#and i like the story! i really wanna know who exactly the owner is

[killjoy-prince]

I was reading manga telling myself to go to bed to no avail when my brother called telling me to open the door because he forgot his keys. When I opened the door, I told him he was lucky I was reading manga bc no one else was up right now and so he thanked me and then went to my room and said in a cutesy voice "Thank you manga~!"

[ghoststyles]

Casanova

HIIIII 🤍 Here is a little piece I've been working on for a while! This is inspired by the song Casanova by Rayland Baxter. Harry is a manipulative little twat in this, so bare with me 🤍

7.5K words;

TW: SLIGHT mommy kink. He doesn't call her mommy but he calls her mama and Miss/Missy. P in V sex, oral sex, phone sex. FACETIME SEX <3 Slight mentions of suicide. EXTREME drug and alcohol abuse. Arrests, jail. the works.

ENJOY AND GIVE ME A BOOP IF YOU LIKE IT :D

______________________________________________________________

Money, all I ever want is money But I never wanna work for the money So I borrow the money from a woman

Harry Styles knew who he was from a young age. A charmer. A flirt. He uses his wits and his good looks to manipulate the people around him until they have no choice but to give in, conning them and infiltrating their lives for his own gain.

His days are simple; He sleeps until 11, combs his hair into a perfect swirl of chocolate curls, brushes his perfectly white and straight teeth, spritzes his neck with his ridiculously priced Tom Ford cologne, climbs into his Porsche Cayenne to hit the gym, and grab an $18 smoothie for the ride home. From there, he lets the day unfold how it pleases, until it’s time to go to the club with his friends. Here and there, he’ll meet up with his dealer and his bookie to spice it up. 

Rinse. Reuse. Repeat. 

As a child, Harry was dirt poor. He’d never let anyone know that, however. His perfectly curated image blossomed the minute he got to college, leaving any ounce of mediocrity behind. His friends were none the wiser, assuming Harry was there blowing his trust fund like the rest of them, when really, he was a charity case.

Every day, he’d walk to the corner store for cigarettes for his dad and cans of tuna fish, stealing a small item to try and feel something. The owner, Mr. Abbott, knew Harry stole from him, but never said a word. He’d return to their one bedroom apartment, flicking the light on, only to find the electric bill hadn’t been paid. 

His parents are not addicts or criminals, by any means. If they were, he’d at least have a touching back story. Neither of them have the drive or the desire to succeed like he does. They lived their simple lives, worked paycheck to paycheck to support him and his siblings and never worked for more. 

On the day he left for college, he vowed to himself to never let anyone see him as the poor, pathetic boy he was. He’ll put his own silver spoon in his mouth, if he must. 

So, as he sits high and mighty on his throne after doing a few lines off a pretty girl’s tits in the VIP section of his favorite club, The Viper, surrounded by his fellow socialite friends, he thinks of one person.

You.

Harry isn’t unemployed, per se, but, he doesn’t exactly have a job, either. Two years ago, at the ripe age of 21, he graduated magna cum laude from university, with top marks in all of his classes. But, he knew he didn’t want to work a traditional job. He wanted to travel, he wanted to live lavishly, and he wanted to party.

That’s where you come in. The gorgeous, alluring and kind-hearted woman that feeds the beast that is his lifestyle. He wouldn’t change it for the fucking world.

Swiping aimlessly one day on the dating apps, he stopped his scroll abruptly to study your profile. You’re perfectly curated - the collection of photos reflecting your outgoing personality and beauty. 

38. Looking for some fun. Dog mom. CEO. Let me spoil you <3

Seeking a male ages 21-28.

His eyebrow quirks. A sugar mommy? Is that a thing?

He swipes right, hoping deep down you match. This could be it. This could be his way in. The funds from his financial aid are quickly dwindling, and he’d be sooner caught dead than with a part-time job. 

He dawdles around his apartment for a few hours, pacing the room to see if you matched with him. The possibility of this arrangement is scratching an itch he’s been desperate to quell. 

He readies himself to meet his friends at the club, placing cologne on his neck and wrists. For good measure, he adjusts himself in his trousers to get a little blood flowing down there. 

As he plucks his keys from the door, he hears the familiar ping from the dating site ring out from his laptop. Stopping in his tracks, he pivots to stand at his desk. He swallows thickly before entering his passcode.

Congratulations, Casanova94, you matched with BabyHoneyxo

A dazed smile makes its way to his lips, his dimple popping significantly. This is going to be good.

Can you believe I never met her? Can you believe she never met me, too? But she calls me everyday, telling me to behave And no I never listened

Now, almost two years later, you and Harry have still never met in person. But, that’s by your request. You want a companion. A call boy. Someone who will always answer the phone when you need it. And ever since you inherited your family’s wealth and company, you want someone to spoil.

It started off slow; texts asking about one another’s day, learning about hobbies and interests. Then, the wire deposits came in. Harry wasn’t sure if he had hearts in his eyes or dollar signs. You don’t tell him how to spend the money, but you definitely drop hints.

“Get yourself a new outfit, baby. Then send me a picture,” you smiled lazily on FaceTime one night. “Maybe you can find something to match the Porsche.”

Harry chuckles boyishly, “You’re too good to me. I just went shopping last week!” 

He has you eating out of the palm of his hand. 

“I know, I know. I just want my baby boy to be happy. Can you pull yourself out for me, baby? Wanna see you,” you purr, making yourself comfortable on your king sized bed in your quiet penthouse. You’re winding down for bed, even though your lover is just getting ready for the night. 

“Mhm,” Harry responds, voice an octave higher and desperate sounding. He slides himself out, letting his cock harden slowly in his hands. “My friends will be here soon, Missy.”

“That’s okay, bubba. We’ll be quick. Mmm, look how big and gorgeous you are,” your sultry tone sends shivers up his spine. He adjusts the camera so you’re looking at his abdomen from below his thick cock. 

“My perfect boy,” you moan out as you touch your clit for the first time this evening. “Always so good for me.”

“Yes, Missy. Wanna be good for you. Can I touch myself harder now?”

“Yeah, baby, go ahead. Squeeze that big cock. Tell me when you’re close.”

At this point, you’re furiously rubbing your clit, and gently teasing a finger inside. His breaths are becoming more labored as he pumps his cock at a faster pace. You pause just before your climax, sending your heart rate to a thunderous pace you can hear the ringing in your ears. 

You look over at your phone propped up next to you to find your little love sweating and fisting himself hurriedly. The whimpers coming from the other end make the hairs on your arms stand up. After a beat, you continue the assault on your clit, starting off slow in order to reach that peak again. 

“I-I’m close, Missy. Please let me cum. I f-feel so good,” at the tail end of his begging, he moans deeply. 

“Uh-uh. Who always cums first, baby?”

“You, Mama. You cum first,” he pants, his eyes making panicked contact with yours. 

“That’s right. Good boy. I’m so close baby,” you squeak out as you stick two fingers in your cunt. You cry out, at your release, gently tweaking your nipple with your other hand.

Harry isn’t far behind, taking one last swipe over his tip, using his other hand to cup his balls. He cums all over his fist, small specks of white littering his belly. He whimpers again, barely able to open his eyes. 

“Let me see, baby,” you whisper, waiting for him to show you his load. He pans the camera silently, the haze already leaving his head. But he’d never tell you that. 

“Thank you, Missy. I feel so good.”

“Mmm, bet you do, baby. Now go clean up and have fun with your friends. I’ll talk you tomorrow. Behave!”

“Okay, I will. Goodnight.”

The minute Harry presses ‘end’, an ounce of remorse bubbles in his chest. Just an ounce. He rises from his bed to jump in the shower, ridding him of his guilt and shame. 

Sure, you’re gorgeous, and nice. But you’re not what’s getting him off. Or so he likes to tell himself. Throughout your sessions on FaceTime, Harry’s mind wanders to the girls he’s hooked up with the weekend before, and the countless drugs he’ll consume on a night out. That’s what gets his rocks off. 

You’re the means to his ends. The gateway to his wildest dreams. He’s going to hold onto you for as long as he can, even if he has to get off over the phone a few nights, or pretend to care about the philanthropy you’re supporting that week. 

Harry should be your only philanthropy, he thinks to himself. This is the easiest job he’s ever done. And it only makes it better that he can do whatever he wants, with no consequences.

As he gets out of the shower, his prick still swinging in the air, he picks up his phone to see a Venmo payment from you.

Y/N L/N paid Harry Styles - $2,000.00 - 😘

Without even hesitating, Harry, heart rate rising a bit, opens up a text field  - to his club promoter. He ignores the dozens of texts from family members over the last few weeks. He’ll make his yearly obligation call to his mother at some point.

Hey, Mike! Can we upgrade to V.I.P tonight? I can put $2K down now.

He’ll thank you later. Tonight, he’s the hero of his friend group. A slight nervousness prickles on his neck. Harry isn’t naive - he knows he should be smarter with his money - your money. But you haven’t given him any reason to believe the well will run dry any time soon. 

So far, despite your generosity, Harry still lives paycheck to paycheck. He blows his money on extravagant trips, nights out at the club, and plenty of booze and coke. It’s times he hopes to look back on one day and smile. He swears to you he’s saving the money and working towards investing and buying a house. 

Scout’s honor. 

I got a real bad feeling, I'ma let her down Got a hole in my pocket and I'm running around Spending all of her money on drugs and things To keep my mind from runnin' Back to the hole that I came from

Every night that he steps out of his apartment, he shakes the nagging feeling in his gut, the embodiment of the life he left behind. He calls his Uber Black to take him to the Viper, his little white baggy in the breast pocket of his Burberry overcoat. 

He nods to the driver when he opens his door and proceeds to pour a small line of the substance onto the screen of his phone, but not without seeing another text from you.

Mrs. Robinson 🤍: Enjoy the night, sweet boy! Be safe xo

Harry smiles to himself at your contact in his phone. You all but had a fit when you found out he’d never seen The Graduate. Once he saw it, his world changed.

Swiping away your message, he plugs up his nostril, inhaling sharply as he moves his face over the surface of the screen. He grunts lightly, throwing his head back and shaking it out. That should hold him over until they’re in their secluded area of the club. 

The car pulls up to the club around 11:45, the house music already bumping. The line looks brutal. He scans it to see if he spots any 10s waiting that can keep him company later. Miles, Marquise and Jade are already inside at their table.

The bouncers greet Harry, bumping his fist and patting him on the back. He can feel the eyes of the nobodies in line glaring at him enviously. When you spend the average person’s salary in one night at the club, you eagerly reap the benefits. 

As he’s escorted through the crowd by the five-foot-nothing hostess, his senses are on high alert. He can hear his heart beating over the music and can feel the bass shaking the floors. He smiles tightly at the girl as she leads him to his table and scurries back into the crowd. 

Marquise and Miles, his best friends from undergrad stand to greet him, as Jade greets him from the lap of her catch of the day, a burly, bearded dude already glowing from sweat and the 8-ball they’re about to dig into. 

Taking his first swig of the Don Julio his regular bottle service girl, Tasia, pours into his mouth, he cracks a wicked smile, convincing himself there’s no where else he’d rather be.

Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from And I don't ever want to go back

~

“So,” you start quietly on your daily FaceTime coffee date. You’re perched in your home library’s windowsill. “I was thinking of flying you in for my 40th. It’s going to be pretty chill. I’ll probably hire a chef and have a dinner at my place. Maybe 15-20 people.”

Harry is cocooned in a blanket on his bed, his iced coffee you had DoorDashed to his apartment slowly melting on his bedside table. His eyes had slowly drifted shut as he listened to you talk about everything and nothing. That’s how these things went — you talk and he listens. You’re after his companionship, after all.

At your words, his eyes shoot open, causing him to try and sit up gently so he can hear you better, not believing what you’re saying. Inhaling, he hesitates before he starts to reply. 

“Uh, um,” he bites his lip and looks at himself in the corner of the screen, trying to gauge if he looks as shocked as he sounds. “W-when are you thinking? I have a couple trips coming up and plans with my friends.”

He decides to play it cool. You have to know this is a huge development in this arrangement, right?

“Well, my birthday is the 27th, obviously.”

He scoffs, “I knew that part, Miss. When is the party?”

“Watch the ‘tude, baby. I was hoping for that Saturday, maybe. But I’d be willing to work around what you have coming up.”

He’s lying through his teeth. He doesn’t have major travel plans until the summer, when his friend group will jet off to Greece. He’s been saving up your pennies to charter a private plane.

“Don’t agree to it now, but please think about it. I love spending time with you and I’d love to finally meet you. We can tell my family that you’re part of one of my philanthropy groups. I’m your largest donor, after all,” you stick your tongue out at him.

“Okay, let me get myself together for the day, and I can see what’s going on,” Harry grits out, trying not to let you down. 

“Okay, baby. Have a good day. Let me know if you get up to anything fun,” you say with a mild hurt in your tone. The least he can do is make an effort to finally meet you.

“Will do. Bye, Miss,” He says quietly, swiftly hanging up the call and chucking the phone towards his pillows. 

“Fuck!” 

Hm, Casanova You know that I'm a casanova Throw my pennies in the well Waking up in jail 'Cause I never paid attention Do you remember all the good times? Do you remember all the bad times too? She reminds me everyday, telling me to behave And no I never listened

~

You didn’t let him off the hook that easily. Every day that passes as your birthday party looms, you mention flights, or activities you can do once he arrives. Harry laughs them off, distracting you by touching himself or telling a story from his gatherings with friends. 

It’s not until you’re barking orders at him over the phone, 1 week before your party, denying his orgasm that he finally relents. 

“Miss, please, I-I need to cum,” he whimpers as he has a ghostly touch over his angry, red cock. “P-please, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything, hm? I want my pretty baby at my birthday party. Wanna show you off and whisper filthy things in your ear and feel that pretty cock under the table. Agree to fly out to me and I’ll let you cum, baby.”

“Miss,” he croaks out, his stomach in shambles trying to stop himself from coming for the third time. “Okay, okay, Mama, I’ll go. I-I’ll come for your birthday! Please let me cum.”

You all but squeal in delight, instructing him to finally let go. Talking him through it, he keens from your praises for following the rules. A nervous heat travels up his neck, realizing what he agreed to in his post-nut clarity. 

“Good boy. Take a picture before you clean up, okay? I’ll talk to you in the morning and I’ll have my assistant send over your travel information.”

He nods, unable to make eye contact. You’re oblivious and overjoyed, thinking he’s just too fucked out to look at you. 

“G’night, Missy,” he chokes out. 

“Goodnight, sweet boy,” you hum before hanging up.

Harry snaps a photo of his messy left fist and cum-covered stomach before cleaning himself up and returning to bed. He eagerly picks up his phone to check his dating apps for his matches. He’d been talking to a new girl, Madelyn, for the past week, so excitement bubbles in his stomach. 

She’s meeting him and his regular group at the Viper tonight, so he’s excited to show off to her. Maybe she’ll even be down for a romp in the back seat of his Porsche.

His phone pings, signaling another deposit from you.

Y/N L/N paid Harry Styles - $5,000 - Can’t wait to see you 😘

He smiles, his right thumb picking at the skin of his ring finger. The guilt he feels from abusing your kindness starts to eat at him. But he didn’t get this far by being nice to people. You can’t possibly have feelings for him, right? You haven’t even met, for god’s sake. He shivers, shaking the feeling so he can focus on the night ahead. 

Pushing you far, far in the back of his mind. 

~

It’s now the night before your 40th birthday party, and you’re buzzing with excitement. Your penthouse is decorated in pink and floral frill - almost like your Great Aunt Gertrude exploded - but it’s chic and will be a hit amongst your New York City socialite friends. Your party planner floats around the room, puttering with the florals, candles and gem stones scattered around. 

You anxiously check the time, counting down the hours until Harry boards his flight from LA. He’s jumping on a red eye, so you’ll greet him with coffee and donuts when he lands. A pang of nervousness hits you as you remember how distant he was this week, saying he was busy with friends or doing god knows what an unemployed 23 year old does in Los Angeles.

Monday, 3:31 PM

Mr. Gladstone 🤍: Sorry, missy. I’ve been at Miles’ art showing all day.

Wednesday, 11:27 AM

Mr. Gladstone 🤍: Sorry! At the gym with Do Not Disturb on. Hey, can you send me some cash? Last min car maintenance 😢

Friday, 5:58 PM

Mr. Gladstone 🤍: Hi missy. My friends want to go to the opening of the new Carbone out here. Think your friends can get us a table? It’ll be 9 of us. 

Hope your dad’s chemo appointment went okay.

You can’t be mad at the little monster you’ve let him become. You are always an after thought as his only priority is making sure the cash cow is alive and well. He extends effort just enough to make the butterflies in your stomach reappear when he does give you the attention you crave. 

Inhaling deeply, you ascend up the grand staircase in your Upper East Side brownstone and begin your pampering routine, sending photos to Harry of the hydrating eye patches on and curlers in your hair, blowing kisses and sticking out your tongue. 

Typically, Harry answers relatively quickly to your silly messages, but, tonight, he’s gone radio silent. Maybe he’s trying to conserve his phone battery for the flight? 

You open your medicine cabinet to examine your fast-acting anti-anxiety pills, hoping you can will away this uneasy feeling. Padding over to your bed, you pop your pills before tucking into your silk sheets. Before putting your phone on the charger, you send Harry one last message.

Mrs. Robinson 🤍: Safe flight, baby ♥️ I’ll be tracking you, but tell me which terminal when you land. Can’t wait to see you 😚

Flicking out the light, you close your eyes with the hopes of finally meeting your lover in just twelve hours.

~

I got a real bad feeling I'ma lose my cool Everywhere that I go, everything that I do Stop me using the money on drugs and things To keep my mind from runnin'

Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from And I don't ever want to go back

Ping!

Harry, Delta airlines can’t wait to welcome you aboard Flight 0723 to JFK, departing 18:35

Ping!

You may now board Flight 0723 to JFK, departing 18:35. Welcome aboard, Harry.

Harry’s leg is bouncing uncontrollably as he watches the busy bodies move around him. Despite his social butterfly nature, his social anxiety rears its ugly head every once in a while. Or, it could be tonight’s concoction of pills.

He places his phone on Do Not Disturb, just as he gets a text from you. Closing his eyes in defeat, he comes face to face with the awful, shameful and downright despicable choice he’s made.

He’s not going to New York.

Instead, he’s standing booth side at a club next to John Summit, his favorite DJ, as he passes around a bottle of 1942. The pills he’s on are plastering a wide smile on his face as the throng of bodies around him jump around, despite the absolute panic and guilt he feels in his veins. 

He’s wondering when you’ll realize he’s not coming. The lack of texts? The empty escalator to the pick-up area well after the flight has landed? He can picture your cherub cheeks reddening with embarrassment, fighting back hot tears.

To distract himself, he leans down to capture the blonde girl to his left in a kiss, despite not even making eye contact with her prior. When she peers up at him, her pupils are just as dilated as his as they sway back and forth.

He kisses her once more, just as Marquise offers him another baggie.

~

The panic sets in about 30 minutes after his flight landed. Surely that’s enough time to grab his bag and meet you here, right?

Your eyes urgently scan over every person that walks by probably sending them into fight or flight as a deranged woman looks them over in search for her boy. 

You look down at your phone, the background a photo of your dog, completely clear of any notifications. With vigor, you throw out the box of donuts and his iced black Americano. Swallowing your pride, you skulk back to the parking lot to cry in the safety of your car. 

You feel like a loser. A pathetic middle-aged woman who got fooled by a man half her age. The mental gymnastics that takes place as you drive home with white knuckles on the steering wheel should have you committed. 

Your dating life wasn’t easy. It started in high school, where you were invisible to the boys, always deemed not good enough to date. Extending through college, you were still nearly invisible, working over time to find just one guy to have any interest in you and take your virginity. Just to get it over with. 

As the dating scene expanded in your 20s, you still struck out with men your age. It wasn’t until your late 30s when your hopes and dreams of a family came crashing down on you that you’d made that godforsaken dating profile. 

You still remember how your heart skipped a beat when you saw Harry’s photo for the first time. His boyish charm was palpable, followed by his incredibly witty prompt answers. He was your solution. If you couldn’t earn someone’s love, you could at least buy it. 

The lump in your throat is preventing you from calling him and leaving the fiery voicemail you so want to do. You assume he’ll ignore any calls from you anyway.

Pulling into your private garage, you let out your frustrations by wailing and smacking the steering wheel of your Bentley. To prying eyes, the cops should be called. You allow yourself to flip for 5 minutes before putting on a brave face and going inside to begin getting ready for your birthday party, ringing in another year of heartbreak and disappointment. 

~

3 glasses of a 1982 Cabernet Sauvignon. That’s how much alcohol it took to have you crying in front of your friends and family. 

You couldn’t tell them what was really wrong, of course. They have no idea about your and Harry’s arrangement. They’d call you an idiot if they knew how much money you’ve sent him.

