#and it's fine I need to hear it I need to cement it in my head

[luminiamore]

SHH.

older brother choso x babysitter reader

a/n: this was for someone who requested a reader with waist beads. had such writers block with this omg

warnings: sub choso, he says mommy like once

masterlist

Homeless. The word never came to mind when you juggled around the possibilities of moving out of your parents’ home. You worked a decent job; it wasn’t much, but it was enough to pay the rent and small utilities. You never thought about what you would do if you happened to not have a job anymore. It never seemed plausible.

But unless this was some elaborate prank from your forbearing boss, you’re staring at a termination letter in the darkness of your room. You’re fired. There’s the proof right there, written in a fine, bold red print. They needed to cut budgets- they had to let a few people go. There’s also the fake sympathies of ‘We’re sorry to let you go’ and ‘You were a great employee’— all bullshit, really. A poor attempt at making you feel better.

You should’ve prepared for this, should’ve saved for more than a month’s rent. But you didn’t, and unless you find something in the next two weeks, you will run out of food. You had little experience, you had only been working at that café shop for three months. You try to find the same position at a different place, a little bit further from your place.

“Why do you want to work here?” A sharp feminine voice blinks you of your thoughts. Your eyes swiftly turn to the lady recruiter, but you frown when you realize hers were shifted downwards— on her notepad.

Because ya’ll are hiring?

You decide to take the honest route. You need to pay rent; you don’t have the capacity to come up with a lie. Maybe she’ll take pity on you.

“.. I- Uh. I just got fired from my previous job and only saved one month’s rent- I like the peacefulness of working at a local café since that was what I used to do. Your company also promotes natural and healing ingredients; that’s admirable.” You choose your words carefully.

You hear a hum, “Do you like these things?”

“I do. I like taking care of myself in and out, even energetically. It’s why I have these waist beads. They’re stones each have different healing properties.” Should you have rambled like that?

Your waist is a target of her attention, and as you mentioned, a collection of colorful, small, spherical stones adorn your waist. At least seven of them sat snugly under your slender stomach.

You piqued her interest because the next twenty minutes of your interview were a deep conversation about the different meanings held by the stones you wore. Maybe you’re reading too much into it, but her tone made it seem like she was impressed.

She dismisses you with a, ‘Expect a call in two weeks.’ and a smile. The only one she’s given you since you got here.

The wind in New York was quite strong, so when your shoes clattered on the cement beneath you, you were surprised when a paper hit you right in the face. Your lipgloss held the paper in place. You pull yourself to the side after moving the paper, and you see something just as you’re about to crumble it up.

babysitter wanted asap, will pay $50 an hour!

And just under that, his Instagram and a small description.

my name is choso, and i need some help looking after my little brother. he’s 5 years old, very cheerful, and generally well-behaved. i’m only 20, and if i continue taking care of him alone, i’ll probably fail my classes. it’s just the two of us, so if you’re interested my ig is @c.kamo

In all honesty, you were already hooked when you read $50 per hour. Is he rich or something? When you type in his Instagram, you’re taken aback.

The man you see now is dangerously attractive, making you wonder if this is a prank. You click on his story and- how lucky are you? The piercings on his eyebrow, nose, and lip were a striking contrast to his pale white face. His jaw is exceptionally sharp, his lips are pink and full, and his hair is styled into two adorable pigtails.

When you press your finger to show the following picture, you audibly gasp. His abs were pushing through a tight black compression shirt. His arms are veiny, firm- big. Your Uber almost left without you because of how struck you were.

You fold the paper stu, put it in your purse, and follow him, deciding to text him when you’re home. You just hope he’s still looking for a babysitter, you don’t know how long this paper has been rolling around the streets.

As usual, the doorman greeted you happily when you arrived after a short ride to your apartment. The constant buzzing on your phone since you got here has reminded you of the potential job offer that came to your attention a few moments ago.

You’re pushing your pants down when you go to his profile again, and you stop abruptly when you realize the man who followed nobody followed you back, and he sent you a message. A smile slowly creeps onto your lips, making you feel giddy.

That was easy, you think. If you had known how easy it was to earn money elsewhere, you would have quit ages ago. It makes you overthink, worrying that this was another one of those sex trafficking schemes you haven’t heard of yet.

Choso sends you his number afterwards and instructions for tomorrow. You feel at ease knowing that the address he sends you is in one of the skyscrapers in Long Island City. He even sent you the apartment number and told you to use his full name so the doorman could ring you up.

That morning, he informed you of a few things about Yuji. He may be reserved because his previous babysitters didn’t appreciate his energetic personality. Though, Choso assures you that once he feels comfortable, it won’t be long until he opens up. You’re a bit sad to hear that those who looked after him before weren’t very kind and that Yuji would often complain that he would have to play alone.

You figured they only mentioned babysitting to get Choso. When you told him this, his only response was,

‘get with me? i don’t see why, is there something in particular they want?’

Yeah, what’s in your pants. Is what you wanted to say.

Yuji leaves you feeling surprised when you meet him. This boy wasn’t anything like a reserved one. You don’t believe he could manifest such a thing. When he came to greet you, he jumped on you, and you had to quickly pull your hands from your pockets and catch him so he wouldn’t fall. You’re chuckling, and your voice is comforting the little boy when you speak,

“Oh! Hi, sweetheart. Nice to meet you, Yuji.”

His smile is blinding when he looks up at you, “You’re pretty! What are those beads for? Are you my new babysitter? Will you play with me?”

Choso observes your interactions with his brother and how you answer his questions as if it’s second nature. The beads that his brother mentioned caught his attention the moment you stepped through his door. He’s ashamed. He feels utterly ashamed to admit that he’s been gazing at them.

Out of curiosity at first, but then he noticed the way they moved whenever you did.

Choso was not the type to indulge in lustful thoughts. He didn’t have trouble keeping his eyes away from the previous babysitters who arrived at his house in the shortest skirts ever made.

So, why is it so hard to look away from you? From your waist?

There’s nothing revealing about what you’re wearing. Your outfit consists of a flowing white skirt that touches the ground, and he noticed that a black tank top keeps bouncing up no matter how many times you try to pull it down. Despite this, he is still unable to look away. You look soft, the beads are loosely adorning your hips, and suddenly, he can’t help but think of how his hands would look there.

Choso blinks. Where did that come from?

He shakes his head, attempting to shake himself away from these fantasies. He has to leave. He will miss his class if he doesn’t leave his seat on the kitchen counter.

He clears his throat, “He seems to like you already. I have to leave now.. for class. I’ll be home in 3 hours, and there is money on the counter if either of you gets hungry.”

When he speaks, you notice the uncomfortable look on his face. Does he not want to go? Is he worried? Although you hope not, you are questioning yourself when he walks towards you on the floor and gives his brother a kiss, but then passes you without even giving you a glance.

Well... That was uncalled for. Yuji takes hold of your hand and leads you to his LEGO collection, preventing you from pondering it.

Choso doesn’t come home in three hours like he said. Rather, two hours later. He did let you know, though. He really wasn’t the type to do this, so it wouldn’t be fair to you if he didn’t. He tried his best to delay as much as possible because he wasn’t ready to see you yet. He was afraid of those thoughts from earlier and wasn’t prepared to come face-to-face with them again.

Alas, he had to. He closes the door to his apartment with a smooth click and is greeted with the sound of TV. He doesn’t hear much, but what he thinks is.. light snoring?

He makes a slow walk to the living room, and there you both are. You’re lying on your back, your mouth slightly open in a light snore, and your left arm is dangling off the corner of the cushion. Yuji is on top of you, also on his back, and is practically in the same position as you.

Choso’s instincts drive him to walk towards you both, and what he does next is entirely natural. He lightly ruffles Yuji’s hair to avoid waking him and kisses his forehead. He thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, even with the few hairs on your laid black lace that covers your right eye when he looks up at you.

He brushes it to the side, immediately flinching back when you move your head in your sleep. What the fuck is he doing?

He rushes to get a glass of water, taking care not to make any abrupt sounds. He wants to let you sleep a little, he reasons with himself that he’s just being a good person. In reality, he doesn’t want you to leave yet. He refuses to believe he does not want to wake you because of his selfish motives.

“Choso?”

He jumps, almost dropping the glass in his hand.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Yuji-” When he fully faces you, he stops short. The pictures on your Instagram had nothing on you, honestly. Both your skirt and tank top are now lower than when you came here, and he can clearly see your voluptuous tits. The cute pudge of your stomach wrapped by those fucking waist beads is also visible to him.

You’re still half asleep when you notice he’s not talking, so you don’t care much to interrogate him. Your tone of voice is one of concern when you say, “I put Yuji in his room, don’t worry. You okay?”

No. Far from it, actually. That is what he desperately wants to say. But how could he explain what it is that’s really wrong with him? He’s having unnatural thoughts about you, including your body and face. You might think that he’s a creep. Yuji seems to have a good relationship with you. What is the probability that he will find someone like you again?

He doesn’t want to risk it; he doesn’t want to take that chance. So, he answers you, “I’m great. Nothing is wrong at all. Did you, uh, have fun with Yuji?”

“Oh, yeah! He was great, he always had something new for us to…”

Whatever you’re talking about gets tuned out by Choso. He hates himself for it. He’s sure what you’re saying is important, he doesn’t doubt it for a second. But did you ever notice that your lips twitch whenever you speak? That you start playing with the ends of your hair when you suddenly become hyper-aware that his eye contact is unwaveringly on you.

He’s not looking directly into your eyes but rather at your entire body. His eyes would shift from your lips, then to your chest, but they would always find their way back to your hips. You had a hunch that he wasn’t really listening to what you were saying. And you catch on quickly, so you decide to tease him.

“I think if I keep stretching, I’ll be able to do the splits in a week. Don’t you think so, Cho?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Cho? You already gave him a nickname?

Even though you stifle a giggle, it eventually becomes a full-blown laugh. The mere sound brings Choso to a smile before he covers his face sheepishly.

“I didn’t mean to zone you out, I just had a long day.”

“I can see that.” You finish your fit of giggles and move over to his fridge and check to see if you have any leftovers from earlier, “You should eat. There’s some leftover Chinese in the fridge, I can heat it up for you?”

He hurriedly takes his bag off and drops it on the ground before sitting on the countertop. “I’d have to pay you more for your services.”

“You don’t have to pay me, I can’t in my good conscience leave you alone like that. You can barely stand up.” As you microwave some leftover fried rice, you can hear him hum. All the while, his eyes never leave your frame- waist.

“This is actually the first time I didn’t have to rush home early.” He murmurs, his hand holding his face up while he admires you.

As you wait for the timer to end, you turn your attention towards him, “Really? Is that why you took your sweet time coming home?”

He likes how you say ‘coming home’, as if he’s coming home to you. As though you were living together. When he detects the annoyance in your tone, he frowns, “I apologized.”

You notice his pout as you hand him the hot plastic food container. “It won’t happen again if that’s what you’re worried about. Please don’t quit, I really-”

“Woah, I’m not quitting.”

You cut him off, and he can reply with nothing but an “Oh.”

When you gather your purse and keys, Choso watches- You’re leaving already?

“Yeah, you pay really well, anddd I like Yuji.” You were sincere. A salary like this shouldn’t be wasted because of a delayed arrival. At least he informed you that he would be late; that’s better than nothing. And it’s true, you really liked Yuji. It was natural for you to get along with him as if he was already a family member.

It’s endearing how Choso abandons his food to follow after you as you walk towards his door. “It was fun babysitting, Cho! Text me when you need me-”

“Tomorrow? Could you come again tomorrow at the same time?”

You’re momentarily speechless, but remember he’s waiting for a response, “Tomorrow?”

“I might need you for the rest of the week actually, I have a few finals coming up.” Choso is smart. He doesn’t really need to study for these finals, but he figures he can use that as an excuse to have you here, with him.

You stutter out, “Well- Well, I still have to go job hunting..”

“I can triple your pay. Quadruple it if you want.” He said without delay as if he hadn’t offered to pay you more than $500 daily just to spend some time with his brother.

“Is money just not that big of an issue for you?” You laugh, perplexed as to why this man is just throwing money at you like you’re a common whore.

Not when it comes to you, no. “No. Will you come back for the week?” His answer is blunt, honest, stoic even, like he doesn’t catch on to why you’re in such disbelief.

“I- I guess.” At that moment, he offers you a lazy smile and wishes you goodnight. He complemented his words with a sweet ‘You looked very pretty today, by the way.’ Allowing you to drive away in the Uber flustered and thinking about the entire interaction on your way home.

The next four days were the same: Choso left for class, you spent an afternoon with Yuji, and a small conversation and meal between you and Choso happened right before you left for that night in the kitchen. You assumed it would be the same when he asked you to take care of Yuji while he was studying at home.

As you neared the end of the week, those conversations grew longer…and more secluded. Choso is usually found in his room with his face stuffed in a big textbook and his notes. When you sat on his bed, he would move them to the side and give you his full attention.

“So, you’ve never had a girlfriend?” You repeat his statement back at him with a look of apprehension. How is that even possible? He’s hot, rich, and really smart, too. How come he’s not taken?

When he answers you, he doesn’t seem embarrassed, “No. I haven’t met anyone.. interesting, yet.”

You stare at the ceiling as you take in his words, “Are you saving yourself for marriage?”

“I’ve had sex once. It wasn’t memorable enough for me to do it again.” Choso’s face becomes warm when he responds to you. Is it even right for him to share these things with you? He is curious about your thoughts when you don’t speak for an entire minute. His body is shaking in anxiety while he is in his gaming chair.

You huff, sprawled out on his bed, “I don’t think anyone’s first time is the best.”

He raises a brow, making a sound that urges you to finish, “You need experience to figure out what you like and don’t like.”

“Do-Do you have experience?”

You smile and finally turn to look at the pale man, “Why, yes, I do.”

“…Could you teach me some things?”

Silence. Choso doesn’t know why he said that. He’s not sure why you guys are even talking about this. Maybe it was too soon? Maybe you didn’t see him that way? What if you decide to leave?

“M-Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. You don’t have to-”

“Sure, I’ll teach you.” Lifting yourself off his bed, you stop in front of the space between his legs. The physical struggle he’s facing to not grab you can be seen as he repositions his eyes on your waist again.

Leaning close to his lap, you place your hands on his shoulders, “If that’s what you really want.”

Your movements are slow, particularly when you put your ass right on his bulge, which has been there since you entered his room. Choso is at a loss with his hands, so you help by positioning them on both sides of your hips. He instantly squeezes and you can’t help but notice that small mewl coming from his lips.

“Is that what you want, Cho?”

His nod is swift and desperate even as his mind starts to get hazy. You smell really good, and the feeling of you on his lap is quickly becoming something he wants more of. His head is already in the crook of your neck, and his soft lips touch you before he tentatively sucks.

You gently pull his head back by his hair, and the sound that comes from his lips is raw and deafening. “Don’t go mute now. Use your words.”

“Yes.. please.” He’s panting, his eyes hooded and low as he gazes into yours. His words prompt you to gently press your lips against his, proving his resolve. He didn’t have much, or any at all, because he snatched your lips harshly. You’re gasping because of the sensation of his hands gripping your waist and pulling at your waist beads. He’s grumbling about how you taste and how you feel so much softer than he could ever imagine.

Choso’s breath becomes choppy when you start grinding against his bulge, and he can even detect your swollen lips through your shorts. His hands begin to creep up your body, and his fingers immediately pull down the top of your tank, exposing your tits. You weren’t even wearing a bra.

You swallow loudly when he releases your lips and lowers his head to wrap them around your dark areola, squeezing the other hand to ensure it’s not neglected. Choso gets lost in your taste and hypnotized by how you twitch and buck whenever he bites gently. He withdraws with a pop and swiftly leans down to fill his mouth with the one his hand was holding.

You gasp out, “Since this is a lesson, I should teach you how to-”

“Eat you out?” Although his words are muffled, you can still hear them clearly. You make an effort to chuckle, but he bites your nipples again, making you release a small moan. There’s no chance to react because he suddenly lifts you up, takes two steps from his chair, and sets you down on his bed.

Choso is prompt and hurries you out of your shorts and panties. The lace pair is flimsy and rips easily due to his strength- his eagerness. His face is flush against your cunt as he forces your legs apart. Even if you tried, you couldn’t move because of his firm clasp.

Your lips are gleaming and dripping on his lips, you are so wet. When he finally drags his tongue between your folds, he can feel your throbbing, “You taste amazing.”

His lips wrap around your clit and suck harshly, causing slight twitching and cross eyes. It’s impossible to think he only did this once. He’s sucking so obscenely and poking at your quivering hole incessantly. Choso is moaning against you like he’s been dying to do this. There’s no way he only did this once. You’re overwhelmed by the way he’s making you feel,

“Right there! Shit- Oh! You’re doing so- so good.”

At the praise, his eyes roll back, and his cock throbs against his boxers. The way he slowly pushes his middle finger into you is riveting, stretching you better than your fingers could ever. Your breath staggers as you let out a sinful moan.

Your hips begin buckling, your beads thrash as you move, and Choso has to put a heavy hand on your stomach to prevent you from running away when he accelerates his ministrations. He’s keeping you steady while curling his finger upwards and punching your G-spot over and over again. He adds another one and twists them, hoping to receive your praise again.

You wail out a beautiful symphony, “Yes- fuck! M’gonna cum. You’re gonna make me cum, baby.”

He loves the way you make dirty words sound angelic. He’s the one who’s going to make you cum, he’s the one making you tremble and cry out at the mercy of his tongue and two fingers. The pressure in your stomach is so intense that you feel like you’re on fire, like a dam is about to burst.

“Cum. Please, please. I want it so bad, want you to make a m-mess.”

Your head is turning as he continues to make love with your hole, kissing the hood of your clit with his rough passion. An earth-shattering orgasm rips through you, and your chest rises up and down as your back arches without much help. With your head thrown back, your hands scramble to grab his hair to keep him where he is. He was too determined to savor every last bit of your sweet essence, so he wouldn’t even dare move anyway.

As you stumble out, your body shakes violently, “Ah! You’re such a good boy, Cho.”

Low whimpers vibrate against your core, and you don’t delay in pulling him up your body and kissing him, moaning when you taste yourself on his tongue. He’s becoming needy once more and doesn’t hesitate to start grinding his fat cock against your thigh- his boxers being long gone.

He doesn’t pull away from your lips when he speaks, “Can I put it in now? Please?”

The way he begs is so sweet, and it makes you coo as your soft hand grabs his length to lead it to your sopping cunt. Jesus, he’s big. Abnormally big, how did he hide this?

You’re teasing him by slowly sliding his flushed tip between your lips, never going in. His moans are whiny, and his hips twitch every time he goes over your tight hole. Choso’s balls are churning, he might just cum like this.

“Please- wanna fuck you. Just put it in, p-put it- Fuck.”

His lips swell with a deep moan as you finally push his tip in. You’re so wet, so warm. He has to push the rest of his thick cock inside to feel you clench on him entirely, and he does. He bucks instantly, forcing almost half of him inside your dripping mound, and the stretch he’s giving you is painful but euphoric.

You have to silence Choso with your lips against his lips after he releases another pornographic moan, “Shh, baby. Don’t- Don’t wanna wake your brother up.”

You move your hips, causing him to slip the remaining inches inside you. He’s speedy in pulling back, bringing his tip to your entrance, and then slamming his hips against yours. You’re groaning against his lips, gasping every time you hear a slick noise coming from between your legs.

The sensation of your cunt being so warm and suffocating him back inside with a tight grip is making his mind go into a coma. As Choso gives you deep, sweet strokes, his hold on your waist is harsh, and you anticipate feeling sore tomorrow. He’s not going to last long, you feel too good.

“You’re fucking me so good, Cho! Harder, baby. Just like that, fuck me harder.” He follows your instructions swiftly as if he’s afraid of disappointing you. Your words are motivating him to work harder, to make this experience perfect for you.

He’s whimpering pathetically above you, his thrusts getting harsher and deeper when he fucks into you. “M’gonna cum. You feel so- Shit. Please- Please let me fill you up.”

“Yeah? Wanna fill me up? Beg a little more.” As you whisper in a daze, you’re spent and almost at your peak.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease- Ah shit! Please, mommy!” Choso moans into your neck while his hips bump into yours in uncoordinated movements. Your cunt is a perfect fit against him, he can’t get enough of it.

You were surprised by the impact a single word had on you. You’re wrapping your legs around the man above you, arching your back off the bed as your fat pussy squeezes his cock, releasing your juices all over his body. That’s all Choso needs to dump his seed inside of you, having to bite your shoulder to not release a loud moan that would surely wake Yuji up.

Choso falls onto you, both of your movements still, as your breaths are heavy and your bodies are dripping with sweat. You don’t speak but rather sink into his embrace and the aftertaste. He finally ends the silence,

“I think I know what I like now.”

You make a confused sound, “What’s that?”

“..You. I like you.”

As you prepare to respond, a faint snoring noise interrupts you. He fell asleep. You chuckle and stroke his hair in a comforting motion before kissing the side of his head. Your mind is brimming with unspoken thoughts of,

I like you too.

