#CRUMBS AND DROPS OVER THE DESERT

[ghoulphile]

sticky fingers | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, dirty talk, degradation kink, fingering, squirting, rough sex, size kink, standing doggystyle, overstimulation, teasing, choking, dacryphilia, cooper howard is his own warning (he nasty y'all), canon compliant - takes place around ep 7, a grab bag mix of the show and the games ➥ summary | “Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.” ➥ notes | i love my men like i love my beef jerky 🫠 i wrote this over 16 fevered hours after finishing the finale. hope you enjoy~ minor edits 4/22/24 | x posted to ao3 | masterlist | feedback is always appreciated ❤️ feel free to send in thots, questions, requests!

It begins, as most things in the Southwest Commonwealth do, with a fight for survival.

City life is tough to be sure, but here on the outskirts of pocket civilizations where there’s nothing but long stretches of desolate wasteland - arid, sunbaked earth and scorched shrubbery - for miles around?

Well, if the ferals, fiends, and super mutants don’t get you in the night, then the desert itself will. During the day the sun burns overhead so nuclear hot, heat glimmers on the horizon in dancing waves.

Unforgiving, relentless as blink-and-you-miss-it mirages are swallowed by ever shifting sands.

It’s easy to get lost.

Even easier to boil alive in your armor if you’re unprepared.

Far too many travelers from the Eastern Commonwealths have met their demise here, where shade is sparse, and water even moreso. The rain - if it does blow in over the mountains - brings rad sickness.

If you’re lucky enough to still be alive, the only reprieve from the heat is in the stooped bones of bombed buildings and ramshackle shacks... where you're just as likely to catch a knife in the back from a chem fried addict as you are relief.

Because here, in the Wastes, danger lurks in sand and shadow alike.

You don’t trek out into the flats half-cocked: a fact all locals know. And if you do decide to? Well, you learn one way or another.

No, only the truly ignorant - or the desperate - dare to tempt man and nature.

Consequently, as you dust off the crumbs from the last half of a Fancy Lads Snack Cake and suck a melted smear of icing from your thumb, you're of the latter half.

You tried holding off for as long as you could. But once the shakes started, you knew you couldn’t put off eating lest you pass out and wake up in a slaver camp.

Well, shit, you think as you rattle a dented canister of purified water. This fucking sucks.

Almost going cross-eyed, your tongue hovers under the rim as you watch the last lazy drop fall free. You catch it with a grimace, smacking your lips. The water tastes metal warm in your sour mouth, barely enough to wet your whistle - let alone your thirst.

You began rationing the last of your supplies days ago, and it’s been a battle against light-headedness ever since. Pretty soon you won’t have the strength to defend yourself, scavving be damned.

Come on. Think - gotta think. What can I scrap for caps?

Not only is Filly more than half a day away, Ma June isn’t one for charity cases. The fact she offered twenty extra caps last time for some burnt books and bent bobby pins was as close as you were ever going to get to a Wasteland miracle.

Sunken cheeks and pleading eyes can only get you so far; everyone’s gotta eat.

"Fuck..." The palms of your hands grind into your eye sockets until you see stars. "FUCK!"

There are two unspoken laws in this otherwise lawless land: steal or starve, live or die. A grim reminder that surrounds you in old bleached bones, empty bullet casings, and scraps of cloth fluttering in the breeze.

Someone always has to be top dog. If you’re lucky, they might be willing to share their spoils.

It’s as you’re considering what pieces of yourself you’re willing to barter that you see them. On the horizon, coming from the west, are two dark blobs.

Stark against the flat plains - a shining beacon of salvation - is a man in a ratty duster and cowboy hat. The saddlebag tossed over his shoulder bounces with his steps while a dog trots beside him, its sable coat rippling with muscle.

Pay dirt.

Making sure to keep low and distant, you stalk them. Watching, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

When the sun dips low, the sky a swath of pale pink and gold, they make camp at a blown-out Drumlin Diner. Off in the distance, thunder rumbles and sickly clouds gather.

Dark and roiling, acid green; a Radstorm brewing.

Electricity cracks at your skin, stands your hair on end. You scrub your hands over your arms, huddling into yourself for warmth. Meanwhile, the stranger seems to luxuriate in the budding promise of rad rain.

He lounges under an awning, his back pressed against a defunct Nuka Cola fridge. He gazes in the direction of the oncoming weather while mindlessly running his fingers through the dog’s fur as it curls up against his legs.

Occasionally, its ears twitch, and its eyes crack open.

Whenever it glances in your direction, you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut but it never gives any other indication that it notices your presence.

A small mercy you’re thankful for.

While you’re a pretty good shot, your body is weak with hunger. Besides, you have quick hands and light feet. There’s no doubt you can stealth your way in and out before he realizes his pack is lighter than he left it.

You’ll only take what you need - not interested in causing any more trouble than is necessary. Some food, maybe something to drink if he can spare it, and something to pawn. Just enough supplies to get you sorted in Filly.

Anyway, he certainly isn’t hurting for it by the look of things.

Any guilt you felt was short-lived when he settled down after dropping his pack inside, walking out with an inhaler of Jet in one hand and a can of Cram in the other.

Watched, greedy, as he cracked it open and picked at the tin of meat with lazy fingers. Salivated as he sucked them clean in between deep pulls of chem.

Soon, you decide, licking your lips as he chews, swallows. Soon.

However when push comes to shove, the stranger proves far more keen than you give him credit for.

The world spins like a hit of Daytripper, a kaleidoscope of color as your skull bounces off the wall with a loud crack. Air rushes from your lungs as something huge - hot and heavy - slams into you from behind.

Pins you against the wall with ease as your ears ring.

Something rattles loose; your teeth too large and your tongue too thick. Warm metal floods your mouth as the side of your face throbs in time with the rabbit fast stutter of your heartbeat.

Pain sparks and your stomach rolls.

"Wha's?" you slur, thoughts dripping like wax. "Wh-at's..."

Meanwhile, a gloved hand lassos around your throat like a collar. Brute fingers squeeze the tender flesh of your jugular until you hear your pulse in your ears. Senses struggling - sluggish to adjust in the encroaching night - as tiny cavities eat at your vision, little pockets of darkness.

“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal," a gruff voice mocks. “Betcha thought you was real slick, huh? Tch. You ask me, you’re dumber than shit, Darlin'.”

Trying to regain your bearings, you shake your head only to groan. “I don’t - ‘m not -” It’s difficult to concentrate, a throbbing tempo taking up residence in your temples. The words come slow. “Wha’d you mean?”

He whistles, long and low-pitched, "D’ya have any idea who you're fucking with?"

“N-No…”

“How’s about I show you, then?”

Warm breath puffs over the shell of your ear, a tongue sliding out to trace along the lobe. You jolt, squirming in discomfort as he crowds closer.

“Tasty lil thing like you, wrapped up all nice and pretty just for me." He chuckles. "Why, it must be Christmas.”

What the hell is he talking about?

It’s hard to breathe with his heavy weight suffocating you; the scent of gunpowder and bitter smoke clogging your nostrils with every labored inhale. His lips - ragged - scrape over the nape of your neck.

The grip on your throat squeezes once, twice; leather sticks to your sweaty skin.

You squint your sore eyes, taking in the faint flickers of firelight that spill through the open doorway. The desert chill of night has settled in, creeping through the busted out windows to dig beneath your padded armor.

Thunder rumbles directly overhead as lightning follows in flashes of acid green. It’s only a matter of time before sheets of rain come pouring down; the air sticky with humidity, trembling with energy.

The Radstorm has finally arrived.

You’ll undoubtedly get sick if you leave the shelter of the diner - might even die from it if you can’t afford or find any RadAway. But as the stranger’s chest digs into your shoulders, and the dog curls up in the corner - uncaring of your plight as its nose tucks into the whip-thin tail - you think you’ll take your chances.

Tilting back to glance at him from over your shoulder through damp eyes, you say, “Look--”

Only his hand moves, viper quick, as it slides from the front of your neck to the nape. Strong fingers clamp down like a vice, like scuffing an unruly dog.

He grinds your face into the wall, rough metal shredding your cheek.

You cry out, a soft, pained little thing that echoes through the empty diner.

“Now why’d you gotta go an' make me do that?”

A phantom glimpse told you all you needed to know; broad jaw, thin lips, a hollow nasal ridge, creeping radiation burns and cracked skin. Ghoul.

“Let’s try this again, Sugar.”

His free hand - sans glove - creeps over the curve of your hip to splay along the swell of your belly, fingers tucking up under the hem of your shirt. You shiver at the stroke of roughened skin.

“Don’t take another peep or I might jus' have ta pluck out those pretty eyes of yours.”

Dread pools low in your gut, a leaden ball.

Everything in you screams: RUN, RUN, RUN.

Alarms blare but you freeze. Stare straight ahead at the featureless wall, eyes wide and unseeing. Through the foggy mire of your thoughts - half formed and shapeless - you have enough presence to understand the precarious nature of your position. 

Heart hammering, you plead for mercy, “Please, I’m - I’m sorry.”

"Aw, ain't that real sweet?" He remains impassive, unmoved. "The little thief does got some manners after all."

Without warning, the sharp toe of his cowboy boot kicks apart your feet. In the ensuing empty space between your thighs, his leg slots into place. Spurs dig into the tender meat of your ankle, little kisses of pain, as his hips rut forward against your ass.

You choke on your spit, pulse jumping in your throat.

"H-Hey, that's..." You attempt to shove at any part of him you can reach to no avail. Built and broad with compact muscle, it's like trying to move a brick wall. "I said I was sorry, okay!"

He ignores you, burying his face into the space behind your ear. A deep inhale sounds next to your head, the expansion of his chest against your back so firm you're not sure you won't fuse together.

The whiskey rough groan he releases does wicked things, makes your mind wander to places it shouldn't. Full of grit and gravel as his cock twitches against your backside, a burning line of heat.

A shiver ricochets down your spine.

He grunts, says, "Mm, you smell good enough ta eat."

The cap of his knee nudges up against your clit with a sudden jolt, shocks of pleasure electrifying your body. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and a sob threatens to scrape its way up from the depths of your throat.

You swallow, mouth desert dry. "Come on, let's just forget all about this, yeah?" you reason. "No harm done. I'll even give you whatever I've got left so - so..."

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, the vibration rattling through your chest. "So?" he prompts, plucking at the waistband of your trousers.

"So let me go?"

"Now why would I go an' do an asinine thing like that?" he replies. "If you think you can buy your freedom, think again, Sweetheart."

Rain pings off the metal roof, the smell of pungent ozone and rusting metal wafting in through busted windows and open doors.

“'Sides,” he pauses to turn your attention outside, “I’d hate ta have you yakin’ before the fun’s even started.”

There’s no way to misconstrue his meaning when he punctuates the statement with a teasing rut of his hips. Those rugged fingers tug open the clasp of your trousers, yank until the material goes slack and pools around your ankles.

“Hey, wait--!”

You jolt, hands scrambling for purchase as he slides his leg against your core. The friction of his pants through your thin cotton underwear makes you ache.

Ripping through your bottom lip, blood beading to the surface, you choke on a high-pitched whimper. "I..."

There's no way he can't feel your reaction.

How quickly you're getting wet as he drags you along the length of his thigh while yanking your hips back into the cradle of his pelvis. You meet him in a slow grind that boils your blood and steals the breath from your lungs.

It’s been - shit - far too long since you’ve felt anything other than hunger, thirst; the animal drive to keep pushing forward.

"You like this, don'tcha?"

You hear the dagger-sharp smile hidden in his words.

He croons, "What would your fellow smoothies think, huh? Here you are lettin’ a ghoul get you all hot n bothered - and you’re lovin’ it. Ain't you?"

You throb in response, heat stealing its way into your cheeks as you turn your head away in shame. His dark chuckle lets you know he felt the squeeze of your thighs, the rock and dip of your hips against his knee.

"I - I don't..." you stutter, struggling for a retort. “I’m not--”

A tremble works its way through your body, crushed as you are between the rad warm burn of his body and the wall. Completely at his mercy as you try to figure out where it all went wrong and what you can do to worm your way out of this one.

Terrified of what'll happen if you stay, terrified of what'll happen if you go; stuck in limbo as what was meant to be a simple grab-and-dash devolved into this confusing cluster of shame and lust.

You loathe the embers of desire kindling to life low in your belly.

"You really outta start bein' more honest, Sweetheart."

A large hand dips beneath the worn band of your underwear, and you wait with baited breath. Helpless as calloused fingertips brush over the swell of your mond.

Your inner thighs are uncomfortably sticky with slick, and your eyes burn in humiliation. Your throat trembles around all the words you want to say.

"Didn't anyone teach you lyin' was bad?" he asks rhetorically as his fingers slip down to play with the swollen bud of your clit, tapping lightly.

You keen, low and wounded.

Short nails dig into your palms as you flex your hands for want of something to grab onto.

“I am being honest,” you bite out through grit teeth. Sweat dapples your furrowed brow. “Just lemme go, please.”

"I find that hard ta believe," he replies. "Sorry to say, but you're shit at lyin'. Just look how hungry your lil cunt is for me."

It’s the only warning you get before those long digits plunge deep inside, two becoming three as they stretch you wide. Hollow you out; knuckles massaging your entrance as the tips prod along the sensitive front wall of your cunt.

You clamp down with a strangled moan. “Shit!”

This is a horrible idea - but it’s been forever and a day since you’ve felt anything other than your own touch.

Whether it be the bone-deep loneliness you’ve been shoving down for months or the sudden, inexplicable need for contact, you long for a reminder that you’re still alive.

That you’re not some wrath of the Wasteland filled with sand and blood, doing whatever it takes to survive in a place that would rather see you fail.

“I - I’m not sure.”

He snorts but offers no council or reassurances, using his free hand to yank at the back of your head in impatience. While it might’ve been a fairer fight if you weren’t in such bad shape, there’s no denying that he’s proven himself to be more adept.

Stronger, quicker.

This is going to happen either way.

And that turns you on - even though you feel like it shouldn’t.

If you give in, if he forces you to give in, it’s not really your fault then, is it? You can enjoy it because you have no choice.

Fuck it, you think, closing your eyes and tilting your head to the side in submission.

Like a doll with cut strings, all the fight drains from your body and you’re left sharing space. The ghoul is a furnace of heat behind you, barely any space to breathe he’s crowded so close.

His cock thickens where it digs into the soft fat of your ass, as large and intimidating as the man himself. “Now stay still for me.”

The or else goes unspoken.

Then he’s stepping away, a rush of cold air filling the empty space at your back.

You shiver, tempted to turn around. Maybe make a run for it. The only thing stopping you is the awareness that his threats aren’t so idle. In your experience, it’s far better to befriend the monster than to anger it.

So you comply, waiting an eternity as your senses strain to pick up on anything other than the murmuring hush of rain, the rumble of thunder, as the Radstorm continues to blow its way through.

Though just when you think he might’ve left, ready to chance moving, you hear the clink of a belt buckle clicking open. The scuff of boots across the linoleum before broad hands shove up under your shirt, scarred palms bare as they settle on your hips.

You tense before forcing yourself to relax.

“You ain’t as stupid as I thought,” he says. “Good girl.”

A test.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I can listen,” you mumble, keeping calm as his hands explore the plains of your stomach, pluck at the waistband of your panties. “Promise ‘m not gonna do anything else.”

Learned my lesson the first time. Got my skull cracked open for it.

“That’s what I like ta hear.”

Without warning, your panties are being ripped from you, scraps of fabric fluttering useless to the floor. You squawk in indignation but then a heavy hand settles between your shoulder blades.

He presses down, and you follow without complaint, finding yourself bent in half.

And then the fat head of his cock is right there, teasing at your entrance. He plays with your cunt, slipping the shaft between your wet folds. Dragging up the length of you to tap at your swollen clit.

Jerking in his hold, you whine and try to bear down with all your weight. “Please,” you squirm. “Please, c’mon…”

His grip remains firm, bruising as he exhales next to your ear, a pleased little grumble. “Thatta girl. Now tell me, who’s my pretty lil thief?”

Every hard ridge of his body bites into the softness of yours, your stiff nipples dragging against the rough material of your shirt. Zings of pleasure shoot through you; bursting in your bloodstream, fizzy like warm Nuka Cola.

“I-”

“Go on now, Sweetheart: say it.” Fingers dig into your hips so hard your bones ache. “Or I jus' might be tempted ta take a bite outta your pretty lil backside instead.”

He’s bluffing, you think, half delirious, … Right? He wouldn’t--

You swallow, throat clicking, and squirm against him.

Is that a chance you’re willing to take?

No, no it’s not.

“Y-Yours - I’m - I’m your little thief.”

The unexpected flare of satisfaction in his voice is almost your undoing. A hand pets down your flank, swatting the outside of your thigh playfully.

“Good girl.” He demands, “Say it again.”

Sharp hip bones kick forward against your ass as he lines himself up and starts to bully his way inside.

“I’m - YOURS!”

Your soft, gummy walls flutter, squeeze until giving in with a pop under the hard pressure of the fat head. His cock stretches you out, thick and girthy.

Ridges of scar tissue and patches of rough friction pockmark his shaft, massaging tender places as he fills you up, fucking you open.

He feeds you inch after inch… until he can’t.

“Wait!”

Accommodating his girth is a struggle, your cunt filled to the brim by the time he’s halfway inside. No amount of slick could make him fit, so he makes do with harsh little jerks of his hips. Forces himself deeper and deeper until he glides home nice and smooth, sheathing himself to the base with a sigh of satisfaction.

You clamp down hard with a hiccupy whine, walls furtively trying to push him out. “A-Ah!”

“Goddamn,” he huffs, hands kneading your ass, “You’re a tight fit.”

Tears prick your lash line, your hips shifting as you try to stop him from moving. Begging for a moment of reprieve. You’ve never taken something so big and thick, so textured before.

Coupled with the minimal foreplay, it feels like he’s punched his way through your body. Hollowed you out to make a home for himself.

Pussy aching, a low burning tightness creeps over your lower belly as tender flesh pulses uncomfortably around the unforgiving heft of his cock seated deep inside. You swear you feel him poking your belly button.

“Please,” you pant, heat settling into your cheeks. “J-Just wait a sec-ond! I can’t - oh shit.” 

“Aw, look at you.” Fingers reach around to brush over your cheeks, gather the tears that’ve slipped free. “Didn’t mean ta make you cry,” he lies.

The sound of him sucking his fingers clean reaches your ears. Your stomach swoops, and your clit throbs. Dazed as you wonder what his mouth would feel like on your pussy.

"Hah - too much, you're - fuck - you're too big."

He snickers. “Can’t be helped, I guess.” Body rippling in a shrug, his hands re-settling on your hips. “But that’s all right - I like it better when they cry.”

Before you can retort, he pulls his hips back.

Your toes curl in your boots, feet squeaking across the linoleum floor as your sweaty forehead grinds into the cool metal of the wall. The texture of his shaft burns as it slides through your swollen folds, dragging against sensitive spots you didn’t even know existed.

You can’t tell if it’s the best you’ve ever felt or the worst, but you nearly sob all the same, nerves alight with liquid fire. Want him as deep inside as he can go; a frenzy of desperation that needs him to stuff you so full you choke.