Everyone is shooting you sympathetic looks as you cry on your best friend’s shoulder. For all they know, you’re stressed with work and your dad’s cancer diagnosis. It’s a lot of pressure on a single woman. 

Rubbing your back, Candice whispers all the affirmations she’s been telling you since college. It’s incredibly annoying to get advice from someone whose life is perfect. 

You quietly thank her, clearing your throat of the lump that’s formed. Looking around the room, you make a break for it, grabbing your phone as you lock yourself in the guest bathroom.

Tears blurring your vision, you dial his number for the first time all day. It rings and rings, finally sending you to voicemail, as you’d suspected.

You’re silent for a beat after the beep. 

“I-I don’t even have words for how I’m feeling right now. I was so fucking excited to see you…feel you….kiss you. And instead I’m locked in a bathroom at my own birthday party, calling you like a fucking loser,” you start, snot threatening to drip down your face. 

“I give, and I give and I give, and yet you still let me look like a fucking idiot in front of my friends and family. You couldn’t do one fucking thing for me? You…You didn’t even have to put any effort. I paid for a car service, paid for a first-class seat, bought you a wardrobe…”

“I just hope whatever the fuck you’re doing right now is worth it. I don’t ask questions about what you do with my money, since I’m the one who started this. B-but I thought you were a decent person. I feel so fucking stupid right now,” you are talking to yourself at this point. You shakily inhale and stare at the ceiling. 

“We’re done. I’m done with your bullshit. I’m not gonna let some ungrateful brat take advantage of me anymore. Have a nice life, Harry. Hope you have to move back to bumblefuck and lose all the friends you’ve been lying to this whole time,” you end off the message with pure venom leaking through your words.

You press end, feeling slightly better that you’d used his deepest darkest secret as ammunition. The mirror in front of you shows a shocking picture; running mascara, watery, red eyes, and disheveled hair.

Patting some toilet paper under your eyes, you clean up the best you can before returning back to the party. If you were strong, you’d block his number. But you can’t help but wonder what his response could be.

~

He deserves it. It’s 4:40 AM and he just mustered the courage to listen to your message. His under eyes feel heavy as he listens to your words, hitting him where it hurts. His hands are shaking as he lowers the phone to his lap, drowning out the sound of your sad, heartbreaking voice. 

5 years ago, he was a decent person. Now, he looks in the mirror and sees his slightly gaunt face and tired eyes staring back at him. He even notices a few gray hairs every once in a while. 

His lifestyle takes a toll on him — He’s well aware of that. But for now, he has no reason to stop. Harry lightly smacks his head back on the seat of the Uber back to his apartment. Cracking the window, he lets the sounds of the early morning deter him from vomiting.

The car arrives at his apartment — a guest house in Hidden Hills, the only place he can afford with the zip code he desires so badly. He never brings anyone to his place, too paranoid of his secrets getting out. Vision doubling, he struggles to stick his key in the lock. He knees the door has he twists the knob, sending him tumbling flat on his face. 

Smacking his head on the tile floor, he recoils, lifting his hand to feel droplets of blood on his nose and bottom lip. The metallic taste is leaking into his mouth, sending him into a spiral. His front door is still wide open, allowing him to see the sun peaking over the hills in the distance. 

He crawls over to the threshold, slamming the door shut with his foot. He lays back down on the cool floor, exhausted from his efforts. His breathing evened out, lulling him into a comatose state before succumbing to the darkness.

But before he passes out, all he can picture is your gorgeous, disappointed face.

I'm back in the hole I got nowhere to go La la la la, la, la Spinning around In the cold dark hole deep down in the ground Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from

The thing about rock bottom is that you don’t realize you’ve hit it until you’re clawing your way back to the top.

In the days following your fallout, Harry’s experienced enough misfortunes to last a lifetime. It started off with his credit card declining on a $6 breakfast sandwich, only to come back hungry and sad to his car being repossessed in front of all the Hidden Hills housewives out and about. 

The panic rises in his chest, and it’s taking everything in him not to call you and beg for forgiveness. He’s come to realize how fucked up his actions towards you became. He misses the butterflies and longing he felt when you first started your arrangement. 

He stomps back inside, miserable and feeling like a loser. If it wasn’t for Marquise’s birthday party later, he’d be sure to go dive in the ocean in hopes of never resurfacing. 

His closet is taunting him — full of the clothes you’ve bought him. He can remember every single piece he tried on for you, and the praise you were so quick to give him. He never reciprocated when you’d show him new pieces and showing off your incredible body. But, you hadn’t called him out on it, so he continued on. 

The all black outfit he chose reflects his mental state. Filled with dread and remorse, he pulls out his kitchen drawer to peruse the substances he has left. His stash is dwindling as fast as his bank account, so he has to be strategic until he figures out his next move. 

Grabbing the baggies, he situates them in the breast pocket of his jacket to conceal everything. They’re going to a new club tonight, so there’s no being saved by the bouncers if shit goes south. 

The party goes off without a hitch. Bottles pouring, dancers hanging from the ceiling, and an influx of out of town girls willing to do anyone and anything. Harry has nearly pushed you completely out of his mind, but he does something completely out of character.

~

Mr. Gladstone 🤍: I’m sorry.

You’re at a wine bar with your girlfriends in the Village, and the message you receive shakes you to your core. You haven’t heard from him in days. Not even after you repossessed the car and canceled his credit card tied to your account. You thought for sure that would smoke him out of his foxhole. But, he’s Harry. He’s selfish and too full of pride to ever come forward and apologize.

Your friends notice the faltered look on your face, but opt to ignore it as they bitch about their husbands and kids. Despite your fleeting dreams of having a family, most of the time you’re thankful you can’t relate to them. 

Turning off your phone, you throw it in your new Kelly bag — a little treat to get over the heartbreak — and return to the conversation.

~

He doesn’t even remember how it went down. 

The last clear memory he has is being escorted out of the club to go back to Marquise’s. The combination of coke and alcohol, plus this week’s tumultuous events had him on edge, so when the unfamiliar bouncer at this mediocre club grabbed him wrong, it sent Harry into a frenzy. 

To match his bloody nose and busted lip, his knuckles are now decorated with crusty amber smatterings of blood — his own, and the bouncer’s. His jaw and wrist were aching, still mouthing off like a rabid animal as the cop read him his Miranda rights. 

So now, he sits in a cold cell in the county jail awaiting his arraignment — a seemingly straight forward assault and battery charge, now amplified by the 40 grams of cocaine and Adderall in his coat pocket. The bastard cop smiled to himself when he patted him down. Harry will give him this one, the rinkydink small town cop who is used to giving out traffic violations. 

Tired, in dire need to piss, and on the verge of a mental breakdown, Harry’s head snaps up when the officer notifies him of his bail — a measly $75,000 — and lets him know he has one phone call. Balling his fists, he looks up at the ceiling.

“Fuck!”

The cop assists him in standing up. His wrists are chained together behind his back, after all. Releasing him from the confines, Harry rubs his wrists where the cheap metal chafed him.

“You have 5 minutes to make a call. Do you know the phone number or do you need me to access your cell phone?”

Harry scoffs. Who the fuck still memorizes phone numbers?

“Phone,” he replies, a clear edge in his voice. 

“Whose contact am I looking for? Mom, Dad?”

“Fuck’s sake. No, I need the number of,” Harry pauses suddenly as he remembers your name in his phone. 

“Mrs. Robinson,” he finishes quietly.

The cop raises his eyebrows, but says nothing, and reads the number aloud to him. It rings, and rings, diminishing any hope that you’ll answer. It’s in this moment Harry is at his rockbottom.

“Hello?”

~

“This is a collect call from the Department of Corrections for the City of Los Angeles. An individual is trying to contact you. Do you wish to answer?”

You gasp as the automated voice informs you of your worst nightmare.

“Hello?” you say quietly. It’s 8:15 AM, and you’re at the cafe on the corner for a latte and reading, trying not to disturb those around you. 

“M-missy?” His voice sounds broken. It sends a stabbing pain straight through your chest. 

“Harry, what happened? What did you do?”

“I-I fucked up. I fucked up so bad. N-not just with you. I know I fucked everything u-up,” he’s starting to sob, unable to catch his breath between words.

“B-but I got into a pretty bad fight last night, and I had some,” Harry pauses to look over his shoulder to make sure the officer isn’t listening. He wipes the tears in his eyes with his thumb. “I had some stuff on me, so now I’m in a lot more trouble. A-and I know I fucked everything up and I don’t deserve anything from you, but I don’t have enough money for bail.”

You sigh, not really even sure where to begin. Tears are threatening to spill over as you hear his clearly broken sobs. 

“How much do you need?”

At this point, Harry hung his head at your silence. He snaps his head back up when you agree to help him.

“It’s $75,000.”

“Jesus, Harry, what the fuck did you do?”

“I don’t even know, I barely have any memory of—”

“Five minutes, inmate!” the officer interrupts him.

Harry rolls his eyes and continues. 

“I’m not sure what happens next. B-but thank you, Y/N. I know I don’t deserve this in the slightest.”

You shiver at his use of your first name. Closing your eyes, “I know you don’t. Just tell me who I need to call.”

~

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you mutter as you hear your incessant doorbell ring. It’s 6 in the morning, just a few days after you paid Harry’s bail. You’ve been laying low, unsure if you’ll even hear from him again. 

Your doorman, Paul, informs you of a visitor. A visitor? At this time? Unable to even comprehend what’s going on, you press the button to confirm opening the door, and wait. 

Your bunny slippered feet tap your coffee table anxiously. Is it your mom? Here to inform you of someone’s death? Or is it your best friend from college who couldn’t come to your party? Or is it —

You’re broken from your racing thoughts as a timid knock on the door echoes through the house. You shuffle hesitantly over to the door, unable to even bring yourself to look through the peephole. 

Closing your eyes while pulling open the door, the absolute wind is knocked out of you as you eye up your waiting guest. 

He’s tall, tanned and gorgeous as his photos. It’s unfair to look like this after stepping off what she assumes was a red eye flight. He looks exhausted. His lip and nose are busted, and he has a yellowing bruise on his left eye.

“W-what?” you flounder in disbelief.

His hands fold together at your reaction, unsure if he should hug you or keep a respectable distance. He opens his mouth to say something, but stops himself. He’ll play by your rules.

“What the fuck is going on?” 

You look adorable. The sleep barely wiped from your eyes. Slight bed head and disheveled silk pajamas. Harry is in disbelief that this is the woman he’s come to realize his feelings for.

“I know this is so fucked up,” he trails off. “Coming here. I don’t deserve even a minute of your time, but I needed to come here and tell you how fucking sorry I am. How deep into the superficial bullshit I got. I took advantage of you and your kindness and I lost myself in the process.”

You must look flabbergasted, because he inches closer, placing his hands gently on your arms. His touch is searing, but the first reminder that he’s actually standing in front of you and not an extremely lifelike apparition. 

“I-I,” you stumble.

“We don’t even have to talk right now. You can send me away, if you need. But I’m here, I’m here in New York and I want to change. I want to be better for you. These last few days— when I had absolutely nothing — made me realize something.”

His eyes are now earnest and starting to tear up. Your reflection is so clear in his tide pool green irises. 

“I had nothing, and it made me realizing you’re my everything.”

His profession had you clutching your metaphorical pearls. Your heart is racing, sending your central nervous system into a tizzy. You know he’s not lying, because he’s looking dead in your eyes waiting for your reply.

“H-Harry, I don’t even know what to say,” you stall. Your body knows what it wants to say.

“I know and like I said, if you need time, I underst—”

“If you’re here and you’re not bullshitting me; you really want to change. Then, you’ll fuck me like it.”

If Harry’s jaw could drop to the basement, it would. Instead of word vomiting, he lunges forward, guiding both of your bodies back to the hallway and placing a panty-dropping kiss on your lips. He doesn’t even have time to admire your beautiful home.

You break the kiss, grabbing his wrist to lead him to your room. The sheets are mussed, your clothes are all over, but you can’t even begin to fucking care. You all but dive back onto your bed, pulling your nightgown up to reveal your bare, perfect pussy. 

Harry drops to his knees, wrapping his hands around your thighs. The photos and the FaceTimes don’t do any justice to the sight in front of him. You’re complete and utter perfection. 

He waits for your approval before leaning forward to lick from back to front. Your back arches slightly, throwing your ankles over his shoulder. His fingertips dig into your skin deliciously, so you grab onto your blankets for dear life. 

“Give it to me, Missy. I’ve been waiting two years for this perfect cunt. What the fuck was I waiting for?”

You laugh, not expecting his sense of humor at this moment. For the last few months, it’s been like talking to a robot. It was an exchange of goods and services. But here, in front of you, is a man. A man who’s willing to change his ways for you. The man you’ve waited all your life for. 

“Always here for you. It’s yours,” you purr, placing your hands on top of his. 

He growls, vigorously licking into you. He removes his right hand to insert his two middle fingers into your center. This has you howling, unable to even remember the last time a man did this for you. 

“Baby, baby. I’m gonna cum. Gonna cum for you, finally,” you whine, focusing on the immeasurable pleasure stemming from your legs. 

“Mhm, I can feel you, Mama. Let go for me,” he begs, making direct eye contact with you. 

It’s the moment you lock eyes that you’re letting go. All the stars are aligning and symphonies are playing in your head.

“Ah, ah! There, Harry!”

Harry keens at hearing his name roll off your tongue. He slides up your body to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself. You grab at his under shirt, insinuating that you want it off.

He peels it off and cheekily pulls your tit out of your nightie. He winks before connecting his lips to your nipple, rolling his tongue around the bud and sucking gently. 

“Please, want you inside me. Gimme my big cock, baby.” 

“It’s yours, Mama. All of me.”

Harry slides his briefs down his legs, revealing the main event. His dick swings slightly before hitting him in the stomach. You moan, unable to wait even another minute for him.

“Please,” you cry out, scratching down his chest. 

He lines himself up, moaning in ecstasy as he pushes in. Your mouth falls open, a silent whine escaping. 

“So big, baby. I should’ve flown out to you the minute you sent me a dick pic. Like a fucking middle schooler.”

Now Harry is laughing. He’s in disbelief that he would ever treat you the way he did. The clarity from the last few days is damning.

His pumps are getting faster and longer, bottoming out every other thrust. He looks down to where you’re connected, your pussy lips wrapped around him deliciously, a slight white substance leaking out of you. He leans down to kiss you, wanting this connection he’s subconsciously wanted since he met you. 

“Want you to cum with me, Missy. Cum with me. Want to show you I mean it. I mean everything I said.”

You gently put your hand on his cheek, to which he immediately nuzzles in at the touch. 

“I know you mean it, baby. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure this out.”

He nods, leaning down to kiss you again, his thrusts slowing but still ramming you to the hilt.

“You close?”

“Yes, baby boy. Cum with me, I’m cumming now.”

Harry’s cock twitches as he bumps your walls before releasing long and deep into you. You push your noses together, lips ghosting over one another’s. 

Harry is finally home. 

“You’re gonna fucking pay for this, little brat.”

He flashes a shit eating grin, kissing you again.

“I expect nothing less.”

And I don't ever Back to the hole that I came from Back to the hole that I came from And I don't ever want to go back

[candycandy00]

The Doll House - A Choso x Reader Fanfic Part 3

When your younger sister is tricked into selling herself to the Doll House, you rush there to help her, only to find her being led away by her trainer, Choso. Moved by your desire to save your sister, he convinces the owner to let you take her place.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Choso’s. I’m keeping the tag list from previous parts. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. FemDom. Sub Choso. Oral sex. Pegging. Strap ons. Divider by @benkeibear!

The next morning, Choso is up earlier than usual, excitedly moving around the room, making sure the place is neat with no “toys” in plain view. Now you know why he keeps them in a nondescript drawer, right below his sock drawer. 

You watch him with a smile on your face. You know exactly how he feels. Your own sister has visited you a couple of times, and both times it made you very happy. Family is such a precious thing. 

When ready, he leaves to go pick up his brother, and you look forward to a fun Sunday. 

Choso isn’t gone long. Yuji’s grandfather must not live too far away. The little boy runs in through the front door, beating Choso inside, looking perfectly at ease in what is essentially a brothel. He looks just like his picture, pink hair and big bright eyes. He stops right in front of you and grins as he asks, “Are you Choso’s new girlfriend?”

You grin back. “Yeah, sure. And you must be Yuji!”

“That’s me!”

Choso walks through the door, carrying a bag of, you assume, Yuji’s things. He’s beaming as he watches his little brother chat with you, asking your name and how long you’ve been living at the Doll House. Then Yuji smiles and says, “You’re really pretty!”

This kid! Such a charmer! “Thank you! You’re a very handsome young man yourself!”

He turns to Choso once he notices his big brother has caught up to him. “Is Megumi here?”

Choso shakes his head. “Not today. He only visits every now and then, remember?”

Yuji is quiet for a moment, as if thinking hard, then he suddenly says, “I’ll go ask Toji to go get him!” And then he runs toward the hallway. 

“Who’s Megumi?” you ask as the two of you follow him down the hall. 

“Toji’s son,” Choso replies. “He’s Yuji’s age, so they play together when they happen to be here at the same time.”

“I didn’t realize he’s a dad,” you say, thinking of the somewhat gruff but friendly older man. 

Yuji knocks on Toji’s door loudly, his small fist pounding the door until you hear it open from down the hall. Then you hear Toji’s voice. 

“Oh, hey Yuji. What do you need?”

You see Yuji lean to the side, as if looking around Toji, into the room. Then you hear his cute little voice say, “Why is that lady naked?”

“Ah, shit!” Toji blurts out, stepping quickly out into the hall, finally coming into your view as he slams his door shut behind him. “Uh, she’s gettin’ ready to take a bath.”

Yuji stares up at him, his face blank. “You said a bad word.”

Toji’s face seems to twitch slightly. “I’m a grownup. You’re allowed to say bad words when you’re a grownup.”

“Really?” Yuji asks, then looks down the hall toward you and Choso. “Is that true?”

Choso gives him an uneasy smile. “We’ll talk about that when you grow up.”

Toji leans against his door and crosses his arms. “So what do you need, kid?”

Yuji returns his attention to the huge trainer. “Can you go get Megumi? I wanna play with him.”

Toji scratches the back of his head. “Megumi’s with his uncle right now. I don’t even know what he’s up to today.”

“Please, Tojiiiii?” Yuji asks, looking up. “He’s my best friend!”

You get the impression that Yuji has a lot of “best friends” but you find this scene too cute to say anything. 

Toji sighs. “Alright. I’ll call and see if he wants to come over.”

“Thanks, Toji!” Yuji says, hugging the man’s thigh. 

Toji pats the boy’s head. “Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome.”

A little later, Toji leaves to get his son, and you, Choso, and Yuji grab a snack in the kitchen before sitting down in the welcome room to wait. 

Yuji is chatty, telling you about his classmates at school and the soccer team he plays on. 

“I’ve scored more goals than anybody else!” he exclaims proudly. 

“Really? That’s amazing!” you tell him.  

“Yuji is very good at sports,” Choso says. “He’s a lot more athletic than I ever was.”

You glance at Choso, thinking of his well sculpted body and the flexibility he’s shown during your sessions. “You’re pretty athletic though,” you say to him, “and you have a lot of stamina.”

Yuji perks up. “Have you guys been playing together?”

Both you and Choso blush and avert your eyes at the innocent question. “Uh, yeah, we play games sometimes,” you say.

“What kind of games?” Yuji asks. 

Choso looks at you awkwardly, opening his mouth to give some kind of answer, but at the same moment, you hear the front door swing open. Yuji, realizing his friend has most likely arrived, jumps up and runs to the lobby, completely forgetting his question. 

You and Choso both exhale, then glance at each other. He laughs, and so do you. “What were you going to tell him?” you ask. 

“I was going to say Twister,” he says with a grin. 

“Good idea.”

Just then Yuji appears in the welcome room again, smiling as he pulls along another little boy by the hand. This must be Toji’s son Megumi. He has dark messy hair and a somewhat sullen expression, but he’s making no attempt to pull his hand free. 

“And I brought a new game,” Yuji is saying as he walks toward the hallway, “Curse Fighters 3! It’s awesome! There’s a guy who can shoot his own blood across the screen! And another guy who doesn’t have special moves but he uses all kinds of cool weapons! And one guy fights while wearing a blindfold!”

As their voices fade down the hall, you hear Megumi say, “Who would fight while blindfolded? That’s dumb.”

Toji is standing in the welcome room, looking a little exasperated. Choso looks up at him and smiles apologetically. “Sorry for the inconvenience.”

Toji shrugs. “It’s fine. Megumi won’t admit it, but he loves playing with Yuji. I think your brother pulls him out of his shell.” Then Toji heads toward the hall. “I’ll go tell the others we’ve got kids here today.”