[7kh]

༉ ease your mind.

cw — wlw. ambessa x f!reader. ambesscock. that’s it that’s the fic. fingering. slight orgasm denial if you squint. pussy slapping. overstimulation. creampie. ambessa loves her stupid little wife (not outwardly said but. yk). ambessa has a huge cock and it almost kills reader (not clickbait!!!)

you stood at the balcony of your palatial-like room, the cold air of the evening hitting your cheeks as your brows furrowed. ambessa sighed at the sight. you were her prized possession, she cleared the rust from you and made you lustrous; now, you were gradually dulling. she couldn’t let that happen. “your performance reflects your effort, little one. you’ve been dragging your feet all week.”

you internally winced at her words. there was no getting around ambessa, no slick tricks or batting eyelashes could conceal how you really felt. “you’re spending too much time in your head. no more of this self-deprecating prattle; you’re fine.” she said finally.

“right..” you exhaled under your breath.

she huffed. if there was one thing she loved about you, it was your compliance. not that it started that way; you had thorns in your words, much to her chagrin. “you disagree,” she noted.

you were a bit too quick to answer, “i do not,”

“no?” she raised an eyebrow at you. another weird shot in your stomach at the slightly teasing tone in her voice. “it’s… it’s silly.” you gulped. “silly.” that was the word you decided? it surprised her even though it shouldn’t. “humor me.”

your eyes briefly flicked to her face for a moment before you looked back down, sighing defeatedly. damn her. “i.. have been dissatisfied with my performance lately. and i fear you have to.” you muttered, you almost thought she didn’t hear you and would coax you to speak louder. but she understood you just clearly. she just didn’t understand why. “so?” you raised an eyebrow at her, looking up at her, continuing as she didn’t let you get the chance to speak yet. “i would have said something to you if i had any grievances. do you doubt my methods?”

mouth slightly gape, you closed it and swallowed again, looking down at the white cement beneath you, “n..no.” ambessa smirked. “no?” she repeated. “then do not waste your brain on such frivolous matters. or do you need a reminder on who exactly you belong to?”

“i-i..” somehow, you were just now made aware of her very close proximity to you. maybe a little too close if you weren’t busy rubbing your thighs together at the mere idea.

“i think you do.”

—

a violent, shuttering breath came from your chest as ambessa’s thick fingers worked amongst your slit, teasing up and down slowly before she rubbed firm yet calculated circles on your clit. gripping the red silk sheets for dear life, and she barely even started. “isn’t this better, hm? a great difference than whatever nonsense you had in that little head of yours.” you sobbed at her teasing, quickly throwing your head back when she added a thick finger inside you. you already felt so full, what more could she have?

you tried your absolute hardest to not squirm and writhe under her when she added another finger, the lewd squelching of your aroused pussy echoing the sumptuous walls. “absolute submission suits you far better, darling..” she drawled while slyly adding a third finger. you nodded dumbly, agreeing to whatever eloquent words she cooed to you. they made your pussy drool hot, creamy juices that made her stomach churn in satisfaction. you pleaded and gasped, her scarred forearm never faltering when your nails dug into it.

to her truimph of having you exactly where she wanted, she removed her fingers, licking them clean shamelessly. messily. like she was sampling piltover cuisine again. except this time it was from your pretty pussy, which automatically made it 10x better than the diplomatic, ‘progressive’ city.

you whine at the loss, bucking your hips up to desperately chase the feeling again until a harsh slap met your cunt, making you squeak and close your thighs together instinctively. “don’t be greedy,” she growled, her blunt hands grabbing the supple skin of your thighs and spreading them wide open for her. you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so incredibly aroused right now. “good girls don’t get rewarded if they’re inattentive. behave.” she leaned down to say firmly in your ear. you had no other choice but to nod your head, sniffling in compliance.

“your words, girl.”

“y-yes, ambessa.”

“good,” she smirked, leaning up again, lazily undoing her pants with an unreadable expression on her face. she knew you loved this sight of her, standing tall at the edge of the bed as you anticipated for what’s going to come next. it gave you a grueling feeling in your stomach, yet you chased it. chased her. with a scarred hand, she guided her cock out of the tight and inconvenient confines of her pants, mostly, if not already rock hard. dribbles of precum ran from her slit, making your mouth water at the sight, desperately wanting a taste. but not right now. was she twitching from the cool air of the room, or is she just simply built up and found the chance to finally fuck you? it was probably both.

she didn’t even let you breathe before you felt your knees rub against your chest and pulling you further to the edge of the bed, her slick tip sliding up against your slit, making you shudder. “let me show you how i value your excellence above anything else.” she finally sunk her cock into you, inch by inch, making you cry out. she wasn’t even fully in you yet. “breathe,” she cooed, guiding you through it was the least she could do. she held your legs steady as she sunk even further into you, biting your lip to alleviate the slight uncomfortableness. all of this, for you? the least you could do is just sit there and take it.

but, as soon as the pain faded away, you almost instantly became drunk on her cock, every snap of her hips knocked the wind out of you. your pussy salivated on her, smearing on her stomach and thighs and even on the bed, but she didn’t care. in fact, she encouraged it so much she forced you to look down at the sheer mess you were making. you were embarrassed, but the way you felt her cock twitch and hearing her groan when she saw the way she glided in and out of you made it worth it.

she made you pliable. a moldable, sticky mess, like you were designed by the gods to piece together perfectly like a complicated and difficult puzzle. “please, please please..” you whined, feeling her splitting you open. you were so full of her it was like you could fucking feel her in your throat, her cock kissing and bruising you in places you were unaware of until this evening. she was too big, you finalized— yet you could take it, she knew you could. each pant, moan and whine made that very clear to her.

“just fabulous..” she praised under her breath, appreciating how it earned a squeeze and twitches from your dewy, spongy walls. she knew you were getting close, dangerously so. she never relented her pace, having you babble and slur out nonsense, praise for her fucking you so good, thanking her for fixing your silly self-deprecating problems. she simply smirked and exchanged back filth to your slushed mind, but her smirk would slightly falter as she felt herself growing closer to release as well.

“‘bessa, gonna cum, i’m gonna cum, fuck—!!” you were only met with a nod, a final command as you followed it, like always. sobbing helplessly, a final, brutal slam made you gush everywhere, sinking herself down as you came unbelievably hard, your moans borderline whorish when you felt her cum deep inside you, a few shallow thrusts to ensure no drop escaped.

she barely even broke a sweat, yet you were under her fucked out of your mind, thighs twitching in mock-withdrawal in her hands, face ridden with tears and sweat. you were looked a mess, but you never looked more gorgeous in ambessa’s eyes.

her eyes widened softly as your arms wrapped around her neck and pulled her closer to you, but she made no attempt to pull away. she chuckled at your deprivation, rewarding you with a kiss on the side of your lips. “it seems like i hadn’t fail you this time.” you nodded and let out a meek “no” in response. you were too weak to speak at the moment.

you just wanted to selfishly bask in her embrace just a wee longer, wanting your skin to be hers for just a moment.

© 7KH 2024, all rights reserved — do not claim, modify, copy or translate my content.

[fallow-hollow]

five stages of grief

…ft! kabru x gn! oblivious! reader

…tags! pining, confession, kabru is a bit of a freak about this, oblivious reader, reader is an adventurer

…word count! 2671

…notes! spreading my kabruganda to the masses!!! kabru is my me so I very much enjoy writing him

denial

At first, Kabru was so convinced that there was something behind your happy-go-lucky exterior.

You were so skilled in the dungeon, able to make it down to floors that even he hadn’t traversed yet. So you must have a good grasp on tactics, not only in battle, but also when socializing! Yes, maybe you read people expertly when they’d respond in kind to your friendly behavior…..

During the stage where you’re acquainted but don’t know much about each other personally, he spends so long crafting theories about what’s going on inside your head.

His party members get sick of hearing about it halfway through the second week.

Once you meet again in person, he’s ecstatic to have an opportunity to take a closer look at your inner workings. His words and mannerisms are calm and purposeful, but there is a certain spark in his eyes, almost trying to illuminate your thoughts and feelings with its shine.

Over the course of the conversation, Kabru starts getting a bit confused at his lack of new findings about you. It takes you saying something particularly damning for him to finally reach the dreaded conclusion.

“I don’t usually run into you in places like this.”

Kabru had encountered you one evening after exiting his room and seeing you and a few party members at the bar. It was nothing short of a strike of luck, and most certainly not him deliberately staying home that evening because he’d overheard your plans to go out.

“Hm?” You perked up, looking at him with a blank expression that was quickly replaced with a kind smile. Even trying to look closely, he couldn’t find anything present in your face except for a simple joy.

He would approach you with long strides, placing one hand on the back of your chair as to be friendly and intimate, but not so intimate as to make you recoil from a touch. The wink he gave you was with the eye facing away from the others on the opposite side of the table, ensuring most of them wouldn’t notice his flirtatious gesture.

“Want me to buy you a drink?”

Immediately, you raised one hand in polite refusal, your smile turning into more of a sheepish one. “Oh, I don’t know if I’d be able to pay you back. I wasn’t going to splurge much tonight anyway….”

As you talked, Kabru pulled up a free chair and sat down, a gesture that cemented himself in the conversation and setting. He noticed when he sat down in the middle of conversation, it made people less likely to turn him away than if he were still standing.

“No, no.” when he shook his head, his dark curls did a swishing movement. Once he looked back at you, he gave a half-lidded smile, only a tinge sultry in hopes you’d pick up his hints. “Your company is more than enough payment for me.”

Your party could only stare on with absolute pity as you waved your previously raised hand dismissively, giving what Kabru could only assume was a reassuring nod. Why did you think he needed reassured….? What did you think he meant?

“It’s completely fine, no need to be polite! We’re beyond such niceties at this point, I’d say. After all, I consider us to be at least a little bit friends, right? You don’t need to buy me a drink just to hang out!”

For a brief period, Kabru felt as if his whole world was spinning around him, before then shattering at the unknowing sledgehammer of your words. These statements and mannerisms suggested something far more than just a passive rejection…… no, it was something much darker.

You truly were as dense as a brick wall.

anger

Kabru doesn’t always react….. too calmly when people defy his expectations.

He’s able to keep a smile on his face just fine, but on the inside he’s screaming.

What do you mean there isn’t more? Where’s the scheme? The ulterior motive? The familiar secrets he can unravel and use to his advantage? Is it so bad that he wants there to be more?????

I’ll be honest, the man experiences his fair number of homicidal thoughts about you. In a strangely romantic way!

You’ll be chatting away with him, each remark and flirtation absolutely flying over your head, and inside his mind he’s just going I should gut them right here and sort their bones and vitals by size if they won’t let me dissect them the mental way.

And then seconds later he’ll go haha what was that! Anyway yes tell me more about the cute bird you saw last week.

I think Kabru does a lot of journaling, so he has a fair number of notes about you. Sometimes they’re drawings of you with notes about your appearance and physical mannerisms, other times he writes more free form about his thoughts regarding you. When he gets particularly frustrated, the writing can became scratchy or heavy handed to the point that it’s unreadable or nearly tears the paper.

The silence and solitude of the night was briefly interrupted by Rin rolling over in her sleeping bag. She was just beyond the range of the firelight where Kabru was still writing, and he could only barely see the way she squinted at him through her own tiredness.

“What are you scribbling about so late at night?” The mage would try to start another sentence, but be cut off by a yawn. If she was trying to be intimidating, it certainly wasn’t working. “Go to bed, Kabru, or else you’ll wake up to being sprayed by an undine if I have anything to say about it.”

That was a rather unpleasant thought….. even if the threat wasn’t legitimate, Kabru recognized that he’d probably spent far more time writing than intended. It was embarrassingly easy to get distracted when it came to you….just another thing that irked him about you. Yes…..’irked’. That’s most certainly the word.

“I’ll wrap it up soon, sorry to disturb your sleep, Rin.” With a grumble, the girl rolled back over, leaving Kabru to glance at his notebook for just a brief moment more before closing it. The writing was near illegible, but he still knew the words by heart:

‘I wouldn’t mind if they were scared of me. Maybe, if they sat on the other end of my sword, trembling and wide-eyed like human prey, I’d get to see a truly untouched side of them.’

bargaining

After the shock and rage subsides, Kabru tries to make you realize his feelings through pretty much every method imaginable except for confessing.

It feels like the man always appears at your side, always claiming he ‘happened to be in the area’ or something similar. And you never even question it, infuriatingly for him.

Your party members often tell you that something is up with the guy, that he’s hanging around you a suspicious amount but never being fully transparent, but you’d feel so bad about being suspicious of him when he’s done nothing but inquire about you and even offer gifts on rare occasions!

Kabru isn’t exactly the richest of adventurers, so gifts or treating you isn’t a regular occasion, but it’s certainly something he resorts to as a last ditch effort to try and get you to realize that he’s interested in you romantically.

Once he even tried to offer you a flower, but you still didn’t take the hint.

When you saw the flower in Kabru’s hand that day, your first thought was being so flattered that he remembered your conversation about which ones you both liked.

“Oh, Kabru!” You exclaimed with pure joy, causing the man to become embarrassingly excited that perhaps you had finally noticed the meaning behind all his gestures. Were you finally moved and wowed by his considerate, perfectly planned gift.

Clapping your hands together, you would beam and say, “You liked my favorite flower so much that you wanted to get one for yourself?”

A fly could’ve soared down Kabru’s throat in the time of that pause, but you paid it no mind, instead eagerly awaiting his reply.

The look on Kabru’s face was a completely blank smile, his bright blue eyes seeming to have almost burned out like a pair of oil lamps. Then, as he regained his composure, those lights flickered back on again, albeit wavering slightly.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take it yourself? If you like it so much, I’d be happy to let you take it home.” Poor Kabru, he should have learned by now that hints have no effect against the impenetrable fortress that is your cluelessness.

Your grin was the nail in the coffin, letting him know you had something in your head that was absolutely not anything he could anticipate from anyone else. “But why not use it as some decoration? Your party members always talk about how sparse your room is, and it could even remind you of me when I’m away! Here—“

You ushered him closer, a hand now on the small of his back giving him sparks that teetered between pleasurable and painful. The free hand gestured to the plant he held so delicately, pointing out different features like the petals, stem, and so on. “I can even tell you some facts about it; that’ll help you enjoy it that much more deeply whenever you see it! And you’ll remember our conversation!”

The way you could be so resistant to his advances yet so sweet to him could be nothing short of torturous sometimes.

depression

For a while, something fairly rare happens to Kabru: he falls into a slump.

He spends a long time in the dungeon, slashing away at monsters as if it might help him clear his head. His teammates notice that he can get more aggressive in combat than usual, but never really ask him about it.

He also becomes more spacey during mealtimes, and while some peaceful silence is nice, having Kabru of all people be so uncharacteristically quiet for so long.

It comes to the point that something similar to an intervention happens one day after dinner.

“What’s up with you, Kabru?” Mickbell wasn’t one to beat around the bush, immediately starting his line of questioning while looking at his teammate, void of mischief or amusement. “You’ve been all broody and silent all week. Can’t just expect us to not ask about it.”

“What Mickbell said,” Kuro concurred almost immediately after.

The tallman did his best to blink away his tiredness and offer a more confident look that he usually used when trying to rally his team under an idea or calm them down. “I didn’t mean to make you guys worry that much about me. It’s just something I’ve been personally interested in, so it’s not something you guys need to worry about.”

“A personal problem?” Rin cocked a brow. “If I know anything about what interests you, it’s probably a person.”

“Haha, caught me red-handed like always.” He raised his hands in faux surrender, though Rin didn’t seem to be put at ease by the gesture, so he tacked on another statement. “I was surprisingly stumped on what tactics to use when talking to a certain person, it’s really got me thinking.” Averting his gaze to the side, he could almost conjure an image of your grinning face in the corner of his vision. “It’s pretty exciting, though, so I don’t mind.”

“Ugh, I knew it!” The half foot threw his head back in exasperation, causing Kuro to extend one arm behind him in case he fell. “It’s that brick-headed adventurer you’re getting all cozy with, isn’t it?! What, you thinking of starting a new party?”

While Mickbell was busy stomping his foot to punctuate his accusation, Holm merely hummed. The gnome usually stayed pretty impartial to matters like this, but that didn’t mean he could always resist throwing in a comment or two.

“I’d be stumped too if I thought about human interaction like a battlefield.” His tone of voice remained soft, but his words were still quite pointed. “You really have to be upfront about your feelings sometimes, you know that? At least, if Mick’s description can actually be trusted.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?!”

After those two broke down into petty squabbling, Kabru could merely try his best to mask his realization behind a tight-mouthed grin.

Holm was right, and he hated it more than anything.

acceptance

Okay, this is the part where Kabru actually bites the bullet and talks about his feelings. Truly a miracle of life.

Kabru can have a lot of trouble being fully vulnerable due to feeling like he’s losing control, so he does his best to maintain control over the rest of the outing. He arranges the time, location, even makes sure to get there first. It’s the most he can do to not feel completely helpless at the whims of his own fickle heart.

When you arrive, a new wave of nervousness hits him that’s almost like nothing before. Kabru has slain men without a second thought, and here he is resisting the urge to tremble because he has to tell his crush he likes them.

He starts off with small talk, sort of building up to his confession while also beating around the bush just a little. Asking you how you’ve been, if you’ve done anything noteworthy, if you’ve meet any new people…..

Eventually, Kabru decides that if he waits any longer, he may instinctually try to hide his intentions in the long strings of small talk he’s making, so he finally takes that leap.

He said your name, and your eyes flickered up to his face. Even if you were spacey at times, you never stared past him or through him whenever he was addressing you. It made him feel….strange. It was odd to feel truly perceived at times.

“Can I be….. terribly honest with you?” He cards his fingers through his curls and closes his eyes, and you couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly beautiful he looked.

“Of course,” you responded without thinking. Not like you ever needed to think twice about your appreciation for the man. More than that, really.

There was stillness, and all you could hear was Kabru’s deep inhale through his nose. He intended to phrase it more eloquently, he really did, but when he opened his eyes again and saw you waiting on his words with baited breath, there was this instinctive fear that maybe this would be his only chance. That you would walk away or disappear, leaving him with only the memory.

He didn’t want just a memory.

“I want you to know that I love you above all else.”

Your mouth hung agape like his had many times in response to your own remarks. Were it not for how shocked he was at his own words, he would have chuckled at how cute you look.

Before he could even scramble to elaborate on his uncharacteristically blunt comment, you blurted out in a similar fashion, voice slightly raised and head perked up,

“You really feel that way?!”

Faced with your blushing face, Kabru could only affirm the feelings that you promoted from somewhere deep within him. “Yes, I’d been trying to win you over for a long time, really.”

If you were flushed before, then now you were nothing short of flooded with embarrassment from ear to ear. Despite this, you were smiling, wobbly and sheepish. “I mean, it’s not like I’m shocked in a bad way or anything — I always thought you were really wonderful, too wonderful for me anyway. I really never thought you were pursuing me of all people!”

For the longest time, your denseness had given Kabru untold grief. Upon seeing you state it so plainly, however, he just couldn’t find it in his heart to be upset. Not when it was one of the things that made you so fascinating.

“I’d sort of figured as such, yeah.”

[strangersteddierthings]

"Look, Steve, I don't have any bad feelings towards you," Eddie says, has been saying, talking nonsense, like he and Steve weren't anything more than fuckbuddies, like he isn't breaking Steve's heart. "I used you too, y'know?"

It's then Steve rears back like he been slapped. Or punched. It feels more like a gutting. Joke's on him, he supposes. Once again, he wants more than the other person. He wanted a boyfriend, Eddie'd wanted sex. Why does he keep trying? When Steve finds his voice to speak, it comes out flat and dead and not really like a question at all. "Used me. Like you think I've used you?"

Eddie shrugs, looking for all the world like he's not bothered by that statement. "We had fun, right? So it's all fine in the end."

"Fine," Steve repeats, hollow. They're in his house but Steve feels the need to leave, to run before the reality of how unlovable he truly is sticks inside him forever.

"But I think we should stop while we're ahead," Eddie continues and Steve wonders if Eddie is listening to him at all, or just saying his piece before he goes. Can he not hear Steve's heart breaking? "I want to... I want to find someone to love."

If Eddie's previous words felt like being gutted, these ones feel like cement. Heavy and solidifying. Trapping in the truth of Ever Unlovable Steve. He doesn't even feel heartbroken anymore. Just numb. Dead inside. He should say something encouraging. Let Eddie know that all he's wanted was for Eddie to be happy and loved. But words seem impossible, so he gives one jerky nod of his head. An understanding.

"Right," Eddie says, returning the nod before turning away, towards the door, "I'll just go now. Umm, see ya later, Harrington."

Facing the horrors of the Upside Down should feel like the scariest thing he's ever done but it doesn't. Watching Eddie walk away does. Steve should be able to hold it together long enough for Eddie to leave. He's the tough one. He can hold himself together no problem-

"Why can't you love me?"

Eddie whips back around, an expression on his face like confusion and anger mixed.

It's only then that Steve realizes he spoke. He hasn't meant to. He was going to let Eddie walk away but now his voice has been freed from the cement. His heart has shut down his brain it seems because he just keeps talking, voice flat and hollow, "why can't you love me the way I love you? What is so broken and wrong within me that no one loves me back? My parents, Nancy, now you. Why can't- I thought that we were- where did I go wrong?"

"What?" Eddie asks, and the anger is gone from his face but now he just looks horrified. Which is understandable. It's horrifying to be loved by Steve Harrington. "What did you think we were?"

