#and looking at it like that it suddenly makes sense why there is such thorough research put into this

[zenruu]

A Needlessly Thorough Analysis of What Hardening Actually Means for Alistair

You can also read this analysis in a Google Doc if you find that format more palatable: here.

(I do recommend desktop for the comfiest viewing in either case, but both should be serviceable.)

Disclaimer: If critical discussion of a character’s feelings, motivations, and reactions to certain in-game choices could be personally upsetting to you, maybe don’t read this. None of this analysis is me judging you/your choices as a player, I am simply looking through the lens of Alistair’s characterization and the in-universe consequences of choices. Of course this analysis will be colored by my own bias, it’s inevitable. I can’t realistically include every potentially relevant line of dialogue, but I’m always happy to discuss if you think there’s something crucial I left out.

Hardened Alistair is often described as learning to stand up for himself and becoming more assertive, but why? Is it an accurate assessment? Even Alistair himself reacts to the hardening dialogue by saying he’s going to start thinking for himself and looking out for himself more, so surely it’s true… right?

To the contrary, I would actually argue that hardened Alistair tends to put others before himself more than unhardened Alistair. Let’s start by looking at how he becomes hardened.

The Hardening Process

After meeting Goldanna, Alistair is understandably devastated to find that the family he’s been dreaming of his whole life is not what he had hoped. He’s just been yelled at and turned away by the sister he’s never met, the only family he’s ever had a chance of knowing. He’s lost his hope at finding that sense of connection and belonging he’s always been looking for.

If the Warden wants to harden Alistair, they need to tell him, “Everyone is out for themselves. You should learn that.”

The message being sent is basically: suck it up, move on, grow up. This is the way the world is. Stop being so idealistic.

The message Alistair seems to receive, however, is a bit more complicated. In the follow-up conversation after meeting Goldanna, Alistair tells you that his takeaway from the hardening dialogue was that he needs to look out for himself more. This is, obviously, perfectly in line with the common belief that hardened Alistair is more assertive and more willing to stand up for himself.

But is that the reality that we see reflected in hardened Alistair’s choices?

Pre-hardening, Alistair tells you many times that he feels like no one cares what he wants; he believes it’s unfair and openly complains about it. Hardened Alistair, however, knows that no one cares what he wants and he accepts that as the way things are and must be. Unhardened Alistair will freely say he doesn’t want to be king and fights against it until he can fight it no more, while hardened Alistair will accept it, even going as far as to say he wants it.

Why would he change so suddenly from saying it’s his worst nightmare to saying he wants it? Does he mean it fully? Is this truly him seeking to fulfill his own wants and meet his own needs?

What actually changes if he’s hardened?

he is seemingly less reluctant about becoming king

if romanced, he will agree to a threesome with Isabela

he will agree to make you his mistress if you push the topic

if not married to Anora and chosen to fight Loghain, he will execute Loghain and take the throne

if not chosen to fight Loghain, he will insist on being made king

if married to Anora, he will become king instead of being exiled if Loghain is spared (Alistair will still leave your party, however)

he will approve of executing Jowan in Redcliffe

With the idea of “hardened Alistair putting his own wants/needs first” in mind let’s break them down one by one:

Note: some lines of dialogue have flags for “hardened”/“changed”, alternatively referred to as Alistair’s motivation being changed from “good to glory” or “Alistair 2”. These all refer to the hardening mechanic. The screenshots do have text that’s a bit small, because I wanted to be sure that I included the flags that show when lines are exclusive to hardened Alistair.

Less reluctance about becoming king

All along he’s said he doesn’t want it. You could potentially make a case that he didn’t truly feel that way and was only saying it because he’s insecure (which he is), but I don’t find this to be a terribly compelling argument. 

This is hardened Alistair’s response to being told he would be a good king after he’s decided to sacrifice himself. There are several lines like this that I feel contradict the theory that unhardened Alistair only says he doesn’t want to be king because he’s insecure in his abilities. It’s not that his insecurities are not a factor, it’s that hardening him doesn’t get rid of those things, meaning that this factor alone would not change his attitude about accepting potential kingship. In fact, he still believes that realistically Anora is better suited.

I’d argue that someone who has consistently said one thing without fail and is now only changing the tune after basically being told to shut up and grow up may not be expressing their truest desires. He is going along with what Eamon is telling him, with what the Warden is telling him, with what he’s told is his duty and responsibility. For the greater good, not for himself.

And you might be saying that can’t be true, hardened Alistair says he wants to be king!

Personally, I’d argue that Alistair saying he wants to be king is much the same as your average person saying they want a job. Do most people want to go to work every day? No, not really, but you have to because it’s just what you need to do. So when asked, you’d say you want a job. Of course you would, because you have to have one. But removed from that necessity, would you still say the same? Likely not. I believe the same holds true for Alistair. If he wasn’t being told at every turn that him being king is what must be done, he wouldn’t feel a need to bow to that.

Hardened Alistair confidently wanting to be king is often accepted as plain fact, when it’s really not so cut and dry. We can dig into some of his dialogue and really look at his feelings on the matter.

Hardened Alistair is saying he wants to be king. Even he’s surprised by it. But what is the context of this line? He’s about to sacrifice himself. He believes that his sacrifice–not living to rule–is the single best thing he can do as king.

But is it pure happiness and willingness, or is it a man simply trying to make the best of a situation he’s locked into? I vote for the latter.

I often see the argument that having a Warden queen would make him happier with the idea of being king, but by all evidence it really doesn’t seem to be the case. Here is his response to the Warden confirming that she does want to be queen. Alistair still doesn’t like the idea of ruling. This isn’t a line exclusive to hardened Alistair, he will always have this line available.

“I wouldn’t be in this position if it weren’t for you” … “you owe me” … Even hardened, Alistair seems to see being king as something negative being thrust upon him. A punishment, perhaps? What would his response be to being told that being king is not a punishment?

On the surface, he agrees, but take a look at that VO comment for his actual feelings on it. He does consider it a punishment. This is indeed a line for hardened Alistair, as it occurs during the mistress conversation, which is a hardened Alistair exclusive.

Even if hardened, Alistair would prefer to stay a Warden if he can.

And if you don’t make hardened Alistair king? He’s grateful. Happy. Happier.

Agreeing to a threesome

Unhardened or hardened, he will push back when you suggest this. However, only hardened Alistair will relent and agree to it. Unhardened Alistair will simply refuse. Which one sounds more like someone standing up for his own wants?

This is the path the conversation goes if Alistair is hardened. His initial refusal and discomfort with the situation remains, but if you tell him to go along, he will.

He is, regardless, clearly not as comfortable with the situation as one should be. It certainly isn’t the kind of enthusiastic consent one would look for when asking someone to engage in a particular sex act. But he had fun, so it’s okay, right?

Well… did he have fun? Isabela jokes about borrowing him in the future and it seems quite clear that he isn’t interested in a repeat occurrence. Not only is he not interested, he’s awkward, uncomfortable. “Oh, but he makes a joke about wet frocks right after this!” He does. But it’s Alistair. He’s constantly making jokes to mask his discomfort.

Agreeing to making the Warden his mistress

Again, he will push back on this at first, only relenting if he’s hardened and you push the issue. If unhardened, he’ll stand by his original statement that he feels it would be wrong. Is he just saying he believes it’s wrong, or is that what he truly believes? Based on what we know of Alistair, I’d say it’s far more likely that he truly does find the idea of making the Warden his mistress to be disrespectful both to the Warden and to his wife, and that he is somewhat disregarding his own beliefs on that to bend to the Warden’s insistence that he take a mistress.

Whether he’s marrying Anora or not, his views on the matter are the same. He intends to be loyal to whoever he marries, and he knows he cannot do so if he continues the relationship with the Warden.

It’s clear that he finds the entire idea distasteful.

Much like the threesome, you do have to press him to get him to agree. He’s quite set in his beliefs on the matter, but he will acquiesce if the Warden pushes it.

Insisting on becoming king in the context of dealing with Loghain

These are the choices where I’d say there is potentially a case to be made that Alistair is making the decision he wants to make. However, I wouldn’t say that the decision being made is that he wants to be king. I would argue that becoming king is simply a means to an end to give him the power to get revenge in the way he wants.

In the first potential scenario here, Alistair will insist on being made king if he is not chosen to fight Loghain. Why? He wants Loghain dead, and he isn’t being given the choice to make that happen. He wants the power to make that choice, all else be damned.

Here you can see that hardened Alistair insists on taking the throne while making it abundantly clear that the reason for doing so is to take care of Loghain in the manner he wants.

Unhardened Alistair does the same. Why? Because the motivation remains the same whether he’s hardened or not. Unhardened Alistair simply hasn’t become so resigned as to pretend he’s any less displeased with it than he is.

In the second potential scenario, Alistair is chosen to fight Loghain and kills him. He finally achieves the goal he’s been working towards all along: getting his revenge on Loghain. He’s running on that high when Eamon immediately suggests he take the throne, he says yes, he’ll do it. There’s not really anything to break down dialogue-wise in this scenario, as his acceptance of the throne is the exact same dialogue as it would be in any other case. He simply says he accepts when it’s proposed.

Is it what he truly wants? Maybe. You could make a case for it. However, I interpret it more as running on that adrenaline high, feeling powerful and not fully thinking it over in the moment.

Accepting being king & marrying Anora if Loghain is spared

Alistair has been tunnel visioned on getting his revenge on Loghain the entire time, and this is the only circumstance in which sparing Loghain will not result in Alistair leaving and becoming a drunk. He both accepts marrying Anora (which he isn’t happy about) and sparing Loghain (which is very counter to his wishes).

He doesn’t like Anora and doesn’t want to marry her, but he does anyway. Hardened Alistair knows that marrying Anora is politically advantageous and prioritizes that over his personal desire to enact his vengeance, though he makes it clear to the Warden that his personal feelings on the matter have absolutely not changed.

Hardened Alistair goes along with marrying Anora after Loghain is spared and leaves the party, unhappy with the Warden’s choice to spare Loghain. If this line alone didn’t make his displeasure clear enough, there’s also this one:

He refers to the Warden’s actions as a betrayal. He’s obviously not happy.

Unhardened Alistair, however, stands his ground and refuses.

Approving of executing Jowan

Another case of a changed tune to go along with what the Warden is doing. Unhardened Alistair actively disapproves of the Warden executing Jowan. We could assume that hardened Alistair is just more pragmatic, or perhaps simply more willing to accept it when the Warden tells him this is what must be done.

There is no Alistair specific dialogue to look at here, just the approval points, so it’s really just a matter of looking at what we know of him and the situation. I would say in general Alistair values life and values mercy. Are there exceptions? Yes. Loghain, for example, whose crimes Alistair has judged worthy of death. Clearly unhardened Alistair does not feel that way about Jowan. Hardened Alistair though? He approves of his execution, but is it because he personally thinks it’s best or is it because he accepts the Warden’s judgment?

I would argue that it’s the latter primarily because it’s completely in line with everything else we’ve seen from hardened Alistair. There really are just no solid cases of hardened Alistair asserting his own will when compared to unhardened Alistair, so I don’t see this case as being any different.

In Review

In each case of behaviors changed by hardening Alistair, we see him putting his own wants and needs on the backburner in favor of an externally imposed sense of duty or to bend to another’s will because he accepts that his personal feelings are irrelevant. I’d go as far as to say that hardening is really a misnomer, because what we’re really looking at would be better called resignation.

I actually didn’t include every single line I found of hardened Alistair expressing the sentiments I’ve laid out in this analysis because I didn’t want it to be too long, but there is more in the game. Now I will get into less concrete analysis and a bit more of an explanation of my own personal opinions on hardening.

Aside from looking at what hardening actually means for Alistair, we can also question its necessity. Do you need to do it if you want to do certain things in Origins (threesome, mistress ending, etc.)? Yes. But I often see people argue that hardening Alistair is necessary for him to grow or mature as a person, and I completely disagree.

My personal opinion is that hardening Alistair is neither necessary nor kind.

In terms of helping Alistair to grow as a person, I maintain that Alistair will become more naturally “hardened”, or more accurately, he will mature on his own if you give him the chance to do so. Why do I say so? Look at Alistair in Inquisition. That is not the same idealistic young man we see in Origins, and this remains true regardless of hardening status. Whether it’s Warden Alistair or King Alistair, he’s clearly grown and changed.

Sure, you can mod the game to make the hardening dialogue more palatable, but that’s an entirely different discussion. As is, you’re required to essentially kick him when he’s down, and I simply do not find it to be necessary for his own personal development.

If it’s not already completely obvious by me doing all of this in the first place, I really, really love Alistair. Of course I’m quite settled and happy as an unhardened Warden Alistair truther, but I’m always happy to discuss and debate. I’m very interested in any thoughts you might have, whether you agree with my assessment or not (as long as you’re nice).

Thank you for reading my (almost sickeningly thorough) little analysis if you made it this far!

As a treat (or unhardened Warden Ali propaganda depending on your perspective), here's my Warden, miss Neria Surana with her very happy unhardened Warden husband:

[arminsumi]

Hey! Could I request a soft fluffy Gojo where he finds out reader is pregnant and he’s over the moon excited and can barely contain himself? Seeing the Gojo crumbs got me feeling all soft for him.

PREGNANT

★ Note : ah i savored the gojo crumbs!! 🥹💗 missing that pineapple head sm.

★ Warnings : some suggestive jokes

"Sooo... I bought you a pregnancy test."

You laugh at him like he's being ridiculous, like this is a total over-reaction to you having just one instance of morning nausea that didn't even last very long.

Satoru has some weird sixth sense when it comes to you. If you're not feeling well, he knows it before you even say anything. Like this morning, when you sat up in bed in a strange way, he blinked awake and mumbled "Baby, what is it?" knowing in his chest you must feel sick. And sure enough, you were sick.

Albeit not for long — Satoru still soothed your back with his hands and gave you a thorough massage until the nausea went away.

He joked, "Are you pregnant?" while he massaged you. But that weird sixth sense told him that you were really pregnant.

After your nausea subsided, he went out to buy you every necessity he could think of. You know, pads and tampons of all sizes because he has no idea which one you actually prefer and he also has no idea why there are so many variations. So he dumped a pile of period necessities on your desk and you laughed at how he did it.

Then he unexpectedly whipped out a pregnancy test package and tapped you lightly on the shoulder with it.

"Satoru, I'm pretty sure I'm not pregnant."

"But I feel like you are." he replies suspiciously. "I mean look at you... you're glowin' like a goddess. C'mon, just take the test."

"Okay, fine — but I'm telling you, I don't feel pregnant."

You took the pregnancy test and rolled your eyes while waiting. Satoru waited outside the bathroom like an excited puppy and nearly pawed at the door to be let in, but you absolutely refused to let him watch you pee on the pregnancy test.

