#I did like the originals way back in the day

[ceilidho]

fear of god

There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 10 masterlist

-

Only after incinerating the original samples do you second guess your actions.

Too late by then. By the time it occurs to you that it might’ve been smarter to keep the samples to reference later, they’re already in biohazard bins, autoclaved and in the process of being incinerated, flames dancing behind the glass. 

You can only watch dispassionately. Mistakes made in crisis; you keep yielding to the thin stretch of fear across the vanishing point of your paranoia and hoping you won’t make the same mistake again, only to repeat the same pattern. 

Over lunch in the mess, you bite back your anxiety and ask Gaz to come by the lab in the morning in order to draw another vial of blood. He spreads his legs under the table until his knees taps against yours.

There’s a glint in his eye when he smiles. “Something wrong with the one from yesterday?”

Stare and swallow your pride. “I…accidentally contaminated it. Can you come by?”

“Of course, doctor. Anything for you.”

You grit your teeth to avoid snapping at him in front of everyone else, the mess full for a change. Under the table, you press your knees together until your legs tremble. 

True to his word, Gaz comes by first thing in the morning, perky enough to rub you the wrong way. You slept poorly again though, so it’d be hard to rub you the right way. 

“You look tired, love,” Gaz observes quietly, the paper crinkling under him as he sits himself down on the exam table.

“I am tired.” Your voice is subdued, weary, but somehow the thought of being vulnerable in front of him doesn’t scare you the way it once did. Your dynamic these days is an interesting one. Two people in on the same secret. It makes you feel almost close to him in a way, a shared intimacy that doesn’t extend to the rest of the crew. 

“Didn’t get enough sleep?” he asks.

“No, I—” 

A man stands at the end of a long corridor, shrouded in darkness.

You are powerless to stop him unless he wants to be stopped.

He is coming for you. He is holding out his hand and waiting for you to take it.

You rub your forehead where it aches. “No. Not enough.”

Hadir follows not long after, the door sliding shut behind him as you prep the syringe. You don’t respond when he says good morning, not in the mood for pleasantries or conversation with everything else going on. It’s hard to feel up to being friendly when this whole situation feels like a thinly veiled attempt to monitor you, like you’re the untrustworthy one when two feet away, Gaz sits with a serene smile on his face and twiddles his thumbs. 

There’s a small pleasure in plunging a needle into his vein again, but you’re not cruel enough to try and make it hurt. You’re not even sure if you could. 

He doesn’t so much as wince. 

You’re much more efficient about it with Hadir hovering over your shoulder, immediately transferring Gaz’s blood into capillary tubes after drawing it from him and flitting to the other side of the room to place the tubes into the centrifuge. It’s not a long wait—ten minutes tops—but you spend it hunched over the centrifuge. On the other side of the room, Gaz and Hadir chit chat like nothing’s wrong. 

The second the centrifuge beeps, you pop the lid and remove the tubes. Perfectly separated; no different than the day before. You repeat the same steps as Hadir watches, pipetting the supernatant fluid into a new test tube and preparing the slides, shoulders tense the whole time. Waiting for him to stop and correct you. 

It never comes—as it shouldn’t. You may not be above question, but you’re good at your job. You wouldn’t have messed up something as simple as a blood test of all things.

Then, you sit down in front of the microscope. 

Something in your gut tells you what’s going to happen before it does. You slip the slide under the microscope and lean forward into the eyepiece only to find perfectly normal red blood cells. No strange wandering cells bending into confounding shapes. Just erythrocytes sitting peacefully on the blood smear slide, not overlapping and not too widely spread apart.

You look over at Gaz when Hadir takes your place, the man still sitting on the examination table as if waiting for your permission to leave. The smile on his face is as placid as ever, almost affectionate. You’d almost believe it too, if you didn’t know any better. 

Why are you doing this? You wish you could just ask him outright. It borders on the cruel. Like a humiliation ritual, the both of you knowing that the blood cells under the microscope aren’t what they seem. Why are you putting me through this?

His eyes twinkle. Because I can, they say. 

It doesn’t take Hadir very long to come to the same conclusion as you. 

“Looks all good to me,” Hadir pronounces, smiling brightly when he pulls away from the eyepiece. “See, doc? Yesterday’s must’ve been a fluke.”

You nod instead of answering. It seems trivial to respond with words; nothing you could say would express the deep well opening up inside of you, the ever widening gap between you and the reality you once took for granted. All you can do is sit there in silence as the two of them leave together.

That seemingly no one aside from you can seem to articulate or even comprehend the magnitude of the situation at hand is starting to get to you. 

Deep within every quiet corner of the universe lie the seeds of destruction; a throbbing, cancerous heart. There’s no epiphany there though, no revelation or moment of enlightenment to shock you to your core—you know that life and death are inextricably intertwined, an egg nesting within another egg. Supermassive black holes at the centre of galaxies. Figs and wasps. Beginnings and endings.

Now one is knocking at your door, asking to come in.

The day severs itself into two when Farah finds you making a cup of tea in the galley. Your guard is already up when the door slides open and she marches in, so geared up to be scolded that you flinch at the sound of the door sliding shut. 

“We need to talk,” Farah says. Her tone brooks no argument. You’ve been dreading this confrontation, but you aren’t particularly shocked by its arrival. News travels fast in confined spaces; gossip faster. You knew from the second that you got Hadir involved after promising that you wouldn’t share your misgivings about Gaz with anyone other than Farah that this would be coming.

“Now?”

“If you’re not busy.”

You’re not and you know she knows that, so instead of arguing you just nod and pour your tea down the sink, following her out of the galley.

She steers you down a hallway away from the main corridor that leads towards the brig and several supply rooms. At the end of the hall, the brig just around the bend behind her, Farah stops and turns to face you, arms across her chest. Her face is set in a stern cast. 

“Why did you ask Hadir to help you with a blood test? He’s not the ship’s medic.”

That being her first question does come as a surprise. You’d assumed she’d immediately tear into you about involving Hadir in your arrangement, not interrogate you about leaning on another crew member for advice and support. 

“I didn’t ask him to. He volunteered.”

“Why did he volunteer?”

“I…thought there was something wrong with Gaz’s blood sample from the other day. I asked him if he could confirm if there was something wrong. I just needed a second pair of eyes.”

A terrible idea in retrospect. You should’ve anticipated Hadir’s reaction and the subsequent fallout. 

“He told me about what you said yesterday. About Gaz. Do I need to be concerned?”

“Well, I am concerned about Gaz. If you’d seen his blood the other day—”

“I mean concerned about you.”

You blink, floored. “Concerned about me?” you ask in bewilderment. “What did I do?” 

“You told Hadir that you didn’t think Gaz was human. How is anyone supposed to take that? You might not like him, but he's part of the crew now, and insinuating that about someone on the crew is—”

“Wait, wait—I’m sorry I got Hadir involved when I said I wouldn’t, but—I thought when you said you’d keep an eye on Gaz that it meant you…had similar suspicions.”

She looks at you strangely. “I never promised to keep an eye on Gaz. What are you talking about?”

Her response leaves you at a loss for words. Suddenly and acutely aware that you have been having two separate conversations—you assuming that Farah’s frustration stemmed from involving her brother when she previously asked you not to, and her assuming something entirely different. 

“Yes, we did,” you insist. “You told me the other day that you would as long as—”

Something moves in the shadows. 

Your eyes flick towards it instinctively. Then your body goes rigid.

A slender, dark eyed woman watches you from the end of the hall, her lips tilted up in an enigmatic grin. Half-shrouded in shadow, you notice her only because you catch her moving in your peripheral vision when she shifts her weight to one leg. You notice first the familiar stripped headscarf wrapped around her head. Then, the smaller details of her face—full eyebrows and aquiline nose, the soft rounded corners of her jaw pulled tight with her smile. 

“Doctor?” the Farah in front of you asks. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, blood pressure spiking. 

The other woman takes a step into the light. It’s Farah in shape and appearance, but there’s something off about it. Like you’re aware now of something intrinsically lesser about it when shown in opposition to the real thing. 

The Farah in front of you frowns, concerned at your sudden silence. You’re aware now of how much more solid she is, real as a gut punch. Real as grass beneath your feet back on Earth or the heat of the sun on your face, all dulled out in space.

“Did we talk the other day?” you ask. “The other day—after the navigation system was fixed?”

And her eyes say it before her lips do. 

“We haven’t spoken in days. I stayed back to help Alex after that meeting.”

Cold reality flashes briefly before you: hollow voices and replicas. What have your eyes been seeing? Reality laps against the smoothened rocks of your mind. Do you know what’s happening to you?

Can you trust what’s really in front of you?

The thing behind Farah wearing her face approaches without sound, coming closer and closer until it stands right beside her, mirroring her stance, its face screwing itself into a similarly serious expression. Double vision. Your vision is blurry around the edges, fear making you tremble something fierce. 

You keep waiting for Farah to notice it standing right beside her, for her to suddenly turn her head and see it there, but she doesn’t. She stares at you with mounting concern. 

And then you blink, the two versions blurring and then overlapping. 

Your throat makes a sound like a whimper. You take a step back, the metal clang of your boot against the floor jarring in the silence. 

“I have to go,” you whisper, the blood draining from your face, your lips almost numb.  

She calls after you when you turn around, hurrying back down the hall whence you came, but you don’t stop, breaking into a run when you hear Farah come after you.

Rat in a maze. Mouse in a trap. You scurry down corridors knowing that there’s no place to run to. At every point, there is a wall past which you cannot go. Hauntingly familiar twists and turns, everything saturated with the memory of itself, the same walls you’ve seen innumerable times. The ship fills with low creaks and hollow sounds, cramped quarters and over familiarity to the point of suffocation. 

And then the nothingness that waits for you right outside the ship. Billions upon billions of miles of dark emptiness surrounding you, only occasionally interrupted by pockets of cold clouds of gas, even more seldomly coming together in precisely the right way for a star or planet to be born. 

Set in contrast with the vast infinity just beyond your walls, the ship feels impossibly small. A tiny speck floating through the cosmos. 

You wish you could wrench a window open and climb out of it. 

You can feel it swell up in your chest at first, bigger and bigger, stretching you around its immensity. Suddenly unable to take in a full breath, your chest too tight for your lungs to fill. Your body is somewhere else behind you, on a ship drifting through space, no certainty that you’ll ever return home. Earth is so far away—tens of millions of miles away from you and no way to get back. 

There’s a hand on your nape suddenly. 

“Hey,” a low voice murmurs. “Are you alright, love?” 

You don’t answer, heaving for breath. Chest collapsing in on itself. A dying star; tiny, tiny light flickering in and out of existence. Hands sweating profusely. Heart hammering against your chest so hard it hurts. 

“I’m with you, love—I’m not going anywhere.”

The voice murmurs low in your ear again, susurrus but too far away for you to make out. Then, a hand on your low back guiding you away, tucking you into a soft, warm place. You go with it. Dark. No blinding artificial lights blinding you. 

“C’mon, breathe with me,” the voice guides you. “Deep breaths. In, out, in, out—”

You follow their instructions, taking in a shaky breath and holding before expelling it. 

“There you go—that’s good,” he praises softly.

The come down is rough. All that adrenaline dumping straight out of you, heart still lurching in your chest. You’ve never had a panic attack before, but you know what to expect in the aftermath and it doesn’t disappoint. You might as well have been hit by a truck for how much your body aches. 

When you finally have the wherewithal to look around and take stock of the situation, you notice that you’re in someone else’s quarters, the lights dimmed until only a sliver of light penetrates through the dark. It’s one of the smaller rooms, no porthole to gaze out through into the blackness of space—only a cot and a folding table mounted into the wall. 

Crouched in front of you, your limp hands held in his while his thumbs rub soothing circles on the backs of your hands, is Gaz. 

Your horror is a beast on the periphery of your consciousness. Too depleted for it to overwhelm you. But you feel it balloon in your chest even though it doesn’t have the strength to move you. 

“Love, listen—shh, no, no, no,” Gaz shushes you when you try to cry out. “No, enough, you need to calm down. Just let me speak, alright?” 

He shuffles closer to you until he looms over you, your knees spread wide to accommodate him. You get a better sense of his true size from this angle, the man composed of solid, compact muscle, his narrow waist deceptive, giving him a leaner appearance from afar than up close. You know now how much room he can take up when he wants to. 

“None of this is your fault,” he says. He shifts, releasing your hands to cup your elbows instead, smoothing his hands up your arms. “You’ve worked so hard to show them the truth, but they just don’t want to see.”

“It’s—they can’t see because of you—” you croak. 

Gaz shakes his head. “No, no. If they wanted to, they’d see through it. Like you have.”

“No—you’re doing something to me.” 

His lips flick up into a smile. “Doing something?”

“You’re making me see things that aren’t there,” you whisper, shrinking into yourself. “I don’t even know what’s fucking real anymore—you’re scaring me.”

Even this close, you smell nothing. No heat emanates from his body or breath puffs from his lungs. It’s like a monolith looms over you, staring down at you through eyes that you can see but cannot comprehend. For all intents and purposes, he looks like a man. But he is not; he is something altogether different. 

A habitation of otherness smiling down at your unraveling interiority.

“I can make them believe you. I can help them see it with their own eyes. Would you like that, love?”

He says it with so much tenderness, stroking the backs of his knuckles over your cheek. 

“What do you mean?” you ask.

He doesn’t answer at first. You’re stuck gazing into his eyes. 

“What I mean,” he says, leaning in until his words are all you can hear. “Is that I can take away every shadow of doubt from their minds until all that’s left is the cold clarity of certitude. Show them what I’ve shown you.”

Gaz cups your face in both hands, fingers spread wide over your cheeks and neck, drawing you in until your lips brush against his. Softer than you expected, with a touch of texture. You don’t know what to think of him anymore, whether it’s your lips touching his now or whether this is all happening in your head. 

Then your lips part and he sighs into your mouth. His lips glide over yours, tenderer than you expected. Soft and wet; silky. Warmth spreads across your chest, everything suddenly concentrated on his kiss. It deepens almost naturally, your hands lifting to fist in the collar of his shirt and drag him closer to you, exhaling harshly into his mouth when you pull back to breathe, only to fall back into him again. Mouth tasting of something you can’t put your finger on; almost ambrosial. 

Is this what he’s wanted this whole time? The thought vanishes as soon as it comes. You’re a ball on a tether swinging in circles, a small planet orbiting this sun. And you’re slowly, but surely, sinking into him, gravity pulling you so close that you can feel the heat of flames against your cheeks. 

He breaks the kiss and your eyes flutter open to find him staring back at you through half-lidded eyes. “Well?”

“Please.”

Gaz smiles against your lips.

[thejujvtsupost]

It’s Always Been You

🍎F!reader, pet names: (pip/squeak, my girl, sweetheart,) suggestive but not smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, brief miscommunication and lots of groveling but it works out.🍎

Notes: I struggle with editing. This is totally separate from canon bc I’m heartbroken. It’s also my first lads fic, I’ll ALWAYS be a Sylus girlie but Caleb broke my brain for a minute 😭

Caleb joining the DAA wasn’t the problem at hand…No, it was the fact that you were going to be separated. Spending his last night before he leaves wrapped around each other like you always did when things were tough was the best comfort you could get.

“I’m gonna miss you so much, do you really have to go?” This was going to be the longest you’ve ever been apart since you were kids, and even worse, he wasn’t allowed to have his phone.

This wasn’t any easier on him but he couldn’t just back out. “I’ll be home before you know it, don’t worry too much.” Caleb brushed the hair from your eyes and held you closer, “plus, you get to have six months free of my constant nagging.”

That was absolutely the wrong thing to say, the tears you were holding back finally fell. Your hands that were originally wrapped around his waist were now at his chest, between your bodies and fisted tightly in his shirt. “But I love you and your nagging!” You inhaled like you were suffocating. Perhaps you were, under the weight of his impending absence.

“Shh I know, I love you and being a pain in your ass.” That earned him a wet chuckle. “I swear, as soon as I’m home I’ll fulfill my promise and I won’t leave your side. You’ll never have to worry again, about anything.” A soft kiss to your temple solidified his vow.

It took you a few long moments before you were able to get in a proper breath and process what he said. “You made a promise?”

“Don’t remember? Hm that won’t do. Think back to when you were 18, and that boy you had a crush on rejected you and broke your heart.”

“I’d prefer not to remember that, actually.”

“But remember after? When you still hadn’t come home by dinner and I found you alone at the park?” Large hands ran down the length of your back to help soothe you while he spoke.

You’re still lost but it’s coming back to you. Confessing to your crush in the park was supposed to be perfect— except he not only rejected you, but he made fun of you. You could respect rejection, but the way he humiliated you and made a scene wasn’t something you wanted to think about. “That day was awful.”

“You were so upset. I wanted to beat him to a pulp but you didn’t want to be alone. Remember what I told you? The pinky promise we made? It’s only been four years you know, I’d hope your memory isn’t that bad yet.”

The moment flooded you then with a gasp, ‘You’ll never be alone as long as I live sweetheart, and when it’s time, when I finally graduate and become a pilot, I swear I’ll marry you myself to prove it.’ And at the time it made you giggle, because surely he was just joking to cheer you up, right? “You meant it?”

Caleb chuckled and lifted your chin to look at you directly, “of course I did, it’s always been you and me. Don’t you know that?”

A fresh wave of tears formed as you surged forward to meet his lips with yours- and stopped out of embarrassment before you could make contact. “Sorry, I didn’t- I think I’m just being emotional—”

But the space between you closed once again and before you could overthink it, Caleb was kissing you the way he’s wanted to for years. His lips were all consuming and tender. His palm cupped your face like it was glass and you couldn’t resist running your fingers through his hair. Kissing Caleb felt like home, like everything was right.

He tried to break away to bring you both air but you refused to let him, instead pulling him closer and closer until he was on top of you, spreading your legs to accommodate his size. “Slow- slow down, you still need oxygen.” You shook when he started dragging his kisses down your throat, letting out soft moans when gentle sucks were left behind.

“C-Caleb…”

He pulled back and grew tense as if he was afraid he scared you away, ���what’s wrong, you tired?” He was trying to give you an out if you wanted it.

You were certain your cheeks were flushed, you shook your head. “I want… more…”

Caleb groaned and buried his face in your neck “you’re killing me, Pip.”

Had you said something wrong? “Sorry- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable… I’ll just-” you loosened your arms from around him, thinking you somehow embarrassed yourself yet again.

He stopped you. “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. You’re killing me because you have no idea how badly I want you; how long I’ve wanted you.”

“Really?” Having someone like Caleb love you was the best feeling, but him being attracted to you left you wanting him even more.

Deciding to just show you, he ground his hips into yours. And god, it felt good against you. Just that little bit of contact felt better than anything you ever achieved on your own. “You’re-” hard went unsaid. He grunted when you spread your legs wider for him. “Yeah, I am. And if you want me, then you have me. But you can’t take it back, so if you’re not ready for that commitment…”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“This really isn’t the time for that—”

“Shut up, it’s important.” He sighed and let you continue. Your arms dropped from his neck to hold his face in your hands, brushing the stray hairs from his face. “That guy I had a crush on? I only liked him so much because he reminded me of you. So I’m yours, too. If you want me, then you can take me.”

Words were lost on him so actions took hold, “are you sure?” His kisses resumed their path after meeting your lips, the room grew hotter with each new brush against your skin.

“I trust you, Caleb,” you had no idea your neck was so sensitive, your gasps talking for you. “but I should let you know I’ve never done this before.”

“I’d kill anyone who ever touched you if you had”

“Isn’t that hypocritical? Should I hunt down your past lovers?” You worked his shirt over his head, the dog tag necklace you gave him mere hours ago dangled in front of your face.

He chuckled and discarded your top, your sleep shorts were next. “It’s funny how you think I’d ever want someone that isn’t you.” His revelation hit you full force: he loves you so deeply, there’s truly no doubt to have. “I’d never do this with anyone else.”

Two things happened that night: your bond was solidified, and unbeknownst to you, a life was created

The goodbye was brutal the next day, already missing him terribly before night fell again.

You managed to fall into a routine, though. You would go to work, occasionally spend time with friends— Tara spent the night with you at least once a week to keep your mind off of things; and the days she didn’t you laid in bed desperately wishing he would be by your side.

Your routine was solid, until a month into your separation when you were sick almost every single day. You were fed up by the time a week passed and the day after that you made your way to visit Zayne- who congratulated you because in his words, ‘he and his wife were expecting as well, perhaps they’ll be friends, too.’ Finding out you were pregnant without Caleb with you was difficult, there wasn’t a way to reach him and share the news.