“See for all your whining, you’re takin’ me so well. What did I say about bein' honest?”

You sniffle, blurry eyes creaking open to stare out the window.

Your body throbs in time with your pulse, your pussy so stretched out you can’t clench down when he thrusts in deep. The fat mushroom head teases your cervix, a faint whisper, before he’s drawing back again.

“T-Too fast,” you stutter, head rolling back to rest on his shoulder. Your thighs tremble, knees going soft. “Slow down, slow down.”

“Sh, you can take it. I know you can.”

With a grunt, he surges forward. Wasting no time in starting up a brutal pace that rattles your bones. He drives you hard into the side of the diner; tits crushed and face smashed, a disgusting mixture of tears and drool wetting your cheek.

“Just like that, Sweetheart.”

You do little more than hold on, all thoughts driven from your mind as he fucks you swollen and bruised. Cunt a sticky mess as your slick eases the way, clinging to your inner thighs and dripping down his heavy balls.

Every thrust punches little sounds from you, and he grunts. “Fuck!”

Your hands cling to the sides of his hips, focusing on the shift of muscle beneath heavy fabric. “I can’t,” you slur, eyes cloudy as you glance up into his, gazes meeting for the first time. “Please, I - ah!”

His thrusts turn punishing, even more so than they already were, hips meet your ass with enough force to leave bruises. “What did I say about sneakin' a peek?”

While the words sound threatening, his voice is heated and breathy. For all his talk, he doesn’t look away. In fact, his hips slow into languid rolls, grinding close. When your eyes slide from his, he reaches down to pinch your clit between his fingers.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides. “You keep those eyes on me.”

Pretty, you think, dazed.

Glinting in the slants of firelight like wet sand or a Nuka Cola bottle in the sun; bourbon warm as they peer at you from beneath a heavy brow bone.

“That’s it, there’s my good girl."

Eyes fluttering when he flexes his hips in reward, the tip massaging along your g-spot, your mouth drops open on a whine.

“O-Oh! Right there, I - fuck, please don’t stop. ‘m so close.” F-Feels s'good.

His bare hand reaches up to curl around your jaw, gnarled fingers pushing their way past the open circle of your swollen lips. They compress your tongue as they gather saliva, stroking along your tastebuds.

Gritty, rough; he tastes of dirt, blood, and gunpowder.

You sneak a kiss to his scarred knuckle when he pulls free.

“Shit, I’ll be damned. You’re just a nasty lil freak, ain't you?”

You moan in response, stretching up on your tip-toes and arching your hips to change the angle. Your palms rest beside your head, docile.

A crazed grin cracks the corners of his lips, his teeth bared like an animal. “I like that,” he husks. “Now be a peach…”

Then those soaked digits are finding their way between your thighs, ghosting over your skin to smear spit onto your abused clit. The tender bud throbs beneath his fingertips, swollen and begging for attention.

He hitches his hips forward to feel you jerk, pulsing beneath his touch as he resumes a fast, jolting pace that has you smacking into the wall.

“And cum for me.”

A deep rumble escapes his throat, the sloppy, wet sounds of him fucking you ringing loud in your ears. Your hips roll, unsure if you want to press forward into the swirl of his fingers or back into the rut of his cock.

Tears stream down your cheeks, your chest heaving with weak sobs.

“Please,” you whine, his shaft pinching your walls uncomfortably. You feel swollen, rubbed raw. “A-Almost there.”

A nip to the ear is all it takes.

“Hhaah, I’m--!”

The liquid heat that’s been pooling low in your belly - building and building - finally bursts in a gush of slick that soaks his hand. Darkens the crotch of his pants as it drips down your thighs to splash against the tile.

You sob, a full body tremor zipping through you like bottled lightening.

In the aftermath, your cunt twitches in time with your heartbeat. Hands numb and head full of cotton as cramps bloom between your hips. Sharp little stabs shoot up behind your navel.

“Shit, I’ve got myself a gusher,” he laughs, a nasty little smirk tugging at his lips. “Look at the mess you made. Now if you ask real sweet-like, maybe I’ll let you clean it up with your tongue.”

You sag, too boneless to be ashamed as electric aftershocks tingle along your nerves. All the while, his pace never falters, quickly fucking you into overstimulation.

Your clit twitches pathetically when the fat head of his cock drags along your g-spot. "No more," you mumble weakly, letting him maneuver your body how he likes. "Please."

“Heh, let’s see if you can do that again.”

You whimper, “Oh, oh, please n-no. I - I can’t. You’ll break me.”

“That’s real cute,” his lips, harsh and rasping, drag over the shell of your ear, “but I wasn’t askin’.”

The grip on your hips tightens to the point of pain, digging in and marking you up.

“Now, why don’ we have some real fun, Darlin'?”

[wreckmetoji]

Don’t Call Me Friend

A fic in which you find a cynical man desperately needing medical attention

↳ Millions Knives/Reader

content warning. gender-neutral pronouns, afab reader, mild overstimulation, unprotected sex, profanity, shameless smut, slight fluff, alien genitalia, oral (m!receiving), fingering, creampie, knives has never seen a pussy in his life, probably missing some tags but it’s 8 in the am and im tired

this is a fic trade piece dedicated to @strbrmlk​! Go show them some love, they have lots of Knives content!

minors DNI

8.7k words

The light was unlike anything you had ever seen. It was cataclysmic, swallowing a city whole and whoever dared to remain, and even from so far away the shockwave winded you and made your eyes burn. Bright scorching purple, a light so pure and refined you had half a mind to think it was cast down from heaven itself. A shaky sigh pushed from your lips, shoulders sagging at the weight of the realization the city you were heading to had just been completely leveled, now nothing but a crater.

 Perhaps you would take advantage of the night and keep traveling. Your bones ached, legs begged you to stop and rest, but now there was no refuge. You had to persist. Fuck, how far away was the next city, the voice in the back of your mind nagged as you began packing up your few belongings. You were nearly out of supplies, running dangerously low on water and even worse off for food. It was fine, everything would be fine, you always managed to scrape by no matter how dire or desperate. 

 With a low grumble, you hiked your bag over your shoulders, adjusting the straps before spinning on your heel and making your way back. Only upon glancing over your shoulder one last time, did you see a second impact several yards away. It was smaller, much smaller, and you would have missed it had you not seen the plume of sand that flew into the air as a result. Was it rubble left over from the blast? Had anything managed to survive that? Curiosity got the better of you, sliding down and climbing over dunes hastily to see what had landed so close. Maybe, if you were lucky, it was some intact supplies. Wishful thinking, maybe. 

 Upon reaching whatever- no, whoever- had landed, your hands flew up to your mouth as you gasped. A body, unidentifiable, completely burnt and scorched to a crisp, missing flesh in his arms and face. You inched closer, tiny steps carrying you nearer as you gave him a good glance over. Usually the sight and smell alone would leave you gagging, but you were compelled, maybe they were alive?

 A slow rise and fall of their chest was all you needed, luck be on their side. Not on yours however, considering your survivors guilt would eat you alive if you had just left the poor man, so now not only were you stuck trekking across a barren desert with little to no supplies, you were doing so with a dying man that was in desperate need for medical attention you were most certainly not qualified to execute. Still, you did your best to wrap him in the comfort of your sleeping bag, tactfully tying it up with some spare rope and wrapping around your waist and arms. The chances of him surviving were less than slim, but you would be damned if you didn't at least try to save his life. 

 This conclusion nearly killed you, several times throughout your trek back to the small town you came from did you encounter obstacle after obstacle. Hungry vultures preying on the smell of death, inconspicuous bandits waiting around every rock and dune, and the fact you hadn't had a crumb of food or drop of water the entire way. At some point you must have started hallucinating, because you swear you could see the burnt skin on the stranger's face stretch in some unexpressed emotion when you poured the last droplets of water in his mouth. Regardless, the sight of the town flags waving in the wind was enough to nearly bring you to tears. Glancing back at your injured traveling companion, you huffed out a relieved sigh, whispering, "We'll get you some help, friend. Don't worry."

 As it turned out, medical professionals were just as shocked as you to see someone in such horrible condition to still be living and breathing, and even responsive. Perhaps you weren't hallucinating when you saw him move earlier. 

 It took hours to get him in a bed, wrapped in bandages and gauze, leaving you to sit in the tiny room with him and sweat over the quadruple digit medical bill resting in your hands. No good deed goes unpunished, you thought to yourself, gently sighing and reclining in the bedside chair next to the mysterious man. You had money, sure, maybe enough to put a down payment and work the rest off over the next couple weeks running odd jobs around the small town. Maybe you could borrow a car and make some money off of supply runs, now that July was destroyed you could imagine They were just as desperate to help as some off-the-map backwash towns. 

 Movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention, seeing a tenderly gauze wrapped arm shift, attempting to raise up with weak urgency. You stood from your chair, sliding onto your knees beside the bed, resting your hand as tenderly as you could on him. "Hey, it's okay," You called out, to which you could see him tense ever so slightly, "It's okay, you're all patched up. Don't be afraid, you're in good hands. I promise."

 Recovery was speedy, the doctors had mentioned. The mystery man was making amazing progress, and the speed in which his scorched skin was healing was inhuman. What would have taken months, years, if at all, was taking less than weeks. Those weeks you spent working at a local baked goods shop during the day, and a bar at night, keeping you endlessly busy and then some. Still, though, you would find time at the end of every shift to slip by the medical clinic in which the mystery traveler was stationed at, sitting with him for a bit and talking. It was odd, you noted, telling someone so much about yourself, the things you're interested in, all the way from your name to your favorite book you've managed to forage out of the odd pawn shop. It was odd having someone know so much about you, and you didn't even know what they looked like, who they were, how they sounded. 

 Still, you liked to think he enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed his, even if he couldn't say anything. 

 The day you could no longer keep up with the payments for his care was the day the weight on your shoulders tripled. The nurses were empathetic, stressing over the steps you would need to take if you were to do it yourself, but emphasized the clinic wasn't a charity. Only slightly concerned one of the nurses mentioned he did have to be sedated nearly every time they changed his bandages, or he would put up too much of a fight, how the hell were you going to get sedatives? In all, you understood, and part of you knew this would be where you ended up, considering two minimum wage jobs could only get you so far. At least now instead of exorbitant medical fees, you could house him with you in your shitty little rental. Now you could see him more often too, you just hoped that his bandages would be fine through the day, or maybe you would have to start taking your lunch breaks to come home and tend to him. He was your responsibility, after all, and you had made peace with that. 

 Honestly, you were expecting the first day to be the worst. You stood from your kneeling position beside your bed in which the man was currently occupying, taking a deep breath and mentally going over all your steps on top of he puts up a fuss, don't be surprised. The second your hand made contact with his covered shoulder, he flinched, and you mimicked the reaction, squeaking a quiet, "Sorry! I should have said I was going to touch you." You sighed again, resting the supplies on the bed. "I've never done this before, so... Please be patient with me. I'm just trying to help, friend."

 Unsure if maybe it was a familiar voice, or your reassuring words, but he definitely wasn't a nightmare like the nurses mentioned he would be. You unwrapped, washed, put on the required prescription ointment, and then re-wrapped both of his arms, quickly moving to his head. Your fingers hesitated, hands hovering over his neck for a moment. You could still see his scorched face, the missing skin, and showing bone. Still, it had to be done. After steeling yourself, and verbalizing where you were going to be touching next, you began to work the bandages from around his neck, then his jawline, slowly revealing him to you. 

 It was a sight you didn't think you could have ever prepared yourself for. You'd been told he was making a speedy recovery, not a freakishly inhuman recovery, but the skin on his face had nearly completely healed over. The skin was fresh and stretched and definitely not an accurate representation of the man he once was, and the voice in the back of your head silently wondered if it would scar like that, but his eyes. You couldn't stop the quiet gasp that left your mouth as your hands dropped, his right eye being revealed to you. Despite the wounds, the scaring, he was beautiful, even as he fixed you with a confused glare. "Oh," You found yourself saying, cheeks ruddy and thoughts scrambled at the way he stared at you, "S-Sorry, I just- I wasn't expecting..."

 Unable to finish your sentence, your hand reached up instinctively to touch at the healed patch of skin at his jaw. Turquoise gaze shot down, hand flying up to intercept your course of action, snatching at your wrist in a tight hold. You couldn't will yourself to be shocked, or scared at the amount of strength behind his grip, only staring at his exposed eye with silent wonder. Finally, you whispered, "Sorry... You're just... Your eyes are very beautiful. Please let me change the rest of your bandages?" To your surprise, he did, his eyes glancing out the window as you removed and replaced his bandaging. When you asked if he would prefer to have the bandages off or over his eyes, he didn't reply, only continuing his hardened forlorn gaze out into the streets below. So, you decided for him, leaving his eyes uncovered. It was a hardened decision to leave him a stack of bandages to change whatever was under the waist and above the thigh, not wanting to impede on his privacy more than you already had.

 After you finished up, you sighed, standing and cracking your back. "I have to go to work now, bills don't pay themselves. There's some pre-made meals in the fridge, and some bottled water as well," You smiled at him, his gaze refusing to meet yours. You took note of the slightly disgusted scrunch of his face, your lips curling in a sad, empathetic smile. "Please... Make yourself at home. What's mine is yours." You gathered up the used bandages, throwing them away, shuffling about for a bit, before leaving for your day.

 When you came back on your lunch break, you took note that he hadn't eaten anything. You would have found it odd, if not for everything else that surrounded him in his shroud of mystery.

 Life continued like this, and even if you were working yourself to the bone and absolutely exhausted at the end of every day, you found satisfaction in the recovery of your anonymous guest at your hand. It was enough to keep you going, knowing someone needed you. Even if sometimes you caught his frustrated glares, or looks of disgust out of the corner of your eye, you found it hard to take them personally. You wouldn't exactly be thrilled to be in his position, and accepting help was difficult for some people. Nevertheless, every scowl and glower he gave you was met with that same sympathetic smile, brows upturned, radiating nothing but unending kindness and compassion. You couldn't pinpoint when, unsure exactly how it came to be, but his dirty looks became less and less, slowly being replaced by what could be misconstrued as disinterest, but there was something else. Curiosity, maybe?

 "Okay," You called over your shoulder, sliding your shoes on at your front door, "I'm headed to work now! I'll be home a bit later than usual, I need to pick up groceries, so if there's anything you want I- I..." You patted down your pockets, brows furrowing at the realization you had misplaced your wallet at some point in your rush to get ready. 

 "Here," A baritone called out from behind you, scaring the living daylights out of you.

 You shrieked, whipping around with your hands up and out, as if you had any grace or tact to defend yourself against a potential intruder. Instead, you were met with a broad bandaged chest, eyes glancing up slightly to see that same look of indifference with something. What came out of your mouth was more a puff of air than a laugh, disbelief convincing you that you had just heard things considering up until now you had assumed he was mute. 

 "Th....thank you," You muttered, gingerly plucking your wallet from the palm of his bandaged hand. Meeting your eyes for just a moment too long, you found yourself searching. Searching for that unnamed emotion you saw whenever he looked out the window, or when you caught him watching you eat your food out of your peripherals, or whenever you gave him your understanding, endlessly kind smile. His abhorrence was apparent, before he turned around and headed back to your room. 

 Most of your day was spent thinking about your auditory hallucination, or at least that's what you chalked it up to be. It was deep, authoritative, and had a chill running down your spine. It also really couldn't have been anything else, and you had thoroughly gaslit yourself into believing you were crazy until you heard him speak a few days later.

 The stress of having two mouths to feed was quickly smothered upon realizing the man you had taken in didn't require food to survive. You wondered just what kind of being he was if not human, and the words fallen angel briefly passed through your mind. There was no such thing, and the thought alone was silly in itself. Still, it never stopped you from wondering just what you had gotten yourself into. Distracted thoughts wandered, resulting in you slicing at the tip of your finger as you prepared your dinner. You yelped, quickly sticking your index finger in your mouth purely on reflex. 

 "Stupid creature," Came that same baritone, your gaze shooting up and meeting the hardened gaze of your guest. Your mouth fell open, blinking stupidly at him, before your brain caught up to what he was saying. All you did was laugh, pathetically, and nod your head.

 "Yeah, it was a stupid mistake, wasn't it?"

 He seemed taken aback by this, downcast brows raising slightly as he watched you rinse out your cut, but not take the time to patch yourself up. You simply went back about your business making food, avoiding using your injured finger as you continued. He scoffed, which garnered your attention for a second time, your gaze coming back up only to see him turning on his heel and walking back to your bedroom.

 After dinner, you gently knocked on the bedroom door, slowly emerging with an armful of supplies. Unsurprisingly, he was on the bed as he usually was, looking out the window. Pattering your way over, you dumped the supplies beside him on the bed, kneeling on the floor to sort through everything, noting the fact he was already sticking his arm out for you to begin your work. This had been your routine for weeks, but even after all this time he never once willingly complied. The sight made you smile, a small laugh escaping your lips as you unwrapped him, put on the cream, then re-wrapped him. 

 "You're making fantastic progress, I'd say you probably won't have to wear so many bandages anymore after this week," You mused, working on the bandages on his chest next. "It's crazy, your hair is growing insanely fast, your skin is basically as good as new-"

 "Why do you persist?"

 The question caught you off guard, his voice scratchy from lack of use, but the deep rumble of him rattled your body. You paused, unable to answer right away. "Because... I saw someone out in the middle of nowhere gravely injured. I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself if I just left you there."

 "So you pity me? You think you're superior, and this is for your own satisfaction?" 

 Despite the venom tainting his voice, you couldn't help but smile, shaking your head as you applied more cream to him. "No, absolutely not. I don't think I'm better than anybody. I saw someone hurting, and I know how it feels to have people turn a blind eye when one is in need of help." Your eyes glanced up, a lump in your throat forming when you caught him gazing down at you. "Humanity is... lost, I think. Everyone is caught up in themselves and their wealth and their own general wellbeing, we forget to take care of the people and things around us. We forget that we can't just take, and there has to be some give. So this is me trying to be a giver in a world full of takers, I guess."

 "It's pointless. You're insignificant." He scoffed, lifting his arms as you worked your way down. 

 "Yeah, maybe. Maybe I'm never going to amount to anything, and I'll have spent my life trying to make up for humanity's shortcomings and regret it later on, but I'm willing to accept that when the time comes. For now, I'd just like to help you get back up on your feet," You emphasized your words by tying a little knot in the gauze, holding it into place. Standing, you reached for his neck, your hand being intercepted for not the first time. He held it there, not as hard, but there was a threatening aura if you disobeyed his silent request. You stood, quietly, nodding for him to say his unspoken words.

 "You didn't bandage your hand earlier," It was more a statement than a question, but you understood the connotation behind it regardless. 

 With a shrug, and a smile, you braved through the threat and pushed your hand forwards, unwrapping him. He let you, surprisingly, with an unreadable expression. "I would much rather have all the supplies I need to take care of people that need help more than me. It's just a small cut, after all." He was quiet, watchful eyes peering at you as you unwrapped his now growing tufts of platinum blond hair. It was coming through smooth, even, as if he hadn't been scarred from head to toe in burns. "Besides," You continued, decidedly leaving the bandages off his head, "Why would I waste perfectly good supplies on someone insignificant?"