So he spoke through the bathroom door;

"Sooo are you pregnant or do I have to take you back to the bedroom and make your eyes roll back again?"

You laughed.

"Satoru, you don't need to take me back to the bedroom for me to roll my eyes at you."

You stared down at the pregnancy test.

| |

Oh.

You opened the door of the bathroom.

When you hand him the positive test, Satoru blanks. Then his eyes light up like you've never seen them light up before.

His jaw slacks and he doesn't have any words.

You think he's frozen in place but then suddenly he reanimates himself and attacks you with kisses.

"Babyyy!" his voice cracks with excitement.

He levels his face with your tummy and hugs it, then speaks to it;

"Hey, kid. You better have your mommy's eyes."

"Satoru, you're ridiculous." you chuckle.

Satoru keeps kissing your tummy, nuzzling and hugging it. He cries a little after the initial excitement calms down. In fact he sobs. He clings to your stomach, arms wrapped tightly around it. All his attention is plastered on you and your tummy.

He calls Suguru and Shoko and Nanami in a video call and judging by the tone of his texts (VIDEO CALL NOW. IMMINENT.) they assume something dire has happened.

And then Satoru just says;

"We're pregnant."

"We?!"

Suguru hears you yell through the phone and laughs.

Nanami sighs, "Satoru, I thought something bad happened, you idiot. Congratulations."

"Mhm!" Satoru ignores Nanami's scolding and absorbs the 'congratulations' like a proud to-be father.

"I'm gonna be a dad." he keeps saying this over and over until it even gets on your nerves, so you pop into the video call to shut up your stupid husband which makes the others howl with laughter. Satoru just happily lets you shut him up, he knows he's being an obnoxious idiot. He can't help it, he's over-excited.

He is so smug about it. But underlining that smugness you see pure excitement, real true joy that Satoru can't fully express except through subtle things.

He koala-hugs his arms around your tummy and clings to you.

On the video call, everyone sees how Satoru looks at you; he has that lovey-dovey euphoric smile stuck on his face.

"Satoru, you're glowing. Are you pregnant, too?" Shoko jokes.

— ★

Later that night, Satoru rests his head on your stomach while the two of you are laid in bed.

The initial goofiness and excitement has calmed down, and he's gone silent like he's brooding.

"Do you think I'll be a good dad?" he asks seriously. He experiences a small voice crack.

Waiting for your answer makes him nervous. He fiddles with the hem of your pajamas.

"Satoru, you're going to be the best dad." you respond.

His lips curl and he begins smiling to himself and cuddling your tummy more. It's one of those rare smiles that he feels too shy to show you. Reminds you of how he used to smile at you when you flustered him in college, when he was a love sick puppy for you.

Of course, he breaks the moment with a stupid joke; "I think you moaning "daddy! daddy!" worked magic."

"Satoru!" you have to scoldingly smack him on the head with your book.

He just giggles cheekily and crawls up to snuggle your chest.

— ★

For the following week, you catch Satoru scrolling through lists of online baby names, and beaming to his students that he's gonna be a dad. Boasting as much as he possibly can to every available ear.

When he tells anyone about you being pregnant, he phrases it very carefully; "She's going to be the mother of my children." he says proudly, chin lifted a bit, smug smirk on his face that even you want to slap off.

Yeah he's so smug and annoying. Anyways, he cries when he stares at the ultrasound.

He keeps it in his wallet. He shows it to everyone. He looks at it while he's in his office at Jujutsu High.

Seeing your tummy get rounder and fuller turns Satoru into a softer man.

— ★

Satoru always greets your tummy like the baby can hear him. He talks to it every night as if he's helping Littler Gojo fall asleep, but actually his voice is putting you to sleep.

He comes up to you, cooing carefully in case you're having a mood swing, and squishes his cheek to your tummy.

And when you come out of the bedroom in the mornings looking your roughest, Satoru smiles wide and says without fail every time;

"Oh there's my mama goddess, how'd you sleep with Little Gojo's kung fu last night?"

When the baby kicks, he's always got some funny response;

"Hey, I'm the Strongest, kid."

"Don't kick. Be nice to mommy's tummy."

"Damn, this kid's trynna beat up his dad's pretty face!"

"Wow, you're gonna be a martial artist I just know it."

In fact, talking to your tummy is something Satoru loves the most.

When he gets home from a tiring day at work, he kisses you hard and then lowers himself onto his knees and greets your tummy.

"Hey kid, how's it going in there? Gettin' stronger? Good. Good. Hey I heard that! Don't talk back to me. Gosh, you're already gettin' rebellious."

"Satoru... what are you doing?"

"Talking to our baby." he replies innocently. "She's very intelligent. Just like her mommy."

"Oh is that so? I like that. She'll be as smart as mommy and as strong as daddy."

His cheeks go a bit pink.

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[philosophicalparadox]

Also, I have no idea if Miura was keeping this in the back of his head given the amount of research he did, but medieval views of homosexual behavior were…well not actually that “medieval”.

Like, yeah, the church definitely frowned on that, but the whole corporal punishment thing wasn’t really enforced even after it became a cardinal sin circa the 1280’s. It wasn’t until after the 1560’s and well into the renaissance that homosexual behavior became a Big Deal and people were intentionally killed for it. Prior, the punishment for serial sodomy (which as a legal term included things like pedophilia and BDSM in most places) was castration, which incidentally killed about half the people it was done to by way of infection. But those who survived, interestingly, were often all but forced into the Church ironically enough, often as monks or infamously choir boys,less because no one else would take them and more because they had to serve penance and if you were too poor to pay the fine, you basically became a monk or nun and toiled away the fee.

Aaaanyway back on track: The overarching view of homosexual behavior was that it was behavioral; there was no such thing at that time as a “gay” man, only a man who engaged in homosexual activity. Which many straight men did and still do selectively, I.e oral and “helping hand” type things between friends to demonstrate comraderie and/or to assert power or control over another man.

To this end, Miura did actually depict the unfortunately common practice of militaristic men “hazing” the newbies by doing sexual things to them, though raping them is an extreme example. That was a thing that happened with surprising regularity if the casualness of the few sources there are is any indication. They did this not because they were gay, but for the exact same reason frat houses haze their newbs - to establish the pecking order and display dominance, which is essential to the functioning of any military operation, but more so when your men are in a mercenary Band as opposed to a company; the former being smaller, less well organized versions of the latter, usually started by men that didn’t have the tenure to form or join a Company, which was made up almost entirely of retired knights with years of experience. Consequently Companies could be very very picky about their recruiting. Bands were less so, and often fizzled out or turned to criminal behavior because they lacked the discipline(and financial backing) of a Company. Miura depicted that element quite accurately too, with the Band of the Hawk engaging in robbery and in particular pillaging for resources. (That is the entire point of raiders by the by; their sole purpose is to raid, intimidate, and all around be jerks and thieves who dgaf about being either)

Point being, while there’s likely a correlation between Miuras personal interests and the quasi- homosexual lusting after Griffith for his androgyny, it also would not be considered unusual at all in the setting to find him attractive or want to bed him, especially given that he holds so much authority.

Part of why I think Miura threw in the jab Corkus made about Guts being a fag is to further accentuate not only Griffiths attractiveness but the implication that those feelings were not necessarily out of place for the setting. Frowned upon maybe, but not uncommon. Even in medieval times there was definitely an existing double entendre to the phrase, courtesy the aforementioned hazing behavior, implying that Guts might be using “favors” to get Griffiths approval. That he said it in public makes it feel like it leans more towards the slightly more literal archaic meaning someone who is inherently subservient (or the very literal one; fags were below pages in the order of things, so that was about as low as you could go) but that doesn’t really vibe with Guts personality or the fact he is at that point well known as a commander, (albeit maybe not to everyone) so I have to assume that what Corkus meant was intended to be suggestive, unless he was being hyperbolic in his distaste of the man - either way its an interesting addition personally, and as is the case with much of Miuras writing, very up to interpretation.

Anyway TLDR is that it wouldn’t have been remotely out of place in a realistic medieval setting (which, barring some anachronisms and typical Manga/ fantasy things, Berserks world is actually pretty accurate to the 1420’s period) for even “straight” men to find Griffith attractive or even sleep with him, for power/status reasons.

Is there any straight explanation for how a lot of men in the manga are textually thirsty for griffith? Like what was the point? And also i feel like Miura be projecting his own atracttion into it... Like he really wants to fuck him i get uncomfy sometime, idk if that makes sense

Based on at least this interview Miura did have a thing for androgyny so yeah that's likely a factor, though I don't find it uncomfortable. Who doesn't want to fuck Griffith, good for Miura if he wanted to too.

That said, it does fit the themes lol. There's no straight explanation, but imo there is an explanation that goes a little deeper than fun homoeroticism. I've discussed aspects of it before so I'll link a few things.

I have this post about people pedestalizing Griffith and how it facilitates the tragedy of the Golden Age.

This post about how Griffith is a symbol to people and his beauty reflects that.

And this post about his sexual vulnerability and how that's a major theme of his narrative wrt trauma.

Basically Griffith's attractiveness fits his narrative perfectly because his narrative is all about embodying an idealized image of himself to achieve his goals and deny his own vulnerabilty, and how that ultimately fucks him over when everyone including Guts believes that image and doesn't see the real person underneath, and results in him eventually losing everything human about himself and more literally becoming the image when he becomes NeoGriffith. And this is all tied up in trauma as well, which is also related to his beauty, eg Gennon.

Thanks for the ask!

[bekolxeram]

The sheer number of times Eddie is mentioned when Buck comes out to Maddie has been pointed out time and time again. Some take it as a sign that Buck is subconsciously in love with Eddie, some see it as foreshadowing for these two to be romantically involved in the future, while others simply think it's an Easter egg left in by writers as a nod to shippers.

The way I see it, there is a reason why Eddie keeps being brought up in this scene, but it's not what you think.

If you've rewatched this scene as much as I have, you'd remember that Buck actually isn't coming out to Maddie on purpose in this scene. He originally goes there to talk and ask for her advice, because he feels bad about the hot chicks incident when Eddie walked in on him and Tommy at the restaurant.

In fact, he fully intends to keep the identity of his date hidden. He can't even risk Chimney getting wind of it, in case he or Eddie puts two and two together and figures the whole thing out.

Maddie is always there to talk things out with her brother, but she would never turn down a chance to gossip.

He completely dodges Maddie's question and quickly changes the subject. He needs to tell Maddie the full story of his disastrous date, but he can only refer to Tommy as his date, or "this person". The more he does this, the higher the risk of slipping up, Maddie would likely ask more questions about this mysterious person as well, so Buck frames the whole narrative around the only person he can safely refer to: Eddie (and Marisol, but she isn't important in this story).

Maddie picks up on Buck's secrecy, now she really wants to know who this person is and why Buck refuses to reveal their identity. Buck again immediately shuts it down, and brings the topic back to Eddie.

While I'm sure Buck feels bad for lying to his best friend, especially when there's no reason to expect Eddie reacting with anything less than acceptance, when Buck starts actually talking about his behavior and what upsets him the most, it isn't really about Eddie. He's ashamed of himself for lying right in front of Tommy. In fact, he's so upset over Tommy cutting the date short and leaving him on the curb that he accidentally uses a gendered pronoun.

Maddie "I am 9-1-1" Han makes a career out of being a good and thorough listener, so of course she notices the pronoun. From this point on, the subject of the conversation shifts from Eddie to Buck's newly discovered sexuality, and later, Tommy.

Buck knows he goes to Maddie because he feels bad, but he still hasn't fully processed the fact that he's into men too and what it means to him. He's still calling himself an ally, a supporter of queer people, but he's confused as to why it doesn't seem to apply when it comes to himself. Maddie correctly points out that he's no longer just an ally, and the recency of his discovery might have been the cause of his strange and panicked behavior during the date.

This is the prime example of acting turning the same line into different meanings. The first "wow" seems to me like Maddie is finally connecting the dots. She practically raised her brother, it's not unlikely that she has previously witnessed Buck having boy problems. I feel like it's a "wow, everything makes so much sense now" wow. It looks like Buck takes a little offence at it and asks Maddie to clarify what she means by "wow". Maddie tells him it's more like a "wow, this is a nice surprise" wow.

Oh, boy is completely clueless. Maddie is just trying her best to keep up with Buck's increasingly oblivious statements.

Buck suddenly brings up Tommy, probably because he hasn't been able to stop thinking about him since the kiss. Apparently, he's so attracted to Tommy both physically and as a person, it makes him realize his interest in men, something no other has achieved thus far. Maddie recognizes the name her brother has been harping on for the past few weeks.

Poor Maddie must be so confused. First her brother and husband-to-be keep talking about how cool this pilot who saved everyone is, then he becomes Eddie's friend and Buck gets all jealous about it. Most recently, Maddie is horrified by Buck's action on the basketball court, because he only has a history of hurting himself to get someone's attention, not the target of his attention seeking. And now Buck has gone on a date with Tommy? So Maddie decides, one step at a time, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Buck initially tells Maddie about lying to his best friend and how he feels like a fraud, so she tackles (no pun intended) this part first.

If you come into this scene with preconceived notions, the word "feelings" being in proximity to the name Eddie may seem like to you that Maddie is pointing to "Buck's misplaced romantic feelings towards Eddie". But if you put these lines into context, Buck simply isn't sure of how he feels about his bisexuality in general. In fact, the only thing he's certain of in this entire conversation is his attraction to Tommy. Maddie also isn't bringing up Eddie out of the blue because she thinks her brother is secretly in love with his best friend. Again, Buck originally does want advice about lying to Eddie, albeit partly using his name to avoid revealing his date's identity, so Maddie gives it to him now, no need to read too much in between the lines, especially after the "wow" exchange.

Now that the Eddie stuff is out of the way, Maddie can comfortably gossip about Buck's new hot pilot crush. And Buck looks absolutely smitten at the mere mention of Tommy.

Eddie is undoubtedly a very important person in Buck's life, and it must be killing Buck inside for lying about something so important to his best friend. Though in this scene, Buck seems to be mostly using Eddie's name to circumvent the necessity of mentioning Tommy's name and to deflect any probing question about his identity. Once he accidently lets it slip that he was on a date with a guy, he pretty much drops the whole Eddie act entirely.

[queenofmorningstar]

Caught Between the Vees

The Vees x f! Intern Reader

Summary: Will you be able to escape The Vees?

CW: MDNI, Foursome, Light Bondage. Oral sex (both f and m), double penetration, anal play. Overstimulation, strap-on. Kinda possessive behaviour? The Vees being Vees.

Word Count: 5.6K

Part 1| Part 2| Part 3| Part 4| Part 5

Chapter Five: Winner Takes It All

You laid sprawled across his bed, hair a mess, and small marks of his teeth still remained. The plush mattress beneath you was warm, soft, expensive—like everything Vox touched. You snuggled deeper, never wanting to leave this haven.