But you weren’t alone anymore. You spent the time you felt lonely talking to your baby now, who definitely couldn’t hear you yet but that didn’t matter. You were kept company with a perfect blend of you and your Caleb.

According to the official statement released last week Caleb would be home any time today, any minute, any second.

The anticipation left butterflies in your tummy, your baby moving with your nerves. It didn’t occur to you that he might not be happy to be a father, that you might’ve been presumptuous that he’d be ready to care for another life so soon.

And when the door flew open, as much as you wanted to jump into his arms (carefully, of course,) you held your breath and waited for him to notice. And of course, because he was your Caleb, it was right away. His happiness and relief fell away to shock and— was that anger? You didn’t expect anger…

“Welcome home, I—”

“Who else has been here?”

“What? I mean Tara has been keeping me company a few times a week but that’s it.”

“What man has been in our home, pipsqueak.” He didn’t phrase it as a question, just a demand. He’s never been so terse with you…

His tone made you anxious, “No one, other than Zayne and his wife for dinner occasionally— Caleb what are you talking about?”

Caleb dropped his bag on the floor with a thud, still not moving from his spot. “I’m talking about the fact that I came home after six months and you didn’t seem to miss me at all, nothing like the way I missed you. How else would you be pregnant? So who is he? Someone from the Hunters Association?”

Oh… he thought… “Oh my god how could you think- I’d never cheat on you Caleb— EVER how could you even think—”

“Well, I certainly couldn’t have knocked you up in the time I’ve been away.”

A knife cut through you at his words, the accusation, the betrayal of thinking you’d ever be with anyone else. And how vulgar it was… Did your first time mean so little? Was it something he just wanted to get out of the way before he left? A sob escaped you, tears spilled over. “You’re an asshole, Caleb.”

His eyes went wide, “I’m the asshole here?”

“Yes! You’re a fucking asshole! I expected you to be shocked but accusing me of cheating on you? Thinking that night was nothing? That’s low. I can’t believe you!”

“That night means everything to me!”

“Ask me how far along I am! Go on, fucking ask!”

That stopped him short, “you mean?”

“SIX MONTHS!” Standing there while he dropped to his knees was barely satisfying. “God I can’t stand you right now! You must’ve lost your damn mind and all your common sense!”

His silence was angering you further, stomping off to the kitchen for a drink of water and trying to calm down was a better use of your time; crying from this much stress wasn’t good for you.

Once he gathered himself he followed you, “Sweetheart… you’re telling me that night…”

“Finally used your brain, did you?”

“I’m so, god I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” His hand reached out to bring you in for a hug but you denied him.

“Do. Not. Touch me.” His audacity made you seethe. No way were you going to give in so easily no matter how much you desired to be in his embrace and reassured.

“Sweetheart—”

“You’re sleeping on the couch. We can decide what to do later.”

His emotions began to overflow, the guilt crushing him; the ring in his pocket practically burning into his flesh. “Decide what?”

“Decide if I should even let you stay.” Your throat felt tight but you continued to hold your sobs back. “Your dinner is in the oven by the way, it’s your favorite so I suggest you don’t let it burn.”

A few hours rolled around before he couldn’t hold himself back anymore hearing your sniffles. You hadn’t eaten dinner, who knows if you had any water, and no matter how (rightfully) mad you were, you still needed to eat.

Grabbing a few of your favorite snacks with a glass of juice instead of the untouched dinner he put in the fridge was his safest option, unsure if seeing the meal would upset you further.

“Pip squeak? I know you’re awake.” Crouching by your side of the bed and setting the snacks on the nightstand, “please talk to me?”

“Go away.”

“You know I can’t do that, you have to eat something.”

You poked your head from the blanket, “oh so you care now that you know it’s yours?”

The jab was deserved but it still earned a wince. “I’d still care even if they weren’t.”

“How noble of you. Sticking around to raise a kid that’s not yours before I even have a ring.”

“Who said I didn’t have a ring?” This time you accepted the comfort of his hand brushing your hair behind your ear and gently cupping your cheek.

Curiosity was a bitch, but you weren’t ready to forgive him yet. “You were really mean.”

“I know, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. So sorry. I can’t imagine you being with anyone else but I didn’t expect to come home to a family either— and I’m beyond happy to be a dad. It’s not an excuse though, never okay to talk to you like that.”

A few leftover sniffles came before he pulled a tissue from the box on your nightstand, opting to dry your tears himself. “Blow,” He said, holding the tissue to help you blow your nose; then offering you the straw of the juice so you could hydrate.

“I missed you so much, I thought you’d still be happy to see me.”

“I’m over the moon, actually. But I hurt my girl, gotta make things right. Think you can forgive me? I’ll earn it forever.”

“Caleb if you ever, I mean ever, speak to me like that again I won’t hesitate to let you talk to the front door. You’ll be out.”

“I’ll cut my tongue out myself.”

“So dramatic as always.” You rolled your eyes, “you mentioned a ring?”

A smile lifted the corner of his mouth, “there’s my girl. You sure you still want it? Or should I earn it first?” He dug into his pants pocket to show you anyway.

“It wouldn’t hurt your efforts.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle fully before presenting the velvet box to you, “I’m pretty close to the ground but if you sit up for me I’ll get on one knee.”

Sitting up to stretch was good for your back anyway, “I think I’ve waited long enough.”

The velvet box opened and your jaw dropped, “picked it out in Skyhaven. Gideon and I helped the elderly owner of a small shop with some boxes he was struggling with in front of his door. Knew it was perfect right away, gorgeous and one of a kind like you.”

“You’re ridiculous, but I love it.” He slid it on your finger and sealed it with a kiss, and you fell into his arms like you’ve wanted to for the last six months.

Pulling away after many minutes of hugs, ‘I love you’s’ and kisses wasn’t welcomed by you. “Now, how ‘bout some dinner? I don’t think snacks are enough, they were backup. Gotta keep you healthy.”

“Did you like it?”

You were pulled to your feet and carried out of the room. “Didn’t eat without you, sweetheart. Having dinner without you and the baby felt empty.”

“Good. You can reheat it then.” You waited for the perfect moment to drop your bombshell, which happened to be when he was carrying a full glass pitcher of water for the table. “We’re having a daughter, by the way.”

The pitcher fell so fast his evol barely managed to catch it before glass hit the ground. It left you feeling smug.

You couldn’t help but cackle at his shocked spluttering, “A WHAT?”

I’m so flattered, I’ve never had so many people interested or had a taglist this long: @pixelcafe-network @kentochronicles @sashisuslover @lunia-likes-pomegranet @elli4ever @mysssticc @kaemaybae @kamisatoaiko @midiplier @jamseashell @llamabois @boba14 @crimsonspring @angrychinchillanoises @ali-shiii @kazbae95 @ifistoptherain @c-I-stinnett @nephelesthoughts @etherealzi @jjoppees @keithkoganeirl

All divider credits to me @thecutestgrotto

[yandere-writer-momo]

Hi I really LOVE your works literally so much😭, I just wanted to request, it may be weird, what about a witch reader who has social anxiety or just don't interacts with people, so when she would feel lonely she would bring her daily objects to life for company and turn them back into normal again, but one day one object manages to hide so reader isn't able to turn him back, and this object just feel absolute devotion to reader, bcs reader quite literally owns him

I haven’t really done a request in forever, but I absolutely adore this idea! Adore adore adore. Thank you so much, anon ❤️❤️

Yandere Head Canon: Prized Posession

Yandere Gargoyle x Fem Witch Reader

TW: Yandere content. You should know by now the content I write

You were often lonely in your cabin tucked away deep in the mountains. Your only living company was the animals that lived in the forest. Life was easier this way.

Humans terrified you due to their unpredictable and chaotic behavior. You appeared human for the most part, but you were a witch. And you never knew if they burn you at the stake if they found out, so you decided to live as far away from civilization as possible.

It did not help that you were incredibly, socially anxious, so you’d likely hiccup and reveal your identity anyways. So you decided stay in this forest in this old, abandoned gothic manor for the rest of your days.

You often wondered if the old master of this house with some kind of nobleman or maybe even a vampire. Regardless, this place was yours, and you could do with it whatever you pleased.

Yet, you were lonely. Painfully lonely. So you often used your magic to re-animate objects around your house for company.

It started off innocently. You would bring the teapot and the tea cups to life and they would be a happy little family as I talk with you about their mundane lives. You never realized how objects can hold memories… each object sharing memories with you until you ultimately returned them to their original form.

You began to grow bolder and bolder with the objects you brought to life until you finally stumbled across to gargoyle above the front door. It’s monstrous form crouched, menacingly above the manor to keep trespassers away. It’s large bat like wings spread out intimidatingly.

You decided to bring him to life. Your eyes widened when he flew down to stand before you. He was almost 7 feet tall and pure muscle. He was somewhat humanoid, but still obviously a monster. He stood on two legs his fingers and toes had sharp talons. His face elongated into the snout of a vampire bat.

His voice was deep, masculine, and gravely, like he had been a smoker for most of his life. Yet the gargoyle was very polite.

Out of all of the objects you brought to life, the gargoyle was the best company. He reminded you of those gentlemen written in romance novels with his manners and patient demeanor. It was only his monstrous appearance that startled you.

He would sit with you and stare at you with those piercing gray eyes, almost as if he was studying you like a specimen. He would hang on your every word, as if you were the most interesting creature in the world.

You weren’t used to such attention, especially not from the opposite gender. Yet he always made you feel special. Like a lady…

He would pull your chair out for you before he poured your tea, and then he would sweeten it exactly the way you preferred. You were both flattered and a bit frightened with how much knowledge he had of your habits…

The gargoyle would also dance with you under the moonlight, his hands were cold stone. Sometimes his hand would sneak around your waist and he’d pull you closer like you were his lover. A chuckle would always escape his lips when you’d gasp.

“ I want a name.” He whispered in your ear as he sat beside you as you read a book next to him in your study,

“A name?” You softly asked him. “Hmm… what about Grim?”

His face turned up into the slightest of smiles. His clawed hand took yours.

“Grim… my name is Grim.” He planted a kiss on the back of your hand. A shiver rolled up your spine from how cold he was. 

Since that day, Grim wouldn’t let you turn him back into a lifeless gargoyle. He would hide from you every time they broke.

“You’ll be lonely during the day if you don’t have somebody.” He would insist. Yet you couldn’t help the feeling that bubbled in your gut that something wasn’t right with him. Why was Grim so insistent on being by your side? Weren’t gargoyles always meant to be silent watchers over the home?

Sometimes, when you wake up from sleep, he would look through your spell books. Yet he didn’t even feel shame when you caught him. He would just give you that signature ghost of a smile as he held the book close to his chest.

“Good morning, mistress. I’m just studying these pages to see if I can find something to further deepen our bond.”

You hated confrontation, so you didn’t correct his behavior. A mistake that would haunt you.

A week later, and he became more and more animated. It began to scare you since he was no longer cold to the touch like a sculpture… no. He was warm like a body. He felt like a living creature.

You gulped when you felt a pulse. He wasn’t supposed to have one of those… this is why your instructors back in a day always warned you to never leave an object alive for too long. Objects could learn sentence and eventually become their own being… and now you had the full attention of a century old gargoyle. One that would never let you go.

He began to spin your body around in the daily waltz you always danced with him. His snout borrowed into the crook of your neck as he inhaled your scent greedily.

“I’m so happy I can finally smell your sweet scent, mistress. I was so lonely for a century in this manor. But you brought me to life. You listen to me and talk with me… I want to always be with you. Please… won’t you be mine as I am yours?”

You felt his bat like wings pull your body closer to his as he pressed his lips to the top of your head like a lover would. “I wish to be your one and only, mistress. I want to be your prize possession and you be mine. So won’t you stay with me?”

You sighed and wrapped your arms around him. It was not as if you had a choice. You had a responsibility now, and it was to keep this creature content. Even if you had to be his prized possession.

[azzifuddfanpage]

Paige catching Azzi masturbating and she doesn’t let it go but instead tease her and join her in helping her cum

Caught

———— thank you for the prompt!!!🫶

ALSO PLEASE GIVE ME UR FEEDBACK AND COMMENTS OR IM NOT DOING ANOTHER PROMPT TN THANK YEW

———-

3.1k words tw: smut

themes: smut like all smut good luck 👍 (hope u sluts are happy 🤷‍♀️)

———— Paige and Azzi had spent the majority of the year attached at the hip. 

When the espys rolled around and Paige had to fly out to Los Angeles, Azzi couldn’t help herself but miss her after spending almost every waking minute together.

“U really have to go?” Azzi asked, her arms connected tightly against Paige's waist, and her face nuzzled into the crook of her neck. 

Paige took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of Azzi’s coconut lavender shampoo. 

“I know baby, I have to go, but it’s only for a few days, and I’ll FaceTime you every night.” 

“Better be everyday too.” Azzi pouted. 

Paige's heart warmed seeing her girl all clingy to her, and she tightened her grip around her.

As happy and blessed she was to be given this opportunity, she was sad she couldn’t have her best friend/ girlfriend beside her.

———

Seeing Paige in the suit, her hair pulled back into the low messy bun, her eyes sparkling under the spotlight. Azzi couldn’t hide the nagging heat between her thighs that was desperate to be settled.

Paige was originally supposed to come home 2 days after the espys.

The first day after was filled with parties, and then the second day she had to meet with someone to work on her nil deal with her shoes. 

What Azzi didn’t know was that Paige had changed her flight, and instead of flying out that next morning, she would fly out that afternoon. 

———

Azzi on the other hand had more important things to worry about, more specifically, the evolving heat in her core that had been growing since the day Paige left.

She tried to ignore it, she tried to distract herself by watching frozen (5 times), working on extra skills in the gym (even though there was only so much she could do since her last injury), or even learning how to make baked Mac and cheese from scratch (one of paige’s favorites), but none of it seemed to scratch the itch that was so badly limiting her.

She knew she wouldn’t be able to skip out on watching the espys that night.

So when she clicked on the tv and saw the way Paige's fingers wrapped around the mic, she was already very fragile.

Somehow she managed to hold off that entire night and into the next day.

She continued to keep herself busy like she had done before, going to rehab, focusing on the summer classes she had taken to work through her masters, but by the time that evening rolled around and she opened TikTok she knew she was screwed.

The first video on her for you page was an edit of Paige in her espys fit.

Azzi’s eyes glazed over as she saw the way Paige's nimble fingers grasped the microphone, the level of confidence seeping out of her as she spoke. But what did it for her most was the way her veins popped in her arms the same way they did when her fingers were thrusting in and out of Azzi’s lower stomach, desperate to please her.

Azzi looked at her phone, the ache in her stomach too strong to ignore, she moved her fingers down to her waist band and slipped them into her panties, her clit already sensitive  to the touch as she rubbed against it, collecting her stick from the entrance of her hole.

She moaned at the contact, her eyes focusing on the video of Paige, her Paige, she imagined her fingers were Paige's needy long fingers that could never stay off Azzi.

Azzi didn’t even feel embarrassed at this point, it wasn’t like she had never done it before, when they had been long distance before they had to use similar methods, but now, she wasn’t used to this.

The feeling of her own fingers against her skin, would never match Paige's.

Paige knew her body better then she did, knew what made her whimper, what made her legs shake, what made her white syrup spill as Paige thrusted against her g spot.

As Azzi slugged off her shorts and began to lazily fuck her fingers into herself, she could already feel a release brewing, but it wasn’t the same. She felt as though the release she had was bottled up for so long that it was stuck. 

Azzi fucked herself, transitioning between thrusts in and out of herself, to soft rubs and aggressive rubs on her clit, she went back and forth with this for a while, her orgasim remaining close but still so far.

Azzi let out a frustrated moan, her focus going back to the video, pretending her fingers were Paige's, persistent and begging to be swallowed by Azzi’s needy pussy.

Azzi threw her head back moaning Paige's name.

——-

Paige was honestly tired from her long day of flying, but after 3 days without seeing Azzi, she too not only missed her emotionally, but she also had an ache between her legs that only a curly haired brunette guard from UConn could cure.

Paige walked into the suite and was met with an overwhelming layer of silence. 

She wanted to surprise Azzi. 

When Paige finally pushed open the door, she saw Azzi’s legs spread open, her fingers desperately against herself.

Paige felt her knees buckle at the sight.

The way Azzi was folded over, her body spread out on the bed, a bead of sweat running down her forehead. 

She watched as Azzi’s fingers dip lazily into her hole. 

Paige continued standing there, her eyes unable to leave her girlfriend's vulnerable frame. 

Azzi threw her head back- eyes still shut- as she moaned.

“Paige.” Azzi whimpered, her phone still lying forgotten in front of her. 

Paige smirked hearing Azzi’s breathy whimper of her name.

“Not even locking the door first damn az.” Paige finally spoke, breaking the silence.

Azzi let out a yelp, jumping at the sudden unexpected presence in her room.

Pulling out her fingers she threw the blanket over her.

“JESUS PAIGE WHAT THE FUCK” Azzi said a little out of breath from how startled she was.

“you actually just scared the living fuck out of me.” Azzi continued rubbing her face with her hand (not the one that was just inside of her) 

“Ya literally” Paige snorted, walking closer to her and pulling down the sheets exposing Azzi’s naked frame.

Her nipples were hard from the cold air, and Paige could see how wet she was under the light.

“Really couldn’t wait for me, could you baby?” Paige said, running her finger along Azzi’s abs.

Azzi shuddered under her contact, shaking her head embarrassed.

“I tried- just missed you badly.” Azzi said ashamed, her eyes subconsciously darting to her phone.

Paige looked at Azzi’s phone and then back at her. Both their eyes darted back and forth.

Paige lunged for the phone at the same time as Azzi, beating her there.

Flipping it over she unlocked it and smirked when she saw the edit of her playing on the screen.

Azzi threw a hand to cover her face.

“I’m never gonna hear the end of this am I?” Azzi asked, burying her face in the pillow. 

“Not if you want me to help you baby.” Paige says, putting down her phone with a smirk. 

She pulled Azzi's hand away from her face, using her fingers to tilt her chin towards her. 

“Missed this pretty face so much.” Paige whispered, leaning forward and climbing onto the bed so she was now hovering over Azzi. 

Paige ran her hand along Azzi’s neck, moving it up and tracing along her jaw.

She leaned forward and placed a soft open mouth kiss on the soft skin under her ear.

Azzi let out a whimper, her hips wiggling as Paige adjusted her position, her legs straddling either side of her. 

“So needy baby.” Paige whispered as she sucked a little on Azzi’s skin, releasing it and licking over the reddened skin with her tongue. 

“Please.” Azzi moaned as Paige's tongue licked at her lip, dipping inside.

Paige pulled her tongue away, sitting up slightly so she could look at Azzi’s desperate state underneath her.

“Tell me how much better I am at fucking you.” Paige whispered, as she watched Azzi’s lips pucker in the air, reaching out for Paige's. 

Azzi’s eyes opened as she pouted.

Paige laughed, her finger tugging at her puffy bottom lip. 

“Do u want me to help you finish or should I just let you finish yourself off.” Paige said simply, her finger running back down and connecting with her neck as Paige's lips connected back to Azzi’s.

As their tongues massaged against each other, Paige smirked against her.

Paige softly bit against Azzi’s lip, tugging at it and listening to the soft sigh that left her.

When she finally sat up, Azzi whined. 

“Paigeee.” She whined.

“Fine if your gonna be difficult, you’re gonna keep fucking your sled and we’ll see how far you get.” Paige decided, sliding backwards off Azzi’s bed, and facing her.

Azzi’s face turned red as she watched Paige needily stare at her throbbing pussy. 

“Don’t be shy now baby- all u have to tell me is how much better I am at making you finish.” Paige said with a smirk, her eyes running over her folds. 

Azzi, being the stubborn person she was, refused to let Paige win this.

She rolled her eyes and moved her fingers back down to her pussy, running them through the wetness that had collected near her hole.

She moaned at the much needed contact, and began to rub her fingers in small circles over her clit.

“Look at me while you do it.” Paige said her voice was soft but firm.

Azzi looked up at her slowly, her breath shakily.

When her eyes met Paige's, and she saw how dilated they were-drunk on the sight of her pussy, she almost came right from that.

“You know if I was touching you right now, I would have had you cum by now.” She said confidently, smirking as she watched Azzi crumble under her eye contact.

Azzi blushed even more, looking away from Paige and focusing back on pleasing herself.

Her fingers moved away from her clit, traveling down and dipping into her entrance. 

She inserted two of them gently, thrusting and curling them against herself.

She let out a seductive moan that sent shivers down Paige's spine.

Paige wanted nothing more than to shove Azzi’s hand aside and take her right there, but she was also stubborn.