“Thanks,” Choso says. 

Whatever Toji told the other trainers must have worked. When you walk into the dining hall at lunch time, all the dolls you normally see are dressed in regular clothes, even Geto’s and Gojo’s. You don’t see the kids, and wonder if they’re still playing video games as you and Choso begin fixing your plates. Just as you’re about to ask him if you should go get them, the door leading to the kitchen bursts open and Gojo limps into the dining hall. 

Megumi is wrapped around one of Gojo’s legs, being dragged along by the tall trainer. Yuji is hanging from Gojo’s neck, and there’s an orange toy arrow stuck under Gojo’s arm. 

“Help! Help!” Gojo is shouting dramatically. “The little goblins are attacking!”

Everyone else watches the scene with amusement, aside from Sukuna who simply looks bored. Gojo drags himself to Geto’s table and practically throws himself across it. “Suguru! You have to help me!”

Geto gives him a wicked grin as he crosses his arms. “Help you? Who do you think told them your weakness?”

Gojo pulls himself up, Yuji still holding onto his neck, and looks at Geto with shock as he screams, “Traitor!”

Yuji hops down, pulling the toy arrow free. “Now we know you’re weak to arrows!” he yells as he pokes Gojo with the foam tip. 

Megumi disentangles himself and pulls another arrow out from behind him. It must have been stuck through the belt loop of his shorts. He wordlessly jabs the arrow against Gojo’s thigh. 

Gojo yelps and jerks away from them, finally collapsing onto the floor. Yuji hoists his arrow into the air and declares, “We did it! We defeated the white haired demon!”

Megumi doesn’t yell, but he does mimic Yuji’s motion, holding his own arrow up. Most of the people in the dining hall, including you and Choso, clap and laugh. 

Yuji bows as if he’s an actor on a stage, then he and Megumi are at the food table, already filling plates. Choso walks over and supervises them, making sure they don’t make a mess. 

Surprisingly, both boys elect to sit at Nanami’s table with him, chatting animatedly. Choso seems to notice your confusion. 

“They like to play with Gojo, but they like to talk to Nanami,” he says. 

Looking across the room, you can’t hear what’s being said, but the blonde trainer is looking at the kids with a warm expression while they seem to ramble on to him. 

“It’s nice that the other trainers are friendly to them,” you say. 

Choso’s smile is lovely. “I’m really thankful to them for being so kind to Yuji. I know he can be a bit… rambunctious. But no one complains.”

Your eyes shift to the table a few feet away with a lone occupant. Sukuna is eating his dinner like usual, taking no interest in the kids. 

“Even Sukuna?” 

Choso wears an uneasy expression. “Well, he doesn’t complain, but-“

“I don’t like Sukuna!” Yuji suddenly says beside you, seeming to appear at your table out of the blue. “He’s mean!”

You glance nervously at the tattooed trainer, knowing he’s close enough to hear. He looks at Yuji and gives the child a menacing grin. He doesn’t say a word, but from the look on his face, you can practically hear him saying, “The feeling’s mutual, brat!”

Yuji flinches, but doesn’t flee or back down. 

“How is he mean?” you ask, curious. 

Yuji frowns at the man before turning his attention back to you. “He says bad words all the time without apologizing. He won’t play with me or Megumi, and he never lets me meet his girlfriends!”

Before you can respond, Yuji is already heading back to Nanami’s table. Choso gives a somewhat apologetic wave to Sukuna, who shrugs. 

“He never complains, even though Yuji antagonizes him sometimes,” Choso tells you. “But he’s not friendly with him either. I can’t expect everyone to spoil Yuji, so I’m just glad Sukuna puts up with him.”

You relax slightly as the dining hall calms down. Both boys are eating beside Nanami and his doll, and all the other trainers are chatting and eating like normal people. Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you pull it out to look at the screen. Your sister has sent you a message to let you know she finished all her paperwork for starting classes. You send her a happy, cheering emoji and smile as you put your phone away. 

************************

Hours later, after dinner, Choso and his doll are walking down the hall, toward the kitchen. Yuji and Megumi said they want a “snack for dessert”, so they ran ahead to pick something. 

As the two adults approach the door to the kitchen, his doll suddenly freezes and holds up a hand, silencing whatever Choso was saying. 

“Did Yuji just say he could climb to reach something?”

Choso is momentarily confused. He didn’t hear anything. But the doll dashes through the door at top speed, Choso following after her. 

As they burst into the kitchen, they see Yuji on top of the counter, in the process of falling backwards off it. Choso’s immediate reaction is to try to dive for him, but his doll is closer. She rushes forward and catches Yuji in her arms, the two of them falling to the floor. She lands on her ass, cradling Yuji, protecting him from the impact.  

She barely takes a moment to wince before she’s looking the child over. “Are you okay?”

Yuji looks stunned for a few seconds, but quickly recovers. “I’m fine!”

She sighs with relief, then her face becomes stern. “Don’t ever do that again! Climbing on the counters is dangerous. You could’ve been hurt!”

Yuji looks shocked. He’s not used to being scolded by anyone besides his grandpa. Choso is well aware that he’s way too soft on Yuji, and perhaps a strong scolding is good for him, especially in a case like this. 

“I’m sorry,” Yuji says, looking dejected as he climbs out of the doll’s lap. 

She gets to her feet and smiles down at him. “It’s okay. Just be careful from now on, okay? You scared me. Think about how sad your brother would be if you got hurt while visiting him.”

Yuji looks at Choso, his big eyes glossy. “Sorry, Choso!”

Choso walks over and rubs Yuji’s hair affectionately. “I’m not mad. I’m just relieved that you’re okay.”

“I told him not to,” Megumi says, his arms crossed. When he stands there like that, he looks just like his father. 

Yuji turns sharply to look at his friend, as if he’s been betrayed. 

Megumi’s slightly smug expression falters. “What? It’s the truth!”

Choso pats Yuji’s head again. “Don’t be mad at Megumi. It sounds like he was giving you good advice. You should listen to him. Now, what were you trying to reach?”

Yuji is such a sweet, bright young man. He doesn’t linger on negative feelings and never pouts. So he’s almost immediately back to normal, pointing to a box of chocolate snack cakes in the top cabinet. Apparently he’d seen Gojo get some out earlier, so he remembered where they were. 

Choso’s doll pulls the box down and gets out a small, individually wrapped cake for each of the boys. They take them, thank her, and then they both run back out of the kitchen and toward the empty room they’ve been using to play in. 

Once they’re gone, his doll turns to him. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have scolded Yuji. It wasn’t my place. I think my big sister instincts just kicked in when I heard him say he was going to climb.”

Choso gives her a warm smile. “No, you were right to say what you did. He can be a bit reckless at times, and it worries me. But I’m too easy on him to say anything. Thank you for catching him.”

She smiles back. “Anytime.”

Later that night, Toji drives both boys home. He’s done this a few times now, so he knows where Yuji lives, and it’s on his way. Choso thanks him when he returns. 

“No problem,” Toji replies. “My kid actually talks to me when your brother is around.”

After the other trainer goes to his room, Choso’s doll stands beside him. “Sounds like he and Megumi have a complicated relationship.”

“I suppose they do. I had a complicated relationship with my own father,” he says. 

“Same here. I guess that’s pretty common.”

He glances at her, wishing he knew more about her, wishing he knew everything about her. But she’ll be gone in a couple of weeks, and he’ll never see her again. She said she wanted them to be friends, but how would her new owner react to her remaining in contact with her trainer? It would be highly unprofessional on Choso’s part. 

Actually, he wishes she could just stay with him. 

***********************

Several days later, you walk into the welcome room to find Choso accepting a package from the delivery man, bowing slightly as he thanks the man. 

You look at the plain brown box in his hands, your heart beginning to race as you approach him. “Is that it?”

Choso notices you, blushes, but then grins. “It is. Want to open it now?”

“Definitely,” you say, and the two of you return to his room. 

In the early days of the training, Choso told you to order whatever you wanted to use in the training sessions and he would pay for it. You’ve ordered a few items but nothing really special. A few days ago you spotted this item, and after asking Choso if it’s something he’d be okay with using, you ordered it immediately. Since then, all you can think about is trying it out. 

Choso sits the box on the bed and gestures for you to go ahead and open it. You feel like a kid at Christmas as you tear the box open and remove your prize. 

It’s a bright red double-sided strap on. There’s an impressive silicone appendage sticking out from the front, and an equally impressive one sticking out from the inside of the strap, which is supposed to go inside you. 

When you first approached Choso about the idea of pegging him, you were a bit nervous. But he told you he enjoyed it under the right circumstances (plenty of lube and a careful partner). 

“I think it would be amazing with you,” he told you, his eyes shining with excitement. 

So after some prep work, you find yourself standing naked in his room, him on his knees in front of you, eating you out to get you slicked up. When you’re ready, he helps you pull the strap on up and into you. It’s a snug fit, and the thought that the same thing will be going inside Choso makes you clench. 

You stand with the bright red dildo hanging over Choso’s face, and he looks up at you expectantly. 

“Suck me off,” you tell him, and he begins licking the dildo, his tongue moving over it in such an erotic way, you imagine you can feel it. When he takes it into his mouth and moves his head back and forth, the motion causes the dildo inside you to move, stirring you up. You moan and grab his hair, guiding his head to a rhythm. 

It feels so good, and Choso looks so fucking hot on his knees, deep throating the dildo, you’re on the edge of cumming within minutes. But you hold back, and instead gently push him back and then lead him to the bed. 

He slips his black pants down his hips and steps out of them, along with his boxers. He’s already hard, a pink dusting on his cheeks as he climbs onto the mattress and gets into position, on his knees, facing the foot of the bed. You climb on behind him, a bottle of lube in your hand. 

Looking down at him, you find yourself mesmerized by how tight and smooth his ass is. He’s definitely put some work into getting such a fine, toned body. You rub and squeeze his ass for a moment before drizzling the lube liberally over him and the strap on. You rub it in, taking care to do it thoroughly. The last thing you want to do is hurt him. 

You spread his firm cheeks and press one finger into him, testing to be sure he’s nice and slippery. He seems to tense up slightly, and you grin as you give his ass a light, playful slap. “Are you ready?” you ask, removing your finger and watching his cute asshole clench the air. 

“Yes, Mistress,” he replies, eyes forward. There’s a bit of a crack in his voice that sends a shiver through you. 

Satisfied that you’re both prepared, you line the silicone dick up with Choso’s hole and slowly, carefully, ease it into him. He makes a small gasping sound as it goes further in, but otherwise remains calm and quiet until it’s all the way in. 

You experiment with a few shallow thrusts, enjoying the way your end feels inside you and the way Choso’s muscles ripple beneath you. Leaning forward, you put your mouth close to his ear and say, “How does it feel?”

“It feels good, Mistress,” he says, in that shuddering voice you love so much. 

Gradually, you begin thrusting deeper and harder, listening to his grunts and moans to determine whether it feels good or hurts. He agreed beforehand to let you know if he felt any discomfort, but you still want to take care with him. 

As your thrusts speed up, the dildo on your end moves back and forth, thrusting into you as well. You find yourself moaning along with Choso as you fuck him. 

You notice his body is quivering with pleasure, his strong arms trembling as they try to hold him up. His hair is loose, the way you like it, spilling over his face in sweaty strands. You reach around him and gently grip his hard, leaking cock. He moans as you begin stroking him, using the same rhythm as your thrusts. His cock feels lovely in your hand, all hot and slick and throbbing. Your thrusts become faster as chase your own pleasure, the silicone rod inside you making the perfect amount of friction with every move. 

“Mistress,” Choso’s strained voice says between groans, “m-may I cum? Please?”

The pulse of his cock is faster now, the appendage twitching in your grip. You stroke him a few moments longer, thrusting deeply into him, before finally moving your hand down to give his balls a squeeze. “Cum for me,” you whisper into his ear, pushing into him as far as possible. 

He moans loudly as he cums, shooting his load onto the sheets, his body shaking. Seeing and hearing it is enough to bring you to your own orgasm, and you keep thrusting as the pleasure overtakes you. 

You’re left panting, collapsed on top of Choso, the dildo slipping out of him and hanging between your bodies. When you have the strength, you draw back and begin unfastening the strap on. Choso turns around and helps you remove it. The inner dildo, that had been inside you, is sticky and glistening. Before you can reach for it, Choso holds it up to his mouth and begins licking it clean. 

Fuck, he’s amazing. How are you supposed to just move on to some other man after being with someone so perfect? No one is ever going to compare to him. Choso not only pleases you sexually, but he’s a kind and responsible man who makes your heart flutter. You’re starting to seriously dread the end of the training. If only you could just… stay here. 

*****************

The following evening, Choso is getting ready to take his nightly shower when he notices something amiss. His doll is looking at her phone, and instead of the usual bright smile she wears while texting her sister, her face is becoming increasingly distraught. 

She looks up at him, the phone now trembling in her hand. “I have to go home, right now,” she says, her voice shaky. “My sister is in trouble.”

Choso feels a spike of alarm. “What’s wrong?”

Her eyes are full of anger and fear as she says, “Yosaku broke into our house. He said if he can’t have her, no one can! She’s hiding in the bathroom!”

Tag List:

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[moonyasnow]

Troubled Sleep?

The one where Malleus and Irina have a sleepover

OC(S) : Irina

OTHER CHARACTER(S) : Malleus, Lilia

TYPE : Fic (~6.6k words)

CONTENT : mostly fluff and a liiiittle bit of angst (it gets better), a bit of hurt/comfort, mostly cute and light-hearted for once, lots of dialogue, a bit of an insight into Leomoe (Tomoe x Leona) too, some descriptions of Agoraphobia

WARNINGS : flashbacks of parents fighting, mentions of past/ongoing SH (Flashback will be marked with <----------->)

...Nothing happens to me, I had come to terms with All the things that I thought I'd never indulge in "Take all that you can get 'cause you aren't worth it" You make that me feel at ease, I have to admit....

..Everything is so brand new I don't know what I'm gonna do I've never said a word I've never let anyone see through Tell me why the fuck I wanna spill my guts to you..

-Irina-

She arrived at Diasomnia with a small plastic bag in her arms bearing the logo of 'MISTER S' MYSTERY SHOP'; inside was a toothbrush and the outer robe of the school's Ceremonial garb, which both she and Tomoe had used as pyjamas since they slept in them that first night in Ramshackle. They'd simply become both their 'sleep clothes' by that point, since they were hardly ever needed for anything else, and they managed to keep the cold that seeped through Ramshackle's poorly isolated walls somewhat at bay.

By this point the sight of the grand castle no longer floored her as it once did, having grown accustomed to it after so many visits to see her friend. Instead, gazing up the tower in which his room resided, her heart beat louder in anticipation as she walked across the creaking wood bridge.

She knocked on the big port gates, and waited, soon being greeted by a Diasomnia student.

"Oh, um, hello." She nodded in greeting. "I'm here to visit my friend—"

"Yeah yeah, the Housewarden again, got it." She closed her mouth in embarrassment as they opened the gate wide enough for her to step into the foyer.

"So uh, do you want me to...to go...t-tell him you're here?" She could see their skin pallor. She bit her lip, gripping the bag cradled in her arms a little tighter, and she couldn't keep her brows from slanting downward ever-so-slightly, annoyance bubbling up in her chest.

'Do you have to act like I'd be sending you off to die?'

"Oh, Irina."

Her heart leapt into her throat and felt like it hit a wall, making her entire body tense up and jump, as well as reflexively curl her toes tensely into the soles of her shoes. But she didn't make a sound.

As she cautiously looked to her right, she saw the owner of the voice, hanging upside down. Seeing it was at least someone she recognized, she exhaled slightly, shoulders relaxing just the tiniest bit.

When she met his eyes a mischievous smile stretched across his face, one which told her he knew exactly what he was doing scaring her.

Turning his body in the air, he gracefully landed on his feet next to her and the other student, the tips of his hair still hovering until a second after he'd put both feet on the ground.

"You're quite early."

"I-I'm sorry, should I not have...?" She bowed her head in greeting, like she'd watched Tomoe do so many times and over time just adopted as part of her own body language.

"No, no, it's not a problem." His smile mellowed with a shake of his head. "Come, I'll walk you there."

Making their way quickly through the Lounge, they began the trek— and really, it was a trek, given how large the Dorm was— to Malleus' room.

"He has been very excited about today for quite a while. Now, don't tell him I said this, but earlier I found him cycling through scores of differing themes for decorations. And when I asked, he said he'd been doing so 'only for three hours'." He giggled, telling the story mostly to himself.

As they continued ascents up narrow spiral stairways and walks through long, near-empty hallways on a path she was well familiar with by that point, she felt a bit silly. Really, she hadn't needed Lilia to walk her there, knowing the way so well, but she didn't want to seem rude by saying that. And...

Passing through the cold, grey, stone hallways with its wide, lattice-detailed windows on either side, she always felt so small. Like a rabbit out in a wide open field with short-cut grass. She was relieved to for once not be walking through them alone.

The times she did, she always hurried, glancing over her shoulders often, rushing to his room like it was a safe haven. Which, in a way, it was.

After they had finally reached the top of the last flight of stairs he said:

"It frustrates you to see people's aversion to Malleus, does it?"

Though her face didn't show it, the question caught her off-guard. 'He saw my face when I was talking to that student...' She clutched her bag tighter again, a sense of unease welling up in her.

"Um..."

"It's good he has someone like you." she noticed the warm lilt in his voice. "I'm sure I speak for both of us when I say I'm glad you're not afraid of him."

She didn't know how to respond to that unexpected statement of gratitude. Especially when she'd been expecting a lecture of some kind. It didn't make any sense for her to think he'd scold her. But still, it had been her first reaction.

"Ah, here we are!" the announcement made her loosen her tight grip of the bag. He then turned to speak to her.

"Now, Irina, would you like me to get you anything to eat?"

"Huh? Oh, n-no thank you, I'm fine. I wouldn't want to bother you..." before he had a chance to respond she added: "I already ate a little before I came here."

"Ah, if you've already eaten, that would defeat the point. But I'd gladly make you a meal anytime! You're quite small for your age; I sometimes worry you aren't eating enough."

"Ah..." Her heart suddenly felt queasy. "Th-thank you." She smiled and sweat-dropped, before she went to open the door.

She curled her hand around the cold, metal handle of the black, arch-shaped door.

Mindlessly, she opened the door and out of habit lifted up her head to scan through the area beyond it. When she saw the white and black tiled floor, the purple fabrics and the large stone dragon statue, her heart stilled its frantic battering almost immediately, the only goose-bumps remaining on her skin being on her back as she had it turned to Lilia.

And when she saw him, saw Peridot, like clockwork, her entire being seemed to come alive like a flower seeing the sun, and she gasped without meaning to. She swung the door open and took a step forward— then turned around in a panic to bow her head to Lilia.

"Thank you!" Before turning once more, as quickly as she could, to the cause of the feeling of lightness blooming in her bones. "Peri!" She couldn't wipe the smile off her face.

"My Child of Man." He beamed. They were long past the formalities extended to a a newcomer or even infrequent visitor. "You arrived early. Here I was planning to await your arrival, that I may invite you in myself."

"Should I come later next time?"

"Hm. No, that won't be necessary. I'll simply arrive an hour earlier to await you." he smiled casually with his hands on his hips as though it were the only logical conclusion.

Her eyebrows shot up.

"Oh, y-you don't need to—" She recalled hearing that he'd once waited for three hours for a Housewarden meeting to begin, and her guilt ebbed away.

"Well...only if you're sure you want to."

His smile stretched wider as his eyes closed.

"Of course."

'He'd really want to wait for me that long?'

It tickled her chest warmly.

'Does that mean I'm…important to him…?'

Her face began to feel warmer.

Hearing a giggle from nearby, both their heads turned to Lilia.

"I'll leave you to it. Have fun you two!"

-^-v-^-v-^- [ Malleus' Bedroom ] -^-v-^-v-^-

She exited the ensuite bathroom of his Housewarden's dorm room clad in her sleeping robe and saw him sitting on the couch, his bedside table having been moved, now covered in a small tray of cookies. He was wearing a long, black nightshirt that she thought seemed about 200 years out of fashion. For a second she was surprised he'd managed to change so quickly (and didn't seemingly care that she could open the door and catch him at any moment) but then she remembered he probably just snapped his fingers to get changed. She felt a bit embarrassed of her own clothing, an explanation of how they couldn't afford to buy any clothes on the tip of her tongue. But to her relief, he didn't comment on it as she went to sit on the couch next to him.

"I've never slept in the same room as someone else before... So, um...what do people do at sleepovers?"

"Oh?" He cocked his head to the side. "I had assumed you would know of such things."

"I-I'm sorry..." he shook his head in response.

"Fear not, for I acquired that information myself, using one of the machines you humans call 'computers' open to public use in the library." He smiled, looking very pleased with himself.