Your body ached in a way that made you smile lazily. Vox had been… thorough. You stretched, letting out a low hum of satisfaction as the sheets slid over your bare skin..

But then there was a knock.

Sharp, twice. Then a pause, and a third, almost hesitant one. You sighed, rolling over and tugging Vox’s oversized shirt off the floor.

The door creaked open before you could speak. An imp with wide eyes stepped in. “Miss? You’re needed in the lounge. All three Vees are waiting for you.”

The way he said all three was too careful. Like he knew it would rattle you. And it did. Your pulse kicked up, sitting up straighter.

Velvette, Valentino… and Vox, but this time with eyes that might not look at you like a lover…What did they want? What did they know? And why did it suddenly feel like your perfect morning was turning into a performance you hadn't rehearsed for?

“Did they say why?” you asked, voice cool despite the tightness starting in your chest.

The imp shook his head too fast. “No, ma’am. Just said to make sure you were dressed nice.” Of course they did.

A curl of unease twisted in your stomach. This smelled like a trap. You stood slowly, already calculating. You already had the info you wanted to give Charlie. Should you text her? No, it would be better if you told her in person, and explained more thoroughly.

You took your time. There was a mini fridge there as well. You made some coffee and he had…shark-shaped cookies? You shrugged and ate it as well. While you were gone bathing, the imp had also brought a tray full of different breakfast options. You picked at the lavish spread—hellfruit, spiced eggs and toasted bread charred just right.Vox didn’t seem to skimp on hospitality…

Your fingers twitched around the last sip of your coffee. You didn’t know which version of the Vees would be waiting, and you hated that uncertainty.

By the time you reached the hallway leading to the Vees' private lounge, the imp had scurried off somewhere, sensing it was safer not to stick around. You stopped in front of the tall doors. They were cracked open, just slightly, voices floating through. Your stomach fluttered in a way that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the game you were about to walk into.

You took a breath and pushed the door open with the other. Three sets of eyes turned to you. Vel was draped over the arm of a chaise, sipping from a crystal glass with a wicked grin. Val was slouched like royalty in a leather armchair, smoke curling from his cigarette. Vox stood near the massive screen wall.

You stepped in. Valentino’s eyes dragged over your frame. “Well, well. Looks like someone had a good night.”

Velvette laughed. “You look comfy, babe. Breakfast good?”

You tilted your head. “Delicious.”

Vox’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes.

Oh, you were spiraling.

Not from guilt. No, never guilt. Just… logistics.

Because technically, you hadn't made any promises. Not to Vox. Not to Val. Not to Vel. There were no labels. And anyway—the Vees were poly. Open. That’s what the entire hell knew about them. They shared toys. Broke them together. Sometimes they passed them around like cocktails. Sometimes they fought over them just to spice things up.

So really, what were you guilty of? Nothing. Right? Still, your brain wouldn’t shut up.

Velvette was the first to move, her heels clicked across the room, each step was measured, languid. Her amused gaze never left yours, like a cat playing with a mouse before the kill. “You know, sweetheart,” Vel purred, breaking the stillness like a glass shattering on marble, “we could’ve kept this all light. Had fun. But you had to make it personal.”

You startled. “I don’t understand—”

Behind her, Valentino’s chuckle was low, burning with something darker than amusement. “You know what I hate, doll?” he asked, his voice smooth but with an edge that made your skin prickle. “I hate when someone plays me.”

Your chest tightened, and you couldn’t find your footing. “Okay,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, “What the fuck is going on—?”

And then, Vox stepped forward. His presence was like a heavy shadow falling over you. His eyes locked onto yours, glowing faintly, unreadable. “You lied to us,” he said, his voice a slow, smooth drawl.

Your stomach dropped. It felt like the floor had disappeared beneath your feet, leaving you to hang in midair. For a moment, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.

“What?” Your voice was raw, sharp—denial, a reflex.

Vox didn’t blink. His gaze never wavered. Velvette’s laugh was soft but dark. “Thought you could slide in all pretty, ride us, and sneak back to her with all the juicy little secrets, huh?”

The words hit you like a slap to the face, sharp and stinging. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Vox was still staring at you, still calm but cold. “Little Princess Morningstar must be very proud of your performance.”

Your mind spun, scrambling for answers, for something to hold onto, but you couldn’t make sense of anything. But the truth was already in the room, hanging heavy and damning, no matter how hard you fought against it.

Vox didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he raised his hand, just a small gesture. The lights cut out. The room plunged into darkness, and behind you, the screen flickered to life. The images were sharp and clear, the footage showed you hugging Charlie, talking very clearly what you intended for the Vees. The silence that followed was unbearable.

You were frozen. “How long,” Vel’s voice sliced through the quiet, “were you fucking us while working for her?”

“I wasn’t—!” Your voice cracked, but it was already too late.

And then, Vox whispered softly almost affectionate. “I adored you.”

You staggered back a step, breath caught in your throat. The words were a confession, an accusation, a punch in the gut. Valentino turned his head away, his jaw tight, but it was there—the flicker of betrayal in his eyes. Velvette didn’t smile anymore, she didn’t even look at you.

You stepped back. “No,” your voice barely a whisper. “No, you don’t understand, it wasn’t like—”

Another step. Then another.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean… I wasn’t—” Your voice cracked as panic clawed its way up your spine. Your chest constricted, and vision blurred. Your body took over before your mind could stop it. You turned and ran.

_____________________________

Thoughts jumbled in a million different directions, but one thing remained crystal clear in your mind: You had to get out.

Your legs carried you automatically like instinct. Down another hall. A sharp left. The V Tower’s labyrinthine design was no mystery to you; you’d studied it for weeks.

Only Charlie could get you out of here. You ripped your phone out, fumbling with the screen as you flew down the stairs. Your thumb hovered over the screen, shaking from the adrenaline. The call connected."Charlie," you gasped, voice tight with panic, barely able to keep it together. “Charlie, I need your help. I’m in trouble—I'm—”

Awful glitching filled your ears. You yelped, tearing it away from your ear and staring as Vox’s face appeared. “Darling, we didn’t finish our talk.”

Your fingers shook as you threw the phone down and it shattered.

You’re on your own. The thought settled coldly in your chest, a weight of finality sinking deep into your bones. You kept eyes trained on the stairs below, forcing your legs to keep moving, one foot after another.

You were almost there. Just a few more turns. A few more goddamn steps.

Then—BOOM.

The wall to your left exploded in a cascade of flame and stone. You shrieked, flinging yourself to the ground as debris rained over like ash from a funeral pyre. Dust clouded the air in a suffocating wave.

Valentino stepped through first, adjusting his pristine fur jacket, brushing rubble from his shoulder with deliberate flair. Right beside him, Velvette huffed and said to Val. “That was my wall you blew up, jackass.”

But Val ignored that and looked at you. “Going somewhere, sweetheart?” he drawled, voice rough and venomous.

“Aw,” Velvet pouted, her eyes glowing like twin pink stars in the smoky dark. “You didn’t even say goodbye.”

Your heart nearly stopped. You turned on your heel, every muscle screaming as you sprinted back—Only to find him.

Vox, standing in the middle of the corridor like a vision summoned from your worst nightmare. No emotion in his face. He didn’t move. He didn’t need to.

You were trapped. Fuck.

You looked left…nothing but stone. Right…just the broken wall and the flaming rubble. Forward, Vox. Behind, Val and Vel.

Nowhere to run.

“You don’t get to walk out,” Vox said, his voice distorted. “After all that you did.”

You clenched your fists, swallowing down the terror, forcing yourself to breathe. Think. THINK. But there were no secret doors here. No windows. No distractions.

The game was over.

______________________________

The world tilted sideways as you kicked and writhed, fists pounding against Valentino’s back to absolutely no effect.“Put me down, you son of a—!”

“Now why would I do that, dollface?” He purred. He had hoisted you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. You twisted, elbowed, clawed—nothing. His grip was iron, steady even as you thrashed like a wildcat. Vel skipped beside them, unbothered, humming while Vox trailed behind in complete silence.

You couldn’t get a read on them. Not when your blood was roaring in your ears and the taste of dread coated the back of your throat like smoke.

Val's laughter rumbled through his chest, jolting her. “You really thought you could play us, huh?” he said, casually, like this was a flirty conversation at a bar and not a kidnapping. “Spy on us, lie to us, take our cocks and our secrets, then waltz out like you were never ours?”

“I wasn’t yours,” you hissed, struggling harder. “I never said I was—”

He smacked your ass. “You acted like it,” he said, sharp and low now, all venom under the charm. “And that counts, sweetheart.”

You grind your teeth. You hated the weight of not knowing what came next. You wanted control back. Just something. You opened your mouth to speak, to argue, to distract—

“Don’t waste your breath,” Vox said flatly from behind them. “We’re not doing this for information.”

For a moment, your brain stalled—caught between panic and disbelief.

This was about them. Their bruised pride. Their ego.

God, the bed. It was ridiculous. Huge, overstuffed and drenched in red silk sheets and many pillows. With a slow, deliberate motion, Val tossed her down onto the oversized bed in the center of the room. You bounced once on the mattress, then settled, wrists pulled gently up as Val clipped the cuffs to the headboard with a quiet click. "Comfortable?" Vox drawled. His screen held a crooked smile, cold at first glance but something else flickered beneath it. Amusement and affection. And maybe... a little bit of hurt.

You were restrained, yes, arms stretched above your head, wrists snug in those cuffs but still trying to stare him down like you were in control. It’s cute… it’s infuriating. It makes his circuits hum with something just shy of hunger.

That fire in your eyes dared Vel to get closer. Her eyes roamed from the rise of your chest to the curve of your thighs. Still trying to hold your pride, even now.

Val reaches out, brushing the back of his knuckles over her collarbone. You shiver, not from the cold, from him.

The shame of being caught should’ve made you shrink. But instead, it made your thighs clench. You knew you could break out of these flimsy cuffs…but you didn’t want to. You wanted to see this through.

Valentino shrugged out of his shirt first. He gave you a dangerous grin, letting you take in the view before unbuckling his belt, his pants sliding down his hips. Vox discarded his jacket carelessly, revealing the sharp lines of his chest, his eyes never leaving yours, daring you to look away. And Velvette, always the tease, unzipped the back of her dress with languid grace, letting it slip down her body, leaving her in nothing but delicate lace lingerie that hugged every curve.

Vox leaned in close, brushing your cheek with the back of his fingers, eyes glittering with amusement and something darker. “Let’s play a little game, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips grazing your ear. “If we can make you cum first… every round, no breaks, no begging out — then you stay. You’re ours. Forever.”

Valentino was already grinning like he couldn’t wait to win, Velvette practically purring with excitement.

“And if you don’t?” you rasped.

He smirked. “If we cum first…then you get to walk. Back to your precious little hotel and your redemption arc.” He traced a slow circle over your thigh. “No hard feelings.”

_______________________________

The silk cuffs dug into your wrists, not painfully — just enough to remind you weren't going anywhere for a while.

Vox moved between your thighs. His sharp, elegant claws pushed your knees wider apart, dragging it along the soft skin of your inner thighs. Your body arched at the first teasing brush of his tongue, every lick purposeful and smooth. He pinned your hips down with strong hands, not letting you squirm away, breathy whimpers falling from your lips almost as if he had mapped every nerve.

“Already moaning, baby?” Valentino climbed onto the bed, his cock heavy and throbbing in his hand as he moved above your chest. He brushed his cock against your lips. “You know what to do, muñeca,” he purred, dragging the head across her bottom lip, smearing precum. “Open up and take it like a good girl.”

Your eyes flicked up at him, defiant even as your lips parted and took him in. Your tongue curled around the head of his cock. Vox’s tongue flattening against your clit, his fingers spreading your folds wide as he devoured you like a man starved. Every flick of his tongue was deliberate, every suck timed to the slow rock of Valentino’s hips. They moved in sync, overwhelming you from both ends and you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

Velvette had curled up beside you like a contented kitten, her pretty lace panties already pushed to the side for her slender fingers to slip into her slick heat without hesitation. Two fingers teased her folds, slow at first, tracing lazy circles against her clit while she watched everything—the rise and fall of your chest, the way your mouth stretched around Valentino, the twitch of your thighs under Vox’s tongue.

Vel groaned softly but edged with something darker. “God, watching you like this…” She gasped as her fingers picked up speed, rubbing tight, practiced circles that made her thighs tense. “You’re so fucking hot like this.”

Her eyes fluttered half-shut as her hand moved faster, slick sounds mixing with the obscene rhythm of the bed creaking beneath them. She was so wet—fingers gliding over her clit, then dipping inside herself, only to drag that arousal back up and rub it in harder.

Vel moaned softly as she rubbed her clit faster, but it wasn’t enough anymore. She needed to taste you, to touch more. Her lips hovered over your chest, those pretty nipples already stiff from the cold air and stimulation.

“That's it, baby…Look how good you're taking it.” Velvette whispered, then closed her mouth around one nipple, sucking hard. She moaned, her hand between her legs growing frantic as she ground into her own palm. She sucked again, wet and noisy, leaving red marks around the delicate peak before kissing it softer, almost sweet.

Valentino’s hips rolled in slow, deep thrusts, filling your mouth with every stroke, keeping a steady rhythm. One of his hands tangled in your hair, not harsh, but insistent, like he was guiding you where he wanted you. “Fuck, baby,” he groaned, low and drawn out. “Mmm, that's it, take it all.”

The soft wet sounds echoed off the plush walls of the room, mixing with Velvette’s whines and Vox’s low growl from between your thighs.

Val looked down at you—tears pricking the corners of your eyes, spit glistening on your lips, your lashes fluttering as your throat flexed to take him. You gasped, hips twitching involuntarily and that made Vox grin. He latched onto your clit then and sucked hard. You whimpered, mouth still full of Val’s cock, and Vox moaned darkly in response, tongue circling tighter and faster, a perfect spiral of pressure. His fingers slipped between your folds, sliding in effortlessly, curling with calculated cruelty as he found that perfect spot. The spot that made your thighs jerk, made you cry around Val’s cock, made Vel whimper in giddy delight beside you.

“Doll, you aren’t even fighting that hard.” Vox whispered, voice glitching with pleasure as he fucked you with his fingers. “You want to be ours, don’t you?”

He sucked again, relentless as his tongue flicked with maddening speed, fingers curled deep, pumping in as you moaned around Val’s cock. Your thighs started to shake.

Vel moaned with you, grinding her fingers faster. “She’s close,” she whimpered. “I can feel it—"

Val’s thrusts stuttered,“F-Fuck—baby, I’m—” he growled, voice breaking, and with a deep groan, he spilled down your throat. He held your jaw gently, thumbs rubbing your cheeks as he watched you try to swallow around him. At the same time, your thighs spasmed around Vox’s head.