She watched helplessly as Azzi’s fingers curled into her pussy, thrusting them in and out, speeding up.

Azzi moaned, sitting up on her elbow to give herself a better angle.

As much as Azzi didn’t want to give in, she knew she wouldn’t even have to. She knew paige. 

If Paige wanted to eat, she would eat.

Azzi looked up at her, “Paige.” She moaned, staring at her intently until Paige's eyes- that were entranced by her fingers- found hers.

“Fuck it.” Paige said practically jumping on her, ripping her hand away from herself and diving her mouth into Azzi’s pussy. 

Azzi let out a laugh as Paige tongue tickled her inner thigh.

“Fucking always get ur way don’t u princess.” Paige said as her tongue ran against Azzi’s wetness, spreading it across her pussy.

Azzi moaned loudly, her hand coming and wrapping in Paige's hair tugging her closer to her core.

Paige dipped her tongue into her whole, thrusting it in a couple times as her finger played with her clit.

Azzi let out a whine, needing more stimulation.

Paige brought her tongue up to her clit, exchanging the pressure of her tongue, for her pressure of her fingers, now filling her.

As Paige sucked and pulled on Azzi’s clit, her 3 fingers went to work, thrusting in and out.

Azzi, who had already gotten herself very close before, was now gripping at Paige's scalp, Paige's fingers slamming against her walls.

“Fuck P.” She moaned as paige lapped at her clit. 

Azzi adjusted her position, sitting up on her elbows to watch her as her fingers stilled inside her.

Feeling Azzi’s eyes on her, Paige looked up, still pulling on her clit. 

The sight of Paige's big blue eyes completely drunk off her pussy, the feeling of her fingers thrusting back into her, and her tongue flicking at her clit, was all too much for her.

“Fuck paige I’m gonna cum.” 

Paige smirked as she could feel Azzi’s legs shake.

Her fingers stilted inside her, and she lifted her head to her ear, letting her lips tickle it.

“Tell me how good I am to you.” She paused, pressing her lips to Azzi’s ear. Azzi moaned, the throbbing between her legs, too much for her to take.

“Fuck need you to fuck me paige please.” She whined, giving in as Paige sucked at her neck. 

“Tell me how much better I am at fucking you.” She whispered, her tongue soothing the now purple skin.

Paige moaned into her ear and Azzi caved, “fuck you know my body so well baby. You’re so good, please continue.” Azzi whispered, her hips thrusting up to get some type of friction.

“If you insist.” Paige winked, her three fingers diving back down and fucking into her. 

Azzi moaned, her abs flexing as she hunched over from the pressure of Paige's fingers hitting at her walls.

Azzi moaned, and Paige's fingers dove deeper inside.

Paige’s other hand grabbed Azzi’s stomach, pressing on it to stabilize herself.

Azzi felt her finger brush her g spot, and the band in her stomach snap.

Paige lowered herself down so she was angled at her pussy as she could hear her fingers squelching as Azzi released.

She drank up every bit of liquid that spilled from Azzi’s cunt.

“tastes so good, baby.” “Missed her so bad.” She said as she pulled out her fingers, letting more of Azzi’s cum spill out of her.

Azzi was a pile of moans, and Paige eventually pulled away from her cunt, climbing back up to connect with Azzi’s lips, letting her taste herself.

Paige swallowed Azzi’s moans as their tongues fought together.

After Azzi had caught her breath, she pulled Paige away from her.

“Hey just cuz I gave in and let you fuck me doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be able to do it on my own.” Azzi assured, her eyes finding Paige's. 

“Whatever you say baby.” Paige said, snuggling herself into the crook of Azzi’s  arm.

“Wait no.” Azzi said, pushing her off of her.

Paige's head fell onto the bed. 

“What are you talking about Azzi?” Paige sighed.

Azzi climbed on top of Paige so she was straddling her.

“Why don’t you think I could fuck myself as good as you do?” Azzi asked, holding Paige's arms down so she couldn't resist her.

“Nah I know u could, I’m just better.” She replied cheesing. 

Azzi teasingly shoved her face away. 

“Ya we’ll see about that.” Azzi said as Paige's face contorted into a confused look.

Azzi pulled up Paige's shirt, placing soft kisses above her sports bra. 

Paige moaned as her teeth nipped gently at her skin. 

Azzi pulled down her bra, exposing her hardened nipples.

Azzi looked up to find Paige already looking at her with big needy eyes.

Without looking away, Azzi leaned down and wrapped her mouth around Paige's nipple, pulling on it and releasing it with a pop.

She watched as Paige moaned, throwing her head back.

Azzi smirked as she left her bra up, keeping her tits out as she trailed down to Paige's waist band.

“Lift up for me baby.” Azzi said as she dipped her fingers into the band of her sweats.

Paige lifted her hips so Azzi could pull off her sweats.

Azzi threw them behind her, leaning down to level herself with Paige's pussy that was still covered by her boxers.

Azzi ran a finger over her clothes pussy feeling the slick through it. 

“God Azzi.” Paige whimpered as Azzi pulled down her boxers too.

“Need you so bad princess.” Paige said, tangling her fingers in Azzi’s curls pulling her mouth towards her slick.

“Oh is that right?” Azzi said, her breath hitting against Paige's wet clit, sending a shiver through her body.

Paige whined at the feeling against her slick. 

She nodded, but Azzi wasn’t satisfied.

“Well maybe u should just fuck yourself since you’re so much better than me.” Azzi teased, running her fingers on her inner thigh, dangerously close to her aching clit.

“Bruh come on you know I didn’t mean it baby.” Paige whimpered as Azzi’s fingers traced over the sensitive bundle of nerves.  

“Maybe but I want you to tell me.” She whispered seductively, triggering a submissive reaction in Paige's body.

“Need your pretty fingers so bad sweet girl.” Paige moaned.

Azzi could have cum again just from Paige's words, instead she licked a long stripe up her pussy, rewarding her for good behavior.

Paige moaned, shifting her body so her hips were elevated and pressing into Azzi’s mouth. 

Azzi switched to kitten licks against her clit, motivated by her words.

“Such a good girl- doing me so well.” Paige moaned, running her fingers through Azzi’s curls, pulling them back and away from her face.

Azzi sucked on her clit, and her fingers ran through her wetness, dipping into her hole.

“Please baby- need you so bad pretty.” Paige moaned as her fingers inched deeper into her slowly.

Azzi felt Paige's breath shift underneath her.

“Ya you like that don’t you. Just love fucking this pussy huh baby?” Paige growled.

Azzi didn’t answer, instead she responded by thrusting her fingers deeper into Paige's pussy, thrusting them in and out.

Paige groaned, her hand pushing Azzi’s head into her pussy so she was sucking on it harder.

“Right there fuck baby you’re so good.” Paige moaned as Azzi’s fingers pounded against her g spot.

Azzi smirked against her clit, Paige's hand directing her movements so her tongue was now rubbing up and down against it.

With her fingers still fucking deep inside her walls, and her tongue sucking and lapping at her clit, paige could feel the orgasm closing in on her. 

“Gonna cum baby…fuck.” Paige moaned, her legs shaking around Azzi's body.

Azzi wrapped her arms around Paige's thighs, pulling her so she was closer to her.

Azzi sat up a little, pulling paige into her lap to change her angle, fucking her fingers deeper inside her, letting paige��s moans fill the air. 

Paige moaned loudly as Azzi’s teeth grazed her sensitive clit.

Before she could even realize what was happening, her cum was pouring out of her and Azzi was greedily drinking it up.

Paige was still out of breath as Azzi rode out her high.

“You like the way I taste mama. you’re so perfect. Such a good girl eating me so well.” Paige says as she pulled a strand of Azzi’s curls out of her face and pulled it behind Azzi’s ear.

Azzi continued to fuck her through her high until paige was physically pushing her away and pulling her up so she was laying her on her stomach. 

“You did so good pretty.” Paige whispered again to Azzi's cheek as she rubbed small circles against her bare skin.

Azzi sighed contently as she nuzzled deeper into Paige's chest, letting the warmth of Paige's skin surround her.

[wonallofme]

pinching!

tw and tags: bully!heeseung x plus size!fem!reader, descriptions of bullying, a lot of physical contact, noncon then heavy dubcon, oral sex (f receiving). word count: 2.3k note: originally written with a different idol in mind, this fic was already posted in my old blog. while talking to one of my best friends in the app we decided to re-post old fics for fun and idk why but while checking some of them I felt this one fitted Hee. I changed it a lot tho. anyway, hope someone here likes the concept. i’m a big fan of plus size/chubby reader but haven’t had the opportunity to talk about it here in the blog yet so, if you like it too, please don’t hesitate to hit my (empty) inbox! special thanks to fairy for being my first-ever beta reader ❤️

You have a couple of memories from that place, like how good it felt to hug your grandmother before bed, how there was a little stall in front of your school that always had tasty sweets, and how there was a little boy you used to walk home with after classes finished.

There wasn’t much objection once your mother said you would go back and live together in your grandmother's place not to leave the house empty. You had a couple of friends, but it was nothing special, so you said goodbye to them and moved with your mother without problem.

You had to admit you were kind of happy to move. Yeah, you wouldn’t be able to hug your grandmother, but at least you would feel her presence with the old floors and flower decorations that surrounded every room. Perhaps you could eat those sweets again, and there was the chance of making new friends too. Good things could come, you thought.

If you’re honest, you just hoped you could see him again.

You should've known at that point in your life that having expectations only leaves the sour aftertaste of disappointments.

The stall wasn’t there anymore, the entire house had changed because of your mother's decision, leaving no trace of your grandmother behind, and the sweet boy that used to follow you with a smile now followed you to make fun of you.

It was easy to recognize him. He had the same eyes and shiny smile, and you were elated to see a good, old friend all grow up into a real man. Sadly, he wasn’t as happy as you to see you again, showing you a disgusted face once you told him who you were.

‘’Don’t fucking talk to me,’’ he said, and you didn’t understand what you had done wrong. Perhaps you were too confident, your perfume wasn’t to his liking, or your hand was sweating too much when you touched him. You honestly had no idea why he reacted like that, but you understood that, just like his appearance, he had changed too. 

After all, that sweet boy you used to know would’ve never talked to you that way.

That interaction alone was enough to make you never want to approach him again. You didn’t want to hear that tone or see that expression again, so you did your best. You avoided him in the hallway, you stayed in your seat not to cross his way during breaks, and you didn’t look his way when you recognized his voice. 

It was all useless though.

You had become his new favourite thing.

At first, he was all words and no bite. He’d throw comments every now and then about your physical appearance, like comparing you to a pig when you ate your lunch in the cafeteria or mocking your uniform for being bigger than normal because of your size. 

His friends only laughed at these comments, and those who weren’t his friends stayed silent. They were different groups but shared one same trait– None dared to approach you, afraid of receiving the same treatment from him.

Then, he started to touch you.

He pinched your arm, telling you to give him your homework to copy it. Later, it was your cheeks, telling you to stop eating if you didn’t want to gain weight. Finally, one day, when everyone had left for the PE class while you were searching for your towel in your seat, approaching you silently from behind, he pinched your waist.

Scared, you turned to him. It had hurt a lot more than when he did it to your cheeks. You knew that, more than to bother you or call your attention, like on the other occasions, he had done it with all the intention of hurting you.

When you looked at his face, you noticed that his typical grin wasn’t there, replaced by a surprised expression and curious eyes instead. Somehow, you felt that something bad was about to happen, so you pushed him out of the way and walked out of there as soon as you could without caring that you were leaving with empty hands.

‘’Where’s your towel?’’ your teacher asked you.

‘’I forgot it,’’ you answered, not wanting to return to the classroom.

Later, Heeseung arrived with your towel in his hand, and you got punished for not bringing all the obligatory material.

He got worse.

if he crossed you in the hallways, he would shamelessly pinch your waist until you hissed, and when he found you in the library, between shelves, he would pinch your ass, grinning from ear to ear at the picture of you biting your lips not to make a sound so you wouldn’t get in trouble again.

As if everything he did was an innocent game, he smiled at you after nipping different parts of your body, like the side of your ribcage when you decided to walk away from his teasing, the back of your hand when you tried to push him away, or your thighs when he sat beside you in the cafeteria or the study room.

‘’Why are you doing this?’’ you whispered, pushing his hand away from prying under your skirt and pinching your upper leg.

‘’Look at all that skin,’’ he answered, grabbing your round hand with force to stop you from getting away. ‘’Your body is begging for it.’’

When you tried to do it again, to get away from his hands, he pinched the space of your chest that your bra didn’t cover.

Making you whimper in pain, he laughed at your hurt expression.

‘’It really hurts!’’ you tried to reason with him, but he was a lost cause. It didn’t matter that you were full of little purple and green spots, flinching at the mere sight of him lurking around, he wanted more.

This is going to end at one point, you tried to tell yourself.

He’d get tired and leave you alone when he found a new toy. It was impossible he only focused on you the entire time, and even if it was like that, it was your last year. After that, you prayed, you’d never see him again.

Everything comes to an end.

Your house was the only safe space you had. Even if it wasn’t anything like the warm memory you had about it, it was a place that had never been tainted by Heeseung, unlike your school, or the streets you walked to arrive there.

Sometimes, he would follow you while murmuring insults, pretending to be a good friend walking you home. Nonetheless, once you opened your entrance door and saw that he stayed feet away, you would exhale, relieved that he didn’t try to follow you inside, too.

‘’Your friend is waiting for you in your room,’’ your mother smiled. ‘’I’ll go and buy something for you to eat later’’ 

She, unlike you, was excited to have him there, and you, trying to breathe properly not to show how the panic was consuming you, nodded.

‘’He’s become such a handsome man,’’ she murmured before leaving.

There was nothing you could do to run away, it was your house, and opening your room door, you saw him calmly looking at your stuff.

Your pillow wasn’t where you left it, so it was impossible to deny he had been roaming around for a while, invading your space and doing whatever he wanted, like he always did.

Standing in front of your bookshelf, one of your diaries open in his hands, he sensed your presence.

‘’Didn’t know you took so many walks, thought you would never come,’’ he said, passing the page and inspecting its content as if there was something in particular he was looking for. ‘’It doesn’t explain why you still look like that though.’’

‘’Heeseung, I’ve done nothing to you,’’ you sounded as if you were begging at that point. ‘’Why– I just don’t get why.’’

‘’I have my reasons,’’ he answered, closing the book and leaving it where it previously was.

You flinched when he showed the intention of getting close to you. Your hands became fists behind you, fully alert, one of them gripping the knob, ready to run into another room in case he tried to hurt you again.

‘’We were friends,’’ you said, lower lip slightly trembling. ‘’Please, stop. It hurts, Heeseung. It hurts a lot.’’

He saw you like that, broken, vulnerable, and he beamed.

Walking towards you, you thought your body would listen to you and escape, but it didn’t.

As you remained frozen in your place, caging you with his body, he finished closing the door behind you. Too late, you only reacted after hearing the loud click the secure did.

You started trembling as you realised he had blocked the only way of running away you had.

‘’But if I don’t touch you, who else will?’’ he whispered, taking your shaking hand in his. 

Not pinching it this time, he interlocked his fingers with yours and pulled you closer to him. Your torso compacting his made you more conscious of how you were completely alone in your room, and, therefore, of how unrestrained he was allowed to act.

‘’If you’re good, I’ll stop being so hard on you. What do you think about that?’’ he offered.

You didn’t understand him. Being good with what? 

Looking up at him, you couldn’t move your chest from pressing his because his other hand, forcing you to stay in your place, went to rest over the small of your back, the generous curve from your ass to your waist that was the object of so many of his jokes.

You could see where his actions were going. 

You felt yourself get nauseous with his body temperature and his aroma suffocating you due to the inexistent distance between your bodies.

‘’My mom will come back in any second…’’ you didn’t know what other excuse to use.

‘’I’ll be quick,’’ he smiled, wetting his lips, unconsciously sending a signal to your brain that screamed for you to just be good and get it over with.

‘’Will it hurt?’’ Your face betrayed you, plainly showing all the fears you had, giving him, once again, the upper hand.

‘’Not anymore,’’ he assured you. His hand that used to bring you so much pain suddenly became gentle and trailed up, caressing your arm with multiple marks created by him before finding your chest, and groping it with obvious satisfaction a few times, he felt them until he decided he wanted to touch more of you.

His hands continued their way until he found his new goal.

He cupped your face with a tenderness you had never met from him before, and not wanting to provoke him in any way, you muted yourself. 

To his unpleasant care, thumbs caressing your cheeks, you didn’t make a single noise, not the hiss you always let out when he pinched you, nor the cry when he painfully rubbed your soft skin.

‘’Well done,’’ he praised you, proud of what he recognised as your acceptance.

He expected you to continue being so obedient when he obliged your thighs to open with his knee.

Quickly, he found his place.

You didn’t know what to expect, but you never imagined the situation would end with him ditching your pants somewhere in your room and desperately dropping to his knees so he could accommodate between your trembling legs, slurping all the involuntary wetness your body made you drip not to suffer when the moment of taking him arrived.

Not being able to call his name properly, you whined when his palms gripped your meaty thighs a bit too hard and his tongue found your entrance, penetrating it with sloppy stabs.

The sensation of the tip of his nose bumping against your clit and his fingers separating your plump folds made you bite your lips to stop what felt like a moan.

He was eating you out like a starved man.

Your hands went to his hair, and you have no idea what flooded you, but you felt free to hurt him too. 

You wanted him to suffer too.

Full of unknown courage, you pulled his hair and moved your hips to crush his face, using him instead of the other way around.

Then, it felt good– To hurt him felt way too good. 

You thought, maybe this is why he does it, because you had never felt so powerful and in control before, especially, with him.

Looking down, you two made eye contact even with your chubby stomach prodding out. 

His eyes had nothing of the mockery they always showed. Instead, they were completely lost, drunk and unfocused. You couldn’t contain your moans anymore when his eyes batted and he seemed pleased to have your attention on him.

Not much after he started fucking you harder with his tongue, the knot in your stomach started to feel so tight you knew it would snap in any second.

Without intention, or maybe with all the intention, you closed your large legs around his head, not caring that you were crushing his face as you strongly came over his mouth and nose. 

He mewled, hugging your legs as you asphyxiated him for many seconds before your orgasm finished and you inevitably relaxed. 

Just after giving him everything you had, you finally allowed him to breathe. 

You freed him from your hold, but he didn’t move away immediately.

Gulping your remaining juices, he hardly inhaled once through his nose before he started licking the drops of your orgasm inside your thighs, leaving a trail of kisses along the way until he found his new favourite thing.

With both hands on the back of your thighs, he blinked multiple times before his tongue found its way between your folds, searching for your clit to leave a last loving lick.

As if he was proud you had abused him, only separating forcedly because of your hands pushing his head away from your sensitive clit, he took open-mouthed deep breaths with a still dazed expression.

Regaining some of his senses, he talked with the lower half of his face glistening.

‘’See? This didn’t hurt, right?’’ he smiled.

[ghostgirl-22]

so i actually need pt 2 to the older patrick younger art fic right NOW.. jk but it was amazing

Y’all. Y’ALL. I heard you. And though I don’t really love writing sequels… I’ll do anything for you honestly <33

Original.

It’s a mess and way too long which is prbly to be expected by now. Idk. Sometimes you just have to get out of your head and post 😭

18+ NSFW

CW: AGE GAP 10-11 years, power dynamics, teacher/student vibes, first time vibes, AND mild daddy!kink whoopsie! How did that happen? Obviously if any of these things make you uncomfortable don’t read. I don’t take it personally. I’ll explain myself a bit. Art in my imagination here didn’t get constantly shown up by Patrick and because Patrick wasn’t there Art got the attention Patrick got for his skills so he’s a little more arrogant (still a little insecure because that’s his core) and still messy. Patrick had the Tashi injury which makes him a little less arrogant (brought down a notch but still overcompensates and actively self sabotages because that’s his core) and still messy.

——

Art is still keyed up the next morning. His roommate, Devon, is bragging about hooking up with a senior. Art is trying to pay attention but all he can think about is how he got on his knees and gave messy head to Patrick, Coach Zweig, his 31 year old ridiculously hot tennis coach. And how Patrick practically promised to fuck him if he was a really good boy all week. He’s sitting on his hands trying not to go crazy.

“What did you get up to?” Devon finally asks him. Picking up his towel and getting ready to shower.

“Can you keep a secret?” Art asks.

That makes him sit back down. “Yeah of course.”

Art tells him about Patrick, most of it anyway, watching his eyes widen. He’s not on the tennis team but he’s heard enough about Coach Zweig from Art that he can’t help giggling.