 Maybe it was because he wasn't expecting your self deprecating answer, or throwing his description of you back at him, but he seemed genuinely surprised. You didn't take the time to enjoy it, simply flashing him another smile before gathering up the used bandages and supplies and leaving him to his solitude he seemed to enjoy. 

 In the following days, he became a bit more chatty. At first you only noticed his presence, hovering around you in your general space, and part of you wanted to laugh at how similarly he behaved to a cat. The second you would acknowledge him, or glance in his general direction, he would leave the area, as if he didn't want you to perceive the fact he seemed to be curious about you and what you were doing. It was cute, despite the dangerous aura he seemed to exude sometimes, and you found yourself looking forward to just being able to exist in the same space as him. Once he managed to warm up to the fact you didn't seem to want or expect anything out of him, he became more obvious in your space, offering a roll of his eyes as you spoke to him about nothing at all in particular. Sometimes it was your day, your coworkers, something interesting you saw at the market. You never asked anything of him though, not even his name. He had given you a stern look one morning, asking why you never wanted information out of him. I'd like to think if you want to tell me something, you'll tell me when you want to, you said softly, who am I to make demands and take what I want from anyone?

 He never really had much to say when you answered his questions, but you could always sense the surprise. The realization came to you quickly, the side eye he would give you when you smiled at his otherwise hurtful comments or cynical view on you and your species speaking volumes. It was like he had already formed an opinion of who you were, a predisposition to fall into simple categories of "good", and "bad", with humanity, including you, falling into "bad". Nevertheless, you continued to surprise him, constantly going out of your way to make him a priority, put his comfort above yours to the point where you had been damned to sleep on your lumpy, three-times thrifted couch. Never once did you complain about the crick in your neck, or your sore shoulder, or the tweak in your back that made you wince when you knelt down to change his dressings. You were doing this of your own volition, after all, simply happy to help someone that was obviously deeply wounded by people before you.

 The day you came back dirty and defeated and worse for wear was the day something significant change in him. 

 Pushing through your apartment doors as normal, you saw him sitting on your couch, brows furrowing at the state of you. Your face was dirty, palms and forearms scraped and bloody, a small cut on your cheek and matching cuts in your work clothes. Despite your appearance, you greeted him with a weak smile. "I'm sorry," You huffed, setting a paper bag on the counter, walking over to the kitchen and washing up your hands, "Let's go change your bandages quick."

 Leaving no room for argument, not that you were sure he would do that anyways, you gathered up the necessary supplies and crouched in front of him on the floor. Trying desperately, but failing, you winced as you gloved your scraped palms, and this time finding yourself unable or willing to meet his gaze, You could feel him watching you, calculating your every movement. You had finished up quickly, now that he was more man and less bandage it was an easier process. Finishing up, you gathered all the used supplies in a pile, tossing it into the garbage. Looping back around the couch, you took a final look at him before nodding, a forced smile through pursed lips. "Alright, I'll get dinner start-"

 An iron grip encased your wrist as you began walking back around the couch, holding you firmly in place. You winced again, his fingers encasing a particularly nasty scrape. You didn't resist though, simply staring at him with a confused expression while he stood from his sitting position. He dwarfed you completely, despite the lack of exercise and movement he was still built and arguably massive, so you found yourself staring in awe whenever you were in relatively close proximity. 

 "Clean yourself up. It's an eyesore." 

 Perhaps his words stung more than they should have, but you sighed, nodding slowly. He released your wrist, letting you walk to your room to grab a change of clothes. Unlike his previous mannerism, existing in your general space without getting too close, this time he was hot on your heels, directly behind you the entire time. Plucking up some comfy pants and a loose shirt, along with a towel, you trudged your way over to the bathroom. Once you reached the door, you went to close it, eyeing him suspiciously as he stood in place with his arms crossed just past the threshold. Closing the door with a click, you stripped, turning the taps on and hopping in. Feeling the tears well up that you had been staving off were harder and harder to fight back, deep in and out breaths only helping so much before the cloud over your head began to storm. Before you could let it consume you, you washed yourself up, dried yourself off, and got changed, deciding distracting yourself would be better than wallowing in self pity at the loss of your wallet, groceries, and dignity. 

 Upon opening the door, your guest was still firmly stood in place, completely unmoved from his last position you saw him in. You stared back, taking a small step forward and hoping he would get out of your way. His eyes were watchful, knowing, and the way they peered down at your scrapes and bruises, then came back up to your eyes was enough to tell you what he wanted from you, and that he had no intention of getting out of your way until then. 

 You didn't know why, you didn't know why that was what broke the dam, why the smallest glance had tears pooling in your eyes and falling down your cheeks. You stood there, staring at each other as tears bubbled past your eyes and cascaded down your cheeks, until a soft sob left your lips. Hanging your head, you watched your tears hit the tile of the bathroom floor. Perhaps because you were clouded with stress and regret, you could justify taking a step forward. Perhaps, because you have been trying so hard for so long, you just needed someone to tell you that you were doing a good job, you could justify resting your forehead on his chest, loosely wrapping your arms around his waist. For the first time in the months you had known him, you took, and you felt a deep guilt about it.

 "I'm sorry," You whispered into him, closing your eyes as you went to pull back. A hand at the back of your head stopped you, pulling you back into your weak, one sided embrace. Despite the fact he didn't rest his arm around you, despite the fact all he did was put a hand in your hair, you found yourself tearing at the seams, coming undone and sobbing against him. 

 After a couple minutes, your shoulders stopped quaking, your sniffles began to subside, and you heard that deep voice in the crevice of his chest speak. 

 "Finish cleaning yourself up," His voice was low and assertive, to which you let out a small saccharine laugh, nodding your head against his chest. 

 "Okay. Thank you, friend," You slowly took a step back, looking up at his firm expression. Brows upturned, you offered your signature bittersweet smile, still teary eyed and ruddy cheeked as you wiped your face. His expression fell, lips downturned at your harmless name for him. It was visible, the cogs turning in his head as his eyes watched you brush the tears from your face, glance down at your pouty lips and wet jaw, then back up to your eyes. 

 "Nai."

 "P... Pardon?" You paused, watching him take a step towards you. 

 "Call me Nai," He took another step forwards, crowding you in his space against the bathroom counter. You found yourself bending back a bit, eyes wide and glassy as you watched him lean into you.

 "N-Nai," You repeated back to him, watching his eyes search you again. This time it was more frantic, his mouth hanging open, obvious distress on his face until he was nearly nose to nose with you.

 "Again."

 "Nai... What are- mmf-" 

 All it took was a blink. You blinked, and his lips were crushed up against yours in a searing kiss. It was desperate, needy, forceful, expressing every emotion he had kept bottled up in the back of his mind. White knuckle gripping the edge of your bathroom counter, you leaned back even more, spine bent over the surface at an uncomfortable angle. You tried pulling back, tried to ask him what he was doing and if he was okay, only for a hand to come up and firmly grip your jaw, holding you in place. The hand on your face squeezed, prying open your mouth with ease, his tongue licking into your open mouth before pressing his tongue against yours. Just as you let your eyes shut, just as you began to press back up into him, he ripped away, taking a stride back. Panting and delirious, you blinked through your daze, seeing the disgusted scrunch of his nose and downturned brows as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

 Flinging the partially closed door open, Nai stormed out in a heated rush, leaving the door to hit the wall and bounce nearly to a close again. All you could do was stare at the empty space where he was once standing, your mind having to work double time to catch up with everything that happened. Taking a deep, shaky breath, your fingertips ghosted across your lips in stunned silence. He looked so desperate, so hurt, and more than anything your heart ached at the expression that had graced his smooth, angelic features when you had spoken his name to him. Completely torn, unable to weigh the pros and cons of simply just leaving him be, or being at his side, you decided against your better judgement and slowly exited the bathroom. Your hair was still wet, cold droplets penetrating the thin fabric of your night shirt. Steeling yourself, you pushed through the threshold of your bedroom, only to see the tall man ripping off the bandages on his arms and chest. You sprung into action immediately, concerned for his healing process.

 "Nai, stop that-" 

 "Do not!" He yelled, turning around and facing you. His eyes were wide, stress evident on his face due to his inner turmoil. When you swallowed, taking another step forward with an outstretched hand, he snarled, clenching his jaw. 

 "Please, Nai, let me fix your bandages-"

 "Why do you persist?!" He asked for a second time, "You are a disgusting, unworthy creature. You are insignificant and meaningless! You have no right being so similar to him!" Insult after insult, he stepped closer, never lowering his voice, "Your kind are repulsive, you do nothing but take, nothing but steal, nothing but hurt."

 The fact you only pursed your lips, unmoving in front of him, seemed to escalate his fury. 

 "What makes you so different?" He growled, impeding on your space for a second time this evening, the malicious aura surrounding him different as his hand shot up, clasping around your throat and fingers digging into your jaw. Still, you did not move, only wincing when he tilted your head back at an angle stressful on your weary muscles.

 Your docile, unintimidated nature broke down his walls, his grip wavering, before loosening completely. He kept his hand in place, his chest heaving from his one-sided outburst. Quiet, much more quiet than he had been, he whispered, "Why are you so different?"

 Slowly, as not to shock him, you raised a hand, eyes downcast at a portion of his arm that was scratched and bloody, most likely from his frantic half attempted escape out of his dressings. You were careful, wrapping the ripped dangling bandage around that spot, lifting your other hand to tie it off. Grip slipping, his hand slowly slid down the column of your throat, the heel of his palm resting on your collar bone while his fingers brushed your pulse points. He was impossibly close again, but this time there was no distress. There was no urgency. Only disbelief, and that familiar inkling of something else you had gotten used to finding in his eyes.

 "I understand," You breathed, taking his sagging shoulders as an okay to keep going, "I understand that... People are cruel, and evil- I know. I encounter it every day. I know. It's tragic, and horrible, and that's why I try so hard to make up for others' shortcomings. I try my best to be the good I want to see in this world."

 Turquoise eyes watched your hands continue tying off frayed ends, watched your lips purse and eyes grow glassy at the state of him, and he huffed a sardonic laugh. "It's pointless."

 "I know. But that doesn't mean I'll ever stop trying."

 Only met with silence, you scanned his expression, seeing that same bewilderment you were met with nearly every time you surpassed his expectations. It made you smile your signature smile, a small puff of amused air leaving your lips as his fingers twitched against your skin, enclosing the base of your throat in a loose grip. There you stood in silence with him, letting him mull over whatever he needed to sort through internally, you would be patient in letting him take his time. Gaining trust was never an easy process. He noticed this, brows furrowing as your hand came up and gently caressed the rough tattered fabric clinging to his arms. He swallowed, and just as you opened your mouth to ask if he wanted you to fix it for him, he was barking a quick order.

 "Get on the bed."

 Instantly you were bashful, cheeks heating up in a vibrant blush, ears warm and expression puzzled. Still, you listened, watching his hand fall from your neck before stepping over to the bed. You crawled on, settling yourself in the center of the mattress before spinning around and facing him, folding your hands in your lap as you awaited his next request. You never ended up receiving one, simply shuffling up closer to the pillows as he climbed on with you. Once again, he was caging you in, eyes searching you for any dishonesty, as if he still had his doubts about you but was unsure how to prove you wrong when you were so irrevocably good. His interest seemed to outweigh his suspicion, or maybe there was something else that had him gravitating towards your melancholic, teary eyed optimism. Perhaps that him he had mentioned was not so different from yourself. 

 Unsure what to expect, you simply blinked at him, slowly leaning back on your forearms, before laying down, his body unmoving as he watched you shifted your weight to lay on your side. Your eyes stared out the window towards the starry night sky, listening to the rustling of fabric sheets, before the mattress was sinking lower behind you. The sudden shift in weight had you pressed back against him feeling an arm come around, elbow resting on your waist, forearm tucked around your waist and hand dipped under your side, you inhaled sharply, tensing slightly. His uncertainty and back and forth had you confused, unsure exactly what he wanted to do or what he thought of you, but the closeness and physical touch had your throat growing tight and those familiar tears welling up.

 "Nai... What are you doing?" You asked, barely above a whisper, unsure exactly what his intentions were with you at this point. Only met with silence for a short while, you closed your eyes, soaking in his warmth- because God was he warm- appreciatively. 

 "This helped my brother when we were young." 

 Understanding he probably wasn't going to elaborate further, you simply huffed a small, weak laugh at the insinuation he was treating you like a child, but you were grateful nonetheless. You weren't expecting him to have the capacity or compulsion to help you, considering many occasions had come up in the weeks you knew him where you had been in a position of needing help and he would only watch scornfully with crossed arms. A cheeky smile cracked your features, daring to turn your head and glance back at him at the risk you would be pushing him away. You were going to say something about him treating you like a child, but your smile fell the second you saw the expression on his face. His brows were downturned, but he looked tired, a twinge of sadness he poorly masked as irritation.

 "Your brother must have been lucky to have you," You whispered, unsure what else you could have said, unsure if there's anything you could say to take away his pain and sadness. "I know I am."

 There was a spark of recognition, realization, a switch being flipped in the back of his mind you barely managed to catch before he was leaning into you, slotting his lips against yours. You were surprised by him again, but much more accepting to his advances now that you got a brief glance into the window of his mind. He had so much inner turmoil, internalized emotion he masked with anger or irritation or indifference. Pushing into him, only enough to reciprocate, the arm around your waist tightened before turning your body, flipping you on your back. Gasping when your back hit the bed, the old springs below groaned in retaliation as Nai made space for himself between your legs, forcing them apart with flat, firm palms. His short, platinum blond hair illuminated by the moonlight made him seem even more angelic, the pale white light accentuating every dip and crease and crevice of his fit physique laying underneath tattered, torn bandages. You breathed as he leaned down, unable to contain your quiet, "Beautiful..."

 It was difficult for you to comprehend, the languid kiss becoming more tongue, his teeth bared and biting at your lower lip when you pushed back, threatening to invade the space of his mouth. Strong hands came up to the small of your waist, grabbing at you in such a way it made you vividly aware of the fact he was so much bigger than you. He seemed to realize this too, pulling back from your spit ridden kiss to glance down at your much smaller body so pliant in his hands. His brows furrowed, mouth hanging open slightly as he squeezed. It wasn't hard, only enough to make you squeak, his eyes shooting up to glance at you through his light lashes. His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, pushing it up and past the swell of your breasts despite your flustered protests. Not even realizing your eyes had clamped shut, you cracked an eye open to glance up at him, surprised to see him transfixed. His hands grabbed, squeezed, brushed, every bit of skin, setting your nerves on end when he always nearly avoided touching the most sensitive parts of you.

 The thought of has he not done this before briefly crossed your mind, but was dismissed when he thumbed over your nipple, eliciting a drawn out whine from your throat. You were half expecting him to have a negative reaction, considering every time you had an innately human reaction to something, he was quick to scrunch his nose and turn away. Instead, he repeated the action, leaning down to shove his tongue in your mouth in the process. It was easy, your gasp and whine allowing him immediate access, and your eyes were rolling back at the feeling of him caressing and squeezing you. Another whine pulled from your throat, this time muffled by his mouth and tongue, you gently placed your hands on his wrists. He tensed, but didn't stop, a silent affirmation that you could keep going. Your hands skated up his arms, over his shoulders, arms winding around his neck, nails slowly dragging up the top of his spine. He groaned, squeezing your breasts in his hands, before his hands shot down to your hips, pulling you up and into him to meet the roll of his hips. 

 "Ah! N-Nai!" You gasped, glancing down at the pair of oversized borrowed sweatpants he had donned nearly every day living with you. Never had you been so happy to own a piece of clothing from an ex, and the satisfaction of watching your house guest fill them out much better was a treat in itself.

 "Again," He demanded, watching your expression scrunch and release as he rolled his hips into you again.

 "Nai," You breathed, throwing your head back against the pillows, nails digging further into his back. The noise he emitted was animalistic, grip wavering on your hips. You heard a rip, eyes shooting open and glancing down to see your shorts and underwear in tatters on the bed. It looked as if they had been put through a shredder, and all you could do is stare with absolute bewilderment as to how he had managed that so quick.

 However, you were unable to say anything, now being zoned in on the heave of his chest, or how his eyes locked on the line of your pussy. A lump formed in your throat, wondering if maybe something was wrong, if maybe he thought you looked weird, or gross, and subconsciously you tried to tuck your legs up to close them, but with him occupying that space there was simply no room. He glanced up at your eyes again, then down, a hand abandoning its place on your hip to thumb over your already embarrassingly wet cunt and part you. Sitting back on his haunches, using his knees to push your legs apart further, his other hand came down, spreading you with both thumbs to observe. The embarrassed noise that left your lips didn't tear his attention away, hands coming up to hover over your mouth as you watched him, once again begging the question...

 "Have you never seen one before?" You blurted out, cheeks rosy and eyes half lidded. Really it was the only explanation, as far as you were aware you weren't completely abnormal down there, at least not that you were told. Almost immediately regretting your decision, the slow slide of his eyes up to your face, he didn't answer, but there was a tinge of pink at the tips of his ears that spoke for him. "Here," You bit your lip, a hand coming down and slowly sliding your fingers down, then up, gathering some of your slick before rubbing at your sensitive bundle of nerves, "Like that."

 Nai seemed to look apprehensive, confused, only for a moment before he mimicked your actions. You keened, back arching slightly as he pressed his fingers just a bit too hard. Reaching down, your fingers encased his wrist, holding it back slightly. "Gentler, you have to be gentle... Please."

 A frustrated scoff was all you received, nevertheless his actions seemed much more careful, gentler, and you were only moderately concerned that the thought made your heart swell. With his middle and ring finger moving in slow, deliberate circles, you arched your hips into him, eyes sliding shut once again as he toyed with you, his fingers quickening in pace. His name was a mantra on your lips, syllable after syllable egging him on, before his fingers came to dip down like yours had. They dipped down a bit too quick, too hard, his fingers dipping into your aching core up until the second knuckle. A choked out scream was ripped from your throat, not expecting the sudden intrusion, but his curiosity gave you no respite. His fingers delved deeper, then pulled back out, all the while you were gaping at the ceiling at how well only two of his fingers seemed to fill you. 

 "T-That's- N-Nai, it's sensit-ah! " You bucked your hips when his fingers delved back in, seeming to get the idea quicker than you were hoping he would. Crying out a moan, you whined for him, keened for him, peering at him through your lashes as he fucked you with his fingers. Despite being rough around the edges, his fingers managed to reach a specific spot that you were sure was going to make you cum soon if he kept abusing it. As if he had done this plenty of times before, his eyes were locked onto yours, his other hand pressing down into his tented pants. The pants were loose around his hips, baggy on anyone that wore them really, so you didn't know if he was really that fucking big or if it was the moonlight playing tricks on you. It made your mouth water.

 "Nai," You called out to him desperately, hand clasped around his wrist once again, "I want to touch you too," Your voice was quiet, raspy, sweet, and the smile gracing your features made his furrowed brows and focused scowl falter. Pushing yourself up on your forearms, you reached down, finger hooking in the waistband of his pants. Seemingly growing confidence, or more likely it was his ego shining through, he sat up on his knees, allowing your hands to pull the fabric down. 