Velvette bit gently down on your nipple as her body twitched as she came against her own hand. She moaned, voice cracking with release. “That's it, baby, that's it...Give in to us... fuck, you’re so perfect when you come."

“That's my girl... Just like that. Fuckin’ perfect for me.” Vox murmured, finally lifting his mouth from you, chin wet with slick.

Valentino pulled out slowly, panting, then leaned down and kissed you hard. Your body was floating… barely noticing Val pulling away, murmuring something low and filthy in your ear as he stroked your cheek. Your lips tingled from the stretch of him, saliva still dripping down your chin.

Before you could try to come back to senses, Velvette was straddling your chest, knees digging into the sheets on either side. Vel spread her folds with two fingers, slow and teasing. “Eat up, sweetheart,” she said, voice high and playful.

And then she lowered herself, grinding down onto your mouth with a breathless gasp. You moved your tongue, your hazy mind obeying on its own. Velvette let out a high-pitched moan, her hands flying to the headboard to steady herself. “F-fuck, yes—just like that,” she gasped, her voice already cracking. “Smart girl, such a pretty mouth…”

She was dizzy, but then Vel cried out above you, thighs trembling against your cheeks, clit sensitive to every stroke. And that’s when your brain, calculating even under pressure…Velvette's already cum before, so she’s sensitive, you thought, eyes glinting beneath lashes. If you can make her come first, you win this round.

You focused. Your tongue darted, circling tight and fast around her clit with expert precision. You flattened it, then flicked it just right, small repeated strokes that made Vel’s whole body jolt. Vel gasped, head thrown back, fingers white-knuckled around the headboard. “W-wait—,” Her voice was high and breathless, hips twitching. “Oh fuck—”

But you didn’t stop. You angled your head just slightly, lips sealing around Velvette’s clit now, and sucked hard. Meanwhile, Val had slumped back against the pillows, one hand resting on his thigh while the other wrapped around his cock, lazily pumping. Because the sight before him? Fucking art. “She’s too fuckin’ clever for her own good,” Val purred, voice thick.

But below them, Vox had gone still. “Still scheming?” he murmured as he leaned forward, palms pressing into the mattress on either side of your hips. You didn’t answer, mouth still on Vel. But your thighs tensed around him.

“You’re so clever,” Vox said, voice dripping with affection. He reached down, brushing the swollen, soaked lips of her pussy with the head of his cock, teasing. “Go ahead, beautiful. Outsmart me. Outsmart all of us. I’ll just have to fuck the fight outta you.”

Without warning, he sank in. One smooth, devastating thrust. You jerked, a muffled cry vibrating against Vel’s pussy as your back arched off the bed, every muscle going taut with the sudden fullness. It stopped your movements around her clit, which gave Vel some reprieve. Scheming bastard.

Vox let out a low moan, his eyes fluttering shut for a second. You clenched around him, involuntarily. “Oh,” he chuckled, voice glitching. “Sensitive already? Sweetheart, I haven’t even started yet.”

He pulled back halfway, savoring the friction then drove in again, harder this time. Not sloppy or rushed, but precise, like everything he does. Each thrust made you moan into her pussy, sending vibrations up through Velvette’s sensitive core. Vel’s thighs tighten around your head. “Sh-she’s still licking—!” She cried out, her hands scrambling for the headboard again. “She’s still going, Vox!”

“Of course she is,” Vox moaned darkly, leaning down to kiss the inside of your knee as he kept thrusting. “She knows what’s at stake.”

He set a brutal, perfect pace, each stroke driving deeper, angled to hit every sensitive spot inside you. Your slick coated his cock, every thrust more obscene than the last. 

“I told you,” he said, his thrusts never faltering. “You don’t come cum first, you walk. But if we make you come first… you stay.” His grin widened. “And I’m going to make sure you fucking do.”

You gasped against Vel, your tongue faltering. No, no. You had a point to make. You knew you could make Vel come first. He reached between them now, fingers finding your clit, throbbing from before. He rubbed tight, sharp circles, perfectly synced with each brutal thrust. But you didn’t give up either.

And then Velvette came, hard and fast and messy, grinding helplessly against your face as her whole body convulsed. Vox’s rhythm faltered, and he pulled out.

The cuffs rattled as you tried to lift your head, smug satisfaction glowing under the flushed exhaustion in your eyes. You licked your lips. “Don’t pout, you’ll get another chance to lose to me later." The Vees definitely didn't like that. You won this one.

Vox was done playing nice. He didn’t yell, just spoke, cold and crisp. “Turn her over.”

Val’s hands slid under your thighs, and Vel laughed, her hands already slipping beneath the cuffs to help. Your hips were lifted and your body turned. Face down, ass up, chest pressed into the soft pillows.  

Velvette was in front of you again. She pulled out a strap-on, the harness hugged her hips tight. It jutted upward, inches from your face. Her fingers slid into your hair, tilting your chin up until their gazes locked. “You’ve got such a smart fuckin’ mouth,” Vel said sweetly, “Let’s see if it’s good for anything useful.”

The first push was gentle. She let the tip slip between your lips. She held eye contact like a challenge, even as your cheeks flushed deeper. You opened wider. Vel’s breath hitched, watching your tongue swirl around the base, lips stretching to take the length. Your throat bobbed. You gagged once, eyes fluttering, but didn’t stop. Vel was content after the last orgasm, and now wanted you to fall apart completely.

Valentino groaned low behind you. “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, dragging a golden claw up the back of your thigh, slow and deliberate. “All mouthy until we put somethin’ in it.”

Vox, off to the side, chuckled with static hum. “She is a fast learner,” he said lazily, stroking himself as he watched. 

Vel’s hands were on your hair, guiding her movements. The dildo slid in and out with maddeningly slow precision. And that was when you felt the shift.

Vox moved beneath you, the faint scrape of his fingers against your hipbones. His cock, hard and heavy, pressed against your entrance. Vox’s cock pushed forward as he sank deep inside you, filling you in a way that made your body shudder and pulse with need. “Fuck…” Vox groaned, eyes dark as he took his time, letting you adjust to him. “Fuck, you’re so good, baby. Taking me like the perfect little thing you are.”

Vel added more pressure, her thrusts growing harder, more demanding as she hit the back of your throat. You let out a loud moan, swallowed by Vel’s movements.

Vox smirked at the sound, a low chuckle rumbling through his chest as he pushed deeper. “That’s it,” he murmured. “You can’t hide what you want forever, sweetheart. You like this, don’t you?”

Vox’s hands gripped your hip as he drove into your soaked pussy. His voice glitching between low moans and dark laughter. “Oh, baby, I know you're sharp, but you can’t think your way out of this, can you?"

Behind you, Valentino’s lubed fingers circled your rim, pushing inside inch by slow inch while you moaned around Velvet's strap-on. Vox thrust up harder, fucking you onto his cock and making your whole body jolt. 

With one hand Val gripped your hip, holding you steady as his fingers pressed inside you. He stretched you open gradually. His palm smoothed up your back, tracing the shape like he was learning it by memory. “Y’know,” he murmured, leaning in to press his lips to your shoulder, “I’ve had a lotta whores. But you? You’re the one I think about when I jerk off. You’re the one I want moanin’ my name ‘til your voice breaks.”

Then, with one smooth roll of his hips, he lined himself up and pushed inside. Deep, stretching, burning in the most exquisite way. He didn’t rush. Valentino sank into you, taking you like he owned your soul. You cried out, back arching but he groaned, a rich, filthy sound. “Fuck... tight as ever.”

Then Valentino drove into you, slow but relentless, stretching you open until you cried out. Sandwiched between Vox, Valentino and Velvette, your mind reeled. Every thrust from below shoved you onto Val’s cock, every lazy rock of his hips pushed you deeper onto Vox, and both their movements shoved you forward, taking more of the dildo harnessed to Vel.

Vox’s hand slid to your clit. "Come for us," he ordered, voice ragged. "Show us how fucking good you have it."

You shattered with a strangled sob, body clenching down so hard on both of them that Vox cursed loud and spilled inside you, twitching as he filled your pussy. Valentino groaned against your back, grinding deep inside he came too.

Vel kissed your forehead sweetly, cooing, "Good girl... That’s our girl."

_______________________________

You sat slouched in a giant cushioned chair, wrapped in a fluffy pink robe (Velvette’s), your thighs still sore, hair a disaster, and sanity hanging by a very frayed thread. You’d barely survived a three-way sex marathon, and now Valentino was doing your nails. “Babe, hold still or I’ll smudge the glitter,” he muttered around his cigarette, squinting with terrifying concentration as he painted your pinky the exact shade of blood red. “I swear, you fidget more than Vox when the WiFi’s down.”

You gave him a dead-eyed stare.

“I’m an artist with exquisite taste and access to 5K worth of OPI demon polish.” Val said without looking up. 

Vel plopped onto the armrest beside them, shoving her phone in Valentino’s face. “OHHH oh oh—do this next! Look at the little rhinestone skulls!! They’d look so cute on her middle fingers when she flips off Vox!”

“I feel like I’m gonna die,” you muttered.

“Nope!” Velvet chirped. “You’re ours now, darling.”

Before you could protest, Vox strolled in like he owned the place (he did), shirtless and content, a steaming mug that said “Fuck Alastor” in one hand. “I’ve already handled the paperwork,” he announced cheerfully.

Everyone blinked.

“What paperwork?” you asked, already regretting it.

“For the future marriage, obviously,” Vox said, sipping his coffee. “Three-way binding. You, me, Val, and Vel. I had the property deeds transferred this morning. Congrats darling, you now own a penthouse here.”

You looked into the metaphorical camera like you were on the Office.

Valentino gently blew on your nails to dry them, surprisingly delicate for an overlord. “Maybe I’ll get your name tattooed over my heart. Or ass. Same thing.”

The door to the room swung open with a sudden force, and Charlie stepped in, her hair flowing, red eyes glowing, partial demon form showing. “WHERE–”

She stilled, her expression going from anger to shock as she took in the sight of you sitting in the chair, surrounded by the three Vees who were clearly treating you…not torture-y?

“Charlie!” You smiled wide, getting up and hugging her close. Charlie hugged back tightly, glad you were okay. The Vees frowned.

“What the hell is going on here?” Charlie stepped back a little to get a good look at you. “Are you alright?”

Your lips curled into a smile, “Oh, don’t mind them. They’re just... being themselves.” 

Charlie raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. You knew she would ask as soon as you got back at the hotel. Charlie smiled at you, looping her arm around yours.“Come on. Let’s go home.”

Before you could take a single step, the Vees exploded into action. Velvette’s smile held a dangerous edge. “She belongs here with us, princess.”  

Vox was pushed off the wall with a sudden growl, his voice dipping into a deeper, more menacing tone as his left eye spiraled. “You really think you can come in here and walk out with her? Think again.”  

Val already had his gun out, his moth wings flaring wide.

Oh god, do they really think they can win against the princess of hell? You thought they were smarter than this. And you hadn’t gotten a chance to clarify shit.

You rolled your eyes and gave them a pointed look. “You guys can’t just calm the fuck down for once?” Charlie, still somewhat stunned but equally protective, tugged you behind her, giving the Vees a stern look. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Vox said, wagging a finger lazily. “Not so fast, sweetheart. You lost the game.”

You blinked and slowly turned to him, arms crossed. “Excuse me?”

“You know the rules,” Vox continued, setting his mug down with theatrical care. “We win the game, you stay with us. Forever. And, well... baby, round three? You didn’t stand a chance.”

Velvette chuckled behind him, lounging on the couch like a smug panther. “Mmm. Sweetheart was screaming our names.”

Charlie looked like she realised it all now and didn’t like this one bit.

“Then let’s talk about the results, shall we?” you said, holding up one finger. “Round one? You all came embarrassingly fast.”

Valentino actually gasped, like someone has offended his entire family. “Excuse me?”

“Tell me I’m wrong.” You arched a brow. “We all came together. So I’m calling that round a tie.”

Vox's smirk faltered slightly. “Fine. Round one: tie. And round two?”

You held up another finger. “Round two? I won. Easily. Valentino was still recovering, Vel forgot her name, and you,” You pointed at Vox, “were close to a reboot. I could tell.”

“I was distracted!” Vox snapped.

“Point proven.”

Valentino whistled low. “Damn. She’s got receipts.”

“And round three,” You went on, “I’ll admit, yeah, you guys won. Barely. Because I was exhausted by that point and couldn’t feel my damn legs.”

Charlie looked increasingly like she wanted to be anywhere else right now.

“So!” You declared brightly. “One round tie, one round me, one round you. That makes it a... what, kids?” There was a long, tense pause.

“Tie,” Velvette muttered.

You beamed. “Correct! So technically, no one wins. Meaning you can’t hold me to the ‘stay with us forever’ clause. But I am feeling generous today…I give you six months a year.” The Vees all blinked.

“In the V-tower?” Vel asked cautiously.

You nodded. “With you maniacs. But the other six months? I stay at the Hazbin Hotel with Charlie. My sanity needs time to regenerate.”

Charlie hummed. “That sounds familiar.”

“Exactly.” You smiled sweetly. “Persephone-style. Half the year in V tower with you guys, the other half with Charlie and the slightly-less-insane people.”

“I am so done with all of you,” Charlie mumbled under her breath.

Valentino leaned forward, intrigued. “Do we at least get conjugal visits during the off-season?”

“No,” You replied instantly.

“Phone sex?”

“No.”

“E-projections?”

“Valentino.”

He sat back with a mock pout. “Fine.”

Vox rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then gave a slow, wicked grin. “You know what? I’ll allow it. Six months on, six months off.”

Charlie threw her arms in the air. “I am officially declaring this entire situation cursed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: Wow! Can't believe this fic has come to an end. Omg this was SO fun, you guys!! I hope you had just as much fun as I did! Thank you — every like, every comment, it seriously means the world and keeps me writing more.

For my next piece...stay tuned!

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

Some bonus crack for your guys(◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

[stargirlfics]

sweet as silk, just like lavender

Alfred Pennyworth can’t keep his hands off you even if he tried

1.3k words - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: semi-public sexual acts, exhibitionism

from this ask prompt: alfred being obsessed with having his fingers inside you at all times

He always had you so eager for these moments, even if you were shy to admit it, Alfred could always tell by the way you melted into the flex and curl of his fingers buried between shaking legs, that you loved this just as much as he did.

Muffled moans and the hushed curses that leave your parted mouth are just encouragement, the loveliest kind of reward for a man so enraptured by the way his fingers filled you this perfectly. 

It’s like you were made for him and must be why he can’t ever get enough. 

Always left aching with need at the thought of watching you unravel before him, sweet and sticky folds parting for a thick middle finger because he was far from undisciplined in taking the time to stretch you out, he liked to be thorough with you.  

And judging by the way you were already grinding your hips into the pump of his forearm, the slick mess from your pussy leaking around his knuckles, Alfred thought maybe he could fit in a third after all. 

