Finally, he hesitantly spoke.  “Look, I don’t know the whole story, and I don’t wanna, but I can tell if I let Bill posses me and get out into the world, somethin’ real bad will happen. I mean, for one thing, Ford would be really mad at me!” His weak attempt at lightening the mood failed, and his smile faded.  He swallowed, and asked in a small voice.  “But… can I still get him back?  Even without the blueprints?”

Jess pursed her lips.  “Choices cannot be made by knowing every consequence; otherwise they would interfere in growth.  But let me ask you this, Stanley Pines- what would happen if I told you, blueprints or not, that you would not save Ford and bring him home?”

Stan felt the blood drain out of his face, and the world spun for a moment.  Then he hardened his face.  “I’d prove you wrong.  I’d still try, and I would get him back.”

Jess nodded.  “And if I told you that you would succeed, blueprints or not?”

A small light of hope bloomed in Stan’s chest.  “I’d do everything I could to make it happen.”

She smiled at him.  “Then my answer does not affect your choice.  Yes, Stanley, you can still get Ford back without the blueprints… if you sacrifice your own life.”

Stan couldn’t speak. Even though there was nothing in the void, he sat down hard, and it was as if he was met by a chair.  He buried his face in his hands for a long while. Finally he looked up, a small smile on his face.  “Heh, this conversation is one big rollercoaster, ain’t it?”  Jess stood in silence, her face neutral. “Well, not like I was doin’ much with my life anyway.”  He gulped.  “So, is there, like, a ritual or something where I die to bring Ford back?  Can you do it now?”

Jess’s face looked sad, and knelt down so she could be eye level with Stan.  “Stanley, you have so much to offer. Don’t ever think you don’t. But sacrificing your life does not mean taking it away. It means, without the blueprints, it will take working and struggling and dedicating your life to do everything you can to get your brother back.”  She smiled and put a hand on his cheek.  “But I promise, if you sacrifice in this way, Ford will return and you will be reunited.”

Stan looked at her, then looked away.   “Thanks,” he said thickly, and sniffed, not wanting to cry in front of anyone.  He turned back with a big grin to hide his overwhelming emotions.  “That’ll really help during the late nights.”

Jess took her hand down and shook her head as she stood up.  “I’m sorry, Stanley, but I will have to erase this whole conversation as well.  You won’t remember a thing.”

“What?” Stan jumped up from the chair-that-was-not-a-chair.  “Then what was this garbage all for?”

“I still need your permission to alter your thoughts.”

“Yeesh!” Stan yelled to the universe.  “Of all the-” he deflated.  “Fine, yes, great.  Mess with my brain, get rid of Bill forever, whatever!”

Jess held up an index finger.  “I won’t be able to banish him from you forever, Stanley, remember- it’s just to convince him you wouldn’t be a help to him so he’ll leave you alone,”

“OK, just do it!” Stan said exasperatedly.  “I am fed up with supernatural beings an’ all their finicky crap.”  He heard Jess laugh again, and despite himself it made him feel a little better.

“All right.” Jess said.  “I will do as we have discussed.  When you wake up it will be as if the second floor didn’t matter, and you never even heard of Bill Cipher- you can continue to work to get your brother.”

“Great.  Thanks.” Stan said, still a little put out.  Then a thought crossed his mind.  “Hey, uh, Jess?” he said.  “Since you’re, uh, some all knowing alien or whatever, is there… is there anything you can do for my brother?  Y’know, keep him safe or whatever?”

Jess gave Stan the brightest smile he had seen on her the whole night.  “Since you won’t remember anything, I will tell you- my path will cross with Stanford Pines, and I will help him in many ways.”

“Good.”  Stan nodded.  “I mean… thanks.”  He took a deep breath.  “OK, I’m ready.”

“One more prophecy for you,” Jess’ smile had returned to something cryptic- the kind of all-knowing expression that was driving Stan up the wall.  “You have the face of the man who is destined to destroy Bill Cipher.”

Stan barked out a laugh.  “That’s conman language if I ever heard it.  That could apply to Ford just as much as me.”

Jess raised an eyebrow.  “Or to both of you.  Good luck, Stanley Pines.”

Stan slowly woke up, feeling more well rested than he had in a while.  After that disappointing two weeks of exploring the empty second floor to the basement, it was time to get back to knocking around the portal again.  Come to think of it, he should make a plan to look for the other journals mentioned in the journal Ford threw at him.  Maybe those books would help him figure out what was wrong with that stupid thing.

He gave himself a start in the mirror as he saw his reflection- he must have had a rough night.  But as he turned on the water and brought out the shaving cream- for some reason he looked like he hadn’t shaved in a week- he was grateful.

He might have had a rough night, but at least he couldn’t remember any nightmares.

[asirensrambles]

Collapsing (into your arms)

One of Fang's mystery potions knocks the builder out for a while.  Senna wakes up in Fang's clinic and reassures him there are no hard feelings.

This was written from a loose prompt from the Pathea Discord: Some experiment hijinks with Fang

As soon as Senna swallowed the liquid out of the vial, the edges of her vision began to darken, and she could feel herself began to sway on her feet.  Trying to keep her balance, she braced herself against the edge of the table, but her arms didn't seem to have the strength to support her.  It was a losing battle against the darkness creeping in, until eventually it won and everything went black

Senna felt herself slowly waking up.  The first thing she noticed was her shoes were missing.  Wiggling her toes confirmed the shoes were not on her feet.  Sluggishly, Senna dragged her hands up to wipe the crud out of her eyes.  Based on the light streaming in through the clinic windows, it had to be around mid morning.  Damn, whatever was in that vial was strong.  If a sleep aid wasn't what Fang was going for, well, looks like he found one anyways.  As it was, Serena's limbs still all felt like lead.  It took an enormous effort, but she lifted her head enough to look around the room.

On the floor next to the bed, her shoes were neatly stacked next to each other, along with her backpack, and hat.  Fang must have put them there, no one else was nearby.  Had he also moved her into the clinic?  Was she dragged, or carried?  If Fang had managed to carry her, Senna was impressed and surprised.  Since moving to Sandrock, she'd packed on muscle, and definitely wasn't all that light.  The clinic door opened, interrupting her musings.  Fang walked in,

"Oh good...you're awake," he said quietly.

Senna nodded.  Mustering what energy she could, Senna heaved herself into a sitting position.  Just that small action left her feeling drained and shaky.  Fang crossed the clinic in a few long strides, his features twisted into a concerned frown,

"You still need...rest.  The medicine was...stronger than I thought," as he spoke, the frown on Fang's face morphed from one of concern to guilt.

Firm hands clasped Serena's arms, and gently tried to lay her back down on the bed.  Not having the strength to fight back, she let Fang lower her back down.  His hands were warm, and stronger than she expected.  Although the more she thought about it, it made sense that Fang would have strong hands from the herbs he ground and plants he gathered.  As Senna settled back into the bed, Fang pulled the thin blanket back up over her.  She wanted to protest, tell him she was fine to head home, but the darkness crept into her vision once again.

The next time Senna woke up, none of the grogginess or heavy limbs remained.  Looking outside, it seemed like it must be close to noon or so.  Swinging her legs off the side of the bed, Senna looked around to see if Fang was still there.  The quiet doctor seemed to be missing.  As much as she wanted to wait for him and tell him everything was okay, half the day was gone, and commissions waited for no one.  Hastily pulling on her shoes, and hat, Senna rifled through her backpack for a spare piece of paper and pen.  Finding them, she scrawled out a quick note letting Fang know everything was fine before putting it on his desk under a spare opal she'd meant to give X.  Once the paper was settled where Fang couldn't possibly miss it, Senna set off for home at a brisk pace.

 --------

 The next morning, Senna opened her mailbox to find a neat parcel of strong medicine patches in it.  There was no note attached, but it had to be from Fang.  Serena shook her head.  That stubborn man couldn't take the note at its word.  Determined to prove there was no ill will, Senna sifted through her collection of gathered herbs.  Once she'd found the cistanche she was looking for, Senna saddled up Morse the Horse and went off in search of Fang.

 Conveniently, Fang was in the clinic when she dropped by.  As the door opened, he looked over to see who had come in.  When he saw who it was, his face dropped.  It seemed like he was bracing himself for something, although what Senna couldn't fathom a guess.  Still, she slowed her pace and walked over to him more slowly than her usual power walk.  As she went to hand him the bundle of cistanche, Fang flinched away.  

Instinctively, Senna stepped back, bewildered and concerned by his reaction.  Why had he flinched away?  Had she done something to scare him?  Of course this was the one time X wasn't in the clinic when she stopped by.  He probably could have helped reassure Fang, or at least his babbling would have given Senna some insight into the situation.  Not sure what to do, she blurted out,

   "Um, I brought you something."

Fang eyed her almost suspiciously, but gave a tiny nod.

Slowly, deliberately, Senna held up the package before holding it out to him.  Fang took the package gingerly, but his warm hands still brushed against hers.  Calluses caught the skin on the back of her hands.  Senna sucked in a breath at the contact.  All too soon, his hands were gone.  Dammit, this is not the time for your stupid crush, brain! she thought to herself.  Once he had the package, Fang opened it.  When he saw the cistanche, he looked up again,  

       "Why did you...bring me  this?" he asked.

Senna rocked back on her heels, "Well I saw your package in the mail today, and I wasn't sure why you'd sent it.  I thought maybe it was cause of yesterday, which is fine, I know the risks of trying new medicine and stuff, but I also wasn't sure why else it would be there?   At least I thought the package was from you, and I left you a note before I left yesterday, but maybe you didn't see it.  I left it on the desk under an opal, was it still there when you got back to the clinic?"

Before Fang could respond, she rushed on, "Well if it wasn't there or you didn't see it, I wanted to give you something too so you'd know I wasn't upset or anything, no hard feelings and all.  That's why I brought over the cistanche, to say everything's good, we're still friends and all," realizing she was rambling horribly, Senna shut her mouth with a click.

Fang stared at her for a few moments.  Senna wanted to squirm where she stood.  Why oh why did she have to ramble when she was nervous?  Why was she nervous?  The silence was getting to her, but she knew it was important to be patient with Fang and let him speak in his own time.   Finally, he said,

"We are...friends?" There was such hope and uncertainty in his voice it cut straight to Senna's heart.  Did the man not have friends besides his bird?  Probably not, she realized, as most of Sandrock seemed surprised he even spoke to her.

"If you want to be, then yes.  We're friends." Fang rewarded her with the most beautiful thing Senna had ever seen.

A smile.

[kakyoinscheryblush]

Something behind the glass surface [ Jotaro Kujo x reader ]

Summary: It was weird, she never spoke to him. They never crossed paths in their lives. After an accident in the library, could it really stay like that?