Boyfriends. Together. Going steady. At the very least, dating without labels. But none of those very reasonable, normal answers come out of Steve's treacherous mouth. Because Steve can't seem to be a reasonable, normal person. He's got to be too much, too soon, too clingy. So, instead, he says, "In love."

Eddie looks like he's just received the worst news of his life. In fact, he looks a little sick. "Oh fuck. Jesus Christ. I can't- I thought- Fuck!"

Steve just nods along. He hadn't actually said I love you to Nancy that night at Tina's Halloween party, but he imagines if he had, the beginning of the bullshit conversation would have sounded much the same as Eddie does now; like anger and regret, the starts and stops. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have- if you want to go, you should go."

Eddie crosses the room back to Steve in half the steps he took when he first walked away, hands reaching to grab Steve's face between them. He speaks quickly and sounds panicked now. "No, no no no. I fucked up, misunderstood. I don't know how I got it so wrong. I don't want to go. I never did."

"What?"

"I am in love with you, sweetheart. I just- I didn't know you loved me back. I thought you didn't- that we weren't..."

"I thought we were boyfriends."

"Jesus, please let me fix this. Let me stay and make it up to you. I'll be the best fucking boyfriend you've ever had."

Steve thinks if he had any shred of self-worth he might step back, make Eddie explain himself, but as it is, he steps into Eddie's space and kisses him, hands pulling him as close as he can get. He doesn't want to think about the cruel things Eddie's said, about using each other. Maybe one day they'll have to hash that out, have that conversation, but Eddie says he loves him too, and that's all Steve's wanted.

[respectthepetty]

GMMTV 2025 - Hot Tops and One Bottom

GMMTV offered up ONE straight show, and even though I'm salty that I didn't get Midnight Museum 2 and despite the current state of the world, I have never been happier to be alive at this exact moment that I'm living in. GMMTV really cemented that it is Disney BL, and said FUCK THEM HETEROS!

As usual, I'm listing what shows I'm most excited to see from GMMTV's annual unveiling, but in order to be fair to the other shows, I will not consider one of the shows in the rankings because I am a Jaidee fan first, and a human second:

Dare You to Death

My boys are giving me ~Murder, Manipulate, Make-Out, and MAYHEM~ so I'm already seated, sat, and sitted. I've always thought Joong should play a character who was insincere and a bit crazy, and Dunk should lean into his haughtiness (emphasis on HOT), so even though all these other shows look great, they aren't JoongDunk trying to solve a murder while trying to not murder each other, and it would be unfair of me to hold that against everyone else. I was going to take whatever I was getting from them, but THIS?! Sorry, to everyone else, but y'all never stood a chance.

#1a - Memoir of Rati

Moment of honesty - Inn and Great are fine as fuck. They are already attractive to begin with, so to put them in a historical drama, of course, I'm going to eat it up. This is a serious piece about political and social tensions which I have no doubts they will carry into getting some awards for it. I was getting worried that these two weren't going to have another show together next year, but not only did GMMTV give them one of the meatier plots, the series also has Aou and Boom in it with an amazing story as well, so this was easily my top choice.

Or at least it was my top choice until . . .

#1b - Ticket to Heaven

Religious trauma aligned with Catholicism is my special brand of queer angst, so this series already has me all the way fucked up. Fourth is such a phenomenal actor and Gemini always acts his ass off, so I know they will have me in a fetal position every single episode clutching my rosary and praying for God's mercy since I'm already in my feelings about this. The heathens in the room better read up on some biblical references because if you thought I was doing too much over a cross necklace in Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo and the praying in The Warp Effect, I Saw You in My Dreams, and Marahuyo Project, block me now because that was only the tip of the religious iceberg.

#2 - Cat for Cash

Although I'm a vegetarian, I'm a Disney villain who strongly dislikes animals, yet even I was happy to see First getting advice from cats on how to make coffee and how to win over Khao. This is the FirstKhao romance we have been waiting for! It looks soft and sincere, and even though the plot involves hearing cats, First as the worst debt collector and Khao as a grieving sad boy are their most realistic characters they have ever played. The series also looks like it's going to make me cry, so thank goodness Satang showed up to make sure I would be emotional about every show GMMTV gives me next year.

#3 - That Summer

On the topic of Satang, I'm shocked that I clicked with this trailer. I was ready to write this off as a Hallmark series due to its plot about a prince with amnesia falling in love with a commoner until the trailer revealed that he doesn't have amnesia, and the commoner knows he is a prince. The trailer situated the problem will come from their class differences plus Mond is kissing a homie (in secret), and since I just asked for more series with sad wet boys on the beach, this show goes at the top for GMMTV delivering me something I didn't know I wanted but a show I definitely needed.

#4 - A Dog and a Plane

Tay and New got me by the throat in 2019 and 2024 with Dark Blue Kiss and Peaceful Property, and even when I wanted to be mad at Cherry Magic, I couldn't because these men always sell the hell out of a ship even when they shouldn't. I'm a Jaidee fan first, and a human second, but I'll throw on some polar bear and whale jammies any day to join the Polcas because Tay and New have not disappointed me once in their joint shows or individual shows. So here I am, super duper excited to see New play a GAY flight attendant (a stereotype I love to see) whose man is trying to screw Pun only for Tay to take the hush money yet still catch feelings AND FLIGHTS! Marc's there too, so it's time I was served openly gay men who are trying to join the mile-high club since it's been over a decade since I got Pedro Almodóvar's I'm So Excited.

#5 - My Romance Scammer

I support marriage equality, but I do not believe in the institution of marriage, so I'm thrilled that GMMTV decided to throw me some gay divorce the same year gay marriage was legalized! Next, I'm getting the odd ball couple of Ohm and Fluke with Fluke being a dummy who falls for the first man who is nice to him, only for Marc to think he has a great relationship with Junior, BUT IT'S ALL A SCAM! I will probably end up defending this show with my life because this is the romcom romcoN I deserve!

Side Quest - Tarot Card Series

The theme for this year's announcement was "Riding the Wave" but it should have been "Wheel of Fortune" because there were a lot of shows about destiny and changing the future, so I'm going to rank those in a quick sub-category:

1) My Magic Prophecy

This is the dynamic I want to see from Jimmy and Sea. Jimmy IS a doctor, so getting a clean-cut smarmy version of him will pair so well with muscular Sea being a jerk. I was going to make a quirky comment about how they can now see the future as a reference to Last Twilight, but I'm still salty about that show, so I'll just be happy for them and THIS show.

2) Head 2 Head

I'm excited for the Only Boo kids because I think they should've gotten the My Love Mix-Up remake since I think they do well with being complete opposites that make perfect sense being together. This is also how I found out that Surf from I Saw You in My Dream is now with GMMTV.

So although it was awkward to realize GMMTV had acquired another BL boy under my chismosa nose (am I slipping?), it's nice to see the company staying on brand as Disney BL in its attempt to capture all the Pokemon Avengers BL Boys.

3) Wu

Since I've been watching High School Frenemy through my dash, I know plenty of people will be ecstatic to see Nani and Sky play soulmates, again (because High School Fremeny is gay af!), but I'm showing up because I got the red bracelets of destiny tying the boys together!

The trailers this year were surprisingly lax on the colors, so I'm taking what I can get how I get it. Bring me the RED STRING OF FATE!

4) MU-TE-LUV

This is Club Sapan Fine with a different name so it's going to be campy and messy. But do I think GMMTV will handle fems well? No. Am I pressed about it? Also, no. Because I actually watch AND enjoy Club Sapan Fine, so if GMMTV wants to try its hand at wild wacky camp in an anthology-style series, I'm down to clown, at least for the queer episodes that is.

5) Melody of Secrets

This was originally going to be number three on my Tops List, but as the trailer continued, I got more confused. Then, Force's face blurred and it looked like he got snatched by a demon, so I got scared. Like real scared. I don't eff with los espookys, so I'll be watching this show with the lights on and my Care Bear squad to protect me.

Honorable Mentions

I watch ALL GMMTV queer shows (and even the ones that only I think are queer), so I'll still enjoy something about these shows, but they were just lacking that special razzle dazzle:

Burnout Syndrome

Director Nuchy. Gun in black lipstick. Gun being a sex worker. Off being an asshole. Thor. Poly(?). This should have been my Holy Grail, but I can't believe the show will give me a proper love conflict when OffGun are a branded pair. Also, Nuchy gave me ToddBlack, who I will NEVER be over, so even though I know she can and will give me *THE* toxic couple to root for above all other toxicitos, unless these two are about to drown each other in that bathtub and play Olympic-levels of mind games with each other, I'm reserving my excitement until it airs.

Me and Thee

A soap-opera loving mafioso. Pond in suits with slicked-back hair. Phuwin being beautiful. Santa looking delicious. Est back in his Naughty Babe assistant mode. Perth. COLORS! Just like Burnout Syndrome, on paper it looks like something I would devour, but a third of that trailer was Pond and Phuwin in a bathtub, and in my Michelle Visage voice, "stop relying on that body" even if that's the biggest reason I'll be showing up to watch.

Whale Store

Milk licked cat food off of Love's finger, and I fear this might be too lesbian for me. I don't kink shame, and I'm always down to eat a girl out go down, but cat food? Really, sis? On top of that, this felt like a JittiRain series with Love's character clearly hiding something that is going to hurt Milk's character, then the side couple was crying and making everything awkward. I support the lesbians. I support queer rights AND wrongs. I'll be repeating this even as I'm watching it.

Boys in Love

GMMTV was smart putting all the new kids in a show with Papang x Podd as the little older romance crumbs to keep us satisfied for the time being, but that's also why I'm being petty. If this is the stepping stone for Papang and Podd to be leads for GMMTV 2026, then I'll take what I can get, but I feel like Oliver Twist asking for more porridge, when I should already be getting a damn buffet!

Love You Teacher

This show almost had me in the first half. Sam's character was giving me everything. The premise was solid. Perth was an already gay man in a long-term relationship with his boyfriend. Things were going well even with the accident. Then, the show brought on the real plot --- seven-year-olds. Jesús Cristo. It was a lovely time up until then, and now, just like the cat food, I'm realizing new things about myself and my boundaries on a random Tuesday morning, and I don't like it.

Girl Rules

This is the female version of Only Friends saran wrapped in women's empowerment. No me gusta pero lo voy a ver because I support queer wrongs even when they are oh-so-very wrong.

The Love of Siam: The Musical

What. The. Fuck. But also, sign me up!

Dishonorable Mention - Only Friends 2: Dream On

I've reached new heights in my pettiness because this show is in Petty Prison before it even airs. My blog is a living record of how badly I wanted Minx Mix and Flirty Fluke in the first season of Only Friends. It was the only thing I could think about; then, I ended up hating the first season, so I counted my blessings that Minx Mix only showed up for two whole seconds and Flirty Fluke was nowhere in sight. And now this has happened. This is a lesson in "be careful what you wish for" because I have never been more upset that I finally got what I wanted. Unless the show gives Boston his cake and lets him eat it to, I'm not watching it. Not Minx Mix, Flirty Fluke, or Ohm's body could convince me to do this a second time.

[peachetteprice]

WAIT i need to say this but idk where to post it but we're all Price enjoyers here so listen up

neighbour!Price or bestfriend or coworker, or whatever, being absolutely disgusted by your boyfriend/husband for not being ''man enough'' to claim you properly. Price thinks why isn't he putting a baby in you yet? haven't you two been together for months now? he's not doing a good job at it! let Price show you and your partner how it's done.

sorry, i am just weak for traditional slightly misogynistic Price, you hear me? good day

Oh... oh dear... I fear you may be on to something, anon... I'm choosing coworker!Price, because that's the first thing that popped into my head... 🧡

Naturally, coworker!Price studies you over a three-month period after the wedding, pressing his stomach against yours as he goes to hug you in farewell for the weekend, as all male coworkers do, such as he's reasoned for the past two years, analysing how your stomach never once bulges and pushes him away from the weight of a bain, despite the ring on your finger having been there for double that amount of time.

When the office Christmas party comes around, it's a secret-santa sort of affair. There's one final gift under the tree in the foyer. It's small, neatly wrapped, placated with a bow and a tag with the words 'from your secret santa' in luxurious cursive. It seems a thoughtful gift for anyone, and you haven't had yours yet - it's been two hours, and you just want to go home so you can shower and determine whether your husband's cock needs caring for - so, when your boss pinches it from the ground and plops it in your lap, it's a momentous occasion.

Sacrificing its beauty for curiosity, you rip open the wrapping paper to reveal a box, a cardboard one, and inside the box... one pink rattle with a cotton bunny tailing the end of it. It would have made a fine gift for an expectant mother, like the receptionist, Emma, for example, except that you're not pregnant, and you voice exactly that to whichever stranger in the cohort was responsible for the gift, expecting to hear a hushed giggle from Ian, sodomised Ian, the creep, who's always ogling the fold in your cleavage whenever you enter the breakroom.

A voice pipes up. It's not Ian's.

"You're not?" It says.

John says, instead of saying 'that bastard', like he wants to.

"No. But... I suppose if I'm ever thinking of having kids anytime soon, I'll... I'll hold onto it." And mutter a very sarcastic 'thank you, Ian,' under your breath.

Which John hears. And it angers him.

Without you even knowing, after everyone leaves the office, he's tagging you on the motorway home, hands gripping the steering wheel hard enough to wrench it from its socket with thoughts of running you off it, careening you into the barrier and heroically coming to your rescue, using the ruse of having just popped to the shops before home, before sweet-talking you like that bastard never did, bending you over the bonnet and stuffing a baby inside you like a true man should with his darling wife, cock fat with semen and weeping cum into that tight, velvet cunt of yours, too cock-drunk to even speak, drooling onto the metal plane of the front of your car as he cements your marriage with a baby, a chubby, healthy one, born from his cum and his cum only.

But you depart from the motorway via the next junction to stop for petrol, and he's too enraptured by the thoughts of fatherhood that he continues straight, right hand in his underwear, eyes dazed as he bursts his load, pretending its you and not his boxers to which he's gifting his precious cum.

| Masterlist |

[junovae]

can you write about the sexy fish man (you know the one)

why yes of course i know which sexy fish man you're talking about!

soft hits, hard truths

sebastian solace x reader ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ slight nsfw

artwork: artwork is NOT mine. art is by @grub-hut on tumblr. go check out their work. sebastian mf solace, everyone

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

summary: after a misunderstanding, sebastian refuses to let you go to bed angry with him. determined to make amends, he begrudgingly starts a pillow flight.

cw: sebastian solace x reader, fluff-ish, suggestive themes of intimacy (MDNI), sebastian is bad at comforting, he tries anyways, you've known him for a few weeks now, a sort of romantic relationship is already established between you two, his shop has a shower and spare mattress in the back, thank goodness he had soap and pajamas, amends are made if you know what i mean

wc: 916

a.n: in honor of beating pressure and sacrificing my posture in order to do it, cheers.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

water droplets fall onto the cement floor as you wring the rest of your wet hair dry. fortunately, sebastian solace had allowed you to stay in his shop for the rest of the night after a day of running from the monsters of the hadal blacksite. unfortunately, you had just found out that he was the primary reason you were being chased by said monsters in the first place.

you walk out of the barely functioning restroom into a cozy little cubby-space just behind his shop. sebastian watched you dry the rest of your hair as you walked towards a broken mirror and started combing through it with your fingers. fuck, he thought to himself. he so badly wanted to be the one to brush the rest of your hair just so you didn't have to lift a finger. but of course he wasn’t going to say that out loud.

"will you talk to me?" he mumbled under his breath, making his way towards you. you eye him from the mirror but continue doing what you're doing. you feel his presence behind you and sure enough, you watch him lean down and rest his forehead against your shoulders.

you smelled like vanilla. you smelled like the vanilla he used to smell during the winter holidays and it was driving him insane. "i'm sorry, okay?" he whispers. now this caught your attention. "did the sebastian solace just say the words 'i'm sorry' to me?" you turn around and walk towards the makeshift bed. he follows you. "i don’t believe it.” a sigh escapes your lips, plopping down onto the mattress and covering yourself with the blanket. you turn away from him.

“i didn’t mean for things to turn out this way- well, okay i did, but i didn’t expect meeting you midway through my plans.” sebastian scratches the back of his neck, staring at your figure. “fishbait, if you hadn’t crawled through the vents and into my shop, i wouldn’t care who gets eaten by those monsters. but you did, and now it sucks seeing you get hurt because now i…”

he trailed off, his voice catching. shit, this was hard. years of solitude and roaming the dreadful cold hallways of his captors’ prison had hardened his heart. he didn’t expect it to happen, but your presence and excessive bantering had brought back an excitement in him (though he would always mask it off with annoyance). all sebastian knew was that even though life sucked, seeing you made it suck less. he couldn’t take it anymore. he needed to hear your voice again. the void of silence between the two of you was starting to create an atmosphere of distance. he couldn't care less if the world hated him, he hated it back. but there was no way in hell he would allow you to look at him with such loathing. panic settling in him, sebastian impulsively does something that catches you off-guard. he grabs the nearest soft pillow and throws it in your direction. it hits your face.

you quickly turn around and sit up to shoot him a sharp glare, pillow now in hand. “are you serious?” you seethe.

“i’m dead serious,” he said, grabbing another pillow. “you’re mad at me? fine. but you’re not shutting me out.” before you could react, he throws a second pillow. this time, it lands in your lap.

he notices a flicker of something crossing your face - anger, disbelief, and… maybe a hint of amusement.

“big mistake,” you shoot him a sly smile.

you launch the pillow in his direction and suddenly, there was war. more pillows flew, tension unraveling with each hit. the both of you were laughing now, dodging attacks and running around the small room. it wasn’t fair that he was larger than you in size but you could make do. and plus, he was extra careful in making sure not to hit you too hard. and here in this moment, seeing another side of him, you realize that you could never stay mad at sebastian solace for too long.

tired from the fight, you trip onto the mattress and fall backwards. he follows suit and lands on top of you, your faces inches apart, panting and out of breath. he supports himself with one arm as he gazes at you with an unreadable expression. “do you forgive me?” he whispers, breathless. the room was a mess, but your silence had been broken.

you plant a soft kiss on his forehead. it was truly unfortunate that the both of you were placed in this prison against your wills, but you knew that he would never intentionally hurt you. “i forgive you.”

oh fuck, he melted. impulsively, he slides one of his hands behind your back and pulls you closer to him, taking your mouth in his, kissing you fervently. your arms tighten around his neck, kissing him deeper, soft moans and grunts replacing the silence. in a heated frenzy, you guide one of his hands downwards. he grumbles as he lifts your shirt up, trailing wet kisses down your stomach.

you smile, feeling the warmth of his mouth. “to make up for you nearly killing me, does this mean i get a discount at your shop tomorrow?”

he laughed, a warm, deep and genuine sound that softened the space between you. “i’d give you a discount every day for free, fishbait… but this,” he whispers sliding down your pajamas, “this is just a huge bonus.”

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

[1d1195]

Ding - Round 6

Read Ding here | ~6.3k words

Warnings: some smut 18+ only, oral, fingering, cockwarming if you squint; angst, car accident, trauma dumping, sucky parental figure. Please read with caution. You might also see one of my cliffhangers.

From me: I feel like the beginning is messy to read--almost like it's out of nowhere? But it's pretty intentional, tbh. I hope it doesn't detract from the story. Hope you like it 💕

Summary: Cupcake and Harry are busy. Harry has his big fight. Cupcake was right about throwing her life out of balance by adding in a boyfriend. They miss each other. They don't know how to deal with that either. At least not while they're apart.

It was not Harry’s fault. Even though he thought it was.

But to be fair, it wasn’t her fault either. Even if she felt it was.

Harry grew into adulthood knowing he was stubborn. Everyone in his life told him so. It was obvious. He didn’t get to be an undefeated champion without grit. His entire gym was named as a near synonym of the word. But she continued to surprise him, and it was clear that he had very much met his match—she was competing for his crown of stubbornness. If Harry wasn’t so mad about his current state, he might even acknowledge that she was winning.

At first everything was new and completely fine. He was enamored with her. Finally she was all his. He took her on a real date—several real, authentic dates. He danced around with her in the bakery kitchen. Brought her food for movie nights in her apartment. (He also licked her when the movie lost his attention, and she looked too good to be sitting there without his head between her legs.) He even brought her bouquets of flowers simply because it was Monday.

She stayed at his place, wrapped close to him. It was as if they had done it for years. When he woke up early for a run, she joined him, assuring him to go ahead and circle back for her since he ran way better and faster than she did. But he enjoyed the way she massaged his muscles in the shower most. (The way she wrapped her hand around his dick most of all.) She made him breakfast before they left for work and Harry thought if the bakery wasn’t to her liking she could open a breakfast place as a second choice.

She chatted with Sarah while he worked out and trained. Without any kind of asking, she helped clean equipment when he needed to focus more on training. She organized his desk in his office because it was a disaster and it stressed her out. Whenever she cleaned, she hummed and didn’t notice. It made Harry fall deeper in love with her. Every moment he was with her was magical.

Until she was exhausted.

He missed her. For the first time in his life, he had felt completely in love with someone. The way he wanted to be in love. He finally had that. They were inseparable. Nights spent cocooned under Harry’s covers. His finger tracing her features in the dark. “So pretty,” he murmured.

“You can’t even see me,” she whispered.

“S’how I know you’re so pretty. Can feel it.”

So not having that for two weeks was like trying to swim through cement.