“Please! Feels so good, oh god…” You’re pleading, unable to keep your body from chasing after his touch, desperate for more but also painfully aware of where you were. 

You were supposed to be keeping quiet, had promised you’d behave and not draw attention to the creaking wood of the reading bench tucked in this quiet section of Wayne Manor’s library.

It was just impossible to do so when he leaned in like he was doing now to hush your cries with his free hand.

“Oh fuck…look at you. So gorgeous when you do that.” He groans when your tongue suctions to the two fingers keeping your mouth occupied, pleased by the frantic little whimpers he could still hear in your throat. 

It makes him throb when he glances down to watch where your pretty, greedy cunt is taking what he was giving, gripping him so tight he doesn’t think he can stop. 

He’d never want to either, not when you look up at him with glossy eyes that begged for the release so close to crashing down over you now. 

You were addictive in every sense. 

The first time Alfred remembers doing this together in precarious places it was his office at work, the memory making him smile. 

It was his fault for getting you so worked up throughout the day, he could say that, but then there was one too many heavy looks exchanged, your enticing voice in his ear asking him to touch you and suddenly he was doing exactly that, nevermind locking the door properly. 

He had you on your hands and knees that time, right there on the sofa across from his desk, being only slightly firm with his tone when he scolded you for driving him crazy but really he wasted little time before his silver beard was tickling your thighs as he tasted you and teased your clit at the same time. 

“You’re all I think about, you know that darling?”

Rumpled waistcoat’s and ties be damned when you were bared for him, the urge to devour and savor, to give and push you was too compelling. He knew right then and there that you could reach back and grab his hair and he wouldn’t mind if you tousled it.

How could he when he’d finally slid a finger inside and watched your lashes flutter, the quiver of your shoulders, that lovely little gasp and all the moans that followed. 

No, he didn’t mind one bit, it was perfect, he even had to retrieve your underwear from between the cushions afterwards. 

You’re a bit less concerned about getting caught than he is but he thinks that’s part of why he loves getting you off like this, the thrill is exciting.

It makes his heart swell and his cock harden that you trust and desire him so much to let him keep you teetering on the edge for however long he wanted to keep you there and then hearing you beg like that, he wanted to earn every praise and cry for more. 

You always listened so well too, determined to be rewarded with a ride on his fingers, reminiscent of that time in his car where he’d made such a mess of you. 

The windows were just beginning to fog when he pulled away from a heated kiss to reach over the console, curious hands roaming underneath clothes. 

Until he was touching the soft velvet that was you, moving back in for another embrace with a growl on his lips that you swallowed without hesitation. 

“What am I gonna do with you, hmm? Feels like you’re about to come all over my hand and I’ve barely started.” 

You answered with a whine then, needing to grab his shoulder to steady yourself the tighter the tension inside you swirled until he was withdrawing his touch to taste your very essence off his fingers, uninterested in keeping you waiting any longer. 

Even in the awkward confines of a car he could curl his fingers just right, nudging against that sweet, spongey spot that made you melt into pieces, the pleasure climbing with each slow and measured push of his wrist. 

Alfred could be so gentle but intense, nearly overwhelming you with bliss and leaving you happy and hazy for hours after and nothing short of that was acceptable for him. 

He’d spend hours like that if he could. 

It’s why he’s got your legs pushed back almost to your chest in this private corner of the library now, your t-shirt bunched around your waist and presently what he was using as leverage to rock you back into his thrusts. 

“Think you’re ready, love?” 

“Yes, fuck yes please. I want it…want you so bad, Alfred.” 

The way you say his name cracks something open in him and he’s fitting a third finger next to the two already filling you to the brim. 

Pulsing and warm, the added stretch has you covering your mouth to stifle the noise threatening to rip loose from your chest but the ache of pleasure just seemed to grow spreading from your center to the tips of your pointed toes. 

“That’s it, there you are such a sweet little thing. Mmm, I’m proud of you, darling.” Alfred coos against the inside of your knee.

He can’t help but swell with pride, his eyes trying to commit the sight of you to memory. 

Dew beading up on your pretty, bronze skin and the taut tremble of your muscles as he picks up pace just a little, striving to make your head fall back against the stained glass window above you. 

In his mind you deserve to be immortalized in the glass too, the vision that you are. 

His forearm braces when you jolt into his touch, fingers pushing a little deeper and keeping that relentless pressure against your walls while his thumb rubbed soothingly over your clit, again and again. 

“Ohh thank you, I’m-shit I think I’m-“ You’re trying to warn him, caught off guard by the sudden grip around your hips with his other hand, effectively keeping you in place. 

He doesn’t have to say a word, knows you’ll be dripping down his palm any second now as your head tips back and exposes your neck, pulse beating wildly.

You let yourself float away, leaning into everything you were feeling and letting go like he would want you to do, your lips meeting his again in a fiery heat, a passion so white hot you want to scream from how it makes your nerves tingle. 

But Alfred is right there to hold you together as you fall apart and he’s all you see when the pleasure begins to ebb and the warm comedown washes over you. Just like always. 

It’s delicious and delectably filthy and neither of you wanted it any other way. 

Forever thinking about being in compromising positions with that old man! This was fun to write and I hope you enjoyed! Also listened to DRIP by EVAN GIIA while writing this/brainstorming for this, the title comes from the lyrics and now I’m gonna go look at pics of Andy Serkis hands, do not disturb lmao

Thank you for reading 🫶🏾

<3 dividers by @/saradika-graphics <3

[acapelladitty]

After School Special

Summary: Confronted by your professor, Dr Jonathan Crane, over your constant need for his attention, you find yourself having to confess to some very inappropriate feelings with a surprisingly satisfying result. (2.6k)

(tw for: professor/student dynamics, desk sex, power imbalance, rough sex, teasing, mild degradation, multiple orgasm, piv sex, come marking)

Fic Masterlist ☆ Link to AO3

"You have been lying to me."

Caught off guard by the sudden accusation as you take the plush seat across from his desk, your face furrows into a frown as you splutter out an inaudible response at the hurled accusation. You had barely taken three steps within the room when he had spoken, the familiar layout of his private office as welcoming as ever – the densely furnished room mostly illuminated by the warm light of his desk lamp.

"Huh? I don't know what you're talki-"

"Don't lie to me."

You smooth the edges of your skirt, genuine confusion playing on your features as you look at him properly. He is sitting behind his desk with a firm look, one which you were well acquainted with and one which never sat too far from your mind in the darkness of the night as your fingers moved frantically against your heated sex. As handsome as ever, although many others were ignorant to his appeal, his wire-rimmed glasses sit atop his proud nose while his hawk-like gaze pins you into place.

"I have had my suspicions over your intentions for a while,” Crane confesses as his hands come to rest on his desk, folding over each other carefully. “You consistently seek support for work which you are more than capable of completing. At first, I considered that you may be cheating in some way but a thorough check of your academic history tells a story of genuine success."

His glasses flash in the dim light of his office as the vague attraction which always simmered below your skin while sharing a space with him found itself suddenly replaced by a surge of pure anxiety. A naughty child being caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Crane's outfit is a stuffy as ever and maddeningly endearing because of it. No matter the weather or occasion, he was never to be found without his patchwork brown suits and over starched, light coloured shirts; the materials doing their best to fill out his thin frame as his scuffed shoes tapped across his auditorium floors.

"So why do you constantly seek my support when such assistance is unnecessary?"

"I don't-I don't know what you're talking about. You're my professor and teacher so I value your feedback on my concepts and proposals."

Cheeks flaring with heat, you attempt to push the lie as truth while a traitorous slideshow of all the inappropriate and wicked thoughts you had entertained about him flashed through your mind.

"Hmm." Clearly unsatisfied with the answer, Crane taps his thin fingers along his desk as he considered his next question with a knowing tilt of his head. "Are you single? Romantically, I mean."

"What?"

Body freezing in place as though dunked in cold water, a sinking sense of discovery roots you to your seat as you fidget uncomfortably. "That's none of your business."

His lips curling into a smirk as he slowly unbuttons the very topmost button of his shirt, a move which makes your teeth worry at your lower lip, Crane speaks slowly to allow you to hear every word while he stands from behind his desk.

"A simple question and yet your response tells me what I need to know. You seek out my company due to some asinine attraction you hold for me."

Breath coming short as your fingers fiddle with the hem of your skirt, your knee jerk reaction is to deny him even as guilt sits heavy on your face.

"What? No! Not at al-"

"What did I say about lying?" Crane snaps, his voice holding all the authority which it was capable of as he stood before hundreds of students - demanding their attention with only his tone and body language.

Caught and unable to do much else, you give in with a quiet confirmation as the blush on your cheeks creeps down your neck.

"Maybe. I don’t know. Sure."

Crane tuts, the noise clucking free of his throat as a mild disappointment joins the subtle smugness of his features.

"You want to use me to further your grade. Disappointing really. I expected more from a student of your capabilities."

Indignant, despite the situation, your eyes narrow as you hotly contest his assumption.

"I don't need you to help with my grades! Are you kidding me?"

"Oh, is that so?"

"I think you're handsome and I like hearing you talk. Is that such a crime now? I've not done anything wrong."

"Losing focus in my class by allowing yourself to indulge in wanton fantasies should be a crime." Crane grumbled for a moment but his expression shifts into something decidedly predatory as he leans his ass against his desk. "But I would be more disappointed if you did not see your goals to their end."

Desperately trying not to read into his words as the shame of your discovery ignited a flood of arousal deep in your gut, you squint up at him with confusion.

"Professor?"

"If you are going to waste my time with your asinine attraction then I may as well gain some benefit from it. Stand up," he demands.

The command making your cunt clench with its unshakeable demand, you stand from your chair and approach him slowly, feet feeling absolutely non-existent against the thin carpet.

Crane's position against the desk, with his ass sitting on the hard wood and his legs spread, makes it easy for you to slot yourself between his knees - his impressive height making your head have to tilt up to meet his own. Every nerve in your body feels on edge, a thrilling sense of danger pairing with the arousal to make your limbs tremble.

"What're you going to do with me, Professor?"

Clearly a man of action and not words, his head slips forward in a smooth movement as he captures your lips in his own in a heated kiss. His lips are rough, painfully chapped, and his face feels sharp against your own as you tilt your head and immediately grant him all the access he needs.

He tastes of coffee and the harshness of it creates a wrinkle in your nose as you run your tongue along his teeth, mapping out the uneven landscape as his thin arms come to wrap around your waist - pinning you into place against him as you drag your hand up the rough material of his suit. His shock of auburn hair is surprisingly gentle against your fingers as you wind your hand around the back of his neck, needing something to anchor on to as he devours your mouth like a starving man.

"You're very soft," he mutters as he pulls away for only a moment. "And I can taste your perfume." His lips draw across your neck, licking and kissing a line down the sensitive skin as you gasp and curl your hand into the nape of his neck.

"God, Professor Crane- you're so-" You cut yourself off with a whine, your free hand dropping to press against the tented fabric of his groin as his teeth bite harshly at your neck, the discomfort of the bite making the growing dampness between your legs even more pronounced.

"Is this what you've fantasied about, my dear?" His breath is hot against your neck as he allows you to unzip his slacks - freeing his rapidly hardening cock from its confines. "Your wicked professor bending you over his desk and fucking you until you can't stand it anymore."

Shuddering at the vulgarity you release his slacks long enough to shove your hands up your skirt, hooking your fingers around the waistband of your panties as you shuffle them free of your ass. Allowing them to fall to the floor, you step out of them and hiss as his right hand instantly drops from your waist to slip up under the hem of your skirt.

"You're very forward, little mouse," Crane teases as his fingers trail a line up your inner thighs. "Manipulating a poor old man to debase himself for your own needs. It's desperate and requires some level of discipline I think."

"Discipl-oh fuck!" His fingers pressing insistently at your slit as his hand cups your cunt short-circuits your brain for a moment and your grip on his neck tightens as your other hand finally wraps around his cock.

He's long but not overly thick and you can feel the softness of his salt and pepper flecked pubic hair pressing the side of your hand as you stroke along his length with slow, jerky movements. His cock has a definite leftward lean and the velvety heat of it is heady against your palm as you carefully jerk him off.

Heat dances along your skin as his fingers continue to play with your cunt. It's almost experimental in the way that he strokes and rubs his way along your slit before finally finding the target of his exploration; a bolt of pure pleasure curling your toes as his pointer fingers brushes along your clit. Pleased with his discovery, he quickly alternates between manipulating your clit and teasing your hole, his fingers making obscene noises due to how wet you are.

Having decided enough was enough as his hips unwittingly start to buck into your hand, Crane pulls his fingers free of your cunt and brings them to his lips. A greedy tongue flicks at the ends of his digits and he tastes you and a rumble of approval trickles free of his chest. It's so unbearably hot that you shiver in place, rolling the palm of your hand against his cockhead as it twitches within your grip.

In a quick motion, one which catches you off-guard as you squeal in surprise, Crane switches your positions by grabbing your shoulders and smoothly swapping your bodies - ensuring that your front is facing his desk as he molds his much larger frame to your back. His desk now pressing into your lower stomach, you allow Crane to push you down and force you to bend over the hard wood. Your elbows are quick to steady your body and you groan out something indecipherable as he wastes no time in hiking your skirt over your ass.

Exposed and painfully desperate to be fucked, you can't help but arch your back and present yourself to him like a bitch in heat. He seems to appreciate the effort though as a low growl floats over your head and his fingers grip at your ass - groping every inch he can get his hands on as you gasp at the sensation.

"Tell me what you want," Crane demands, his voice low and rough with need.

"I want you to fuck me! Here- like this! On your desk."

A sharp sting makes you cry out and you instantly realise that he has slapped your ass with his open palm - a choice which makes your cunt ache and spasm around nothing.

"Mmm, not good enough. Let's give ourselves the proper titles we deserve; me as your professor and you as a needy whore who begs for his cock."

"Oh God." You groan, his words doing an absolute number on your mind. "Please, Professor Crane, this whore needs your cock. I need to feel you stretching me out and fucking me across this table until I can't see straight."

With no warning, he thrusts himself with you – every inch of his cock burying itself as deeply as possible within your dripping cunt and his victorious grunt is easily drowned out by the muted cry which you are only just able to catch by slamming your lips shut. His strokes are forceful, painfully stretching you without mercy in the most delicious way as you grip his desk and meet his ferocity with your own.

“I must confess that I’ve considered this myself,” he rasps. “Having you wrapped around my cock just like this. Tell me, how many times have you gotten yourself off thinking about this? How much pleasure did you bring yourself thinking of your professor’s cock?”

He fucks you even harder and you can’t even articulate a response as your lips form into a low series of moans and whines – clenching around his cock with every thrust as you remain powerless in his grip. His hands are hard against your hips and you know that small, purple bruises will absolutely mark up the skin within a day.