This work is originaly posted on Ao3 on my profile @Tena_HH

Masterlist << next chapter

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Chapter one, Holding grudges

It was quiet, for one library a bit too much. Maybe because she was the only one currently in it, besides the librarian who was sorting books at her reception desk.

Perhaps it was better that way, since there would be no loud noises to disrupt her ongoing journey for a biology book for her project.

The (h/c) haired girl already had five thick books piled up in her arms, blocking her view of where she was going.  So she turned sideways and started to rumuge the shelves from the start of the large bookshelf.

“Ha! There it is!” she quietly exclaimed as she spotted the dusty book that was squeezed between other two thick books.

The girl carefully placed all her books on the library floor. She pulled out the book with a bit of force and dusted it off. Did really nobody use this book or does this place just get dusty easily?

She shook her head and stacked the enormous book on her already big pile. “How will I stuff all these books into my backpack…?” questioned herself, but shook her head. She guessed she would find out eventually.

She crouched and slid her hands under the pile. “Woah-” she gasped at the heavy weight of her book pile sending her backwards. The girl heard footsteps ahead of her, assuming it was the librarian going to check what the hell is going over here.

As she collected herself, she began to walk down the book aile. But as she took another book, the unbalanced pile wobbled and the book she just took fell and sprawled out on the floor. It didn’t sound like it hit the wooden floor, more like leather.

“Shit- I apologise for dropping my book-” Y/n went to apologise but soon stopped herself, in front of her wasn’t the older librarian lady, but a person so tall she had to crane her head up to see who it was.

And it was none other than …… Jotaro Kujo.

‘Great, I might as well start calculating my hospital bill…!’ she panicked as she froze in place. He only stared at her with his eyes with no emotion.

“Watch your stuff before you knock somebody down with it.” he sneered at her and walked past her silently.

The girl sighed and closed her eyes for a few seconds. This went way better than she expected. Now… time to check out these damned books and go home!

*at the lockers, 1.st p.o.v.*

Now that the books were taken care of, I could go home and take a nap. Nothing sounds better than that, right?

As I was taking off my school shoes, I noticed the hallway parting like the Red sea. As far as I knew, Moses didn’t go to my school…

The once loud chattering turned into hushed whispers. I continued to do my thing, since this obviously has nothing to do with me.

While I was tying my second shoe on, I felt multiple pairs of eyes staring at me like I had two heads.

I looked up and now I realised why this was all happening. ‘No! Not him again!? What the fuck is going on!?’ my mind set off all the existing alarms known to mankind.

Is this my last day seeing the light of the day?

“This fell out of your book while you dropped it in the library…” he said in a monotone voice as he outstretched his hand with one teared page of the biology book.

“Oh, thank you….?” I replied awkwardly as I grabbed the paper sheet out of his hand and folded it into a small square and stuffed it into my jacket pocket.

The delinquent just tipped his hat and walked from where he came from, the students looking at him with evident fear in their eyes.

As he left the hallway, those same eyes were now casted over me. I clapped my hands and rushed towards the exit of the school. I really didn’t want to know what kind of rumours I will hear tomorrow.

After rushing out, the cool breeze hit my face. I could feel many pairs of eyes still on me. ‘Why are they making such a big deal out of this?! Sometimes I don't get these people…’ I thought as I walked to my house.

The streets were bustling with other students going home and most of them were in a group, laughing and chatting about whatever.

My house was thankfully near the school so I didn’t have to take a train or go on a bike. It was in a small street that mostly had older people living in it.

The old people had this obsession with cherry blossoms since almost every house had at least one tree in the front yard.

I didn’t complain since it did make the street more colourful and lively. I walked to my house and sighed, “Finally…” I said as I took out my key and opened the wooden fence doors. I walked to the doors and unlocked them too.

“Mom! I’m home!” I shouted as I took off my shoes and put on slippers. I closed and locked the doors. “Hi sweetie! Lunch is ready!” mom exclaimed from the kitchen and I put my bag against the wall.

“So how was school?” mom asked as she untied her apron and hung it on the little hook on the wall in the kitchen. I recalled the incident with Jotaro today but I chose not to tell her that specific part.

“Oh you know, nothing special… I had to get all the books for the upcoming biology project on marine animals and tomorrow the professor will be assigning us which we had to research.” I told her as I ate lunch.

“Really?! That sounds really exciting Y/n! You know, back when I was in high school, when we got a project that required researching an animal or something else, we used to go to zoos or sanctuaries and do some of the research there! We always asked the zoo keeper to tell us something about the animal.” mom said with a warm smile as she put her chin on the palms of her hands.

I smiled at her and giggled, “Thanks for the suggestion mom! I hope that I get an animal that the local aquarium has…” I said as I ate the rest of my food and picked up a plate and dumped it into the sink along with the utensils.

“Mom, I’ll be in my room. If you need me just call alright?” I said to her as I walked out of the dining room and picked up the heavy backpack with both of my hands. “Oh God-” I grunted as I dragged the backpack up the stairs.

I entered my room and dragged the backpack to my bed. I closed the doors, jumped on my bed and grabbed the backpack and threw it on the bed in front of me. I unzipped the (f/c) backpack and I pulled all the heavy books out.

There were four books in total, two of them biology books and other two were animal encyclopaedias.

Since I didn’t know what animal I’ll be getting, I got the books that had more general information on most marine species so after I get my animal I can find more specific books.

The teacher did tell us that all of the third graders will be working on the same project and that all of them will be getting the same animals.

He did say we can work in pairs but we didn’t have to (and if you do work in pairs you have to have separate papers).

Everyone in class will get a different animal so I hoped I would get something easy and maybe just maybe team up with somebody from a different class!

I skimmed over the pages of the four books but I got tired and stacked them all on my table. I went to my nightstand and turned on the small lamp.

Then I walked to the light switch next to the doors and turned it off. I always liked when my room was dimly lit, it was better than the harsh yellow shine from the ceiling light…

I got dressed in my pyjamas and got ready for sleep. I walked to my bed and checked the small (favourite animal) themed calendar.

“Today's tuesday so that means only three days untill weekend! Thank God…” I murmured as I got into my bed and snuggled into the duvet and my many pillows.

‘Today sure was weird…’ my mind wandered to the certain delinquent I bumped into today. I shivered from the mere thought of him.

I just hoped I didn’t see him anymore since I do want to live the rest of my life. I shook my head and thought of something more fun. And with that I wandered off to sleep. 

—----------------------------------------------------

The next day was dull and boring. I talked to a few of my classmates that I had in my class while we had lunch break.

By a few classmates I ment two just to clear things up. They were super nice but we only spoke in school and helped each other with homework.

The only exciting thing that had the whole class bouncing on the seats was our biology class. The teacher laughed at our excitement and he said we are the most thrilled class for this project.

He pulled out a small hat that had small folded pieces of paper in it. He stirred the papers with his hand and walked to each student so they could pull out their animal. Everyone unfolded their papers and started to talk about what marine animal they got.

I heard my classmates discussing what they got and what I heard some got a stingray, sea horse, beluga, blue dragon, orca and many more. The teacher stood in front of me and there weren’t many papers left in the hat.

“No peeping Ms. L/n.” the teacher jokingly said as I averted my gaze from the hat once I put my hand in it. And as soon as I felt a small paper I grabbed it and pulled it out. The teacher continued to pass around the hat.

But being the impatient person I am, I unfolded the paper and read the animal I got.

Dolphin

Okay, great… I smiled at the paper and sighed. This will be a piece of cake!

After a few minutes everyone got their animal and the teacher decided to let us go home earlier. “Sounds good to me…” I murmured as I packed up my bag and grabbed the small paper.

But I was soon stopped by a hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, Y/n what animal did you get?” the girl from my class asked me. Her name was Aiko and from what I knew she was in the school choir. “Oh hi Aiko! I got the dolphin, what about you?” I asked her while folding the small paper into its original form.

“I got a dumbo octopus… Not really something I was looking for…” Aiko said as her green eyes trailed to my folded little paper in my palm.

“What do you say we trade? I’m sure the dumbo octopus will be more exciting to research for you than a dolphin hehe…” she said as she tidied up her short bangs nervously.

I stared at her for a few seconds in confusion. “I’m sorry Aiko but I don't want to trade. Maybe you can ask somebody else from the class. I heard that Harumi got a narval!” I told her and her expression flattered.

“Oh okay, thanks for letting me know! But if you change your mind we can always switch.” she laughed and walked past me. I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye to her…

I said goodbye to the teacher and as I walked out I saw Aiko whispering something to a group of girls. Whatever, it's none of my business. And like bolts of lightning the group of girls ran away from Aiko to who knows where.

I walked out the doors and headed to my locker. I put on my shoes and put the school shoes in the locker. As I closed the locker a face appeared next to it.

“Hey.” the girl said with a smile. “Hey…?” I said with an raised eyebrow. ‘Who is this, again?’ I thought in confusion. I think I saw her in that group of girls Aiko was talking to a few minutes ago.

“I’m Yamaguchi Mayumi! I’m from the other class.” She extended her hand to me as she introduced herself. I shook it carefully.

She had dark brown hair that was pulled into a low ponytail and she had bright brown eyes. “Oh I’m Y/n L/n, Nice to meet you Yamaguchi.” I told her as we both headed to the exit of the school.

“So, L/n, did you get the animal you were going to research for the biology project?” Yamaguchi asked as she swept her ponytail off her shoulder and looked at me with curiosity.

“Yeah I did-” “What animal did you get?” She interrupted me. “I got a dolphin…” I told her while looking at her weirdly.

“Really?! That’s amazing! I got a seahorse…” Yamaguchi sighed dramatically as she covered her forehead with the back of her palm.

“I mean seahorses are really cute?” I said to her, ‘Why does everyone have a problem with their animal all of a sudden?’ I thought. “You know, we can switch our animals-” Yeah how about no.

“No thank you Yamaguchi. I don’t plan on switching with anybody.” I told her firmly. She stopped in her steps and looked at me in beliverement. “B-But why not?” Yamaguchi asked me with a confused expression.

I sighed, “Listen, you are the second person that asked me the same thing and I don’t understand why all of a sudden everyone wants to switch.” I told her with annoyance in my voice. Her innocently confused face morphed into an angry one in a matter of seconds.

“You think you are so much better than us, huh?” she snarled at me. My eyes widened in surprise - “Huh, why would you think that?”. She laughed and rolled her eyes, “Stop pretending you are stupid! You just want Jotaro-kun to notice you!”

What in the hell does Jotaro have to do with any of this?

“Wh- Why would I even want him to notice me?” I asked Yamaguchi as I took a step back from her. I knew something was off about her.

“Who knows, but I remember what happened yesterday in the hallway. You probably tore that page on purpose didn’t you!” Yamaguchi pointed a finger at me.

“Listen Yamaguchi, I don’t like Jotaro, I never had feelings for him in the first place.” I explained to her but it seems that it went through her one ear and out the other.