She had what could only be called a complete meltdown. Frosting and cupcakes everywhere. She was overwhelmed—said yes to too many functions in a row and spread herself too thin. She was frustrated with Harry and his time training and just missed him.

But she didn’t say it.

Because Harry was frustrated too. He tried to help her, but she didn’t let him in. There was the whole not knowing her family—even though she had effectively wormed her way into Mum and Gemma’s heart. Though he wasn’t surprised in the slightest; honestly, he thought his niece liked her more than Harry and she had only met her twice.

So, when she exploded, for lack of a better word, it was magnificent. It was nothing he had ever seen before. The exhaustion in her eyes, the worry on her face, the tears that spilled down her cheeks. Harry was sick with worry and frustration just to hear her cry but was nearly impressed. The cupcakes overturned on the floor were nothing in comparison to the way she cried.

“Cupcake, you are overreact—”

“Do not finish that sentence,” she hissed at him. That was entirely on him. Gem had taught him better than to tell a woman she was overreacting.

“Lemme take something off your plate, kitten,” he tried instead. He was ignoring her frustrated tears even though he wanted to brush them away. “Tell me what’s going on,” he figured it had something to do with her dad because she kept checking her phone and she hadn’t mentioned going to see him in over a week. But her car was overdue for an oil change, and she didn’t want to drive it that far but hadn’t a moment to deal with it. She also complained about something regarding her eyebrows, but Harry didn’t fully understand it because quite honestly, he had never thought about her eyebrows.

But if it meant caring for herself, he wished he pushed further.

Their schedules hadn’t lined up in two weeks. No more than an hour or two alone. She saw him plenty while she chatted with Sarah at the gym while he trained or worked. He and Maeve had started a competition of who could sprinkle the most cupcakes in fifteen minutes (Harry was willing to admit defeat once in his life—he would never beat Maeve) even though she didn’t like that they were having fun when she was stressed.

They hadn’t practiced her self-defense moves in nearly a month.

So, it felt like her fault.

But what she hadn’t anticipated was Harry’s sour attitude reflecting right back at her. Harry didn’t take her frustration lying down. He snapped back at her which felt so heinous to do but he was grumpy.

But he was tired of arguing with her. Tired of feeling frustrated, begging her to let him in when it was obvious she didn’t want to. So, for the first time in his life, he stopped fighting.

It pained him to no end. He could see in her eyes that she was exhausted. It hurt him so badly. Each time he said, “Whatever, Cupcake,” he felt like the worst boyfriend in the world for not taking her frustration away. But she wouldn’t let him in. She wouldn’t let him take away her frustration. It was like she wanted to argue with him. It was entirely unfair, but she was mad about his indifference. It didn’t make any sense for her to be mad when she had just as much blame to take for his sour mood.

“Why don’t you just go home?” She suggested. Bitterness coated every word.

“Yeah?” Harry looked up at her from his phone, his eyes narrowed. She could see his muscles tense like they were in the ring, and she was aiming for his head. “Jus’ leave?” He repeated.

“Obviously you don’t want to be here,” she muttered.

He slid back from the table, the chair scraping against the floor with a screech that made her teeth hurt. “No, cupcake,” he shook his head and made his way for the door. She hated itwhen he said the sweet name like that. She knew it wasn’t her nickname when he said it. It wasn’t filled with the love he liked. It was sarcastic. Mean. It hurt her more than an actual punch would have, she was sure. “You don’t want me here,” his voice was low. She closed her eyes, trying to keep as calm as possible. It was hard because she was anything but calm. But she said nothing. “You don’t want me in your life,” he snapped finally letting all the emotion out that had been building over the last week. “You keep things from me. You build up walls that I can’t break down. Every time I get to the top y’add another layer of bricks.”

She stayed silent.

“Go on, cupcake. Say m’wrong,” he challenged. “Say y’let me in.”

But both knew she couldn’t say it.

It was eerily quiet in the kitchen. The pinch of Harry’s brow made her sad. She wanted to smooth it out with a kiss. “Tell me to stay,” he whispered quietly.

But she couldn’t say that either.

“Yeah,” he sighed and turned. “S’what I thought.”

*

Maeve wondered if her best friend was going to have a heart attack a lot during her time at A Pinch of Sprinkles. The opening in town nearly sent her to the ER. She was running on fumes at the time. Christmas always made her anxious. Anytime they were chosen for a wedding also had Maeve worrying about her medical history. But in comparison, those were nothing. If Maeve had known what not talking to Harry would do to her, she would have told her that Christmas was a tropical vacation.

Harry stopped coming to see her.

“Did...” she swallowed, nervous to infuriate her best friend further but out of care for her, she had to know. “Is... Harry still...”

She glared at the cupcakes she was frosting, squeezing the icing bag a little too tightly. “I don’t know,” she grumbled. She hadn’t gotten a text from him nor seen him in a week after she told him to leave.

Maeve’s heart cracked. “Babe,” Maeve murmured softly.  “He... he adores you... what happened?”

She shook her head unwilling to go over it again. The nights were filled with tear-soaked pillowcases, and she was exhausted from stress and crying. “I just can’t be in a relationship. It’s too much.”

Of course.

Maeve was sick of her best friend’s loneliness. “That is bullshit,” Maeve rolled her eyes. “Did you push him away?”

“Maeve, shut the fuck—”

“Oh, good luck pushing me away, babe. No,” she shook her head and grabbed the bag of frosting from her hands and threw it at the sink to gain her attention.

“I was wor—”

Maeve ignored her words and continued on with her own. “I might not be a boxer, but I can take a punch or two all the same. You pushed him away. Now you’re sulking. You’ve been punishing yourself for so long because you think you don’t deserve to be happy. Harry did nothing but love you and try to help you and you wouldn’t let him—”

“I am going to fire you,” she muttered bitterly. Harry never said he loved her anyway. How could he love her after all that? How could he love her if he didn’t even know the truth?

Maeve continued anyway, immune to her threat because she knew that wasn’t true at all. “You deserve to be happy, and Harry made you happy. That scares you,” she finished.

Angry tears filled her eyes and she ground her teeth together.

“You’re not going to say anything?”

Maeve was her best friend and knew more about her and her family than anyone. “I don’t get happy things.”

“But you do. You have me, number one,” she snorted, fortunately. The tension eased just the slightest bit. “You have this bakery. And more importantly, you have a guy that is so crazy about you, he has been calling me every night to make sure you’re home safe and sound.” Her heart fluttered. She didn’t know that.

“Every time I love someone, they go away,” she whispered.

Maeve felt nothing but sympathy for her sweet friend. “You have to give Harry a chance. You have to tell him why you’re doing this. I have a good feeling about him,” Maeve reminded her. For the first time in a week, she felt her body untense.

“He calls you?” She asked.

“Every night.”

She bit the inside of her lip. “That’s nice,” she whispered.

Maeve nodded. “Really nice,” she agreed. “Plus, he’s like super hot. Did you even sleep with him yet?” She blushed at her words and reached for a new frosting bag out of the fridge. “You bitch! You didn’t tell me?!” Maeve screeched. She smacked her arm repeatedly. “Tell me everything! When did you do it? Where did you do it? Harry must have a massive dick, right? I feel like he’s—”

“Maeve,” she laughed. The first time in a week. It felt good to laugh. “I...”

“No, you have to spill. Something.”

Her cheeks were flaming. “I think I’m addicted to it,” she whispered.

“Thank. God.”

*

Harry refused to go back to the bakery for the rest of the week uninvited. His workout sessions were horrific. Louis yelled at him for missing his marks and he felt everything about his footwork was sloppy. The way she ignored him made him feel terrible. But naturally, he didn’t help either. He hadn’t texted her in over a week.

But it didn’t stop Harry from waking up to a call at eleven thirty at night.

“What?” He grumbled. He didn’t want to fight. He was tired of arguing with her and was tired of being frustrated. She would have to do the work if she was going to try and fix this when he needed sleep.

The sound of her shaky breath snapped his eyes open. “Can you come get me?” She croaked.

That did him in within seconds. The vulnerability in her voice. “Cupcake, s’matter?” He was awake instantly. It wasn’t sarcastic. It was her name. The one he used that made her feel adored. It was sweet and made her feel better almost as if he was already at the bakery. He quickly slid into trainers that he didn’t even untie; the back of the heel was smushed down and uncomfortable against his foot, but it didn’t matter. Her sniffling made him insane with worry. It was like the last few weeks hadn’t happened. “Kitten, talk to me,” he ordered. His heart racing and his fear taking over. He wasn’t sure he locked his door, and he was lucky he even remembered to grab his car keys before he descended the stairs to the parking lot.

“I’m alright,” she promised, tears filling most of her voice.

“Y’don’t sound alright.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated.

“Cupcake, I swear t’God,” he threw his car into drive before it was fully turned on.

“I just miss you. I’m sad and scared. Okay? I’m physically fine, but I’m a mess. I want you here,” her voice wobbled, and Harry felt like he was breaking. “Please,” she sniffled.

Harry felt crushing relief and he watched the needle on Clay’s speedometer lower from a felony charge to a healthy speeding ticket.  “M’five minutes away, kitten. Stay put.”

“Okay,” her voice was quiet, sad but Harry didn’t mind.

“You’re okay?” He repeated. She nodded. He couldn’t see that though. “Cupcake?”

“I’m okay,” she promised, it was punctuated by a sniffle.

His heart felt so broken feeling the anguish in her voice. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered to the phone. “I wasn’t nice,” he mumbled.

“It’s hard,” she whispered. The remainder of his drive was silent. Just her sniffles and the hum of his tires on the road to accompany the small miles between them. Harry sprinted to her bakery door. She was there pacing the front and unlocked it as he approached. Harry dropped his phone right inside the entryway, the bell signaling his arrival, finally.

Within one second of crossing the threshold, she was in his arms. The door only clicked shut once he was around her. His face buried in her hair, his arms tightening around her like he was trying to keep her afloat in the middle of the ocean. “M’here,” he hummed. “M’here, Cupcake,” he promised. She squeezed her eyes shut, her heart finally slowing after so much anxiety had plagued her over the last couple of weeks.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he assured her. “S’okay.”

“It’s so hard,” she repeated, herself from the phone call. Harry wished they were home. Even though it was late and private Harry wanted the comfort of her bed or his sofa to let her fall apart. The bakery was warm, but he wanted pillows for her head and blankets for her body to comfort her while she whispered secrets to him.

“I know, kitten. I know s’hard. But I... I adore you, Cupcake. Don’t y’know that? What do y’think all this is between us? I want t’meet your dad. He’s obviously a huge part of your life... and keeping secrets from me? S’not fair.”

“I know it’s not fair.”

“You know everything ‘bout me. S’like I don’t get t’know anything ‘bout you. Do y’think I’m suddenly not going to like you? I assure you that’s never going t’happen.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know what I did.”

“What could you possibly have done? You’re made of sugar, Cupcake. You have to let me in. I told you everything. You know my family. You know my friends. You know why I bought Driven and why I have been fighting since I was ten years old. You have kept me out of everything. I don’t even know why you opened A Pinch of Sprinkles. I know you have a dad. You never talk about your mom. I don’t know about your childhood best friend or your favorite pet. There are these walls you keep up and I don’t know why, and I don’t know how to break them down.”

“You don’t eat cupcakes when you’re sad,” her jaw shakes as she pulls from him. The space between them feels worse than the last few weeks without her combined. It’s cold and lonely. More so than not speaking to her. More so than not sleeping beside her. His heart hurt instantly. But not as much as it hurt to watch her lower lip move almost independently of the rest of her face.

“Cupcake, what does that have t’do—”

But before he could finish his thought Harry could see it did have to do with what he just asked about. The way her eyes were shining with tears. It felt like someone clipped his vocal cords. All words escaped him, and he just stared at her as she continued. “You eat them at baby showers, weddings, and at birthday parties,” she listed. Harry stayed quiet. “You don’t eat them when your mom leaves when you’re six years old because it’s too much to be a mom,” her voice was so broken as she spoke. Harry felt her pain in the air. Like needles stabbing every inch of his exposed skin. It seemed impossible that someone wouldn’t want her. To willingly choose to leave her. Her mum no less. She was looking at her hands like they were going to give her the answer to a test she forgot to study for. “You don’t eat them at funerals or when you break your arm,” she continued. Harry wondered who had died and which arm she had broken and how. “You eat them when you get a good grade on your math test or on an anniversary.” Harry’s heart was breaking. He always wondered about the things she kept hidden in her personal life and she laid it out right there for him. In the one place that she probably loved more than anywhere else on earth. “You don’t eat them when you’re sick or sad. They’re for when you’re happy. You can’t be sad while eating sprinkles.”

It clicked effortlessly. Obviously. “A pinch of sprinkles,” he murmured softly. He crossed the space that separated them. Immediately, he cupped her cheeks in his hands, they felt cool compared to the warmth that emanated from her skin. Hot, frustrated tears started to spill over. He swiped at them with his thumbs below her eyes in tandem. He caught as many as he could but there was an overwhelming number of teardrops. It was impossible for him to keep them all from falling in rivers down her face.

She nodded. Her tears continued to spill over, rolling down her cheeks and sliding down his thumbs as he tried to stop them. “A pinch of sprinkles,” she repeated softly. She inhaled sharply. Turning against his hands holding her in place. A new wave of anguish crossed her face that Harry didn’t know could exist on someone’s face—especially not her perfect features. All the art museums he went to in university for his art history requirement made sense. The distortion of features on someone so beautiful was right before him. He understood. “You don’t eat cupcakes when your dad is in a car accident and becomes paralyzed from the neck down because you were too tired to drive even though you were the one that wanted to go to the drive-in and the only thing you can do is bring him to an entirely new town with a place to help him the way he deserves because it’s never going to be enough to thank him or repay him or—” the words were cut off by sobs that she could no longer control. Her heart was breaking right in front of him.

Harry knew how to fight. He knew how to stand with poise and grace that no one would expect a boxer to have. He knew how to throw punches that could knock a grown man out in one hit. The correct form to kick was ingrained in his mind from when he was ten years old.

Harry didn’t know how to begin to fight her sadness.

“Cupcake,” he whispered. She covered her mouth and the noise that came out of her body was so sad, so broken. Harry wondered how she could still be standing. Harry always thought he was pretty tough. That stubborn nature of his thought he was one of the toughest people in a room.

But he wasn’t. Not even close.

The pretty, sweet girl who was constantly covered in sugar and frosting—she was the strongest person he knew.

He couldn’t begin to imagine what she went through—how she still coped with it. It was a miracle she got in a car ever again. She was braver than he ever was or could be. “And he doesn’t hate me,” she whispered through her sobs. “My mom left him because of me. He is in a wheelchair and unable to live a normal life because of me.”

“Kitten,” he warned worried she would work herself up too much beyond his ability to help her. Harry was an idiot for making her feel this. He couldn’t leave well enough alone. If he only knew...

“Why doesn’t he just hate me?” She whimpered and Harry finally pulled her into his embrace. Her tears immediately soaked his shirt. She got snot all over him and Harry just kept her close to him he let her cry for longer than he ever wanted her to, but it felt good to hold her again. Regardless of the pain.

“How could anyone hate you, Cupcake?" he asked after a minute.

“I hate me,” she whispered. The question was rhetorical, but she responded anyway.

He kissed the top of her head. “If I had a kid like you... S’not anything I wouldn’t do for them. Your dad doesn’t regret that.”

“Of course he does,” she sniffled. “I couldn’t even take care of him.”

“It wasn’t your job, Cupcake.”

“But it was my faul—”

“Take me t’meet him,” he interrupted.

She blinked, confused. “What?”

“Take me to meet him. Y’go every week, yeah? Take me,” he asked. She felt so vulnerable. Her heart felt heavy.

“Meet him?” She whispered. Harry didn’t even comment that she repeated him again.

He nodded. “He saved your life for me, Cupcake. M’sure of it. S’least I could do t’meet him.”

Her heart felt something dangerously close to hope enveloping it. It was too good to be true. Her dream job, a cute apartment, a best friend, and the perfect guy. “You don’t hate me?”

He scoffed and buried his face in her neck. He missed her smell—vanilla and sugar (although he wasn’t sure that was truly her natural scent but merely from spending so much time in the kitchen). He missed her voice and the warmth he felt just holding her in his arms. “Christ, Kitten. Course not.”

“But I was so... awful. And I... I ruined his life. I'm cursed or something. I'll... I'll ruin your life too.”

"Sweetheart," he cooed. "Y'don't really believe that, do you?"

"I'm not a good luck charm, Harry."

"You are, Cupcake. You are the luckiest thing s'ever happened to me."

She looked at him miserably. "I've done nothing but made your life confusing and hell."

He pulled back a little so he could get a clearer look at her face. He smiled. The first genuine smile he felt in a week. “I can take a punch every now and again,” he promised. “Think Louis would say I could be knocked down a peg or two every once in a while,” he winked.

It wasn’t fixed. But she looked slightly less broken. She felt a little more whole. Harry’s smile did wonders for her.

*

The next day, Harry stood in the hall outside of the dining room. Other residents were in various activities, but her dad sat in his chair, slumped slightly, and he smiled at her entrance.

“Dad,” she said softly sitting across from him.

“Busy week you had it seems,” he smiled.

She blushed. “I know. I’m so sorry. I should have called. It was one thing after another—it’s no excuse I should have been here, and I was—”

“Honey,” he shook his head slightly, one of the few movements he retained from the crash. “You’re living a life. It’s okay.”

Her heart broke to see him in his chair. Unable to live the same kind of life.

“I... brought... something.”

“Something or someone?”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t see a cupcake box, so this must trouble,” he joked, smiling brightly.

“Harry is here. He wanted to meet you,” she explained.

“He wanted to? What about you?” He asked. She looked at him nervously. Her eyes said everything she didn’t say out loud. Her dad continued to smile. “Well, it’s about time, honey.”

She rolled her eyes and waved him over. Harry hurried, stepping right beside his wheelchair. Without hesitating, he grabbed her dad’s limp hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you sir,” he said shaking it firmly with both hands. When the handshake was through, Harry ever so gently placed his hand back on the arm rest of his chair.

Her dad smirked and winked at the sweet girl. “I’d offer you my seat, Harry, but I’m afraid I’m stuck in it.”

“Jesus Christ,” she covered her hand over her eyes.

Harry chuckled, taking the seat on the side of the table between them. “No problem, sir,” he assured him, taking the joke in stride. Adoration for them both squeezed around her heart. “Cupcake, do y’mind getting us some water?” She blinked in surprise. Normally, Harry wouldn’t let her lift a finger.

“Oh... um... sure,” she said and hurried off to find a nurse to help.

“Cupcake?” Her dad repeated.

“Yes, sir. She’s quite sweet like one,” he smiled gently. Her dad stared Harry down for a moment. Not maliciously. Just watching. Waiting. If they were in the ring, they would have been eyeing one another waiting for someone to make a move.

Her dad made the first one. “She said you wanted to meet me.”

Harry nodded. “I adore your daughter. With everything in me. M’going t’protect her every moment of every day. I wanted you t’hear that from me. I wanted you t’know that.”

“She can be a little feisty sometimes,” he warned, but the smile didn’t leave his face.

“M’aware,” he didn’t want to tell him about their stalemate over the last few weeks. That didn’t matter anymore and it wouldn't paint either of them in a good light.

“She said you have a big match coming up.”

He nodded. “Yes, sir. Biggest one of m’career.”

“Think you’ll win?” He asked.

Harry was confident. But he didn’t like to let his confidence overinflate his chances or make himself sound presumptuous. Anything could happen. But he was going to try his hardest and best. That would be good enough for him. “I believe so. I’ve worked hard for this. I want it more than most anything,” he promised.

“Most?” Just like his daughter, he caught the key word.

“Most,” he repeated. There was a significant pause as Harry considered his next thoughts. The words he didn’t want to explain but what he wanted her dad to know anyway. “Did she tell you about Jack?” Harry asked quietly.

The name didn’t ring a bell. He shook his head. “No. She doesn’t always tell me everything.”

Harry smiled sadly. “At least she’s consistent,” he murmured. “My manager Louis and I teach self-defense classes... she joined one several months ago,” he let another pause tell her dad the words he didn’t want to say. The story he probably shouldn’t be telling him in the first place. “M’confident she could protect herself. But m’hoping she won’t ever have to. M’going t’keep her safe,” he assured him. “I promise.”

He could only imagine the wave of emotions that took over his brain. Harry obviously wasn’t a father, but he didn’t need to be one to know he would murder someone for his daughter. Paralysis or not. “And you?” He asked quietly. Digesting the bit of information Harry alluded to.

“Me?” Harry repeated.

“Are you going to hurt her?”

“Never,” he assured him. “I’d... I’d take a bullet for her,” he promised.

“Speaking from experience, that might hurt her more than just letting her take the bullet,” he chuckled and winked. Harry snorted but nodded.

“Understood.”

She returned with three glasses of water and an extra long straw for her father. “You guys sharing war stories about me?”

“I was jus’ ‘bout t’tell him how you’re trying t���fatten me up with raspberry lemon filling,” Harry stood and held her chair out for her to sit.

“You are more than capable of saying no to cupcakes, Harry.”

“I beg to differ, honey. It’s a sin to say no to them,” her dad smiled. “A sin to say no to you,” he winked again.

*

Their reunion in Harry’s home was carnal to say the least. Harry missed being inside her. He wanted to fall asleep with her wrapped around his dick. Harry had spent many years of his teens taking care of his own sexual needs and yet somehow the weeks apart from her were worse than all those years combined.