That said, his right hand disappears from your hip and you whimper as it instead snakes around your throat, pulling your upper body higher to lay flush against his chest as he remains buried within your cunt. The sensation of his hand around your throat pairing with the delirious pleasure of his cock stroking along your sensitive walls proves too much and you – aching, dripping and utterly desperate for more – come around his cock; your walls clenching and milking him for all he’s worth as he snarls out his own pleasure at your tightness.

His pace is unrelenting and the flow of it drags your orgasm out as your toes curl against your shoes and every nerve in your body feels aflame, pleasure rolling across your frame to make your head feel light and your cunt quiver and twitch.

“You’re so tight, little mouse,” Crane growls into your ear. His teeth make themselves known on your neck and the discomfort of his blunted teeth on your skin only adds to the overstimulated ache in your cunt. “A man could get used to this kind of treatment.”

A second orgasm rolls through you, the surprise of it making you cry out loudly but his hand slips from your neck to your mouth – fingers pressing against your lips to stop any further noises from escaping.

“Hush now,” Crane pants, “we wouldn’t want to be discovered like this now, would we? What would your peers think if they saw you taking your professors cock so beautifully?”

He pulls free of your cunt with a single fluid motion and you feel the heat of his release as it spatters across your cunt and ass, his erratic grunts barely restrained while you clench your throbbing cock around nothing – disappointed that he chose not to finish inside.

The mess between your legs is intense; the physical mess of your combined release dripping down your inner thighs as your cunt feels raw and aching due to the ferocity of his thrusts. Your clit twitches with the vague aftershocks of your dual orgasms and it takes a solid minute for your legs to stop trembling fully as Crane slips forward to press himself flush against your back once more.

"You make a very entertaining proposal, little mouse. Provided that discretion remains a priority, I wouldn't mind a continued tuition in such a manner."

Working through his stuffy speech pattern with your post-orgasm brain, it takes a moment to realise what he means and you tilt your head back to meet him – catching his gaze with your own and taking note of how satiated and relaxed his features are.

"You want to…again I mean?"

"You graduate within two months and your academics prove your abilities,” Crane hums and his hands are everywhere as they roll across your hips before tugging your skirt down to cover your ass. “I doubt a session or two with your most dedicated professor will have much impact on your achievements."

Not quite ready to move just yet as you mistrust the strength of your legs, you can’t help but feel that ‘a session or two’ may not be enough to fully quench the thirst which the new development has planted deep in your thoughts.

[fandomfloozy]

Bittersweet Nothings

Pairing: Durge x Gortash, reader x Gortash

C/W: gn reader, redeemed! durge, platonic/romantic soulmates, sfw

~°•*~

It's just a glass of wine, you'd told yourself. What's the harm? You'd naively asked.

Having the newly appointed Archduke of Baldur's Gate set up in your camp was unprecedented enough, but to agree to join him in his tent for a spell was hardly appropriate. Especially now that over half the bottle had disappeared in no time at all.

You were hardly to blame, to be fair. He had a certain air about him that had drawn you in from the beginning. A comfortable familiarity with you that left you equal parts confused and amused. He was charming, as is his way. Which is why when he'd asked you to share a drink with him, the only response you could scrounge up was a shrug and a "What the hell, why not?"

Which left you here. Sprawled out on an assortment of cushions and floor mats, a slight heat in your face that spread from your cheeks to your neck, cackling at whatever sad attempt at comedy has just left Gortash's mouth.

"You're positively primeval," you laugh as you playfully push at his shoulder, which is lightly adorned with just a black dress shirt. His overcoat lay forgotten in the corner somewhere, shed about two glasses ago.

"Oh, come now," he grins slyly in response, face leaning against his hand as he lay facing you. "You always liked that one."

You can tell in the way he says it and in the moment that follows that he knows not what he said or how it came across. The words flowed out of him without thought, as if by nature.

And you're no fool. You've scrounged up enough clues and hints of a past alliance. Words written in your own hand, and some in his, that tease at something even deeper than that. A friendship. A bond. Maybe something more, if you look real close, if you squint.

It's circumstancial at best. Letters can be fabricated, feelings can change. One page of a book tells only a fragment of a story. Yet it's moments like these, where his facade cracks and his defenses drop, that cement a truth in your mind: you meant something to him. Mean something to him. And a lifetime ago--a gruesome, gory, painful lifetime ago--he might have meant something to you.

And you don't remember it.

He's too engrossed in pouring his next glass to notice your shift in mood. You almost feel sober, idly circling the rim of your glass with a finger.

And yet the alcohol definitely plays a part in loosening your tongue. "You know, in our travels," you begin. His gaze shifts to you again. "My group and I, we've come across many an expert who have taken it upon themselves to inform me of just how..." You struggle to find the words, yet he hangs off each one in rapt attention. "Mutilated my mind truly is. In a very literal sense." You don't gauge his reaction. The ichor of the liquid in your glass seems far more fascinating right now.

This subject matter makes you feel shy and exposed, and yet his response is nonchalant. "Yes, well, it should come as no surprise how thorough Orin was in her brutality." You can hear the roll in his eyes.

The mention of her name leaves a foul taste in your mouth and a tightness in your chest. "I've no doubt she took great pleasure in her work," you retort, emulating the exasperation in his tone. Your feelings pertaining to Orin are complicated, and this wasn't really the direction you intended to steer the conversation.

There's a hand at your chin and suddenly your eyes are level with his. "Dear assassin, take comfort in the fact that you were always her better." His expression is fierce. A sense of sort of... pride emanates from him. "She lies in the very bed she made and you alone stand victorious, as is your right." There's a finality in the way he says it. He sounds so sure, as if it was written in stone. As if he'd known this would always be the outcome.

You realize his finger and thumb linger on your chin. The exaggerated sense of warmth is dizzying. You blame the wine.

You attempt to refocus, smile with an exhale. "While I appreciate the sentiment, that's not what I was getting at."

"Speak then." He adjusts his frame. The hand remains in place, save for a rogue thumb that travels upward, brushing your bottom lip. "What troubles you?"

He asks in a cavalier sort of way, but his eyes carry an earnest. I'd move mountains to ease your troubles. It makes you hesitate before you continue. "Well, because of the sorry state I'm in." He chuckles at that. "It's entirely possible that... no amount of magic or healing could ever restore my memories. Return me to I was--"

He scrunches his brow quizzically. "I'm sure some way exists. We are set to conquer an elder brain, after all--"

"If your Grace would allow me to finish my thought." The words spill out of you with a laugh. Playful yet frustrated. So frustrated, in fact, that you've grabbed the hand that was at your chin. It's still in your grasp as you huff out a puff of air at the unperturbed face of Enver Gortash.

Your display apparently gives him no pause. He only raises a brow in amusement. He allows his hand to remain in your grip as he brings the other to his grin. He mimes zipping his lips shut and bows his head as a gesture to continue. You have the floor.

You sigh. "Were it possible... By some miracle or great power, to restore my mind to what it once was..." You look down and fiddle with his fingertips as you try to organize your thoughts. He lets you. "I'm not even sure that's something I'd want?" It comes out as a question. Rhetorical in the sense that you have no answer and Gortash doesn't offer one, true to his promise to let you continue uninterrupted. So you do.

"I'm free of my father. I've no concept of what it was like to submit to him fully, and I don't think I want to." The you that you hear about sounds nothing like the you you know. The you that was willing to watch the world burn--willing to be its last inhabitant, its last sacrifice to your god, your very blood--isn't you anymore. Everything you've heard has led you to believe the person you were was disturbed, deranged, unhinged. Who was that person beyond the madness? Was there one? "That part of me feels better off lost... Lest I lose my current self to it."

When you meet Gortash's eyes again, they're still on you, expectantly. His lips are sealed, determined to a fault to allow you to finish--somehow aware in the first place that you aren't yet.

He waits.

The bastard.

You bite the inside of your cheek. You sit up to your knees, now holding that hand so fiercely in both of yours. "I'm so certain of this. But..." Your brow furrows. "When one decides to leave their past behind, there are tradeoffs. One truly leaves everything behind them. Other aspects of my old life are simply lost to me. I know not who raised me up, I know not whether I was sweet as a child, I know not whether some trace of who I am existed in the person I once was." You bring his hand up to your forehead and shut your eyes as you confess. "And I know not who you are, Enver Gortash."

You either still have the floor or he doesn't know what to say. Either way you keep going.

"While I've come to respect you, and somewhat even trust you, no part of my mind remembers you."

You look down at him and search his eyes in desperation. The amusement in his face has softened into something else you can't quite place. He looks up at you, not having torn his gaze away.

You don't remember him.

"And yet, dear tyrant." You've known something from the moment you first met. "Some part of my soul knows you..." You exhale a laugh without humor.

"And I don't know what to make of that."

~°•*~

[tenebraevesper]

With Light In My Heart, Entry 6: Reach For Me

''I will forge through smoke and steel, breaking free, but can I heal? The answer waits beyond the fire, a pyre built from my desire. What's the price for what I seek? A future grim, a heart too weak? The line I walk is burning clear, yet I press on, despite the fear.''

– Embers of the Abyss by ABOKAI Release (Sonic X Shadow Generations: Dark Beginnings)

xXxXxXx

''It should be here somewhere, right?'' Sonic asked, only for Shadow to shake his head.

''If we were close, we would've seen the Badnik already,'' Shadow pointed out. Sonic nodded, aware that Shadow was right. Still, who could blame him for getting a little antsy about the upcoming battle.

The two had left Spagonia several days ago, just wandering aimlessly until they came across a village in a northern region surrounded by mountains, who told them about one of Eggman's Badniks causing trouble for anyone who went on a hiking trip on the popular mountain trail. The villagers weren't strong enough nor did they have the necessary weapons to deal with it, and while avoiding the mountain trail kept them out of danger, they were still worried that the Badnik would find the village and attack them. Sonic and Shadow immediately accepted the request, not just because they wanted to protect the village, but also because they were in mood to destroy another of Eggman's creation.

''Do you think Eggman has a base somewhere?'' Sonic asked Shadow, running beside him up the trail, the path being covered in snow, with woods surrounding them. While both hedgehog's felt the sting of the cold, they weren't too bothered by it.

''While it is possible, the villagers had told us that they only saw one Badnik. If there was a base, there would be more of them,'' Shadow replied. ''It is more likely that this Badnik is just a straggler.''

''I guess that makes sense,'' Sonic said, shrugging. Truth to be told, he was fine with fighting a whole group of them, even convincing Shadow to compete to see who destroys the most Badniks.

''However, that doesn't mean that we won't check for the possibility of there being a base,'' Shadow said, narrowing his eyes. Sonic snorted, well aware that this was Shadow simply being thorough. If he was paranoid about something, he would make sure that whatever was bothering him was dealt with swiftly and mercilessly. In other words, if there was an Eggman Base here, it would be soon wiped from existence.

''There's the cabin! We should be close to where the Badnik was last seen,'' Sonic exclaimed, pointing excitedly at a nearby hiker cabin, recalling what the villagers told them about where to go. ''The lake should be just a bit further.''

Normally, a hike like this would take a couple of hours for a person to complete, but Sonic and Shadow managed to make it in record time, being only slightly slowed down by the snow and unfamiliar environment. They took a turn as they had been instructed, following a path through the woods to an open area that revealed a huge frozen lake. Both hedgehogs took a moment to look around, observing their surroundings and searching for the Badnik. At first, they didn't see anything, with Sonic taking a few steps further, while Shadow lingered behind, being more cautious than his cobalt rival. Sonic hummed in thought.

''Maybe the Badnik went somewhere else,'' he suggested. Shadow was silent, thinking about their next move, only for the two to suddenly hear heavy steps, quickly turning to the source of it.

Both hedgehogs were met by the sight of a massive Egg Hammer Badnik, one of Eggman's toughest robots who had been carrying a hammer with them and were highly durable. Shadow frowned. ''It is no wonder that no one in the village could deal with this Badnik.''

''That's why we're here,'' Sonic said, giving him a confident smirk and a thumbs-up, then charged at the Badnik. Shadow quickly followed, watching Sonic as he attempted to land the first hit, only to be forced to dodge the swing of the hammer. This left an opening for Shadow, who summoned a Chaos Spear in his hand and threw it at the Egg Hammer, only for the robot to block it with the hammer, being much faster than its giant size implied. That didn't discourage Shadow, as it meant that the battle only last a little longer. Still, he was the type to end a battle as fast as possible and move onto the next one, unlike Sonic, who had fun taunting the Egg Hammer and avoiding getting hit by the hammer by running circles around it. It basically became a game of Whack-A-Hedgehog and Sonic was having the time of his life. After all, there wasn't anyone who could get hurt, so Sonic allowed himself to mess around before he could go for the finishing blow. He curled into a ball, managing to land a clear hit in the Egg Hammer's chest, causing it to stumble and shake. Sonic landed in a tripod stance, giving Shadow a victorious grin.

''I got the first hit!'' he bragged, only for his smile to falter slightly when he saw Shadow smirking back smugly.

''Take a closer look!'' The dark hedgehog pointed at the Badnik, with Sonic's gaze falling on the robot's back, taking note of the scorch marks.

''Oh.'' Sonic snorted, realizing that while he attacked the Egg Hammer from the front side, Shadow managed to sneak in a Chaos Spear from the back. All in all, it was a tie, but that didn't bother him much. It just showed how much in sync they were to be able to land a hit at the same time.

Both hedgehogs were suddenly forced to leap away when the Egg Hammer swung the hammer once more, forcing them to keep their distance. The Badnik then lunged at them and when the hedgehogs split off into separate directions, it went after Sonic. The cobalt hedgehog managed to avoid its swings, only to suddenly slip and almost fall over, not realizing that he ended up running onto the frozen lake. He gasped, struggling to keep his balance, his ears twitching at the sound of ice cracking beneath them. His emerald eyes were wide as he realized that he was in deep trouble, his legs trembling as he lost any sense of traction and his arms spread wide to keep his balance.

Sonic could only look up in horror as the Badnik swung its hammer down, breaking the ice between them into tiny pieces, with Sonic trying to run on the broken ice back to the safety of the shore, only to be swept away by a massive wave. Sonic gasped as he fell into the icy water, having swallowed some of it, his body burning as he felt as if millions of tiny hot needles pricked every bit of his body, past the fur and skin and turning it numb. He was dragged down by the cold of the water and his own inability to swim, with ice pieces floating over him. Sonic sunk deeper into the water, his eyes closing as he couldn't anymore feel his legs nor his arms. His mind was still fighting to stay awake, but he was quickly losing the battle, unable to make sense of this. Why was he struggling? Why was he fighing? Wouldn't it be better to allow himself be embraced by the chilling depths? Wouldn't it be better to just go to sleep?

''Sonic!''