She rolled her eyes once again, “Whatever you say L/n, just don’t think that this is the last time you’ll be hearing from me.” she spat at me.

I gulped, “Alright… Goodbye…” I said to Yamaguchi as I started to speed walk to my house. That shit was scary…

Does she really think I have a crush on Jotaro? That guy can make you piss your pants with just one glance… Yeah no thank you.

As I got home, I was hoping to eat like a starving dog, but I lost my appetite after talking to Yamaguchi. Mom wasn’t home so after taking off my shoes I went straight to my room. I took off my bag and placed it next to the bed.

“Time for some big brain thinking…” I said as I grabbed the heavy books that I borrowed yesterday. I started marking the pages with anything that had a connection to dolphins with little paper notes. I did for a few minutes until my mind wandered off to the conversation I had with that Yamabitch.

 “Stop pretending you are stupid! You just want Jotaro-kun to notice you!”

Alright, since I have a brain I did some prodding on what happened with Aiko and Yamaguchi and came to a conclusion. Jotaro got the same animal as me to research for the biology project, which is a dolphin.

And they (by they I mean Aiko, Yamaguchi and probably their friend group) think that I don’t want to switch with them because I like Jotaro. Which is completely not true, I just want to do my project…

Do they think I’ll ask him to work in pairs with me!? As if! I'd rather do everything on my own, And Jotaro doesn’t seem like the guy who likes to work in pairs either.

I hope that by tomorrow things get cleared up because if they spread this rumour about me and it somehow gets to Jotaro I’ll be damned!

 But enough of my overthinking… I need to mark up just a bit more pages and then I’ll go to sleep. Tomorrow I’ll ask mom about that aquarium she was talking about a day ago.

There is a new one that opened a few weeks ago just a few streets away from my house, so I’ll have to check the ticket prices. I think it’s called ‘The Sea Life Aquarium’.

‘Eh, I have a whole day to research all of that…’  I thought as I closed all the books and placed them on my table. I dragged my hand across my face in exhaustion as I walked towards the bathroom to get ready to sleep.

Once I got ready I turned off the desk lamp and jumped on my bed. “This biology project has been swimming in my head the whole day… Time to dream of something relaxing…” I murmured as I closed my eyes, snuggled into my pillow and let my mind wander to the lands of dreams…

But a certain jet-black haired guy will unintentionally make sure that her entire day doesn’t go as planned as she wanted…

[queendumpling]

last night i dreamed about a lot of things, which i will try to type out as i remember them. new bullets are things that i think are separate dreams

i was in some kind of lab where and i was lying down on a table. a woman approached me who took my hand and told me that i didnt belong in this body, and that i would have to be removed. i existed in a single drop of blood inside this body, and so they pricked my finger and with a needle drew out a single drop of yellow liquid. as they did this i knew that it would mean that i would cease to exist and my consciousness drifted away. and then i woke up. unsure if it was a me naturally waking up, or if i was shaken by the idea of dying in a dream.

i was back in that same laboratory, lying down on the same table. on a table next to me was a container that was layered with many different transparent colored liquids. it was very pretty to look at, but i knew that i had to destroy it. i picked up the container and started swirling it around, until one of the people working in the lab stopped me from doing so and pushed me out of the room.

i was floating along a road near an ocean. it was foggy and cold. i could hear conversations of people as i drifted by. as i looked across the ocean, i saw what looked to be an enormous silhouetted object in the distance. it was so wide, and so tall that i couldn't see where it ended. all around me there were panicked whispers from the people. i knew it wasn't good, and as i drifted along i fell into a vision of an enormous black pyramid rising before me. and then that pyramid turned upside down until it was high above me, which i then realized meant that i was actually falling down onto that pyramid that appeared above me.

there was a room that i kept finding in these dreams. a small room that only had wooden a wooden bed and dresser. and strangely enough a book that had the communist symbol on it?

i was in the house of another family that i was friends with. there was a mother and father and young daughter. for some reason, we were trapped in the house? either way, we were going from room to room trying to find a way out in a panic. i briefly remember and opening a room that i think had a pale gaunt and ghostly child in it, but quickly turning away and closed the door before i could even process it. in another room, i saw that mirror from the movie oculus. as we went further into the house, it got darker and darker and we could only see with our flashlights. we found a room filled with games and it became apparent that we would have to play a game to leave. in a huge stack of books, there were certain books that were taped with a set of instructions for each of us on what we needed to do to leave. i found the book which had the paper for me, but without thinking i removed the paper but didn't keep the book and threw it back into the pile. realizing my mistake, i had to frantically search for my book, all while the thought of the time that was ticking by weighed upon me

[countrystylerecyclin]

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Again, now the things are used in things that you and I use constantly. These things can be made into different things, for instance, the bits of paper you make, the holder that your crushed orange comes in, or even the shoes you are wearing today. The potential results are truly enormous concerning what things can be never-endingly reused in various ways.

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[karolinesvrsion]

just this once, okay? | bruce yamada x fem!reader

part 1 part 2 part 3

okay i made a playlist go like it! here's my spotify

a/n: for the sake of the story, everyone is the same age (16-17) and in junior year of high school, except gwen, who is a freshman. and the grabber doesn't exist because i said so.

when a crushing and helpless bruce yamada seeks aid from an unaware and breezy y/n, he suggests they fake date in order to make his crush jealous. what could go wrong? they were friendly, and y/n was beautiful. bruce’s plan is fool proof. at least that’s what he thinks.

italics = flashbacks

❦

it had been two weeks since you and bruce went public with your "relationship". many jaws dropped when you and bruce walked into school holding hands.

"you're dating bruce yamada!?" donna exclaimed, slamming your locker closed. the impact made a loud noise, causing multiple people to look over.

"wow, good morning to you too!" you retorted sarcastically, earning an eye roll from donna.

"you're dating bruce yamada and you didn't tell me!?" she continued. "you're not supposed to keep secrets from me! we keep secrets from everyone else!"

"okay, okay!" you chuckled, leaning against the lockers. "it just slipped my mind, that's all." donna didn't look very convinced, but she shrugged.

"okay, so, tell me!" she giggled, linking her arm with yours. "what did he say? how did he ask you? i thought you two hadn't talked in two years!"

"we started talking again during the summer, and we were at the library, and he just... asked!" you replied. earlier, you and bruce talked about what you'd tell people if they asked so that there wouldn't be any miscommunications.

"wow!" donna feigned excitement. "that's— wow!"

"it's boring, i know, but i like him, y'know?" you and bruce spent the previous evening at the baseball field, laughing while practicing what to say to people who asked about the relationship.

"are you two gonna go to the carnival next saturday?" donna smirked, nudging your shoulder. "should be a pretty sweet date!"

"shut up, d, we have calculus." you tried to brush it off, but donna wouldn't let up.

the first day after going public, bruce sat next to you in physics— like he said he would. he gave you the classic bruce yamada grin and slid right next to you.

it was easier than you thought it would be to fake date bruce. after making the rules, you two seemed to get closer in a short amount of time. very short. two days, actually. you two didn't spend every single minute of every day together, obviously, but in the time that you did spend with one another, it was in the library, not studying, not doing homework, just.. hanging out.

mrs. schultz was growing agitated with how loud you two would talk and laugh in the small library, but she kept it a secret on account of "they're such a cute pair!" martin, her husband, was also growing agitated. not with you two in particular, but with how much mrs. schultz would talk about you two.

you were seated in the very corner of your physics class, bruce sitting next to you. he was telling you about how his little sister, amy, begged him to let her make little braids in his hair the night before.

"your hair isn't long enough to be braided, though!" you laughed. donna looked over her shoulder at the two of you, smirking slightly. since she was in the photography club, donna had to have her own camera. she very discreetly snapped a photo, chuckling to herself.

"yeah, i know that!" he smiled. "but she still begged for fifteen minutes!"

"okay, class, settle down," mr. hanson walked in, placing an enormous stack of papers on his small desk. "today, we're starting a new topic. we will be starting momentum and collision. please take notes on this, because you will have a test on it soon."

bruce looked over at you. "point for you, i guess." the day you two created the rules, he decided to make a point system. whenever you two had to study for something, you would get a point. whenever you missed one of his games or practices, he would get a point. so far you had three points and bruce had one.

"what? it's just momentum and collision, that's easy!" you whispered. "come on, you don't know if we'll have to study for it yet."

"oh, y/n, please!" he scoffed quietly. "it's a topic about physics! you know how bad i am at physics!"

"you are so dramatic, bruce."

"oh, am i?"

"you are—"

"mr. yamada, ms. l/n, is there something you two would like to share with the class?" mr. hanson glared at the two of you with an unamused expression on his young face.

"no, sir." you and bruce muttered, your faces a matching shade of bright red. the class snickered at this, and donna mouthed the words, "how adorable" to you.

"good, now let's get started."

the next day went by slowly. you were in your room, reading the silence of the lambs by thomas harris. the book creeped you out, but you just couldn't stop reading.

you were snapped out of your trance when wyatt came knocking on your door. "hey, there's some dude at the door looking for you."

"jeez, wyatt, that's super clarifying," you retorted sarcastically. "did you get a name, by any chance?"

"yeah, i think it was bryan." he looked beyond confused. "or maybe it was bruno? oh, oh, bryce! definitely bryce!"

"you mean bruce?"

"oh, yeah, that's the one!" wyatt grinned. "bruce is at the door, looking for you. he said you two are going to the carnival today?"

"crap, that's today," you frowned, putting your book away and pushing wyatt out of your doorway. "don't tell him i forgot or i'll put your diary entries into the paper and make billy deliver them."

"okay, okay! jeez, how did you even find out about my diary!?" wyatt grumbled.

"you're terrible at hiding things." you finalized, closing your door in his face.

you changed into a comfortable flannel, paired with your dark-wash mom jeans and your white converse. basic, but cute.

as you hurried downstairs, you heard giggling. more specifically, allie's giggling. it was rather surprising to see bruce bonding so well with allie, seeing as the eight year old wasn't too keen on interacting with people she didn't know.

"so you play baseball? like finney?" allie gasped. "can you teach me how?"

"well, i can try." bruce smiled, making allie blush. he saw you descending from the stairs and stood up. "hey, are you ready?"

"yeah, i'm ready," you chuckled, walking into the kitchen for a bottle of water. bruce trailed behind you, sending a small smile to allie. "you're making allie fall in love with you, y'know?"

"yeah, i have that charm." bruce laughed, staring at you a little too long.

your mom walked in unexpectedly, making bruce snap out of it. he shook his head, questioning himself. why couldn't he take his eyes off of you?

"hey!" your mom cheered. "who's this?"

"mom, hey," you groaned slightly. "this is— um, this is bruce. my, uh, my boyfriend."

your moms eyes widened. "boyfriend? wow! this is great news! bruce, hi, its nice to meet you!"