“You’re fucking joking.”

“I’m not, I swear.”

“Holy shit. And I thought I was doing something with that senior. Wow. This would only happen to you.”

Art isn’t sure what he means by that but he’s suddenly asking a million questions. Art tells him some things, embellishing and withholding various details. The closest Art ever came to actually fucking a boy was when he used to sneak in Devon’s bed whenever he got horny at night. They were so close to fucking when Art made him stop. so he made Art promise to stop leading him on. And now they’re proper roommates with boundaries and everything. Though sometimes Art thinks if he asked for it Devon would still fuck him.

Devon thinks it’s hot, the whole Patrick thing. Thinks Patrick wants to make Art his kept boy. “Well I mean… he’s old and everyone says he’s loaded, right? He can give you whatever you want.” Devon says.

“Please, he wouldn’t even give me his phone number.” Art says dismissively. “And I don’t need to be kept I just need his dick.”

Devon chews his bottom lip looking Art over and Art wonders if he crossed a boundary. He’s so fucking messy with them.

“Lucky him,” Devon says dryly, rolling his eyes. “But maybe you should milk it. You’re young and beautiful and blonde and he’s your coach so it’s like.. it’s kind of illicit. He could get you a nice place off campus… be your sugar daddy. Girls do it all the time.”

“I think he’d kill me if I ever called him that,” Art laughs, making up his mind to definitely call him that at some point.

Devon agrees to come out with him next weekend but he still has to wait the whole fucking week. It feels like torture.

They have practice everyday and a game on Friday. Which means Patrick’s in those short shorts running them around the court every single day. Art can’t keep his mind off of him. Just wants his attention so bad, everyday he’s doing everything he can just to get Patrick to look in his direction. But Patrick’s got an epic poker face. He’s so fucking cool and calm and collected. So good at acting like nothing happened. Like everything is the same and they never did what they did.

There's one difference. Instead of having the assistant coach do it… he’ll bring Art to the side and personally correct him when he thinks Art could play better. Show him how to position himself, swing the racket, follow through. Big hands, rough hands, gripping Art's waist to turn his body, his wrist to direct his swing. The same hands that effortlessly lifted off his lap the other night.

“Can’t be all talk and no action sweetheart,” Patrick says lightly, as he’s standing behind him. God. It’s actually stupid how sexy he is. Art’s never thought this much about being penetrated, ever. He makes sure to arch his back just a little more than he usually does. Patrick presses a hand to the small of his back.

Art fingers the grip of his racket. “I don’t think I was all talk.”

Patrick chuckles, low and soft. “Stop it. Focus. Bring that energy here,” he says, “all that confidence right here and no one will rattle you.”

“Like this?” Art demonstrates. He makes a mess of it just so that Patrick will touch him again. It takes a minute before Patrick catches on.

“I think you get it,” he says dryly.

“Please show me one more time. I just wanna be a good boy for you,” Art says lightly. It makes Patrick swallow… his gaze falls helplessly over Arts body and then he looks away smirking.

“Are you having fun?” He says, leaning in close, eyes all crinkly with amusement.

Art wants to kiss him. “Mmhm,” he hums, pressing his lips together. “Though sometimes it still feels like my mouth is so full of you I could just… choke.”

“Yeah… right…” Patrick rolls his eyes, still smiling and then he takes a deep breath and drags his hand over his beard. “Hm…What’s today?”

“Wednesday,” Art says.

“And my plans for the weekend are still up in the air,” he says, patting Art on the shoulder as he takes his racket and turns to face the team. “Five laps around the court, everybody, let’s gooo!” He says loudly, blowing his whistle. “Fucking hustle!”

There’s an audible groan and the sounds of rackets dropping as everyone stops what they’re doing and starts running. “Go join them. And if you keep it up it’ll be sprints next.” Patrick says softly.

Art grins, as much as he hates running and he’s sure his teammates will assume he’s responsible for this bit of conditioning, it was still totally fucking worth it.

He probably should’ve focused more but he wins on Friday in spite of himself. Tennis is such a mental game and while he’s generally confident and loves the attention that comes with playing as number one on the center stage, he’s not consistent. That’s what Patrick always says at least. There are opponents that leave him feeling less sure of himself and then he tends to get in his head imagining he’s somehow inadequate or deficient.

One of those players is a French recruit from UCLA, Jensen Bordeaux. Art starts out strong. Crushes it in the first set. But when Bordeaux fights back in the second and he falls apart a little. It’s a bad habit. He wins another game but it’s not enough. He ends up nearly going into a third set.

“Remember what I said,” Patrick takes him to the side between points. “Stop acting like you can’t finish him off. You can have whatever you want right?”

Art gazes at him and bites his lip. “Mmhm.” He nods.

“Good. You know what you want. Just take it. Okay?”

“Yeah okay,” Art says breathlessly.

“Good boy,” Patrick says, rubbing his shoulders, a little smirk on his lips. “Try not to… you know… choke.”

Art feels heated from the inside out. He goes back on the court except he’s not thinking about the game. Instead he’s so anxious for the promise of tomorrow night that all this begins to feel like a mere obstacle to that. He makes easy work of it, winning the tiebreaker and shifting it so that Stanford goes home the winning team.

Everyone on the team goes out to a frat party to celebrate and Art is so drunk and horny by the end of the night. He stumbles into his dorm at 1 am, falls drunkenly into bed and starts touching himself. Fingers in his mouth imagining it’s the heavy weight and thickness of Patrick’s cock. Imagining Patrick’s large hands in his hair, imagining the soft, easily amused tone of his voice as he murmurs. “Good boy.” Makes him come so fast and hard he passes out.

He’s a mess in the morning. In more ways than one. They don’t have practice after game days so he sleeps off his hangover and the day flies by. He takes a long hot shower before he gets ready to go. Anxiety and anticipation competing for space in his brain and body. Devon loans him clothes that are so much tighter than anything he wears regularly. “Trust me, he’s gonna be all over you in this.”

They get there at the same time as last week but Patrick doesn’t come right away. Art’s waiting and waiting and waiting for Patrick to show up at the gay bar. Devon is at a table, a new boy on his lap and they’re making out. Art is half tipsy, swinging his legs on a barstool while this guy from the baseball team stands between his thighs asking him everything about tennis like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. And that’s when Patrick finally arrives. He spots Art across the bar and smirks. Art gets up right away, making excuses to the now frowning baseball player about seeing him around on campus.

“That was fast,” Patrick smirks, as Art sidles up next to him.

“Well I didn’t know you’d take so long to come,” Art says, moving closer. “Is that an old person thing?”

”Mm, you…” Patrick chuckles, tapping his credit card on the bar. He’s got such a great smile. God. Art is so far gone. This is tragic.

“Can you buy me a drink?” Art asks in his ear.

“No fucking way,” Patrick says, amused.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously, how many drinks have you had tonight?”

Art holds up 3 fingers.

“Is that how many fingers I’m gonna have to put in before I can… nevermind…” Patrick says.

Art grins. Warmth spreading throughout his body. “It’s really big,” Art whispers. “Maybe you need four?”

“God…” Patrick laughs, incredulous. “I shouldn’t even fucking be here.” He sighs, as the bartender approaches them. He orders a whiskey and because it’s two for one he gives in and lets Art pick something. He orders rum and coke.

Art feels giddy as he sips on it.

“So used to getting whatever you ask for,” Patrick says, looking him over, teasing a finger into one of his belt loops. “Twenty years old. God. You make me fucking crazy.” He whispers in Art’s ear.

Art can’t help grinning.

Patrick makes him wait while he talks to people his own age. Acting all wholesome. “Oh he’s just one of my players, I’m gonna make sure he gets home safe.” He even gives Art the key so he can wait in his jeep. Art’s hard as soon as he gets in it. Listens to music too loud and ponders touching himself.

He’s kissing on Patrick right away when he finally gets in the car. He’s been so eager all week. “Mm…” Patrick pulls back, tangling his fingers into Art’s hair. “Fuck… gimme a minute to get you home, okay?” he says and he turns on the engine and puts the music back at a sensible volume.

“Is it far?” Art asks.

Patrick huffs a laugh. “Take a deep breath.”

It doesn't help. Everything smells like him. Art puts a hand on Patrick’s thigh, his skin is so heated. He remembers how warm Patrick’s cock felt in his mouth and then his mouth starts watering.

“Is Tashi there?” Art sighs.

“What do you fucking think?”

Art leans close, just breathing him in. Resting his head on Patrick’s shoulder. ”She’s so pretty.” He hums.

“I know.”

“You’re so pretty.”

Patrick chuckles, a low vibration Art can feel from his throat that makes him shiver. “And you're so tipsy. And so fucking young.”

“But you like it.” Art says softly, rubbing Patrick’s thigh. Skin so warm he’s like a furnace. Already hard enough that Art can feel it.

”And I know I’m gonna regret it.”

Their house is actually huge. On the nicer side of Palo Alto. It’s one of the ones with a pool and a tennis court and a crazy nice view of the city. Art doesn’t know any of this until later because as soon as they're inside he’s trying to get his tongue in Patrick’s mouth. Patrick walks him back towards the living room where there’s a huge leather sofa. Art climbs onto his lap as soon as he sits down. Patrick is touching him everywhere, fingers tangled into his hair. Hands under his shirt, rubbing him, teasing him. Art is just trying his best to feel him, lick into his mouth and taste him. All while grinding against his prominent bulge. Grabbing at his zipper trying to get it out.

“Can you fuck me?” Art begs against his lips.

“Fuck,” Patrick breathes against his lips, he’s gripping Art’s waist tightly. Slowing him down. He sighs like he’s trying to pull himself together. “Mmkay. God. Stand up a minute. I need to get a condom and some lube.”

Art gets up reluctantly, nervous energy making him bounce on his toes like he’s waiting on a serve. Patrick smirks, “Relax… I’ll be back in a minute.” He pats Art’s shoulder as he gets up and disappears into another room. It doesn’t matter whether Art sits or stands, he’s anxious. He looks around the lavish room, fancy furniture, paintings that look expensive. Massive kitchen like the kind you see in movies. Patrick comes back and he’s all loose, t-shirt wrinkled, hair messy, eyes soft. He’s probably done this a million times. He’s got a condom between his fingers which he hands to Art.

“You wanna put it on me?”

”Mmhm,” Art says. He’s also carrying a little bottle of lube. Art’s trying to rip the packet open but his hands are all shaky. Especially when Patrick lifts his t-shirt off, he’s so solid, strong biceps, chest hair that gets darker condensed down the line of his stomach to where his jeans are unbuttoned. Art wants to lick it.

“Okay,” Patrick settles on the sofa, kicking off his shoes. “Give me that, you pretty little virgin and take those clothes off.”

Art hands him the condom a little embarrassed, and starts undoing his jeans. Kicks off his shoes and peels off his shirt so he’s only in boxers. Patrick bites open the packet and eases his jeans down and his cock out. Art takes shallow breaths watching him roll the condom on. It’s so big the condom is a magnum size and it fits snug. He’s heard horror stories about first times, even read a few on Reddit and he’s starting to feel a little panicked.

”Look at you.” Patrick says softly, eyes dragging slowly down Arts body. He pulls Art onto his thighs, god he has thick muscular thighs, Art can’t help wiggling. Patrick’s got him close so their cocks line up, and his palm is covered in lube and he’s gripping them both at the same time. It feels so fucking good Art thinks he might come too fast. He’s moaning, eyes squeezed shut when Patrick stops. Art opens his eyes to see Patrick wetting his fingers with more lube and slips a thick calloused finger back along Art’s entrance. Art feels himself seizing up as Patrick presses slowly inside.

“Take deep breaths,” Patrick whispers. Advice Art tries to follow but it just feels so crazy. He eases another finger in and Art tenses even more.

“Mm if your so fucking tight, I can’t fuck you sweetheart.”

“Does it hurt?” Art whispers.

Patrick takes a breath. “Yeah a little at first… but I think I can make it feel a little…uh better…”

Art shivers, his body suddenly overrun by pleasure as Patrick’s teasing his fingertips deep inside him. Art can hear himself moaning voice suddenly pitched so high he barely recognizes it. “Please… please… “he begs. “Please fuck me… fuck me… fuck me daddy.” Art gasps, losing himself as he’s riding the sensation.

“Fuck… what did you call me?” Patrick whispers.

Art bites his lip, his body heating up immediately with embarrassment. “Mm sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to… I meant like sugar…” He says softly as Patrick slowly pulls his fingertips out. Art is breathless. Patrick doesn’t look mad but his expression has gone heady.

“Fuck… I can be daddy if you need it,” Patrick breathes. “Come…sit on daddy’s dick. Holy shit. What are you doing to me?”

Art swallows, his stomach doing flip flops for the way Patrick says it. He sits up on his knees, he can feel Patrick lining up. It actually feels like a lot. Like way too much. Impossible to take. He’s got his eyes squeezed shut and watering feeling the insane stretch as he sinks so fucking slowly down on it.

“Oh god,” he keeps whispering over and over like a prayer.

“Fuck,” Patrick breathes. His hands gripping Art’s waist.

He’s anxious moving slowly, gripping tightly, it’s too much, he’s too full. And Patrick starts to adjust him while gently rubbing his tummy. “Relax… lets try this angle,” Patrick whispers. Fucking into him in a way that he starts hitting that pleasure spot deep inside with even more intensity. “Good… good boy…that’s right…breathe… breathe… keep breathing… fuck…” Patrick coaches. And then slowly as it happens Art is moaning, bouncing on his lap just to feel it hit over and over and over and over again.

“I wanna… mmm I like it so much. wanna do it all the time,” Art moans nonsensically as he’s riding, not sure what’s happening, just that he’s seeing stars. “I wanna fuck you all the time. All the fucking time. wanna fuck you at school… during practice. In your bed. Wanna be your boy toy. Play with your big dick. Fuck me, oh fuck… fuck me daddy, daddy please. It feels so fucking good.”

“Jesus,” Patrick groans he barely grips Art’s cock and he’s coming loudly, spurts of it covering Patrick’s chest and his own. He can feel Patrick still pressing up into him, it suddenly feels like way too much. Every movement making him shake with how sensitive it feels and then Patrick stills, swearing over and over, gripping Art’s body tight and burying himself deep. Low gravelly sounds against Art’s ear.

”Fuck,” Patrick gasps, breathlessly. “Oh… god. You’re so… fuck I’m so screwed.”

“Mm,” Art collapses against his chest, running his fingers down Patricks soft chest hair all painted with his jizz. His knees are all sweaty and sticking to the leather but he doesn’t really care. He just wants to be close. Patrick is gently rubbing his lower back and it feels amazing. Art can feel him softening and slowly slipping out of him, he thinks he might fall asleep like this.

“You okay?” Patrick asks.

”Mmhm,” Art says.

“You sure?”

”Yeah. Can we do it again?”

“God,” Patrick laughs. “I need at least five minutes and I need you to get up cause I gotta piss.”

“No,” Art whines, unhappy about anything that means he won’t be warmed by Patrick's body heat even for a second. He wraps his arms around Patrick’s shoulders.

Patrick chuckles. “I can’t go anywhere?”

“No,” Art says. “You’re my pillow.”

“Guess I fucked your virgin ass good,” Patrick says.

“For an old guy,” Art says softly, smiling against Patrick’s throat.

“For your daddy, you little freak…” Patrick says gently, squeezing his ass. “Come on, get up or we’re gonna have a bigger mess to clean up.”

Art groans and unwraps his arms. “Can I come?”

“To piss?” Patrick raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Art nods.

Patrick smirks and rolls his eyes before gently curling his fingers into Arts hair. “Yeah sure, come on.”

Art kisses him and he sighs into Arts mouth. “I need a fucking cigarette too.”

“Can I stay over?” Art asks against his lips.

“Mm…” he ponders and sighs. “Fuck it I don’t know why I bother pretending to set boundaries with you…” he says, helping Art to his shaky feet. “Tashi will be home tomorrow afternoon. So you know… better not sleep too late.”

Art grins at him. “Does she know about me?”

“Does she know that after I finally got a good job as a tennis coach at my old school that I’m this close to losing it because I can’t help fucking my barely legal 20 year old star player? No actually. She doesn’t know.” He says dryly.

Art laughs. “I wouldn’t tell. But I mean imagine if I slept with you both. I’d learn so much about tennis.“

Patrick snorts, “This kinda talk is gonna make me take you home tonight actually…”

“Mm too late. You let me call you daddy,” Art grins. “You’re never getting rid of me.”

[kaisentine]

so about this…

you had met your tattoo artist the day prior to you actually getting inked. the meeting was… very interesting to say the least. it was originally supposed to be—and technically still was—a consultation of the design and where you wanted to get it tattooed but it ended up turning into a somewhat professional flirting session.

that had to hurt… your eyes trailed off to your artist’s left arm, there’s a snake of rose thorns trailing from his hand to his neck. he lifts an eyebrow to your obvious staring. “what? like what you see?” he stifles a laugh at your curiosity.

“who wouldn’t? ‘s pretty cool.” you respond shamelessly—geez, what happened to your humility? even he’s thrown back by your bluntness but yes of course, it is pretty cool (omg praise him!). “cool enough for you to look like you wanna touch it?” he asks to match your bold compliment and damn was it even bolder. however—fuck yeah, it is cool enough for you to want to touch it.

your hand traces along the vines that run up his arm. there’s a bunch of curves so it honestly looks like you’re just scribbling on his skin with your finger—it doesn’t feel like anything other than skin, of course. however, it does feel like you’re a child tracing a color book. the real interesting part was the tattoos on his neck—two blue roses connected to the vines. you opted not to touch the roses because then it would feel a bit too intimate and you two had just met.

“now, did ‘ya like it?” he questions you like you had just entered space. “it’s really pretty.” you say before removing your hands off of his forearm. “you have quite a smooth tongue, don’t you?” it wasn’t your intention to have one—you honestly just spoke your truth. you shrug at his comment and he smirks. “back to business; what were you looking to get done?”

“i was thinking we could do it here.” you point towards the top of the shoulder and he grimaces ever-so-slightly. “oh—you sure? for a first tattoo, that could be rough.”

maybe you should’ve heeded his warning. the pain isn’t too bad until he has to go over the lines, it’s a repetitive movement that has you turning your head the opposite way with your free arm bringing a clutched hand to your mouth. you can only imagine how kaiser looks at this very moment, completely focused to avoid any mistakes, his bangs falling down in strands… God save me!

he can sense your pain and by protocol—he stops. “need a break?” his voice now clear after turning the needle off, you nod at his words. the pressure of his gloved hand left your collarbone and shoulder. “aw, you good?” he teases after seeing you relax—what do you think? “sure…”

you aren’t some kind of mind-reader and kaiser is so fucking glad. how would a customer react if their tattoo artist found their pained face from the inking-needle as beautiful as they think the artist’s tattoo is?

he’s also glad you made an appointment with your phone number.

[kaptainandy]

Okay okay okay hold up! You are definitely on to something here! I think Jack being a teen when he moved in is actually very plausible especially because of a detail about the Kelly family that has been in the back of my mind that I didn't know what to make of until now.

I should preface I haven't gotten around to watching/listening TASP so they could've touched on what I'm about to bring up. ANYWAY, why do Bonnie, Jack, and Charlie all having the surname Kelly? This wouldn't have been a question if it hadn't been for the introduction of Shelley Kelly.

What I'm getting at is, before Shelley, it could be assumed Kelly was Bonnie's maiden name. But since she shares the last name with Shelley, we can assume she took on his name for whatever reason (more speculation on that later). And if that's the case, Jack would theoretically still have Bonnie's maiden name as his surname, not Kelly.

So, this brings me to the two possibilities:

a) Bonnie's maiden name actually is Kelly and it was coincidence that Shelley had the same last name, thus explaining Jack's surname being the same as well. Possible, because it's not an unpopular last name, plus it was used as a way to clue the viewers in during the Ireland episode that this Shelley Kelly guy is almost definitely related to Charlie. However, if them sharing a last name was coincidence, I feel like one of the character's would've said something like, "damn Charlie what are the odds?" kinda comment. If it was meant to be played for humor it seems odd RCG would gloss over that since it wouldn't click for most people if not explicitly stated.

or

b) Bonnie changed her last name to Shelley's, as is tradition in both the US and UK. Now this could mean that they were either married, or Bonnie changed her name in an attempt at bonding Charlie to his dad, or some other reason. Reason aside, it would make a lot more sense that Jack would have his last name changed too if he was a teenager as opposed to a grown man.