"You managed to use a computer?" Her eyes widened. Most likely thinking it was in awe, his smile grew even more pleased.

"I did indeed. The Heartslabyul senior, Diamond, instructed me on how to operate the device." He watched her listen to him with rapt attention "Although..." He put a hand to his chin, glancing sideways into recollection. "I did break the tool used to operate it; a 'mouse' I believe it was called? What a flimsy piece of plastic…it crumbled beneath my hand as easily as a dry autumn leaf."

"Oh..." she blinked, giving him a sympathetic expression. "I hope you didn't get in trouble for it." her concern was genuine.

"One of the staff ghosts did become rather upset, and requested I pay back the cost of the item, though that was all. You need not be worried for me. Though I admit I am pleased to know of your concern." He smiled at her once more, dark lips curving upwards in a motion she couldn't force herself not to watch intently.

"So, um, what did you learn?"

She asked, trying to keep her mind from wandering.

"It seems the gist of it is to wear nightclothes, partake in treats, and merely talk. And so, I had some prepared." a troubled look flashed in his eyes. "Upon hearing me speak of it, Lilia was adamant he prepare them…" He shuddered in silence.

'Oh, right, I forgot...Lilia's food is inedible, isn't it?' "It was nice of him to offer, at least?" she cocked her head to the side.

"Indeed." he offered a small sigh. "Although I have long since given up urging him to consider changing his way of 'cooking'."

'Oh, right, I forgot...Lilia's food is inedible, isn't it?' He let out a short, mirthful chuckle. "Though, Artemisia has not yet learned that lesson. She appears vexed by her inability to solicit a change in his culinary habits, no matter the myriad of times she has suggested advice or recipes. She even spoke of gifting him several cook-books for his birthday."

"Would...would that even help?" She whispered the latter part, even leaning closer, as though entrusting him with a secret.

"Given that he already claims to follow recipes...I am unsure."

"Ah, how careless of me, I nearly forgot. to enquire... How are your own dorm-mates faring?" he Has anything of note occurred in Ramshackle as of recent?"

"Oh, Leona has come to Ramshackle a few times recently."

"Kingscholar has?"

"Mhm." She nodded. "He eats dinner there sometimes. But I've only been there once when he's been there. Tomoe usually tells me in advance…" Her tone wilted.

"Do you wish to avoid Kingscholar?"

"'Avoid' is a bit of a strong word…I just... want to give them some time to themselves." She curled up into herself on the couch, hugging her legs with one arm and speaking into the top of her knees. "Tomoe, Leona and Grim…they look a bit like a family when they're together. And it just…makes me feel a bit awkward when I'm there. Like I'm intruding…" She realized instantly that this would be considered 'over-sharing' talking to someone. "Um, I mean-- i-it's not that bad, I just- I'm just not really used to someone who isn't me, Grim or Tomoe being there." She fiddled with the fabric of the couch, lightly scratching her nail over it through her glove, and tried to swallow back the tears she could feel behind her eyes, threatening to spill.

'Why am I crying this time? So annoying…get over yourself. Just because you feel a bit lonely doesn't mean you have to cry about it. And why are you lonely in the first place? Just making a big deal out of nothing again…'

She felt a warmth enfold her hand. Looking down, she saw his bigger, pale hand on top of her gloved one.

"You will never be an intruder here." His voice instantly drew her attention toward him.

She looked at him with a subtle expression he'd come to recognize as one of surprise by the almost blank look on her face and the subtle raising of her eyebrows.

Her heart fluttered. Right… This wasn't 'someone new'. This was Peridot. Malleus.

Silently, she squeezed his hand back. Like he squeezed her heart.

"You mentioned that they 'look like a family'?"

"Right. I think so, at least…I think that's what a family looks like— should look like, I mean…" She still wasn't used to how honest he made her.

"What might you mean by that, more specifically?"

"Um, well… Sometimes, it's like Grim is their child. Like that time I was there: Tomoe was cooking dinner, and Grim and Leona were in the kitchen with her. Grim asked something about how much longer was left til the food was done…then Leona said that if he was going to keep complaining about the time, he should just help Tomoe. And Tomoe said that the same thing went for Leona, too." A small smile crept onto her face. "Then she called them both 'hungry kitties'."

"Kingscholar, a 'hungry kitty', hm?" Closing his eyes, he chuckled.

"…It is a little funny." And she did, too. "Ah, b-but please don't tell Leona I said that… Or that I told you about Tomoe saying that. I think he only doesn't mind when Tomoe says it…" 'If he found out I told someone else about it, Peri especially, I think he'd be mad…'

"Very well. If that is your wish." he said, still smiling. "Still…" and he laughed again. "It will be amusing, to hold such knowledge of him the next time we speak." he gazed off into the distance, in thought. "He does not mind Sakurada being the one to refer to him as such, then?"

"Well… When she said that, they both got upset. But I think it was only because she compared them to each other." Replaying the incident in her mind, she couldn't help but laugh. "Grim said 'myah, I ain't anything like that lazy ol' lion!' and Leona said something like 'Don't compare me to that fur-ball, Herbivore.' And then she said 'Yes, you're both very different.'"

He laughed again.

Hearing that deep, almost rumbling sound, she was utterly enchanted. It was beautiful. And in that moment, laughing at what was essentially gossip, all the while she could see a crumb from the cookies they'd been eating stuck at the corner of his lip, she wondered how anyone would ever be able to look at him and see someone to be feared.

She wanted so badly to sit up on her knees and lean over to cup his face in her hands, and kiss him. She'd never had that desire before. If she'd ever had a crush— or what she thought was a crush…she really couldn't tell anymore, with how she always forgot her feelings felt as soon as they went away— she never had thoughts like that. She wanted their attention on her, yes, and felt overjoyed when they did look at her or talk to her, but this was different. She'd never wanted to specifically do something before— much less do it herself.

She was never one to initiate anything.

And she wouldn't this time either.

But she'd wanted to. So badly that it hurt, the ache of yearning pulsating in tune to her loud heartbeat, resounding from her throat. She forced away the thought of what kissing him might feel like.

-^-v-^-v-^- [ Malleus' Bedroom, Later ] -^-v-^-v-^-

Bringing the candelabra from the desk as quietly as she could, she set it down on the floor in front of her, lighting just one of the candles.

The couch at the end of the bed, where she was meant to sleep, was empty save for a single pillow.

She sat on the floor, near the edge of the carpet, with the heels of her feet on the lightly fuzzy surface and her toes on the cold black and white tile. She was using the purple blanket she'd been given as a shield draped over her small body, its tassels tickling her.

She'd tried to sleep. But she just couldn't. The quiet in the room seemed to want to surround her on all sides, pressing against her like plastic in a vacuum former.

On nights like these, she at least always used to have her plush rabbit Clover with her. She would hug it, and feel less scared; less alone. Because she imagined it could feel the same feelings as she did. That she wasn't alone, that someone could understand the feelings that took over her, that she someone to suffer alongside her. The illusion, for that is all it ever could grant her, at least gave her a little strength.

Yet Clover was no longer with her. It was back in her world; back on earth. Probably in her bag, or in her bed, where she usually kept it. So all she could do was hold herself. Yet it wasn't enough.

Her arms were too…her. Thin, and cold.

She could never mistake them for the touch of another.

Blankets had so often acted as her shield, a warm weight surrounding her, cocooning her, keeping her safe. But now, with no Clover to hold to complete the puzzle, it felt like just what it was: fabric.

Moments like this, with her curled up on the floor in a blanket close to night, reminiscent of similar nights from when she was a child, was always when she could hear her parents the clearest. She imagined them there, arguing, just on the other side of the door…

<----------------------------------------------------------------------------> The crashing sound of the table being flipped over, the plates and drinking glasses crashing loudly to the floor, the sounds of them breaking apart invading her mind, sending adrenaline pumping through her system, making her curl up tighter beneath the blanket.

'Then why don't YOU get off your ass and get a job yourself, huh?!' A muffled yell. A sputter was the answer.

'You DARE to say that when it is MY family's money you're squandering?! And you have not forgotten the neighbors threatened to call someone if we left her alone again, yes? Either stay home with her yourself for once, get a job, or stop going to the pub and count yourself lucky we get that money at all!'

'The money's in our account. If I have to put up with your bitching and whining, I sure as hell deserve a break from it! It's not like I asked for your parents to take fucking pity on us. In fact, I wish they hadn't! I wish I'd never fucking met you!'

'And you think that I asked for this?! You believe I wanted to spend the rest of my life with a foul-mouthed, brainless, pathetic dead-beat like yo—'

— SLAP —

'Fucking bitch. SHUT! UP!'

Someone fell to the floor, panting.

'I can't deal with this fucking shit.'

The front door was opened, then slammed shut. Leaving her alone in the house with her upset mother. If she went out of her room to pee, she would be yelled at. <---------------------------------------------------------------------------->

She was breathing heavier. Her body quivered beneath the blanket. She shook her head from side to side, scratching at the skin of her scalp, gritting her teeth, willing the memories to go away.

'I-I'm safe here…it's ok. I-It's ok. They're not there. It's not real. I'm just—just imagining it. So stop imagining it! Stop it! I don't want to think about it! Go away!'

She covered her head with the blanket and curled up impossibly smaller. As small as the laws of physics would allow without her breaking or dislocating anything. She stretched the fabric to its limits and gripped it hard, willing it tighter over her bones.

She whimpered. It just wouldn't go away. It wouldn't stop. The blanket didn't help. The blanket always used to help, at least a little. Why didn't it this time?

She huddled closer to the candle, hoping to feel soothed by the light. She whimpered again. Louder this time. Without thinking, she put the middle bone of her index finger between her teeth and bit down, feeling the familiar, soothing ache of pain.

Looking at her hand she saw bite marks. Some old, but others new, the most recent only having scabbed over a week prior. There were more under the sleeves, on both of her arms. It was the only thing she knew to do to soother her on-the-inside pain, an itch she'd never been taught how to scratch at, replacing it instead with causing herself on-the-outside pain.

'I won't bite hard…I can't. I couldn't explain the blood to him.' But she wanted to. To distract herself, give herself another reason— a more legitimate reason— to whimper. In pain, this time. She deserved to feel pain anyway.

She...she wanted it.

'That's…'

<----------------------------------------------------------------------------> —SLAP— <---------------------------------------------------------------------------->

'That's what happens when you're bad…' And wasn't she bad? She felt bad. Always. Always, always, always. 'Just a burden...a useless burden who never did anything for anyone. All I did was make everyone's lives worse. Just kept leeching off the wasted good will of others. Of the orphanage owners. Of my uncle. He probably never cared anyway. Why would he? He's...he's probably happy I'm gone. If he even realized it at all.'

But...often, the pain she caused herself felt good to her. It felt familiar, like relief. Almost even loving; the near life-long habit having encoded a sense of the familiar, of the safe, into the act of causing herself pain. But that it was still pain, something bad that she thought she deserved, kept her from denying herself the sensation, the same way she had with almost every other thing that she liked.

But...he wouldn't like it. If he knew she'd hurt herself. And she couldn't clean it off or change into something else.

Her eyes ached, primed to spill over. She knew she'd start sobbing soon.

Dread muddled through her veins thick and slow, the urge drawing her in closer and closer, like a whirlpool. She had to, she had to, she had to, she had to; nothing else would make the dread and fear and panic and desperation go away. The pain would comfort her. It was this or Clover, and Clover was gone—

"Child of Man?"

Her breath hitched. She dropped her hand— barely an inch away from her teeth, into her lap, biting down on her lip instead. She hid her hand back inside the blanket as quick as she could. Caught up in her own spiral, she'd missed him stirring awake.

"Why are you awake? Did something happen?" he asked with a sleepy voice.

'Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no— h-how do I— I shouldn't be awake right now. How do I explain—'

He'd slipped out of his bed to come closer to her.

"I…" she looked away from him in shame. In an instant, an excuse formed in her head. "I had a nightmare…"

Lying was easier than sharing the real reason. But why? She didn't think he'd be upset; that wasn't what she was worried about. She just…didn't want to get into explaining why she couldn't sleep.

"Oh, did you now?" He sat down next to her. Something in her hardened, like a see-through beetle-shell formed around her mind. It calmed her. At the expense of wiping any expression from her face, any vulnerable sincerity from her voice.

"Do you wish to discuss it? I recall Lilia would ask Silver the same once upon a time."

Still not looking at him, she shook her head. "It's okay. I'm used to it. I have them a lot." Her muscles had gone tense, leaving her feeling like a wire skeleton beneath a cloth exterior. Had she been more aware, she would have been surprised to hear the admission of often having nightmares spill from her lips at all; she'd only ever heard it spoken inside of her head before.

A moment of silence followed.

Then she felt his hand on her back. She couldn't keep from flinching. She was sure he felt it too.

"...Child of Man." He spoke in a low, serious voice, causing a slow build-up of dread over her bones. "Look at me."

Slowly, reluctantly, she did.

"So long as I am here..." she leaned back her head to look up at him. As purple met green, the beetle-shell began to slowly melt, thawing like ice."No... So long as I draw breath," his hand drew nearer her, to brush a lock of hair behind her ear... "no evil shall touch you." ...but stopped just before his hand reached her face.

"Even if I fall into slumber," she saw his eyebrows were furrowed ever-so-slightly. "I shall awaken the instant you call for me."

Her lips parted in surprise. She felt something violently grab hold of both her heart and throat and squeeze, taking her breath with it. It hurt, in an 'on-the-inside' way. It was new. Overwhelming. It tasted bittersweet, like medicine.

'...Why? Why would he...?'

"Goodnight, my Child of Man."

The second he began to move away, she felt the sudden loss of that warm, bewildering feeling, replaced too many horrible emotions to name crackling through her body all at once.

"Wait!" The word flew from her lips before she could stop it. Him leaving, even if he were just a meter or two away and would wake up if she called for him, felt horrible. The thought of him not being right next to her, even just to sleep, felt unbearable. And she knew that…she would feel safe if she were next to him. If he were to hold her. The mere thought consumed her body, mind and heart with longing, with want. With shame, too. Shame at daring to think she could ever be allowed something so wonderful.

"…Um…" she said so quietly she was sure he would miss it; it was the strongest she could manage to make her voice in that moment.

"I…" Digging her nails into her wrist, she made herself look up at him and force the words from her lips. "C-can I…sleep next to you?"

She watched, almost in slow-motion, as his expression turned to one of shock.

"You would..." his deep voice began, almost as much of a whisper as her own words.

His parted lips slowly gave way to a smile, brows coming back down. Beneath them his eyes narrowed into slivers of peridot green, crinkling warmly at the edges.

"Of course."

Her eyes widened. 'R-really…?' It was her turn to be stunned. 'He'd really want me to sleep next to him?' Her heart started beating unsteadily, accompanied by a dizzying, nauseating feeling. 'Too good to be true' she'd always called that feeling.

'No, it's probably just because I basically begged him… Not because he wanted to…' He took her hand in his, thankfully not looking at them as he helped her up from the ground. Instead he looked into her eyes. She couldn't look away even if she wanted to. Which she didn't. '…I don't know. I hope he wants to…' When it came to him, she could never convince herself of the words she was so used to thinking.

She would never understand how he could do that. She'd spent her entire life trying and failing to quiet the rioting, wailing thoughts that had scratched at the inside of her skull for as long as she could remember. But all he had to do was look at her, and they faded to silence.

Then she smiled, too. A look of relief on her face.

He lead her by the hand, to the side of the bed. Seeing him sit down and pat the spot next to him, she slowly climbed up and onto the mattress, his hand having extended the blanket until she got in. Expecting to hear creaking metal springs and feel rough linen- not because she thought that's what his bed would be like, but because it was what she herself was used to- she was surprised to see her knee sink into the soft mattress under her weight, then rise right back up as it left with her. He closed the curtains around the bed, enveloping them both in darkness.

For just a moment when they laid down, she was tense, not knowing what to do. But when he covered them both with his blanket- thick, and enchanted, to keep his reptilian blood warm- it was washed away like the closing of an open window that had rattled in the wind. Still, her heart beat loudly.

His bed was very soft, and warm. It felt different from every other bed she'd ever slept in. The sheets were the softest she'd ever touched; they felt like silk. 'They probably are.' The second her head touched his pillow, she thought she was melting into it.

"It's so soft!" she couldn't help but exclaim. "U-um, t-the pillow, I mean…"

"Is that so? If it pleases you, perhaps we should arrange more sleepovers. You are always welcome here."

"R-really?" then her face scrunched up in guilt. "It usually takes me a while to fall asleep…"

"Then shall I sing you a lullaby?" For a second, a spark of excitement glittered in her. The suggestion seemed so...intimate. Just the thought made her heart race...before she forced it to stop.

"I— w-well, what I meant was, I wouldn't want to keep you up so often, with me not being able to sleep..."

"In truth, I do not require much sleep. At least, not as much as humans do. So getting less of it would not negatively affect me as much as losing yours would you."

"So...I wouldn't be bothering you?" she already relished the sensation of being in such a soft place, hearing his voice so close to her in the darkness. 'I shouldn't ask for more than that...'

"You would not." she heard a smile in his voice, and hoped more than anything that she was right. "Though, that does bring me back to my question... Do you think that hearing a lullaby would aid you into sleep?"

"I…I don't know. I've never…really heard one. I mean, I have heard some, just...never had one sung to me." Embarrassment turned into shame and drenched her chest at the admission. 'Most parents sing lullabies to help their children sleep, don't they?'

"Hm." came his reply. She felt a long finger trace the palm of her hand. She froze to focus on the feeling. In the dark, all she could see were his eyes, glowing beautifully chartreuse, gaze still trained on her. Before his fingers all slipped between the gap of her thumb and index finger and held onto her hand gently. She held his back without even stopping to ponder it.

...Was this truly the kind of closeness 'friends' had? The gentle gazing into each other's eyes, holding each other in sleep, the emotion-filled words, promises spoken in hushed tones only to each other?

She didn't want to know. She didn't want it confirmed that it was only platonic, only to lose herself in yearning for something more and becoming discontent. And for the very same reason she didn't let herself even ponder the possibility of it being romantic.

Yearning for something more had never done her any good, only lead to her hopes being crushed, adding more fuel to the fire of the desperate felling of pure hell that always caught up with her sooner or later. So at some point she'd forced herself to stop. It was safer not to look past what was right in front of her. To not imagine any way it could be different...

"Then come closer, and listen well…" And she did, choosing to send her thoughts off with the wind. To once more think of nothing but the current moment.

He inhaled gently, and began to hum a smooth, baritone melody. The sound ran like a flowing stream through her ears, reverberating into the rest of her body. Closing her eyes, she imagined a forest, slivers of golden sunshine filtering through the green of the leaves and gleaming against the surface of a stream. Underneath a large tree, there she was, leaning against someone. Someone with beautiful green eyes.

She was warm, her mind felt fuzzy and her body…strangely heavy… And…safe. Like in this place, nothing would ever hurt her. Like closing her eyes wasn't dangerous. Like here, she could let down her guard without worry.

The tendrils of self-abuse that wanted to drill through her skull to pierce her brain and tell her how horrible she was for burdening him like this, or for 'lying' all to 'get her way' never came. They flitted around the room still, combing through the air. But they couldn't get to her now, in her…no, their cocoon.

Because he was there.

And he said no evil would touch her.

She knew he was right.

She felt her closed eyelids become heavier, locking in place, and her body sinking, sliding closer to his by the dip in the mattress caused by difference in weight.

Right there, body slotted so closely against his, she felt safe. Warm. Cherished, even. Like she…belonged there.

-^-v-^-v-^-

-Malleus-

He stopped singing. "…Irina?" he called out after a while. No answer came to the call of her name. She was fast asleep.

When she'd first asked, he was stunned. He had never slept in the same room as another before, much less in the same bed. Neither his grandmother nor Lilia had ever done as such when comforting him as a child. And as Crown Prince, he surely would never be 'weak' enough to not withstand solitude.

Her head was buried in his chest, and her warm, slow breaths almost tickled. He felt…strange. An unfamiliar sensation lighting up his chest; the urge to do…something. To do what, he couldn't quite place a name to. His heart murmured the vague shape of an idea into his ears, but the idea itself was shrouded in fog, its shape indiscernible. All he knew was the premonition that once he could put a name to and execute said action, it would fill him with a joy he could never before have imagined.

But not the kind that bubbled in him, the giddy fizzling embers she so often caused him.

No, this felt…deeper. The tightness in his chest sang a song similar to that of gratitude. And yet, it was not gratitude toward her that he felt. It was altogether strange.

Malleus looked at the girl in his arms. She was so small compared to him…and so warm.

Before she happened upon him on his walk near Ramshackle that night, how many times had he lamented how cold the world seemed? It could not only have been his quite literally cold-blooded body to blame. No, the cold seemed to seep into his very bones, into his soul. Into his heart. He was perpetually surrounded by a natural quiet; not a muffling or complete dispelling of sound— no, there simply was no sound to muffle or dispel in the first place. Empty. Save for him alone.