"oh, hi, mrs. l/n," he shook your moms hand politely, looking at you for some help. "its so wonderful to finally meet you!"

"and its so nice to meet you, bruce. i have heard nothing about you, actually." your mom wasn't trying to be rude, she just didn't really think before she spoke.

"oh, that's nice," bruce trailed off. wyatt and allie were silently laughing behind you three.

you took bruce's hand in yours and tried to drag him away from your mom. "c'mon, lets get going before she asks about your family."

"have fun, be back by ten!" your mom laughed.

"bye mrs. l/n! bye allie and wilbur!" bruce called.

"it's wyatt!"

"you called me bryce!"

"okay, we're leaving now, bye!" you yelled, dragging bruce out of the door.

you and bruce arrived at the carnival a little bit past six thirty. to say he was excited was an understatement. "okay so, amy asked me if i could get her some of that gross cotton candy stuff, but i think we can get that later! we could go on the bumper cars! or, we could go to the ring toss things! ooh, maybe we could get one of those giant teddy bears or something—"

"jeez, bruce, you're more excited than your girl is." one of his baseball friends, nolan, joked, making bruce turn beet red. "hey, man, i'm just teasing."

"yeah, whatever." bruce shrugged him off. "we'll see you all later. nolan don't be a dick to colin, okay?"

"no promises, bruce."

"do you wanna get food first?" you asked after all of his friends took off. you knew bruce didn't like doing things on an empty stomach.

"yeah, let's go!" he smiled, taking your hand in his.

bruce chose hotdogs, much to your dismay. you weren't too fond of them, but then again, it was a carnival. you couldn't go to a carnival and not eat gross food.

you two ate the hotdogs quietly— they were disgusting, but you tried to power through, for bruce. you grimaced as the foul taste reached your stomach. it appeared that bruce was tasting the same thing, because you two made eye contact and he looked like he was going to throw up.

"that's disgusting." bruce swallowed the last of his bite, then threw the hotdog away.

"those are horrible, bruce." you laughed, throwing the hotdog in the trash.

"yeah, we're never eating those again. ever." he groaned, beginning to walk away. he put his hands in the pockets of his black jacket. "so, where do we go first?"

"do you know if clara is here?" you asked him, making him squint his eyes a little. "clara reid?"

"oh, right, right!" he straightened a little. "i think nolan told me she'd be here with joan and eliza."

"okay, well then, let's go find something to do so clara can see us or something." bruce nodded and you two looked for the trio.

"look, there they are." he subtly pointed to where they were standing— near the ring toss stand. "let's go."

and so, you two went to the ring toss. the guy working it said it was easy, you just had to get a ring into the empty bottle in the very middle, and you could win the ginormous teddy bear.

bruce was determined to win it. "hey, check to see if they're looking." he whispered lightly.

you discreetly turned around, and did, indeed, see clara looking at the two of you. oddly enough, she didn't look jealous, or bothered, or annoyed. in fact, her expression was uninterested, almost like she didn't even care, like she didn't even mean to look at you two. but you didn't want to tell bruce that. he'd probably get bummed out. "uh, yeah, yeah, they're looking."

"that's good, right?" bruce chuckled, focusing on the bottle in the middle. he missed two of them, which really added to the suspense of whether or not he'd get the bear. finally, on the last ring, he drowned out everything else and put all of his attention on the bottle.

you held his hand, attempting to make him feel more confident in the last throw. bruce looked down at your now intertwined hands and smiled slightly. putting all of his attention on the bottle, he threw the ring.

the loud 'clink' made bruce ecstatic. he threw his arms around you happily and spun you around the air. "i did it!"

the guy, whose name was actually doug, rolled his eyes at this— probably because he had seen four other couples do the exact same thing. he handed the large teddy bear to bruce, saying, "here you go, thanks for playing, congrats." in a monotone voice. he really wanted to go home.

"here, hold todd." bruce said, handing you the teddy bear.

"todd?" you questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"yes, y/n/n, todd!" bruce explained. "we have shared custody of him now, keep up!"

"you're so weird, bruce." you chuckled. bruce smiled at you, slinging his arm around your shoulder.

"weird? im not weird, i'm— ooh!" he trailed off, looking at the spinning teacups ride in amazement. "can we go? please!"

"bruce, are you crazy?" you choked, slipping out from under his arm. "we'll throw up those nasty hotdogs you got us!"

"ugh, fine. you stay here with todd and watch as i have a great time." bruce taunted, placing his hands on your shoulders. "i'm gonna have a blast on these spinning teacups, and when i don't throw up, i'm laughing in your face."

"okay then..."

you watched as bruce picked the teacup closest to where you were standing and quickly claimed it. he gave you a thumbs up, a wide smile on his face. you felt another presence on your right, and turned your head to see clara standing next to you.

"hey, y/n!" she smiled sweetly. "i heard you're dating bruce! how's that going?"

"oh, hey clara. it's going good, i suppose." you responded kindly. you and clara weren't friends, barely even classmates, and there was no reason to be rude to her, so you kept your answers short.

"that's great!" she sang, her brown hair framing her face nicely. "y'know, people used to say i had a crush on him, but i never did. he's um, not really my type, y'know?"

your heart sank for bruce. clara had no interest in him. like none. zero. you couldn't be the one to tell him, though. his heart would be crushed.

"um, so, i just wanted to clear that up, just in case you thought i like him or something." clara said, placing her hand on your bicep for a moment, and then walking back to joan and eliza.

bruce got off the ride, walking up to you. "did you see that!? it was freaking amazing, and you missed out!"

you quickly plastered a smile on your face, not wanting bruce to think something was wrong. "i did, and i can tell you're dizzy. oh, you are so throwing up later."

"i am not going to throw up, i have a great digestive system." he defended, faltering after he realized what he just said. "ew, i didn't mean for that to sound so gross."

you laughed, taking his hand in yours. "i figured."

"ooh let's go to the bumper cars!" bruce urged, swinging your arms around. "and then we can go to the funhouse, or do you prefer haunted houses?"

"i definitely prefer haunted houses, but let's go!" you grinned.

you and bruce rode every ride twice, the second time being better than the first. you had to admit, fake-dating bruce yamada was not as bad as you thought it would be. it was almost.. fun?

it was about nine-thirty, and bruce's friends approached the two of you as you got off of the small roller coaster seats.

"hey, have you two gone on the ferris wheel yet?" nolan asked, holding a large red slushie.

"uh, no we haven't actually." bruce answered, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

"oh, you two should totally go on it! the guy stops it right when it's at the very top and you can see the whole town from there! man, bruce, the view is incredible!" lucas— another one of his friends— rambled.

"alright then, let's go!" bruce beamed, leading you to the ferris wheel. you two were standing in line talking when bruce realized that lucas and his girlfriend violet were right behind you two.

"lucas, hey, i didn't realize you were behind us, man." bruce said, causing you to turn around and look at them. "hey, you two wanna share a compartment with us? they're pretty big and it's just us, so.."

"yeah, sure! sounds good to me!" lucas chimed, his green eyes brightening. violet nodded, smiling at the you and bruce.

lucas was right— the view was incredible. you could see your house, the porch light still on, indicating that your mother was waiting for you to arrive. bruce pointed out where his house was, where the baseball field was, and even where favorite diners were.

your hands were still intertwined, not that either of you noticed. bruce had a weird feeling in his stomach, but it wasn't nausea like you thought it would be. he had felt this before, when he realized he liked clara. but he didn't like you, not like that, did he?

you were still admiring the view when you felt bruce place a small kiss on the side of your head. when you looked at him with a confused expression, he cocked his head to the side, signaling that lucas was watching the two of you intently. you nodded in understanding, placing a quick kiss on his cheek.

once the ride was over, you two said goodbye to lucas and violet, but not before lucas pulled bruce aside.

"dude, you're totally in love!" he said. "your face said it all i mean the way you looked at her all in love and shit! jeez, man, anyone would forget that you had a thing for clara reid if they saw how you look at y/n l/n!"

bruce shook his head. "shut up, man, you look at violet like she's the only girl ever."

"because she is! to me, at least." lucas defended. "anyways, i gotta get going, vi has a curfew, and i cannot risk getting on her dad's bad side! oh, and buy y/n a slushie, jesus. see ya, man."

bruce walked back over to where you were waiting patiently. "come on, let's get slushies."

"you are so gonna be sick tomorrow morning. just you wait, bruce. you'll see that im right." you mocked, your hand finding his again.

"yeah, yeah." he dismissed, smiling at you.

bruce walked you home, making sure to say goodnight to your mom and allie— who probably only stayed awake to see bruce again. "you can have todd tonight. we'll have to come up with a schedule for him."

"hmm, i take this week, you take next week?" you offered.

"and then we just keep doing that?"

"sounds like a plan."

"okay, then! goodnight, y/n/n." he gave you a hug, the scent of your perfume was almost intoxicating him. you gave him one last kiss on the cheek and stepped back inside.

that night, bruce couldn't sleep. was lucas right? did he really like you? he didn't even care that amy was whining about him forgetting her cotton candy, all he could think about was you. he laid awake, thinking about you and your perfect smile, your perfect eyes. he knew this feeling.

crap. oh, crap.

bruce yamada was slowly falling for you.

[cythena]

pity party

pairing: xiao x fem!reader

prompt: why would all your friends start hating you right before your birthday?

cw/tw: yandere, manipulation, and just xiao threatening your friends

ganyu vividly remembers xiao’s words after their encounter in jueyun karst. he appeared out of nowhere. anger and hostility poured from his veins and polluted the surrounding air. animals seemed to jump at the hint of his aura. not even the moon reflected in his golden eyes.

“i won’t hesitate to slaughter you and this nation if you touch her.”

ganyu’s blood went colder than her own vision. xiao─an adeptus, a yaksha─was threatening a comrade and the nation he swore to protect.

ganyu couldn’t make sense of him. why? why would he be so willing to harm himself for you? he would face enormous punishment for breaking a contract with rex lapis. yet, she couldn’t detect any hint of a bluff on his part.

“x-xiao! what do you mean?” she cried.

“don’t play dumb. i’d slay even the seven if she asked of me,” he squinted and dropped his head. his arms crossed over his chest. “y/n has all of eternity to become mine. you will not continue to be a roadblock in my plans.”

ganyu couldn’t form another thought of protest before xiao disappeared. she didn’t know how long it would be until she met him again. however, she knew she couldn’t see you for quite some time.

the crowded city of liyue harbor felt so empty. you were always so excited to enter the mortal realm and see them. people would greet you and thank you, but now no one would even glance at you. maybe ganyu or keqing would tell you why.

keqing, she brushed you off and told you she’s busy with work for the qixing. that would make sense but she ran off right after, not bothering to offer another time to talk. and you weren’t even permitted anymore to enter the jade chamber to ask ningguang about her.

ganyu’s reaction forever burned itself into your memory. her body froze once she saw you. she carried papers through yujing terrace. you called out her name. the stack of papers slipped out of her hold. a clip kept them from flying away.

you reached down to pick them up for her but she quickly snatched the papers from you.