Assuming Jack was a teenager and Bonnie was taking him in - especially in the event of escaping an abusive household - she likely legally adopted him/took legal guardianship of him. Especially in the US, Bonnie being his legal guardian makes getting healthcare, enrolling in school, etc. way easier for her to accomplish for Jack. Aside from the legal aspect, she likely would also want to ingratiate her brother into their household and sharing a name would definitely make him feel like he belonged. And in the event Bonnie and Jack's parent(s)/guardian(s) were abusive, it makes sense they would want to distance themselves any way they could.

As for why Bonnie would change her surname in the first place, my guess is she was desperate to have Shelley in Charlie's life and despite his obvious disinterest, she deluded herself enough to thinking changing her name would convince him to stay. This is simply my theory and could be speculated about all day so I'm curious what y'all think.

As to why Bonnie kept the surname Kelly despite Shelley being a deadbeat? I imagine the main reason for this is she did it for Charlie. Bonnie was very encouraging of Shelley and Charlie having a relationship via letters and whether or not she told Charlie (or assumed he knew) Shelley was his father, sharing a surname is likely another attempt at connecting them.

Additionally, maybe sharing a surname would make pushing for child support - especially in an international case, and doubly so if the couple was never actually married - and other aid from the father an easier process. This point is just very loose conjecture on my part as I am a dumb dumb and only have a less than flimsy grasp on US law at best, let alone international law. But I digress.

I say all this to strengthen the case that Kelly is not the original shared surname of Bonnie and Jack and that Jack's name was changed when he legally became the dependant of Bonnie. And that, again, would really only make sense if he was a teenager at the time.

Also another point: if we assume the characters are close in age to the actors that play them, Lynne Marie Stewart was born in 1946. If Bonnie's birth year is around the same time that makes her ~30 years older than Jack. If that's the case, then perhaps Jack wasn't leaving an abusive household, but rather was left orphaned after their last surviving parent/guardian passed.

In conclusion, thanks to OP I will be thinking about the Kelly Family Situation nonstop for the foreseeable future and what this means for the characters. Thank you OP for providing me a link to attach this random detail to a theory that has poured fuel on my hyperfixation.

I hope I'm not forgetting some detail that explains this all away because I do not wanna look like boo boo the fucking fool who just typed all this out lmao

Somehow I never really realized that Andrew Friedman and Charlie Day only have a 5 year age difference between them (I assumed it was closer to 10 years), and I realized I've kinda always assumed Uncle Jack was a grown adult when he moved in with the Kellys, when Charlie was a kid (perhaps incorrectly?)

Is Uncle Jack supposed to be canonically significantly older than Andrew Friedman is? Or is he actually cast to his age and supposed to be in his early thirties in Season 1? (I don't think there's an actual answer here, they don't age him in the script or discuss it in the TASP episode.)

But I'm wondering: do you guys automatically assume Uncle Jack is significantly older than Charlie? Or am I alone in just, like, ignoring the actor's actual age and defaulting him to, more or less, looking as he did in Season 1 when Charlie was a kid?

We don't really know the circumstances of Jack originally moving in with Bonnie and Charlie, but now realising their age difference, Jack actually being fairly young when he moved in with them almost, upsettingly, makes more sense than him being a grown adult at the time:

Bonnie taking in her much younger, teen brother (in some absence of her parents being able to care for him, or even paying her to take care of him instead) and sticking him in her son's room would logically make way more sense than if he were a grown man at the time. In many ways, she would see these acts as good deeds: becoming a caretaker to her brother and giving her son a pseudo-brother (who seemed to be happy to love and protect him), which would almost explain why she cannot accept (or even fathom) that this instead resulted in inflicting extreme trauma on her son.

Similarly, the closer age difference between Jack and Charlie would account more for Bonnie being able to turn a blind eye/take Uncle Jack's side when it comes to the "wrestling" comments. If Jack was a grown adult, it's hard not to not raise an eyebrow at, but you would almost expect that a teenage boy would be rowdy with his nephew, and that they would playfight, if not actual fight, quite often while sharing a small space. Conceivably, Bonnie really wouldn't have stopped to question the relationship between Jack and Charlie at the time if he was her displaced teen brother, as opposed to her strange adult brother.

[ruruumin]

take a bite.

synopsis; in a cold, unforgiving world, there is a semblance of warmth between a meister and weapon.

genres/warnings; soul eater au inspired by @kaiser1ns, fem! reader, implied relationships, blood/violence (multiple fight scenes), angst & comfort, 9.5k words.

⤷ part two.

covered in a thick layer of snow, rin lies on the ground, unmoving as his eyes follow the curvature of the overheard moon. its crooked grin looks down on him, cheeks wide and puffy as if it had just laughed. raising his arm, he drapes it over his face. tonight was colder than usual. fragments of ice litter the surface of his skin, melting alongside the small shimmer of tears that float down the side of his temple. 

for the longest time, he thought he knew his brother. the kind-hearted, blue-colored soul that would buy him popsicles on hot, sunny days came back with a bruised heart. like two sides of the same coin, they were connected. weapon and meister. oldest and youngest. drawn together by blood and the ego to become the best. they were meant to be inseparable.

sae had always been his shield against the cold, unyielding world. someone he could always rely on when he needed it. to rin, he was the only person worthy enough to wield him. and for a weapon, that was all he ever needed. he didn’t want anyone else by his side. no one could hold him like sae did. no one else could understand him like his big brother. everyone and everything was obsolete. 

after sae’s disappearance, it left a large hole in the center of his heart. the pain that came from his absence was indescribable. it was a mixture of something hot and cold, a whirlwind of confusion that left a dull ache to settle at the bottom of his chest. like a migraine, it pounds and knocks upon his skull, beating him down until he was nothing but a crumpled ball. 

his older brother left to complete a special task given to him by death. the reason he had was shallow and dumb, he should have figured it out sooner that he was going to be replaced. sae said it was because the mission was dangerous, and death himself would be giving him a weapon appropriate for the situation. this was just another way of him telling rin: i don’t need you anymore. and while he didn’t understand it at the time, he still held up his head, thinking that his older brother didn’t have a choice, it was death’s decision after all.

when sae came back, he was a hollow shell of what he was before. alongside his sunken cheeks and thinner frame, his tolerance for rin had diminished, with this recent match being his breaking point. sae had realized the world of witches, weapons, and meisters was much bigger than him, and chose to pursue a different path than the one he originally promised. there was something new to be discovered further ahead, and to sae, rin’s stagnant personality was the chain holding them back.

the dream the two brothers shared shattered in an instant. 

left to rot on a coffin made of snow, he exhaled slowly, watching his breath drift across the open sky. his body ached, as if he was getting pricked by thousands of sharp needles. after trying to connect with sae’s wavelength, it left him in a paralyzed state, unable to stand properly. it was as if sae’s soul had ripped him apart, shredded the threads that bonded them, and burned it all to the ground. 

the tips of his fingers were freezing even with his thick, black gloves. additionally, there was a bright throb at the back of his head, the spot below him growing damp as the ice slowly melted. the longer he stayed in this position, the longer he’d stay hypnotized by the moon’s charlatan grin and die helplessly of frostbite. 

“did you get abandoned by your old meister?” a voice called out to him. 

the crunch of freshly fallen snow echoes in his ear. a mysterious figure makes their way closer to them, time ticking down with every step taken. the ground flattens underneath their heels as the world grows quiet. like a conductor and its orchestra, they plunge the stage in absolute silence. and as the audience, rin is left wondering if he should applaud. 

a young woman, not much older than him, stood over his body. dressed in a simple black uniform, she wears a plain skull pendant on the collar of her neck, reminiscent of the man working in the great order. the bottom of her coat was split into two snake-like tails which drag along the ground, creating a smooth trail behind her. despite the frigid winds, she stood comfortably by his side, carving her presence in this storm. 

like death, she is swift and calming. 

she hums, tilting her head carefully. craning to look down on him like a crow, she picks away at his facial expressions, seeing the way his brows furrow in a blend of confusion and awe. only now does he note the subtle scent of almonds whiffing in the air.

“your soul has a beautiful voice,” she said, tucking her left hand into the deep pocket of her overcoat. she crouches to meet his level, “and it’s telling me something.” 

reaching out with her other hand, she holds it against his bangs, slowly brushing it aside as she smiles. the shape creeps between the line of wicked and honest. the kind that will tempt you with a sickening sweet apple, coated in a thick layer of poison. it entices him to take a bite of what shes saying. 

“do you want revenge?”

the question sticks to him like a wadded up gum. 

revenge. that was the right word to describe his fiendish anger: revenge, revenge, revenge. unlike other words, this one was on the tip of his tongue. an idea brought to him not in shining neon lights, but hidden beneath the darkness that lurks in his soul. it scratches against his check. thumping twice before knocking against his ribcage. like an animal, it struggles in the confines of what he could only describe as a weak, pathetic body. 

i have to kill his dreams, it says.

“if you become my weapon, i will grant you any wish in the world.” 

an electric jolt of life pierces through his nerves. 

a truly generous offer. so much so that he found himself nearly drooling at the opportunity to see what her world looks like. would he be there? standing above thousands of bodies, shouting his name as he announces his identity as a death weapon, would he be the one to beat sae? 

he shivers, hardening his gaze as the silver winds blow past his cheek, “what do you want from me?” 

his voice has a slight raspiness to it. his lips felt dry as he continued to watch her slow, deliberate movements. her hand dragged itself down his collarbone to the center of his chest, right where his heart lies. the thump remains, beating hard against his eardrums. it pulsates once, twice, three times, before it presses itself against his skin, threatening to break through the surface like a hand waiting to be held.

in his brother’s four year absence, he wasted his time looking for a replacement meister. in this dog-eat-dog world, he refuses to stay trapped underneath this snow-covered grave. he wants to rise amongst an army of men. he wants to raise his fist up and claim the sun’s life. he wants nothing more than to taste the sweetness of a soul, dipped and coated in a thick layer of revenge and satisfaction.

a beat passes before she answers him.

“i just like souls like you.” 

with that answer in mind, he closes his eyes, letting a turquoise light engulf him.

✦

an aspiring meister stands in front of two large double doors. written above the border was a set of numbers for classrooms. because of his luck, his room was the first one in the hallway. sucking in a deep breath, he tilts his head slightly. behind these barriers lie a new, uncertain future from him. 

at just the thought alone, his palms were starting to grow sweaty and clammy. he slowly looks up, basking in what could be his final moments of childhood. nestled between his fingers was a thin sheet of paper.

in cursive, it reads: welcome to the dwma, isagi yoichi.

isagi puffs up his chest, ready to announce his name to the rest of the world as he pushes the door open. this revealed a large classroom of eight other students, a small group whos heads quickly turned in his direction like chicken. they loiter around the near empty room, shifting their eyes and heads to scan their surroundings. from what he can remember in his acceptance letter, he and a few other talented students were scouted to join a very small class of weapon and meisters for reasons unknown to him.

everyone was dressed differently today. from a man with long, peach-colored hair to a pair wearing checkerboard uniforms, aside from one tall individual with ivy-black hair, isagi stood out like a sore thumb. he awkwardly makes his way to the center, standing stiffly while the doors swing open again. 

a blue-ish green, zombie professor enters. he picks up a chalk stick and begins to carefully write his name on the board, rotating his head like an owl. he introduces himself as ego, a former meister at the dwma academy. although relatively unknown and forgotten by the public, he has deep-rooted ties within the school. as isagi fidgets with the letter between his fingers, he could feel ego’s heavy stare linger on him.

“welcome to the dwma, you lumps of talent.” he says, “this is a place where meisters and weapons become full-fledged hunters and death weapons.” 

continuing, “in this world, there are two sets of people: meisters and weapons. those born as weapons have a unique fighting ability which you’ll channel using a meister.” 

drawing a crude guitar and amp, ego hovers his finger in the air as his dead-fish eye stare scans the classroom, “meisters have very faint soul wavelengths. combined with a weapon, you’ll be able to draw out incredible power from each other. only with the right partner and technique can soul resonance can be achieved.”

“the first course of action is to choose a partner for the year. a few of you might already be partners, but for those newly enrolled, this is your only time to pick.” he taps on the board with the chalk in his hands. from there, he only stands in front of the class, unmoving like a statute as he awaits for the clammer.

immediately, isagi looks around the room once again. the people in his class were starting to chat with each other, determining quickly between weapon and meister. because of the structure and the new year, there wasn’t much to go off of when choosing a partner. the only pair he knew for sure were the two checkerboard students who lazied around in the back. 

he scratches the back of his neck, trying to scout someone he could possibly team up with. 

and while everyone else in the class spoke loudly, two people stood out in the front. it was the tall ivy-haired man from before. he blinks owlishly, completely aloof to the instructor’s directions. lifting his hand, he presses it against the nape of his neck, shifting slightly to produce a soft popping noise from his joint. from isagi’s view, he could make out a silver bracelet on his wrist. 

before he could make his way towards him, isagi found himself stopping in his tracks. beside him was a girl dressed head to toe in black, almost blending into the room. like a crow, her expressions were cold and muted, almost calculative with the way it flickers across the classroom. she floats just slightly off the floor by rolling back and forth on the balls of her feet. her smile soft like cotton, the edges curving perfectly upwards in a gentle arc. 

he already had a partner, isagi thought, i didn’t see her at all. it felt almost unnerving the way he couldn’t feel or sense her soul wavelength in the room. 

when she meets his gaze, he quickly averts it, pretending he never saw her. while shaking his head, he instead starts talking to another man with black and yellow hair. he quickly learns his name: bachira meguru, a twin-scythe weapon with a unique style of fighting and a passion for hunting souls. he was amongst a tiny percentage of new attendees that was accepted into the dwma without a partner, making him the perfect candidate for isagi. 

they started to get along quickly, with the latter wrapping his arms around isagi’s neck as he pulls him in his direction. the way bachira treats isagi reminds him of a friend who’s known him for years, despite only meeting now. his happiness is almost infectious, with the sun seemingly shining brighter when he’s in view. 

during their chipper conversation, another student approaches the pair in the front of the classroom. he reaches over, draping his arms around the woman’s shoulder, patting it with the palm of his hand. he has a devilish grin that perfectly matches the moon. he is hunched over slightly, blond hair with pink dyed tips making him too distinguishable from the less explosive crowd. 

“who would have thought i’d see you again, (name),” he says with a voice borderline seductive and sultry. it sends a shiver down her partner’s spine. the base of his skeleton growing a bit heated as he stares him down. 

with a melodic hum, she replies with the same aloof expression, “good morning, shidou. you’re here as well?” 

“got here all on my own, baby,” he looks over her shoulder, raising his eyebrow at her partner. 

the man finally stands up straight, meeting his gaze. because the two stood at relatively equal heights, it made it easier for him to project a more confident, easy-going suave that kept people on their toes at the academy. this would only irk (name)’s partner as he narrows his eyes. time ticks down like a bomb waiting to explode as they continue glaring at each other.

“is this your new weapon?” shidou pouts, “(name), you sly dog, you move on so quickly.” 

“i have no idea what you’re talking about,” she gives him a closed-eye smile, masking the twitching of her eyelid, “do you like him? his name is rin.” (name) artfully intertwined their fingers together, “he’s been quite the help.” 

“he looks to be mad dogging me right now, do something about it,” shidou tugs her back and forth, shaking her as she stares off into space, subtly dismissing the nuisance. “i haven’t even said anything to him either. your partner needs to be put on a leash if he keeps up with this attitude. are you teaching him any manners?” 

“hmph, piss off, roach.” rin shoves him away from his meister, crinkling his nose at shidou with an icy cold stare.

“sure thing, bottom-lid freak.” 

“antenna-head.”

“spoiled brat.” 

locked in a stalemate, rin seethes. while one takes pleasure in the thick, heavy tension, the other despises it. shidou began scratching the back of his neck, rolling his eyes. it looks like he is holding back an excited chill with the way he presses his lips together.

before rin can say anything else to end the conversation, shidou shuffles to the other side, getting closer to his ear. the hot air on his skin sends an electrifying shiver down rin’s nerves, quickly fueling an unprofound rage within him.

“she was my meister before she was ever yours.” 

✦

running through the tight corridors, isagi narrowly avoids a deadly spread shot to the nape of his neck. he clammers out of the dark halls, the grip on his weapon growing more slippery by the second. as tensions grow thicker, he almost hits his head against one of the brick corners from turning too early. his partner, bachira, warns him about the incoming attack to his left. to which he dodges at the last moment. 

“this job might be a lot harder than we thought,” bachira comments, scanning the surrounding area while isagi continues his sprint, “we bit off more than we can chew, isagi. how are we going to get close to those guys if she has a gun?” 

“i have no idea, but we’re going to find out soon.” 

out of all the jobs they could have taken, they impulsively chose one of the more difficult ones on the board. the kind that was plastered high above the rest of the menial academic tasks. despite being newly admitted dwma students and first time partners, they were too eager to rise up the ranks. 

the original job was for two. bachira ignorantly thought it meant one weapon and meister. however, once they dispatched and saw the size of their opponents, they quickly realized the job meant two pairs: two weapons and two meisters. 

bonnie and clyde, two kishin souls they were sent to capture were slicker than eels. they constantly separated themselves to cover more ground, making it difficult for isagi and bachira to pin one of them down. with bonnie hunting them down with a thick, semi-auto shotgun, clyde used a metal pipe to corner them. 

together, they were swift and keen, careful as to not get caught by amateur meisters. the last thirty minutes have been a cat and mouse game, with isagi being the latter. it was not looking well for his ego but he has no choice but to continue forth with the mission. hoping to any sort of god, they would get through it all. 

the pair were hot on isagi’s trails, blazing through every obstacle with ease. the debris from the shotgun blast causes the surrounding area to become a landslide. isagi’s temple is dripping with sweat as he struggles to catch his breath, trying to come up with a cohesive plan to eliminate the kishins. puzzle pieces are falling in his mind and he can only find the corners.

“we need to kill bonnie first and foremost,” he suggests, jumping back to avoid clyde’s downwards swing. the concrete shatters from the impact. while the kishin looks up, he is surprised to see isagi no where in sight. away from his field of vision, the meister quickly moves off to the side, looking left and right for any signs of the duo before he finally catches a break.

bachira whispers, “good thinking, partner! with her out of the way, we can focus on close-ranged combat.”

from the corner of isagi’s eye, he can see bonnie reeling up from behind. her hand was raised, one finger tight on the trigger. right before she was about to shoot, isagi reels the chain from his weapon, using his and bachira’s combined wavelength to manipulate the silver link to wrap around her gun. they rip the shotgun away, successfully disarming her. using the same tactic, they surround her body in chains, immobilizing her. 

taking in a lowered stance, he rushes forward, squeezing the handle of his twin scythe before taking a quick, confident slash against her neck. isagi smiles sweetly, eyes glistening with momentary victory before realizing a fatal mistake: instead of hearing the melodic hum of a soul, they heard the crashing of metal. at the very last moment, clyde had caught up to him, holding out his bat to take the brunt of isagi’s attack. 

he twists the pipe in his hands, slamming it into isagi’s stomach with a harsh gruff.  in an instant, he is thrown through the window of a store, ramming into several shelves. from the impact he chokes on a thick clot of saliva. having the wind knocked out of him, a loud bom blankets the quiet city. alongside the burning humiliation on his cheeks, there was a hammering pain in the back of his head that was screaming out to him.

blood drips down the side of his temple. a bitter, metallic taste fills his mouth. bachira calls out his name in worry, face reflecting off the scythe, eyes wide with fear. meanwhile, isagi is struggling to keep his head up. his heart was beating right out of his ears. fear and exhaustion rise up on him like a furnace about to burst into flames. underneath his fingers, he felt the cold shiver of bachira, his partner left vulnerable and exposed underneath the gaze of a kishin.

squeezing his eyes shut, he tucks bachira behind him, away from danger. footsteps come tauntingly slow, savoring the seconds to come. this is where our journey ends, he thought to himself, all because of his naivety and ego. he world grows deafeningly quiet when he shivers.

taking in what might be his last breath, he keeps his eyes closed.

however, instead of a sharp, piercing pain, a shot rings out and the voices scatter. 

a minute passes before isagi heard the melodic chime of a soul. opening his eyes, he sees a black, circular smoke ring floating slowly into the air, hovering above a shadowy figure like a halo. alongside the echo of a bullet, a pair of footsteps emerge from beyond the corridor.

“sorry for being late,” a familiar face steps out from the darkness. appearing beneath the luminous moonlight, she slowly smiles. a bright turquoise light erupts from behind, a man materializing beside her. 

blinking slowly, isagi notices its the same person he saw in class earlier that week. when she sways side to side, curiously peering down at his wounds, he would have never expected her to be the meister in the relationship. it wasn’t very common, at least in the area he grew up in. but he’s unable to focus on this thought as she reaches out to his cheek, examining the goosebumps on the surface of his skin.