Perhaps it was the noises she made. Begging Harry for a release. Her body craved his. It felt like a part of her had been missing for the duration of their silly stalemate. It may have only been a few weeks, but it was a few weeks without orgasms made possible by Harry’s mouth, fingers, and dick.

“I wanna stay inside you the rest of m’life,” he moaned into her ear in the middle of the night. They would both be tired in the morning. Louis would probably hate her (even though Harry assured her that was impossible) but it was worth it.

*

They started going over her self-defense moves again in between dinner and TV shows. Harry was encouraging. Making sure she followed the right move and not her instinct. Correcting her form and making sure she knew he would always be there for her. She told him more secrets that made Harry feel so whole.

She watched him train. Harry walked her to her car after falling asleep on the table in the bakery kitchen. They hadn’t spent a night apart since Harry met her dad. They fell asleep watching a movie or show nearly every night. Harry would simply lift her in his arms and carry her to the bedroom. She would coax him out of his slumber and snuggle up to him as they made it to a more comfortable position in bed.

That was the case one week prior to Harry’s big fight.

He had fallen asleep in her lap (after he had lazily brought her to orgasm with nothing more than stroking his finger messily around her clit. Simply because he could and thought her sleep shorts looked lonely without his hand inside them). Now he had an arm wrapped around her waist, face nuzzled against her T-shirt. “I love you, Cupcake,” he mumbled sleepily. She ignored it. Thought that maybe he was asleep because surely someone so big and strong—someone so scary yet boyish—couldn’t love her after all she put him through. No matter how good her mouth was on his dick. “Hear me, kitten?” He asked rolling to look up at her.

She smiled, blushing. “I heard you, thought you were sleeping.”

“Well, I love you in m’sleep, too,” he turned again, rubbing his nose against her shirt. She giggled, rubbing her fingers through his hair and massaging scalp. She was so enamored and so surprised she felt speechless. “So you’re supposed t’say it back,” he turned and looked up at her. “Unless...y’don’t feel the same way...or I said it too soon or something and it’s—”

“Oh no way,” she assured him. “I love you very much,” she laughed and brought her face down to his and kissed him.

*

The morning of his fight, they woke up early. Harry headed into the shower, and she followed right behind him. With a sleepy smile he enjoyed the feel of her mouth on him as he always did, gripping her hair in his hands while he thought about how a $100,000 would change his life and allow him to spoil her.

But after a healthy breakfast (and another blowjob from beneath the table while he ate because she simply thought he deserved a relaxed morning) there was no use denying it.

Harry was grumpy.

By the time they got to Driven, he snapped at her a few times (more than a few times) and she took it like a champ. In fact, she was planning on ignoring it entirely. It wasn’t his fault. Stress was natural on a day like today. His warmup wasn’t supposed to be heavy the day of a massive fight like this even though he tested Louis’ patience to no end.

“Again,” he snarled at Louis. Louis looked at her for support.

“Baby, you need—”

“I said, again. I know what m’doing,” he growled ignoring her.

Louis let him have one more round of practice. But it was Louis’ comments on his attitude that he found her around lunch time in his office setting up a light lunch from one of his favorite restaurants nearby. Tail between his legs. “M’sorry I snapped, kitten. S’jus’ the nerves.”

She smiled. “I know, baby. It’s okay.”

“S’not okay, though.”

She shook her head grinning at him. “I’ll yet at you later when you eat the frosting off my cupcakes.”

He nodded. “M’gonna hold you to that,” he promised.

“I know it’s silly to say. But don’t be nervous. You’re going to win, I can feel it,” she assured him and draped herself in his lap while he ate his carrot sticks.

“Course. M’good luck charm will be there,” he brushed his finger on her cheek.

“You know, I hate when you get hit. It's been my least favorite part of this whole experience.”

He shrugged. “So, I won’t get hit,” he smiled knowingly.

She laughed. “I don’t think I’m much of a good luck charm when you were already undefeated when I met you,” she reminded him.

He felt everything soften in him. The tenseness, the anger, and the frustration all disappeared. “Oh, kitten,” he shook his head. “You have been m’good luck charm for so much more than boxing matches.”

*

Louis was ready to explode with anger. Part of her wondered if he had ever followed through on his threats of getting in the ring to throw punches at Harry. She thought it might be cathartic for him. Before she can blink, the introductions are over. The sound of the bell chimes through the arena room.

Ding

Round one was over and she was holding her breath so she seriously considered the idea that she had blacked out and missed it. But Niall had murmured to her that he didn’t get hit once and she felt so proud, so excited. The kind of money Harry was going to win would do incredible things for his life. Maybe in addition to holding her breath, she had squeezed her eyes shut and turned to Niall.

His opponent was big, strong. He wasn't facing Harry because he wasn't good. It terrified to think the kind of damage an opponent like him could do to him.

“Looks like he forgot extra towels,” Niall murmured to her bringing her back to reality. She could see the irritation in Louis’ eyes and Harry holding his hands up with the gloves. How did y’expect me t’grab them? She could imagine him grumbling back only further irritating Harry. There was enough for the time being but she knew they would go through a stack of them in no time at all.

“I’ll get them,” she offered standing waving at him in some silent sign language neither discussed but Louis knew what it meant. He looked the slightest bit more relaxed by her standing. Part of her thought for the first time in their relationship he didn’t hate her. Even though Harry assured her repeatedly that he didn't. (He was utterly kind to her throughout the self-defense classes and when Harry reminded her of such, she alluded to the fact that she paid for that kindness.)

“Cupcake, you’re the best,” Niall squeezed the back of her arm as he stayed put. “Want me to come with you?” He asked.

“No, I got it,” she smiled. “I’m going to use the bathroom and hit the concession stand too. So, if I’m not back at the end of the next round I didn’t fall in the laundry basket,” she promised. Niall chuckled and waved her off.

After going to the bathroom and making her way back to the locker room, flashing her badge around her neck, she found the extra towels laid out. The noise was deafening—even from inside the locker room. She grabbed an armful's worth and made her way toward the entrance to the arena.

When she turned around, the last person she ever thought she’d see was waiting just inside the door. The volume behind him hadn’t changed. But she swore in that moment, the crowd, the bell, the thudding of her heart, everything got louder.

She knew he was trying to intimidate her just by standing there. There wasn’t a single person around. Everyone was in that arena. Her legs felt like lead, but she walked forward anyway. The towels in her arms provided extra space between them as she started to walk right past him. “Excuse me,” she muttered.

He’s just trying to intimidate me. She repeated to herself.

“Round two is about to begin!” She heard announced from behind the door followed by a delighted cheer.

It was nothing.

Jack was just trying to scare her. She hadn't done anything wrong.

All she needed to do was walk by him confidently. Then she would watch Harry win life-changing money. She was home free. Leaning into the door, the metal bar squeaking as it released the hold on the frame to let her through to the main room.

But at the last second, the towels fell from her arm in a heap as he grabbed her arm and yanked her away from the door. “I don’t think so.”

Round two was starting.

Ding.

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[kaiserposting]

Michael Kaiser — Stench

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 9k TYPE: Angst, Childhood friends, Making up, occasionally funny WARNING(S): Poverty, implied/referenced child abuse, house break-in, spoilers for Kaiser's backstory, if I missed something lmk NOTE(S): This is a two shot but I'm posting it here combined for my own convenience. The numerals show how the chapters are separated and indicates a long time skip.

I.

Someone’s coming closer and closer. It’s hard to catch Kaiser off guard — he’s sensitive to the slightest of sounds, so he can hear them approaching from behind without trouble, these sloppy footsteps slapping against the cement as if the owner is wearing really shitty shoes. He freezes with the ball still in his hands, doesn’t dare look back and check who it is, an irrational part of his brain suspecting it to be his father.

It takes a while for whoever it is to cross the distance, and then an unfamiliar voice rings, “Hey.”

Kaiser glances over his shoulder finally. You stand there, peering down at him while he’s sitting, cigarette spreading fumes in the air even though you don’t look any older than him. He doesn’t say anything to acknowledge you, though, just stares, tense and confused about your intentions.

You crouch down so you are at eye level with him. The bad smell follows, wafting by his nose and he holds down a cough on the off chance any noise might set you off and make you violent. You pull it out of your mouth and flick it away from him, apparently possessing enough decorum to stop blowing smoke in his face. “Why are you always doing that?”

“Huh?”

Kaiser knows what you mean, but he can’t help asking. After all he’d noticed you before all those times just like you’d noticed him. Every day you hang around the solitary playground at a distance while he messes around with the ball, though he never expected you’d speak to him. If anything you never pay much mind to each other.

You usually leave like you’re on some kind of schedule, but you’re up close to him now and he can see you’re in a similar condition to him — bruises and dirt littering your skin, tattered and ill-fitting clothes barely hanging onto your frame. The offenders behind your loud entrance he identifies as the torn pink fuzzy slippers he always sees you wearing, smeared with faded mud. Certainly not the most reliable footwear, but you’re in a better boat than he is on that front, what with him not wearing any shoes at all. Not his fault he outgrew his last pair, although naturally his father found a way to blame him. He’s creative like that.

“You’re always kicking the ball and punching the shit outta it.”

Embarrassed by the reasoning behind his behavior maybe, Kaiser averts his eyes. He hopes not responding will dissuade you from interacting with him.

It doesn’t work. “What’s your name?”

“… Michael.”

“So basic, but fine. I’ll call you Micha, ok?”

“You don’t need to call me anything.”

You offer your name in return. After taking another drag, you smile and ask, “How old are you?”

���Thirteen,” he says, figuring this is unimportant enough information that he can offer it without consequences until you grow bored and go away.

You grin at him and squint your eyes. The expression makes you seem smug for no discernible reason. “I’m fourteen, so I’m your senior. You can call me boss if you want. Got it, small fry?”

What an annoying attitude. He places the ball over his stomach and adjusts his position so he’s hugging his knees, this surly expression on his face. “It’s not even that big of a difference…”

“You sound so pensive when you talk. Hey, why do you kick the ball even though you don’t have shoes? Doesn’t it hurt?”

What else is someone supposed to do with a piece of trash except hurt it? Expressing such a sentiment out loud seems shameful, though. “Why are you smoking even when it’s bad for you and stupid and tacky? Why are you asking dumb questions even though you’re not getting anything out of it?”

You burst out laughing. “Woah, relax. Touchy.” When he doesn’t respond and instead continues scrutinizing you with scorn (which at this point you deem undeserved), you say, “I stole ‘em off someone. What’s stopping you from stealing a pair of shoes?”

“They’re too big to steal. It’s impractical.”

“You think small, but fair enough,” you say, before standing up, still grinning. Then you wave. “I’ve gotta go now. I’ll see you tomorrow, Micha.”

“Who said I want to see you?”

You laugh again as if his rejection is funny, but trudge on away from him. “C’mon, lighten up.”

Kaiser scoffs, pressing his cheek against the ball, tightening his hold against it. There is nothing to lighten up about.

___

Kaiser hasn’t taken any particular liking towards you, but you do hang out together every day since you approached him. He’s not sure why he tolerates your presence. Maybe because you’re resourceful — stealing is so much easier when you two coordinate. Or maybe it’s nice to talk to someone who doesn’t seem to want to strike him down and strangle him.

Currently you’re at the playground again. The lighter you use has some ugly, childish print on it. Kaiser is trying to inflate his ball with the air pump you swiped together from a shop in town earlier after you made fun of how ‘sad and flat’ it was and came up with the idea. When he hears the flicker and then registers the smell, Kaiser asks, “How many do you smoke a day?”

“One is to be stylish. Two is if I didn’t appreciate the first one enough. Three is if I still don’t feel like shitting.”

Kaiser frowns in disapproval at the moronic remark. Funny in an ironic sort of way how this lifestyle has you sounding like a ridiculous, fake adult — neither child nor mature, but something else entirely. A different category of human. He wonders if you think the same about him. “You fucking smell. How many are there in a pack?”

“Twenty,” you say after uselessly flipping over the lid, even though for one it’s not full and you already know the answer anyway, so it’s not necessary to check.

“So if you smoke three a day then you have to… steal one every two weeks?”

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion at this assessment. “No, that’s not right. It’s like once or twice a week depending.” Then you do some weird counting on your fingers for a while. “But even if it was exactly three a week, that’s like six point six or some shit like that. Dummy.”

“Shut up, shithead,” says Kaiser, embarrassed.

“Ok.”

“Leave me alone. I didn’t think about it too much.”

“I’m not even saying anything.” A moment of silence passes until an enlightened remark comes to mind. “Hey, Micha.”

“What?”

You scoot a little closer to him. Kaiser gets nervous at first and freezes, but calms down when it seems you’re not inching your hands towards him. Though the relief is short-lived because then you take an exaggerated sniff of the air and grin. “You stink too.”

He glares at you.

The ball ends up fine. Sure, it’s still beat up and dirty as most things around him, but at least it’s functional enough to kick again, and that’s what’s important.

___

“What now,” says Kaiser with an attitude of being greatly inconvenienced before plopping down next to you on the sidewalk.

You continue counting, trying to keep track of how much money you have on you. A series of gross, dry coughs escapes your mouth. When the fit near passes, you spit on the ground as if to ease your throat, hitting your chest for good measure. Kaiser watches the display with an impassive look on his face. Eventually you turn towards him and ask, “What’s your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Ok.”

“You’ve been quiet, not talking to me.”

“I’m gonna go get a haircut so I’m trying to see if I have enough,” you say, figuring he’s wondering about what you’re doing in a roundabout way.

Kaiser rams his head into his knees and makes some kind of noise which you can’t categorize between acknowledgement and disapproval.

You say, “Those children from the schoolyard were telling me having a bad haircut is ‘social suicide.’ Like ‘getting stabbed’ everyday. Apparently it’s the bowlcut that’s really shameful.”

“Other people have such stupid problems,” he says, irked, resentful. “I just cut it with scissors at home.”

“Yeah, man, I can tell. They wash your hair at the hairdresser though, so I wanna go now.”

“You really hang out with them? What do you even talk about?”

You shrug, pulling out a cigarette and then the hideous lighter. The smoke will waft by his nose again and irritate him. It’s unpleasant. The smell he associates with you is unpleasant, but it’s also yours so it’s kind of conflicting. “Recently I’ve been telling them I’m a ghost from the forest.”

Kaiser remains unamused the way you’ve always known him, but after some contemplation graces you with a snort, which makes you smile in return. He asks, “They don’t believe that. Right?”

“Maybe. They’ve got a what-do-you-call-it… You like football, don’t you?”

“A pitch.” He rolls his eyes as if forgetting the word is some kind of crime. Back he goes to frowning.

“Yea, they have that. You should sneak in with me sometime.” You shrug again as if the suggestion isn’t a big deal. “It’s fun.”

His nose scrunches at the thought, forehead wrinkling. It pisses him off just imagining it — truly a sickening concept. Why would you subject yourself to such a thing? Mingling with children who have nice things and an education and clean clothes and probably eat proper meals every night with their families. He doesn’t want to exchange pleasantries with people who can afford to concern themselves with social suicide. Stomach twisted in knots, Kaiser almost hurls, but somehow swallows the bile back down.

“Never,” he denies with finality.

“So dramatic, Micha.”

“Like you’re any better. You don’t care about anything. At all.”

At the sound of his tone getting more sulky than usual, you decide to spare him another glance. “Aww, are you tearing up?”

“No,” Kaiser lies, lips wavering. Unable to hold it in yet desperate to hide, he settles for covering his face with his hands, folding over himself. “I just fucking… hate this place. And I want out so… so bad.” Aside from the muffled sobs, there are also voice cracks littering his admission.

The thing is: you don’t really know what to do to make it all better.

___

Kaiser feels like he’s about to get a cramp from keeping his leg in this position for so long, lifted up and extended. Recently he stole a pair of sneakers from the thrift store, but the soles ended up falling off. Now you’re lathering everything in glue and wrapping it in tape in an attempt to salvage the situation.

“I’m not sure this is how it works,” he says. It’s kind of meek — a pathetic mumble — but you can recognize unwarranted criticism when you hear it.

“Take it or leave it.” You snap off the tape and move onto the next shoe.

When a snarky or otherwise offensive response doesn’t immediately come to mind, Kaiser resigns to silence. He continues observing you while you squeeze out copious amounts of glue. For a moment the only noises between you are those of your sniffles, the obnoxious huffing in of snot.

A few raindrops pour down, pelting your heads at the same time. You hiss when you realize your hard work is about to go to waste while all Kaiser provides in terms of reaction is a blink and a downwards twist of his lips.

“I don’t wanna go home,” you say, sounding distant, which he doesn’t hear from you much — usually there’s a lilt of amusement in your tone, some kind of playfulness lingering in all your words.

“I don’t either. It’s pointless anyway because you’ll get drenched by the time you go home and then there’s nothing to dry yourself with properly and it’s all one huge pain in the ass.”

“Right.” After signaling your agreement with his assessment, you shrug off your hoodie and stretch, trying to drape it enough so that it shields the two of you from the rain. Kaiser accommodates your goodwill by adjusting his position, scooting over next to you and cramming so he’s taking as little space as possible. It’s not an adequate cover by any means and you can tell his shoes will break apart again. But Kaiser is hugging you around the waist, resting his cheek against your neck, and you don’t have to deal with being at your place yet, so it can’t be all that bad.

___

“You look like a pufferfish,” you say unhelpfully.

Kaiser narrows his eyes at you in that way he tends to do which you haven’t seen anyone else replicate exactly. It’s kind of amusing when he does that, especially when one of them is irritated and droopy. “And you look like a spoiled apple.”

“Don’t mind. It’s a lot of bad things happening to me in that house.”

“I know,” says Kaiser.

You rub your cheek and then some more under your eye where the spots are the brightest. It makes him wince because your hands must be dirty, what with everything you two get up to in a day. Since Kaiser’s father strangles him, he’s always swollen and not so much bruised, but he thinks your parents must only leave it at punches while making up for it with enthusiasm. “I kinda like touching them when some time passes.”

“You’re sick.”

“Honestly I was, but it went away. I think I might have an ingrown toenail though.”

“No… I mean in the head.” To emphasize his point, Kaiser reaches out to probe your temple with his index finger. There’s another scratch blooming there, only coming to attention once his focus lands there, but it’s a waste of energy fixating on any of the small ones — he just can’t help but notice sometimes. “By the way, I don’t need to know what kind of toenail you have.”

You laugh, apparently finding his remark funny somehow. Then you reel your hand back before bringing it back down quickly as if you’re about to slap him. Still retaining his common sense, Kaiser flinches and tries to defend himself with his forearm. The reflex is foreign since he usually takes it lying down without moving an inch when it’s his dad.

His reaction makes you laugh harder for some reason, and you don’t smack him at all. Kaiser glares at you for your unfunny prank but you disregard it. Your hands settle around his throat instead, lightly tracing over the purple fingerprints, still fresh from last night. Almost immediately he clenches his teeth, tightlipped, breaking out into a sweat, expecting a harsh squeeze which never comes.

Kaiser wants to scold you for your idiotic behavior, yet he doesn’t. Maybe your hands aren’t for harm, he decides. And then he reaches out too, pressing his knuckle against the darkest contusion on your face. Your eye twitches closed. It turns into a strange fascination then, your skin touching his and his touching yours in places others had hurt. A ritualistic erasement.

___

You’re splitting the money again after selling off another valuable. It was some kind of fancy watch you two stole this time, more ballsy than usual. Once you pocket your share, you ask, “Are you saving up?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna move? Where?”

Kaiser shrugs. “I don’t care. Anywhere but here.”

You hum and walk ahead of him, probably looking for one of the drinking fountains in the area.

Either compelled by unusual curiosity or bothered by your silence, he says, “You wanna make it the fuck out of here too. Where would you go?”

“To the beach.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes behind your back, finding your answer stupid. Sure, the beach is an exotic idea considering he has never been to one, but all he can imagine is the sand sticking to his skin and the gross seaweed he’s seen in commercials inside stores and such. But on second thought both of these things are probably way less gross than the environment he spends every day in. He lets out a performative huff anyway and says ‘huh’ as if to demand an elaboration.

“I wanna be free like one of those seagulls that fly over the sea. D’you wanna be a seagull with me, Micha?”

“No. That’s dumb,” he says. You ignore him. Kaiser steels his nerves for a second and, after a dry swallow, takes a step so that he’s walking next to you rather than lagging behind. Then he brushes his fingers against yours lightly before making a sweaty, half hearted attempt at holding your hand. His cheeks are warm in a way he hasn’t felt them before. “Take me to your shitty beach someday.”

You make a more competent attempt at hand holding, grasping his fingers in yours until they’re interlacing, and then you swing your arms up and down. Kaiser has enough sense to be embarrassed by this, but doesn’t tell you to stop. He doesn’t know why, but this is the kind of contact he feels the need to savor. “So you do want to be a seagull.”

“Not interested.”

“You’re such a sourpuss, Micha, never playing along with anything.”

“It’s not my fault you make it sound dumb- Well, do you think it’s any use? Hoping for something like that…”

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up.”

“I won’t give up,” he says. “I just don’t know if it’ll work.”

“Come on. We’re gonna get out of here together someday. That’s gotta work.” You lift his arm in the air next and try to make him spin like a dancer. Though Kaiser is used to standing still and limp and letting things happen to him, the attempt doesn’t come out successful. At most he does a slight twist.