 It was a visceral effort not to have the same reaction he did to you when you were met with sticky white petals encasing what would have been a normal, albeit massive, cock, absolutely shocked beyond comprehension. You always entertained the thought he was non human, considering how often he spoke lowly of humans and his incredibly short healing period. The glyphs running up the length of him left you breathless, the slow ooze and drip of endless precum coming from the tip making you lick your lips. When your hand gripped him at the base, the glyphs pulsed and glowed, the surrounding sticky petals curling in and around your hand. The glyphs began to spread, across his pelvis, down his thighs, and then you realized where you had seen these markings before...

 A Plant. He's a Plant. His otherworldly beauty and distain towards people suddenly made so much sense, and you couldn't fault him for it.

 Pushing yourself up onto your knees, but still not matching his height, you slowly moved your hand, a quick, deep exhale coming from his slightly parted lips. His cheeks were much more ruddy, a stark contrast to his pale skin and hair, and you couldn't help but smile softly at him as you gripped your fist a little tighter, the slide up and down slick and smooth with how much liquid was dribbling out of him. All you could do was watch, stare, transfixed by the dribble, the glow, before you couldn't take it anymore. 

 "Can you sit back for me?" You were sure he wouldn't be so willing to relinquish control, but the kind words coming out of your mouth weren't unalike the gentle words that you muttered whenever you would wrap him up or tend to his wounds. So, he did, kicking his sweatpants off and sitting back against the wall for you. Leaning down, you continued to pump the length of him. Testing the waters, you gave the head a kitten lick, pleasantly surprised by the sweet taste of the viscous liquid coming out of him. It reminded you of honey, or nectar, the floral scent behind it completely bewitching. Your lips encased the tip, a low groan being punched out from his lungs as you did so, hands working what you weren't immediately fitting into your mouth. 

 Really, it didn't take much to completely unravel him, only managing to hollow your cheeks and move down about half way before his hands were grabbing at your hair and forcing you the rest of the way. Unsure exactly why, even as you gagged you were moaning around him, earning noises from him in return, but you were completely enamored by him and his cock that you didn't care he was pushing his hips up to meet you half way, fucking your face. He was rough, tugging your head down in time with his upwards thrusts, his grunts and groans increasing in frequency as you completely lost yourself in him. Hand reaching down, spinning circles around your clit, you felt his hips stutter and falter before he let out a long, primal groan, pumping your mouth and throat full of cum. You spun your fingers faster, chasing your high desperately as he gave quick, shallow thrusts into your throat, but it wasn't enough. It didn't stop, and you thought you might drown in him before he was pulling out of your mouth, globs of sweet liquid pouring out of from your lips, clinging to your face and bed. 

 "Fuck, that-" Interrupted, you were grabbed by your bicep, being hauled up and tossed back. Your head hung over the side of the bed, addled brain trying to catch up to your sudden upside-down visual. When you felt weight on top of you, you strained to lift your neck, watching as Nai wrapped his arms around your thighs, tugging you into him. The slide was easy, instant, completely sheathing himself in you with one strong thrust. You wanted to scream, but the position you were in coupled with your throat being fucked raw, all that came out was a pathetic squeak. He grunted, setting a brutal pace, tugging you in time to meet his thrusts by your thighs. You moaned, gasped, sputtered, tried calling to him to slow down, please, but it fell on deaf ears. 

 Completely unexpected was the hand that came down between your legs, thumbing at your clit. That seemed to be enough for you, your mind running blank and seeing stars as he continued to fuck you through your earth shattering orgasm. Your legs seized, muscles spasming and tensing as you felt an unfamiliar wetness between your legs. A deep grunt and growl was immediately followed by a pair of strong hands grabbing at your waist, tugging you up and into him as if you weighed nothing at all. Delirious, mind spent, you could barely register the fact you had thrown your arms over his shoulders, a hand gripping your hip so tight it was certainly going to bruise as he fucked up into you. His other hand grabbed at your cheeks, squeezing and forcing you to look into his piercing gaze. He was beautiful, his eyes, the crease of his brow, the snarl on his lips and his bared teeth, primal and angelic.

 "You're mine," He growled, your mind spinning as you moaned and whimpered for him, "I'll keep you, pet, I'll protect you, but you're mine. Do you understand?"

 Barely able to nod in his grip, you simply swallowed, choking on a raspy yes. 

 "Say my name."

 You didn't think you would be able to, mind hazy and voice weak, but one hard thrust up had your voice punched out. "Nai!" You keened, eyes sliding shut as you felt your second orgasm creeping up on you so soon. "Nai, please I'm go-gonna- cum!"

 The firm grip he had on your face moved back, fisting your hair and pushing your lips up into his as he groaned into your mouth. His cock twitched inside of you, pumping you to the brim with more cum. He never stopped, hips humping up into you through his orgasm, pushing you over the edge on your second, and you were completely devoured by him. 

 Stilling, Nai pulled back, his heaving breaths fanning over your cum and sweat sticky face. His eyes scanned you, and all you could do was stare dumbly in return. Slowly, he lifted you, grunting when his softening cock slid out of you, petals curling and wrapping up to encase him. The slow dribble down your thighs made him huff a seemingly amused exhale, keeping you close in his arms as he laid back on the bed, you on top of him. Nothing was said, only the wind and chirp of bugs outside encasing you in a melody perfect to drift off to. You sighed, adjusting your head so your face was tucked into the crook of his neck. He tensed, but said nothing, so instead you filled the silence. 

 "I'll be yours, Nai. I'll take care of you."

[jeanmoreautemple]

i really love your view on jean. can we get more pls

Aw nonny tysm!

I haven’t even talked that much about him yet, ofc I can talk more. I love doing metas and analysis. But idk where to start, if you want me to talk about something specific please let me now❣️

But I will say that his character is by far one of the best built by Nora. His early name drop and phone call with Kevin in the first book, his gagging first appearance in TRK, his rescue and enrollment with the Trojans in TKM…chef’s kiss.

He made direct appearances only 5 times, but Nora dropped crumbs here and there so well that he ended up quite a fleshed out character.

The way his first mention is him having taught Kevin a whole ass language in a whole ass hell, it immediately said a lot about his character and it became an even more endearing and touching fact as Neil discovered just how ruthless and cruel the ravens were.

I know the fandom over exaggerates his gentleness sometimes (me included) but he really is caring and loving at his core DESPITE it all. Despite having been since his formative years in a cult that promotes harrasing deserters, public humiliation and statutory rape “old tricks”— he still worried for Cody’s safety!

He pays so much close attention because it is part of his survival mechanisms but also because he cares. Nora making him a big brother is TRAGIC.

Anyways thank you nonny for coming. Please come back soon, it can be anything, a question, a ranking request, a statement, a rant… i don’t mind controversial takes either

[bikenesmith]

haven't had much to say for The Death March of X, primarily bc it was mid + ultimately felt like a futile exercise outside resurrection of magneto . but the krakoa finale-funeral pissed me off. im too exhausted by the whole thing to muster emotion about what i and everyone else has discussed ad nauseam for months (corporate interests squashing creative storytelling, frankly insulting attempts at appeasing a mourning audience).

i'd already given up on squeezing any thematic cohesion out of this very slowly sinking ship but i wanted a crumb of cherik reunion, a crumb of old man yaoi, and they couldn't even deliver that!? copy-pasted/adapted from my twitter...

charles sold his soul for an idea he ascribed himself to because he and erik were doing it TOGETHER. but erik "deserted his post" & it all went to shit. yet here erik wrings his hands over choices his absence enabled + is somehow surprised that charles dgaf anymore? ridiculous

the split between krakoa cherik was not just about ideology itself. it was about emotions, and the emotions that krakoa wrought them. the guilt, pain, loss, exhaustion, the unbearable weight of responsibility... but no, please do waste the first pages they've had together in well over a year on erik blandly rehashing Xavier's Dream 2.0/This Is How Xavier's Dream Can Still Win

charles + erik are just people. they are not myths or paragons, no matter how often they pretend otherwise. they are not ideological idols or effigies. they are just flesh + blood — & they are their MOST fleshy + bloody w/ each other. i saw little of that in this issue.

ironically the exchange that seems the most "real" to me also aggravates me the most.

its like erik is on a complete other planet than charles here. how does erik not KNOW that yes, that IS all he has left??? it's a far cry from erik's implicit understanding of charles in x-men: red & resurrection of magneto

erik, who recognized the "no-place in [charles'] heart" long before anyone else did, is surprised to find said no-place swallowing charles up. and does nothing about it.

what did he mean by being "on his way"? on his way to do what? say nothing of substance + let charles lobotomize himself? LMFAO.

(despite dropping the ball on erik as well as erik in relation to charles, we did get some great solo charles moments.... this sums up so much about him perfectly, and also feels very connected to the ROM panel shared earlier. "desperate desire to be loved"....)

anyway i hope for better writing when charles is inevitably broken out of mega-prison and woken up from his mega-coma. that's really all i'm interested in w/ this blatant return to the status quo beyond storm's solo and jean's solo, which actually seem poised to be legitimately groundbreaking for both characters.

[wraithsoutlaws]

TITLE: Perfect Drug CHAPTER ONE: Jawbreaker WORD COUNT: 4,309 PAIRING: Dagger/Dum Dum CW: Light violence, gore mention The story of how two fucked up guys become one fucked up couple.

The sky changed colors in the city. The endless scroll of neon gave it an artificial glow, and from the first moment he crossed the desert line, Dagger had resented it. Nothing looked real. Nothing was–not the food, the music. Certainly not the people. He found himself looking up as he drove further into it’s clutches, searching for a sliver of sky that felt familiar, but the only thing he found was a thinly veiled layer of bullshit.  Northside was different, though no less oppressive. The smokestacks kept the air murky, and no matter how many times he blinked or re-calibrated his optics, he couldn’t quite clear his vision of the red haze that defined it. But unlike Night City, it took pride in it’s own ugly. And he liked that. 

The All Foods factory sat like an icon at the center of it all, more mythical to the locals than even the crumbs of Arasaka littering the district. Dagger stood outside with a cigarette, gazing into it’s shuttered maw. 

A week had passed since he found his way to the building for the first time, toting a severed head in one hand, and a duffel of recovered Militech cargo in the other. He had taken both from a smoldering warzone in Sierra Sonorra where two behemoths fought their last battle; a cadre of Maelstrom gangoons and a unit of corpo dogs. He could have taken the wreckage back for the Wraiths. The gear would have fetched a pretty enny, and the head of a Milietech sergeant would make a lovely hood ornamented for his Quadra–but Dagger never cared for money, and he had plenty of heads already. 

He brought the cargo home to Northside instead, head in hand like a peace offering, still bleeding fresh after decapitation. He wanted a deal, not a payday. Something worth more than a shiny new car, or a pair of genuine leather boots, and after one long blurry fucking night, he got one.  

The Wraiths would protect Maelstrom’s interests in the Badlands and the ‘borgs would give them leverage in the city, pushing to wipe Sixth Street from Santo Domingo. Dagger would move between them, lending his skills to one while extending his power in the other.

In the end, he'd puppet them both.

His mama always said to dream big.

He pressed at a dwindling bruise over his ribcage as he double checked for his smokes in his jacket pocket. Each breath came with a dull ache that hadn’t quite quelled from that night, even a week later. He’d paid his price for admission. He could still feel the wreckage in his bones as he stood at the entrance of the garage, cigarette half smoked already, waiting for an answer at the door. The security camera at the edge of the roof peered down at him, it’s blinking red light a mimic of the trademark optics that were watching him from inside. And they were watching him. Making him wait, though they were the very ones who had set the meet. When he glared up at the lens, he could feel them on the other side.

Another minute passed. He threw his cigarette down, banging a fist to the rusted metal with impatience. After a moment of waiting he considered going around to the intercom, but it felt too much like defeat. He knocked again instead, kicking with a steel tipped boot for good measure and flicking another glare up to the camera. 

The noise must have worked. The door swung open with a growl, sudden enough it nearly took an inch off his nose. Before he could blink, the front end of a revolver shoved itself against the scar on his cheek, forcing his back to the wall with its presence. Seven eyes peered over the muzzle, a shiny chrome scowl beneath them. Dagger’s fist moved on instinct, nestled now against the underside of Dum Dum’s chin where the skin still felt human. The steel claws in the chassis of his hand inched in the sheaths between his knuckles, hungry for a drop of blood. They stood still, entwined in each other’s violence, neither one ready to budge.

“Keep that gun in my face any longer and I’ll get real acquainted with your fleshy bits.” He wasn’t sure which lens he should look at, or which ones were looking at him. His icy gaze settled on the ones that looked most like eyes, though he couldn’t read them. The tip of his claws met skin, just slightly. Enough bite to prove he wasn’t lying.

Dum Dum didn’t sweat it.

“You think your trigger is quicker than mine?”

“Might be fun to find out.”

The sound that came from his throat could have been a laugh. A moment later, Dum Dum drew the gun back and slid it into the waistband of his pants. Slowly, Dagger followed suit, letting his hand fall away with a tinge of disappointment. A click of his tongue.

“Scared?”

“My bullet would rip through your meatpan before your chrome even touched me,” Dum Dum said. He sounded sure, the weight of his optics nearly prying Dagger apart, scanning his hardware in bemusement. He wouldn’t find much, except maybe that his assessment was correct. Which begged the question: why not pull the trigger?

Dagger grinned.

“You gonna invite me inside?” 

Dum Dum didn’t answer, turning a corner toward the street without looking back at him. “Nothing in there for you.”

“Is that right?” Dagger pulled his cigarettes from his jacket and lit one as he followed. A busted up Chevillon was parked on the corner, garish Maelstrom colors splattered across the rusted paint like a badge of honor. Ugly, like everything else around it. He smiled. “Taking me out to pasture then?”

Smoke slithered from his lips as they walked. 

“You wanna play with the big dogs you’re gonna have to work like a bitch.” Dum Dum stopped at the car, and spared him an indecipherable look. “That means you do what I say, when I say it, how I say it. If I tell you to lick the shit off my boots you better fucking get on your knees and do it, yeah? Piss me off and it’s bye bye with a bullet. We’ll sell your meat to the Scavs without a second thought.”

Dagger raised a brow, amusement flickering in his eyes as he took another drag from his smoke. “My god, I think I can see Royce’s hand up your ass using your mouth like a little puppet. Don’t you wanna be a real boy?”

Dum Dum looked tough, but Dagger had seen enough already to know that he folded for the big man as easy as paper. He half expected the gun again, but to his surprise, he only saw a smile on the other man’s face–teeth that looked too human to belong to him. The tension in his shoulders seemed to drop.

“You are one stupid motherfucker.”

He almost sounded impressed.

Dagger stared him down with the same grin, head tilting. Anyone else, he might skin them alive for the assertion but Dum Dum could be useful. No doubt more than any of the other rusted lugnuts lurking in the gang who’d still be more than happy to kill him. If he wanted this to work out, he’d need someone watching his back, and he’d already proved he wouldn’t pull the trigger.

Dum Dum slid into the driver’s seat and gestured for Dagger to go around. He wasn’t thrilled about playing passenger, his own car parked down the block, but he decided not to push it. He didn’t know his way around the city yet, let alone wherever the fuck they were headed. Or why.

He climbed into the Chevillon, choosing to play nice, a decision quickly waning as he waited for an explanation that never came. He blew smoke toward Dum Dum, a juvenile attempt to get his attention as the engine turned over.

“Got a problem, princess?” Dum Dum asked without looking. At least his head didn’t move.

Dagger leaned back in his seat. “Just wondering what the fuck I’m doing here.”

“You’re the one who knocked.”

“Funny.”

The car pulled onto the street. 

“Got a pick-up.” The flat drone of his voice gave away his own annoyance in the silence. “And I wasn’t bullshitting before. Do as you’re told and we won’t have a problem.”

Dagger rolled down his window to vent the smoke from his cigarette. “Pick-up? And here I was hoping for a little fun. Ain’t you lot known for your violence? No offense but thats a waste of my talent and I’m keen to believe it’s a waste of yours too.”

“Royce wants to know you can follow orders. You might be hot shit to those desert dogs but you’re a long way from the top out here.”

Something in the gravel of his tone indicated a warning, but Dagger flicked it off with the ash from his cig. He glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, watching the city blur past the tinted glass. Northside was less colorful than the rest of Night City, all smoke and concrete. In a way, it reminded him of home–the badlands, an endless sprawl of sun bleached dirt, harsh and rigid. Vibrant in its decay. They bore their similarities alright. He could smell fire in the air. A laugh lodged itself in his throat as he finally looked over.

“So that’d make you what, then? The babysitter?”

A grunt. There might have been humor in it. Or a threat.

“You should count yourself lucky. Anyone else prolly woulda shot you by now.”

Dagger didn’t doubt it for a second. Dum Dum was different from the rest, and somehow just the same. He followed orders, and crumbled like soggy paper for the top dog. Out of fear or loyalty, he couldn’t tell yet, but he lacked the self-respect to see that Royce would throw him out as soon as he wasn’t useful. He wondered what might happen if those strings pulled taut. If something sharp happened by to whittle them down. 

Dum Dum’s voice caught him by surprise.

“I’m actually impressed you’re still walking. Didn’t think you’d show up after that beating last week.”

“That right?” Dagger said, casually flipping down the visor ahead of him and examining his face in the two inch mirror. The bruise beneath his eye had faded from plum to a brown rot and for a moment he could feel the impact of the metal punch that knocked him on his ass again. It wasn’t the only one. His body was littered, like the canvas of an old painter–splashes of color hemorrhaging against his skin. He knew there was a cracked rib, probably a concussion, too. A few busted teeth, and more. Welcoming gifts from Maelstrom. It was his own suggestion, a last ditch effort to get close to the gang without having chrome shoved up his ass. An initiation plucked from his smuggling days. Each member got a single hit. If he was still alive by the end of it, he’d get in.

And Dagger always got in, smiling and spitting blood. He’d do it again just to prove that he could. 

“Hell, I thought that left hook from Lars might kill you.” Dum Dum laughed.

Dagger flipped the visor closed. “You kiddin’? My Daddy hit me harder for stealing a cigarette when I was eight years old.”

“You were prolly just a pussy back then.”

A grin cut across his lips as naturally as the sun cresting over the cityscape. “Well, he had a harder swing than you, at least.”

“Makes sense.” The car turned a tight corner and Dum Dum’s head tilted toward him for the first time. “Considerin’ I pulled my punch.”

Dagger met those empty red lenses with a raised brow. “The fuck you did.”

The crack of his own teeth rang out in his ears again, as if that chrome fist was crashing into his face all over. He could still remember his seven eyes watching him as he stumbled back, spitting blood and enamel in his face. He tongued the empty space on his bottom gum where the molar used to sit. Dum Dum had extracted it more seamlessly than the world’s best dentist ever could.

Pulled his punch. 

Dagger scoffed.

Dum Dum didn’t show any sign of humor. His silence said it all.

“And why the fuck would you do that?”

A pause. And then finally a smile.

“‘Cause the harder we hit you, the louder you laughed. Didn't wanna give you the satisfaction.”