But since that night, the cold that crept so deep into his heart had slowly begun to recede. With each chance meeting. With each night-walk shared between the two of them.

The night she first invited him to go on another walk after the sun set the next day, he could have sworn his heart would fly out of his chest with how high it soared. He couldn't keep a smile off his face all day. All around him, people avoided him more than usual, likely on account of said smile. But he couldn't bring himself to care. Because for once, he had been invited to spend time with a friend. For once, he was wanted. Not as crown prince, not for his power...wanted for nothing more than his company; his time.

And now, she was there, in his arms. It felt like a miracle. One he should thank someone for. For her not fearing him. For her staying up late every night to go on walks with him. For her always listening to his rambles of his beloved gargoyles. For her coming close enough to touch his cold heart, covered in dust, and warm it in her hands.

He let his fingers wade through the thick, wavy tresses of her pale pink hair. He curled his body so his nose could nuzzle the top of her head.

'You truly are precious, my…' The usual name died on his tongue. It wasn't...special, enough. It was something he could call anyone else.

'…My Irina.'

He held her closer, curled his body up tightly around hers, imagining his draconic wings coming to shield her where she laid, like a precious treasure. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to keep her where she was, in his arms, forever— stealing her away like a dragon would a princess. To lock the both of them in one tower, where they would live out the rest of their days in bliss.

Such visions of an eternity spent together lulled him to sleep soon after, warm, with a smile on his lips.

-^-v-^-v-^- [ Diasomnia Dorm, the next morning ] -^-v-^-v-^-

-Lilia-

'Sitting' upside down on one of the sofa chairs in the lounge and reading the newspaper, Lilia's legs waved in the air in a content rhythm.

"He would usually be awake by this time..." He remarked to no one in particular by the time he'd finished the paper.

And so he waltzed in the air over the stone floor and hummed a bright, cheery tune from a video Kalim had sent to him— about cats in a marching band, if he remembered correctly— on the long trek, or well, flight, up to Malleus's chambers.

Once stood in front of the door, hand poised to knock, he thought better of it, instead slowly creeping in through the door.

Seeing the blanket on the floor, the couch empty, and the usually open curtains of Malleus' bed closed, he smiled knowingly to himself.

He peeked his face in through the curtains at the end of the bed, and a pair of green eyes opened and narrowed dangerously at him as Malleus' head shot up from the pillow to glower at him at the speed of his lightning. His murderous gaze, like a dragon prepared to guard his hoard, mellowed out into a mere pout when he realized who it was— a clear, silent sign telling him to 'leave'.

And so he made like a tree. He smiled widely and removed his face from the curtains, hearing a small hiss at the tiny sliver of light that escaped through before they properly closed again, before leaving quietly out the door.

'Should I draw up wedding plans already, I wonder…'

He giggled to himself as he went on his way.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

These fools don't know they're basically already in a relationship

Writing this made me cry multiple times because they are MEANT FOR EACH OTHER—

If you like Mallina just as much as I do, or even just 0,1% as much as I do, just send me a message ANYWHERE (comments, an ask(private if you'd like), a reblog, in the TAGS of a reblog, DM, etc.) and I will GLADLY add you to the tag list of any future stuff I make for them! ^^

Ignoring all my perfectionist thoughts to 'keep working on this for several months' and just posting it already

In my 'fuck it, we ball' era [ and it's so difficultttttttttttttt (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀) ]

fr you have no idea how proud of myself I am for only taking a month to write all this! My last proper fic took me FOUR months!

I'm just very proud of this one in general honestly~ Shows I really can make good stuff, even LONG stuff, when I put my mind to it!

Tag list: @another-random-paradise @thehollowwriter @faefum @cactus13-rolloflammesimp (thank you very much for the idea of this fic~!) @beneathsakurashade

@nyx-of-night

[lustale]

Hey! I'm a little confused here, what exactly is the difference between Lusttale and Underlust?

I know you said it's a revamp of sorts but I'm just genuinely confused on what the differences are.

Also, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly are the icks you have with Underlust that originally made you want to redo this AU? I've only ever really seen either the decent aspects of it or the fanon versions so I don't really know most of people's issues apart from the... Weird thing about Chara being in.. That kinda clothing.

Heyy! Ill try to explain :3 <3

Differences i wanted were these:

- Make the storyline more fluid and organized, idk felt like the og story rushed through to try and reach certain parts sooner

- Flesh out characters past the sexual deviant who have random, often uncalled for bursts of angst ( or just have ZERO self control )

- I tried to make some characters make better sense. Example, Chara and their trait/design, the reason for Frisk even going, ect - Give background characters a chance to be shown, not saying the WHOLE au with EVERY monster has to be designed, but its atleast nice and feels more detailed ( even Jerry eyeroll )

^ The AU also switched between being owned by the creator, to the creators mutual ( iirc ), to then being a community owned AU since the OG owner left it for mental health reasons. I originally wanted to continue the story, but rebuilding characters in a way it still resembles the original story with a few kind of tweaks helps it feel new, think like Ink Sans's redesign!

These were icks:

- Some characters had almost nothing fleshed out abt them, i totally understand why some dont (hard to flesh out a entire cast, some characters dont give enough to build off of, ect) but its personality stumping if the character is only shown for a sex joke or be background characters to another angst, example Alphys, shown very little unless to comment on MTT's body, or to be the one to help him (MTT one IS important but after that i barely remember her character outside that..) - I know that separating creator from creation is best way to go about some things, though knowing that they heavily shipped Fontcest (which their own AU was prone to have) and had done nsfw Frans art is gross enough for me to wanna not engage with the original au (small non UL related was a Nazi Chara they drew once, shockvalue humor or not why would you?)

- MTT's plot. I really hate how it went. Its not something im gonna remove, but its something i wanna try and do in a way that doesnt feel so abrupt yk? If that makes sense :,D

Other then the few points i can really give, i also just thought it would be nice to give UL a fresh coat of paint. Not like "i took things into my own hands", but just "this made me and alot uncomfortable, the AU is kinda just sitting there, lets try it " !

[welp-back-on-my-bs]

TW! History of SA and attempted R*pe

Type: hurt comfort (angst then fluff)

Silvio's Regret

The day was April 13th. It was before the king of Rohdinite died, before Belle was selected. Before Rio was found.

Morgan was still new to palace life. Even more so to liveing in Bennonite. They wondered around the palace, seeing it was oddly quiet. They couldn't find either Silvio nor André. It felt... off.

Emildio walked up to the lost enby, "Hello there. You're Silvio's current pet, right?"

"I'm not a pet." They glared at the prince.

"And I'm not a prince. I'm sure you're looking for your owner anyway." He didn't get a reply, so he continued "he usually is out at a bar. The old man gave him a lashing again. Quite pathetic, really."

"Whats more pathetic is talking shit behind your brothers back. Any dick sucking you need me to send him?"

"Not at all, I'm sure a woman will be by his side. A real one."

Morgan wasn't exactly affected by that little comment. They just left Emidio behind and went over to a nearby bar after dressing down a bit.

They went around the bar, looking for a lot of bottles, where women weren't, anything like that. But where they found the prince. Felt wrong to them.

He was clearly drunk, a woman getting really intimate with him. Too intimate. They both got up and Silvio paied the tab.

"Do you have a place nearby?~"

"Yeashhh"

That earned a soft giggle from the woman "any pla-"

"There you are, Silvio -"

"Who the hell are you?-" the woman snapped at them. "Are you trying to manipulate the poor prince in this weakend state?-"

"They would have done that mucccchhhhh sooner if they were" the drunk Silvio cut in, leaning on the two there for support

"I don't need to tell you, but I'm here to help him"

"Why would you steal him away from his fiance?-"

"Yeah- I would definitely have heard of that and of you. But, I haven't. I've actually never seen you before. So you're clearly not close to Silvio at all"

"I-"

"NO. You can back off. Think about shit. I'm taking him back to the palace."

"Nooo Morgieeee I don't wanna go there..."

"Hm? Why?"

"To saddddddd I gotta place nearby-"

"Ok- I remember all your places here, so let's go there-"

'I hope I actually remember...'

A bit later, Morgan managed to drag Silvio to one of his local vilas. Servants came and said that they would take him. Morgan refused them, asking for a bucket, water, and some bread.

Once into a room that they knew to be Silvios, they layed him onto the bed.

"Just get it over with..."

"What?-"

"You wanna get pregnant right...? Birth me an heir...?"

"N-no- I don't want that- I don't want to-" They were shaken up by the ask, a hand moved down to their stomach. As if remembering something no longer there.

"Then... why..."

"Because I'm your friend dumbass- I may be of Obsidian- but- but... I'd never take advantage of you like that."

The drunken Silvio looked at Morgan, shocked.

Then, let out a dry laugh. "Damn... the booze made things hard... I'm going to regret that when sober..."

Morgan sighed softly, then a knock was at the door.

Morgan opened it to retrieve what they asked for, denying the 'extras' they offered. Then they returned to Silvio and gave him the water.

"Tryin' ta get me moreeee drunk?-"

"No, I'm trying to make sure the hangover doesn't kill you-"

"... thanks..." Silvio gratefully took the water and sipped at it.

They placed the bucket by his bed, in case he couldn't even move in the morning.

"Do you want anything on the bread?"

"You?"

"Not happening. Anything else?"

"Just butter then" Silvio shrugged, Morgan put butter onto the bread and handed it to Silvio, who ate from their hand.

"... how did ya know..." Silvio softly asked, laying on Morgan's lap.

Morgan sighed softly, playing with Silvio's hair "I knew a man... who..." They sighed "I'll tell you that story when you're sober, ok...?"

Silvio chuckled and moved to look up at Morgan "it's funny... people want us when we don't want em... and when we want em... they don't want us..."

"Yeah... but you should finish your water... then you can sleep ok" They helped Silvio sit back up. He finished his water before laying back down in their lap.

"Tell me one of your stories...?"

"Fine- one, ok?" They smiled softly as Silvio cuddled close, grabbing their hand and moving it to his head.

Morgan obliged and started the story. It was about a pirate and a mermaid. The pirate had captured the mermaid, planning on selling her. But talking to her, she convinced him that if she was to be let go, she would help find him whatever treasures he desired. So, seeing that this was a good deal, he let the mermaid go. The crew was mad at the pirate, demanding that he prove that the mermaid was trustworthy. So he asked the mermaid to gather him a treasure of the sea. So she brought to him the most beautiful pearls.

So, with trust being formed, they both traveled the seas and fared for any treasure they could get. Some of the men of the ship wished the mermaid as the next treasure, either to sell or keep for themselves. The pirate told the mermaid to swim far away, to never listen to a request he gave again. So, the mermaid did.

The crew was upset that they lost their money maker, throwing the pirate overboard in relation. He sunk into the deapthes of the water until he saw the mermaid again. He was shocked and confused, and then the mermaid kissed him, returning his breath. He asked her why?- Why did she do such a thjng for him? Because I love you dearly. That's why.

They looked down to see Silvio was softly resting, looking at peace for the first time that day. They smiled gentley, moving Silvio's head onto his pellow, got up, and left.

[gummybearzgocrazyagain]

kinn/porsche fic rec

Fake Dating AU

Tell Me That You Love Me (even if it’s fake) by @whitewalkers [luuuuuv me a fandom as ripe with fake dating trope as kp, it never quite loses it’s charm innit. kinn has a high school reunion to attend, and of course why not use it as a ploy to sway his most annoying bodyguard into confessing his nascent feelings... well-done, tis a rec]

Vigilante/Special Agent AU

Deep Like a Coastal Shelf by @Lilla_Torg [aight so this is an author with the very distinguished storytelling pattern, that i can not help but appreciate, their world-building and characterization is usually top notch, and this particular babie is not an exception: porsche and chay were brought up by someone from the syndicate that targets organized crime, and now that people, who used to call themselves their parents, are gone, Porsche is left with the ominous List, and a black leather vigilante suit, to keep their legacy alive. korn and gun are dead, Main and Minor fams are combined, tankhun has taken over as the Leader. kinn handles their overseas ops. amazing quality of storytelling, as always. DNI if you can’t handle pairings other than kp, as this is a multi-pairing piece, as it is customary for this author. but again, the story is so good, i didn’t even skip kimchay/vegaspete bits, which is a feat on it’s own. max kudosssssss]

the house don’t fall (when the bones are good) by @bytheriveriwept [i often say that i luved some works, but there are works i luved, and then there are works i LUVVEEEEEEDDDDDDDD with my whole-ass heart, this bit of genius masterpiece is the case of the latter. kp are special agents, colleagues, parts of the same organization, cohesive unit, and all that. only until porsche decides to take on risqué assignment, and go undercover. will they still be them, when he is back....? what can i say, this was sooooooooo up my alley in so many ways, i don’t even wanna say no more, if you haven’t read this.... what the hell is you even doing]

Third person POV

First Impressions by @AirgiodSLV [oooohhhhh how i luv me some piece of delicious 3rd person pov, yummmmm, Bank is a new hire for the Major fam, and this is the first time he is present at the meeting between the families.... yumm👌]

Alternative Meeting AU

stumbling to the edge by @FireRisingOverTheHills [absolutely delightful and underrated series for those who is not looking for heavy feels: it is light-hearted, sweet, well-written and entertaining, all without being angsty or plot-twist-heavy. despite the alternative meeting, it is still pretty much in-universe compliant. kp meet at a bar under different circumstances, but end up pretty much in the same compromising position that we all love to see them in. much kudos🙏]

the less i know the better by @mslunita [yummmmm, delicious morsel of tinder hookup-turned-softness, i really enjoyed this one: kp initially meet on the apps, and yet, being themselves, immediately turn this motha all soppy and lovey-dovey, - extremely canon-complaint, if you ask me. exactly the kinda content i am here for🙏 super-well done]

For Want of Fighting by @Mara [this fandom sure does luuuuuuv it some alternative meetings aus, huh, and i ain’t about to complain. great short piece, Businessman AU, first meeting is not too drastically different to canon, but the context does slightly differ. very entertaining and def a rec]

Sports AU

Salt by @ronadnhermy [oh. my. god. what a fucking catch, luv luv luved ittttttt, so well-written, so entertaining, there is plot, there is emotional turmoil, morally dubious kinn, maybe the younger versions of them is not exactly my jam, but with such quality, who cares... porsche is like 18-19 and on the Thailand National Taekwondo team, kinn is in uni, and sees something he likes, thangs spiral from there... super recommend, ah-mazing, allllllll the kudos]

bar owner!porsche AU

like real people do by @motherfleckers [Kinn is a celeb, Porsche owns a tiny bar in a tinier fishing town, simple premise with a delightful resolution: eyebrows, usual canon levels of audacity, motorcycle rides, and, most importantly, kinn’s dick is not small. it’s very very good (the fic, not kinn’s dick, although that too). major kudosssssssss]

Now make your bed (now lie in it) by @deliciousblizzardshark [2-for-1 tropes sale, apart from bar owner!porsche, you get accidental babie acquisition, my beloved <33333 fair warning, one must brace themselves for being gutted with longing, as well as general adorableness of kinn going “i’ve only had this random babie for 1,5 days but if something happens to her imma end everyone in this establishment and then myself”, adored this one sooooo much, prolly one of my personal faves, sooooooo many kudosssssss]

Cabin crew AU

before i leave, i want it a thousand times by @mslunita [despite somewhat disparaging reputation real-life cabin crew have acquired in my city, i clearly have no issues reading porsche being one slutty flight attendant, and hey, when your client is kinn anakinn theerapanyakul, who could actually blame him for slightly loosening his morals up on occasion, right? certainly not me, you go boiiiiii]

Historical AU

Love and the Art of War by @fortunehasgivenup [oooooowwwwww yassss, this is sooooo far up my alley it ain’t even funny. first of all, this author is everything, man, love all their fics, must reads, all of them. this specific babie is sooooo precious though: set in some nebulous middle ages, it’s a war camp setting, kinn has been away from home for months, and upon returning from some battle or other, gets an unexpected visitor waiting for him inside his tent. ngl, i would have read 200k of this, but author gave me 4, and i lapped them up like a man starved. perfection, truly. not to mention the use of “anakinn” in any context just does it for me🤷‍♀️]

Sex worker adjacent AU

escort AU by @Oscarian_Flame [Porsche joins the same agency kinn has been a long-term client of, and the universe expands from there. well-written and fun to explore, with interesting oc’s, worth a read for sure!]

Cliff Jump by @AirgiodSLV [ooohhhhh yeahhh babie we talking with this one💅 soooo.... vegas is using the same agency, and it kinda triggers kinn’s competitive side, earning him a certain...  reputation. once every twink is bangkok is so exhausted that ain’t noone is able to deal with his over-the-top shite no more, the agency sends someone who has enough stamina to withstand the lengthy bounds of athletic... interactions. yeahhhhh, you guessed it. so very entertaining and plot-twisty. so very delightful]

even though you’re not mine, you’ve got that look in your eyes by @fortunehasgivenup [highly highly doubt there are people left in this fandom who have not read this masterpiece, and yet could not exclude it from the recs, it’s that spectacular. if one must create escort-by-misunderstanding AU.... do it to such level. spectacular work, allllll the kudos]

Night Call by @ziusik [one of my fav pieces in this fandom no cap, if you know this author, you know, i obvi adore every single word of both mileapo and kp this author has everrrrr written, and this particular stripper!porsche au with absolutely helplessly besotted idiot-kinn is outa this worldddddddd great. it’s like if “under the influence” by cb was a fic, the vibe is simply immaculate]

Comedy/Crack

Wilderness Camp by @housseao3 [wholesome and endearing piece of fun, i lichrally cackled multiple times, i meannnn, tankhun with his rompers, chan/tay, sugarplum/chicken, unforgettable ken/groundskeeper....? adorable, entertaining and praise-worthy attempt at light-heartedness and humour, super-well done]

School/Uni AU

let there be no barriers (between you and i) by @anakinn [being both adorable and hot is a general qualifier for ending up on my rec page, so here it goes as well. porsche has had a crush on one of his classmates for the better part of their university journey. one day being bored in class, he decides to test some random online advice, and see whether anyone of his mates is a mind-reader.... you guessed it folks, one particular person just might be. short and to the point delicious morsel of general canon-appropriate kp horniness for eo <3]

i gave a second chance to cupid by @haeseolar [omnomnomnom *chomps down on this fic with gusto* you know the feeling you get while consuming media, this overwhelming regret that the magnificent piece of work you’re currently devouring has already been perceived by you, and you never get to experience it for the first time ever again...? big time my energy while reading this one, what a mind candy, i reeeeeeeeeally enjoyed it🙏🙏🙏 kinn is 39, he is teaching lit at a private school, when the new 24yo PE teacher joins their roster fresh off uni... i dunno what to tell you, this author just gets it, when i say all the kudos, i quite literally mean all the possible kudos for this one]

Various in-universe AUs

The One Where Porsche and Kim Are Gym Buddies by @fortunehasgivenup [oooiiii, what fun, what funnnnnn: kim and porsche are both in the fights, and occasionally meet at the gym... reluctant comradery ensues. they talk to each other about their respective crushes, none the wiser that they have been railing each other’s nong and phi... what else is there to say, the author is so good i even attempted to read kimchay, which is practically unheard of, lich-rally all the kudos]

Here With You by @Yeetyeetbroski [daaaaaaaamn sonnn, the tension, the tensionnnnnn..... “scrumptious” is an understatement for what a treat it was. thank you dear author, much much MUCH kudos p.s. while you’re at it, i’d recommend to go through this author’s whole catalogue, their rendition of kp dynamic is a delight to read]

The Aftermath by @Yeetyeetbroski [yippy, the softness <3333333 So this is an Ep 6 aftermath, an AU for Ep 7. absolutely lovely and adorbs. soft besotted kinn is universally accepted as one of the fandom fav versions of kinn, so in regards of delivering on this front this fic is def up there. awesome read]

Post-canon

Storm to Weather by @archay [it was soooo good, i luv this typa vibe, bitter-sweet, but hopeful <333 the theerapanyakul empire is done for, and kinn and porsche are out to fend for themselves in a real world. tis a rec]

Whittled Down by Another War by @rageprufrock [i... are there even words... abso-fucking-lutely legendary piece, the way theerapanyakul bros dynamic is portrayed in this.... damnnnnnnnnnn, if there is anyone, literally anyone left who has not read this yet... what the fuck are you doing with your life, GO READ THIS ABSOLUTELY MINDBLOWING FIC]

fell in love with the fire long ago by @builtempires [wieeeeeeeeeeee, what a tasty treat: kinn is away on business, and a certain head of the minor family decides that sending his partner some racy pics while separated by thousands of miles would help the situation... it both does and doesn’t. very entertaining, super hot, much kudos]