Shadow stared in horror at the broken surface of the icy lake, his eyes wide as he tried to comprehend what he just witnessed. The Egg Hammer went after Sonic, chasing him towards the lake and then broke the ice, causing the cobalt hedgehog to fall into the chilling waters and sink into it's depths. Shadow managed to snap himself out of his stunned state and rush towards the lake, noting how the Egg Hammer managed to back away from the water and onto the shore, swinging its hammer at the dark hedgehog. Unfortunately for the robot, Shadow was beyond furious, gathering Chaos Energy as an orange-red aura formed around him, his crimson eyes glowing in rage.

''Chaos Blast!''

Shadow didn't even bother to make sure that the Egg Hammer was completely destroyed by the explosion of Chaos Energy, instead leaping into the icy water and swimming after Sonic. His body was screaming, protesting due to the sudden cold, but Shadow kept swimming, managing to spot the cobalt body sinking into the depths. His gloved fingers grabbed Sonic's wrist, pulling him back, but the hedgehog was heavy. Shadow's eyes narrowed as he pulled Sonic towards himself, a cyan light flashing around them, followed by another flash of light back on the snowy shore.

Shadow's lungs burned as he gasped for air, water dripping from the tips of his quills, but he couldn't care less as he turned to Sonic. The cobalt hedgehog was in a bad shape, being unconscious and not moving at all. Shadow felt his heart pounding as a primal sense of fear flooded his mind. He quickly checked Sonic's pulse on his neck and pressed his ear against his peach chest, trying to make sure that he was still alive. There was a faint heart beat, but Sonic wasn't breathing, filling Shadow with a surge of panic, only for the cobalt hedgehog to suddenly start coughing. Shadow quickly flipped him over, with Sonic coughing and vomitting water and slime, managing to get it out of his body. He stopped, his breathing shallow, but at least he was breathing now.

Shadow's own breaths were ragged, his heart racing as he cursed himself for not taking the situation more seriously and finishing off the Badnik before a disaster could occur. However, he quickly pushed those thoughts out of his mind because Sonic was still at death's door due to suffering from hypothermia and his condition wasn't going to improve in the snowy environment. He knew that Sonic needed a source of warmth to keep his body from fully shutting down as soon as possible.

Shadow's mind immediately went to the hiker cabin and after he wrapped his hands around Sonic's body, he used Chaos Control to get them both there. He almost kicked the door in, only stopping himself when he recalled that it was unlocked, and carried Sonic inside. The cabin itself was well-furnished, having a kitchen area, a bathroom and a living room area in front of a fireplace, as well as a loft with several beds on it. Shadow placed Sonic in front of the fireplace, then rushed towards the bathroom and grabbing the spare towels. He ran back to Sonic, removing his gloves and shoes, and starting to dry him as best as he could. He then placed Sonic on the couch, then rushed towards the loft to grab a pillow and as many blankets as he could, then placed the pillow under Sonic's head and placed the blankets over him, his mind focused on only one thing – keep Sonic warm.

He then pushed the couch towards the fireplace, followed by throwing several pieces of wood into it and starting a crackling fire with a spark of his Chaos Energy. His own breathing slowed down as the panic he had felt earlier waned, leaving him in a state of dizziness. He felt the coldness seeping into his body, trying to fight off the fatigue and drowsiness that was slowly over taking over his mind. He stepped away, shaking the water droplets out of his fur and quills, then grabbing another towel to dry himself. He removed his own shoes and gloves, placing them next to Sonic's to dry, then he sat on the couch and tried to warm himself up by rubbing his arms, refusing to take a blanket away from Sonic since he needed them more. Shadow sighed, knowing that he was fortunate that his body was more resilient to extreme conditions, but that didn't mean that it didn't affect him. Still, he was more worried about Sonic, not even wanting to think about what would've happened if he wasn't there to save him.

No, I haven't saved him yet. He is still in danger.

Shadow reached for Sonic's hand, realizing that despite his efforts, it was still icy cold and clammy, not even reacting to his touch. He knew that he needed to find something else that would help in warming Sonic up, but having searched the whole cabin, he couldn't even find a heat pack or a hot water bottle. He stared at Sonic, feeling his own hands shake. Whether it was out of concern or fear, he didn't know. He had to make a decision.

Warmth… He needs more warmth.

Shadow furrowed a brow, then lifted the blankets and quickly slipped beneath them, wrapping his arms around Sonic's waist and slotting his legs between the latter's. Shadow knew that the only thing he had left was to share his own body heat. He hoped that he could act as a living heater for Sonic, keeping him warm and comfortable until he woke up. He reached for Sonic's hand, bringing it up to his lips and breathing into it, using his other arm that was wrapped around Sonic's torso to pull him even closer, almost pressing Sonic's head into the white fluff of his chest, his teeth gritted in self-directed anger.

Why did I let that Egg Hammer chase after Sonic?! If I had gotten between them, Sonic wouldn't have fallen into the lake! If I had reacted faster, he wouldn't have been put into this situation! If I had just… Shadow closed his eyes, the sense of guilt and pain he felt overwhelming his mind. He had promised himself and Sonic that he would keep his rival safe and he couldn't even fulfill one damn task. If Sonic dies because of my own shortcomings, I will never forgive myself.

The sensation he felt in his chest was that of a heavy weight, one that was suffocating him, and he forced himself to breathe, opening his eyes. He observed Sonic, noting how his body was still cold, especially his bare hands and feet. Shadow tried to come up with other methods he could use to warm him up quicker, but nothing came to his mind. His thoughts were in a haze, and he could focus on nothing but Sonic wrapped in his arms, fighting for his life.

''Com'n, Hedgehog, wake up…'' Shadow whispered, his voice trembling despite doing his best to keep calm. ''You've been through much worse than this…'' His hand dug into Sonic's quills and he pressed his cheek on top of Sonic's head, pleading, ''Please, Sonic, wake up…''

Shadow exhaled once more, the anger, guilt and despair being slowly replaced by a sense of emptiness. The rationality of his mind finally prevailed, making him understand that he had done everything he could to save Sonic and that it was now Sonic's turn to respond. Despite that, he still felt hollow, still furious at himself for letting someone he deeply cared about almost die.

He couldn't bear losing another loved one. Not after Maria…

Shadow hugged Sonic tightly, his fingers almost digging into the cobalt fur as if he had feared that Sonic would suddenly vanish into nothingness. The fact that this was once a possibility made him feel even worse, causing his stomach to churn. As much as he used to get annoyed at Sonic and fight with him for reasons only they were aware of, he still cared deeply about him, even if he refused to be open about it. Emotional attachment led only to pain and suffering, and the complete refusal to form a connection with anyone had the same results. So, what was he even supposed to feel? How was he even supposed to act? Taking either path only led to anguish.

Shadow sought an answer for so long, and every time he believed that he had found it, the reality he lived in was crushed either by his own actions or by some karmic force that wanted to see him suffer. He believed that he could make Maria healthy, only for her to die at the hands of G.U.N. He believed that Maria wanted to see Earth's destruction, only to find out that it was Prof. Gerald who had manipulated him into becoming a weapon of destruction. He almost gave into Black Doom's manipulations, with the only reason why he never took that crucial step being because someone else was by his side, either Sonic and his friends or Maria and Gerald. He refused to communicate with Sonic, choosing violence instead, which resulted in the Paradox Prism breaking and their reality shattering. He allowed himself to believe that he was immune to the Metal Virus, only for reality to punish him for his arrogance and stubborness by turning him into a Zombot.

At some point, he started believing that he was never allowed to be happy, to feel joy. He believed that he wasn't allowed to get close to anyone, that they would get coldly torn out of his grasp if he ever dared to hope. During the past few days, he had opened up to Sonic in ways he never thought he would be possible, but fate had other plans, laughing coldly at him as he desperately clung to the light that was flickering feebly.

I'd do anything… anything to-

''Shadow…''

''Sonic?''

Shadow's attention snapped immediately to Sonic, who stirred, slowly opening his eyes, the familiar emerald gleam being now muddy and unfocused. He looked so weak, so vulnerable, barely even able to move his head, let alone his body. It would take some time for him to fully recover. Nevertheless, Shadow felt a wave of relief washing over him when he saw Sonic awake and trying to talk to him. He would be fine. He was safe.

''How do you feel?'' Shadow asked him, his tone quiet but filled with concern.

''Cold…'' Sonic mumbled, barely audible. He shivered, only to sigh contently when Shadow placed his hand, now warm, on his fawn muzzle. ''I wanna sleep…''

''You can't. You need to stay awake,'' Shadow told him, part of him surprised with just how gentle his tone was, but he didn't care anymore. ''If you fall asleep now, I don't know whether you'll wake up again.''

Sonic didn't respond, but the look he gave Shadow made it clear that he understood. He pressed his head into Shadow's chest fluff, a faint smile on his lips. ''Heh… I knew you were a hugger.''

''I'm trying to keep you warm, you idiot,'' Shadow replied, but his tone lacked the usual irritation. He even smiled a little, aware that he needed to keep up the conversation so Sonic would stay awake. As for Sonic, he just snorted in amusement.

''Thanks for saving me,'' he muttered with a tired smile on his lips.

''You would've done the same for me,'' Shadow replied in a matter-of-fact tone, with Sonic suddenly falling silent, his gaze falling. Shadow gave him a look of concern, wondering what was wrong. ''Sonic, are you okay?''

''I couldn't save you…''

''What?''

''You fell, and I couldn't save you…'' Sonic whispered, with Shadow's eyes widening as he heard that. He had some idea what Sonic was referring to, but he still wanted a confirmation, choosing to remain silent. Sonic took a deep, albeit shaky, breath. ''I know I was running out of time, but I thought that I would still be able to reach out for you… But, I failed. One moment, you were there, and in the next one, you were gone. I-I regretted it for a long time… I still do.''

''Sonic…'' Shadow finally understood what Sonic meant. He was talking about their battle against the Biolizard, with him having lost his Super Form due to his own inexperience with that form and falling towards Earth. He recalled the conversation he had with Sonic about the latter feeling guilt and regret for not saving one specific person, but he never expected that person to be him. Not only that, but despite his miraculous return, Sonic still blamed himself for what happened, even if it was none of his fault. Shadow had to wonder if his presence was a constant reminder of that moment, each of their encounters adding more and more weight to his sense of guilt. Was his carefree smile really genuine or just a mask he used to hide how he really felt? ''You have no reason to blame yourself for what happened.''

''I do!'' Sonic protested, only to resign himself to the sense of dejection he felt. ''I know you're back, but if I had caught you, you wouldn't have suffered so much…''

''Sonic, the reason you didn't save me was because I stopped you,'' Shadow told him, feeling Sonic shiver as a pair of emerald orbs gazed at him. ''My memory may be hazy, but I recall that I waved you off when you tried to reach for me. You would've fallen along with me if I didn't do that. Besides, the world needed you more than me. I had fulfilled my purpose and I didn't care what would happen to me…''

''I cared,'' Sonic cut him off, his voice uncharacteristically serious. ''The world was safe, but you needed me…'' He snorted, a bitter smile forming on his lips. ''I know I sound stupid, but that's how I felt. Back during our fight in the Void, when you were knocked back and falling into that massive black pit, I was reminded of you falling to Earth all over again, and I was telling myself that I needed to save you even if I fell with you. I'm glad that I had succeeded.''

Sonic fell silent, the memory flashing back in his mind. He could hear his own screams echoing as he rushed towards Shadow, the fear holding a tight grip on his mind as he reached for Shadow before he could disappear into the nothingness. It was a terrifying sensation and Sonic didn't want to go through that again. I won't let Shadow get hurt because of me…

''You don't want to lose me,'' Shadow stated in a quiet tone. Sonic didn't respond, but Shadow spotted the faint dust of red on his fawn muzzle. For a moment, he thought that Sonic had a fever, but when he reached for his forehead to check, Sonic grabbed his hand, not letting go as his lips curved into a cocky smirk, his eyes half-lidded.

''I want to do something stupid…'' Sonic muttered, gazing into Shadow's crimson's eyes, a spark of determination in his emerald eyes. ''If you're gonna get mad at me, could you lecture me when I feel better?''

''That depends on…'' Shadow trailed off when Sonic leaned closer to him, managing to muster enough strength to lift his hand, cupping Shadow's muzzle and crashed his lips against Shadow's, giving into a shockingly tender kiss. The dark hedgehog was left speechless at his rival's boldness, not even knowing how to respond. The kiss may have lasted only a few seconds, with Sonic falling back on the pillow, his fawn muzzle now as red as Shadow's quill marks, but to the hedgehogs, it felt like eternity. There was a sense of heat that spread through their bodies, having nothing to do with the fact that they tried to keep each other warm.

''Shadow, I…''

Shadow placed his hand on Sonic muzzle, noting how he was still a little cold, but there was some colour underneath the fawn fur. He could feel Sonic shiver beneath his fingers, wondering if it was because he was still freezing or because he was fearing Shadow's response. The dark hedgehog could feel just how tense Sonic was, his expression showing how worried he was about Shadow's reaction. Nevertheless, he tried to hide all of that tension behind a nervous smile, acting as if none of this was important. Shadow noted how his rival was still an idiot… but damned if Sonic wasn't his idiot.

Sonic's eyes widened when Shadow suddenly closed the gap between them, kissing him back. He closed his eyes, the familiar sensation of heat spreading in waves across his body as he returned the kiss, allowing Shadow to press him against the pillow, moving his bare hand onto blue shoulder. He placed his own hand on Shadow's chest fluff, curling his fingers as he held onto his fur, not wanting to ever let go of him. Unfortunately, the need for air forced them apart.

''Woah, Shads…'' Sonic gasped.

''Don't think too much of it. Your lips were still cold,'' Shadow replied in his usual serious tone, causing Sonic to snort in amusement, his eyes sparking up as the light returned to them.

''I guess that's one way to warm me up,'' Sonic said, giving Shadow a knowing smirk. ''You like me.''

''Tch, what if I do?'' Shadow responded, not caring anymore for whatever his relationship with Sonic was before all of this. All he wanted to know is how they'd proceed from this point and refusing to let go of his rival until he got an answer that satisfied him.

''I wouldn't mind having you as my boyfriend, Shads'' Sonic admitted, tapping on Shadow's chest. ''That's, if you agree.''

''I don't have any reason to disagree,'' Shadow replied, with Sonic's ears flicking as he beamed at the dark hedgehog. Sure, it wasn't exactly a romantic confession where they would pour their hearts out to each other, but neither of them cared for more conventional interactions. They have bonded through their rivalry, challenging and pushing each other to become better versions of themselves. They knew what they wanted, having learned how to read each other, be it in a battle or during a chance meeting, and were capable of working together in almost perfect sync. They didn't want to change anything about their relationship either, so they viewed this situation as an upgrade to what they already had. It was simple and they were content with it.

''That's settled then,'' Sonic said, looking at Shadow in anticipation. The possibilities were endless.