Dagger’s face fell, as expressionless as the red lenses in front of him, which seemed now to burn holes through his chest in the silence. He should cut them from his skull, but the feeling passed at the sight of a smile on Dum Dum’s lips.

“Fuckin’ lunatic,” he said, somewhere between affection and dismay.

Dagger took it for a compliment. He grinned, and a bruise sang triumph beneath his skin. 

The car pulled off the street beside a painted wall that looked nearly identical to every other street corner in Northside. Dagger could find his way through every small vein of dusty road across the Badlands with his eyes closed but ask him to distinguish between one block or the next within the industrial sprawl of the district and he’d be lost. He pressed his forehead against the window and looked up. Not even the sky could help him. The shadow of the city all but smothered it. 

Dum Dum cut the engine. 

Wrecked cars littered the crowded alleyway where they sat now, nothing but skeletal remains, picked clean by the vultures. But there was one ahead of them, a black van that stuck out among the rest. The pick-up, if he had to wager.

“What are we waiting for?” he asked, his cigarette almost nothing but ash. He finally flicked it out the window. 

Dum Dum didn’t answer. He studied the van ahead of him in the quiet, and after a moment Dagger pushed his optics to scan it too. Standard. No heat signature inside, though there was something stored in the back, a chemical signature he couldn’t get a specific read on. Drugs, more than likely. Of course it was. He had heard the ‘strommers had their own brand of shit. The kind with enough kick to push past the thirty pounds of chrome in their head. 

“Something the matter with it?” On instinct, Dagger looked in the rearview, scanned the surrounding area. A flash of light flickered somewhere behind them and disappeared. He waited for it to happen again, but he saw nothing. 

“Gadge ain’t here,” Dum Dum said, tone flat. Once more unreadable.

“Taking a leak?”

A grunt. He leaned back in the seat, hand dropping down to the revolver wedged between his seat and the middle console. He flicked his head forward, toward the van. “Well, go on, bitch boy. Check it out.”

Dagger’s eyes narrowed, but he pushed back the urge to tell him to fuck off. He lit another cigarette on the way out. The street was quiet, though somewhere a few blocks down a siren echoed off the smokestacks. He paused when he reached the back of the van, head turning over his shoulder. There was nothing here. Nobody in sight beside those seven glowing eyes behind the glass, and still the hair rose on the back of his neck. 

No Gadge. No blood. No struggle. So why did he have a bad feeling? He focused his attention back to the van as Dum Dum waved a hand at him impatiently. Another quick scan told him the same information before he finally reached for the handle and pulled the bed open. A creak of metal cracked through his ears.

It almost deafened the gunshot.

Dagger ducked, dropping low without thought. His cigarette fell to the ground half burned, mocking him as another bullet riccochetted against the back of the van. His first thought was Dum Dum. Royce had changed his mind on the deal, ordered his execution. A quiet hit didn’t sound like his style, and Dagger was almost disappointed he wouldn’t get to see the ugly bastard one more time just to call him a fucking pussy to his face, but a moment later he could hear the ‘borg’s static voice yelling at him from the car to get the fuck up.

He stayed low, unable to pinpoint the direction of the gunshot, and made his way back to the passenger’s side of the Chevillon.

The engine sputtered to life at the same time as the van in front of him. He crawled inside just in time to witness the driverless van crash through a charred Mackinaw to the next street over.

“Fuck!” Dum Dum yelled, flooring the pedal before Dagger could get his foot pulled in all the way. “Shit’s hacked. Gonk’s don’t know who they’re messing with.” 

He rammed through the same debris as the van but caught a harsh edge of metal, and the Chevillon stalled for a moment before struggling through. The ringing in Dagger’s ears hadn’t stopped, and he only realized his hand was bleeding when he reached for his third smoke. 

“Hack means their close.”

Dagger rolled the window down and stuck his head out, catching the stale air of Northside in a suffocating wind. He could see the van ahead of them like a black smear, but it wasn’t the van he was interested in. Quickhack on a vehicle was useful, but it had drawbacks. One being proximity. Had to be close or you lost connection, even with boosted gear. 

A small Hatchback swung suddenly out from a sidestreet, narrowly missing their car as it sped past. Dum Dum swerved and lost a foot of paint on a fire hydrant in attempt to keep steady. Dagger scanned it as it followed track with the van, spitting chooh2 to catch up. Two signatures inside. A runner.

He ripped the gun from Dum Dum’s seat and pulled himself halfway out the window to take aim. He shot quickly and near blind, bullet lost in the wind as the chase veered left. 

“Fuckin’ shoot steady,” Dum Dum yelled over at him.

“Drive fuckin’ steady,” Dagger snapped, and this time he held his breath as he aimed for the speeding car. A shot came back at him in response and he ducked back into the window before firing again. The windshield spiderwebbed but the car stayed true, zipping through a line of traffic as they headed into a busier part of the district. A horn blared beside him. The hatchback disappeared between two trucks, and Dum Dum struggled on the wheel, crashing into the edge of a turning car and nearly throwing the gun from Dagger's slick, bloody grasp when he shot again.

He couldn’t track where the bullet hit, but he could tell that it missed.

With a growl, Dagger reached over for the wheel.

“Switch me places.” It was a command more than a question, but Dum Dum didn’t protest. He ripped the gun from Dagger’s hand as Dagger pushed his leg over to the gas pedal and shimmied across the seat in an awkward dance, climbing over him without slowing the vehicle until they both settled into their new positions.

Dum Dum took aim as naturally as Dagger did the wheel. He was no stranger to this, or to the electricity running through his chest as he gripped the wheel knuckle tight, grin spreading over his lips.

The tight streets were no match for an open road, but it got his blood pumping all the same. 

He could barely make out the back of the car up ahead, but he could see the rear light explode as Dum Dum fired beside him, leaving red glass sparkling on the pavement like blood. Another shot bellowed, and the hatchback veered wildly, nearly toppling sideways as it made a sharp turn. 

Dagger followed, cutting the same corner with the ease of sharpened steel. He couldn’t see the van further up, but he locked his optics onto the car. Blood splattered the window, and he knew that Dum Dum had hit one of them inside. The engine groaned as he pushed it further. The Chevillon didn’t have the same gumption as his Quadra. He could feel the waiver in her gait, but they were close now. Dum Dum felt it too. He braced his arm on the roof. One good shot is all they’d need.

Dagger seamlessly crossed over the center line, taking the opposite lane to blow past several cars that separated them from their goal. Traffic sped by, so close it rocked the car, but he didn’t flinch.

One. Good. Shot.

Dum Dum fired. 

Blood sprayed the windshield. 

The hatchback veered suddenly into a passing car, which came to a skidding stop, halting the traffic behind it and keeping Dagger from passing back over into the right lane. His mind raced, and on instinct he took a quick left to avoid collision, and then another.

Dum Dum screamed in his ear, but the words were deafened from wind, the ringing, the sirens. Neon lights burned together, flashing against his corneas. 

“Wrong fuckin’ way!” He heard finally.

The streets grew narrower, and then he understood. 

He could smell the ocean. 

 Northside’s warehouses were a shadow in the rearview as they headed toward the bay into Kabuki. Tyger territory. They had crossed the district line. 

Dum Dum reached for the wheel in a last ditch effort to change course. The momentum of the turn threw them upward, tires leaving the ground. The car spun uncontrollably, flipped, crashing through the barricade on the side of the road in a explosion of crunching metal. 

He could see the ocean.

A smear of open blue that could match the sky his heart yearned for. It was beautiful.

Almost.

And it hit like a fucking rock. 

His vision blacked for a moment before the water caved in around them. Slowly, then all at once. He barely had time to take in a lungful of air. Kicking at the door wildly, he swam away from the wreckage as the sea pulled them under. His gaze shot upward, searching once more for the sky to lead him. He followed the light up and up, chest starting to ache, until finally he found it.

Dagger gasped as he breached, shaking water from his eyes. He didn’t recognize the city around him, but he spotted a dock nearby. He swam toward it, then stopped. Looked back. The only remains of the Chevillon were petering bubbles at his back, and smooth water beside that. There wasn’t any sign of Dum Dum. By the look of him, he’d sink as quick as the car.

He glanced between the dock and the bubbles and back again. 

All that fucking chrome…

Walking back to All Foods without the drugs and their sergeant at arms might earn himself a spot in that industrial microwave that Maelstrom liked to boast. Dum Dum was the only one who didn’t want to kill him, after all.

“Fuck.”

He spit water then took another breath and dived.

The car left a trail like ink in the murky water. Dagger clawed toward it, dragging himself further down into the dark depths. Day turned to night. The city was different here, peaceful, and if not for the pounding in his ears, quiet. 

The distant red glare of those eyes shined like a beacon further down. He followed them like the north star, pushing himself to go faster. Dum Dum kicked despite himself, maybe instinct, maybe panic, but his weight worked against him, pulling him down quicker. Dagger pushed harder, reached further. Dum Dum finally noticed him, lenses fixed and unwavering, a calm coming over him as he finally got close enough to grab. Dagger heaved upward, working against the ocean’s cold grasp and the anchor like weight dragging him down. His chest began to burn, and the sky still looked so dark above them. 

He considered letting go, eyes squeezed tight, angry ‘ganic lungs ready to burst. 

And then he could breathe again.

He reached blindly for the dock ladder, trying hard not to heave. Dum Dum climbed up beside him, still as a corpse.

“Fucking gonk shit,” he muttered.

Dagger almost didn’t catch it over the sound of his panting. He laid flat on his back, taking in the welcome blue above him. He could finally see a break in the cityscape, clouds sneaking in at the edge of his vision. 

“Quite a fuckin’ thank you,” Dagger said without taking his eyes from above.

“Oxygen reserves. Could sit down there all day.”

He sat up slowly, running a hand through wet, matted hair. “All the good it’d do you. Be a pile of rust by the time they found you. If they found you.”

Dum Dum laughed. Short, quick static. Somehow it sounded genuine.

“And I’m sure you did that outta the kindness of your heart.”

“What fuckin’ heart?” He said flat, patting down his pockets for his cigarettes. He pulled the pack out, sopping wet. He didn’t bother trying to light one before he tossed them into the bay with a sigh. “Owe me some fucking smokes.”

Dum Dum opened his mouth to speak, but the words never made it. He lifted his head, and though he couldn’t see exactly, Dagger knew he was looking past him. A gun cocked at the back of his head. Cold barrel against his skull. He clenched his jaw, and turned to see a woman he didn’t recognize staring down at him behind glass eyes.

His automatic translator picked up her words better than his ears.

“Welcome to Kabuki, bitch.”

[hotluncheddie]

sorry for two asks I just love your writing and want to hear all your thoughts actually on Steve with a belly big enough that it fully sits in his lap?

steve with a belly that fullly sits in his lap?? anon ur a connoisseur, youre hitting my fucking sweet spots rn i think i need to go run a lap and settle down.

but this steve tho, who’s like, big. he lives in my head. he lives in my head and i wrote him a little here, and he lives there now. and he’s hot and he’s round. and he's big and he lives in my head.

so im gonna keep going... same Steve as linked above, a few months later. back at the buffet.

(This has been half finished in the drafts for so long omg,, we did it boys 😩 we made it 🫶 AWOOOO 🗣)

-

They always get a spread of plates, laying them out on the table between them. Eddie picking at some fries here and a chicken wing there. Dipping a slice of pizza in ranch and having a serving of collard greens. He has his fill, but mostly, he watches.

Watches Steve eat, have everything he wants, smiling at Eddie over the table. He brings Steve whatever he asks for, never pushing or teasing. Just allowing Steve to let himself be insatiable. Letting him know early on that it was okay, to want, to need, to indulge. So now Steve always has as much or as little as he wants. It just happens that Steve’s stomach is a bit of a bottomless pit. He always wants a lot.

Eddie rests his chin on his palm, sighing, enamoured. Steve licks sauce from his fingers and shifts his thighs a little wider under the table. Leaning forward so his stomach presses in, lapping over the edge, white shirt peaking through his plaid shirt buttons. ‘Pressure feel good?’ Eddie asks and Steve nods, cheeks pink, eyes glazed, reaching for the plate of fried shrimp.

Steve had been broad, then thick. His belly taking the brunt once he really started to gain. For so long it was round and firm as it swelled out before him, stretching all his t-shirts and straining all his button-ups.

Now, with the last 20lbs or so, its just started to droop. The softest bottom swell just started to hang, started to teardrop, and fall over the waistband of his jeans when he’s stood. Buttery and squishy and Eddie would often find himself giving it attention, spending an evening resting between Steve’s thighs, head on that new soft part. Mouth roaming.

But it still surges out before him, out from under his soft meaty pecs. Still round, just, getting rounder. Fighting for room between Steve’s thick thighs. sitting heavy and warm atop them, lap always full.

By the time Steve is on desert, spooning the last dregs of the banana split Eddie made him, the remnants of the various cakes they shared (since Eddie has the bigger sweet tooth of the two), all nothing but crumbs - Steve is visibly, achingly full.

And Eddie can’t help but brush his foot against Steve shin, wishing he could peek under the table at Steve’s spread thighs, watch how his belly has to dip between, see how low it sits now. Wishes he could kneel between Steve’s legs, pale and strong, squish his head between and bury his face until he can swallow steve whole. Wishes he could do it for hours, while Steve eats more, wedging himself into the booth.

But those are thoughts for later, when they’re not in public, and Steve is comfortable.

Because he almost does look wedged in, leaning on his forearms, cheeks pink and rosy from all the food. Eyes glassy and breathing a little slow, and little short, his stomach pressing on his lungs.

Eddie needs to simmer it down, Steve is finishing the last of his soda, straw slurping the last few noisy drops.

Steve’s finished. It’s time to go.

‘Ready?’ Eddie asks and Steve nods, leaning back and looking at the ceiling, there’s a light sheen of sweat in his hairline. ‘I’ll go pay, be back in a sec.’

Eddie hops up and walks to the register, paying quickly with a tip and a smile but he’s honestly glad they can go now, he wants to be home, where he can touch his love freely, call him sweet names and hold him close. He’s sick of the table being in the way.

When he gets back, Steve hasn’t moved.

He’s looking down, chin doubling and Eddie wants to bite - suck hickys into Steve’s flesh. One hand is on the top of his belly, which is still pressed against the table, full stomach bloated enough to fill up the whole booth. ‘You getting up Stevie?’ He asks, vibrating a little for the answer.

‘Don’t think, up, is really possible anymore.’ Steve huffs, looking up at Eddie through his lashes.

Eddie gulps. ‘Can I help?’ He asks, voice soft, almost too soft for public.

‘Nah I got it. Just, gonna.’ And Steve grips the table, sliding sideways out of the booth, belly running along the table and determination creasing his brows.

One he reaches the end, after a couple breaks, pauses to breath or resettle his stomach and spread his legs, he shifts one thigh out and twists so he’s more side on. Taking a second to readjust his T-shirt and flannel, so everything is covered again, a fleshy stretch marked hip just starting to peak out now safely tucked away. Steve smiles up at Eddie, wiggles his eyebrows a little, as if to say "you watching?" Before he puts his hands flat on the table and lifts himself up with an audible groan. Finally popping himself out of the booth, standing and leaning back ever so slightly to counteract the weight in his front.

And it’s a weight. Steve looks huge, distended and full, his belly round and firm, bowing out below his pecs. But Eddie’s knows that bottom part is still soft, that there’s always a layer of him now that’s soft and jiggly no matter how much he gluts himself.

Steve settles a big palm over his navel to help relieve the pressure from his back. Stop it getting to jostled as he walks slowly to the door and out to the van.

Steve whines a little, Eddie’s walking way too fast, but he’s exited, exited to get Steve home.

Eddie’s started pointing out that Steve has started to waddle now, thighs rubbing together. It makes Steve blush and shiver a little, his body still changing, getting bigger and heavier and rounder. Eddie watches him now, parking lot blissfully empty, the rubbing of his legs, the curve of his hips, the slowing of his gait. And his belly, swaying side to side with each slow step, heavy and ever-present, his most defining feature.

Eddie opens the car door for him getting there first and bowing deepy. ‘My liege.’ He says, sweetly. Steve rolling his eyes but he’s fighting down a smile as he shuffles the last few paces to the car. ‘Allow me.’ Eddie teases, hands lifting Steve’s belly slightly as he hefts himself into the van, siting heavy and slow, swinging his thick legs in. It kind of helps, Steve has said, even if Eddie know he also thinks it’s ridiculous.

Steve is too full to comment of Eddie’s antics, instead just huffs at him, sinking slowly down into the seat and lifting his belly up gently, making sure it rests out on his thighs comfortably for the ride home. Trying to catch his breath, a sheen of sweat on his brow from the walk.

Eddie always agrees to drive when Steve gluts himself in public. Steve still loves driving, loves the little flush Eddie gets if Steve rests a hand on his thigh as he does. But he just can’t get over the press of the booth as his stomach bloats, the heft of getting himself back out. Belly too big and tight and sending him too floaty to focus on driving home. It’s all too good to pass up.

So Eddie drives. Happily.

Steve reaches for Eddie’s hand, once he gets settled in the drivers seat, smiling sleepily over at him. Eddie smiles back, kissing Steve’s knuckles and dipping forward to kiss the stuffed upper curve that rounds out under Steves pecs.

Steve hums, shifting his thighs as wide as they’ll go, not the most comfortable in the now much smaller van but Eddie watches as he cranks the seat back, giving himself a little more room.

Steve chose a newish flannel and jeans for tonight, ones that would keep him decent and comfortable. The white T-shirt he chose for underneath is definitely not new ish, it’s old ish and was steadily rising over the course of the meal. Which let him tease Eddie by whining at the tightness, pouting on the way to the restaurant, shifting and teasing and flashing skin. Until Eddie couldn’t help but grope at the flesh once they got a red light, growling for Steve to ‘be good.’

The flannel buttons pull just slightly now that Steve’s a little more prone. Meaning his fleshy sides are spilling out over his waistband and the hairy happy trail below his navel is visible between the shirts bottom most V. The skin pink and stretched, revealed again from the short walk.

Steve sighs, resting his head back and blinking sleepily. His hands coming to settle on the steady rise and fall of shelf like belly.

‘Come on then big guy. Let’s head home yeah?’ Eddie asks, sticking the keys in the ignition.

But Steve turns his head, pouting and whining quietly.

Eddie smiles at him, bringing his hand up to cup Steve’s cheek, fingers on his soft pudgy jaw. ‘Ah, I know, I know. You’re my baby aren’t you?’ Eddie says softly watching Steve’s smile bloom small and soft and vulnerable and sweet.

Steve hums again, eyelashes fluttering and he kisses Eddie’s palm once, nodding softly.

‘Gonna take my baby home, take him to bed yeah? Since he ate so well.’ He coos, scratching lightly behind Steve’s ear and pulling away to start the engine and pull out of the lot.

Steve lays his head back flat and wiggles a little to get comfortable again.

His belly hangs pale and wide over the waistband of his jeans. His chubby fingers pressing lightly into the tight top curve, trying to release a little pressure in the mound of food he ate. His eyes stay shut the whole ride home, half asleep but Eddie knows that means he feels safe. And it’s exactly where Eddie wants him, close, near. So Eddie can always keep him safe, let him indulge.