“ganyu is everything okay?”

“yes. i have to go now.” she spun around and walked in the opposite direction.

you couldn’t even ask your question. you frowned, shoulders slumped. tears gathered in your eyes, you forced your eyes open so they wouldn’t fall while you were still in the city.

you wiped your tears away outside of the city gates. you dropped onto the grass and allowed yourself to fall apart. you glanced at your vision in your palm, questioning if you truly deserved it. do you truly deserve to be an adepti? no one treated like you did.

you flipped your vision over on the grass. it’s dark blue color still illuminated the grass around it.

“mortals are selfish and undeserving of your tears.”

“huh? xiao?” your palm swiped at your cheeks. your hands patted around the grass to snatch your vision back up. “what are you doing here? i don’t usually see you this close to the harbor.”

“that’s unimportant,” he crossed his arms. “now tell me what is causing you so much pain.”

he took long steps to sit by your side. you faced your vision again.

“i don’t know what i did wrong, xiao. ganyu, keqing- everyone, they seem to hate me. i just wanna know what i did,” you sighed.

“nothing.”

“huh?”

“you’ve done nothing wrong to those ungrateful mortals. you mustn’t waste your tears on those who don’t deserve your kindness.”

“but, there’s a reason for them to treat me this way. i should apologize.”

“stop speaking like you owe them. they are to be grateful to you. no one in this realm will be there for you, you cannot depend on anyone except yourself. however, you can depend on me.”

“i thought you didn’t like me?”

“i’m the only one who won’t hurt you in such a way.”

you felt the air in your abode change. someone had entered the gates. your hopes rose as you thought it would be ganyu or keqing, but you remembered your last encounter. the other adepti hadn’t spoken to you in quite some time either. you doubted it would be rex lapis- or zhongli as he goes by now. and a thief would know better than to trespass on the land of an adepti.

“i brought you these flowers for your birthday. i noticed you like them.”

right. your birthday was today. you planned on spending it with ganyu, keqing, and ningguang. they would each take a day off work. it meant a lot to you knowing how busy they get. you completely forgot about your plans and the date itself.

“xiao, i- thank you. i didn’t think you would know about my birthday let alone come visit me.” your fingers brushed against his as you took the silk flowers. xiao took notice that the glimmer in your eyes had returned. you carefully stroked the pink petals of one of the flowers.

you showed xiao to one of your main rooms. you sat on a pillow in front of a large window. xiao sat next to you while you admired the view. his eyes s

“i’ve watched this sunset countless times yet i’ve never grown tired of it. it’s my favorite part of the day so i’m happy i get to share this with you.” you smiled at him. he scoffed at your expression.

you patted your way to his hand, instantly wrapping yours around his gloved fingers. his eyebrows dropped.

“thank you for visiting me on my birthday. you’re the only one who’s been so kind to me. i’m grateful and-” you chose your next words. options appeared in your head as you opened your mouth. the words waited for you to push them out. “i want us to spend the rest of our immortal lives together.”

he scoffed again. you squeezed at his hand, praying to rex lapis that xiao would return your feelings in some way. you don’t know how you would be able to carry on without him. you couldn’t lose the only person in teyvat who still cares for you.

“you’re experiencing mortal emotions after spending so much time in their realm. anyway, i would be quite content with being with you…for eternity,” he smirked.

you pulled his hand to your chest. you intertwined your fingers. “thank you, xiao,” you grinned.

his other hand moved to cup your chin. “now you no longer have to waste these precious tears on mortals. you pity them for their weaknesses. i—however, deserve everything you are.”

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

The Day the Ocean Erupted

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Angst, Hurt/Comfort Warnings: Allusions to death, drowning, pain, storms, thunder, rain

~ * ~

You remember the day the ocean erupted.

You’d been in your office, at 2 PM exactly, pen in hand and ink spotting your fingers, the culprits a stack of papers in the upper corner. The sun had filtered through your window and casted shining streamers on your desk as you wrote, typical of Liyue’s golden summers. You tapped your pen against your chin- how to phrase this next sentence? Should you focus on one or two types of silk? You hummed contemplatively, then scribbled a few more words. Sturdiness- that was important to mention in a report, especially one about something elegant like silk. The room filled with a comforting silence as you wrote word after word on the paper in the delicate warmth of the sun.

The first drop came and went without attention. But it was soon followed by another. And another. And another, until the sky was shedding all its tears into the streets and ocean of the city. Your pen had fallen from your grasp with a resounding clatter as you stood to peer outside the window, your eyes narrowed. Rain? In Liyue? Now? It was ridiculous.

Then something burst out of the ocean and you fell backwards in shock, pushing yourself away from the window despite being on one of the upper levels of the harbor. You rushed downstairs and pushed your door open, catching glimpses of an enormous serpentine creature rising from the waters as people rushed up and down the streets in a panic. The rain poured down in buckets, drenching everything and everyone, and all around there’s a frenzy of screaming, shouting, yelling, the same phrase reworded a thousand times, The Fatui did this, it’s the Fatui’s fault, the Fatui are to blame, and you could only think of one thing- your associate, your acquaintance, your companion.

Your friend.

Childe. Where was he? Vanished to the Golden House, they told you, but not as Childe, as Tartaglia, the Harbinger. For business, he said.

But soon you were swept up with the waves of screaming, and the thought had been lost.

That was weeks ago, when the Traveler had harnessed the power of the Adepti and defeated the old god Osial, with a final blow from Lady Ningguang’s Jade Chamber to seal him in the sea. The entire nation held its breath as Fatui activity wavered, dropped, then fizzled out completely. Life returned to normal, the seasons rolling by like a sigh of relief as reassuring whispers spread the news that the Fatui were finally, finally stopping their irritating interferences with the harbor.

You finish your final words and set your pen down, a thoughtful frown prominent on your face. You’ve never really been affected by the Fatui. For the most part they simply existed, a rumored plague on the Liyue Qixing with their endless meddling, but to you they were simple guards standing near doors and on the docks. On occasion when you had to wait there you would make conversation, to which most of them would respond to either in earnest or slightly tense surprise. For all their supposed horrid tendencies and practices and nosiness, you had found that many of the Fatui were, quite simply, people; people from a different nation and far away from home. People who had their own interests and likes and dislikes. People who had their own reasons and dreams and realities.

People who had all vanished when the last ripple in the ocean had stilled. And among them, your friend Childe, the Eleventh Harbinger Tartaglia. He was the only Fatui you would really consider a friend, the others being mere acquaintances. He was always teasingly kind to you, offering to get you a meal or asking to spend some offtime together. You, ever-suspicious, had often refused, but he was persistent and determined to chip down your walls one by one. And when they shook and crumbled your friendship had blossomed, despite the odd melancholy in his eyes whenever he looked at you, a question you never knew the answers to.

All this he was. But he was gone now, you suppose, following the tall, elegant woman you had seen exiting the Northland Bank to the mysterious depths of Inazuma. He looked so exhausted, outwardly appearing as tired as you sometimes felt inside, and your brow pinches.

You sigh and set your pen to the side before rising from your chair, cursing yourself for contemplating old memories. You don’t expect Childe to return anytime soon, if ever, so perhaps some thoughts are best left packaged in their pretty boxes scattered around the attic of your mind. The door swings open as you slip on your coat- it’s chilly outside, and you walk to the teashop for a new blend and distraction from the conflicting turmoil in your head.

The rain begins just as you hurry back home, having forgotten your umbrella in a moment of carelessness. Liyue’s winters, while cold and biting, never froze the storms that encroached almost every other day, instead letting icy droplets of slush fall on people’s backs and clothes. The clouds shield the few stars in the sky from view, blocking out the moon and turning the raindrops an inky black. You shove your door open and immediately shut and lock it again with a sigh of relief, shaking out your clothes and rubbing your chilled hands together. Your breathing is the only sound in the house, and your bones soon settle with a deep chill as the pressing quiet seems more and more foreboding. You cock your head to the side and hear an ever-so-faint rustling sound, and you pick up your weapon before making your way down the hall.

When you reach the living room you blink in surprise. Unlike what you expected, nothing is broken, not a dish is out of place, no drawers are flung open and riffled through. Nothing is wrong, nothing is out of order, your limited vision tells you, but a cold breeze sends goosebumps down your arms and you make your way over to the ajar window, very nearly bumping into furniture several times. You fumble with the latch and pull the window shut, dragging the curtain closed as if to cover the rain with elegant patterns and cloth, and for a few moments, you listen to the steady pour outside as it creates a chiming melody on the roof and glass.

Something breathes next to you. You whirl away in shock, clutching your weapon tightly. Something is here with you, watching you across the room, observing your every move as you hurry to light a match for some semblance of sight, the lamps in your house completely useless right now. The match strikes and connects, a yellow flame bursting to life, flickering like a firefly. You hold it up and come face-to-face with a single eye. Enormous and pearly, it gleams softly in the darkness, although whether it is blue or purple you cannot say. Sharp, plated red armor surrounds it, mask-like and curling into twin horns. The creature’s skin is also armored and bony, shades of purple and black with occasional splashes of red or silver, covered by a pair of translucent, sparkling wings like the deepest sea. It towers over you, claws and teeth razor sharp even in the persisting gloom, and you gasp and stumble away in terror. The starry wings and deep, rich colors, and the feeling it emanates, of being crushed and drowned by shining waves…

An Abyssal creature, some sort of monstrous beast from the depths of your world. It must be.

You back away from it, your chest tight with fear and the thought of death, of dying at the hands of this monster, holding your weapon so tightly you fear it might crack in your grip.

You’ve never been a fighter, only practical enough to keep a weapon you could use nearby. Between you and the creature, the creature would win with a simple swipe of its claws, and you would bleed out on the floor until you didn’t exist anymore, just another body lost to the infinite ocean.

But there is no attack, no clashing, no burning, searing pain, only a soft, sad whimper. You open your eyes and see the creature reaching out to you, crawling across the floor like standing causes it agony, as it lets out a broken and desperate wail. You take a step back again, then a step forward, your fear seeping out of you. Holding the match higher, you lean forward and squint, dots of color bleeding into the environment.

Ginger. Wondrously fluffy ginger hair, although it's wet with rainwater, and a single streak of white like snow.

You know who, and you say who before you even think who, uttering out it’s, his, name in a hushed whisper.

Childe.

Your weapon forgotten, you stand shellshocked in a corner of the room, so still and frozen that Childe himself attempts to rise to his feet, only to fall back to the ground with a pained cry, a sound that snaps your thoughts like shattering ice as you rush to support him. He scratches his claws on the ground, hiccupping, sobbing, whining tearfully at a pain you can’t see. You place a hand on the side of his face and he leans into it, almost slumping to the ground as he brings his hand up to cover your own. He stares at you, pained and suffering, with the same melancholy as before, a melancholy you now understand means I cannot love you, even though I so wish to, it is forbidden by fate and stars, and your heart breaks. 