“you look shaken up.” 

(name) and rin manifested in front of him with the same convenience as an answered prayer. with the pulsating pain in his side, he vaguely remembers them from the shinigami list. out of his small class, they were the closest to achieving death weapon status, having collected the most kishin souls in a year. 

“it must have been scary, being alone like that.”

the ivy-haired weapon cracks his finger before approaching the glittering soul. his smooth, pale hand wraps around the crimson-colored orb, mouth opening wide as swallows the spirit whole. an audible gulp comes from when rin finishes his short meal. his meister, with the same alluding smile, turns to face him.

“that makes this soul number fifty-three.”

rin huffs in response, “we only need forty-seven more to beat sae.”

“you’re getting greedy rin rin, there’s still another soul to collect here.”

his eyebrow twitches at the nickname. disregarding his reaction, (name) raises her finger, tapping the bottom of her chin. she averts her attention back to isagi, “we saw your name on the board the other day. this job is meant for two pairs, you knew that didn’t you?”

with a sigh, isagi wipes the bottom of his lip with his thumb, licking away at the dried blood. his cheeks were still red. whether or not it was out of embarrassment or exhaustion was up for debate. 

“we didn’t realize it until we came here,” he confesses, “but we’re glad to see you here.” 

swallowing, he admits with a sharpened voice, “thank you, (name).” 

she blinks, taken aback by his words. nevertheless, the smile on her face grows a little wider, “you did good, isagi.” 

snapping her fingers, rin dematerializes. his figure envelopes itself in the same radiant blue light as before, twisting twice before returning to her outstretched hand. anticipation starts to rise in isagi’s throat, watching intensely as she raises her arm.

she swiftly rolls a large rifle along her fingers, spinning it a few times before resting him on the edge of her shoulder. he doesn’t know what he was expecting, but isagi found it strangely mesmerizing the way his weapon form took the appearance of a long barrel rifle. equipped with a bayonet, the blade is daunting as it looms over him, similar to a large fang. the base of the gun was a deep, ebony color with white spine-like spikes wrapping around itself, acting as a sort of thorny shield. 

when he spins around (name)’s open hand, its smooth and calculated, as if its been practiced a thousand times. the weapon is fitting, he thought to himself. for someone bold, blunt, and jagged, its all too fitting for rin. 

“let’s catch clyde before he runs away again.” 

as she is leaning forward with a hand, intent on helping isagi up, a flicker of silver appears behind her. sparing him the surprise, (name) brings up her rifle to deflect a heavy swing towards her skull. an ear-piercing ring shatters the air. blocking the masked kishin from hitting her, the ground crumbles beneath the weight of his attack, awkwardly offsetting her hand from isagi’s. 

“ah,” she remarks, “sorry.” pushing her gun upwards to shove clyde away. this reaction causes him to lose his balance. 

circling around, she slices the front of his torso with the tip of her bayonet. her eyes glisten with excitement as the kishin reels himself back like a fishing line. he is grumbling under his breath, heaving and sighing as his body groans with pain. using a spared second, isagi takes (name)’s hand, pulling himself from the crumbling debris.

clyde, winded and bloodied, swings his bat at isagi, targeting the weakest link. without bonnie, clyde acted out like a rabid animal, dangling his loose arm around as he attempts to catch anyone within reach. he’s forced to retreat when a black bullet whizzes past his ear, slicing the tip off. 

(name) glances around the city, eyes trailing a shadowy figure in the dark. the trigger of her gun twitches and she wastes no time to fire upwards, using her instinct to predict clyde above her, she blows off his left arm. this causes him to redirect his body midair. his detached limb falls helplessly beside her foot, and the sight is enough to make isagi swallow the bile in his throat.

squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, he focuses on steadying his wavelength with bachira’s, syncing up with him for their next attack. when clyde lands on the ground, isagi uses his chain to wrap around his leg, pulling on it with all his might. 

meanwhile, (name) approaches him from the other side, shooting the back of his knee to tear through the ligament. this has clyde slumping forward, paralyzed and unable to move his leg.

with the same thought, isagi and (name) rushes forward. nearly colliding blades, she successfully beheads clyde while isagi slices his stomach. the kishin, now in three separate pieces, floats slowly in the air. exhaling once, he turns into a gust of smoke that engulfs both the meisters. 

bachira is the first one to transform back, quickly wrapping his arm around his neck as he ruffles his partner’s hair, “we survived! way to go partner!” 

isagi smiles, breathing a sigh of relief, “for now at least, we still got a long way to go.” 

at this remark, bachira’s eyes glimmer, face brightening up with the same gleeful smirk. he pats his stomach, ready to enjoy his meal. excitedly reaching out to the soul, hes stopped by rin. he takes the soul into his hands, biting into it greedily while his meister watches from the sidelines. 

“hey! you already had one earlier,” bachira calls out, hand left floating in the air as he looks at rin with a look of surprise. “this job was meant for two pairs!” 

“so what?” rin rolls his eyes, dismissing him, “if i recall, we were the ones who killed him first. the two of you were just fodder for us to get close.” 

“you!” 

isagi chokes out a response, waving his hands up and down to mediate the situation, “we hit him at the same time, surely that counts for something.” 

the rifle-weapon sends him a nasty glare in response, disgust laced within his teal eyes, “is that what trash like say to make yourself feel better?” he shakes his head, “it was clear from the beginning you never had a chance. if it wasn’t for us, you would have been dead in an instant. be grateful we even came.” 

“you’re both lukewarm NPCs. next time, don’t choose a job you can’t do.” 

this reaction sparks anger within isagi. his fist is shaking from how hard hes pressing his fingers into the palm of his hand. all while this is happening, (name) smiles, seemingly oblivious to the conflict in front of her. 

“don’t worry about it, isagi. you will get a lot more souls later. this is just one of many jobs here at the academy.” 

“(name)...”

isagi smiles in relief, glad that someone other than bachira agrees with him. this was only one mission. there will be more in the future, and by that time, he was going to rise up the ranks. the thought comforts him a little. but just as he was beginning to feel the warm sensation of hope, rin came crashing down on him like shards of glass.

“you’re happy by just a few words?” he grumbles, “your ego must be rotted.” 

unable to say anything else but scrambled gibberish, isagi watches as rin leaves with (name) tucked into his side. the woman skips along the brick road as rin walks in front of her. right before they could disappear into the dark alleyway, (name) spins around to deliver a short, playful wave, mouthing what isagi can only imagine is an apology for her sharp-tongued partner.

once they were out of earshot, bachira finally lets out a groan he’s been holding back. rubbing his face together, he eases the tension in his muscles. with a hand on his hip, he pouts, “what is his problem?” 

isagi only shakes his head. while he looked up to rin earlier for saving his life, his attitude was oozing with arrogance. worst of all, he had ego. the kind of mentality that his professor had previously lectured him about. it frustrates him to think that rin is the kind of guy who thought he was better than everyone else, and the unfortunate part was that it was all true. 

after this mission, he and (name) have successfully captured fifty-four souls. it was a lot better than him who only had around five to his name. he hates to think that rin will become a death weapon before bachira does. isagi couldn’t chalk it up to dumb luck either. he won the lottery with (name) as his partner.

everything about (name)’s fight was seamless. like he was controlled by a puppeteer, he fell into her formula of success. he could sense her wavelength fluctuating to accommodate for rin’s movements, making their options on the battlefield near limitless. 

she was the perfect channel to his flow. the kind of meister most weapons could only dream of having. biting the bottom of his lip, isagi stares off into the hall (name) left in, letting bachira guide him back to the school dorms as he is lost in thought.

from the perfect timing of her arrival to the smooth transition in her movements, it was clear you and rin have been fighting for a long time. possibly a lot longer before he joined the dwma academy. he has to push down the green monster manifesting at the pits of his throat. squeezing his hand into a tight fist, he narrows his gaze. 

he can only hope to achieve what you have today in a few weeks.

on the other side of the city, rin continues his walk with (name), with him glancing back and forth at her figure. he is fidgeting with the bracelet on his wrist, feeling the metal grow heavy on his skin. they don’t talk to each other for a while. instead, opting for a quiet walk through the city.

it wasn’t until rin sees a crow flutter in the distance that he finally says something.

“you didn’t need to be nice to him,” he comments, footsteps echoing alongside his words, “he was just looking for some kind of praise from you. giving it to him is only going to make him hopeful and naive.” 

“theres no harm to it,” (name) replies, reaching out to hold his hand, a subtle act he doesn’t object to despite how poisonous her touch feels to him, “do you think me being nice to him will affect us in any way?”

his answer is curt and simple: “no.” 

“are you jealous, rin rin?”

“what is there to be jealous of?” 

he doesn’t see isagi as a threat. someone as small as him would never make it into the real world. he would have been the first person to be devoured by a witch. cruel or not, the thought holds true in rin’s mind.

“then nothing will change. i will still be your meister and you’re my weapon,” a laugh escapes her throat, “so don’t worry about anyone else.” 

peeling away from his grip, he almost has half a heart to chase after her. walking ahead, (name) stops just a few feet in front of him. rin pauses instantly. eyes peering down at her with a flicker of a spark, she gives him a familiar smile he knows all too well. 

she opens her arms out to him, like a bird ready to soar. 

“because i will be the only one to turn you into a death weapon.” 

her sentimental words settle in his chest. like a blanket, it drapes over his beating organ. blood soaking the cloth, it helplessly merges together. for a moment, he wonders if this is what he’s been searching for all along, or if it was just another trap used to lure him into her arms.

he presses his lips together. walking three steps forward, rin carefully wraps his arms around her tightly. he wants to ignore the beating of his heart in his ears. he wants to forget that when he presses himself close to her, everything feels safe. 

he inhales with his entire chest, sinking into her warmth as if she’d disappear any second.

✦

the first thing rin hears in the morning is humming. the alarm clock next to him says its eight o’clock in the morning and that its time to get up. rubbing the sleep off his eyes, he creeps downstairs to the smell of pancakes. his meister stands in the center of controlled chaos. pancake batter mixed in one bowl, a blender full of fruits and what he assumes to be his protein powder. the kitchen looks like a battleground with a lone soldier in the center, chiming a tune while pouring batter into a pan.

“good morning, rin rin.” you announce, looking over your shoulder, “can you set the table?” 

he wordlessly obeys, too early in the morning to give a proper response. he reaches over to the tall cabinet and takes a few plates from the top. placing two on the counter next to you before leaving to gather forks and knives. 

he briefly turns in your direction, watching as you’re stacking pancakes on his plate. the scene is awfully domestic as it is comfortable. and the more he thinks about this homely arrangement, the more uneasy the feeling in his stomach gets. the first thing that comes to mind is whether or not you’ve had similar experiences with your previous partners. 

he knows he is not your first and he might not even be your last. while he isn’t the kind of person to mull over someone else’s words, specially if that person is shidou, what he said still rings clear in his head. there was some kind of history between you and the antenna-head that he wanted to know. perhaps out of curiosity. maybe out of a sickly emotion he is forced to call worry. 

setting down two plates and a cup in front of him, you both sit down in silence. while you drowned your pancakes in syrup, rin likes his with a small cube of butter and a light drizzling of honey. not too sweet but not plain either. 

he comes up with a list of things you do that are totally opposite to him. from the smile on your face to the permanent scowl on his, or the way you start your mornings with a sugary breakfast, it all reminds him of how different you are to him. and although he may be cold and honest, you were a mixture of three things: warm, inviting, and worst of all, incredibly enigmatic. 

he wishes he could go into your mind and understand the world through your eyes.

“you’re thinking hard about something,” alongside your sticky, syrupy pancakes, you cut through his thoughts, “care to tell your partner?”

using his knife, he flicks the butter around his plate. it slides across the warm, pillowy pancake, leaving behind a golden layer. he presses his lips together, unsure of what to say. he would rather die than say anything related to his feeble emotions. but he just can’t help it. not when you’re looking at him with eyes that could melt him like ice cream on a hot summer day.

“what is your relationship to shidou?”

he hears the same hum once more, the sound trailing upwards as if you caught a funny joke, “there wasn’t anything between us. he was my partner before i met you.”

“so i’ve heard.”

he stabs through his stack of pancakes, carefully picking apart any small movements in your face. unlike his relationship with sae, you treated your partnership so casually, as if saying you’ll be together for life was just fishing bait. he thinks you were just nothing but a partner to shidou. someone he could use to channel his explosive attitude. but the more he considers it, the more it feels like it was the other way around. 

he only knows a few things about you. 

one, you are a special case amongst other meisters at the dwma academy. on your first trial mission with him, supervised by ego and a nurse named anri, he noted the way your wavelength constantly fluctuated to accommodate for his movements. while some people might describe their wavelength relationship to be like walking on three legs, being with you made it feel closer to two, and that he was the one in control. fighting with you was completely different from sae. although you were both calm and collected meisters with an unprecedented amount of talent, being with you made him feel lighter than air.

it was easy for you to wield any weapon in the school with this kind of skill. and while powerful in itself, it still needed a weapon to be channeled. this led to you having a multitude of partners throughout the years, with shidou being one of many, and rin being your most recent addition. 

two, you like food sweet enough to rot your teeth. this was picked up after living with you. from afternoon teas to late night drinks underneath the moon, you preferred your life to be sweeter than candy. after every mission, you made it a habit to take a piece of candy from your pocket, handing it off to him like a child who didn’t cry at the dentist. 

he typically found cabinets full of store bought candy you used your hard earnings on. he thought it was a waste of money until one fateful night. after a hard day of fighting kishin after kishin, you gave him the same strawberry candy you carried in your pocket. although it should have been nothing out of the ordinary, laying on the ground, heaving because of exhaustion. with your hand grazing his, the sweet taste of strawberries was the greatest distraction from his hammering heart. 

three, you have a strange fascination with him. this fact was more puzzling than the last two mentioned. your love for him was unexplainable. oddly palpable, even. it overflowed into everything you touched. from the ways you held his hand, to the charms you forced, but never fought against, on his wrist. you were loving in ways he couldn’t understand. it was nothing like the love he felt from sae. 

where his older brother was obligated in one way or another to take care of him, you did so without a second thought. when he is in your arms, you’re kind and gentle. you don’t whip him around, expecting him to follow up your perfect movements. you don’t chide him for not being fast enough. you don’t scorn him for not being good enough. and most importantly of all, you love him despite all the flaws that litter him.

it keeps rin from sinking into the black pool that plagues the depths of his mind. the same one that has him questioning when everything will come crashing down. just counting the seconds before it all gets taken away from him. 

“what happened between you and him?” 

you turn to him, “things didn’t work out.” your answer was simple, like he expected. he doesn’t know whether or not to be annoyed with himself for being right, or you for being too easy to read. “decided on a whim i wanted a new partner.”

“thats it?”

raising your eyebrow, you chuckle, “is there something you want to know, rin?” 

your voice trickles down on him like honey. it coats his throat, silencing any words he prepared on a silver platter for you. he feels he’s drowning in your saccharine sweetness. the smell of almonds tethering the line between candy goodness and poisonous danger. it doesn’t help that your laugh is just as sugary as the rest of you.

he bites down on his fork, keeping his eyes averted.

“not really.”

“you’re a bad liar, you know that?”

“there’s nothing to lie about.”

you lean back into your chair, “you want to know more about me and shidou,” balancing a fork on your plate you let it dance around. similarly to a ballerina, the silver utensil slowly spins in place. the individual tongs act as legs as it falls into a hypnotic rhythm. 

“you want to know what it was like, how long we’ve been working together, what jobs we went on,” the clock’s ticking sound seems to have grown louder because its counting down as if it were a bomb in his ears, “and if we lived together, like you and i do.”

wordlessly, he drops his fork, picking up his cup to drink the smoothie you made for him. he wishes you didn’t buy him matching cups from the market because every time he sees it, every thought becomes harder to keep. he wipes away at the corner of his lips, sighing. he hates that you know the exact way he likes his protein shakes. 

from the other side of the table, you revel in what you can only describe as complicated feelings. although nothing has been said, the look of dismissal and embarrassment on his face gave you more than enough information to understand the turmoil in his head. he thinks you’re too good at this. too good at picking apart his expressions, fighting for answers beneath his skin. 

“and?”

“nothing,” your hand waves itself around, “i just thought it was cute of you to ask.”

with your slumped figure, you drag your foot across the wooden floor, coming dangerously close to his own leg. he can feel some of the thin hairs on his skin stand up from your sly actions.

“do you want to know?”

“about?”

“me and shidou.”

“are you going to tell me?”

there is a foxy look in your eyes that he can only chalk up to mere amusement.

“i guess there really isn’t much to it. we just became a pair because there wasn’t anyone that liked him enough to be his partner. he marched to the beat of his own drum.” you hum, chewing on your food slow and tentatively, “we did a lot of private jobs given to us by the headmaster. something similar to the ones your brother went on.”

like a moth to a flame, he’s hooked onto the last part of your sentence. with just the slightest mention, only for a second, his entire body flamed up like a fever waiting to burst. 

“what were they?”

“can’t say. it’s been a while.” your plain response causes him to kick your shin from underneath the table. your left eye winces but you continue eating, nonetheless, “it was odd kishin jobs that were harder than the ones you see in the academy. nothing too remarkable or memorable.”

you pause for a second, mulling over your words, “it’s a blurry mess. i don’t remember that much from it, other than the fact that i saw sae once or twice.” blinking once, your eyes trail upwards in rin’s direction, “did your brother change because of these jobs?” 

“how do you know about that?”

“...sometimes you mumble in your sleep.” 

suddenly the frustrated expression on his face fades to humiliation. rin quickly turns his head away, finishing his food quickly and swallowing the last of his drink, all the while you carried a cheeky grin. whatever comes out of your mouth afterwards has his anger fizzing away entirely.

“you drool too.”

“stop talking already.” he has the urge to slap a hand over your mouth, praying that you’d stop talking about useless topics.

“you don’t think its cute?”

“you expect me to think drooling is cute? its gross.” 

“don’t be like that rin rin.” getting up from your seat, you skip your way towards him.

wrapping your arms around his neck, you squeeze him tightly to your chest. his heart immediately flat lines at your touch. your hug is warm and all encapsulating. infectious and sickly, just like those pancakes. he hates being in your arms because everything from the dull pain in his wrist to the soreness in his lower back eases away. washed away like sand on his feet. 

“i think its cute when you do it.”

having weaseled your way into his life, you’re like a constant stream of water. while difficult to read at times, he wants to say he knows you better than anyone else. correction, he wants to know more about you. he wants to know why you’re here, digging your claws into him underneath this shared roof. from the way you carry yourself to what exactly brought you to dwma in the first place. he wants to unravel the strings that weave you into the person you are today.

even though he wants to push you away from the thorns that adorn his heart, he wants to pull you even closer, and say that you’ll be his forever. not only as his meister but a partner he could use to become better. 

because thats the kind of relationship he always yearned for but could never say out loud. 

in his weapon form, you’re the only thing pulling him back from the black blood of madness that tempts him every night. he pushes and you pull. swaying one way as you follow. a perfect balance between partners of similar wavelengths.

he is scared something will tip the scales. its a quiet fear that bubbles in the pits of his stomach. tucked away underneath hundreds of layers of bandages around his heart. he wants to say he hates you just so you don’t hurt yourself on the way out. he wants to tell you to stop making his protein shakes in the morning because he doesn’t want you to stay any longer than you should. he wants to push you away when you hold him at night because it makes him want to puke his guts out to you.

yet all of those words don’t mean anything in the end. not in the universe that you’ve nested him in. 

so despite these minutes feeling too intimate and almost gum-like in the way it sticks to him, he can’t find the right muscles to run away. he doesn’t know if he wants to. he’s drawn to your presence just like everyone else in your life, stuck within your orbit within arms reach. this relationship he shares with you is so incredibly complicated that its far from lukewarm.

he swallows before asking, lacing uncertainty through his words, “what color is my soul?” 

tightening the hold around him, you lean in closer, drawing your hand down his chest. he sees the silver pendant on your wrist as it dangles and clammers with a light ‘clink’ noise. he believes his heart and soul might be opposite colors, the latter being an ugly shade of red.

“it’s blue.” 

resting his head against yours, he breathes in your scent as your heart rate steadies alongside his. if things get too comfortable, he might end up transforming back into his weapon form to keep you from seeing the redness in his ears.

“really?”

“mhm,” his ears perk up at your mumbling voice, “you have a very pure-hearted soul.” 