-

Wg enjoyer tag (open): @scoops-aboy86 @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor @tangerinesteve

[officialdaydreamer00]

- Dies irae, dies illa -

"Holy be thy name, God of Warth, God of Fools,

Holy be thy bloody lance, holy be thy flaming tools."

The redheaded high priest knelt, prayinh at the feet of the statue of his beloved god, praying to hear their voice, praying for them to heed his call. Would his God appear before their loyal subject, who sacrificed so much in pursuit of their Grace and in pursuit of being their favorite - blood, riches... his very own heart?

***

"My Little Crimson Priest...

Pray for deliverance.

QUESTION NOT THE FORM IT ARRIVES IN."

(Elysium request: Priest Riddle x God Reader pls <3 Feel free to skip if you want <333)

"The Priest in red, devoted to whom he prays for

Shall learn their benevolence exists no more

The deity who lost, forgotten by time

Shall rise again to the third bell's chime

Witness first hand the lost one's wrath

And bound to forever walk on a crimson path."

pairing: riddle rosehearts x reader

content: it was supposed to be a short drabble ;-; this is a oneshot, reader is vaguely based after the goddess nemesis, mentions of religions and blood, there is probably crumbs of fluff in a sea of possessive behaviours but that's to be expected when dealing with gods, probably ooc riddle, greek mythology

the oracle speaks — genuinely one of the most jaw dropping requests i received (i don't like the ending i wrote hhhhhh)

The Fates cannot save you now. I am sorry, my child.

— the church bell chimed at three o' clock exactly in the afternoon.

riddle still knelt there, in a far corner of a temple, dutifully praying to the lone statue of the god he sworn his loyalty to.

in the midst of a quiet atmosphere, riddle briefly wondered how long he had been kneeling there for. time only seemed to keep passing by whenever he did what he was supposed to do, as per the elders' words.

he recalled the event a few years ago, how he, along with several children around his age, was chosen to be this god's followers. over the years, the number of their followers dropped, significantly so, that only riddle and a devoted priest was left. alas, they, too, left, leaving him all alone in this deserted temple.

riddle was baffled, how could someone just... abandon their god, the one they had sworn utmost loyalty to like that? especially when the god they prayed for favoured absolute balance, wouldn't the injustice left them wither with hatred? wouldn't they punish those who dared leaving them in favour of the others?

as far as riddle knew, regardless of what they represented, they were still a god, and they should have been treated as such. he looked up at their statue, their altar lit with candles and a plate of blood offering— his blood, and on his face gleamed a determined look.

he chanted his prayers, one that he had learned by heart, over and over again. if only his god could give him a chance. a chance to prove himself, his loyalty to them, and only them.

he heard a soft chuckle, and the next thing he knew, arms embraced him from behind. they were wrapped around his torso and over his eyes, like a pair of poisonous snakes, slowly tightening the squeeze as to puncture his lungs had his ribs had cracked from the pressure.

but the thing that finally set him on edge, was their presence. it was so familiar, he swore he had it on the tip of his tongue. but something about that presence was... off.

"my, my... it seems that i still have such a devoted mortal as my subject."

riddle felt his heart dropped. they called him a mortal, as if they themself was not one. the gears were turning as the rest of their words finally weight on him.

it was them.

"y-you're—" he wanted to turn around, to see his beloved god, to bask in their glowing glory. but the restraints that was their arms held him tight in his place.

"now, now, my dear." they chuckled again. "i do not want my precious final follower be burned for his little mistake."

riddle felt a piece of fabric was tied around his eyes. internally, he was a bit miffed that he couldn't see them with his own two eyes, but he would respect their wishes. however, there was a faint metallic smell wafted to his senses, and now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen the old patron priest anywhere, it was dead silent since he came here.

riddle felt himself being picked up and cradled in one's arms. their comforting presence calmed him down, as he let the god carry him as they wanted. he yawned, a sudden wave of drowsiness hit him.

succumbing to a dreamless sleep, he never got to see the soft smile his god had on their face. their eyes, however, held an unsettling emotion.

"I will not let you leave me. My dearest Crimson Priest."

🏷️ @dove-da-birb @identity-theft-101 @cookiesandbiscuits + riddle kissers ig

remember to reblog if you enjoy my works! ^-^

[mxtantrights]

oh, to be in it with you

This is splices of a long work I had drafted up years ago. That being said I tried my best to make it more of a wordy one-shot than an ongoing thing because I just don't think I could return to this original idea, but if you like this then come into my inbox and request something for our Harry Osborn.

Harry Osborn x fem!reader, spidey!reader

PRE SNAP

Sighing, you picked up your phone to answer the call. It was always something with that boy. As soon as you took the call he was speaking. You thinks it's the rich boy complex.

"-ay I know I said I wanted an espresso but I take it back." Harry spoke.

"Oh yeah? What do you want now?" you asks.

"Just a regular black coffee." he says.

"Really?" you asked. But you knew already.

"I'll venmo you for the trouble."

"Please do." you ended the call.

You just earned herself four bucks. You knew he would change his mind. That's how Harry operates. And also he can't handle sugar after ten in the morning.

You carried the two regular coffees in the paper tray and exited the cafe. The trip to MoMA had been canceled due to the weird donut in the sky that appeared not too long ago. No it wasn't normal but the superheroes were on it. They always were.

So while everyone else went home, or wherever, Harry and you stayed together and headed over to the Osborn building. You two were gonna fool around with the lab equipment, maybe make 3d printed donuts. What else was there to do?

The cafe, was located right across the street from the building. 

Harry was looking out the window when it began to happen. The scientists that were in the room with him started disappearing one by one. He didn't catch on until he saw it with his own eyes. What once was an employee was now dust.

You were waiting to cross the street when you heard her phone vibrating in your hand. It was under the coffee tray. You balanced it in one hand and looked at the screen.

Harry. You thinks that he just called, so surely he couldn't have changed his mind again. Maybe he just needs the coffee a bit more than he let on.

Weirdly you picked up the phone. "Harry I'm coming. Calm do-"

"Somethings wrong, everyone is disappearing."

"What ar-" you began to say as a man stepped up next to you, waiting to cross the street too. You looked over to see the man begin to crumble like crumb cake. The dark dust began to get swept up by the wind as you gasped.

"You have to get over here now." Harry pleaded with you on the other side of the line.

"i'm coming, meet me at the front door." you didn't hang up the call.

You dropped the coffees and looked up and down the street. The cars were stopping in the middle of it, people getting out. Dust was becoming everyone. Or everyone was becoming dust.

Carefully you ran across the street over to the building. Looking inside you could faintly see the familiar blonde boy approaching the front door. You began to run to it, to him, at that moment.

When you reached the door- he wasn't there. The faint trail of dust was all you could see. Your heart sank to your feet.

"Holy shi- Harry?!" you shouted to no one in particular.

Your hand grabbed the door handle but you couldn't feel it. You could see your hand begin to turn dark and begin to crumble. It didn't hurt as you fell to the concrete ground. 

It wasn't long before it was your arms then you legs.

Then you.

POST SNAP

The sound of your name is want brings you back.

"Can you hear me? Wake up!" a voice says.

Your ears started to ring as you opened your eyes. You'd recognize that voice anywhere. Harry was in front of you, looking panicked and anxious. You looked around and saw- not your world. This was someplace else.

A deserted waste land. Red dirt, yellow skies. Two suns.

"Harry where the hell are we?" 

"I- I don't know. But there are other people here. I don't think we died. But this is- this is crazy."

"You think this is it?" you asked him, and he knew exactly what you meant.

In a world full of superheroes things were bound to go wrong. Dreadfully wrong. The attack on New York proved to everyone that nothing was out of limits. And now here we are. People turning to dust, waking up in a new world.

Harry shook his head. "No this can't be it. Theres no way- Tony Stark would never let this happen."

"What if it was out of his control? What if it's out of all of our control?" 

After that Harry did he best to calm you. Which included getting you off the floor, compartmentalizing the current catastrophe, trying to joke about his awful dad. And it worked.

For a while. You needed to be alone with your thoughts for a while.

You were walking as your eyes became watery. Osborn was doing what he did best, assembling a group of smart minds to get to the bottom of the situation. Which included you, you was the first mind he thought of actually, but you needed to take a moment.

Your arms were wrapped around herself as you walked in the foreign place. It wasn't like they were in a parallel universe or something. There was just nothing here except the red ground beneath them. There were dried trees with no leaves like the place had only known death. And there were so many people. 

You stopped after a while because you didn't want to get lost from Harry. So you stood underneath a tree, with your back pressed against the root. You thought that your body was actually vibrating from the fear. You held yourself even tighter. 

There were no avengers here. No Tony Stark to save them. You think that something must've happened and it must've been bad. Yo wonders about your parents and whether or not they are here too or if they were back home?

"Ah!" you yelped.

Your hand reached the back of your neck where the sudden pain was. You couldn't feel anything but the back of your neck felt warm. You squinted her eyes and looked up at the tree branches above you but there was nothing.

So you looked down.

And there in the red dirt was a twitching spider. It didn't look real honestly. It was black but on it's back there was a neon blue and purple hour glass. Like it was a cartoon or something. You bent over to get a better look at it but then something happened.

It glitched out of sight. Like when water is poured over a computer and the screen malfunctions. Theres a quick flicker of static and colors. The spider didn't come back.

You reached for the back of your neck again and thought to yourself. You hoped that the spider wasn't poisonous. The whole thought of being infected by a spider just irked you so much that you decided to go back to where Harry was.

You walk over to where he's assembled a group.

He's talking to someone on the side when he sees you. He pats them on the shoulder and makes his way over to you.

"Hey, your head cleared enough?" he asked.

You nodded. "I just wonder where everyone else is." 

Harry holds out his arm and you on instinct places yourself underneath it. He holds you close and rubs your arm. You know that it's in attempt to sooth you and you lets out a breath at the thought that you're with him during the midst of all of it.

"They're gonna save the day, they always do." 

You reach up to feel your neck again.

FIVE YEARS LATER

It happened all at once. One minute you were dozing off in the middle of a conversation with Harry and then everything around you changed. You awakened with a headache. You couldn't forget the whole dust thing and as soon as you remembered you jolted up from your position. 

You are on the floor. The floor of the Oscorp building.

A bunch of people are.

Harry.

You look around for him as you get to her feet. You couldn't help to see that the building looked different. The elevator that you used before was no replaced by a new one. The insides of the labs looked different. 

"Harry! Harry!" you shouted.

It wasn't him that came up to greet you. Instead it was a woman- a woman with a familiar face- that grabbed onto your shoulders. Her expression sad, shocked, a range full of emotions. 

"Oh my god it's you." she said and instantly latched onto you.

You grew confused at who the stranger was that was hugging you. You kept your arms at her sides and still looked for Harry. Until a whiff of perfume snuck up to your nose. The scent of Daisy by Marc Jacobs flooded your nose in an all too familiar way.

You know who wore that perfume? 

Oscorp's resident lab engineer, Melanie Malone. Melanie who had been given the job straight out of college. The same Melanie who's hair was always slicked back into a puff. 

You remove yourself from the woman's embrace to find that the likeliness isn't a coincidence. No.

Here is Melanie Malone. Standing in front of her. With dark circles under her eyes. And her hair grown out significantly. She didn't look like that same college girl who worked here. No she looked like a woman now.

"Melanie how long has it-" you began to ask but Melanie beat you to the punch.

"Five years." she answers.

Your whole body stilled at that. It wasn't long ago for you. It felt like a few hours. It felt like you had taken a nap. A weird nap in a weird place. But just a nap. How can it feel like that for you but for everyone else it's been five years?

Harry's voice cut through your thoughts. He's calling your name.

Your eyes moved franticly throughout the crowd that was forming in the lobby. You could see something moving towards you. Something fast. It didn't take long before you saw the long blonde hair.

Harry stopped when he reached you and Melanie. He stopped because he recognized Melanie- but not like this. 

"They're saying it's been five years- that can't be true right? It didn't feel like that for me. It felt like a couple of hours or something. How can this be possible?" He couldn't stop himself from the fear induced rambling, or his hands from trembling. 

You reached out to take his hands. "It was out of our control."

-

It happens when everyone is at the diner. Well, almost everyone. It's MJ, and Ned on one side. Harry and you on the other. Miles is in the bathroom. The bell to the front entrance rings out and you can see brown curls walking in. You know it's Peter. 

But then the feeling happens. The tingle that shoots from your spine to your head. And you're staring right at him. He's staring right back at you. He stops in the middle of the doorway too. You look away and try to distract yourself.

You gulp down your dry throat, which Harry notices.

"You good honey?" he asks.

And yes you're used to him calling you pet names. It doesn't mean you doesn't blush when he does it. MJ, close to the window now, notices it all the time but she doesn't say anything. 

You nods.

Peter slides in with Ned and MJ. And just as he does Miles is walking back and sliding in with you and Harry. No they didn't understand boundaries sometimes, and it shows. 

"Finally Parker. Anyways, so what are the plans for this weekend?" Miles asks.

"You don't remember? We have our trip to Europe." Ned says, pointing to himself, Peter and MJ.

Harry and Miles sigh while you nod your head. You all go to different schools so it's really weird when one of you has to explain to your families how you met. You remembers having to tell your father the whole story and even he was confused. 

You can feel Peter staring at you every few seconds or so.

"Oh wait I think I have a trip with my father coming up, oscorp business." Harry says.

Miles looks at you. "So it's just us'"

"You follow me around all the time anyways, nothin' new." you say.

Miles lightly shoves you and you shove him back. Then you remember your other plans for the night.

"I can't stay too late guys, I have to meet up with someone else later." you say.

Every head at the table turned. It's not because they all think you doesn't have friends. They know that you are the most friendly and kind person in their lives. However your social interactions are almost always limited to them.

Harry, Miles and MJ specifically.

"Is that so surprising? So mind boggling?" you say to the faces of surprise. 

"Do you have a date or something?" MJ asks.

MJ thinks, fuck it. Now is a great time to get into the whole Harry and you situation. There probably would be a better time, but when has loved sat quietly in the corner and wait for the perfect moment? Never, she thinks. Besides she was actually thinking about her feelings for Peter, and possibly telling him on their school trip.

Your eyes widen a bit. "No! I'm just meeting a friend-we're hanging out? I think?"

Miles laughs. "How do you think? You don't know?"

"Hey hey, she's allowed to have friends besides us," Harry starts and you sends him a small smiles before he continues, "but let's be mindful that I can get you Starbucks everyday."

Everyone at the table laughs at that. 

-

The first time you saw Harry's hands tremble you thought it was from the cold. So you did what any friend would do and took your own gloves off and handed them over. Of course, Harry wouldn't accept. Something about how the plaid pattern didn't match the 'vibes' from his coat. You rolled her eyes and shrugged your shoulders.

Harry never forgot that night. It was from then on he did his best to hide his condition even better. Especially from you, the girl he had fallen in love with several times over.

He tried his best, but you picked up on it from time to time. 

There was the time at the coffee shop when he was holding his black Amex. When he had taken it back from the barista, you could see the card shaking in his hands. He let a small grunt escape from his lips before slipping it into his wallet. 

You clapped his back softly before moving over to the pick-up station. Harry, with ray-bans attached to his face at that point, let out a sigh relief. 

Another appearance was during a study session. The two of you had been going strong for two hours until Harry suddenly wanted to do anything else. Even though you both had exams coming up, he began moving around his own house. Like he had misplaced something that he needed desperately at that very moment. 

The silence on your end was in part because you were watching him. And very subtly, his hands, out of your peripheral. You had been connecting the dots over some time now. How after you offered your gloves that one night, his shaking hands seemed to be a common occurrence. Or that one of them gets coffee for the both of them now. Or that he never hands you anything anymore.

You just laid out your textbook and notes on his coffee table and leaned back on his couch. With your head laid back, you asked if he wanted to order some take-out. His hand was shaking so much he couldn't take notes, you understood.

There was one time that he cannot hide it though. At the school dance- trivial, yeah he knows. He's pointing out that some kids are in the middle of spiking the punch bowl. And his finger is stretched out.

You takes one look at the kids before your eyes linger on his finger. His hand. His shaking hand. And you didn't have the words to speak about it with him, not when he worked so hard to deny it. You know that he doesn't have the words either. So you took his hand and dragged him to the dance floor. Well, the gym floor.

Not in the middle. Just a ways off from where they were on the bleachers. He instantly places his hands on your hips. Your arms reach up and dangle off the end of his shoulders. Harry is looking off to the side with a bit of a smirk.

"Oh don't you say anything Osborn." you say.

He shrugs a bit and looks at you. The heels gave you bit of an advantage that night. Your face is close to his. Not enough that your noses touch. But enough that you could feel his breath warm your cheeks.

"I just think you're trynna woo me a bit. I mean I'm flattered, but it's unneeded. I already write about you in my diary." he said.

You laughed. 

"Just the one?" she asked.

He smiled. 

He pulled her closer to him. The two swayed to the music in the gym. And you swore that he thanked you. Under his breath. Below the bass of a Jason Maraz song. You didn't respond, only squeezed him a bit tighter.

-

(dirty) Harry 

hey so I just got done with this seminar thing

wanna hang?

You snicker and type out a yes and asks for his location. Harry doesn't send it, he wants to know yours. After all he's got the driver. With a roll of your eyes, you drop your location. And you let him know that you'll wait in the bookstore.

Miles had something to do so the two of you wrapped up early. 

You go inside and the bell rings. Harry lets you know his ETA while you browse the store. After starting down the comedy section that is displaying twilight, you make a turn. As soon as you does, Maya sees a woman at the end of the aisle.

Your phone buzzes.

would you hate me if I said something just came up?

You sigh. You're about to type a response when you hear someone clear their throat. You looks up from your phone and it's the same woman. Except now she's closer. 

"Hi, can I just get," she points to the shelf, "in there?" 

You move to the side quickly, "sure, sorry about that."

"Nice jacket by the way. You a fan?" she asks.

You look down. Your jacket has the spider emblem on it. It wasn't really your choice. More like MJ had snuck a pocca pen session on your jacket one time. your phone buzzes again but you turn the screen off.

"Yeah, well he's pretty cool."  you say.

The lady smiles, "Yeah, but you're pretty cool too, aren't you?" 

There are a million alarms ringing in your head. Maybe more. But the bookstore isn't loud. You could scream and someone will hear. You backtrack to the front of the store. Where was the cashier at the front register?

Your phone buzzes.

"Are you the only one in here with me?" you ask.

The woman nods. 

"I don't want to scare you. I just wanted to offer you my card." she says.

She digs into her leather jacker pocket. Out comes a white card. Her hand extends out to you, who is weighting your options. Harry's earlier text buzzes your phone again.

You decide to take the card from her. 

MARIA HILL

xxx-xxxx

When you look up she's gone. And you gets that feeling on the back of her neck. The one you hate feeling. It makes your gut turn and twist. 

You stuff the card into your pocket and unlocks your phone. 

(dirty) Harry

sorry. do you wanna hang out later?

hello??

You press on the phone icon. You pull your phone up to your ear and it starts ringing. He picks up in a few seconds.

"Hey I'm sorry, something really did come up. I didn't mean to bail on you."