You pick up a distant rumble of thunder, and Childe yelps in fear, wrapping his claws around you and pressing his face into your side, trembling. Your fingers stroke through his hair, running down the sides of his face and horns, and his sobs die to labored breathing as exhaustion finally overtakes him and lets his body relax.

You remember the day the ocean poured down from the sky. It was now, in a dark room with a pinprick flame of light, holding the consequences of the Abyss.

[delphi-dreamin]

Just a Big Puppy

Have a fluffy little piece about beastmaster Delphi. This has been written for a while, I just decided to share it today because I need validation...

Characters: Lucifer x Delphi, Cerberus

Word Count: 1,152

Warnings: None, is just fluff

“Dearest?” Delphi croons from the door to the office, poking only her head inside. Lucifer is at his desk, an enormous stack of papers in front of him. His jacket is hanging on the coat rack beside the fire, his tie is loosened, and he's wearing his glasses already. His disheveled state doesn't bode well for the rest of the night.

Hearing her call to him, Lucifer looks up with a softly dazed look, rather than the annoyance she'd typically expect him to have for one of his brothers interrupting him. He blinks his crimson eyes blearily, hardly able to open them back up after a moment.

“Yes, love?” he replies, stifling a yawn. It isn’t even 8 yet and he’s already falling asleep at his desk. Honestly, what is she going to do with him?

Delphi steps inside the door, a thick leather cord draped over her shoulder and a pair of long gloves tucked into her back pocket. She hooks her thumbs in the belt loops at the front of her jeans and smiles at him.

“It’s time to feed and walk Cerberus,” she explains. “You told me not to go without you?”

“Right,” Lucifer agrees. He rises from his seat at his desk and stretches. He attempts to grab his jacket, but Delphi doesn’t give him the opportunity, racing out of his office and toward the stairs leading down to the underground tomb. With a sigh, he follows her, catching up in only a moment.

“Do you have a death wish?” Lucifer snarls, grabbing her by the shoulder before she can open the door down to the tomb. Delphi turns to look up at him, eyes sparkling and a wide grin on her plush lips.

“No death wish,” she giggles. “I’m just excited to see my sweet boy!”

“’Sweet boy’?” the demon repeats, brows darting up nearly to his hairline. “Surely you don’t mean Cerberus?”

Delphi nods. “I do! We’ve been having some excellent heart-to-hearts on our walks and I think we understand each other.”

She stands, bouncing on the balls of her feet for another moment while Lucifer just stares at her. She waves at him.

“Come on, don’t just stand there!”

They make it to the bottom of the stairs before Delphi calls out, “Cerberus! C’mere sweet boy!”

To Lucifer’s amazement, the giant three-headed dog comes bounding up to them, skidding to a stop in front of his tiny human. All three heads lower to lick her while she laughs and attempts to pet them all. He doesn’t quite catch what she’s saying as she laughs, but he does manage to catch ‘Cerbie’ and ‘Just a big ol’ puppy’.

“Alright, Cerbie, who’s my good boys, huh? Who’s my good boys?” she gushes, putting on the gloves and producing a large bucket of meat from…somewhere? Lucifer hadn’t noticed it before. The massive dog’s tail wags uncontrollably and each of the three heads are trained on Delphi, watching her intently.

“Okay, Cerbie, sit!” she commands.

Lucifer's jaw drops when Cerberus actually obeys, still-wagging tail kicking up a cloud of dust. The hellhound has never obeyed anyone but him before. And Cerberus has never behaved like this before either. Like a pet dog.

“Good boys!” Delphi exclaims. From the bucket, she tosses a hunk of meat to each of Cerberus’s heads.

Lucifer shakes his head in disbelief as Delphi looks back at him with a grin.

“How did you manage that?” the demon asks, nodding toward the giant dog.

“I told you, we understand each other,” Delphi says with a wide smile. She turns back to Cerberus and calls, “Isn’t that right, Cerbie?”

Cerberus’s middle head barks in response, then goes back to its meal. Delphi beams up at Lucifer, a rosy blush painting her cheeks. The pact mark on her throat warms and pulses, but she can’t quite tell if it’s her own pride or Lucifer’s.

“You’ve said that twice now,” Lucifer mutters, “but I don’t understand. How is it you understand each other? Is it because of our pact? Can you somehow talk to animals?”

Delphi giggles, taking off her bloodied gloves, and puts a hand on his arm. “No, I can’t talk to animals, love. And our pact could very well have something to do with it. But I’ve always been good with animals. It’s really just a matter of learning their behaviors and boundaries and respecting them. Same as people.”

“Darling,” Lucifer sighs, “you’re terrible with people.”

Rolling her eyes, Delphi replies, “Yeah, I know. But I’m good with animals. Animals are less judgy.”

Lucifer chuckles, taking her hand in his. He squeezes lightly, enjoying the darkening red in her cheeks and the brighter glow of the pact mark on her neck. He reaches his other hand up to brush a lock of hair behind her ear when a loud whine sounds from beside them.

Delphi turns to Cerberus with an indulgent smile.

“Did you finish, Cerbie? Are you ready to go for a walk?” she coos.

All three of the massive heads bark an affirmative, and Lucifer can’t help but chuckle. He goes to take the leash from Delphi but she swats his hand away.

“I got this,” she tells him with a smirk. She saunters over to the massive dog, and with all five feet and three inches of her diminutive frame, reaches up toward the collar on the middle head’s neck.

“Will this human never cease to amaze me?” Lucifer mutters to himself, watching as Cerberus bends down almost into a bow to allow Delphi to clip the leash to his collar. Answering his question, Delphi then climbs up onto the dog’s back, settling down right behind his collar. She grins down at Lucifer as Cerberus stands.

“We’re ready to go for walkies, Lucifer.” She holds out the end of the leash to him. He takes it, dumbstruck at the sight of Cerberus willingly allowing himself to be ridden like a horse.

---

Their walk takes them around RAD, past Purgatory Hall, the Demon Lord’s Castle, and several other landmarks. It’s a cool night, making Delphi thankful that she’s hunkered down on Cerberus’s back. Even if she hadn’t been, though, she’s sure his scorching breath would have kept her warm.

Lucifer leads them on their path nearly silently, every now and then glancing back to see Delphi, eyes shining, cooing and scratching behind one of Cerberus’s many ears. He shakes his head, holding back a smile. Of course the human who managed to make pacts with all six of his brothers and himself would be able to befriend a hellhound. Why wouldn’t she?

The astonished looks they get from the demons they pass on the street only serve to bolster the swelling feeling in his chest. Delphi doesn't notice them; she's too absorbed with showering her new best friend with praise. Lucifer, however, gives them a smug smirk and continues on his way.

[angryschnauzer]

Undercover Honeymoon

Summary; Having survived a helicopter crash that killed off the gang you and your senior agent had infiltrated, you hide out from the storm that brought the aircraft down by pretending to be Honeymooners at a boutique hotel... but what will 24 hours with August Walker bring you? Trouble, that’s what, and the best possible kind.

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader (no race or body type specified)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut, honestly this is entirely smut, its a crack fic too. Sigh, here goes: face slap, murder, August in a hoodie and grey sweatpants, oral sex (female recieving), blowjob, drunken antics, impared judgement, titty fucking, fingering, unprotected sex, anal sex, inappropriate lube, multiple orgasms, dubious consent, choking, dom-vibes, Sugar Daddy arrangement (but no Daddy kink).

I do not run a tag list, but if you go and follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and hit notifications, you’ll get an alert to any new stories i post. All previous fics can be found on there or on my Ao3

Undercover Honeymoon

The helicopter spiralled out of control, the tall pines looming through the storm of the century rain, screaming filled your ears, unsure if it was the sound of the engines failing or coming from your own lungs. The aircraft made contact with the trees and everything went black.

-

“Agent… AGENT!” a slap across your face sprang you from your unconscious state, your vision blurred and you winced at the sharp pain that shot through your temple as the face before you came into focus.

“Walker?” you muttered; “Can’t blow our cover…”

Strong arms gripped your shoulders;

“Wake UP! Everyone else is dead”

The next hour was surreal. Agent Walker - your superior officer - had pulled you from the wreckage of the helicopter, past the lifeless bodies of the gang you’d infiltrated, some of which had injuries that looked suspiciously like gunshot wounds. Either way you were alive and so was the other undercover agent, and having spent the last four days running bank robberies you were relieved to be rid of the brutal gang.

Agent Walker had half dragged half carried you through the forest, and even though it was the middle of the day, the torrential rain and dark storm clouds above made the way feel like you were travelling at twilight. When you stumbled on some roots he caught you, his arm firmly around your waist;

“C’mon Agent, not much further now…” his voice softer than usual, reassuring even.

“Where’re we going?”

“Out of season ski lodge… should be quiet this time of year, just a couple of wildlife watchers no doubt”

-

What you’d been expecting was a cute little place with checkered curtains and cutesy decor, what you’d arrived at was a luxury boutique hotel. Agent Walker had managed to spin a very convincing tale of your car leaving the highway due to the weather and he’d arrange to get it recovered after the storm so you could continue your ‘honeymoon’. The receptionist had smiled warmly and offered the pair of you the luxury suite, August merrily peeling $100 bills off a stack he’d produced from his pocket, the paper band that held them together from the robbery slyly crumpled up and you quietly picked it up from the floor, a tiny smirk on the corner of his face when he spotted you covering his rare mistake.

-

Ten minutes later you were settled in your shared room, starting to peel yourself out of your soaked boots and clothing as you eyed the enormous bathroom and ultra fluffy robes that were provided.

“I’m going to go to the gift shop…” he announced, breaking the silence; “They do hoodies and stuff, i’ll grab some dry things to change into…”

“Thanks Agent Walker… I’m going to take a bath…”

He nodded quietly, standing at the door;

“It’s August… call me August”

You must have fallen asleep in the bath, as the next thing you know there is an insistent knocking on the bathroom door;

“Honey? Honey, everything ok in there?”

“Y-yes, Sorry, fell asleep…”

“Ok Honey, just got room service here delivering some lunch”

“Thanks Aug… Augie…”

Augie? Where the hell did that come from? You mentally chastised yourself. An hour ago he was your senior agent and all round grumpy supervisor, now he was ‘Augie’? You actually facepalmed yourself before taking a deep breath and climbing out of the bath. A few moments later once you were dry, wearing the fluffy robe you stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, your breath catching in your throat;

“Augie… we have company?”