“even after everything?” 

“despite everything.” 

reaching out with your hand, you turn his head towards you. he instinctively leans into your touch. his teal eyes finally make contact with yours after what seemed to be a long, drawn out breakfast. the expression on your face makes him feel like he’s going to melt into the lovesick slobs he’s seen on numerous television shows. it makes the syrup on his plate all the more sticky and gross.

“its the prettiest i’ve ever seen.” 

you drop your arm, gliding it across his body. it drags from his shoulders to his biceps, to the lower part of his elbow, and ending at the silver jewelry adorning both your wrists. a skull pendant, gifted to him the first day you became partners. a rather simple accessory that weighs heavy on him.

turning his palm over, he lets you intertwine your fingers with his. a soft mutter of your name dancing on the tip of his tongue. 

“we’ll be partners, forever.”

✦

after breakfast, rin doesn’t think too much about your relationship with shidou. perhaps to some extent, he drowned it in the back of his mind, focusing on finishing his daily yoga and meditation before the day officially starts. 

while he was fixed at the center of the living room, having pushed the coffee table off to the side, you sat on the couch with a book in your hands. it was normal for the two of you to stay indoors during your day off. unless there needed to be some kind of shopping done to refill the fridge, you’d laze around in the bedroom or living room. you’d oftentimes kick your feet up when you’re laying on your stomach, something he had found terribly bad for his heart, finally getting to the books you’ve been putting off reading.

before the coffee gets cold, he remembers buying you the rest of the series from your local bookstore after you expressed interest in it. the concept of the story was relatively simple: you can go back in time as long as the coffee stays warm. you’ve asked him before what he would do if he could go back in time, but the only thing that comes to mind is wanting to fight sae.

he exhales slowly. work is tiring and never ending. the shinigami’s list was always growing and there will always be time to do them later, is what you always say.

out of the corner of his eye, the mirror in your living room space warps as your professor connects with you on the other line, tapping on the reflective surface. ego peers into the room, eyes dry like fish. alongside rin, the two of you sit up straight. rin is leaning his back against the seat of the couch with your right knee lightly touching his right shoulder.

“good morning,” he claps his hands together, “do you have time to talk about your recent progress?”

rin rolls his eyes, “you’ve already called us on our day off. what is it that you need?”

ego narrows his eyes but continues talking, “congratulations on reaching the halfway point. you only need forty-three more souls until you’re getting closer to becoming a death weapon, itoshi rin.” this sparks another huff from the man, “i assume based on the look on your face, you think you’re ready to become death’s weapon. is that correct?”

“of course i am, did you come here to lecture me about something i already know? or will you tell me something useful,” rin says with upmost confidence, “whatever comes our way, i’ll kill it.”

“i assumed you’d say that. and you’d be right. out of everyone in your class, the two of you might be the first ones to get a witch’s soul. i’m not here to tell you what to do,” ego leans forward in his chair. 

“only that with this new milestone comes challenges that will have you considering taking risks and sacrifices.” 

“what are you getting at?”

“you both already know about the influx of kishin souls roaming the city.these are much harder than  than the ones you’ve been running into recently. if you lose to any one of them, it means certain death for you both. but that is not the only thing you need to worry about,” using a projection, he opens his hand to show you a small diagram of a woman. she floats right above his open palm, broomstick and all. “witches are beginning to notice you, making you a prime target for pickings.”

“and although you might not be ready to face one yet, the possibility of encountering one is high.” 

before rin can say anything, possibly to rebut ego’s assumptions, you squeeze his shoulder with one hand. he looks up at you, eyes widening a millimeter when he sees an unfamiliar, dark shadow over your eyes. 

witches were another kind of monster. there were a lot of them, possibly a lot more than the dwma can ever consider. and while some of them may be weak, it still leaves out a large group of highly capable magic users out of the picture. they’re immensely powerful, so much so that consuming only one witch soul is enough to fully transform a weapon into a tool of mass destruction.

ego looks over to you, “have you made any progress on your soul resonance?”

when you shake your head, his frown deepens. “i see,” scratching the back of his neck he drones, “so you’ve yet to unlock each others full potential despite being partners for two years. that is an awfully long time,” he narrows his eyes, flickering from you and rin, “i hope to see something.”

“before i sign off, i need to tell you one more thing.”

“what else is there?” rin barks.

“madness,” ego says, “there will be madness coming your way.”

rin blinks. madness. he’s heard it in passing. every living thing, meisters and weapons alike, have a special force living inside of them. not only does it control your emotions, but it could influence personal strength as well, making it an important playing card to any fight. 

a small percentage of people have the power to control their madness using wavelength. this in turn, could also awaken someone else’s madness within them.

“if you were to possibly tap into this, understand that there will be sacrifices made. whether it be your life or someone elses,” he grimaces, “it is a double-edged sword. so consider the life of your meister, itoshi rin.” 

“whatever you say.”

ego doesn’t look surprised, knowing to some intent this was the kind of personality he was setting up from the beginning. regardless, your professor sends you one last look, one that has you tensing up in your seat, fingers grasping onto the cushion of the couch.

he mouths a few words: a witch is coming for you.

a shiver runs down your spine. like a spike it drives itself deep into your heart and out from the other side of your chest, letting you to bleed out helplessly like a doe. 

ego officially signs off for the day. your living room mirror goes back to its usual dull appearance. unlike you, rin wasn’t bothered at all by ego’s words. if anything, he felt more determined than ever to continue fighting. if this newfound power could be weaponized, perhaps it will give him the edge he needed to surpass sae. when he glances back at you, the veins in his fingers tensed.

that night, you sleep with your back turned, leaving his arms bare and cold. its relatively quiet if not for the crow pecking at the window, looking into the bedroom as you held your head, a tremble raking down your bones.

[xmads-omensx]

Not sure if I can request things but if you would be willing. Could you write Noah in an established relationship and maybe his girl is a part of the crew and like mid tour he starts to notice that she starts sleeping a lot when she never sleeps during the day and then her standing by the barricades snapping pics of her and fainting. Thank you so much!

Word Count: 1,531

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X reader

Content Warnings: fainting, mentions of exhaustion, established relationship, swearing, fluff, mentions of burn out, mentions of hospitals

Tags: @shayeanna-ashlie @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @supersquirrel1996 @dontwantthemoney @tosoundlessdarkistare @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @klutzy-kay24 @heyyoplayer @lacy1986 @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @chey-h @thisbicc @fadingangelwisp @heyyoplayer @dsireland86 @missduffsblog @overmydeadbodysblog @dominuslunae @littlebear423 @blade-dressed-in-red @rumoured-whispers @kait16xo @eclipseeetop @xxkittenkissesxx @theanarchymuse95 @blackveilomens @lilgarbitch @lil-garbitch @concretejunglefm

I had been touring with Noah for as long as I could remember.

It was how we met.

Matt had hired me originally as his assistant tour manager, before shifting me to be Bryan’s assistant as well as remaining as Matts assistant when he discovered my passion for photography.

Whilst touring with Bad Omens, I developed feelings for Noah very rapidly, as he did the same towards me.

It was a lot of awkward skirting around eachother as we flirted like high school children, both too afraid to actually admit how we felt towards eachother out of the pure fear that the other didn’t feel the same way.

In fact, it was Matt who had forced us together in the end.

He had sent Noah and I to get some cables from the bus individually, forcing us to be alone, when Bryan pushed the two of us into the back of the van, refusing to free us until we admitted how we felt.

We have been happily together ever since.

After that, touring became a lot more bearable considering the fact that I was doing it with the person I loved more than anything else in the world.

The Australia tour was something that I had been really looking forward to, mainly since I had never been there before. I was sick the last time that Bad Omens played there, so I had to sit it out, which had not been enjoyable for anybody since the guys had to put up with Noah’s whining and Bryan and Matt had to do double the work.

Matt and I had met up about three months prior to the tour beginning in order to make the adequate preparations and make sure that everything was in order before we all made the insanely long journey down under.

It was a long and arduous process, making sure the appropriate flights and hotel rooms had been booked, then organising fun things for the guys to do on their off days all while editing photos that I had taken for another band that I had just toured with as their photographer.

My workload was most definitely a lot more than I was used to, but it was a challenge that I embraced with wide open arms since I felt insanely lucky to be in the position that I was in.

Noah had been a massive help as Matt and I prepared for the tour.

He took on my chores on top of his own to balance out my workload, he ran errands for me that I didn’t quite have time to run and was an overall incredible help whilst I prepped.

When the time came to actually go on said tour, Noah was a stressed wreck, which was expected when going on any tour that Bad Omens did, especially when it was the first tour back from their break due to Noah’s burn-out.

I had made sure everybody was all packed and ready to go, making extra sure that Noah knew that I had triple checked both of our luggage.

The flight had gone smoothly, with me napping for most of it, which had admittedly shocked Noah since I notoriously could not get to sleep on planes, but it was a great sleep so I wasn’t going to complain.

“Baby, we’re here.” Noah had whispered with a kiss on my forehead as we landed in Melbourne for the first few shows of the tour.

I awoke groggy, but happy to see my boyfriend’s face smiling down at me.

Strangely, I still felt tired despite having slept for most of the flight. Assuming it was just jetlag getting to me, I went about starting to prepare the first show of the short tour.

Matt and I met up at a nearby café to discuss last minute arrangements for the first show. We went over the visuals, the timings, the pyro and pretty much anything and everything in-between.

I could barely hide the exhaustion on my face as we worked.

“Hey, are you okay?” Matt asked with a concerned expression.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. I’ve never flown that far before.” I replied with a weak laugh.

“Oh dude tell me about it.” He sighed, taking his cap off and running his hand through his hair before replacing the cap back on his head. “I mean, I’m pretty much done with you here, so why don’t you go and find Bryan and talk about what his plan is?”

“Sounds good.” I said with a laugh, standing up and patting his shoulder before leaving the café and returning to the hotel.

Bryan was hanging out with Noah and Nicholas in the hotel room that Noah and I were sharing. I could hear their laughter from the hallway as I got closer and closer.

“Hey idiot.” Nicholas sighed when I walked through the door.

“Hey!” Noah scolded, throwing the pillow that he held over his lap at his best friend’s head.

I laughed at their behaviour before sitting on the small sofa next to Bryan.

We began to go over our plan for the tour as Noah and Nicholas continued hitting eachother with pillows and laughing at eachother.

“So I will go behind the guys, and you go just in front of the barricade, that way we cover all bases.” Bryan said, but his voice had begun to grow quieter in my ears.

A hand brushed my shoulder. It was Bryan.

“You okay, Y/N?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing with concern.

“Yeah, just tired.” I replied, stifling a yawn.

“Alright, everybody out.” Noah demanded, standing up and hitting Bryan on the back of the head with the pillow he had been hitting Nicholas with.

The two other men stood up and shuffled out of the room, leaving Noah and I alone.

“Wanna sleep?” He asked, gently cupping the side of my face and stroking it with his thumb.

“I think a little nap will help me out.” I sighed, kissing his palm, making him smile.

Noah pulled away from me and pulled the duvet back on the bed, getting it ready for me to crawl in and finally get some sleep.

The first few dates of the tour had been like that.

We would arrive at the city, I would take a nap, then we would do the show.

It was a cycle that had been concerning Noah more and more since I never usually napped during the day.

Noah had been urging me to go see a doctor whilst we were on tour, but obviously I didn’t want to listen to him.

He had a tendency to be overprotective and overbearing at times when it came to both touring and my health.

It all came to a head one night on the tour when I was by the barricade taking photos like I did every night, when suddenly my head began to spin and my eyes became blurry.

I could no longer hear the music as the venue faded to black around me, enveloping me in a pitch black void.

When I awoke, bright LED lights practically blinded me.

I tried to sit up, but my body wouldn’t let me.

No, scratch that.

A heavy body lay over half of my torso.

A dark-haired head lay on my chest, rising and falling slightly along with my breaths.

Noah.

I reached my hand up and stroked his hair away from his face gently.

He stirred and looked up at me with worried eyes, before lunging up and engulfing me in a crushing bear hug.

“I was so worried about you!” He exclaimed into my hair.

I didn’t know what to say, so I settled for pulling him in closer.

“The doctors think that you’re burned out and exhausted. You’ve been working yourself too hard with doing assistant tour manager, assistant photographer as well as working for other bands on top of Bad Omens. You need to lighten your workload.” Noah explained.

“But-“ I went to argue but he cut me off.

“I understand you love what you do. Trust me I understand how much this sucks. But you seriously need to slow down. I have been so worried about you all tour, and now you’re in fucking hospital. Let me help you.” Noah pleaded.

“I-“ I tried to argue, but he was right.

I was pushing myself far too much, therefore I was exhausted.

Being burned out explained why I had been sleeping so much on this tour. it explained why I felt so awful constantly.

And worst of all, I had been worrying Noah.

“Fine. I’ll slow down.” I sighed. “But promise me that no one will get mad at me.”

“Baby, nobody is mad at you.” Noah comforted, rubbing my arm with his large hand.

“Really.” I asked quietly.

He simply nodded his head and pulled me into his chest.

“It’s okay, baby, you’re safe with me.” He whispered, kissing the top of my head. “You need to take breaks sometimes, you told me that yourself.”

“Yeah, I guess I did.” I laughed.

Noah always knew exactly what to do or say no matter what the situation was.

He just understood.

[macabrebatz]

Uhm is there a chance that I could request a fic about like... how reader and Bubba Sawyer first met...?

idk how to word request my apologies

HOW YOU MET BUBBA SAWYER

Author’s Note: I could’ve sworn I wrote a “meeting Bubba Sawyer” oneshot in the past but I was wrong. So here you go! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings/tags: Gender neutral reader, you get called pretty once, original timeline TCM characters, no use of (Y/N), Bubba is shy, you get to meet Nubbins & Chop Top as well, this is just short and sweet

The Sawyers had been neighbors to your family for years. Your family lived in a small house down the street from the Sawyer’s house. You were the only other family that lived on the street for miles. Before you had even been born your parents had become good acquaintances with the family but never close enough to call them friends. When you were younger, your family would share produce grown from their garden with the family and occasionally your father would help fix a truck for them. But other than that your families barely interacted.

The Sawyers were secretive, to say the least. The only one you had officially met was Drayton, who ran the old run-down gas station in town.

You would come into the store ever so often to pick up basic things that you or your family needed. There weren’t many close stores so you often opted into going into the little station. Drayton was always pleased to see you. He was a kind old man although he seemed a bit odd. He often would mention his brothers and how he thought you should meet them.

“Bubba would like you. I know he would. He’s too shy though. Barely ever comes out of that house,” he said one day.

You leaned on the counter as he counted out your change.

“For as long as I’ve been living down the road, I’m surprised I haven’t met him yet,” you mumbled.

You had caught glimpses of the brothers over the years, usually when you were walking by. But you didn’t know which one was which and you were too shy to just go up to their house and meet them. And apparently, they were the same way.

Drayton handed you your change. You took it and your items off the counter. He picked up a copy of the local newspaper and began reading. You said your goodbyes and began to leave the store but stopped to read a flyer on the window. It was an advertisement for an annual chili cook-off. Under the entry details, it had Drayton’s name as last year’s winner.

“Chili cook-off, huh? Are you competing again?” you asked.

“Mhm,” Drayton hummed as he flipped through the newspaper.

“Well, good luck,” you said.

You opened the door but were quickly stopped by Drayton calling you back.

“You just reminded me. Did your family grow any tomatoes this year? I need some for the cook-off,” he asked.

“Oh, yeah. I can bring over some this afternoon,” you said.

“Thank you. Maybe you’ll finally get to meet some of my family,” he said.

You nodded and walked out the door. As you walked home you couldn't help but feel a bit nervous. You had always wondered what the rest of the Sawyers were like and you were finally going to find out.

You headed to the garden once you got home. You filled up a small basket with tomatoes and added a few other vegetables just because.

As the sun started to set you grabbed your basket and began the short walk down the road. You could see down the long dirt driveway that Drayton was home.

You went up the stairs of the front porch and knocked on the door. Drayton opened it and ushered you in.

“Come in, come in. It ain’t much but it’s home,” he chuckled.

You could hear in a back room what sounded like arguing.

“Give me a second.”

Drayton sighed and walked towards the sound, disappearing into the house.

You stood by the stairs and looked around. The house was as you expected it to be. It was a small, two-story farmhouse. A small smile crept on your face as you wandered into the dining room and placed the basket on the table.

“Get it together. We have company,” you heard Drayton’s voice say from another room.

After a couple of minutes, Drayton appeared once more followed by two lanky men. One had dark hair and a large birthmark on his face. The other wore what you could only assume was a wig and purple sunglasses.

“These are the twins. Nubbins and Chop Top. Say hello,” Drayton ordered them.

They both grumbled short greetings. Nubbins even shook your hand. You introduced yourself and smiled at them. Neither seemed particularly happy at the moment but you brushed it aside.

“Where’s your brother?” Drayton asked Chop Top.

“I don’t know. I don’t keep up with him,” Chop Top mumbled.

“Go find him and bring him here,” Drayton said.

Chop Top grumbled something about licking his plate under his breath as he wandered off, going through a sliding door by the stairs.

After a couple of minutes of having very peculiar Polaroids shoved in your face by Nubbins, you heard heavy footsteps coming towards the dining room.

Chop Top reappeared this time followed by a large man who had his covered by some sort of mask. His eyes darted quickly towards you and he retreated behind the door frame, peeking out just a bit.

“Bubba, come here. This is our guest. They live down the road. Have been for years now,” Drayton said.

Bubba barely took a step forward, turning his face away from you and his brothers.

“He’s shy,” Nubbins giggled.

“Bubba’s afraid of the pretty neighbor,” Chop Top teased.

You took a step forward, reaching your hand out towards the man.

“Nice to meet you,” you said in a quiet voice.

Bubba’s head shifted ever so slightly to look at you. He reached out his hand, quickly grasping yours and shaking it before pulling away.

“You’re not gonna get much out of this one. Not yet at least. He’s gotta warm up to you,” Drayton said, patting Bubba on the shoulder.

“Well, I should be heading back home,” you said, glancing at the clock on the wall.

“Thank you for inviting me over. It was nice meeting all of you. Enjoy the veggies,” you said.

“See ya later,” Chop Top said.

“Come over anytime,” Drayton said as you headed out the door.

You turned around and for a second through the screen door, you could see Bubba give you a small wave. You smiled, waving back before you stepped off the porch and headed home.

[ghouljams]

ur response to the why c.ai is bad was so beautifully worded I love your brain so much. Sooooo intelligent and eloquently worded!

Genuinely it is because I rely on my own abilities over ai.

Ai is not a tool or a crutch, tools and crutches actually help people to live their lives in a way that is fulfilling and meaningful to them. Ai is like those hover chairs in Wall-e, and I even hesitate to go that far because even in Wall-E the original concept of the chair was to help people who couldn't walk get around.

Yeah ai is really easy to just plug a prompt into, and it's really easy to just sit in the hover chair and let it carry you to food while you watch tv. But eventually your muscles atrophy and your brain stops thinking critically, and all you care about is getting what you want when you want it.

Why would I write an essay when ai can just do it for me? Because it's not about the essay being written it's about teaching you to write and think critically about a topic.

Why would I write a fic when I can just go to c.ai and have the ai character talk to me? Because writing isn't about the end result it's about finding ways to be creative and learning things about yourself in the process. It's about noticing recurring themes in your work, it's about submerging yourself in your own thoughts, it's about connecting to other people.

Why would I learn to draw when I can have ai do it for me? Because learning a skill isn't just about doing the skill well, it's about working muscles and thoughts you didn't have before. It's about finding other people who share your interests and making friends. It's about finding beauty in the world where you didn't see it before. It's about learning for the sake of bettering yourself, finding something you want to do and doing it even though it's hard.

Why would I improve myself if ai- Because improving yourself is worth the effort that it takes. Because you're worth working on. Because you are a human and humans are made to learn things. Because it satisfies an itch in the back of your brain from when you were a monkey staring at the stars. Because one day when you're old someone will ask you what you did with your life and if all you did was rely on ai to make things for you then the answer will be "nothing"

[thenwhatthefukcisthis]

that inception darling gun scene is so insane like normally if it's a rival relationship after eames shown off his big ass gun arthur should have done the same (show off his dream skill) because that's how every rival relationship works, they compete with each other but what arthur did was act surprised, made an impressive look, oh his gay ass was smitten with eames so much like your plan didn't go smoothly, you missed the target, and you panicked a bit but then you have this hot british men helping you by pulling out his big imaginary gun and calling you darling and suddenly everything seems to be better, no wonder why he was the one hooking the iv for eames during the second dream stage instead of cobb in the original screenplay because that's his boyfriend, his pookie, his future partner

Nonnie you are SO right! And hii!