"It's fine H, but I think I might have to raincheck you." you answer.

"Ouch."

"Aw, poor baby. You won't believe me but something just came up."

"Uh huh. Well whatever it is, isn't me. So it can't be as amazing." he jokes.

"You're right rich boy. Oh speaking of which when do you leave with your dad for that business trip thing?"

"A few days, after everyone goes on that Europe trip. Why?"

"I was wondering if we could fit in one of our old city trips?" you ask.

"You just want me to use my money to get you into the museum." he says.

"Ah, you know me so well." you laugh.

-

You tucks her phone into your pocket as Harry comes over with churro sticks. He hands one to you while he bits off a mouthful of his own. It makes you look at him in pure concern, because you know that he tends to talk with his mouth full. He calls it resisting the etiquette classes from his childhood.

"Please don't choke on that." you say.

He makes a face, which earns him a smack on the shoulder. Harry holds out his arm and you links it with your own. The two of you begin to walk down the block. It's fairly empty as it's 11am and everyone is either trying to get to work or already there. 

When he finishes off chewing, Harry nudges you a bit with his shoulder. It makes you look up at him, which you often do. It's hard to not look at Harry, he's a pretty boy of course. But as one of a few people who have been up real close to his face, he has freckles. Very faint, but seeable.

"What are you and Miles gonna do with all this free time?" he asks.

You chuckle, "Miles was talking about hanging out with my dad. They've got that bond thing so."

"And you?"

"I'll probably read a book. Or two. And meet up with my friend." you answer.

"Is this friend hotter than me? I meant to ask when you first brought them up, but I figured I should hide my jealousy in front of our other friends." he jokes.

"Yes she is." you answer.

"Damn. I have some competition don't I?" 

You nudge Harry this time as you both end up at the end of the block. At the corner, you two watch two adults with their fingers intertwined and swinging cross the street. You're the one who started looking at them, Harry was looking at you and then followed your line of sight. 

The Osborn knows that one of these days he'll tell you how he feels about you. It wouldn't be a surprise or anything. He flirts with you all the time, and you flirt right back. Harry is just scared that at some point he'll have to share his other secret with you. He knows you knows and you just don't talk about it. But he knows.

So he does the next best thing.

He untangles your arm from his, which makes you look at him. With your focus on him he smiles.

"Can you hold this?" he asks.

You sees his hand formed into a fist and thinks he's talking about his change from the food cart. It wouldn't be the first time he's done this. He liked to make it a habit of letting you 'hold his change' and then he's at home and you're left with a couple of dollars. It's add up so much that you keep a jar at home specifically for him (that he doesn't know about).

You sigh and open your right hand to receive what you think is change.

Harry instead opens his fist and it's empty. He grabs your hand with his and interlocks their fingers. You look at your joined hands, up at him and then back at your hands. You fight back a smile and look dead ahead.

"If you wanted to hold my hand you should've asked."

"Thanks for indulging me anyways."

-

The music from the party blared throughout the apartment. It had to be a high school crossover. Uptown, downtown, midtown. A few kids from upstate and a few from across the turnpike. All packed into two levels of a brownstone. 

Drinks were flowing and snacks were being passed around. At some point someone was handing out caprisuns and it felt like a kindergarten party. Especially when they started shotgunning them.

"Hell I even think someone from Staten Island is here." Harry shouts over the music.

You shake her head, "That doesn't really count." 

You look at each other and share a quick laugh.

The two of you are at a party that only Harry was invited to. It was the night before he left for his trip with his father and he wanted to take the edge off. You knew that he just wanted to pretend for one night that he was normal. So you indulged him. 

You thew on the most festive outfit you had in her closet and met Harry at his place. He had told you to stop doing that, that he could 'send' for you' but you had a thing about using his driver so that was a definite no. 

Harry stood next to you the whole time. He hadn't known anyone personally, but they all seemed to know him. It was normal but it wasn't comfortable as he had put it once to you. Being famous for being the son of someone famous as kinda weird. 

-

The arch that Harry was standing under should have been enough. All the earthquake tips say so. But this wasn't an earthquake. This was an evil man, with alien technology and a point to prove. No one was safe.

You call out, "Harry! Don't move!" 

"If I don't move I'm toast!" he replies.

"Harry-" you begin.

Harry moves. From under the arch he runs to the center of the apartment. The floor has been proven unsteady the moment the fire had started. You weren't sure if it was because the fire had spread to the floor below or not. 

He runs and your perception slows down. It's like someone hit slo-mo on life. And every little detail is for display. The creaking of the floor boards, wood splitting in half. The heat of the fire, the orange glow it has set upon the walls. Harry's eyelashes and his pulsing heartbeat.

It shouldn't happen. It shouldn't be possible. But nothing seems to be impossible anymore. 

Iron man carrying a nuke through a wormhole. Thor, the actual God of Thunder. Sakovia. The Snap. Captain America on the moon.

You reach out- out of fear- to Harry. And his hand is no where near yours, neither is he. You're in one of the corners of the perished living room. He's barely reached the center of it. There should be no way.

But suddenly there is.

You can feel it all at once. It's the goosebumps on your arm. And the tingly feeling. The one you remember from childhood. You used to play with the static on the TV all the time. It was the exact same feeling.

Then his hand is in yours. You can feel it- him. He's shaking. You pull him in, encasing his body in your arms. 

And you do it again. This time, outside of the building. To the safest place you can think of. The pier. 

You let out a breath. Not once did you close your eyes. You were too scared to miss something. Harry did close his eyes though. They opened when he felt the cold breeze and smelt the ocean water. 

"He calls out your name.

He pulls back from you a bit. You're still holding onto him, not letting go. Harry looks around in utter shock. The bench the two of you usually sit at. The street lamp that, by the grace of Loki, is still working after decades. 

"Did I do it- I didn't think I could do it," you start and pulls yourself away from him, "Are you okay? You're not hurt right?" 

You start to examine him. And he's somewhere in-between shocked silence and inappropriate laughing. You cup his face with both hands. He might've lost an eyelash and enhanced a couple of freckles from the flames, but he wasn't hurt. He wasn't hurt.

You exhale.

"You just teleported us out of a fire!" he said.

"I-I know. It's just- I told you not to move Harry! I told you it wasn't safe! Why didn't you listen to me?" you weren't really asking.

Harry takes in a deep breath, "You saved my life."

"I- I saved your life."

-

(dirty) harry 

When I get back from this trip we have to talk about this

it's crazy and insane but we need to talk about it

and thank you again for saving my life

You sent back a message agreeing with Harry and wishing him a safe trip. Then you shut the phone off. Sleeping was going to be rough tonight. How did you save his life exactly? You can't put into words, it's inexplainable. But you could remember the feeling. The static, the fear and hopelessness. 

And then you did something about it.

Is that what you were supposed to do now? Something bad happens and you do something about it? 

You plug your phone into it's charger and rolled onto your back. Staring at the ceiling. It had been weird coming back and your home had been lived in by other people. You had a new room. All of your stuff was given away. There are people in New York that probably have a sweater you cared for dearly. 

The one thing that remained the same was the ceiling. A week after being brought back you recreated the ceiling you used to have in your old room. Glow in the dark stars were your favorite thing growing up. And after the snap it made you feel like not too much had changed.

Your phone buzzes again on the nightstand. You look over at the illuminated screen. You can't tell who it is from this far. You reach out with your arm and grab it.

When your eyes see his contact name you sit up.

(dirty) harry 

I'm at your front door.

"what?" you whisper.

Then it hits you. It's Harry. He's not going to let this go. He's not going to just wait for answers. And he means what he says so he is definitively at your front door.

You get out of bed and throw on a sweater. You open your door quietly as you can and tip-toe to the front door, trying not to wake your parents.

You slowly open the door and peak your head through. There he is. He hasn't even changed out of the clothes he was wearing at the party.

You slip outside and keep the door open a crack.

"Harry? What's going on?" you ask.

He shakes his head, "I don't know it feels like-I just have to say something. I can't just go to bed or go on this trip and not say this to you."

Harry stops for a moment.

You nod your head for him to go on. He lets out a strangled breath. And then you reach out and take his hands into yours.

"Tonight was scary. I mean the scariest feeling I've ever felt because I thought it was over. And not for me, but for you. And if you-if something ever happened to you I wouldn't know how to move on, I wouldn't move on. There is no living without you." he starts.

He raises both of your hands to his mouth and places chaste kisses on the back of your hands. You watch in shock as he does so. How his thumbs brush your knuckles. How close you two are now.

"I have been in love with you for so long it's so annoying. And I needed you to know after you saved my life tonight. I should've said something sooner but I'm saying it now and that's all I've got." he ends.

You forget how to speak. You actually forget the words you've known your whole life and how to use them. He's holding onto you and telling you he is in love with you. He's standing here in front of your house, telling you he's in love with you.

And it's the most Harry Osborn thing you can think of. That his mind was probably running a thousand miles per hour and he couldn't sleep, couldn't leave any of his thoughts for tomorrow. He had to say this now.

"Harry Osborn," you start,

and when you let go of his hands you see him visibly sigh. You hate the look of hurt that flashes across his face. But you know as your hands come up to cup both side of his face that what he's feeling won't last.

"I've been in love with you for a long time too." you say.

He smiles. He actually cracks a smile and then he's chuckling. All of a sudden there is no space between the two of you. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close. Your arms go around him as well.

And in the warmth of Harry Osborn's arms you're glad that spider bit you, so that you could save his life and he could come to your front door and tell you he's in love with you.

-

[angellayercake]

I am curious about eating and then eating

Very curious 👀

Well Oakie!! You, @da-rulah and @adevilyoudo all have unlocked a sneaky peak of Banchetto!!! (although I think two of you may have already seen this 🙃)

This is not from the next chapter Insalata but from Fromagi e Frutta where Terzo and his little chef go on an actual date 💜

NSFW teaser under the read more

'No no you want to pair this one with the fig chutney and the cracker...' you trail off as he pops the cheese and grape into his mouth, his expression souring as he chews. So far he has decided to ignore all the suggestions he had been given, both from you and the ones so enthusiasticly given by the man running the stall. He drops back in his chair with a pout. 

'This is not a good substitute for your cooking cara,' he huffs crossing his arms and furrowing his brow. You have to press your lips together to stifle your laugh unable to help being flattered, but his lack of enjoyment thus far was entirely his own doing. Reaching over the board you carefully chose a slice of bread, smear it with cranberry conserve then a generous slice of brie. His eyes follow you as you finish it with a drizzle of fresh honey. You offer it too him but he doesn't even attempt to take it from you instead leaning down with a smirk taking a large bite directly from your hand. 

'Mmmm,' he lets out that delicious rumbling moan that can feel as much as hear. 'You see this is why I keep you around no? I would never know to do this.'

'You would if you just listened,' he shakes his head as he takes the rest of the bite deliberately sucking the remaining traces of stickiness and crumbs from you fingers. 

'More? Prego?' A man of his age should not be able to twist you around his little finger the way he does, but you are unable to resist the coy pleased look he gives you through his eyelashes. You want to say no and make him feed himself but your will power is in short supply around him at the best of times and he is well aware of that fact. 

'Fine,' you give in with a roll of your eyes which is more for show then put of genuine annoyance but he knows how easily he has won given the shiteating grin that spreads across his face. He props his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands as he waits for you.

'I'm ready for the next bite cuocoina,' he says giving you a sweet but insistant smile so you waste no more time selecting the next option. To contrast completely with the mild and creamy brie you chose a blue cheese, carefully piling it on a cracker with a slice of pear and a walnut. As you bring it closer he opens his mouth waiting for you to feed him.

'Really?' Yet again you find yourself making a token protest as you discover that you may enjoy feeding him as much as you enjoyed cooking for him. He didn't need to know that yet though. 

'It tastes better coming from your fair hands, cara. What can I say?' And so it continues until he has eaten his fill. You work your way through the variety of cheeses, offering him seconds of his favourites or changing flavour combinations where he wasn't so keen, all the while contending with him nipping and sucking and licking at your fingers at every given opportunity. Even though you had begun to build up a tolerance to his teasing and flirting, at least compared to the earlier part of your time with him you were beginning to reach your limits and with every tease felt closer and closer to just begging him to give you something. Almost as if he could tell you were at your breaking point he stopped you with a warm hand coming to rest on your thigh. 

‘May I have my desert now cuocoina?’ he asks fingers already sliding your skirt up your thighs until he can clearly see your underwear and the wet patch there is little point trying to hide. ‘Ah so you do enjoy hand feeding your Papa then.’ He spreads your legs and drops down to his knees so he is eye level with your cunt. ‘After all that fuss.’ He grazes his teeth over your clit, the material of your underwear protecting you but the threat still makes your thighs shake. When he does bite down it’s only on the hem of your underwear as he pulls them off you leaving you entirely bare to him for the first time.  

He just looks at first taking in the mess he has already made of you but in a split second his tongue is every where yet never stopping for long in any of the places you wanted him, needed him. Around and around and over your folds, the most gentle and frustrating suction as he makes little sounds of enjoyment that seem to vibrate through you. But his teasing as you fed him, his sucking and nipping at your fingers had already got you wanting so much more. Giving in you lace your fingers through his hair to guide him to exactly where you want his attention most. But he resists all your attempts, making the frustration inside you build and build. You try another tactic grinding your hips against his face but he pulls away as he presses your hips down onto the chair stopping any further movements from you and forcing a whine from deep in your chest. 

‘Cuocoina, please. I am just trying to properly enjoy my meal.’ He pauses to lick a long stripe, tongue flat and broad to give you as much friction as possible. You can’t breathe, not for a moment the sudden rush of pleasure the only thing your mind can comprehend but as soon as it starts it ends the only thing you can feel are the puffs of his warm breath. 

‘But perhaps you would prefer to feed me this too?’ He positions himself that he is are hair's breadth away from you before his vice like grip on your hips loosens. ‘Move’ he growls and you have to obey. 

[spirit-small]

It's been days since Phoenix has had a proper meal. An office building had seemed like a good place for a borrower to live, at first at least. Unlike a house or apartment building, it would be virtually deserted at night, so as long as he committed to being nocturnal he shouldn't ever be found. And after his last couple encounters with beans, that seemed to be for the best. (Ahem, Larry.)

But of course, the building was not without its share of problems. While the sheer number of people in and out every day meant that he didn't need to worry too much about how much he would take, the food selections tended to be rather... Slim. It's hard to get into a vending machine or refrigerator, after all. So aside from a few granola bar crumbs and the most unloved, stale pieces of bagel he hadn't gotten much to eat lately.

So forgive him for being a little riskier than usual. The desperation and delirium got to him. Sure, he could have waited for the bean to clear out. But that ran the risk of her taking the delicious-smelling food along with her. And her back was turned. And she seemed very distracted. Get in, get out. That was the plan. Now, granted, that’s not a very good plan, and it’s certainly not a very well-thought-out plan, but it might have worked. Maybe.

If he hadn’t been spotted.

Their eyes lock, just for a second. He drops his prize of a single french fry and darts away. To her he’s nothing but a sudden flash of pink, barely noticeable. Though, he supposes, he could stand to be a little less noticeable. A bright pink sweater? He may as well be carrying a big sign that says "BORROWER" with an arrow pointing at him.

“You can have some, if you want.” She knows he’s there. He’d hoped, through some miraculous means, she’d simply move on. But isn’t that just the problem with beans? They can’t help but let their curiosity get them into trouble. Get them entrenched in other people’s affairs. There’s a saying among borrowers, ‘Curiosity gets you killed by a cat.’ 

It’s very literal. They’re a very straightforward people.

“I could always get you something else to eat...” She’s still talking. Doesn’t seem like she’s going to let up at all. Pretending he doesn’t exist doesn’t seem like it’s going to work this time. Nowhere to go, anyway. Trapped here in the corner between a bean and a wall. The choice is clear, as if it were even a choice at all. At least, of all the beans he’d seen since moving into this building, this is the one who had to find him. She seemed nice. A defense attorney, just like Miles always wanted to be. They’re supposed to help people in need. This is who Phoenix had decided he’d reveal himself to if he ever really, desperately needed help, as a last resort.

Phoenix takes a deep breath. He calms his nerves. He has to focus, he can’t show any fear, or any doubt. He steps out into the light, looks up at her (ohnoshe’ssomuchbiggerupclose), and picks a fry up off the counter. He looks her in the eye, her calm smile barely hiding the questions burning beneath the surface. He bites into the fry and sits back against the wall to eat. They stay like that for a minute. Neither one knowing what to say or how to say it. It’s incredibly uncomfortable for the both of them.

“Well... I’ve got some work to do, if you don’t mind...” She steps back and Phoenix feels the first bit of relief since she spotted him.

“O-oh, n-not at all!” Phoenix turns away and takes another bite. The bean smiles at him and returns to her desk across the room. Phoenix continues snacking away, but finds himself looking over at her more and more. Whatever she's working on must be important. She's engrossed in her work and it seems as though her gears are turning something fierce. Phoenix can't help but want to know more.

It's been a long time since he'd dealt with the law in any capacity, but it's still something he's found fascinating. So, once he's had his fill, he makes his way through the walls to come around on the other side, dropping onto the desk next to her. She's so focused on her work, she doesn't even notice him until he speaks up.

"I think you've got enough evidence here to nail the guy." Phoenix rubs his chin and paces along the desk, looking over the papers and whatnot strewn across the desk.

The bean blinks.

She laughs a little bit.

"Is that right?" she's just humoring him. There's no way this little guy knows anything about the law, right?

"Yeah, I mean it. Like, you'd need a reliable witness and some decent testimony, but I think you've really got a case here, from what I can see. Either way, it's clear to me your client's innocent."

"Hmm, I can see why you'd think that, but it's not that simple, I'm afraid."

"Why not?" Phoenix steps onto a photo of a man. "It's obvious this guy did it."

"I know, I'm sure of that, too. But he's not gonna go down that easily. We need something a lot more definitive, little lawyer." She leans back, stretches her arms, and pushes her files off to the side. "So. You got a name, kid? I'm Mia Fey, Attorney at Law." She holds out a finger toward him.

"Uh... Phoenix Wright. Borrower at... Your office." He reaches a hand toward her finger, pausing for a moment before touching it. She puts her thumb up to grasp around his hand and shakes it gently.

"Borrower, hm?"

"Uh... Yep!"

"Well, Phoenix. You seem to know a thing or two about the law. So tell me, how do you think I should proceed on this case?"

"I'm glad you asked! I have a few ideas..."

[cru5h-cascades]

YO THE TRAILER FOR THE SPLATOON 3 DLC DROPPED LES GOOOOOOOOO!

Ight here's a bit of a rundown of the stuff I managed to see during the trailer:

There's gonna be two waves of the DLC: one that lets us go back to INKOPOLIS PLAZA FROM THE FIRST GAME and the second being more story mode related (more on dat in a bit!)

We can access the plaza by using the train station next to Deep Cut's studio.

Inkopolis Plaza gets a bit of a glow up from the first game, better graphics (duh), new characters running some of the shops since Sheldon's in Splatsville and Crusty Sean's doing that tour thingamagig, a Grizzco building gets added into the mix, the battle dojo's now a Shoal building, and we have access to recon with the guide being added to the plaza.