Magic AU

Instinct by @the-wayside [ohhhhh this bloody gorgeous muthafuckin thang.... i remember being so overwhelmed after reading initial chapters that i even dmed the author, cause it was cloying at my skin, the story is superb. not everyone, but many people got an instinct living inside of them, and what do you think happens when kinn goes to some random underground fight held at some random seedy club and his instinct meets porsche.... yeppp. something about reading how the most animalistic, primal part of kinn wants and longs for what is his is just.... maaaaaaaan, If you haven’t read it yet and there is still an opportunity for you to experience it for the first time, i am so fucking envious no cap]

Poring Down Crimson Fire by @Lilla_Torg [whatttttttt, this was fucking insane, like...??? the world-building??? i fucking can’t, off the charts, insert chief kiss emoji size of a sun. i don’t even know how to rec something like dat, just... insanely devastatingly interesting story, and yeah, technically it’s not even kp fic per se, cause the whole fucking gang be giving off main character vibes. must read]

+

bonus:

MILEAPO

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disclaimer: realizing how tricky the whole topic of rpf might seem, i myself have not dipped a toe in this pool in a long, long time, therefore do completely understand and accept any potential discomfort anyone may have with using names/likeness of real people for fanfiction writing purposes. kindly, if you are uncomfortable with the topic, do not proceed any further, thank yew. p.s. also, as it has been noted so many times before, if you didn’t want us to write/read fanfiction about you, maybe you shouldn’t look at your work colleague like dat, bruv, just saying

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Starting Ambitions by @iffervescent [abo rpf, fucking masterpiece, luv this story sm]

Marked by @oliviacirce [yeahhhhhhhh... this. this was... an experience. they are about to film the scene in pete/porsche’s room, but the special effects person is out with the stomach flu, and there is no one to apply the fake hickies to apo’s neck. mile comes up with the brilliant idea that saves the day. no words, only squeals and cheers]

Whole New Kinds of Weather by @archay [short, sweet, hot and to the point 👌 after the NYE 2023 the whole team comes back to Tong’s for an after-party (for the live of me, i dunno why is it always Tong in the fics, tis has become some kind of established fanon by now), and thangs transpire in his bedroom (sorry, phi!!! pls don’t kill them)]

obviously, every single word @ziusik has ever written, especially Limerence, your lips in the street lights, and of fucking course, just a step away, which is definitely one of my fav ma fics everrrrrr and forever fandom classic

and finally...

said you’d be coming back this way again, baby by @concernedlily [this is what i’d call an ultimate ma fic, jokes aside, if there would be a limited amount of fics a person is allowed to read in they lifetime, this would make the cut every time for me. no matter how many wonderfully written, extremely talented ma works are out there, this would always be the ma fic for me, absolutely fandom-forming, i can never praise this work enough]

[jolapeno]

anon, I’m not going to post your ask because I didn’t feel comfy with the wording you used in it. but I’ll answer your question (rephrased)

question: how do you deal with one fic blowing up and another not?

the first thing I want to touch on is that you can’t go around lifting someone up to bring another person down—even if that person is yourself. you can’t go to someone and spell ill on yourself and expect the person you’re sending it to be super chill about it 😂 i do not want you to belittle your writing, whether on anon or not.

you can go to someone and be like “I love how you did X, I’m looking to get better at that” but, watch self-deprecating language (we’re all guilty of it is as humans) but it’s harder for me to even process what you’re saying when you’re on anon. I can’t clarify what you meant, I can only just make an assumption on the language you used.

which is why I didn’t post your ask, and I’m just hoping that I took the point out of it that you wanted to know 🩷✨

when you walk around believing you’re smaller than someone, the only thing you’re doing is telling yourself that you’re smaller than someone. it’s reinforcing a thought that your brain is creating to be mean (brain demons). negativity breeds negativity.

as a blog owner, we should celebrate the highs without fear that others will think bad on us. but the reason I don’t is because of mentalities like this where people assume I think I’m too big for my boots because I reached some pinnacle of followers. try to remember I am a multi-fandom writer, I collect souls as I wander aimlessly through the grass, and also, I’m no less wracked with worry, anxiousness or doubt than most. a number in my followers or on a fic doesn’t solve those problems or how I view myself.

now, to answer the question, I don’t? and I know that seems so easy to say right. like “oh, jo isn’t bothered”, she’s this and that. but the truth is, there’s no explanation. like sometimes, I’m someone’s cup of tea and another I’m not. sometimes I’ll write something people wanna drink up there and then, sometimes they’ll wanna wait, or skip past it. and it’s okay.

I don’t expect anyone to feel forced to read my work, and when they do it’s a blessing. that’s it. the beauty of fanfic and writing and art, is that there’s so much you can find exactly what you want, when you want it.

like, do I want to be beloved? yes, I want tattoos of peoples faces on me (haha, I kid, Pedro interview moment I promise). but I obviously want to connect with people, I want my writing to matter. but I try not to get hung up on it connecting on a scale — I just want to tell stories of people falling in love. I want people to be able to escape, and that isn’t represented in notes, that isn’t represented in numbers or anything. that’s a feeling, and I can’t measure that.

and I preach this a lot, but you have to find your people. the people who will want your particular style and swallow it up. the ones that connect with you when you stay true to who you are.

anyone can write a piece, but no one can write it like you. you can give five writers the same one line prompt and we’ll all interpret it differently. y’know?

now, do I sometimes sit all disgruntled that the fic snapped from a piece of my heart isn’t doing “well” (whatever that even means), of course! I am human.

but what I don’t do, is pick a part why that is. I just try to remember that this is what I wanted to write, this made me happy (or helped me work through things) or that (when the imposter syndrome passes) it’ll be something I want to read.

for instance, I am not a confident smut writer. smut does really well. I don’t actively avoid writing it, but I try to make it less of a focus on what I’m doing, because even if it does well, I am not good at it. and I never feel as proud of it.

however, there are times I have this idea and it’s smut and I literally harass friends with my idea before even attempting it—but again, I didn’t write it because smut does well here. I wrote it because the idea was stuck in my head 😂. I don’t expect it to do well, because going back to my first sentence, I am not a confident smut writer. the notes on it, mean nothing. what does mean something is me and my bestie screaming about what a slut I am and how proud she is of me 😂, that means more to me.

so to summarise, it’s hard to not be bothered, if you spend time looking at numbers. it’s a tough cookie to bite into it. but you have to find a core reason why you wanna do what you do, and keep that at the centre of you.

be dejected (if you need to be) when you stare at it and wonder why it didn’t “blow up”, but don’t let that fester inside of you, don’t let it stop you from writing. hold the reason you want to do this and remember that.

plus, every day you become a better writer, even if you don’t write every single day. you learn new words, see new inspo, hear new conversations. so, there’s always the next one, if notes are something you’re seeking.

love, jo 🩷✨

[sparrow-in-boots]

amanda the adventurer and fairies (if you even care)

imo we're too focused on christian mythos with all the demons and sacrificial lambs, and forgetting the very pointed celtic mythology cues in this narrative and I'm here to be the change I wanna see in the world, so let's go!

game spoilers below, you know the deal uwu

I think the biggest hint that we should not get hung up on Christian mythology, is the fact that in the very introduction with the letter by Aunt Kate, she pointed says "by the gods." Not "by God", gods plurals. We're to take a polytheistic angle with this, but which exactly is nebulous at first.

Behind the Catching Up With Colton news clipping, there's news about a Celtic relic, the crown of the stag, being stolen, and suspicion of a gang called the Demons. This was pointed out as an easter egg from another game, but I feel there's more to it.

For the most obvious lead, there's the Pied Piper theory for Hameln entertainment, which is a fairytale. In the Coffee Break tape, we see how Sam wanted to "show the world is a magical place" which I do believe he meant as just that, being optimistic as he's characterized, but that's also a lot of settings in fairytales. There's the known world and the fantastical, magical world. And to expand on that, the setting of the story being limited to a single city and community instead of being something with a broader reach matches the usual setting of a fairytale being restricted to a single village or town. Not that unlike the Pied Piper story itself, set in the city of Hamelin.

If you really want to squint at it, things such as baking and sending cookies as a form of thanks, while pretty common daily life things are also linked to rituals to pacify the fey and offer thanks to magical beings. Cookies and pies are also incredibly common baked goods in fairytales, and for instance, the tale of Hansel and Gretel has a house of candies that lure them inside, to a witch who would fatten them up and eat them. While sweets are present in the tapes, they are often exchanged for pieces of meat and organs, almost as if they are interchangeable.

Bringing it back to the Celtic Relic clipping, there's a long explanation that the crown was given as a peace promise between the Fey and the human kings. As such, let's take a look at Celtic mythology.

Foxes in myth are messengers between worlds and are often connected to the afterlife. Also, foxes are often portrayed as fey-aligned creatures, due to their mischievous and cunning nature. Also to go broader than that, there are the myths of Reynard the Fox, a trickster spirit in folktales across Europe that often coexists with Isengrim the Wolf. It's also a common trope that foxes can shapeshift.

Picking a fox to die in a hidden bear trap is quite symbolic in itself. The fairytale character who outwits all and escapes the most difficult situations has been bested, not only defeated but killed. "Silly Mr. Fox" can not only be a display that there is no clever way out of this trap, but also that traveling between worlds is impossible or will kill you.

Now to the "Lonely Kitten", she's clearly representative of Rebecca, caught in a trap as well and without help in sight. When you try to help her, you end up as one more hanging piece of meat. Cats however are more deeply connected to fairies than foxes, with myths like the Cat-sìth which steal souls from the deceased and can curse folks who won't pacify them. One is even described as "the king of cats." While these cats are described as big as dogs, and black with a spot of white on their chests, choosing a cat is quite the artistic choice.

As for Wooly, sheep have in christian mythos the symbolism of the sacrificial lamb and so on, but let's take a look at Celtic tradition.

In Irish myth, the goddess Brigid (associated with wisdom, poetry, healing, protection, smithing and domesticated animals) was the owner of Cirb, a castrated ram who was king of all the rams and sheep of Ireland. Brigid was one of the Tuatha Dé Danann, a group of gods that became the Aen Seidhe. The fairies.

Furthermore, Cirb rules even over the seven sheep that belong to Manannán, a warrior god and ruler of the Otherworld, a realm of gods and the dead. He's responsible for keeping it hidden with a veil of invisibility, and it has been pointed out that at least two of the demons Rebecca is made to recite the names of are also granters of invisibility. Not only that, these sheep were fabled to produce enough wool to clothe every man, woman, and child the world over.

In a crossroads of christian and pagan, there's a myth that animals gain the power of speech after the stroke of midnight on Christmas Eve, including sheep. On most stories, it can only happen when they are observed and are unknowingly overheard by humans. There's also the common trope that children can hear the voice of animals while adults cannot, as a show of the magic of innocence.

I can't quite especulate much beyond this, but I think there's something to chew on here.

[sirowsky]

--I Came By--

Description: This is based on the excellent movie with the same name, starring Hugh Bonneville as the baddie. I've taken Dave York to be the "hero" of the story and twisted it around a bit, hopefully creating something entertaining. No reader or OC, just Dave and the baddie.

Rating: Mature 18+ Warnings: Observe! Author is choosing not to display warnings on this story, to avoid spoilers. Read at your own risk. Word Count: 1160 Author’s Masterlist

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   He’s broken into a thousand places before. Always alone and always with a fully mapped out plan from which he never deviates. If even one small thing differs from his plan, he will abort and try again later.    No one ever knows that he’s there, even when the owners are home, and no one ever finds any trace of him. That’s how good he is.

   The target for tonight was picked months ago, and then rigorously studied, first from afar, and then up close. He’s already been inside the house a dozen times, mapping it piece by piece, finding all the flaws but also any potential danger, preparing for every eventuality.    The plan is set, and the operation begins at 2am.    Everything goes smoothly on the way in, he’s on schedule.

   But halfway through the operation, there’s a deviation.

   Normally, that means it’s time to back out, but this anomaly is so odd that instead of making him apprehensive, it’s making him feel stupid.    Because he’s been in the basement several times, so he knows that that’s where the safe is, along with the rare and expensive wine bottles and other collectibles that the owner enjoys.    He also knows that there was no door down there on any of the other visits.

   And yet, there is now.

   The walls are stone, so an extra room can’t simply have been added in the two days since his latest recon visit, it had to have been there all along, just extremely well hidden.    Which leaves him with a dilemma.    It’s not part of the plan, so he should leave it alone, but people hide doors for all kinds of interesting reasons, and usually to conceal valuable things.

   The door has no handle and it’s only protected by a normal padlock, which he can pick in seconds, and it won’t take long to assess whether there’s anything in there that he might have use for, so he decides to risk it.    It’s not the first time he’s gone off script, although the occasions are few and far between, and this time, it really does seem harmless enough.

   He could not have been more wrong.

   The door opens inward, revealing a prison-cell like room, where a young man, no more than twenty years old, is chained to a bed.    He’s in such bad shape that he can barely lift his head to see who’s there. Clothes that are so filthy that their original color can’t even be distinguished, and so torn up that much of his scarred and bruised skin is visible, hang loosely over his body.

   Whoever this kid is, he’s been there for a long time, and every day of it has been torturous. Dave has seen and been responsible for enough cruelty in his days, to know exactly what this person has suffered.    And for that, he pities the man. But he doesn’t owe him anything.    This is not his problem, and he has no interest in becoming a savior. In fact, that’s about as far from his usual person that he could possibly get.

   The kid has just begun trying to sit up, realizing that it’s not his captor who’s standing there, when the thief backs out and closes the door again, bolting it back up and returning to his schedule.    And just five minutes later, he’s back outside with his loot, calmly walking away without a care in the world.

   But the next day, there’s big headlines in the papers about the richest man of that area having been robbed during the night, which catches his attention. Because for the most part, people who lock other people in their basements tend to wanna avoid having policemen search their houses for clues.    Not this particular creep, though. And that makes him interesting.

   So, the following night, the thief returns to the large house, sneaking inside while the owner is still up, sitting in his armchair with a cup of tea, reading a book.    Dave has been watching him for a good half-hour when the man eventually realizes that he isn’t alone in the spacious living room, and to his credit, he remains perfectly calm despite the startling discovery.

   “You’re the man that robbed me,” he simply states, as if it’s of little consequence.

   But the thief can hear the concealed contempt at the trespasser’s audacity to steal from him.

   “Yeah. Sadly, I’m not here to return it,” Dave replies just as casually, with the exception that his leisure isn’t faked.

   “So, you’re just back to gloat, then?”

   “Nope. Not my style,” he offers, before just jumping straight to the point. “I’m here about the hidden door in the basement, and the kid you’ve got chained up there.”

   The man scoffs at that, but not to suggest that such a thing is ridiculous. He scoffs at the notion that this lowlife and common criminal has uncovered his precious secret, something that he clearly considers to be insulting.

   “Oh, let me guess, you’ve decided that you do have a heart and that you’re gonna try and force me to let him go so that you can be a hero, instead of the cockroach underneath my boot.”

   He practically spits the last few words, before reeling himself in again, smoothing his hands over his own thighs and letting a smirk adorn his lips as he continues.

   “Well, that’s not gonna happen. What is going to happen, is that I am going to step on you, until your every bone is broken and you’re leaking your stinking filth all over the sidewalk.”

   But Dave just smiles back, while he pulls a 9mm pistol from the back of his belt, and plants just one bullet in the man’s head.    Then he leaves the house and the entire neighborhood. Someone will have heard the shot and called the police, and they can rescue the kid and spend the rest of their days trying to figure out who shot the creep, for all he cares.

   Because the truth is, he didn’t do it to save anyone. He did it because the rich asshole upset his perfectly devised plan. Because he somehow missed the door on all previous visits and that pisses him off.    The fact that the guy was a genuine monster is of no consequence. Had he not fucked up the schedule, he’d still be alive.

   No one is allowed to interfere with his operations, before or after the fact. That’s why he will never have a partner, and that’s how he always wins.

   He doesn’t read the paper the following day, so he doesn’t know that the kid lived. It makes no difference, since the boy never saw his face.    But Dave does recognize him when he crosses paths with him nearly two years later, and he does notice that the kid is doing well.    Why he notices that, he can’t understand, because it doesn’t matter to him.

   Or at least… it shouldn’t.

THE END

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Thank you for reading and helping me celebrate! I wish you a wonderful day <3

Tagging a few people who I think might wanna read these stories: @startrekkingaroundasgard @deadhumourist @tintinn16 @suttonspuds @tanzthompson @shsoba05 @f0rever15elf @justnat15 @lowlights @dornish-queen @radiowallet @spishsstuff @harriedandharassed @i-love-movies @tiffanypooh @chaoticfestninja @insomniamamma @pedrostories

[pcrushinnerd]

Critical Passenger -- Chapter 10

Story Summary: Before he fully accepted his role as Moon Knight, as Jake Lockley he played hero and made a promise to someone who has come back into his life.

Pairings: Mostly Jake Lockley x femreader, but also Steven Grant x femreader and Marc Spector x femreader because well yeah.

Warnings: Allusions to alcohol use.

A/N: So uh.... it's been more than a hot minute since I've posted an update. Freakin' adulthood/reality strikes again.

previous chapter ||| masterlist

The Present

You looked upon the side table, loaded up with liquor bottles, with sadness.

The stacks of books around the flat were sheeted with dust, but the bottles were not.

"So I guess it's possible," Marc offered from across the room. "There's another alter."

You couldn't lift your eyes away from the Gray Goose, Bushmills, Patron....

"Do you want a drink?"

You looked over at Marc. He was relieved to see that you generally seemed a bit calmer, more at ease.

You shook your head. "Um, no. I'm fine. I...." You took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Sorry that you have to.... Sorry, again, I'm probably assuming, I don't wanna seem like I'm talking down to you or anything," you started to babble, "I just...seems like that condition would be hard to deal with."

Marc wasn't quite sure how to process that. Kindness. It seemed genuine, but he didn't encounter that much of it to really know for sure. "Thank you."

You moved back to scanning the spines of his various books. You had to shake your head, because you were sure that not only would Jake not own this much...well, anything, but even if he inherited it or somehow came to own so much, it wouldn't be as haphazardly arranged as this veritable library was. There were books on the floor, on chairs, tables, cabinet tops, on top of a...was that really an old CRT TV complete with bunny ears?

Marc was unnerved by your obvious snooping, and that you didn't seem to care that you were obviously snooping.

He was, albeit, holding your smart phone in his hand, swiping through photos that, if they weren't of him, had to be of a twin brother or doppelganger, which seemed highly unlikely compared to the possibility that another alter had been with this woman. The photos showed him in various situations that indicated a past romantic relationship: couples selfies, photos of him cooking, across from the photo-taker at a cafe, in one of those cheesy Central Park carriage rides, smiling in bed....

"What are you looking for?" he asked.

You sighed. You figured it was sort of stupid to be looking through all this mess for such a needle in a haystack. "A copy of a book I gave you--Jake--a book of love poetry by Pablo Neruda?" You sounded mostly defeated, but there was a tinge of hope at the tail end of that inquiry.

Meanwhile, Marc's eyes widened a fraction. Yes, he did own such a book. Wordlessly, he rose from his perched seat on the edge of his small dining room table, to cross his large, open flat to a particular bookshelf that held all of Steven's poetry and related volumes. He searched the collection for a moment, before pulling out a semi-slim tome of sonnets by the Chilean poet.

You walked up to Marc and your heart did a little leap at seeing the dog-eared book. You had to hold back tears.

Marc held it out to you and you took it in hand.

You flipped to the title page inside, and sidled up to Marc as you pointed to an inscription there. "See." You indicated a single line written towards the bottom: "I <3 you in all these ways."

There was no name, but Marc figured this had to be another huge clue that you were who you claimed. The Neruda was out of place amongst all of Steven's French poetry, and the writing didn't look like Layla's. It was smaller, and slated to the left. He had noticed the out-of-place book, but had figured Steven bought it second-hand, and that was just there from the last owner....

March sighed out a tense breath. "When were we together, exactly?"

You lit up at that question. You were about to answer, when a heavy knock at his front door startled both of you.

"Are you expecting someone?" you asked warily. You knew full well you were likely the first guest he'd had in a long time, if ever, at this sad excuse for a bachelor pad.

"No...." He motioned for you stay where you were, before he tip-toed up to his door. "Don't move or say anything," he whisper-hissed to you over his shoulder.

Marc looked through the peep hole, and you could see his body tense.

"Y/N, do me a favor and head for the window in the corner. Go out and hide on the ledge." He turned around and locked eyes with you. "Right now."