Agent Walker was standing in the middle of the room in his shirt, underwear and socks, talking to the room service attendant as he tipped the young man;

“Darling, lunch is here, you must be famished” he let a warm smile spread over his face as he turned to the staff member; “We must have a bite to eat… expending lots of energy, it is our honeymoon after all…”

Once he’d ushered the man out of the room he cleared his throat and his expression dropped, his face serious again;

“I got your new attire… it fits more with the location” he motioned for you to follow him to the bed where there were a number of things laid out, however your feet were rooted to the floor; “What?”

“You’re… you’re in your underwear…”

He looked down, almost in shock to discover he was without his cargo pants;

“Yes? And you’re completely naked beneath that fetching white robe” he motioned to a side of the bed where a bunch of things were sat on the pristine white duvet; “So unless you wish to eat lunch having me know you are naked save for a glorified towel with sleeves - and that would be a delightful thought - you may want to get changed whilst i shower”

Without another word he smirked, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief and grabbed a pile of clothing on the bed, before sauntering into the bathroom, leaving you open jawed at both his sassiness and his tight ass in snug jersey boxers.

Turning back to what was laid on the bed you looked over what he’d managed to get in the hotel’s boutique; a daringly short floral summer dress, a hoodie with the Hotel’s logo on, a pack of novelty thong panties also with bears on, and the highest heeled wedge sandals you’d ever seen. Although none of this surprised you, it was after all the kind of hotel where in good weather, the rich and famous could have cocktails on the deck as they overlooked the Rocky mountains, the fact he’d managed to find your exact size in everything was impressive.

Leaving the heels off for now, you pull the panties and dress on, throwing the hoodie on unzipped to cover up a little, before going to investigate the food, realising that you probably hadn’t eaten for close to 24 hours. You were bent over the service trolley scrutinising the various dishes that had been delivered when you heard his voice;

“Huh, didn’t need to buy you a wallet, those tiny panties show off your silken purse beautifully Princess”

Spinning around you gasped, about to give him a piece of your mind but your train of thought stopped like a record scratch. There before you stood Agent August Walker, grey sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips, chest bare as he pulled a khaki green hoodie over his still damp curls. You noticed how his beard was a little beyond stubble, his mustache curling as a small smile tugged as his lips. Your gaze unashamedly ran down the length of his entire body, emphasis on length as it was clear he was without any underwear, and those rumours that were quietly whispered in the ladies room at the Pentagon were looking to be true as to exactly why they called him ‘The Hammer’.

Still holding a cooling French Fry he sauntered over to you before grabbing a sandwich from the platter;

“My apologies… that was inappropriate” he took a bite, before talking with his mouth full; “Been a crazy 24 hours huh?”

“Y-yeah, you could say that… so, what’s the plan?”

Just at that moment an incredible gust of wind rattled the windows to the point you thought they would blow in, the lights overhead flickered before settling back to bright as he answered;

“Eat, Drink, Sleep. We’re stuck here at least overnight. We don’t have any cells or electronics people can trace, and having checked the map this is not the closest civilisation to the crash site so even if people did come looking for us, this isn’t the first place they’d think of… however in this weather the roads are impassable, at least two rivers have breached their banks, we’re basically cut off from the rest of the world here in our own little bubble” he took a bite of sandwich before grinning at you; “So eat up, the bar downstairs is well stocked, dinner is apparently served in about 4 hours, and there’s a game room if you’re up for a round or two of pool…”

-

Giggling you both tumbled into your suite, August flicking the light switch up and down before realising the power had gone out at the exact moment he’d unlocked the door;

“Oooh dark… are you afraid of the dark Princess?”

The pair of you stumbled and turned, pushing the door shut and you found yourself pressed between it and August’s body, his lips finding your neck as he pressed kisses along your jugular, his facial hair leaving behind a trail of tingling skin in its wake;

“Depends who i’m in the dark with…”

He was so close, in the faint last traces of daylight as the storm took hold of the night you could see the outline of his face, how his long eyelashes rested against his cheeks as he closed his eyes, his breath warm on your skin as you were surrounded by his scent, pine soap and single malt whiskey;

“A monster…”

“I was never afraid of monsters…”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, pressing a kiss to your clothed stomach before his hands were beneath the skirt and pulling your novelty panties down;

“Hold your dress up Princess, show me that pretty pussy”

Doing as he told you, you gripped the pretty fabric in your hands as he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, pressing kisses to your inner thighs before his thick fingers parted your folds and he dived in. His mustache and light beard pricked at your sensitive skin, but his tongue and lips soothed your aching core, desperate for attention and dripping with need as he went to town on you. He quickly brought you to orgasm before pushing you on for the next, his fingers now knuckle deep in your velvet walls, curling just right to find that spot that had you dripping, his tongue working against your clit to the point where you had to steady yourself by curling one hand through his soft chestnut curls, riding his face as you cried out his name.

Now over sensitive, you pulled his curls to get him to relent, a grunt of frustration coming from between your thighs;

“Augie… please… too sensitive…”

He quickly stood, lifting you to kiss you roughly, his tongue pushing into your mouth and you could taste yourself on his tongue as he gripped your ass as he carried you across the room before unceremoniously dropping you on the bed;

“Strip” he commanded as he staggered to the bathroom. 

You ignored his request, instead reaching for a bottle of water at the side of the bed, taking a drink from he as he returned holding a bottle;

“August… what’s that?”

He looked down at the bottle, almost surprised he was holding something and blinked a few times before looking back at you;

“Baby oil. Its... Baby oil”

“Why do you have Baby oil?” you asked, already knowing the answer but with a sly streak wanting to get him to admit it

“Because they didn’t sell condoms in the gift shop so i cant fuck your pussy because i can’t check to see if you’re on birth control” he blurted out quickly.

Whatever you had been expecting, it hadn’t been that, and as you coughed on the water you had been about to drink, August got distracted and moved to light the candles that sat on the table in the centre of the room now that the only available light was the tiny light over the sink in the bathroom that was battery operated. You watched as he somehow managed to strike the matches and light the candles even though he was visibly drunk, before returning back to the bed and standing over you;

“Why aren’t you naked?” he frowned at you; “Don’t make me rip that pretty little dress off of you Princess”

Shimmying out of your dress you bit your lip as you watched him watching you, the low light dancing over your body and enough for you to see the obscene bulge barely contained by his sweatpants. He stood at the edge of the bed, towering over you before he took hold of your ankles and roughly pulled you to the edge of the bed before he pulled the grey sweats down and you finally got sight of his legendary hammer;

“Fuck…”

“We’ll get to that Princess, but first, suck”

Taking him in your hands he was hot and throbbing at your touch, his thick shaft patterned with veins, heavy and virile. You pumped your fist, your fingers unable to meet as you worked his uncut dick. You felt his hand on the back of your head, pulling you closer until you had no choice but to open your mouth and take him as deep as you could, gagging as he immediately hit the back of your throat and started to fuck your mouth.

Holding your head in place with both hands he rocked his hips back and forth, groaning as he stretched your lips almost uncomfortably. Soon you had spit running down your chin as he rained down a stream of degrading compliments;

“Cock hungry slut, look at you with my dick in your mouth… does it taste good, Jesus christ your tongue is perfect, yeah do that thing again, fuck, i can feel your throat tight around me…” with a gasp he pulled out, a trail of spittle hanging from your lips to his angry red tip, before he grabbed the baby oil and pushed you back until you were laying flat on the bed;

“Push your tits together, i’m gonna fuck them and cum all over your pretty face”

He climbed on the bed, straddling your lower torso as you found yourself pushing your breasts together. The click of a bottle of baby oil and it was being poured in the valley of your chest, before he settled his dick against the slick skin. He dropped the bottle and with a grunt pulled his hoodie over his head, revealing his glorious chest, covered in dark hair and thicker than you had realised. 

His dick was heavy against your chest as he took your hands in his and showed you how he wanted you to hold your titties for him, rocking his hips bath and forth as his hot flesh slipped through your soft pillows, the angry tip poking out at your neck with each thrust;

“So fucking pretty, gonna cum all over that face… you wanna taste my cum you little slut? Yeah? Cock hungry slut, can’t get enough of my dick, can you?”

You didn’t answer, the lust in his eyes making you drunk with desire, instead you tipped your head to your chest and opened your mouth, letting August’s dick slide into your mouth, the salty tang of his precum hitting your senses.

His thrusts were becoming rough and violent, his hips squeezing your ribcage as he fought back against the urge to cum, but you wanted it, needed it;

“August, will you cum on my face, pretty please?” you batted your eyelashes at him innocently and it was the final straw, and you watched as he threw his head back and thick ropes of his creamy seed spurted over your mouth and cheeks as he groaned so deliciously. On the last spurt you leaned forwards and took his tip into your mouth, gently laving your tongue over the leaking slit, before releasing him softly. August had eased his gasp on your tits, and using his thick finger he scooped the cum from your cheek;

“Open wide Princess”

Sticking your tongue out you sucked the bitter treat from his finger, before he repeated it with the other cheek. Finally swallowing you grinned at him;

“Thank you August”

His hand paused on your cheek, softly cupping it;

“Anything for you Princess… now scoot up the bed, i wanna eat that pussy again whilst i get you ready for my dick”

He swung his leg over so you could wriggle up the bed, and immediately he was laying between your legs, both of your thighs over his shoulders as he started to sloppily eat you out again, except this time his lubed fingers strayed to your asshole and he already had one knuckle deep in your back entrance. You were writhing against his tongue, and although not as accurate with his targets this time now that the alcohol in his system was taking hold, that wide tongue was driving you to heaven as his fingers pulled you down into the dark pits of depravity that hell could only contain. You were uttering almost incomprehensible gibberish, begging for more which he eagerly gave, a second and soon a third finger stretching your ass as he prepared you for what was yet to come. You came with a scream as his wide tongue tormented your pussy until you had to physically pull him by his curls to stop, breathless as you watched him kneel on the bed and grab the baby oil, pouring some onto his hand to lube his dick before smoothing a considerable amount over your asshole and lined up his now raging hard on with your stretched hole. He paused, looking down at you;

“Final chance to back out… do you want me to fuck your ass?”