Returning characters! We get to see Annie, Jelonzo, AND DA SQUID SISTERS ARE RUNNING INKOPOLIS NEWS AGAIN!!!

Speaking of the Squid Sisters, they'll be preforming during splatfests again! We're getting a pretty fresh remix of City of Color because of this! LES GOOOOO!

New vendors include some shrip dude named Fred Crumbs (Shrimp Kicks) and two horseshoe crab children named Shelly and Donny (Ammo Knights Classic).

Wave 1 comes out this spring!

Okay, now some wave 2 stuff. There's not a lot since it was just a lil' tease, but here's what I could get out of that small timeframe:

The second wave of the DLC is called "Side Order"

We play as an octoling (Most likely Agent 8? I dunno. Maybe it's just the hair of the player character in the DLC that's making me think that.)

So far it looks like Side Order's taking place in a post apocolyptic Inkopolis Square (see da next bullet point to see what I mean)

Inkopolis Square is deserted and everything's covered in white (not snow). There's a bunch of white coral everywhere and there seems to be no live overthere whatsoever (besides the player chracacter, duh) (oh and that swarm of fish at the end I forgot)

And of course, Off the Hook make their return (of course we knew that already)

The second wave of the DLC's release date is currently unknown.

And there y'all go! Everything that I could piece out from the Splatoon 3 DLC trailer! Says in the description of the trailer that after folks download the DLC they'll get in game currency and tickets to use at Crab-N-Go (the food store in the lobby). Anyways, can't wait to get the DLC! At long last I can finally see the S1 plaza for myself, at least to some extent (I don't own a Wii U)! I might post some theories for the Side Order DLC like what the hell is the white stuff taking over Inkopolis Square, so look out for those! Staaaay fresh!

(link to the trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qpn0UPPvAb8&ab_channel=NintendoofAmerica)

[fyrewalks]

a kiss against the neck which feels more like a bite,  teeth bruising skin -- jake & bob!

The bar is nearly deserted; it's not unexpected given it's a Tuesday evening and Jake had picked something on the edge of town, more likely to be frequented by locals than servicemen. It suits Bob just fine, not that he minds either way, but he doesn't have to ask why Jake chose this over the squad's usual haunts. Those aren't hard dots to connect.

Lazily, he watches Jake sink another ball into the corner pocket, popping a few peanuts in his mouth. Yawning, he brushes a few crumbs from his jeans. It's also a change to not be in uniform at a bar after work, but it's not an unwelcome one. "What," he questions, eyes playfully wide - the picture of innocence. "You're kind of playing this game by yourself." It's true. Bob's decent at pool, you kind of have to be if you want to keep up with any aviator, but he can't hustle it the way he can darts. And Jake clearly has him beat.

Finally, Jake misses. Bob observes the spread and mentally curses whoever decided a game of pool was simply physics and math. While technically true, it had never connected for him. He's still debating the best angle when he feels Jake step up behind him, feels the solid line of heat and muscle. "Jake," Bob warns, but it quickly becomes something of a pleased yelp as teeth sink in where his shoulder meets his neck. He tilts his neck, inviting more.

His lax fingers drop the pool stick, the sudden clatter making him startle. With half a step forward, he spins to lean against the table and stare at Jake. "I think that's considered cheating," he says breathlessly, ignoring the flush to his skin.

[nevadaautospa2]

Beating the Heat: A Guide to Car Detailing in Las Vegas

Las Vegas is a city known for its glitz, glam, and endless sunshine. But that sunshine, while great for poolside lounging, can be brutal on your car's paint and interior. Dust storms, scorching temperatures, and even the occasional desert downpour can wreak havoc on a vehicle's appearance. This is where car detailing las vegas comes to the rescue.

What is Car Detailing?

Car detailing goes beyond a simple car wash. It's a multi-step process designed to restore your car's interior and exterior to a pristine condition. A good detailer will address everything from surface dirt and grime to deeper imperfections like swirl marks and oxidation. Here's a breakdown of the typical detailing process:

Exterior Detail:

Wash: A thorough wash removes loose dirt, dust, and debris. This may involve a high-pressure rinse, hand washing with specialized car wash soap, and wheel cleaning.

Decontamination: Claying removes embedded contaminants like iron deposits and road tar that a regular wash can't handle.

Paint Correction (Optional): This multi-stage process involves polishing the paint to remove minor scratches, swirl marks, and oxidation, restoring the paint's clarity and shine.

Waxing or Coating: A protective layer of wax or ceramic coating is applied to the paint to shield it from future environmental damage and enhance gloss.

Interior Detail:

Vacuuming: A thorough vacuuming removes dirt, dust, and crumbs from carpets, upholstery, and crevices.

Cleaning: Surfaces like the dashboard, door panels, and center console are cleaned with specialized products to remove dust, grime, and stains. Leather seats may receive additional conditioning treatments.

Window Cleaning: Professional window cleaning removes streaks, smudges, and film, ensuring clear visibility.

Benefits of Car Detailing in Las Vegas

A professional car detail offers numerous benefits for Las Vegas car owners:

Enhanced Appearance: A detailed car looks significantly cleaner, shinier, and more attractive.

Protection from the Elements: Las Vegas' harsh sun can damage the paint and interior over time. Detailing with wax or ceramic coating protects the paint from UV rays, while interior cleaning prevents sun damage to the dashboard and upholstery.

Increased Value: A well-maintained car with a clean and protected interior and exterior retains a higher resale value.

Improved Driving Experience: A clean and organized interior creates a more pleasant and comfortable driving environment.

Choosing a Car Detailing Service in Las Vegas

With a plethora of car detailing options in Las Vegas, here are some factors to consider when making your choice:

Services Offered: Detailing services vary in scope. Some offer basic packages focusing on washing and vacuuming, while others provide comprehensive details with paint correction and interior shampooing. Choose a service that meets your specific needs and budget.

Experience and Reputation: Opt for a company with experienced detailers who use high-quality products and techniques. Look for positive customer reviews and recommendations.

Mobile vs. Shop Detailing: Mobile detailers come to your location, while shop detailing requires dropping your car off. Consider your convenience and the extent of the detailing service needed.

Pricing: Get quotes from several detailers and compare their pricing structures. Prices can vary depending on the size and type of vehicle, the services included, and the level of detail desired.

Maintaining Your Shine

Following a professional detail, regular car washes and occasional interior cleaning will help maintain your car's polished look. Consider using high-quality car wash products and parking in shaded areas whenever possible to minimize sun damage.

By investing in car detailing in Las Vegas, you can keep your car looking its best and protected from the city's unique climate. A sparkling car not only enhances your driving experience but also becomes a source of pride, reflecting the vibrant personality of Las Vegas itself.

[poswiecenia]

( 📜 ) RETURNING HOME LATE was unusual but for the reasons why it made sense. frustrating, but as acting grand sage he supposed it couldn't be helped. statistically he got away with leaving the akademiya when he wanted than having to remain there. as he enters his home he frowns at the dim light, especially when the two twins should be home AT THIS STAGE.

his gaze flicks TO THE CLOCK on the wall, double checking the hour 'fore it flicks back TO THE EMPTINESS of the space. the quiet.

THE STRAP OF the bag is slid off his shoulder, removing his shoes at the door as he did so, walking further into the abode. turquoise colored glance finds one of the foxes that had followed khalid home from the desert, sighing as he moves to pick up the kit. fingers run over the fur of the creature, snorting as it licks at his cheek. adorable, even if it was a little disgusting . . his focus moves around the house, noting small things out of place and CRUMBS OF FOOD.

SO, IT SEEMED, that at least one of the twins were home. the sage moves, putting down the fox as he did to khalid's room, taking a guess over which would be home. his deductions turned out correct as with the opening of the door he finds the architect curled up in bed. further investigation left the man recognizing the signs of a depressive episode in THE OTHER ONE.

he lingers AT THE DOOR for a few moments before entering, collecting the bottles of various alcoholic beverages. half his mind wanted to grab the trashcan and drop the bottles to alert the man to his presence but he THOUGHT AGAINST IT.

AS HE PUTS the glass away he comes to sit at the edge of the bed, hand coming to rest on khalid's blanket - covered hip. he gives him a gentle nudge, alerting him that he's here. ❛ TALK TO ME about it. ❜ he doesn't give him the option to deny him - he'd never get to the bottom of WHAT WAS BOTHERING him otherwise.

@cybrvce gets this for khalid from alhaitham.

[hotluncheddie]

Between Steve and Eddie, which do you think would be more likely to be a messy eater vs. surprisingly neat because he worked out that anything he drops or drips on himself doesn't end up in his belly?

oof omg 👹

i think eddie would be surprisingly neat, kind of mechanical with it. like getting into a zone of hand to mouth and back again, just over and over, bringing whatever he can cleanly to his lips.

he'd like to spread his meal and snacks out before him, get comfortable and plow through it. he always has bread rolls handy to sop up sauce, get every last bit, a clean plate always. goes until he's full and stated and hazy. then has a little more - always wants desert. the only thing that might get messy are his fingers, but he dutifully licks those clean, always wants everything inside him.

maybe, sometimes, he lets Steve straddle his hips, or maybe he can only comfortable straddle one thigh, and they play a game. he lets steve feed him but rules are; he as to use a fork or spoon, do it neatly, feed eddie and not spill a thing. Steve has to be a good boy to get a reward, has to be neat, fill eddie up. reward is he can feed eddie desert by hand, because its steves favourite, and he gets to cum - any way he wants. but if he spills a drop or misses a crumb before eddies finished with his meal? no cumming and steve has to sit or kneel and keep his hands to himself while he watched eddie finish his meal and get himself off. has to wait until the next night, when he can try again...

i think steve would relish in the feeling of letting go. i think food and stuffing would be a release, a time to loose himself in the feelings and sensations. which can include the mess, the stains, dripping and smearing food on his face and hands and gut. he likes to fill his mouth to the brim, likes to shove food in and fill his cheeks and eat with his mouth open and then fill it again. stuff in food handful by handful. chug his drink and let it spill out the corners of his mouth, likes to feel it run down his neck and chest. likes to feel cake and brownies squish between his fingers, licking the gooey chunks off his palms, tongue searching between each finger. messy hands roaming his full belly and staining it as they go, leaving streaks and dollops across the whole taught expanse.

and eddie likes to watch him. watch him loose himself, watch him let go. likes to lay the food out for Steve, get him more before he asks. bring him whatever he could possibly want and then some. likes to set Steve up in the kitchen so he can really go for it - food everywhere, more right at hand, moaning in ecstasy. will watch Steve get his clothes all messy, wait until hes stuffed and too hot and trying to escape. will help unwrap Steve lovely full body and then leave him to eat more, help him stuff it down. watch steves cock leak all over himself, belly covered in crumbs and chocolate and debris. eddie likes to watch Steve go, reach his limit and passed, messy and naked on their little kitchen chairs. waits until he panting and sleepy and whining for more, the last little bit, to tip him over the edge. lets Steve finish with ice cream or milkshake or soda or heavy cream. likes to kneel before him and bury steves cock in his throat. lets Steve reach his peak, his precipice, his perfect messy fullness, and then eddie sucks, eddie licks and tastes and brings Steve right over the edge. shuddering and panting and moaning with delight. sometimes down eddies throat, sometimes all over himself - adding to the mess, and sometimes eddie will kiss his release right back into Steve panting mouth, his final taste of the night.

and then eddie will clean Steve up, wipe him down, helps him to bed and let him fall asleep while eddie rubs soothing circles into his full, stretch marked belly, kissing it lovingly and falling asleep curled around it.

wg writing tag list: @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor huhuhu

[slackingsatan]

after the two have been dating a LONG time, Levi is close with Nico’s family (they “love the smoll bean). I can imagine Levi calling Nico’s mother and asking for help on making his favorite dish! (Kimchi, and Spicy rice cakes!).

AAAAAAAA AM SORRY I WAS SO TIRED FROM WORK THAT I FELL ASLEEP OMG IMMA DO DIS.

SO Let’s explain what happened and how’s the relationship with their parents and stuff…

It’s been two years, and both of them are still in the honeymoon stage. There were struggles along the way, but it made them stronger. First struggles that these two-cheese-in-a-cracker-pod had experienced are parent issues. Parents tend to worry a lot when it comes to their children. Levi’s mom is hard to deal with, because her paranoia for her tiny bean is limitless. Her worry grew tenfold when Levi decided to become a surgeon, and then exponentially increased when she heard that her precious tiny boy has a partner. She didn’t care about gender or race, she cared about Levi’s safety above all else. It’s the sole reason Levi lived with his mom for years. Nico proved to Levi’s mom that he’ll make sure that Levi’s safe no matter what; and it took at least a week to convince Mrs. Schmitt that Nico is worthy of her precious son. How you ask, well let’s just say they had to stay with Mrs. Schmitt for that long - and had to reason, maybe bargain, and bond with her. And Mrs. Schmitt’s conclusion is that Nico needs more protecting over Levi, considering that Nico’s kinda dumb at simple things. She’s proud that her son has grown up, and she thought that she’ll be able to protect him until her last dying breath. I guess she’ll leave it up to both of them to protect each other. (OVERPROTECTIVE MOM ALERT)

what made Levi’s mom agree to their relationship

- She has seen Levi as a much more responsible adult around Nico.

- Nico’s dumb at simple things and it reminds her of Levi’s childhood. She laughs it off.

- Nico’s a protective and gentle giant when it comes to her smol bean.

- It’s Levi’s first love. And she gradually understands that this is more than a comic book addiction or DnD sessions. She needs to accept and support him.

- Their relationship reminded her of hers - on how genuine it is, and how warm it feels.

- She made Nico promised that he won’t do anything that’ll hurt Levi.

Then there’s also Nico’s parents. They were skeptical on whether a non-Asian boyfriend would be suitable to Nico. And it’s not that they’re racist or anything, but they want to pass down tradition (because they are expecting Nico to adopt, or to have kids) - and what better way than being with their own kind of people that holds the same values (like family-oriented, parent-child relationships should be valued, etc.) Little do they know that Levi’s values are kinda similar to the Kim family. It’s not really surprising that Nico’s siblings approved of Levi so easily. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s been so long since Nico invited and introduced someone to his family, and the fact that it’s on a festive season like Christmas. (Yes, Levi brought some Hanukkah gelt which the Kim family enjoyed eating with hot cocoa.)

what made Nico’s parents agree to their relationship

- Levi’s much more organized than Nico. And they think it’s an asset to have that in Nico’s life.

- He knows how to cook. Also an asset. (PLUS POINTS FOR MRS. KIM)

- There’s only a few people Nico could talk to because he’s kinda an introvert.

- He’s a Marvel fan (PLUS POINTS FOR MR. KIM)

- At one point, Levi made this cheesy speech about how Nico’s his first love. (WHICH IS KINDA EMBARRASSING) The Kim family couldn’t hide the second-hand embarrassment; but they also felt how strong Levi’s love is for their son.

- He’s kinda traditional (when he brought some Hanukkah gelt, and introduced them about Hanukkah.)

- When the Kims interviewed the tiny bean, they asked about Levi’s family. He told stories about how overprotective his mother is but he still loves her and would take care of her like she took care of him. And also a bit of a tragic story about Levi’s dad. (PLUS POINTS BECAUSE OF FAMILY LOVE)

SO LET’S GO AT LEAST TWO OR A FEW YEARS.

Levi and Mrs. Kim are kinda cooking buddies. When they are left alone, they talk about food. Any cuisine. ANY CUISINE THEY COULD THINK OF. Levi also told the story about the time that he cooked Korean food for the first time in order to cheer up Nico. There were some experiments down the drain but he managed to cook 6 different dishes. Mrs. Kim laughed at the fact that this tiny bean was able to cook a lot of korean dishes that could maybe feed a small village. She later told stories about Nico’s favorite food, which is Korean dumplings and he’ll eat it with Kimchi fried rice. Nico also likes his mom’s Samgyetang. Nothing really special about these dishes, but it’s the way his mom cooks these food that made it special. Levi wanted to learn her cooking style, but she said that it’s best if it’s cooked when Nico’s going through a rough patch.

“… Just call me if that happens, okay?” Mrs. Kim said gently, and with a smile.

“I will.” Levi responded gleefully.

And it did came. Nico was depressed because of a little girl patient of his. She has a high chance of living, but fate has other plans. This girl is ready to rest. But Nico’s not ready to give up… and then her heartbeat stops.

Nico didn’t talk about it for almost a day or two. He didn’t want to worry Levi. But Levi knows that he’s going through something. So he asked Parker about what happened to the surgery, since he assisted. And Parker stated that the little girl, who has a high chance of living this surgery, didn’t make it.

Levi knows that he needs to be there for Nico. And he remembers what Mrs. Kim has said. He called Mrs. Kim for assistance.

“Hi, Mrs. Kim?” Levi uttered.

“Oh hello, Levi! How are you? How’s Nico?” Mrs. Kim said gleefully.

“I’m doing great. But.. u-uhhh..” Levi’s voice gradually filled with worry. “I think I need help in cooking… y’know.. something for Nico.”

“Oh. I understand.” Mrs. Kim said calmly. Levi would never ask for help in cooking, unless it’s something serious. “I’m going there.” Luckily, she’s near Seattle at this time.

“B-but if you’re busy maybe you can just -”

“No, it’s fine Levi! Family comes first.”

“Thank you so much… I-I’ll setup everything before you arrive.”

“No worries. I’ll see you then”

[Phone call ends.]

“Cancel all meetings.” Mrs. Kim asks her secretary. “My sons need me.”

(YES, SHE SAID “MY SONS” WITH AN S)

———-

Levi asked Nico to run some errands for a while. And when Nico finally left, he ran straight to the kitchen to setup and prepare. Mrs. Kim arrived and Levi told her what happened. They bonded and cooked at the same time. Levi did most of the cooking, because Mrs. Kim insisted that she’ll just be the taster for today and tell what needs to be added.

“It smells amazing, Mrs. Kim.” Levi said with his mouth watering.

“Well, you cooked it.” Mrs. Kim responded.

“Which I couldn’t have done alone.”

“Are you trying to flatter me?”

“N-No I was just-”

Mrs. Kim laughs. And so does Levi.

———-

Nico arrived and was a bit tired with the errands that Levi gave him.

“배고파! (baegopa)” Nico sighed, his expression dulled.

“Hun? I just finished.” He really needs a hug right now. Then he smelled something delicious. It smells like home. It smells like he’s in Korea. He rushed towards the kitchen and saw Levi laughing with Mrs. Kim preparing his favorite food.

“Mom? What’s going on?” Nico’s confused.

“Well I thought that I was needed.” Mrs. Kim responded, and pouted a little. “So I brought something from home.”She went towards her son and whispered “He cooked this by himself, I just helped him a little.”

“You deserve a reward, hunky cat lady. Lass uns essen!” Levi said because Nico’s been eyeing the food and his eyes are sparkling. He doesn’t want to torture the hungry giant.

Nico ate with his mom and Levi. They’ve bonded and laughed together. His first few bites actually made him a little teary. It’s home in a dish, and love in every bite. And on that moment, he felt loved, happy, and all his worries started to disappear.