[s0lar-ch3ri]

tell me all about dnd character(s) please i am begging

OMG OMG OMG OMG OKAY OKAY OKAY!!!!! HAGVJDFD GLADLY I WILL

I GOT A COUPLE SO LETS GET INTO THIS:

ohevet: first ever character! uses she/they i think (and if they didnt, they do now! update: JUST REMEMBERED, IT WAS HE/HIM FOR A CIS WOMAN! THROW OUT THE OTHER IDEA SORRY) and also my first aroace character. his name is a joke with that honestly, as ohevet is hebrew for love. i lost the stat sheet a bit back BUT im working on rewriting the stats so i can make an actual character of him! his backstory is kinda silly and i dont really remember it rn so ill also be redoing that shit for sure, but i do know one thing, he's cursed. with this marking on his face, hes able to get "Stackable Concussions" (which me and my dms came up with stat affection ideas but i do also wanna make my own for funzies, and i doubt either would mind if you also wanted to lol). by the end of the campaign, he had been like the only one to not try to seduce someone (my friend had gotten a nat 20 to seduce "mommy nature" so theres that) and had a stack of 10 concussions. how he was still standing is beyond me. did i fall for him? abso-fucking-lutely, i made him hot and wanted him carnially and yet hes aroace so what can my gay ass do? (fun fact: one of my dms is my now girlfriend!) btw before i forget, mountain dwarf fighter, and had a lizard he took off the floor rather then pay for a pet, one of the players had its brother/cousin.

ivy: meant to be an npc for my campaign (which btw ill gladly talk about BUT MY PLAYERS CANNOT SEE THIS LOL ARCADIAN AND GAYWITCHNERD SKIP TO THE SECOND PARAGRAPH ON IVY), but a played character in my friend's (arcadian) campaign (arcadian was the one to try and seduce "mommy nature" btw). speaking of npc, the played character and npc have different stories, so we going with npcs rn! ivy (she/they/star pronouns lol) was meant to be a royal guard who did training and learning in the forests, but im thinking of making her a shop owner (eh, probs for out of dnd oc shit). while in the forest, she sorta fell for a nymph there which looks a lot like one of my players characters (agreed romance thing lol). while in town, i plan for her to sorta like fall for said player after bumping into them and shit. that being said, love wont be her only motivation! i do have some plot ideas i need to think up, but im pretty ready to connect shit in. also shes gonna have a dog familiar (my dog) just to involve her somehow lol. oh yeah she slso has gay moms

NOW WE TALK HER AS A PLAYED CHARACTER! in arcadians campaign, shes a half-elf druid like before, but her lesbian parents arent really too existant. (hey gaywitchnerd, i dont mind you reading this, but your character wouldnt know this info) due to issues with her planet, ivy has had her set of challenges, and is looking for strength in knowledge (literally). back home, theres some fucking secret thing there for some deity. on this route, its a pursuit of learning what the deity is. (another idea i had was that the swamp she once lived in is commonly disregarded, and due to anxiety she worried about it being forgotten and shit happening to it so she went looking for power to protect it) there are religions based around it, but ivy isnt exactly religous but still learning as much as she can about it. (fun fact for this one, but its related to the oc: i was planning for her to have BPD, but i wasnt sure how to play one so as a non-dnd character im gonna find ways to incorperate it, also she likes one of the pcs and an npc, the pc is my gfs one but i doubt they realise it lol)

hunter: like all my characters, i go into it with a basis, something i build around for them (ivy is an acception, she was just gonna be an npc), and hunters no different. since the campaign features 3-4 tabaxis (cant remember for sure), an undead, and other various magical people, i wanted to be just a regular guy, which i am! human fighter guy and all that, pretty normal (most extraordinary thing is that hes a magician)...except humans arent fucking normal here because its a tabaxi village. i fucking love that i didnt know this btw! CAUSE I DID NOT, NOR DID MY FRIENDS REALIZE. the story with this guy that i got is he was a traveling performer, one who used this bow tie made special by his fiancé, which works like the bandana chip uses. this however, got taken while traveling, and hes not willing to preform at a show or anything until he gets it back. for the tabaxi village hes disguised as a cat and his whip is his cat tail (this is to make up for the fact that im not a tabaxi with them all lol)! fun fact for him now: his original design was meant to look feminine and masculine to encapsulate my bigenderness in a character ("the most magical thing about them is their gender!"), but ended up feeling too extra for the "just a guy" vibe and got a total redesign lol (he/him cishet man btw, gonna be fun to try <- bigender afab)

techic: my newest campaign character (who i get to play again in 5 minutes, but by the time i finish writing this, we may have started already lol)! a genderfluid tiefling warlock, who worked as a cashier at a 8/12 before shit went down (its an apocalypse campaign). (update, it did actually, writing while we wait for players to arrive) the funny idea with this one? "what if they made a deal for surgery and just got more out of it?". not much on them rn so fun fact time! their mom is a pc (played by arcadian) and currently being locked in a closet cause they ate their zombified partner!

[sleepy-achilles]

Not sure how the school system works in your part of the world, but my kids' school had "bring your parents to class" for the kindergarten kids.

How would the kids react to Shawn, the Undertaker ( American bad ass phase), or John?

Bonus: someone brings in a championship belt.

Where I'm from in Wales we do not have a bring your parent to school day. Most likely because it was a 90% chance your ma was a dinner lady who worked in your school anyways and your dad was on the road or in a factory so..yeah.

And yes I did have to Google kindergarten ages. John is the only one in this story in highschool, for obvious reasons I state in the story.

But I do love the idea of bringing parents to school for a day. Imma make my own school and make it a thing.

For now, I present to you...

The Family of Destruction- Bring your dad to school.

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---John---

John didn't really get to have a normal childhood. His Papa wasn't stable enough to do the whole parenting thing and give John a normal childhood. He went from being homeschooled to being enrolled into highschool. It was a big and scary change. Especially as it was a school in the valley of death.

--

John looks at the board. "Bring your parent to class day" Ms Taylor speaks. John's heart sinks, especially as everyone glances at him. It was well known in the valley that his father was shacking up with the owner of the valley. It didn't exactly make him popular. John shrinks down in his desk. He can easily avoid this by explaining that his father is at a show and well its pretty common knowledge there's no mother in the picture. His dad wouldn't even know.

--

John stayed in his room until dinner time. He had a excuse, homework. He walks downstairs to see Shawn holding baby Leon whilst trying to dish up dinner. "Papa, let me" John sighs moving closer. Expecting Shawn to step back and let John dish the food, he doesn't. Instead John is handed his baby brother. "Thank you. Taker won't be home tonight, but I told you that this morning, so I don't know why I'm telling you that again" Shawn sighs. John just glances at his baby brother. The green and blue eyes staring back at him, dead of all emotion. "Im looking forward to tomorrow though" Shawn comments.

John's head snaps back up. "What? Why?" He asks. "Its bring your parent to class day, did they not tell you?" Shawn asks. "Oh I must of forgot. I didn't think you'd wanna do it anyways" John shrugs. "Of course I do. You already missed out on so much, I'm not depriving you of teenage embarrassment" Shawn smirks. "What about Lee? You can't bring him" John points out. "Goldust offered to have him. It's all sorted Johnny boy. I'll just show up tell them how I work and then I'll leave. I'll be good, I promise." Shawn smiles. "Okay." John nods. "It'll be fun. Go sit" Shawn orders. John can't help but chuckle as he moves towards Leon's pop up crib, placing him in it. "Wish me luck bud" John whispers. Leon just stares at him before his tongue pokes out. John chuckles and moves away.

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John leans back in his chair and watches one of the mom's go on about how great being a stay at home mom is. John couldn't disagree, being a mom is a big job, problem is, John's mom didn't like the idea of it being a job and decided he didn't exist. So excuse John if he was jealous or angry at mothers.

"Thank you Mrs Cooper. Next up, Mr Michaels" Ms Taylor smiles. John glances up as his dad moves to the front. The whispers start immediately. "Well hello" Shawn smiles. "Im John's dad-" "your hbk" a boy pipes up. "Yeah I watched you fight bret hart! It was awesome!" Another boy states. Shawn chuckles and rubs his neck. "Yeah that's my job. I fight people for a living. Although, I'm not encouraging you to start fighting each other, you shouldn't do that stuff at home, I do it in a controlled area" Shawn quickly covers as the parents glance at him. "John does it" a girl states. "Ah well yes but John grew up on the road and well, he's always with a professional when he does fight. And it isn't fighting in that situation, its sparring. We as wrestlers spar when we aren't at a live show. And of course, growing up on the road you get exposed to that a lot." Shawn explains.

John starts to relax as the class grows interested and begin smiling and laughing with his pa. Maybe he was worried for nothing.

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---Leon---

Unlike John, Leon has never been homeschooled. He doesn't hate it, doesn't love it.

He does however hate how unfair his parental life is. His parents seem to live in fear, which Leon doesn't blame them, the world, even the valley, isn't exactly accepting of gay men with a child. So, he, in the eyes of everyone, was the son of Shawn Michaels and only Shawn Michaels to the outside world and to the world of wrestling he was the Undertakers son and the Undertakers son only.

It pissed Leon off majorly. A feeling that would develop more once cassie came along and got to grow up with two parents instead of one.

Anyways. Enough of Leon's parental issues.

"We have bringing your parents to class day tomorrow." Mr Barton smiles. Leon frowns. "Dont look so glum. I'd love to hear about shawns job" Matthew smirks at him. Leon rolls his eyes. "I am" valentina smiles, her accent still heavy. Its her first year in the states. Leon shakes his head. He heard about John's one. Who could even care? You could just turn your tv on and see his job. Leon was not looking forward to it. Not at all.

---

Shawn sighs. "Whats wrong?" Taker yawns as he sits up. "I forgot its Leon's bring a parent to class day. I have to be across the country in a hour" Shawn huffs. "Ill go. Not like I've got anywhere to be" Taker shrugs. Shawn pauses. "Are you sure? People might talk" Shawn states. "Eh who cares. We've got another kid on the way. We can't try to ignore each other forever" Taker smirks. "Just..don't embarrass him alright? I think he's having a tough time adapting." Shawn sighs. "I won't." Shawn just looks at him as he grabs his suitcase. "I won't!" Taker chuckles pushing off the bed to kiss the other. "I need to pack!" Shawn gasps as Taker pulls him onto the bed. "Later"

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Leon swore he heard a motorcycle. Which wouldn't be right, because his Papa dealt with school and well everything. "Leon? Do you know where your Papa is?" Mr Barton asks. Leon shrugs, watching as valentinas mama fixes her hair and Matthews father scolds the boy. He thought about them. Valentinas family was just her, her mama and her baby brother Achilles. The rumours were her father was a drug lord in Mexico which is why they fled. Matthews dad went to school with taker. He's the chief of the police. His mother is a nurse. He's pretty much home alone all the time. And Leon? You know Leon's families deal.

"Woah" Brad huffs. (Leon's school frenemie. Life long rival. I'll go into more detail one day) Leon looks up to see his dad walking through the door. Leather jacket, shades, bandana and all. "Sorry, am I late?" Taker asks lowering his shades. "And you are here for.." "Leon michaels. I'm his dad" Taker smiles. "Ah right. Sorry we are just so used to shawn. Come in, it's actually your turn" Mr Barton smiles. "Perfect." Taker stands infront of the desk, eyes the kids up before leaning against the desk. "Whatcha wanna know? Wrestling, funeral home or my jobs around the valley?" Taker asks. Leon just stares in confusion as the kids all start yelling different answers. His dad was stood in his classroom?

"I knew he was cool" valentina whispers. Leon glances at her. Matthew was also watching Leon with a smile. "Coolest cat around" Matthew smirks causing Leon to chuckle slightly.

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Leon stands by his father's bike and watches as his dad is surrounded by parents and fanboys. What was he doing here?

"Look at him, I must be going" Taker smiles moving towards Leon. "Whats bothering you buddy?" Taker asks. 'Why are you here? Not papa?'Leon signs. "Papa had to goto work. He wanted to be here but couldn't." Taker admits. 'Always one. Never two.' Leon signs. Taker pauses. "What do you mean by that?" Taker asks. 'Home.' Is all Leon responds. Taker knows better than to push. He also knows Shawn will have a better shot at it then him.

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--Cassidy--

Cassie, the youngest, also avoided homeschooling. The difference between her and Leon was, both her parents turned up instead of one. The problem is, she never knew this so she could never understand why Leon had so much anger towards her.

-----

Cassie can't help but smile. "Tomorrow is bring your parents to class day, are we all looking forward to it?" Miss Daisy smiles. "Yes!" All the kids smile. Cassie was especially excited. She had the coolest parents in the valley! "Can't wait to see your papa again. His hair is beautiful" noel smiles. "Papa? Her daddy is awesome!" Jesse smiles. "I know" cassie nods.

---

"Lee." Shawn warns. Leon glares at his parents. 'Bullshit.' Is all Leon signs before storming to his room. "And who taught him that?" John huffs. "Look after him." Taker orders. "Not my fault he's moody" John whispers. "Dont you start" Shawn warns. "Yessir" John nods. "Lets go" Taker mutters. He wasn't stupid. He clearly knew its jealousy, with both boys. But he can't exactly go back in time and tell himself he had nothing to worry about.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassie couldn't fight the smiles and giggles as her parents stood infront of her class. "Well, we have a lot of careers we can talk about, whatcha wanna know?" Taker asks with a smile. "Did you really win the championship last night?" A boy asks. "Oh you know it" Taker smirks grabbing the belt from behind him. The kids all Awe at it. "Can we touch it?" A girl asks. "Of course. It is heavy though" Taker informs them as he hands the belt to their teacher so she can take it around. "This is so cool cas" Connor smiles. "I know! I told you I'd be the coolest after this." Cassie smiles.

And she was for awhile.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Taker adjusts the belt over his shoulder as he kneels infront of cassie. "This was awesome! The best day ever!" Cassie smiles at her parents. "Im glad" Shawn smiles. "Thank you for bringing this" cassie whispers touching the belt. "Anytime bug" Taker smiles softly. "I love you both" cassie whispers. "We love you too bug" Shawn chuckles. "Now! Let's bring John and Leon pizza to cheer them up!" She cheers. "Atta girl" Taker chuckles standing up. She sure knew her brothers.

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NOTES

Took me forever but I actually really liked and enjoyed writing this.

Huh

Look at me getting all soft in my not so old age.

[kudzucataclysm]

i'm very new here, would it be okay to ask of you to infodump about "dez"? they seem very blorbo material and i'm curious :3 (if not i'll totes understand if you wanna keep things hush-hush due to spoilers lol)

OFC ILL INFODUMP ABT DEZ DEAR ANON HE'S MY BOY

his names Desmond O. Arkady and he’s the main protag of SE and is…tbh the only normal person out of the entire cast. he’s just a normal superpower-less kid who gets involved in world altering events on accident becuz everyone else is mean to him and likes using him cuz he craves validation and can’t say no :( unfortunately for all the ppl who like pushing him around, he’s got extremely serious, repressed anger issues (due to his dad's emotional/verbal abuse and his mom abandoning the family) and is eventually pushed beyond his breaking point which at some point involves making a nuclear bomb so. good work guys-

he’s also super fucking smart and loves everything to do with science even tho he isn’t too good at math. he excels at biology and chemistry and likes to take home dead animals to cut open and look at. he also practices necromancy- he’s a distinguished little victor frankenstein just. one who doesn’t steal dead bodies v-v he particularly likes reviving dead cats (one of which becomes a supporting character at a later point) but other than natural sciences he's pretty adept at taking things apart and putting them back together. he can look at a radio and know exactly how it works and what the components are that make it function. he also loves fun facts and will randomly drop them on people, especially morbid ones that he finds 'funny and interesting' but isnt to others :( so while he's pretty intelligent he doesnt do well socially which resulted in him being bullied VERY badly when he was younger but he tries to take everything in stride....even tho he almost drowned once becuz of it and one other time almost beat someone unconscious during one of his 'rage blackouts' (he definitely fucking cried for like 3 days straight after that even tho he doesnt rmm)

while relatively normal he’s related to like, arguably the most powerful person in the world which is something he’s super unaware of. he’s the heir to a shit ton of scientific endeavors and intended future owner of ALL ANDROIDS. but again he’s unaware of this so when “certain things” tend to happen to him or around him he just tends to brush it off and doesn’t think it concerns him. the person who he’s related to, Lupe, is struggling to get into contact with him cuz 10 years ago she astral projected so hard she caused her subconscious (i’m not explaining) to time travel so. she’s just been in a coma for a long while annnnd she very much might never wake up again so OH WELL looks like her TRILLION DOLLAR FORTUNE is just in fucking limbo for now >:/

hmm what else..very much a people pleaser, he's got this really weird inclination to freak the fuck out if he thinks people don't like him- he also ignores a lot of his feelings?? like if he feels anything intense other than happiness he's prone to crying fits and throwing up which his bodyguard francis thinks is INSANE and STUPID. despite ppl treating him like shit he's genuinely a very hopeful person and loves the world and everything that takes up space in it. like he tries to and does see the good in everything and while the events of the story kinda wear down on him he ultimately doesn't think humanity or Martiankind deserves pain and/or suffering; he persistently keeps a strong sense of justice/morality and thinks that anyone or anything is ultimately capable of good.

hrrrrm thats all i can seem to say off the top of my head for now...anyway yeah he's literally the best :3 like out of the entire cast of SE he's definitely the guy the root for imo v-v

waaaa but tysm for the q

[har-rison-s]

your good will: 37

troubled times

a/n: hi okay um next chapter... i'm a bit nervous about this one bcs i'm dropping a serious piece of steve harrington lore that i've kind of had as an unconfirmed headcannon to myself since season 2 came out... and i know how arguments can rise from things like this, but just keep in mind that it's my interpretation, it's my story - i'm definitely not saying it's canon. just my idea. happy reading <3

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word count: 4.3k

characters in this chapter: steve harrington, OC maggie byers

themes: angst, comfort, fluff, panic attacks

gif credit goes to owner!

Maggie wakes in the night, everything dark around her, night owls in the woods making for a faint lullaby, and Steve missing from his usual spot next to her, or around her, in his bed. She wants to sleep further, the slumber she woke up from just now out of the blue being oh-so-delicious and deep, but she’s wondering where Steve is. He’s not one to go on night runs or anything like that. 

With regret, she rubs her eyes so they’d be empty of all sleep - she guesses she’s gonna need to be fully awake for whatever’s happened - and sits up in bed. She pats Steve’s side of the bed and feels it just now growing cold, and knows it’s been a few minutes he’s gone from bed already. Then she hears quiet noises, like sniffles or whispers, coming from his bathroom, and sees light seeping into the bedroom through a thin line in the closed door. She furrows her brow and hops out of bed. The chilly air of the night, in contrast to the warm sheets, caresses her bare thighs and she makes her steps to the bathroom just a tad quicker.

The door is open, and she pushes it forwards to have a look inside, a little scared for what she might see, but determined nonetheless. Steve’s there, thankfully, and nothing other than him hunched over the bathroom sink looks out of order. Maggie taps two fingers against the door, pulling Steve’s attention to her, and gives him a soft smile. “Hey,” she says, but her smile fades a little when she sees him looking… out of sorts, unlike his usual self. His eyes look as tired as ever, encircled by red and violet tones, the chocolate brown of his irises now reminding her more of a gray-brown tone. Devoid of their usual warmth.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you up, so I…” Steve says, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, too, and Maggie notices how his voice sounds - like a sick person’s, or one who’s been crying their eyes out. Her worry grows bigger, her heart surges. Steve sniffles, and that’s the third giveaway of what he’s been doing in the bathroom by himself. Maggie comes closer to him, of course, unsure if he wants her that close now. 

“What’s wrong?” She gently inquires. Steve’s head still hangs low, swaying from side to side, hair moving along with it, both hands gripping the edges of the sink. “Was it a nightmare?” She whispers, and Steve shakes his head. 

“Not really, just a… a memory,” he answers in that cried-out voice, “I don’t know… I just woke up, and it just… consumed my mind. Next thing I know, I–I feel like I can’t breathe,” Steve’s one hand goes to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt there, “and my eyes are burning and–”

“And you’re crying,” Maggie finishes his sentence for him, and Steve looks up at her, nodding. She knows Steve isn’t exactly used to crying, he’s been taught all his life by none other than his father that only weak people or women cry, which has set in an example of how a strong man should behave and go about his feelings. It’s what Steve’s struggled with in his teenage years, what he still struggles with. But he forgets that he’s cried in Maggie’s company before.

“I just didn’t wanna wake you up… because of it,” he admits and blows his nose - no doubt it’s been runny from crying. Maggie sighs and hops onto the bathroom counter, “just feel… kind of embarrassed.” Steve says, an airy chuckle following his sentence, feeling embarrassed even to admit that.

“Crying isn’t embarrassing,” Maggie tells him quietly, “it’s actually… therapeutic. Helps let out what we’re feeling but can’t really… explain.” She explains, looking into Steve’s eyes and hoping some of what she says sticks with him. He runs both hands over his face. “I’ve seen you cry before, never thought it was embarrassing or… you know, I haven’t judged you for it,” Maggie reminds him, “what’s different this time?”