“Yeah. Together,” he agrees, like a promise. He imagines messing around with you in the sand with the sun warming his skin in contrast to the perpetual chill he’s become used to. Honestly despite belittling the idea earlier, it doesn’t seem so bad in his mind.

___

Kaiser yawns while sitting next to you on a bench, eating a burger. Since you’re famous for your generosity and kindness and all (not), you decided to ‘splurge out’ by buying food for you both from some shitty hole in the wall. It’s the most filling meal you’ve had in a while. You’re still chewing when you ask, “Are you tired or something?”

He rubs his eyes. “My father was fucking making noises throwing up all night.”

“Ah, your worthless sperm donor.” You nod sagely in acknowledgement.

“Yea, him. It reeked too and when I went to clean it, there were whole chunks in his vomit.”

You scoff. “Don’t clean after him.”

“Not like anyone’s going to clean it if I don’t.” Two more yawns accentuate his sentence. You reach out to throw away the container. For a second you consider keeping the plastic cutlery and maybe washing it at the drinking fountain later, but that seems too desperate even for you. Kaiser says, “I’d take a nap right now if I could, but I don’t want to go back yet.”

“It’s sunny today for the first time in a while. Would be a waste.” You watch Kaiser while he wipes his mouth and his fingers with the napkin. The dark circles around his eyes are worse than usual. “You can lie down on me and sleep if you want.”

“Huh? Really?”

“Yea, it’ll probably be really boring, but I’ll tolerate it,” you allow, ever so charitable.

Kaiser frowns, contemplating. He’s silent for so long, you forget you even suggested anything, but he eventually shifts around and rests his head on your lap, tense. You rake your fingers through his hair. “Don’t smoke,” he warns, but it’s kind of difficult to act butthurt when you’re being so… gentle with him.

“I won’t.”

“Seriously, don’t smoke right now.”

“I said ok already.”

Now that the matter is settled, he decides to trust you and flutters his eyes closed. Though your thighs and the bench aren’t the most comfortable places in the world, to Kaiser who only knows the cold hard floor, such an opportunity is borderline luxurious. The tang of the cigarettes clings even to the fabric of your pants, to your fingers — his favorite smell. You continue stroking his scalp and he dozes off with ease within minutes. Even though he’s snoring already, he moves to wrap his arms around your knee as if he feels a compulsive need to hold onto something in his sleep.

Kaiser looks surprisingly peaceful and precious right now. You hope he’s having a nice dream if any. A long stretch of ennui is ahead of you.

___

The antics have been ramping up as of late. In your defense, you weren’t sure how you were supposed to resist urging Kaiser to break in with you when you noticed the house with the open first floor window, clearly vacant. Though at first he displayed kleptomaniacal tendencies and wanted to rummage through the drawers for anything expensive, you deemed it too risky since you had no idea when the owner would come back. And then you told him you were merely interested in taking a proper shower.

Now you’re almost dry, waiting for Kaiser to finish. You can’t remember the last time you were so free of grime. Wearing the old clothes again almost feels shameful, like a step back. You sniff your armpit like a weirdo and realize your skin smells good .

Kaiser takes a while to come out and emerges looking like he underwent some kind of magical girl transformation. He’s trying to soak up the water from his hair with a towel, sending specks flying everywhere and dripping down his shirt when you blurt out, “You’re handsome.”

In a fashion you’d consider comedic, he stops dead in his tracks to gape at you with flushed cheeks. “What?”

“Your face is pretty.” He blinks. A crease appears on his forehead in apparent disapproval, though you’re not sure what he’s mad about (it’s a compliment!), especially when he’s still blushing. You make a vague hand gesture near your head to clarify your next point, “Try untangling it with your fingers.”

It takes Kaiser a good few seconds to get with the program before he twitches to attempt and follow your advice, but you both freeze when you detect the unmistakable sound of a door closing and locking downstairs. You push him back into the bathroom and close it behind yourself as gently as possible. Then you drag him back to the tub and gesticulate incomprehensibly some more to signal you should both get in and hide before sliding in behind the curtain and reclining on your side. Kaiser follows after you, but you think you might be doomed. It’s still wet, too, which is unpleasant, but not a priority considering the upcoming disaster.

Kaiser opens his mouth to speak, so you clamp it shut with your palm before putting your index finger over your lips. He embraces you, and he’s trembling, and then he hides in your neck as if you’re going to save him from whatever is about to come.

Like you’d assumed, the house owner enters almost immediately. You’re nauseous, stomach clenching. Kaiser is making a stunning impression of a corpse the way he’s not even breathing anymore in his attempt at being quiet. Your muscles are so tense on alert that it hurts and each passing second puts you more on edge.

Thankfully the flush comes and then the running water and then the person leaves with a click. Their footsteps get fainter and fainter until another door opens and closes. You stand and step out, trying not to make a noise still. Before going out into the hallway you throw a glance over your shoulder just to make sure Kaiser is still walking behind you, which he is.

Your movements are slow and light. The escape, especially while making your way down the stairs, is drawn out and excruciating. You hop out through the window you came in from. There you are outside, somehow without incident.

You turn to look at Kaiser again once you hear the rustle of the grass accompanying his jump. With the adrenaline still kicking, you break out into a sprint, eager to get far away. Kaiser catches up to you and you burst out laughing but you’re not even sure why, since you don’t find any of what transpired particularly amusing. A slight smile appears on his face when he recognizes the sound.

___

The next day you notice Kaiser isn’t at the playground, even though he always gets there before you do. No biggie — you can exert some patience.

After a while you start tapping your foot. It’s not like you have a watch to check what the time is or how long it’s been or a phone to ask him where he’s at. So you settle on putting on a show of irritability.

Nothing. Your legs hurt so you go sit down on the swing. You’re getting pretty old for the playground anyway, you think as you pull out a cigarette and light it, eyes darting around. Parents and their children, but no sign of Micha.

You exceed your usual three and end up burning half the pack in your attempt to occupy yourself during your waiting. It relaxes you usually, smoking, when you have a lot of shit juggling around your brain, but it doesn’t work this time.

Did something happen?

… Did his dad finally kill him?

___

Kaiser doesn’t show up at the playground ever again no matter how many times you go.

___

It’s another day where you need to shield your eyes from the sunlight with your hand. You’ve been seeing more of those since you ran away. Must be allegorical or some shit.

From your peripheral vision, while you walk down the street, you pass by a store that has one of those TVs on display, playing a sports game. You spare a moment to look, intrigued, nostalgic in a way — it reminds you of when you were little, when that kind of thing was more common.

They’re playing football, you realize, and you find that evocative too. Some guy scores a goal and they zoom in on him even though he’s not celebrating, instead choosing to stand there like a statue with his arms crossed. Like he’s too cool to get excited, which strikes you as obnoxious.

Then they show his face in full, up front.

You know that face. You’d recognize that face anywhere.

The back of his jersey reads ‘Kaiser’ and yet you never knew him as anything besides his first name.

At first you’re relieved considering you were under the impression catastrophe must’ve befallen him, but the solace doesn’t last long. When the realization hits, your eyes widen and your lips fall into a thin line. It's similar to a punch in the gut how all the air seems to vacate your chest. All this wind around you and you can’t get any.

The only person you ever loved left you behind without a second glance in your direction.

___

II.

Michael Kaiser is mildly inconvenienced. Billions injured on the scene and millions more will die.

So maybe he’s been ranting at someone who he didn’t even glance at, eyes closed, mind way too lost in his reverie. A part of his brain doesn’t even comprehend he’s in fact speaking to a person instead of a cardboard cutout. It’s to his complete shock and bafflement when after so much babbling he receives a reply. “Hey, Mr. Kaiser was it? Shut the fuck up.”

He flutters his eyes open to give the ingrate a glare and speak his mind some more, but he freezes on the spot at the sight in front of him. His blood runs cold, heart stuttering in his chest.

He’d know that face anywhere, even if right now it’s more unamused and neutral — nothing like the expressions in his memories. He’s not sure why his body is reacting like this either, tensing up with a nervous jitter in his system.

Wasn’t he supposed to have left all that stuff in the past? Yet a single look at you is enough to cause this response: this uncertainty, like he’s still a little boy who veers towards hopeless and incompetent, and fuck, why are you giving him such a dead stare?

Do you not recognize him?

Do you not love him anymore?

It’s a rash thing to focus on as his immediate concern especially when he hasn’t been killing himself with worry over you or anything during your years apart, but right now when you’re in front of him it’s all he wants to know. Which is cruel and selfish in a way, in his specific Kaiser-ish way, how he’s first preoccupied with himself before he wonders about your state of mind or living situation. A need to bait for a sign you still care about him torments him even if it might be drastic right off the bat.

When no ingenious idea for such a thing comes to mind and Kaiser realizes he’s been staring at you like a moron, he says, “Don’t call me Mr. Kaiser. It makes me sound old and decrepit.” And that isn’t what you of all people should be referring to him as.

You continue assessing him in a manner which can be described as judgmental at best. “Isn’t that what you said your name is during your little monologue?”

“You already know what my name is.” The awkward silence which follows is almost unbearable. Kaiser scratches himself on the neck even though he’s not itchy just to pass the time. Finally he snaps, “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Sorry to break it to you, sir, but most employees anywhere aren’t happy to listen to ten minute long demented tirades about non-problems.”

“Well maybe I overreacted a little,” concedes Kaiser and gives you what he thinks is a suave smile in an attempt at downplaying how uneasy he is. He thinks you can feel it. He thinks you’re doing it on purpose, hurting him with intention. “Are you seriously going to act like you don’t know me?”

Your pitiless gaze sticks to him like glue even when you take out the ice cubes and throw a generous amount into his drink before sticking a paper parasol in it with lots of spite, which is what the big stink he threw a tantrum over was all about. Kaiser wants to tell you that you’re very hot when you’re no longer a starving punching bag, but thinks better of it. Doesn’t seem charming even coming from him. 

“There.” You slide the cup across the counter towards him. “I fixed your shitty smoothie.”

“It’s not a smoothie!”

“A mocktail is basically juice.”

Wrapping his fingers around it, Kaiser doesn’t leave. Instead he chooses to stay and observe you in silence, jaw clenching.

“You can go.”

“I’m not going until you admit you know who I am.”

“What, are you famous or something?” you ask, bemused.

Kaiser is on the cusp of hypertension because you’re doing it on purpose and you’re not even doing it well because you want him perfectly aware of what you’re up to. You’ve never done this — hurt him before, let alone by design — so Kaiser almost assumed you were incapable of it. Though it makes sense that you are. After all, you’re the same type of inhuman he is, and he’s done this if not worse hundreds of times, and even reveled in it. Yet the realization you’re not what he remembers of you stirs disillusionment within him. The nature of it, he doesn’t quite grasp.

Kaiser contemplates causing a scene more than he already has, but he’s not sure how to do so while still getting what he wants. Trying to joke even though above all he wants to throw a tantrum, he whines, “You’re so immature.”

“I’m sorry that my reaction to getting threatened with a lawsuit over ice cubes was immature, Mr. Kaiser.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about!”

Your exterior remains listless and vacant, and Kaiser wants to scream the longer you scrutinize him in this manner. Eventually you spin your finger near your temple as if to call him delusional, then move onto taking the order of someone else.

His eyes narrow until you’re so blurry he can barely see you, perhaps either to censor you from his sight or because a milder expression wouldn’t suffice in communicating his disdain. With a final grit of his teeth and maybe a visible vein on his forehead, Kaiser stands up to leave. Fine. You win this one, but it’s war now.

The scorch of the sand under his feet startles him. He kind of forgot how hot it was, what with getting so distracted. Another comeuppance on a list of many. Today is punishment.

Dramatic inner soliloquy aside, Kaiser makes it back to the beach bed quickly, still reeling over that interaction. You’re here? You’re here, in front of him again, and apparently you’re not too happy to see him.

In the most disinterested tone he can muster, Sae asks, “Did they fix your smoothie?”

“It’s not a fucking smoothie!” With the grace of a lobotomized koala, Kaiser drops it over the small table separating them and barely resists the urge to hurl it at Sae. This would do wonders for his mental health short term, but again he’s trying to feign decorum.

With his trademark deadpan, Sae pretends none of that just happened. Kaiser turns around to look back at the hotel bar where you’re gesticulating at your coworker. Both of you seem immensely annoyed, wild and animated while you converse.

“Fuck, they’re totally complaining about me.”

Sae follows the line of direction through which Kaiser is stalking you. After a few seconds of analysis, he says, “Those are definitely the ‘this shit stain just threatened to sue me,’ ‘wow, really, what the hell’ faces.”

Kaiser snaps his head to look at him with genuine surprise. “What- How’d you know?”

“... You’re so embarrassing, it’s predictable.”

“And you’re annoying,” he says. “I’ll tell Coach to get rid of you and airdrop me Ness.”

“It’s cute that you think the coach cares about your opinion on me enough to replace me. The same as thinking the strippers at the club like you, in a way.”

There is a while of silence where Kaiser’s just snarling while Sae seems like he couldn’t give less of a shit. Then he adds his finisher,

“Or I guess in your case it’s like thinking the bartender actually cares about your order.”

Oh, fuck this vacation.

___

The heat is unbearable.

You step out into the sun and saunter up the wooden path to take your break away from the beach. Sweat has been exuding from your skin for the last few hours. Even so when you make it to the sidewalk, you keep your eyes trained on the scenery as you trudge on to your destination. The sand, the sea, the plants — some natural and some artificial.

Before long your legs take you to your usual street vendor, where you’ll order a shitty pancake that won’t do much to nourish you, but it’ll be so sweet that you’ll be too nauseous to get hungry for a while. The queue isn’t unbearable.

Not until you sense someone hovering behind you, followed up by a hand settling on your shoulder. You turn around to grace the offender with a disgusted side glance, but you’re so baffled to see Kaiser there, you just… freeze.

He’s sneering at you. In fact he looks so happy with himself, you want to vomit. Preferably on him.

“What a coincidence,” he says without even a sliver of shame.

You roll your eyes and face front again, deciding it’s in your best interest to feign ignorance to his existence. Taking this as a sign to elevate the antics to a more obnoxious level, Kaiser resigns himself to the role of one of those domesticated leeches, hanging off you now, fully wrapping his arm around your shoulders. His gaze is burning into your side profile to the point it’s unnerving and you can feel the artificial smugness emanating from his form.

“I thought we were done talking yesterday.”

“Really? You did? How naive,” he coos at you mockingly.

It is convenient that during this time of need — when you’re lacking a good comeback — your time to order comes up. You talk to the guy working about your aforementioned shitty pancake. The moment you shut your mouth, however, Kaiser starts listing off things you’re not even keeping track of like you’re hanging out together or something.

With a mild dispute over whether it’s ‘backwards’ that they do not accept payment through a card, which makes you want to die because you’re a regular here and now the employee who knows you by face will associate you with this pest, Kaiser pays for your thing, too. On the one hand you’re prideful, but on the other you’ve lived the life of a bottomfeeder who takes every scrap they’re given without question, and it’s the kind of conditioning you can’t let go of. So you allow it.

He ends up with an inordinate amount of food in his hands, too much for one person to eat. You’re still doing your ignoring shtick even when Kaiser pulls you down to sit next to him on the table. Content with pretending he doesn’t exist as he is dead to you, you bite onto your food in relative peace, mind drifting somewhere else. Until he speaks that is. “This must be our fateful meeting.”

“I don’t see what’s so fateful about it if you followed me?”

Unbeknownst to you, Kaiser too is adept at the ‘hearing only what he wants to hear’ game. So he moves on with the conversation without any indicator of comprehending what you just said. “I think it’s quite ironic, actually.”

“What are you on about now?”

“You told me you want to go to the beach once. And where do I find you? On the beach. It's an astral influence, I’m sure.”

“Ah? I don’t remember telling you that.”

You’re blinking at him in mild confusion. This hurts Kaiser a hundred times more than when you were deliberately going out of your way to act dismissive of him because he can tell you mean it. To think one of the moments he clung onto the most had slipped your mind.

His eyes are wide and his lips stand still in a thin line, so he forces himself to smirk again and glosses over the information which just shattered him. “So you admit you know me then?”

“No, Mr. Kaiser, I have no idea who you are. I’m thinking you should admit yourself to a hospital. They say false memories are an important symptom in psychopathology.”

“Very funny. I prefer Micha or at least Michael, though.”

“Do I give a fuck?”

He scowls at you. “Yes.”

You finish off your pancake and wipe your hands with the napkin in mild disgust. Kaiser laughs at the wrinkle of your face while you do so, and then he scoots an inch closer.

“Help me finish it all off.” He gestures at all the paper plates.

Pinching between your fingers, you tug the first thing that seems appetizing closer to your side of the table. Kaiser scoops up some of the portion for himself and dumps it in another meal. You ask, “Why are you trying to suck up to me?”

“Aw, is it so wrong to want to treat my closest friend?”

You scoff. The movement of your eyelids fascinates Kaiser — you never really showed any annoyance towards him before, so he finds these expressions of distaste fascinating even if they make him sick. “We haven’t seen each other in four years, so if I’m still your closest friend somehow, that’s just sad. Be for real if you’re gonna be anything.”

“You’re being so difficult! What did I even do?!” To be honest, he’s lying and his gaze isn’t even shying away from you while he’s lying, not even a twitch. He knows you, so he knows that you’re mad he couldn’t be assed to tell you where he went even though he obviously could. He thinks playing dumb might be more in his favor here, though, so he’ll do that. “I don’t even like going to the fucking beach. I’ve been going every year to different places searching for you.”

The unbridled perturbation on your face upon hearing this is quite amusing. Priceless even. You were calling him crazy merely for the sake of fucking with him, and perhaps it was your earnest attempt at gaslighting him but you’re not about to admit it. Right now, though, you think he is genuinely insane.

“You’re saying that to appease me,” you accuse, hoping you’re correct, but also not. The idea he might’ve thought about you like you did about him while you were separated enthralls you, though you can’t let him win you over his bullshit.

“Maybe,” says Kaiser, trying to be mysterious.

Since he obviously wants you to ask him for an elaboration, you deny him the satisfaction.

“How much do you make working at that shitty bar?”

“Enough.”

“I should take you back to Spain with me,” Kaiser decides. With too much confidence at that. “You’d have anything you could ever want.”

It is not like it was before. He’s not acting the way he used to. You suppose you aren’t either. But anyway, you thought it inconceivable that he would ever joke — is he joking? — or make the absurd statements he’s been making. It’s natural, in a way, since you’re also not of the same temperament as before.

With a huff, you say, “You’ll never be my sugar daddy, Kaiser.”

“You’re no fun nowadays.” There’s an amused lilt in his tone while he sneers — you think the way he smiles is fake. You recall he was kind of quiet and awkward and stilted, unnatural at first maybe because he was out of practice in communicating with others, but now he speaks with insincere charisma, like a showman. Yet still the things he says so casually are off-kilter, ruining whatever illusion he’s attempting to sell. “And I said to call me Micha.”

“I don’t need to call you anything.”

It’s all about the metamorphosis. It’s about becoming each other so you’re never truly apart.

___

You’re crouching under one of the tropical trees overlooking the road by the wooden path leading down the beach. The shade is insufficient and the heels of your feet are digging into your ass to the point it hurts. Before your break, the thought of smoking a cigarette had entered your brain so you obeyed it as it was too pervasive even though you don’t enjoy lighting up anything during such weather, believe it or not.

Your eyes are glossy since you’re spacing out, taking puffs. When two silhouettes come to a halt right in front you, only then does the absentminded trance end.

Kaiser waves at you with unnecessary enthusiasm which is just for show. They’re late, arriving way past their usual time. Earlier when he and his companion didn’t show when you expected them to, you assumed maybe their vacation ended and they’d headed home.

The other guy is sullen, but at least his eye lashes are long, which must count for something. After sparing you a glance, he turns towards Kaiser and says judgmentally, “You’re still harassing staff.”

“I’m not har-”

Not giving a shit, the other guy straight up leaves, not bothering to participate in the discussion on a topic he brought up. You watch in mild bafflement as he walks off without a care.

“Ignore him,” Kaiser says. A plastic smile overtakes his face before he squats down next to you, butting into your body with his and almost toppling you over. This is probably bad for his knees, and you’re half exposed to the sun now. Somehow he has created several problems where there were none. “You still smoke.”

You don’t reply, but maintain the common decency not to blow any in his face. He should stay away from you. Isn’t he an athlete? Shouldn’t he be cautious about secondhand smoke? You consider putting it out altogether, then, so you stub it in the almost empty can of the fizzy drink you’d been drinking earlier.

“What kind of lighter do you have now? Has your taste gotten any better?”

No response again. He places an arm around your waist. Through touching you so often it’s like he’s trying to hammer it into your head that you were close, and yet intangible things seem to evade Kaiser, so maybe he’s struggling to conceive of any other way to reestablish your connection.

“You still smell the same. Like nicotine.”

“Well, you smell the way you used to, too.”

The space between his brows wrinkles and his nose twitches in irritation at your words. “The fuck do you mean? No, I don’t.”

“Let me spell it out for you in a way we both understand.” For the first time since your strange reunion, you reciprocate the physicality and pull him in by the shoulder till you’re forehead to forehead so you can look him in the eyes while explaining. “When I saw you a few days ago for the first time in so long, it was like you basically still had a sign that says ‘broke ass bum.’”