“Yes… please August, i want your dick in my ass, i want you to cum in my ass, treat me like a dirty anal slut”

With a groan he pushed forwards, slowly breaching your body and you felt the uncomfortable stretch of having a dick slide into your ass. Even with the prep and the oil it still took a while for your body to relax enough for him to push in, but when he eventually was balls deep in your ass you felt so full you were sure you would burst;

“Oh my god… You’re so big…”

“Taking me like a champ Princess, even with the oil your ass is so fucking tight i’m struggling not to blow my load right here and now”

“Fuck my ass August, do it hard, i wanna feel it in the morning…”

With a roar he started to fuck into you, holding himself up on his massive arms as his hips pistoned into you, filling your barren depths as his pubic bone rubbed against your empty pussy and your juices flooded his crotch;

“So fucking wet Princess, leaking all down your ass, its only adding to the lube so i can fuck you harder. Your poor little battered asshole, you’re barely gonna be able to sit tomorrow… apart from back on my dick as we have breakfast, don’t think this is the only time i’m gonna fuck your ass, i’m gonna use this hole until you’re loose and stretched, so i can just bend you over and slide my dick into your ass. Gonna hide those stupid panties i bought you, i want you walking around bare, my cum dripping down your legs where there’s so much inside you, you can barely keep it inside… shame the gift shop didn’t sell plugs, i woulda’ filled you with my load and have you plugged and ready lubed for me to use whenever i pleased…”

August’s dirty talk had you cumming hard, squeezing him tight and yet he fucked you straight through it. Laying limp as he continued to fill your ass he slowed and moved, kneeling on the bed as he moved your legs from either side of his lips until both your feet were over one of his shoulders, pushing and pulling you until he had one arm firmly wrapped around your knees and he could fuck into your ass as he held you like a rag doll. The new position was tighter, deeper, and as you started to pant out with lust his free hand rested on your throat, squeezing carefully but firmly;

“Harder…” you panted out, your head swimming as your airway was restricted, and as he pounded into your ass you were both getting close.

“Gonna cum in your ass, fill you up with a massive load, you want that Princess?”

You tried to say yes, but all that came out was a tiny croak as his massive hand gripped your throat. Before you could even try again your orgasm hit, your eyes rolling back in their sockets as you squirted, your body gripping him so tight he reached his peak, pushing in as deep as he could as he pumped your ass full of his cum.

August released his grip on your neck, pulling out gently as he softly lay your legs on the bed;

“Did so well Princess, such a good little slut…”

You could only hum out a response, your mind as used as your body was.

-

You woke to the sound of soft rain falling against the window, peering out from beneath the duvet you could see that the grey light of morning was filling the room, the storm seemingly blown mostly through with just a persistent rain now dampening the earth. Shifting on the bed you winced, everything was sore, but especially your ass. But then a warm body pressed to your back, a large hand smoothed over your stomach and a familiar voice spoke softly in your ear as stubble brushed against your bare shoulders;

“Rise and shine…”

“Hmmmmm no, i don’t wanna get up” you grumbled

“But…”

“Noooo. If we get up then we’ve got to think about things going back to normal, i just wanna pretend i’m able to stay in a hotel as nice as this when i’m not trying to escape a dangerous gang… too many responsibilities, too much stress… i just want another half hour of being treated like a Princess” you grumbled.

A quiet chuckle came from behind you;

“There’s no reason why we can’t do this again”

Turning in his arms, you looked at August;

“How? You’re my superior Agent, the CIA pushes and pushes and pushes, I never get enough time off to do something like this, If i had known i was literally signing my life away i would never have signed up for the academy. What’s the fucking use of earning a good wage if i can never enjoy it… and its not even that good of a wage to be honest…” you paused and narrowed your gaze; “Have you showered?”

“Yes. And i have a proposition for you…”

“Keep talking…”

August started to move, slowly climbing between your legs and you felt his hard dick resting against your folds, your pussy instinctively growing wet, slowly rubbing against you as he smiled down at you;

“As a senior agent i get a considerably better wage than you do, but i don’t have anyone to share it with, anyone to treat like a Princess and spoil with gifts that they deserve… but i also want someone that will be agreeable to my darkest desires…” he rocked his hips back before slowly parting his thighs, and you felt the nudge of his tip at your soaked pussy; “... someone, a woman i can treat like a Princess but will let me fuck them like a whore… can i fuck your pussy like a whore?”

The gentle nudge of his dick just stretching the ring of muscle that granted access to the heaven between your legs had you begging, pleading to be August’s Whore. He let out a sigh of pleasure as he slowly sank into your pussy, bare and unprotected filling you with his virile shaft;

“You’re my Slutty Princess…taking my dick like a pro”

In that hotel room August Walker became your sugar Daddy, and over room service breakfast you agreed the details of your arrangement as you sat on his lap, his dick in your ass as he fed you strawberries, before he grew impatient and bounced you on his dick until he came in your barren depths. Resting back against his chest, his softening dick still inside you he played with your pussy as he discussed the next step, trying to decide if a trip to an adult store or a jewellery store should be the first stop after returning to DC;

“How about a jewelled plug?” you suggested; “That’s the best of both worlds”

Holding your jaw he turned your head so he could kiss you, pulling away and grinning;

“See, that’s why you’re the perfect Princess, smart and sexy…”

You felt him start to harden in your ass again, wriggling and letting out a giggle as you felt him stretch your insides;

“Over the table or out on the balcony in the rain?” you asked

“Oooh lets do the balcony… its check out time so a few other guests will be able to see my little slut have her battered asshole filled with another load”

There on the balcony that overlooked the serene mountains August filled your ass again, your naked bodies soaked with the rain as he gripped your breasts whilst he fucked you from behind. 

You couldn’t wait to be August’s play thing.

[killuaisaprincess]

chu~

“Here.”

In an instant, their pile of candy grows three times as big, as their mentor drops all the candy from her bucket into their stack.

She pats the edge of the pumpkin bucket; rather gently for her, smiling with an air of cockiness, flipping her ponytail.

“I am not fond of candy.”

Yeah, after all, she is an old hag…

She was proud of her pink succubus outfit that won her second place in the costume contest. The only reward was a lousy card and tons of candy, though.

“Since I was so amazing and won!”

Second place.

Gon stares bewildered at the pile, humming out loud. “I think Killua would’ve won if he actually had entered.”

Killua abruptly stops his counting of their more enormous pile of candy, warmth flurrying in his chest, burning against his cheeks and ears. He drops the small bar he was holding, grabbing at the edges of his witch's hat, and tugging it down.

“S-stupid! Don’t be ‘mbarrassing… there wasn’t any point…”

No one needs five years' worth of gumballs unless you’re Hisoka, maybe, and a debatably even lousier card than second place.

Besides, he doesn’t want everyone to gawk at him… he only wants Gon to see…

He aggressively unwraps the yellow paper off a ball of chocolate, popping it into his mouth.

He can’t tell if Bisky is annoyed or crying… as she walks off.

“Well, don’t stay up too late! You’re free from training for tonight.”

“Oh! And make sure you check the candy for razors and brush your teeth; you don’t want cavities, brats!”

If Bisky is still lecturing him, it is dull and ringing in Killua’s ears; along with Gon’s affirmatives and osu’s; he swallows the candy full, his chest and limbs heavy. It hurts to breathe. There’s still a lump in his throat that won’t go away. He coughs to try and get it out.

Get what out…?

It’s itchy and scratchy, and it hurts.

He tugs the hat off, ripping the edges of the black underskirt of his dress. How much it had cost doesn’t even cross his mind; he’s just trying to stay grounded, fingers curled up near his chest.

It’s all fuzzy… the dirt beneath his feet… the sky...

Gon’s saying something he can’t make out; it’s too…

Much…

“…lua…”

“Ki…”

He opens his eyes slowly, not even recalling having closed them, his face flushed, and fingers digging tightly into Gon’s sleeve and part of his green cloak.

He loosens his grip, guilt pricking against his skin, but presses his flushed face deeper into Gon’s shoulder. He didn’t know when he had gotten here… clinging to Gon.

“Killua. Are you okay?”

Gon’s hand is warm on his shoulder, warmer than the ground, hot to the touch, despite the moon shining above them.

“…’m sorry…”

Gon’s sweet. He just shakes his head, and Killua slowly pulls his fingers away from Gon’s arm and sits up, his skin turning a shade of pink at the thought.

He occupies his mind, pulling each piece of candy out of the wrapper and checking it as Gon stands up and goes to their bag, fumbling through it.

Killua's not doing a sufficient job, fingers shaking and struggling to rip at the plastic, but it’s anything to keep himself from sinking.

“Maybe we should go back to the inn, too.”

Gon suggests it like it’s no problem at all. Like their fun won’t be ruined by doing that. Although maybe it already was…

He offers Killua a water bottle, and Killua places his candy down, averting his eyes; Gon had already taken off the cap... Killua takes it with both hands, chugging. It’s warm, and it doesn’t make the lump go away.

Crestfallen blue eyes look down at his outfit, partly soaked in water now. Killua wipes his lips, placing the empty bottle down, fumbling to grab a piece of candy once more.

“What about all the candy…?”

Gon taps his foot, and Killua can all but hear the smoke coming out of his ears as the other boy tugs off his wolf ears and his cloak, plopping down next to him.

“I’m sure they’ll let us bring it all! …Uh, maybe…”

Gon adds too sheepishly at the end, fluffing out the cloak and turning it sideways, placing it over Killua’s shoulders.

Killua stiffens, the lump in his throat joined by his heart palpitating, as he shyly scoots further away from Gon, pulling the cloak closer, fumbling with a piece of candy in one hand, and grabbing a longer strand of his hair with the other, tugging on it.

“N-no! I mean…”

Gon doesn’t seem shocked at his outburst, closing the gap between them again and joining Killua in checking every piece of candy.

“Did they…?”

Gon’s voice goes cold for a second, and a shiver runs right down Killua’s spine.

He doesn’t like it when Gon gets all cold like that. It’s scary. He’s scared he’s going to lose him.

Killua presses his head down against Gon’s shoulder to bring him out of it, which it does; the other boy looks down, mouth open. It does, but maybe he also did it for a reason he won’t admit; he likes being near Gon’s warmth.

He bites down on his lower lip, chewing on it, inhaling shakily.

“No. I mean, yeah, but never enough to make me lose my tongue…”

They were always precise, small enough, dullish, but enough to hurt and enough to bleed.

Gon’s goes rigid against him, small rumbles of anger making him shake.

Killua grabs Gon’s arm again, trying, oh, so, trying. Gon stops, and that’s what he wants, but he knows there’s also a selfish desire deep down that also just wants Gon’s support. Stupid. Idiot...

“Killua.”

Gon says it so comfortingly, like the sharp blade of his words hadn’t been there mere minutes ago.

And he wraps an arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer, and Killua closes his eyes.

“I liked it on Whale Island, you know…? There weren’t any unexpected surprises…”

Even if it was hard to drop his guard… there weren’t any bad ones…

“Mmh. I’ll take you again, I promise.”

He wants to stay right here in this moment… forever… but if he does, it’ll be that much harder when Gon goes somewhere he can’t follow.

He ruffles his way out from underneath Gon, shaking his head and stretching over and picking up his bucket and hat.

It’s just the full moon… he twiddles with the ribbon on his chest, leaning over and giving Gon a peck on the cheek so fast it’s over before his beating heart even knows it, placing the hat on his head and pulling it down.

“T-there! That’s your treat, so I get to keep all your candy!”

Maybe Gon thinks he’s lost it, or whatever! But he marches off towards the inn, blushing. It's just he...

In reality. Gon just thinks he’s too adorable to question the weirdness.