Steve shakes his head again. “I don’t know,” he says, fear in his voice, “I can’t explain it, like you said. I just… I don’t know. What the hell have we been through…” He takes his hands away from his face and looks at himself in the mirror. Maggie rests her hand on his, then goes up his arm and her other hand reaches up to him, too. She’s testing his waters - if he’s comfortable with her touching him while he’s in this frail state of mind. Her hands gently pull him to her until he gives in, and he crashes against Maggie like a tidal wave. Nearly knocks the breath out of her, but she makes sure not to show it. Poor guy already feels embarrassed, she doesn’t want to make it worse. 

Steve’s body is trembling under Maggie’s embracing arms, he’s both hot and cold to the touch. His breaths seem more like hiccups, and maybe he's still crying. She hugs him closer, really puts her heart into holding him. “I'm almost nineteen years old, I shouldn't be crying because of monsters or russian soldiers,” Steve says, and it breaks Maggie's heart, “I should be crying because no colleges or even tech offered me a place, but I just knew I wouldn't make it, so it never made me sad.” He admits, after which more crying hiccups come. Maggie closes her eyes. She's trying to come up with ways to comfort him. 

“Hopper almost shot someone's dog last year because it reminded him of those demo-dogs,” she says quietly, “my mom had to watch Bob get eaten alive by them, and she's still having nightmares about it. I think she relives that moment every day, or at least anytime she thinks about Bob,” Maggie ponders, “she still makes sure no one goes anywhere alone. Every call she gets to the house gives her a heart attack.” She rubs Steve's shaking back. “There is no age to fear, to trauma. And you're not weak by having it.” 

Steve's silent as he takes her words in. His father has made him believe that showing any emotion is a sign of weakness, that dealing with things instead of bottling everything up is what weak, emotional people do. Emotional = weak. Sensitive = weak. He's never felt allowed to speak about what troubles him at home, or with his school friends - because they weren't genuine friends, really -, so he learned to never quite deal with any emotion that comes up. He was close to crying that night of the party with Nancy, in the bathroom. But he had suppressed everything for so long that that unbearable sadness hurt in such a way that he couldn't even cry. It was just… unexplainable. 

He's pretty sure he was also close to crying when the russians demanded information out of him, because he kept telling the truth, and they kept beating him up for everything else they wanted to hear, he was just desperate for it all to end. And when he and Robin were laying on the floor, he almost started crying because he thought about Maggie. And when Maggie told him she'll be moving away somewhere with her family, he cried in front of her, and it happened unexpectedly, too. She didn't react to it - judgy or otherwise, she didn't push him away because of it, it was just… A regular thing for her. She made him feel like it wasn't a big deal, to cry or cry in front of her. 

And he understands what she's saying to him now, about age not measuring the ability to experience fear or trauma. And woah, trauma they have both had a lot of. Now comes the time to process that. Both of them have been thrust into such unexplainable, unpredictable events and situations that they don't even know where to begin. Maggie's pondered about having an Owens-assigned therapist to just get through it all easier. 

“You don't have to be, like… macho or whatever in front of me all the time,” Maggie tells him with a gentle smile on her face, “you're being strong by letting yourself feel things, you know? Especially to me, and I'm glad you let me see all that you're feeling.” She soothes him. “I know it's complicated for you, but you're doing a good job. And you're not embarrassing in any way,” she promises and presses a kiss to his shoulder, “I sometimes notice things about you that can only be explained by trauma.” 

Steve pulls back slightly, arms still around her like hers are around him, and looks at Maggie. His lips are plump, his eyes and cheeks puffy, red, almost swollen. She's gonna have to show him the ice trick after this, she realizes. “Like what?” Steve asks, sniffling again and looking at his love. She sighs.

“Like… you never wanting us to have sex on your bed,” she says quietly, and diverts her eyes from his, even almost pulling her hands away from him, but not quite. She knows he loves physical touch, and he's confirmed that he doesn't mind it now, “it's not like I desperately want to have it there, it's just… I know why we don't do it there.” Maggie explains and shrugs her shoulders. “I think you just… subconsciously avoid it. We do it on the carpet, or on the pillows by the window… or downstairs all around,” Steve makes a small smile at that. They sure do it all around, “I think if I'd ever ask to do it on your bed, you'd realize that we don't, we never have.” Maggie shrugs again, and shyly looks up into Steve's eyes.

He sighs and nods. “Yeah, you're right,” he agrees in a soft, quiet voice. If he talked any louder, he would croak. He stands back away from the counter, pulls Maggie off with him, and they both sit side by side with backs against the lower bathroom cabinets, legs tickled by the northern carpet on the floor, “just makes me think of that night… when Barbara died.” Steve explains further, and Maggie nods. She pulls her knees up to her chest. “How I could have… done something to stop it, if I wasn't…” he shakes his head, and that finishes his sentence already. “It's also probably the reason I never did it with Nancy again after that.” Steve admits, and Maggie turns her head to look at him, just to see if he's pulling her leg. But he isn't. There's the serious, fallen-face look on his features now that he sits without saying a word.

“You're serious?” Maggie asks, and Steve nods without meeting her eyes. “You were together for almost a whole year.” She quietly adds, and Steve just nods his head of hair again. 

“I know, and–and every time we tried, I just kept… remembering everything,” he says, “killed the mood for me, to say the least. I was just there, where this whole mess started, all over again.” Steve breathes a deep sigh and rests the back of his head against the cabinets. “I just couldn't.” 

“But… with me…” Maggie doesn't even know what she wants to say. Clearly, it would be stating the obvious to say he's not like that with her. Steve shakes his head softly.

“It's different with you,” he states the obvious, what Maggie was herself thinking, “sure, we have trauma and everything together, but… it's like with Nancy, there was this… guilt that we both had for Barbara's death, and we never talked about it. It was eating us alive.” Steve explains. “If you think about it, our relationship started with guilt, with hiding something, a couple of things.” He sighs again. “It's not like that with you.”

Maggie rests her head on her knees, hugging her legs close, and she sighs, too. He is right. It seems he can see his and Nancy's relationship more clearly now than he could before, see things now that others noticed a while ago. Maggie knows for every boy there's that first love that they can never quite get over, someone they'll always remember, maybe compare their following relationships to. A sad truth, but a truth nonetheless. For Steve, Nancy is that first love. She'll always be somewhere in his mind, not as an option or a person he's still in love with, but just there. 

“You give everything to me,” Maggie states quietly, “you tried to give her everything, too.” She says a truth Steve hears for the first time aloud. 

“I did,” he says, “I really did. But it just didn’t work out. Jonathan is… her person. There's someone like that for everyone,” Steve admits and makes a gentle smile. Maggie nods. Do you think I'm that person for you? Or you for me? She doesn't want to get into that conversation now, “what else have you noticed about me?”

She huffs. “I don't know,” she says, “that was kind of the main one. Oh,” she remembers and raises her head up, “you don't drink beer by the pool anymore. And you don't hang around the pool alone after dark.” Maggie counts off two points, both of which ring true to Steve. He nods. 

“I was never one to be scared of the dark, but man,” he sways his head from shoulder to shoulder, “I feel like I'm five years old and running upstairs after turning the lights off, anytime I even take a look at the pool in the dark. Even if I'm here, upstairs.” Maggie gives the hand of his laying on his knee a gentle squeeze. 

“I was never scared of the dark, either,” she tells him, “I loved walking around the woods here, for hours, day or night.” She remembers. “But since two years ago… I just can't anymore. I do take detours sometimes during the day, but mom and Hopper always remind me to not go outside after dark, just in case. And they're right, I guess.”

“People in school used to say you were like the lady of the woods,” Steve tells her, “that you walked around the woods at night, even slept there instead of your house.” Maggie chuckles at that. “Made your clothes out of everything you found there.”

“What an old-fashioned rumor,” she deducts, and Steve agrees with a nod, “I used to go there to just listen to music, or read, or just stare at the sky. Now I can't go alone, or after dark, but that just… isn't right.”

“All this mess really ruined your go-to escape from the world, huh?” Steve asks, and Maggie nods. She somehow feels that the two of them have drifted into this limbo where they're just friends. The conversation sure feels that way. “Pretty sad.” He says and runs his thumb over Maggie's hand, the one intertwined with his own. 

“Yeah,” she agrees, not having thought about it much until now, “but I have other go-to escapes now.” She says and looks into his with a soft smile. Steve, tilted head resting against the cabinets, looks at Maggie with eyes full of nothing but love and affection, feeling head-over-heels for her all over again, and smiles wide. “Promise to not feel embarrassed about crying in front of me anymore?” She gently requests, and Steve nods.

“I promise,” he says and kisses the top of her hand, “you take such good care of me, Mags. Hardly let me do the same.” Steve states, making them both laugh. That's partly true, but only partly, because the support he gave her as soon as they reunited after recent tragic events was plenty enough. “It's gonna make you a good mom some day.”

Maggie looks at him, chin resting on her shoulder, wondering eyes staring into his. “You really think so?” She's always known that the way she loves people and shows that love is different from everyone else's way of doing so.

“Oh, I know so,” Steve confirms with a firm head nod, “any guy by your side then will be lucky to be there.”

“Who's to say it's not gonna be you?” Maggie inquires, and Steve just shrugs. “Thought you promised me this forever with you.” She partly jokes, partly not. 

“Things can change at any moment,” Steve states, “but I do hope more than anything that I will be that guy.” He tells her. “I'll work on that, and on the forever promise.” A promise to keep a promise.

Maggie smiles sweetly at him. “I don't want anyone other than you, I never would,” she admits quietly, looking into his eyes with her sincere ones. Steve's lip quivers into a smile and he sniffles again, eyes turning glassy, and pulls his girlfriend gently into his embrace, her legs across his. They curl into each other, he kisses the top of her head and breathes a deep sigh. 

Maggie rests a hand on his chest, and feels his breathing more even, body not trembling anymore. It's probably because of her, that effect she has on him. “You think I'll be like this for the rest of my life?” Steve asks quietly, in a wounded voice. “Or is it just… really bad right now?” She can hear the fear in his words.

“It's just bad right now,” Maggie answers, “you saw how I was around Hop's tribute day. I still miss him like hell, but the feeling… the grief, I guess, just got easier to bare.” She shrugs her shoulders softly. “Besides, not even a month has passed since that night. Give yourself time.”

Steve nods and rests his head atop Maggie's. “You know me, jumping to extremes,” he says and Maggie smiles softly. He does tend to do that, yes, “I just… I don't know. Do you think this will ever… stop haunting us?” 

She shrugs. “On the surface, maybe,” she ponders, “but it's gonna affect our subconscious, it already has. It's just not possible to walk away from things like this without a scratch on us - physical or otherwise.” Maggie sighs deeply. She knows it's not really an uplifting answer, but it's realistic. “I've been thinking of maybe asking Owens if he knows any therapists,” she admits, “someone who we might be able to talk to about all of what's happened, because let's be real, we can't just go to any therapist.” 

Therapy. Steve had never really thought about it. Probably because his parents never mentioned such a thing. Hell, they barely checked in on him when he came home bruised up in winter two years in a row. It's not like he could have told them about any of what's happened those previous two years, or now. He's glad their business trip's been extended and they're not home now, and won't be for his birthday, either. They don't have to see his bruised up face and he doesn't have to come up with an excuse. His father already thinks he's an irresponsible teenager who does nothing but laze around or get into fights. 

Mr and Mrs Harrington would never admit their son would need therapy. It would break their reality, they'd close off or give him a hard time about it. But he does need therapy, there's signs all around, one of them being the feeling of embarrassment about crying. “That'd be a good idea,” Steve agrees in the silence that's fallen between them. Maggie is glad to hear this from him, because she was fearing that Steve would condone the idea of seeing a therapist at its very roots, “how do we get in touch with him, though?”

They both chuckle. “I don't know, I'll ask mom if she knows,” Maggie suggests, “last year he gave them some number and codenames to contact him. All very secret, of course.” Steve chuckles quietly as his hand plays with Maggie's hand in her lap. 

“I've never been to therapy,” he admits, “never thought of it, really.”

“I can imagine, knowing your parents,” Maggie agrees, “no wonder your feelings are so complicated.” She chuckles, and Steve hums in response. “I think it'll be very good for us to talk to someone about it. Everything in therapy is confidential, so you can trust the specialist completely.”

“You ever seen a therapist?” He asks her, and Maggie nods.

“But it wasn't for long, because we ran out of free sessions and couldn't afford it,” she explains, “was right after mom divorced dad. The school counselor assigned me and Jonathan to see one. And after the free sessions ran out, we were given to the school's therapist, but… he wasn't much of a therapist.” She remembers how the guy tried to fish out some facts about Maggie's family that just weren't true, and were very similar to the rumors running around at that time. Felt like he was the rumor central for Hawkins High. “He seemed more like a news reporter fishing for a story.”

“Awh, I'm sorry,” Steve tells her, “horrible when people think your feelings are a joke. I know how that feels.” Maggie gives Steve's hand an affectionate squeeze at that. Tommy and Carol. His father. A handful of other people at school. King Steve has no feelings, they think, won't mind if we ridicule the few he chooses to show. “God, we had such a great day just now, and now I feel like I'm falling to pieces.” Steve says quietly and breathes a deep exhale, one he's tried to keep more tears down with. 

“It happens,” Maggie says, “just comes over you all of a sudden. We did have a great day.” She agrees and looks up at him. She sees tears in Steve's eyes, he's quiet, not saying a word nor trying to do so. There's a storm bubbling under his surface, almost brewing over the top, but he doesn't let it. Maggie can see and feel it, though. She reaches her free hand up to his cheek and turns it downwards, to the left, to be facing her. “Look at me,” she pleads at barely a whisper volume to him, urging Steve's diverted, shy eyes to finally meet hers. All this time she thought she was the shy one in their duo. His eyelashes sticking together with tears, eyes darting all around except for his love's eyes, Steve breathes a shaky sigh, “look at me.” Maggie requests again, even quieter this time, and Steve finally complies. Looking into her eyes, he realizes he should have just done it sooner. There's no hiding from her in the best way possible, and her eyes always offer sanctuary. Love, comfort, understanding. “I will pick those pieces up,” Maggie promises, her hand gently caressing her boyfriend's cheek, “you don't have to ask me, I will. You don't have to feel guilty for it, or like you owe me something. I'm always here, and I'll try to be there even when there's miles between us.” She gives him a gentle smile, and Steve nods, tears falling from his red eyes. 

Their foreheads press together, eyes closed, Maggie gently dries his cheeks of the fallen tears, and she smiles. “There's nothing wrong with you,” she tells him, and hears his breathing getting ragged again, “emotions need to be felt,” she reminds, “tears need to be cried, and they'll come in unexpected moments. But that's alright, too.” She circles both her other hands around her Steve's neck. “I accept and love every part of you, and I wish you would, too.” Maggie sighs quietly. Steve wraps both arms around her and pulls her closer, though almost impossibly so because they’re close as can be.

He draws in a trembling breath, and exhales a long one, also trembling. Maggie can feel the restrain in his chest, like his lungs are almost ruptured. “Me too,” he admits, “wish I could… see the world through your eyes sometimes. See myself how you see me.” Steve says in whispers, because he feels far too emotional to be talking at normal volume. The tears are back, and they're stealing his voice, puncturing his vocal cords. Maggie knows what that's like. Your feelings, your pain, restraining you. Hurts so bad you can't even speak. She rests her head in the crevice between his neck and shoulder. “S-Sorry,” Steve chokes out, “you probably wanna go back to sleep.” 

Maggie shakes her head gently. “I'm alright,” she assures him, “I'll stay with you however long it takes.” Steve sniffles, and Maggie feels his hand caressing her side. She knows his tending to fidget when feeling nervous, stressed, or when he's crying - though she's seen him do that only two times, and both were on the same day. And if he has someone he can hold, he'll fidget with their clothes, or hands, or hair. There's no one else in that position but Maggie, of course. 

She hates how he feels about himself. How him showing emotions and inner processes is embarrassing, how he thinks it's burdening towards Maggie, how his father has taught him that it's weak. It will take a long time to get over the trauma caused by all these interdimensional events, but it will take longer to heal from what Steve's been taught to think about himself. It is, essentially, changing the way his brain works. And yeah, Maggie has her own changing of brain work to do, because god knows her father left quite an effect on her, and her brothers. 

She just wishes that it all would be easier. That there would be just one hard thing to deal with at a time, just monsters or just childhood trauma. Only monsters or only insecurities. Not both at the same time.

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[aajjks]

bunny koo *walks up being him and wraps her arms around his neck* oh my handsome man.. what are you doing baby? another movie, really baby.. ah you’re the cutest.. but i have another idea on what you can do, wanna know? *runs her hands down his stomach, just fingertips brushing under the waistband of his boxers* come with me.. let me show you.. we’re going to go downstairs for this okay? it’s dark so let me guid you baby, *softly pushed him down by pushing on his hips, dangerously close to his crotch* sit in this recliner baby.. i have to do something.. i won’t be long.. *turns the lights on and then koo sees what was hiding in the dark, jungkooks ex owner. the horrible women who had her own obsession with him that drove her to the point of trying forcing herself onto him* hey baby, calm down, it’s okay! koo, baby look at me, look at me koo- jungkook look at me! there’s noonas good boy.. it’s okay.. listen to me *straddles him, placing her hands on either side of his head, resting on the back chair, caging him in* don’t let her touch you? oh baby, i’d kill her before i allow that scum near you- lesson? what did you do wrong? baby you didn’t do anything wrong, i promise you.. i brought her here to teach her a lesson, actually. you see, after you was taking out of her care it seems like that bitch still couldn’t leave you alone. after you told me about her trying to touch you- i know you didn’t let her baby, i believe you.. but after that i started doing my own digging into her, i wanted to know who exactly i was going to kill. and i found out something.. something i didn’t fucking like- *noona gets off his lap to retrieve her ipad to show him a website* do you see this baby? this is a website that bitch created, a website dedicated to you. here’s the thing, these clips range from the time you was forced into her care up until just a few days ago. the clips from years ago, she had cameras in your room, living room, even to the bathroom. she recorded everything you did. but the worst part? she was being paid for it. you see all these people? they paid to watch everything you did. and they still do. no baby, she doesn’t have any cameras in our house but she’s stalked you every single time we went out together. she has a videos on here of you fucking me, me riding you, or you eating my pussy. she shot it from the window that i guess we left open. but here’s the real kicker, this sick bitch wrote stories about you. her sick imagination created theses ideas on how she wanted to sexually torture you. she’s claimed you was always meant to be hers, her fuck toy, her prisoner. she never wanted to love you, she basically wanted to assault you baby.. but my good boy didn’t let that happen did you? no you didn’t. i’m so proud of you baby. but her masters update was how she planned on kidnapping you from me. she had this whole little plan to attack me and then have some of these men, men who paid to watch you sleep, some and tackle you. but you noona wouldn’t let that happen, i’d never let anything happen to you.. so with that being said, before i kill her, i want to make her suffer.. since she’s obsessed with the sick idea that you was hers, i want you to prove that you’re mine.. i want us to recreate one of these stories while she reads it to us.. what do you say baby? will you show her who’s good boy you really are?

“Hmm? I’m watching Oppenheimer noona! What do you mean? Ooh what? Yes tell me! I-I don’t understand noona… okay if you say so…umm why are we here though… oh it’s dark isn’t it? It’s almost creepy haha… oh noona be careful! Okay? what are you looking for? A-Are we going to fuck here??? Please say yes!?! Umm where are you going???? W-What the fuck!! WHAT IS SHE DOING HERE??)? No-Noona- I hate this bitch! WHAT IS SHE DOING HERE? HUH??? I don’t get it… SHE NEEDS TO LEAVE. I-I… noona This woman is fucking evil… she ruined my life! SHE DISGUSTS ME PLEASE DONT LET HER TOUCH ME! N-Noona!!! I’m sorry if you’re mad at me but please d-don’t punish me like this! W-What did I do???? What kind of a lesson is this!!?? …what? NO NOONA I SWEAR I DIDNT LET HER TOUCH ME ONCE PLEASE BELIEVE ME! …What are you trying to say? Oh my God… this is like my worst nightmare…. What is this?? What? Y-You can’t be serious??)? Sh-She did what??? Fucking creep! A sicko! Noona how did you find this all out??? This whore…. I can’t even find the right words! Noona please protect me from her- she makes me want to kill myself! This is all too much.. c-can’t hear it…. Noona! I WILL KILL HER!! you have no idea just how fucked up this woman is/- how she treated me noona! She made me hate myself! What? Disgusting…. All of her fantasies will remain just fantasies… God… I can’t breathe… i-i am so glad you found me noona- I love you so much.. wait what? D-Do you really think that’s a good idea? Yes I’m yours! Only yours, noona. I’ll do anything you ask me to. I’m yours… your good boy.”