He gapes at you with incredulity, this offended expression on his face.

“I mean,” you say, snickering in bewilderment at the absurdity of his previous actions, “you were gonna sue me over some ice cubes, really? Acting like a spoiled little prince to disguise where you crawled out from? I think you and I have got the kinda stench not even all the Dior in Avenue Montaigne can wipe off.”

His fingers would’ve dug hard into your flesh if your shirt wasn’t in the way with how his grip tightens in response. The grit of his teeth exposes more of them. Strangely, you think he has nice gums. “Why the fuck are you being like this?”

“‘Cause you were content to forget all about me, but you don’t want me to be angry at you either. You should’ve just been polite and pretended you didn’t recognize me. But no, you want it all. I hate people like you who make no sense.”

“You’re just jealous,” Kaiser accuses, trying the snobby angle. If he’s pretentious then he’s not hurt by you claiming you despise him. At least that’s what he settles on.

“Sure. That could be true as well.” You stand up and take the can with you to throw away.

Kaiser plops down on the sand, tired of squatting, and doesn’t bother watching you plod back to the bar but the sound of your footsteps rings heavy in his ears until it dissipates. He hugs his knees like the wet wipe he is at heart.

The kindest person he’d known was a scammer and a liar and a thief and who knows what else. It hurts like nothing else to bear the weight of your desertion.

This must be cellular rejection. You should’ve been ecstatic to see him on account of your shared inhumanity. Does it not matter to you anymore, the fact that you and Kaiser are the same?

… Right; you’re not the ball. When he hits you, you can hit him back.

___

The beach is desolate and eerie at night. Kaiser came out to brood, which was fine because Sae didn’t care to ask him where he was going when he left the room. Unlike during the day, the sand is cool under his feet now — what an obtuse observation to make, all things considered. He’s annoyed and frustrated at himself as usual when things don’t go his way.

There’s a light illuminating someone’s face where they recline on one of the lounge chairs. It’s blue, meaning the source is a phone. Kaiser startles because he assumed he was alone.

And you startle when you see him staring at you in the dark, but instead of screaming all you do is let out an unconvincing gasp and turn on the backlight to reveal him. Kaiser covers his eyes with his forearms and turns away, letting out some vampiric kind of noise.

Then you frown and go back to tapping away on your shitty mobile game. “You’re such a creep honestly,” you say in distaste.

Once he gets over the assault you just committed on his admittedly sensitive eyes, Kaiser sits down next to you uninvited.

“It’s a coincidence,” he snaps. “I don’t want to be around you either. You’re so fucking exhausting. Can’t talk to you like a normal person at all because of your stupid grudge.”

“Then why are you still trying?”

Of course, there are many answers to that question. Some including but not limited to I think I can still love you like before and I miss you and I regret not sending you that postcard and I hate how you’re mad at me, but I can’t seem to get it right. Though such pathetic things aren’t in Kaiser’s nature to spew, so they never make it past his throat. The words constrict around his neck like a noose.

Instead of answering, he says, “You’ve got a phone now. You should give me your number.”

“No.”

“You’re just trying to make my life difficult for no reason!”

You give him another one of your blank stares. In the dullness of the night, obviously the gesture stays meaningless, though Kaiser can sense the bemusement in your silence at least.

Seeing that ignoring the problem at large isn’t turning out to be the winning move, Kaiser sighs and tries to think of what to say. There’s probably some kind of trick to this, some way he could fool you into overlooking his transgressions. Though when you were friends, he never did that to you, and you never left him then. Maybe it’s not necessary. In this situation, it’s proving to even be detrimental.

Kaiser picks at the skin on his neck. It’s to his benefit you can’t see each other well — he’s not sure he’d be able to spit it out without the detachment of the environment. “Listen, I’m not good at this shit, but… If I have to be honest, I was really paranoid. I didn’t want to think about the past and I didn’t want to get dragged back into it, so I was too scared to even write you a letter to tell you I’m fine. But stumbling on you again, it’s probably fucking stupid but I don’t want to lose track of you anymore. It’s lonely.”

“I wasted a year of my life thinking you were dead,” you say.

“I’m sorry.”

“Tomorrow’s my free day.”

There’s an uncertain excitement in Kaiser now, as if you might be yanking his chain and he doesn’t want to commit to the feeling right away. “Sure, I’m leaving after tomorrow, so that works. Meet me here and we can catch up.”

“I see this shitty beach enough as it is,” you say.

“Yeah, but not the way you’re supposed to.”

You shrug.

Without prompting or any indication that you care, Kaiser says, “I have a horrible sunburn.” He will always find something to bitch about. It’s like he’s never satisfied.

After a few swipes, you unlock your phone and pass it to him so he can add his contact information. “Then use aloe vera or something. What are you, stupid?”

“I don’t have any,” justifies Kaiser, inputting the digits. His tone is defensive because this is the first he’s heard of it, but it’s not like he’ll admit that.

Your forgiveness is fake, in a way. It’d been a grudge you held for a while and a betrayal you wouldn’t tolerate from anyone else. Maybe you’ll hold it over his head if he displeases you. So it’s not real forgiveness, is it, more so a lenience, a testament to your past, that your love for him somehow prevails over your need to enact the lex talionis.

___

The sand sinks under your weight with each step you take, waves lapping over the shoreline, seagulls and children squealing in the background. Sunset makes everything easier on the eyes and the heat is finally settling down since it’s getting late into the afternoon.

You had a nice time catching up with Kaiser in another part of the city, although he displayed a susceptibility to tourist traps. He gloated a lot, and you pretended you didn’t know about half of it from reading his Wikipedia page that one time when you were fostering your hate boner for him. You told him about how you ran away and ended up in another country and about how you’re still on the missing persons site.

Now you’re going back by the seaside instead of through the streets. You walk side by side, your ankles touching the water. Kaiser’s grin is wide, which makes him seem smug, but this time it doesn’t strike you as forced so maybe he is simply carefree. It’s an unusual sight for you — Kaiser, genuinely smiling.

“I think I’ll come see you again when it’s off season. Or maybe we can arrange for you to come visit me instead. I’ve got all sorts of things I want to show you,” he says. He never really had anything to give you before, and now he takes pride in having the means to do so, regardless of whether you’re interested or impressed.

“Whatever, Micha. You’re so full of it. I bet it’ll be lame or you’ll forget you promised.”

He remains pleased despite the teasing, even happier if possible. “It’s fine if you say pointless shit like that, I don’t mind a challenge. All I have to do is prove you wrong.”

___

Lol at the end of finishing this I teared up in Frustration because I couldn't write this the way I envisioned it and then I couldn't save it through editing either (<- guy who's defiinitely normal and casual ) and I kinda just wanted to be done with it so I'm not gonna hold it hostage any longer either. Idk I'm just mad and depressed about it rn i guess. Thank U all for tapping in

[sweetbunpura]

Yuu singing defying gravity from Wicked. Listening to it and thought Yuu.

I LOVE THE WICKED OST!

I didn't see the new one, but I'm gonna use the OG one~

Vil crossed his arms as he walked down the empty hallways. With VDC tribe picked, he was starting to wonder if this team would really be the one to take the gold. Upon Rook's request, he had chosen the Heartslabyul's spudlings, even if they were untrained and with hardly a note of coordination between them. Jamil and Kalim were perfect when it came to movement, but their singing needed work. That just left Epel, since he knew Rook and himself were fine on that front.

"I'm truly given such an underdog team, aren't I?" Vil sighed.

"Something has changed within me."

Vil paused as he heard a voice from a classroom behind him. He backed up and spotted the door that had been cracked opened. Pushing it open, Vil poked his head inside to see....Yuu? She held a broom in her hands as she sang in a small voice before it started to pick up in power and range.

"I'm through accepting limits, cause someone says they're so. Some things I cannot change, but til i try I can not know."

Vil could hear the imaginary band rise in power as she continued.

"I'd soon buy defying gravity!"

He watched as she acted out the scene, playing both parts flawlessly. She hit the notes as correctly as she could, but Vil could hear the strain in her voice.

"So if you care to find me, look towards the western skies!" Yuu smiled. "As someone told me lately, 'Everyone deserves a change to fly!'" She spun around using the broom. "And if I'm flying solo, at least I'm flying free! To those who'd ground me, take a message back from me!" Her voice raised in pitch. "Tell them how I am defying gravity! I'm flying high, defying gravity! And soon I'll match them in renown!" Yuu took a deep breath. "And nobody in all of Oz, no wizard that there is or was, is every gonna bring...."

'C'mon, Potato, hit the note.'

"Me down!"

Vil found himself stepped further into the room.

"Bring me down!"

He may not know what the full context of the song was, but Vil could guess from how powerful she was singing it.

'Once more, Yuu.'

"Aaaaahhhoooahhh!"

Yuu ended the song with a deep breath and a cough. She shook her head and twirled the boom around.

"Try not to ruin your voice, Homura." She chastised herself.

Vil started clapping, causing her to jump and star at him with wide eyes.

"Schoenheit!? When did!?" She looked around wildly. "Y-You didn't hear any of that, did you?"

"Not all of it, but enough to cement my decision."

"Huh?"

"You're joining the VDC, Potato."

"Huh!?"

[kuni-is-daddy]

can you do a scaramouche or kuni x wanderer x reader threesome story? i love your writing btw!! (⁠^⁠^⁠)

Wanderer x scaramouche X female Reader

'Agree to disagree' : word count 1.5k

ScaraFicList

Cw: Minors do not interact past the cut! This is a nsfw post!

Remembering when wanderer talked about how he gets angry at himself all the time- Me when i don't post.😭

Kuni and scara would always argue with eachother for no reason- yet always agree with eachother when it comes to their shared love for you. "You want to take her to a vantage point for a date? Ugh. Could you think of anything more boring than that?" Scara lightly stroked his black pen against the paper, pretending to write Wanderer's idea on the list.

"Lets take her to that teahouse in inazuma, they have great black tea there." Wanderer nearly hurled at the idea. "Yes..Inazuma..." Scara mumbled. Truly a nation of filth, One he use to spend centuries yearning to overthrow. Oh how he'd love to see the look on his creator's face as he destroyed the grand narukami shrine, burning down the sakura tree with his electro flame as- "How ridiculous, is that pathetic nation really all my past self could think about? So much.. That i use a date as a excuse to destroy it?" Wanderer leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs while scara snapped out his daze. "You imbecile. Do you need your mechanical ears fixed? Thats not what i meant. But sure..Maybe that would be an even better reason for you to go. A fool like you could use a trip there instead of hiding in this nation of delusion and...-" Wanderer raised an eyebrow as scara ranted. "And...?" "I needn't say more, Thats all this place is. Cant believe I got stuck here of all places after you foolishly erased yourself. Did you really think the gods would listen to US of all beings?"

Scara got out of his chair, walking towards his reborn self and scoffing at the glowing vision under his ornament. "It doesnt matter, obsessing over that is a waste of time. What matters is that Y/N is safe now. When we're done with kusanali you can 'wander around' and see for yourself what beelzebul thinks of us- you. For all I care." Scara sucked his teeth and sat back down. 'safe from what..me?'. "Lets go to the vantage point first, Then go out for tea. But Not, In inazuma." He snatched the paper from scara. "Fine. Then I expect that you at least picked a decent spot."

Scara held your soft hand as the both of you followed wanderer up the cemented pathway, Heels clicking under your sparkling black dress to match their suits. Wanderer had his ornament on a upper pocket besides his tie, as scara had his on his belt. Of course..Wearing a dress this pretty would be a hassle to wash but it was nothing compared to hearing your two lovers bicker over them 'copying eachothers taste in clothes and gifts.' Just thinking about it made you giggle. Wanderer then broke the silence by wrapping his arm around your waist, bringing you closer to him and almost stealing your held hand from scara. "The scenery is breathtaking isnt it baby?" "Yes! you picked out a great spot wand-" he cut you off, "Shh..No need to thank me though." Wanderer trailed his hand down to your waist. "You wearing this dress I bought is more than enoug-" Scara then pulled on wanderers tie. Giving a death glance to himself that made you gulp "S-scara! why'd you-" you shrieked. "Is this why you saved my plans for last hm? More of your pathetic and desperate attempts to show off for y/n?" Scara mocked. In an instant it was as if you we're sandwiched in between the two puppets chests, wobbling in your heels as wanderer everso tightly rubbed his hand along your waist while scara moved his hand ontop of wanderers. "Show off? Hah, Its childish for you to even think that. Is talking bad on yourself a kink of yours?" Wanderer smirked. You sighed and countined to look at the pretty sunset while they argued over your head.

The 3 of you arrivied at the teahouse Scara suggested, Beads of cor lapiz hanged along the white slicked walls as decor if it was freshly painted, along with plush cushions and chairs. "Guess picking a nice place is something your reliable on. Y/n why dont you wait over there while me and scara get our table ready?" Wanderer said, to which you nodded then sat at a nearby cushion. "So. Are you paying?" He asked, "Unnecessary, just put it on the northland banks tab and the fatui will-" the ballader bit his tongue. Since he erased himself the fatui wouldnt have any knowledge of giving him or receiving mora. "What? Tsk. Dont tell me we relied on that 9th ranked guy for mora?" Wanderer sighed. "I wouldnt rely on that mortal for anything. Especially on his affiliation with the doctor. I have my own mora. I guess Lessor lord kusanali gives you an allowance as they call it?" "Dont bother. I have a job unlike you, 'balladeer.' such a bygone title.." "Oh right...Running around sumeru for Buer is that-" The balladeer was interrupted by the waiter. "Hat guy, Scara. Why are you two arguing? This is supposed to be one of Ms Y/Ns special days." Scara rose an eyebrow, eyeing down the waiter "Who the fuck are you? Heh. The audacity some of you humans have. I cant believe I live around you-" Wanderer nudged at scara's side. "You fool. Look at her eyes." The waiters eyes we're glowing a slight green, with a stroke of neon green coming down the womans hair. Nahida hid her mouth behind her hand, giggling at the two. "Heheh sorry- I just wanted to check up on you two. Is everything going alright? Is she having fun?" Scara rolled his eyes. "Ugh.. If you tried any harder buer id start to think you actually cared." "We're fine buer. Y/n finds my past selfs immaturity amusing. You can stop with this stalking hobby of yours." The mini archon smiled, completely forgetting about the waiter and acting as if it was her own job.

--(Wanderer is referenced as Kuni.)

The 3 of you arrive to your home. You walked into your shared room, kicking off your heals then throwing yourself into bed with a heavy sigh while wanderer and scara locked up for the night. The both of them would feel so guilty for you being this tired and assume it's their fault. When you actually just had really long day. They'd knock on the door before climbing into the bed, only wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Wanderer sitting up in the bed while scara trailed his hand through your hair laying beside you. "Scara...kuni.. please im fine.. just a bit tired.." "No..that's not it.. we shouldn't have been arguing on our date...let us take care of you tonight y/n." Kuni tugged at your stockings while scara snickered at his pleads. "O-okay..just be gentle please.." you laid your head against the pillow with a clear view of scaras devious expression, he whispered in your ear "There's my good pet~" before smashing his lips against yours, making your legs twitch as Kuni climbed ontop of you, trailing his hands under your dress and towards your hips. "S-scara~ slow down i-" he placed your chin in his palm. "Shh... spread your legs for master" you parted your legs as you felt your stockings subtly rip with each pull. Before you could scold the two puppets again, scara pulled you into another kiss. Letting his tongue explore your sweet taste.

God he hated sweets but having it through you made it so much better he made sure to steal it from his present self. Kuni looked up from in-between your legs to view your head getting pushed into the pillow by scara as his hand trailed down to your clothed cleavage. Getting hard just at the sight of it, he pulled your undergarment aside. Your glistening wet folds causing him to lick his lips before digging his black painted fingernails into your thighs. You gasped for air as scara pulled away from another heated kiss. He rubbed his fingertip on his lip, looking at it to see your smudged lipgloss rub on his finger. The both of you stared at eachother, catching your breath until you felt a warm sensation though your lower body. "Ah! K-kuni..Fuck!!" Hearing you curse shot another wave of lust throughout their ears, you wanted them to be gentle but God the line holding them back from devouring you grew thinner and thinner.

Scara rubbed in circles on your cleavage roughly while Kuni's tongue swirled around your bud. Your shared bedroom echoed the sounds of your mixed pleads and their praise in your mushy mind. They we're both painfully hard. Scara began shifting in the bed for any type of friction and making Kunis tongue slosh inside you while he rubbed his finger on your bud, completely disregarding his 'breathing' just to moan endlessly into you, sending shivers throughout your body. "M-master..M' so close. Please don't stop! I-" "that's it pet.. louder, I wanna hear how good masters making you feel." "Hah...you taste so good baby~ want you to squirt all over my tongue.. be a good girl and let go for me..just like that~" Your toes curled as your thighs inched closer to kuni's head, reaching your limit and screaming out his name while your juices gushed onto his tongue and face. Scara sunk his face into your neck after hearing you plead out again, Cumming untouched in his shorts. You tried calming down from your high, breathing heavily until Kuni and scara pulled away from you, Unbuttoning and unzipping their clothing infront of you. Flustered you tried hiding your face with a pillow until you felt one of them straddle you by your legs, raising them up above his shoulders. Kuni laughed, pulling the pillow away from your face and replacing it with his aching hard on.

"Dont hide now Baby, This is your special night."

GOOD LUCK TO ALL WANDERER/KUZUUZUZU/KABUKIMONO/HATGUY/SCARA PULLERS. I HOPE HE COMES THROUGH THE SCREEN AND MAKES U FEEL GOOD. 👍🤭

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Treat You 8

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, violence, abuse, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (Tall!reader)

Note:Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You find your way upstairs and rush into the bathroom. You don’t know if it’s the grease or the embarrassment but you’re nauseous as heck. You lock the door and sit on the closed toilet, cradling your head as you bite back tears.  

You’re not surprised. You are always the joke. Never part of the group, just that sore thumb sticking out. Literally most times as you stand hunched above everyone. Why can’t you be like the other girls? Why can’t you be petite and cute? 

You sit up, your shoulders aching with the usual stiffness from curling them constantly. You rub your face until the tingle fades away. No use in crying. It never stopped your dad from yelling or made the pain any better. 

You’ll just grab your shoes and bag and go. You’re sure no one will notice. You can hear them downstairs, their voices babbling happily. What you wouldn’t give to be a part of that. To be able to just be happy and forget about your life for just a few hours. 

There’s a knock at the door. You stare at it. Frig. You can’t really sneak out now. 

You don’t move. You just wait. Maybe they’ll go away. Nope. Another tap, then your name. 

“Hey, you in there? Everything okay?” Peter asks through the door. 

You take a deep breath and stand, “I’m fine.” 

You turn to the sink and twist the faucet. You wash your hands, taking your time to lather up the pear scented soap. You finish up, drying with the soft hand towel, and face the door. You open it reluctantly and step into the doorway.  

“Hey, Gwen said you ran up here. I thought... I thought maybe you left,” he says. “Pizza not agree with you?” 

“I told you, pizza’s good,” you shrug, “but...” you look around the walls; framed pictures of him and his aunt. “I need to go.” 

“What? You only just got here,” he steps away from the wall. 

You shake your head and look at the floor. You don’t like to argue. You don’t want to make him mad and the best way to avoid that is to just go away. 

“Please don’t leave,” he says. 

“I...” your voice creaks and your hug yourself, flicking your lashes against another prickly wave of tears, “I don’t belong here.” 

“What? Who—Did someone say that?” 

You shake your head. 

“Tell me what happened. You were just having fun with Ned, I was hoping we might get to race so why are you running away?” 

“I don’t know,” you murmur. 

“I’m not going to stop you. If you don’t want to be here but I want you here. So if you think you don’t belong, that’s bullshit,” he says. 

You chew your lip and rub your neck, your other hand tight on your elbow. You sway nervously and stare at the floor. You nod. 

“You wanna get some air or something?” He offers and reaches for you. You recoil and hit the door frame. “Woah, sorry, I wasn’t--” 

“No, it’s... you surprised me,” you steady yourself. “I’m sorry.” 

He raises his hand then drops it, “no, it’s...” he shakes his head, “it’s all good. So, you wanna go outside, cool off?” 

You shrug, “sure.” 

He smiles and waves you ahead of him. You trace your way back to the main hall but he stops you with your name, “left. Let’s go out back.” 

“Oh,” you redirect and head to the back door nestled behind the kitchen.  

You step outside in your socks, the patio stone keeping you mostly clean as you pace around aimlessly at the bottoms of the cement stairs. Peter follows and sits on the wicker seat against the wall. He stretches his neck out and raises his arms up. 

“Ugh, it’s nice out,” he sits back as he lowers his arms, “want a seat?” 

“I’m... okay,” you bit your thumb and shuffle this way and that. Your stomach brews with anxiety. You want to ask but you don’t want him to laugh at you. Not like they did. 

“I know my friends can be a bit much,” he says. “Ned didn’t get all weird about Darth Maul, did he?” 

“No,” you shake your head and make a face at him. “I don’t know what that is.” 

“Wow,” his brows pop up, “that’s...” he touches his chest, “you don’t know who Darth Maul is?” 

You blink and frown, “should I?” 

“One day,” he assures with a grin, “I’ll guide you in the jedi ways.” 

Your eyes search the sky and brick siding. He chuckles. 

“Did...” you begin and swallow back the question. You mull it on your tongue and slant your lips, “did you say I’m your girlfriend?” 