Yes, like you said, this easily could’ve been a dick measuring contest (tbh, on paper, it is! even with the darling bit, cause when sometimes when you add piece like “sweetie, hon, dear”, with the right amount of contempt, it can turn very hostile)

but while the darling (everyone say thank you Tom hardy) did add the cherry on top and was the final push over the edge, the reason why the line will go down as the gayest moment in cinema is all of the other little bits ; ramble under the cut :)

1. Like you correctly said, the priceless reaction of arthur (everyone say thank you JGL) for eames pulling out his big ass gun.

Had he done the same face he did when eames kicked his chair or given his bitchface of specificity, or like stared at eames with “oh my god you are better at this than me”, the scene would’ve been basically a dudebro moment. a waste of space and time.

instead, he kept his arthur face on (once again, thank you JGL for not blushing and giggling when a sexy British guy calls you darling) and delivered a mixture of a admiration ok cool and that was pretty darn hot and familiarity that’s my eames for you, always saving the day and a grudging but fond thanks you for having my back and saving my ass.

2. The moment leading up to it. oh there’s a beautiful piece by @mister-eames which I will link if I can find it, how in that particular moment, is so important in the sense that, it follows right after a very stressful moment. Arthur had been shouted at and singled out it was your responsibility this was not supposed to happen we were not prepared for this for possibly running the entire mission and killing a billionaire and putting everyone is danger and even if it was cobbs fault , it was still obvious that if arthur had known about the subconscious, things would’ve been much smoother.

And the way Arthur said sorry (once again, thank you JGL, you sublime sob) was so heartbreaking that he owned up to his mistake and was truly sorry (in contrast to yusufs nonchalance and cobbs reluctance guilt of drugging everyone w/o consent. So it’s not hard to imagine that arthur was beating himself up and was shouldering the responsibility of getting everyone out as much as he can. that’s why he was putting his sanity on line by firing.

And eames coming in, delivering a smooth line which is akin to their usual banter with a endearing name thrown out and while eames could’ve smirked or winked or scoffed by one upping his coworker, instead choosing to come in and leave without a big fanfare (again, thank you mr hardy for being you) , just offering a silent support you did your best I don’t blame you I’m with you added so much to that scene, which made that dialogue birth thousands of fics and and fanarts.

in short, we need inception 2: arthur and eames

[sensitivepluto]

Rooftop Bliss

Short & Sweet - Day 1: Oh. Oh.

Megumi Fushiguro x Gn! Reader

TW: none really, mention of injury, tooth-rotting fluff.

So for this month I'm going to try to do @thewritingstar's Short & Sweet prompt list! I haven't decided if I'm going to do multiple fandoms yet so we'll see!

Here's the link to the original post

It was a breezy night when Megumi Fushiguro snuck away to climb atop the rooftop of the dorms after a completed mission. This wasn't his first time doing this, as he enjoyed getting away from the chaos of Jujutsu even if just for a moment. A gentle sigh escaped his lips as he started to lose himself in the starry sky. Of course he didn't expect to be alone for long. Every time he'd decided to come up here, you had a way of figuring it out. Not that he minded. Actually, he'd come to deeply appreciate your company.

And just like clockwork, he heard the familiar sound of you making your way to him on the roof.

"Hey." You spoke softly, carefully crawling up to him. A small smile graced his lips when you joined him, and he ignored the slight increase of his heart rate.

"Hey." He said, watching you adjust yourself into a criss-cross. "Did I wake you?" You shook your head.

"I wasn't asleep. Besides today was particularly rough so I figured you'd be up here." A hum left his lips in response.

"When did you get back from Shoko's?" Megumi questioned. Even in the starlight he could see the embarrassed sheen on your face at the mention of Shoko. During the mission you fumbled managed to get yourself impaled through the arm. The whole ordeal was embarrassing and you were ashamed to have gotten hit so easily.

"A little bit ago. You know it wasn't anything major." You waved off. He rolled his eyes at your dismissiveness. He'd never tell you, but he worried whenever you got hurt. He couldn't figure out why. Other mission partners of his have gotten hurt in the past, so why was it so hard to watch when you did? The question lingered in his mind for so long he didn't even realize he was staring you down.

"Megumi? Earth to Megumi, are you in there?" You snapped him out of it, waving you hand in front of his face. A slight blush crept onto his face at the realization.

"Oh. Sorry. Lost in thought..." He mumbled, turning his gaze away from you. You giggled and looked up at the stars.

"They're beautiful tonight." You hummed mindfully. Megumi looked up at the stars and nodded in agreement. For some reason tonight's sky yielded many more stars than usual. He once again turned his gaze toward you and his breath caught in his throat.

In the starlight your eye's shone with a brightness he'd never seen before. Your hair rippled against the breeze and the smile radiated an unfamiliar feeling in his chest. It felt like he was going to burst and when you finally turned to look at him with those eyes he'd come to...

oh.

oh.

"Beautiful..." He muttered with a wide, almost panicked look on his face. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, blush now creeping onto your own face. It was like his body was being possessed at this point. Pure instinct had him reaching for you and cupping your cheek delicately in his hand.

"Megumi..." Your words almost died on your tongue. An unspoken flurry of feeling bringing the two of you closer together. "A-are we still talking about the stars?" He rolled his eyes and pulled you into him, his hands cupping your jaw as his lips finally made contact with your own. A small gasp left you before you relaxed into him and reciprocated the kiss.

Megumi had never realized how much he'd wanted this. The feeling of your soft lips against his. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling you both closer together. When the two of you finally parted, simply for the lack of oxygen, he rested his forehead against yours.

He finally understood it. The worry and anger when you got hurt. The uncontrollable palpitations in his chest whenever you came near. The inability to think clearly whenever it came to you. All just side affects of the feeling he now craved more of.

[diazsdimples]

Buck is going to throw up. Probably. The panic attack is barely being kept in place as he flings himself from the driver’s seat of the jeep and races up the stairs of the Diaz house.

“Maddie!” he yells, kicking his shoes to the side and throwing off his jacket. Usually he’d knock but today, it’s an emergency. His brain isn’t working, not even considering the fact that he might be waking up his 3-month-old nephew as he powers through the house calling his sister’s name. “Maddie, are you home?”

“In here!” his sister’s voice echoes down the hall, originating from the kitchen. He finds her making lunch, the baby strapped to her chest in a muslin wrap, like a little joey in his mother’s pouch.

God, she’s glowing like this. She’d had a rough start, postpartum depression rearing its head in the first few weeks, but she’s seeing a therapist, and Eddie’s managed to negotiate some time off work. She still has bad days, but on the whole, she seems happier. Lighter.

Her brow furrows as she takes in his dishevelled appearance, and her hand comes up to cup the back of the baby’s head.

“Evan? What’s going on?”

Buck does a quick scan of their surroundings – they seem to be alone in the kitchen at least, but he needs to know if they’re alone in the house. He can’t do this if there’s a chance someone will walk in and interrupt.

“I-Is Eddie home?”

“No, he’s out getting Benjamin some new diapers. Why?”

“Good, I just – you can’t tell him what I’m about to tell you. You promise?”

Maddie’s brow furrows and she rounds the kitchen island, taking Buck’s arm and leading him into the lounge. She unwraps Benjamin and carefully places him in his bassinet before turning and giving Buck her full attention.

“Are you in trouble?”

God, isn’t that the question?

“No! I mean, yes? Maybe? Probably. Eddie’s going to kill me, at least.” Buck scrubs a rough hand over his face, hoping the slight sting will clear his head a little.

“I feel like a bit of context wouldn’t go amiss here,” Maddie comments with a raised eyebrow, her arms crossed across her chest. She looks decidedly unimpressed, and honestly, Buck can’t blame her. He’d be a bit annoyed if she burst into his house, announced something was wrong, and then proceeded to be extremely cryptic about it all.

“Adriana’s pregnant,” he blurts out before his courage wanes, and holy fuck, it’s one thing to know and a whole other thing to admit out loud.

Maddie’s expression pulls into one of confusion, and Buck can practically see the cogs turning in her head as she tries to connect the dots.

“Adriana’s…. pregnant?” she repeats slowly, and he nods. He feels like he’s swallowed a ball of lead, and there’s sweat trickling down between his shoulder blades, prickling his skin. “And what does that, uh, what does that have to do with you?”

Right. This part, admittedly, will be worse to reveal. This is where the disowning and being thrown bodily from the home of his sister and his best friend will come in. Buck is regretting a lot of choices right about now.

“A-Adriana and I, we’ve – uh – we’ve been, um, sleeping together, kind of.”

Maddie’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline, and Buck slouches a little further into the couch, making himself small.

“Kind of?” Maddie echoes, incredulous. “How do you ‘kind of’ sleep with someone. Did you trip and fall into her vagina?”

“Jesus, okay it’s not kind of, we are sleeping together. And now she’s pregnant and – fucking hell Maddie, I’m so screwed. I’ve fucked up.”

His sister looks less than impressed, and that makes Buck’s stomach roil. He feels sick, so so sick that he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“And I presume that’s why you don’t want me to tell Eddie this?”

“He’ll kill me, Mads! Please, you can’t tell him. He doesn’t even know that –”

“That you fucked his sister?” Maddie cuts in.

“Hey, don’t say it like that!” Buck says, affronted. “He fucked my sister too, by the way. First!”

“He’s my husband! That’s different!”

“He wasn’t when you started!”

Maddie holds up her hands in surrender, glancing nervously at Benjamin as he stirs in his crib. His little face screws up and he lets out a tiny whine that burrows deep into Buck’s chest, igniting a dormant protective instinct that only flares up when he’s around helpless creatures.

“Give me a second.” Maddie crosses the room and lifts her son into her arms, pressing a kiss to the soft hair on his head. He squirms in her arms, shifting and stretching before eventually settling back down. With a fond smile, Maddie makes her way back to the couch and holds the baby out for Buck to take, which he willingly does.

[auguryofjellyfish]

‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Everything felt fine, when I was half of a pair.

speculative character study on Hasegawa, his inner life, mentality, social issues, and connections.

applicable as of day 24, 2nd day of Chapter 4.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[The World]

Hasegawa Ken is in love with the World.

His entire being is of service to appreciating every single detail of it.

It's a complex sort of love. A calm and quiet constant, but also energizing and jittery at times. It thrums beneath his skin, to the rhythm of his heart. It makes him want to know everything. Absorbing as much knowledge as he can- that is what he lives for.

He adores some topics more than others, of course. He has a particularly soft spot for marine life. But he loves, most of all, to look back. Who, how, where, when, why? How did we get here? Where did that come from? Everything has a history. And “history” is about as dense a field as you can get- It's practically endless, and endlessly fascinating. Countless events led us to our current moment in time. Everything that exists came from somewhere. Isn't it just so interesting, to know about the origins of even the most mundane of matters, things people just accept as given without a second thought? Well, he wants to know. Besides...the past is safe. The future is a dangerous unknown, but the past is done, he can learn about it all he wants, and it can't hurt him, and anyone else, anymore. It's already happened, and so, he doesn't have to be scared of it. Helps that he's so good at dealing with it, too.

He loves the World. As for the people in it...well...

It's complicated.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[The People]

Hasegawa is not very fond of interacting with people.

If he has to, he can do it. He doesn't hate others nor especially minds them, he can be polite and respectful! Even then, he'd still rather be doing anything else...When most interactions make you feel uncomfortable, who could blame you for your lack of enthusiasm? He can have small talk, or a light conversation sometimes, it's not that big of a deal. He just won't really go out of his way to have them.

But in truth, Hasegawa loves to talk. Especially when he gets to share his knowledge, his passion, about the World that delights him so. When he immerses himself in it, his nervousness disappears. Hasegawa is oriented more conceptually than socially. That is his way of connecting. Whether it's about something that interests him, or a thing that exists in the same vicinity as him and the other person- when he talks about it, it's like he's saying “Hey, look! You and I, we're both here, in the World.” They are not just random fun facts, or unrelated anectodes- it's him. His passion is him, and when he's sharing it, he's sharing himself. It's as natural as breathing.

Or, was. It's just. He knows better now.

Kids can be cruel. To kids who prefer to stay in and read instead of play. To kids who can ramble endlessly about things that are completely irrelevant to people's everyday lives. Starting every other sentence with “Did you know...?” To kids who seem much more invested in random concepts, instead of their actual conversation partners as people. But he's not- he isn't-

He is interested. He'd love to learn about them, too. To know them as deeply as he could.

How many times did he get called annoying? A know-it-all? How many times was he shut down when he was only getting started? How many times was he told to be quiet? How many times did he see people grow bored and tired of him? He doesn't want to be irritating, he just wants to share himself with people. Is that so wrong...? Over time, his eyes lowered more and more, his shoulders hunched as he got taller, his voice grew softer as it turned deeper. He knows better now. He grew up, and he learned how to do this whole social thing better. Don't be overzealous. He still can't help himself sometimes....But he also remembers...and is always ready to apologize. Every conversation is a potential minefield. Arms in front of himself, always. Bracing for impact.

It's okay. He still has about everything else.

Now, he just prefers to keep himself on the down-low. Quiet, subdued, just in case. It's not ideal, to constrict himself to this degree, and it makes interactions more of a chore, to suppress his instincts, but... well. It's safer. It's less painful. He's already too sensitive either way. And he really, really doesn't like confrontation.

He doesn't really like going to school. He studies for hours everyday as a passion, so- definitely people related. He's not outright bullied, per se. People might be trying to buddy up to him now, because of his wealth, and it's clear that's the only reason they want to befriend him. Maybe he gets too much attention. Or, on the contrary, he has no one to talk to. He doesn't reach out, others don't reach out to him, he doesn't mesh with anyone, he doesn't even get the chance to grow comfortable... and that's that. It just has to suck to be amongst big groups of people and be constantly reminded of how you're lacking, of how alone you are. You can't learn about people like you'd learn from a book.

He has his issues, but, it's not like he's particularly unhappy...

Well...He might be a little lonely...

...

B-but...He still has his family! They're always there for him.

They love him and accepts him for who he is, he gets to utilize his passion in the most lucrative way possible, and he wants for nothing. He couldn't be more fortunate. He's still so worried about everything, about his family, about what's going to happen in the future, but what he has now...It has to be enough.

For a time. Because family is not supposed to be everything you have, forever. In Hasegawa's student log, there's a lot of emphasis put on his future. He himself is worried about it. As people grow up, they're supposed to go out into the world, to branch out, have their own place, have a job, get married. His family wondered whether the last one was in the cards for him. It might not be up in the air only because he's gay, though it's a big factor, but also because it's so hard for him to build connections in the first place. He...maybe he'd also like to have that last one too, one day-

Then again... this difficulty makes the times when he does find a connection all the more special.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ [Kamimura Kazutoshi]

It's very late. Hasegawa's sitting in the dining hall, barely able to keep his eyes open. And then, look at that. Kamimura is out too, in the dead of night. Their previous interaction was pleasant enough. Good, even. And, Hasegawa's so tired and sleepy it makes him relaxed, more than he would be otherwise. His defences are down.

They're in a “game of life and death”. He's supposed to feel paranoid about everyone and everything, he should to be wary of his own shadow, but...right now, he just isn't. Kamimura is so nice and friendly.

This conversation is going well, too. It's flowing steadily. Calm. Comfortable. Easy. Easy smiles, easy laughter, easy lightness.

Then, Kamimura says that he's glad Hasegawa's there.

And he tells him he can call him by his first name.

And that was that.

Since then, they were inseparable. Still practically strangers, but they were already...of, each other. Their beings tied together. It was an almost insant connection. And all it took was Kamimura reaching his hand out to him. Kamimura trusted him in some way from the get go, didn't include him in “I don't know any of these people, and I don't want them to know me”, and clearly enjoyed talking and being with him. Hasegawa was very fond of Kamimura as well. He was definitely comfortable around him, enough that it automatically improved his social skills tenfold. He wasn't a perfect friend, but he always, always tried to be there for him. To help him in any way he could. Taking on his punishment in the Decision Game wasn't even a choice, it would be unthinkable for him not to take it. He comforted him during a breakdown. When he betrayed Kamimura's trust, he didn't skulk off with his tail between his legs, he'd tried his hardest to make it right. He revealed his vulnerabilities in turn. And he never made the same mistake again.

He wanted to keep him safe and protected, to look after his well-being, to be kind to him, because he truly cared.

They didn't make each other perfectly happy always, that's not what it was about. They bickered, teased each other, miscommunicated, fought, made up. But the mere fact of just existing in the other's presence- talking, exploring, or doing their own separate activities together in silence, was much more important. If they were suddenly rescued, there would be no question of whether they'd want to stay in each other's lives.

We know that Kamimura was completely alone for years. And yet, it still felt natural and easy for him to be in Ken's presence. He trusted him. He felt safe with him. Always.

And Hasegawa only thought of him.

He was invested in his problems and feelings only. Always worried, about nobody else, nobody but him.

Hasegawa wasn't especially obsessed with Kamimura, or incapable of functioning without him, or any other extremes like that. He was his own person outside of the relationship, and they weren't unhealthily codependent. They sometimes separated, to have their alone time, apart from each other. Ken just made that “time alone” more literal.

With 100% certainty, they grew to love each other as close friends, at least. They were both quite lonely individuals who generally don't have an easy time of connecting with others, so when they encountered a connection that felt so easy, it only makes sense to hold onto it. They could show each other the sides of themselves that are normally hidden from the world. Honest. Vulnerable. Real.

Their relationship wasn't a problem. When they were together, it was good....Whatever Hasegawa had with Kamimura, it was more than enough for him. Enough to not try and seek “more”, to actually make an effort and cultivate other relationships on his own. That's not the sort of thing he normally does, anyway. He likes to keep his friend group small, after all.

In this short period of 21 days, Kamimura became the best friend he's ever had. Maybe even something else.

And that's when it ended.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[The End]

it was beautiful, until it wasn't.

Kamimura is gone.

And Hasegawa was left with zero meaningful relationships and social ties besides him. Whenever he interacted with others, it was always either forced by circumstance, or he was with Kamimura - conversing with people from the place of being as a unit. It was easier, because with someone, he was never the sole focus. On his own, he had never initiated a conversation, not once.

There's a reason that when you're, for example, married, your spouse shouldn't be the only person you have. Even if it's a great relationship, things happen, people leave, people die, and when you put all your eggs in one basket, you are left with nothing.

No one even knows how to approach him. Some people try, but their attempts fall flat. The person who would be the most qualified to try and reach him is gone too. He doesn't seek out anyone nor accept their support, just...retreats. He was barely even a part of the wider group, and now he's barely anything at all.

Hasegawa didn't “just” lose a loved one, his best friend, someone he cared about a lot, someone he was with always. He also lost the only regular source of social interaction, good feelings, engaging conversation, laughter, care, warmth, and belonging he's had for almost a month.

Kamimura didn't “just” die. He was tortured. Desecrated. His life and being were treated like worthless trash specifically to fuck with him.

And Hasegawa was left behind with all of this, things that are beyond traumatizing, with no one whose support he wants, with no one he trusts, with no one he's very comfortable with, or especially likes. No one who brings him joy.

Ken has never been on his own to this degree. He has no one.

He somewhat blamed himself for Isono's death and he had nothing to do with it. He had made no promises to her.

But Kamimura was his to protect.

He's normally so anxious, but with him, he was strong. Because he had someone to be strong for.

“They were always together” rings in his ear. If that's true, then why not then? Why? How could he have let him down like that? Why? Why did he leave him alone?

Why didn't he think of what a hazard it is, for someone to have a completely separate and unattended food supply?

He was in a room right across the hall. He was so close, and he didn't hear a thing. He just sat there, blissfully unaware, while Kamimura was being tortured not even 30ft away.

He died in horrible pain, choking on his own blood, just because he was close to him.

Because of him.

He had so many chances to save him, and he lost each and every one.

It's all his fault.

Kidnapped, ripped away from his family, in an uncertain and stressful environment, he's had the security of being with someone, with Kamimura, since the very beginning.

He had considered the possibility that either of them might die. But it was never more than a vague sort of anxiety, brought by the logic of their environment. He was more scared for Kamimura because of his health problems. Still, if he'd died, Hasegawa knew that he would be devastated.

He never could have imagined that it would happen like that.

What is he supposed to do now?

Hasegawa Ken still has the World, like he's always had.

But, what is the World worth now?

Everything felt fine, when he was half of a pair.

Now through the fault of his, there's no other half there.

He just wants to go home.

‎