His mouth opens then closes. His cheeks tinge and he looks down at his lap. His tongue pokes in his cheek as he examines his hands. He lets out another snort. 

“Yeah,” he keeps his eyes averted guiltily, “um, they said so, didn’t they?” 

“They asked.” 

He sighs, “I did. I’m sorry. I... it was a silly lie.” 

“Right,” you nod. It’d have to be silly. He wouldn’t want you like that. 

“Not that I wouldn’t-- that I don’t--” he lets out another breath, “I don’t know what to say. I was trying to impress them, I guess.” 

“Impress... your friends?” 

“You know, they tease me about it. Girls,” he pushes his shoulders. 

“So you brought me here to prove them wrong,” you deflate. 

“No, I... you make it sound like I’m using you or something. I invited you because we’re friends, right? I just... I just lied to them, not you.” 

“It’s okay,” you sniff, “I’m used to it.” 

“Please, don’t think--” he struggles to speak. He stands, “I lied because I wanted it to be true.” 

Your brows draw together and you look down at him, shying away, “please, you don’t have to--” 

“I’m not lying. Not this time,” he giggles nervously and rubs his cheek, “I got a little crush, but it’s totally cool. We don’t have to...” his chest rises and falls shallowly as his cheeks pinken, “we can just ignore that. If you don’t feel the same, then that’s... chill.” 

You stare at him, your mouth slightly open. You close it and tear your eyes away from him. Your heart is racing. It feels like another joke but he seems so genuine. 

“I don’t... know?” You utter. 

“You don’t know... how you feel?” He prompts. 

“I guess,” you sniff, “I’m... I’m not sure.” 

“Like I said, let’s just be friends,” he insists, “come on, back to the party. Please. You can ignore me, you can do whatever, but please don’t ditch me. If you do, they’ll never let me live it down.” 

You stare across the yard. What can you do? You feel like you owe him at least that. Even if he lied, he invited you, he’s fed you, he’d been nice. It’s just one night. 

“Okay,” you agree. 

[moon-buggg]

How do you think they'd react if Sun and Moon had to have a replacement while Y/N is out sick?

- 🍓 (Immm back :3 I cant resist this haunted house au... literally my favorite.)

Honestly the haunt can operate fine without yn around. Yn only joins one or two groups in a day, the rest of the time they act as a more traditional scare actor which isn't at all necessary to the experience.

Buuuut assuming a more long term sick leave from like, needing surgery or something, I don't think they would take it that well. Aside from just missing you, the boys work well with you. Like a well oiled machine that suddenly has to be completely reassembled. You're the first scare actor that really seems to trust them not to actually hurt you, and lacking that trust and chemistry makes it hard to perform at their best. I think they both revert to old habits that may or may not have been the cause for high turnover before you got hired.

Sun's perfectionism gets the better of him. Sure, he can be a bit harsh with you, but he's downright vicious with your replacement. Nothing they do is enough to live up to his expectations and it's extremely frustrating for everyone involved. It wouldn't surprise me if the haunt went through a couple of replacements because of his criticism.

Sun is positively over the moon (lol) when you finally return! You're going to hear aaall about how dreadful your replacement was, and he's going to be extremely physically affectionate. The whole experience has absolutely cemented your place as his favourite victim

Moon is... a bit rougher with your replacement than he strictly should be. Any bruises or sore shoulders from his rough handling are rationalized away, he simply isn't used to the stranger yet. The harmless little pranks he pulled on you(moving your belongings slightly, sneaking up on you) get just a tad creepier (stealing, purposefully scaring). It's entirely obvious from his demeanor that the newcomer is Not welcome.

Upon your return, the only indication you'll get that Moon missed you is that he lingers. Like he's trying to make up for lost time.

[cerastes]

One of the fundamental aspects that helps carry Bocchi as such a genuine article is that Bocchi herself is at neither extreme of the competence scale.

In a lot of these “Main Character has immense insecurity issues and social anxiety”, you have a main character that REALLY doesn’t have anything going for them except their ‘pure heart’ (they are kind to others and that’s it) or they are actually a huge wellspring of untapped potential that just needs that little extra push in order to flourish.

There’s positive messages to be gleaned from these, for sure, like “sometimes being yourself is enough” and “you are so incredible, you just don’t know it, you can do anything”, which, while definitely something that can be That Event or Realization that helps someone overcome something, I think ultimately fails to account for the, perhaps, more worldly, more realists out there that don’t need to hear that for the one hundredth time, because the previous ninety nine times didn’t really do it for them, kind of how like “fake it till you make it” works for a lot of people, but also doesn’t for a lot of others.

If anything, I think one could glean something else from this: Unless I’m naturally a very kind person who’s always willing to put themselves down to get others over and can show genuine heartwarming kindness, or a genius waiting to bloom, just so incredibly good and skilled at something or various things that that cements my worth, I’m shit out of luck. And let’s face it, extreme purity is more of a negative in the real world than a positive, because people will kind of just walk all over you if you let them, plus you’re likely not a lot of fun if all you got going for you is “I’m Nice :)” without something else to compliment it, like being funny, knowing interesting things, etc. On the other side of the table, it is ultimately a very utilitarian view to consider someone awkward, eccentric, and otherwise different likeable only because they are incredibly good at something or some things, a Rudolf the Reindeer situation where his red nose makes him an ostracized freak right up until it’s actually useful for others and has a practical application.

It’s here where I think Bocchi subtly nails it: She’s at neither end of the stick. Bocchi’s only real skill to speak of is that she’s good at playing the guitar, but that’s because she’s actually been diligently playing for years now, has a successful ‘Tube channel, and explicitly enjoys playing the guitar both as a hobby and as a pressure valve; one of the early gags is that when overwhelmed with negative thoughts, she’d channel that right into composing a melody to play with her guitar, which she abandons after a few episodes when she’s a bit more comfortable with the people around her. Besides that, it’s explicit that Bocchi isn’t particularly good at other things, and we know she’s kind of ‘creepy’ in the endearing, eager way, the photos thing with her room being less that she’s a maniac and more that she’s very very stoked to have friends, for example, which she then reigns in when her mom tells her “hey, sweetie, that ain’t it”.

Everything Bocchi does is ultimately very consistent with who she is presented to be: She doesn’t just magically do a 180 turn just because she’s technically doing everything she set out to do, Bocchi is still a naturally anxious, negative person, and that’s fine, and her friends aren’t oblivious to her being like this (the gang being oblivious to the MC’s anxiety is a recurring thing in the genre!), in fact, they are fully aware and many times they say “oh is Bocchi having a Moment again?” or “ok I know where to find her, we need to look in a place where creatures like Bocchi, such as slugs, can be found”, they are fully aware that Bocchi is like that, but they like her anyways because, much like the audience, they think she’s fun to be around. Her being a good guitarist isn’t even why they stick by her, since she was actually bad at playing guitar with a band initially, only adjusting later, but even during this period before she adjusted, the rest of the band is like “oh no yeah this our guitarist Bocchi and we love her, she turns into a creature now and then and gets attacked by birds for no reason and it’s really funny, we’re going to store love in her”.

Bocchi isn’t exceptional in either a pathetic or successful way, she’s just Bocchi and she has friends that she likes and that she likes, and in the end it’s not really about “fixing” her as much as it is just making the band work out and having a good time while seeing that through. The only ones you could say are out to truly make sure Bocchi has a great opinion of herself are Kita and Kikuri, the former because that’s just how she is, and given how loving she is, she would like for Bocchi to see herself as someone actually cool and funny, the way she sees her, and the latter because Kikuri herself used to be pretty negative and never really got through it properly, relying on heavy alcohol binging instead to get in a good state of mind, and initially really wanted Bocchi to just enjoy playing music as an artform regardless of her skill.

All of this helps the dynamics feel not like we’re supposed to be backing a bland MC that is less a main character and more a vehicle to see the cooler rest of the cast, not like a Rudolf the Reindeer situation, but instead, helps it feel like we’re just seeing people that like being friends, being friends and hyping each other up or messing with each other because that’s what pals do.

[i321u]

SUDDEN SHOWER. ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

anton lee is the only boy osaki yn will ever love. she'll make sure of that.

one. interstellar

words : 1.8k warnings : death mentions, grief, panic but not fully a panic attack.

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You groan, hands trying to hold onto the burning cement underneath you. It's a waking call the moment your nails— usually short, now quite long and sturdy— grind against the floor and you shiver. It feels like you've been hit with a basketball.

"Uh," a voice takes you out of your misery. Not really, but it serves as a distraction. "Is everything okay?"

Before your eyes, you can see a face you hadn't seen in months. He looks younger, like there's less weight on his shoulders.

Park Wonbin looks great. Only, he's staring at you like he's worried you might break, which means you probably don't look as good.

You nod, a little dumbfounded. Last time you heard from Wonbin, he had gone back to his dark hair and was teaching a dance class all the way in LA. You were proud of him for following his dreams; despite four years of university, he became a professional dancer with ease.

Still, you have missed him, so you let him help you up.

"Thank you," You rub your eyes, taking in your surroundings. It's sunny, and the campus you had left behind a few months ago stands tall before you. You blink as confusion sweeps through your body and takes hold of you. "What the hell..."

Wonbin, always a worrier, leans toward you. "Is something wrong? Does something hurt? I can get someone from health—"

"No! No, it's fine," you reply. "Thank you, anyway. I think I just hit my head, maybe."

"What? Then I definitely need to get someone from health," he rambles. "Wait here!"

He turns, ready to head over to wherever health is. Something paints itself inside your head: your freshman year orientation week, and the moment Sungchan introduced you to your boyfriend and his roommate. The way that simple moment turned your life around.

Nothing makes sense, and if you squint a little, you're almost sure you can see Intak in the distance.

"I'm okay! I swear," you call, but he doesn't stop. "Park Wonbin!"

That gets him. He stops, tilts his head before turning around. As he walks closer, his phone lights up on his hand, and the date screams at you. Red lights.

It makes no sense.

"How do you know my name?" Wonbin asks. Your mind is stuck on the date, though. "Oh my God, are you a stalker or something?"

"What? No!"

"Then how..." he trails off, like he's suddenly realized something. "You're Shotaro's sister! Oh, does he talk about me? Is that why you know me? I remember we ran into each other last year, when you were visiting! I panicked for a second."

You mumble, hoping he won't hear: "How do you talk so much, seriously..."

"So, what does he say?"

Your phone starts ringing in your pocket, a song you've always had for your brother as a ringtone. You grab the device, surprised at the way it feels so unnatural in your hand. It's been a while since you've held this model. With a grimace, you show the caller to Wonbin.

SHOTARO 🦇🌟, it reads. Wonbin smiles and lets you walk a few steps away.

"Hello?"

"Yah, your boyfriend is bothering me," Shotaro says as a greeting. You frown.

"What?"

"Dongmin is following me around, asking where you are."

In the background, you can hear a boy go: "My name is Taesan!"

Taesan, it sinks. Oh my God, Taesan. He switched universities before your third year, and you haven't heard from him since. His voice makes a knot appear in your throat.

"I'll be there in a second," you manage to say. "Tell him I miss him."

Shotaro fake gags. "I am not doing all that."

You laugh, but don't force him. Shotaro hangs up, and when you look at the phone, the same date from Wonbin's screen stares back at you: September 2024. You feel dizzy, but you don't let yourself process it. Instead, you go back to Wonbin and grab your backpack from the floor.

"My friends are looking for me," you let him know. "Thank you for helping, really."

He smiles. "My pleasure! Anything for Shotaro's little sister."

With a slight bow, you hurry towards the place of meeting you had assembled with your friends during the first week of university. It stood in place until your graduation. They're there, speaking to each other. Intak is coming from the other side, throwing an arm around Gyuvin and smiling big at his friends he left behind for a second.

They look well. Taesan looks well.

You start running.

"Taesan!" You call, your eyes filling with tears. You don't know if it's happiness or melancholy. Still, the moment he turns around, you throw yourself into his unprepared arms and send both of you to the floor.

By now, you're sure this is a very elaborate dream. Shotaro's still living in that old dorm building with Sungchan and Eunseok, and you can smell the food the moment you go inside. Eunseok is half sitting, half laying on the couch, watching old reruns of Running Man on the TV.

"YN!" Sungchan calls from the kitchen. It's an open floorplan, so you've got a great view of him wearing a KISS THE CHEF apron over his pajamas. The smile takes over on its own. "My mom dropped us food, and she made your favorite. I'm convinced she thinks your birthday is every month."

"She just likes me," you reply. "Maybe more than she likes you?"

Sungchan frowns, swinging the wooden spoon he's using to stir the food, and Shotaro moves you out of the way before sauce can get on you.

"Don't be a child, Chan."

"She started!"

You giggle. It feels so real, way too real. You let yourself sink into the dream as Shotaro guides you to the couch, settling against the armrest and letting you sit beside Eunseok, who pulls you closer to him. You have to fight the laugh as you catch the glare your brother sends his way.

"What do you wanna watch?" Eunseok asks, letting you get comfortable against him. "You're clingy, Jesus."

"You hugged me first," you retort. "Can we watch Interstellar?"

Your boyfriend's favorite movie is leaving your lips before you even realize. Shotaro shoves you a little, further into Eunseok's arms.

"You hate that movie," he says.

It's sort of true. You don't hate it— never did— but... it was never your taste until your boyfriend forced you to watch it almost every weekend. Then, it became something that wasn't about the movie but rather about him. If this is a dream, you'll let yourself really sink into pleasure.

Eunseok puts on the movie, and you silently watch the beginning with slightly teary eyes. At some point, Sungchan brings food to the living room table and you all sit around it, chewing on tteokbokki and letting Shotaro feed you samgyeopsal. The atmosphere is warm, cozy.

You feel at home.

"Today I'm the age you were when you left..." the TV is speaking, but it has become static over your ears. You remember the first time you watched this scene with your boyfriend, letting him lean into you as he teared up.

Most of all, you remember giggling at him and calling him baby. For the first time, you called him baby.

"What did you call me?" Anton had said through the tears. His voice was tight, but he was smiling. "Say it again, please."

"I called you your name," you tease.

"No! Say it again, please."

He'd been looking at you like a puppy, overexcited and so happy it ached. You laughed louder. "Okay, baby."

Then, Anton had hugged you so tight you couldn't breathe. "I'm your baby? Yeah, I am. Of course I am."

"God, are you talking to yourself again?"

You blink, standing up too quickly. The three boys that surround you startle, and they just watch as you run into the hallway that leads to their rooms and lock yourself into the first one. You've forgotten which room is whose, but you think this is Sungchan's: it's got the basketball trophies, and the pictures of him and his family.

There's a knock on the door. Shotaro's voice comes through. "YN? Are you okay?"

You don't reply. If this is a dream, you think. It's time to wake up. Closing your eyes tight, you cling to your thighs until it burns. Once I open my eyes, I'll be back in Shotaro's room, and I'll be older than I've ever been. You do: you open your eyes, but you find yourself still in Sungchan's senior year room.

You start panicking. It's hard to tell where the panic came from, but it takes over within seconds. Images of the last time you were awake start flashing by: the hospital, the river. Anton, Anton, Anton. 3:45. You throw your jacket off and on the floor beside you, hearing the way something in your pocket clangs against the wooden planks.

With shaky hands, you sink your hand into the right pocket of your jacket. There, nestled between receipts and a packet of tissues, lays a watch. You take it out.

It's cracked exactly where Anton's watch had been last night, and the metal is scratched in the same places. It reads 3:39, like the world is messing with you. It tells you the watch died before he did.

You let out a sob.

"YN, I'm coming in." Eunseok's voice drags into the room from underneath the door. "Okay? I just need to make sure you're alright."

"Mhm," you hum. It's weak, but you believe he heard, because he comes inside. Carefully, he walks towards your shaking body, and he drops beside you. "Is this a dream?"

"Huh?"

"This? Is it a dream?" You repeat yourself. "It has lasted for so long."

Eunseok looks worried. "This isn't a dream, YN."

You look at the watch, broken exactly how it had been last night. You feel the weight of him leaving your side crash against your shoulders, and you regret ever letting him leave your bed that morning.

"Hey, a kid in our floor has the same one," he points to the watch. Eunseok is clearly trying to distract you from your rising panic. "He said he got it in—"

"— in New York," you finish for him. "He got it in New York, yeah?"

Eunseok makes a noise of agreement. "Do you know him? His name is Lee Chanyoung, but he goes by Anton."

"Seok," you whisper. He hums, and you pinch your arm before saying the next sentence. It hurts. "I think I'm in the past."

taglist ( open! ) : @tocupid @yyangj3lly

( ... 💥 ) okay! i have to set the scene, so the first two chapters are sort of... connected. they happen one after the other. let me know what u think of my writing... also not all chapters will be like this! some will be fully social media, i just need to lay down the grounds to work over.

i321u © 2024.

[doki-doki-imagines]

author note: @kenruu told me this idea couldn't stay in the dms and I wrote it. I'm really sad thanks to uni so I can't really say if this is good or not. Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy it.

Sae is a man with a precise objective, being the best midfielder in the world. “It’s simple” Sae thinks, he has the talent, works hard, it’s obvious he’ll be able to do it, and his mind never wavers. Football is his whole world, his only thought.

Then Sae met you, and it’s not like his world changed, he kept training and winning, just, this time, in a little chink of his brain you started to grow, filling that little space with info of you.

“They would like this” “If they saw this their reaction would be so cute” it doesn’t happen often to be thinking of you, but when it does a dumb smile plaster on his face.

Until it’s not a seldom thought, but it becomes relentless, a thrum he can’t brush away, and honestly? Sae wants to vomit.

Sae hates it, every time he imagines your face his chest roar, and he can hear the blood rushing to his face, every time he thinks he’s gonna pass out like a fool on the ground.

At first, it was something happening only inside the closed door of his mansion, maybe you sent him a cute video or just told him about your day and Sae was fine with this; he can look like a dumbass fool in his own house, but not on the field.

Sae can’t stop thinking of you, football isn’t his main objective anymore and for the first time he feels weak, football is his entire life, he is nothing without that; damn chink and damn your smile, your cute face your fucking entire being.

And it doesn’t matter how many times the red hair hits his head against the cement wall of the stadium, hits it hard enough to break skin and leave blood, he can’t get you out of his mind.

“Sae, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but if you want to play the next match you need to pull your shit together.” His coach told him after the umpteenth missed cross.

Breath gets stuck in his throat, Sae feels like he just got stabbed in the heart; he must put a stop to this situation.

“Get out!”

“I’m coming Sae, did something happen?”

This is why he is now in front of your house, 3 hours before the match starts with blood in his eyes, and fists tight on his sides.

“Tell me you hate me.” Your eyes widened, this looks serious.

“Sae you know it isn’t-“

“I’m in love with you and- Shut up! Don’t you dare open your mouth, let me finish-“ He has his teeth bared, index finger up pointing at you “And you have to reject me, I can’t go on like this.”

It’s like a cold shower, for sure not what you expected to hear on a normal Thursday afternoon.

You keep your lips sealed, you can see in his irises a little quiver, but he keeps looking at you straight in the eyes, his index now down, hand moving like he wants to throw something on the ground, maybe a thought he preferred to scrap instead of voicing it.

“Please, I need you to reject me” He shuts his eyes, and curl his nose in his typical disgusted expression, you notice small tears hanging on his reddish lashes now rolling down his cheeks, bottom lip wounded, red by the incessant bit of his canine.

You never saw him so desperate, so vulnerable, if you listened closely you could hear cracks every time he tried to speak up.

“Are you even listening to me” Sae's voice is harsh, as always, but there is no bite in his words. You take a step closer and constrain every muscle of your body to stay there, don’t move.

Crack.

“I need to concentrate on football, there is my entire life at risk here-“ A sigh breaks his phrase, and you feel your heart cracking “I-I don’t want to like you anymore” he brushes his little fringe back, arms moving around and feet moving back and forth without making a real step; he looks so nervous.

Crack.

Your breath itch, you feel your heart in your throat, not because of his words, but for how desperate he sounded; you don’t want to hear him like this ever again.

You get closer.

“Fuck, say something! Don’t just look at me with those dumb puppy-” You sprint, your hands reach his jaw, your fingertips are so soft and Sae's lips change into an ugly, wobbly grimace, eyebrows furrowed.

Your lips press on his, it’s fast and delicate, if he closed his eyes he wouldn’t have seen it. You pull away, but don’t put space between your bodies, lips a whisper away from each other.

“I’ll be the one-“ one of your hand leave his jaw to brush away some red hair that sticks on his cheek “to bring you to victory, let me work my magic” He is looking at you dumbfound, his irises wobbly.

You kiss him again, but this time you grip the back of his hair to push him into a more forceful kiss.

Crack. He feels like something in his heart break, everything hurt and his hands tingle so much they hurt. Something must have been broken.

Sae this time reciprocates with equal, if not even more, passion, his hands finally find peace on your back, low on your back, pushing your body impossibly close to his.

You break the kiss, breath heavy a string of saliva still connects your mouths, you are fast at removing it.

“Go and win that match.”

Sae nods, a dumb smile plaster on his face, but you can barely see it as he laid his head on your shoulder. He kisses you again, just a simple press of lips, and runs back towards the stadium, new life on his legs reinvigorated more than ever.

“Maybe loving you and football can coexist in my head” He thinks.

For sure that night your magic did work.