''There is something I want to know,'' Shadow suddenly said, with Sonic giving him a nonplussed look. ''How long have you kept this to yourself?''

Sonic was caught off guard by this question, but then figured that Shadow deserved an answer. He hummed in thought. ''I… don't really know. Maybe since we started this trip? Maybe since the whole Paradox Prism event? Maybe since I met you for the first time?'' Sonic gave Shadow a sheepish smile. ''I'm not that good with my feelings, so I never thought about it... until now.''

''Maybe it was since you had experienced being cared for by someone who looked like me?'' Shadow suggested, furrowing a brow when Sonic gave him an alarmed look, his fawn muzzle now crimson. ''Don't think I didn't notice, Hedgehog.''

''In my defense, it was nice to interact with a Shadow who was much more open,'' Sonic muttered, puffing his cheeks up as he pouted. His expression changed when Shadow leaned over, his breath ghosting Sonic's lips.

''Your little fantasy is about to come true…'' Shadow whispered, his lips hovering above Sonic's, who closed his eyes, waiting for the dark hedgehog to close the gap, only for a wave of disappointment to wash over him when Shadow leaned back. Shadow smirked when he saw the annoyed look Sonic shot him.

''You're the worst, Shadow,'' Sonic grumbled, glaring at him. Shadow couldn't help but feel amused by Sonic's reaction. It was quite rare to see Sonic annoyed, let alone genuinely angry, thanks to the cobalt hedgehog's perpetual positive attitude. However, Shadow knew better. He knew that there were moments when Sonic was pretending that everything would be fine just to keep his friends and the people who looked up to him happy. He wasn't going to let Sonic drown in that false happiness, just like Sonic would always reach out to him whenever he lost himself in his own negativity. That was an understanding they had never acknowledged, but were always aware that it existed. It was what brought them comfort whenever they were in each other's company.

''I know that you won't be satisfied without getting at least some kind of challenge,'' Shadow told him, with Sonic huffing in response. Despite his own irritation, he knew that Shadow was just teasing him in the same way he would tease the former to get some kind of reaction, and part of him was happy that it worked. Sonic actually felt delighted that he and Shadow reached a point where they were being comfortable opening up to each other like this, calling back how at some point Amy had told him that, for a relationship to work, both parties needed to communicate transparently. He understood what she meant, but he simply wasn't the type to engage in such conversations, even with his closest friends and family. He preferred to comfort and inspire other people instead of opening up about his own insecurities and fears. But with Shadow, it was different. With Shadow, he experienced a strange kind of freedom he never felt before. He wanted it. He needed it. He needed Shadow, and he knew that Shadow needed him.

Sonic couldn't help but smile when Shadow decided to placate him at least a little by nuzzling him. It wasn't a kiss, but that didn't matter, because Sonic was already planning his revenge after he had recovered. While he appreciated Shadow's softer side, he knew they would be back to their usual dynamic and he couldn't wait until he got to mess with Shadow so long until the latter started another fight just to get him to shut up.

''So, now what, Faker?'' Sonic asked, smiling and giving Shadow a half-lidded gaze.

''You are going to rest and recover from nearly getting yourself killed,'' Shadow told him in his usual serious tone, with Sonic having to agree with him. His body was still weak and while he did manage to warm up a little, he was nowhere near his normal temperature.

''Okay, but you will keep me warm however long that takes,'' Sonic stated in the same commanding tone as he jabbed his finger into Shadow's chest, with the latter rolling his eyes, but still kissing him on the cheek, then pulling him closer as he placed his chin on Sonic's head, while Sonic nuzzled into his chest fur, grinning. ''Heh, I could get used to this.''

''You better. I haven't gone through all that Hell for nothing,'' Shadow grumbled, his eyes closed. Sonic snorted in amusement, his eyes to closing as he shifted in the most comfortable position he could manage, finally allowing himself to answer the call of sleep, but not without muttering the one thing that had been intruding his mind for so long and melting in Shadow's arms at his response.

''Love ya, Shads.''

''I love you too.''

Links:

#Previous Chapter

#Current Chapter

#Next Chapter

#With Light In My Heart (Masterlist)

[aleki-lives-here]

I read that one long meta post I just reblogged and a fanfic snippet of the tech working with MB's POV was born. So here.

Part 1??? (I might have a few more ideas for snippets from this POV)

[Look at this

Attachment: funky_graph.image.]

Ginson was really supposed to be working. Te didn't need the fines for getting distracted at ter workplace, te really didn't, but when did Minoa do anything but be distracting? He'd be the death of ter, Ginson was sure.

[What's that?]

[Come on, its work. Just take a look]

Te gave in. [Huh.]

[Fascinating isnt it? It f-ing shifted the whole statistics up with that stunt]

[What happened there?]

[Well thats what I hoped youd tell me :}

Attachment: unit.link]

Ginson glanced at the clock. (Well, te did the feed equivalent of glancing, which really was more like briefly shifting your attention to a background process and suddenly knowing the time. Te always found it annoying that there just weren't the right words to describe what working in the feed felt like.) Te wasn't supposed to take a break for another half hour, but, damn it. Te was nothing if not curious. And Minoa was right, it was work! …almost, in any case. Ginson wasn't the statistician, te worked with constructs directly, as individual Units.

So te loaded the profile and wasn't surprised when ter clearance was enough to access everything. Of course it was one of ter Units. Minoa wouldn't have come to ter if te didn't have what he wanted to know.

Ginson poked around the data, then sent an excerpt. [Client chance of survival predicted at 8.27%. Extraction successful.] Te wondered if it came across as bragging. It sure felt like bragging: that was ter SecUnit! And look at its performance!

[ :( no juicy detail?]

[That's Unit's logs, not your serials.]

[Awww :( ]

Ginson minimized the connection, focusing on the logs of the SecUnit te was actually working on. Te was trying to figure out if a more thorough memory purge was in order. The contract it returned from wasn't the kind of occasion that made such measures mandatory, but it was nasty in the “clients involve their SecUnits in petty infighting” kind of way, and te hadn't yet booted the Unit on to check its performance reliability, but considering its history and age and time since last memory purge...

[There cant not be smth special about the unit.] Minoa sent, because of course he wasn't going to leave ter alone. [Its performance baseline level’s better than most for the last half year, ignoring the spike (which, woah but could be just luck). 

Whats so special about it??

Every other unit is gonna look like theyre underperforming if this goes on XD]

Ginson sighed. The NDA didn't really prohibit ter from talking to another company employee working with the same Units about the information he might actually find useful in his job. And it's not like there was any privacy concern. Te didn't know why te was hesitating, alright? Te'd put a lot of work in here (including unpaid overtime ter manager praised with the kind of smile te hated, it's not like te did it for her, and if she was so happy with ter performance she could hint to the supervisor that a raise is in order, which she hasn't), just to erase the effects of the incident. Bringing it up after that felt… wrong, somehow.

Which, of course, didn't make any sense. And Minoa wouldn't leave ter alone until te admitted, so. [It was from Ganaka Pit.]

[!!!] Came an instant reply. [Damn

Werent they all nonfunctional after that?

How the f did you do that?? :0]

[Memory purge.]

[Ha! Keep your secrets, tech magician

Technician = tech magician. In your case]

Well. It's not like Ginson wasn't proud of ter work here. Te’s done a really, really good job with this one. 

(Te knew that couldn't be the reason for the Unit’s better performance. Returning it to the baseline functionality? Sure, that was ter. And that was a damn good achievement in itself. But te knew te hadn't done anything that would explain the sudden climb of the statistics that happened months after the incident and the repairs. That was the Unit itself.

Ginson wasn't looking too hard into how it achieved that. What mattered was that it worked, and it worked well.

It looked good on ter resume.)

[spade-riddles]

So Karlie has an interview for Elle magazine that I have conflicted feelings about. On the one hand, she ends it talking about the importance of heirloom pieces. Saying her husband bought her a Cartier watch for their wedding and one day she hopes to pass it on to their daughter, if she's lucky enough to have one. It would be stupid to pretend a potential surface reading of this isn't that she plans to stick it out in the lavender marriage with Jerk through a third child. I really don't want this to be the case, but I feel like they've teased us with the hope of it finally being over before, by going dark for weeks, only to suddenly show up again packing on the PR PDA. So . . . who knows. I've been burned too many times before not to be suspicious.

BUT.

If I'm being optimistic. An alternate reading is that the "husband" Karlie is referring to here is actually her wife. We've talked before about the symbolism of Cartier jewelry for these two, and the idea of Taylor gifting Karlie a Cartier watch on the day of her lavender "wedding" fits. Remember the "love locked down" locket during the Tayvin era? We speculated that was to represent Kaylor holding steadfast to each other during the lockdown of the Tayvin contract. Something they could draw strength from. Locket imagery then showed up in Taylor's lyrics, when talking about a secret love.

It makes sense to me that Taylor would repeat this and give Karlie a gift to hold onto during another tough time of romantic lockdown. And watches, clocks, etc have been a recurring theme in Taylor's lyrics since the lavender marriage, just like the locket was before. ("Our old spot by the gold clock" is an example that stands out especially. About a secret meeting place, with someone Taylor fears she keeps letting down. We never could quite figure that one out.) Taylor has also quite literally been wearing watches as jewelry for the TTPD era.

The way Karlie talks about this watch, I'm picturing a gold pocket watch, like in the Bejeweled music video. Fits for an heirloom, and would explain why we've never seen it. It would also explain why the gold compact mirrors keep recurring as imagery - maybe they're stand-ins for a look alike gold watch!

Also of note is that Karlie says she wants to pass this down to her daughter. It reads almost like it was a slip of the tongue? Like she then corrects herself by saying "I have two sons" and "maybe one day". I don't know. I just thought that moment was a little strange. You're pretty much the only blogger I know still on the train of "they had a daughter" and while I respect everyone's opinions on this and have no particular investment in it myself either way (they have kids and they're happy, that's all I need to know), it did seem like . . . in a certain light, you could read it as confirmation of this blog's theory. If we DO get news of a split soon, and this hypothetical third child with Jerk becomes impossible, then that's definitely the light I'll be reading those comments in. A little nod to the truth.

I guess only time will tell.

Thank you for this thorough review. I like your clock analysis. I read the article last night and had this exact same feeling about the daughter comment:

“It reads almost like it was a slip of the tongue? Like she then corrects herself by saying "I have two sons" and "maybe one day". I don't know. I just thought that moment was a little strange.”

Also, while it does imply she is still stunting, we do not know when the interview took place. I have no idea how long it takes from interview to articles published in those magazines. So trying to stay optimistic like you are.

Link to article

[bonny-kookoo]

LO King Yoongi, how did Yoongi and MC meet? How did their relationship evolve?

A/N: Warning for injury, blood, this is LO we're talking about after all haha

You hiss at the rather rough manner the nurse is cleaning the large gash over your back, your tears just quietly falling by now. Neither this planet nor their ruling species do really care much for empathy- you've learned that over the years you've been working at the palace here.

It's better than earth however, since you do have shelter and food here, at least.

You notice how a door opens, and everyone moves away- probably to address whoever just entered the room accordingly. And from the way the nurse closest to you bows, you can only assume who it might be.

"Leave." His voice is the only thing suddenly heard, low and rather monotone. "I'll take over from here." He states, and with that, you simply believe he's probably talking about getting rid of you. After all, you probably embarrassed him to high heavens- you honestly don't know what you were thinking.

It's quiet, the only thing you can hear the jewels on his robes moving as he takes the wet rag to tend to your wound- surprisingly enough a lot more gentle than the people before him. "Do you think of me as a king unfit for his role?" He asks, while he looks around for the needle and thread to sew the worst portion of the gash shut.

"..no." You mumble, voice quivering as you try and control your breathing as you spot him pick up the utensils necessary. His hands are warm against your skin, and you like to pretend that he's trying to sooth you with his touch rather than just doing it to push your skin back together.

"Then why did you do what you did?" He wonders, stopping for a split second as he feels you flinch from the needle going through your skin.

"..you weren't looking." You hiccup, wiping your cheeks quickly before you cover your front properly again. "It.. it wasn't fair." You just say, unable to shrug since you know that would just hurt.

Yoongi simply continues to sew your wound, hand at your front pushing you into a more straightened position, fingers able to feel you trembling from the pain. Did they not give you anything for the pain?

How long can you endure this with your weak body?

What you're correct about is the fairness of it all. The fight had been done, finished as the young man had willingly admitted defeat- just to get up and try to end the King while his back had been turned to return to his throne. And that's where you came in.

Hired from earth as a cheap worker at the palace, you'd been a little bit of a troublemaker all the time. According to other workers, you cry easily, or you'd hug and smile even more whenever someone showed you just a minimum of basic kindness. You're very openly emotional, something that doesn't fit within the usual standard of this planet's ruling species-

but he dismissed it, because down the line, you never complained, and never slacked on your assigned role. In fact, more often than not, you'd work like a ghost- Yoongi had to truly sharpen his senses to even hear you move around in the palace sometimes.

You're not even in a high position at all. You're just a helper that the general staff can use whenever they need you.

So when you jumped entirely out of line and shielded him from the attack he didn't notice quick enough, he didn't really know what to feel at first. In his culture, this is nothing but an insult to his abilities- but you're not of the same species, let alone culture.

You're human, and humans do things that sometimes don't make sense.

"You could've died." He says, trying to make it as quick but thorough as he can.

"..you're more important." You say, shrugging now- and immediately whimpering from it, making the king click his tongue in annoyance before he pushes the front of your shoulder again to make you sit straight.

"Keep that posture or you'll rip the stitches." He scolds, and you just sniffle, continuing to cry. "...I'll order them to give you something to sleep later." he mumbles.

"I have to finish the palace floors-" You start, but he cuts you off.

"You'll do none of that." He denies, quietly finishing your back before he moves to clean everything one last time, beginning to dress it. "You've earned your place." He simply tells you, placing the patches of dressing material dipped in medicine over your wound. He's silently impressed by how well you push through this- he's heard of humans passing out from much less than what you're experiencing right now.

"What do you mean?" You ask, as he wraps the gauze around you.

"You've proven strength." He explains, carefully finishing up his work. "And it's about time I chose anyways." He simply says, fixing the gauze before he let's go- making you turn a little bit, hands still covering your chest as you look up at him with eyes still full of tears.

"Chose what?" You wonder, and he reaches out to wipe your cheeks a little roughly.

"A fitting Queen."

[starlightiing]

NOT a fic, just a blurb. Pierresteban and 'frantic' 'desperate' or 'gentle' !

Pierresteban Request || Accepting!

Esteban does not panic. It simply isn't written into his blood like it is for some people. He works tirelessly on his mentality alongside his physical training to make sure he stays alert, focused, and able to roll with the punches that are inevitably going to be thrown his way at the dawn of a new race weekend.

He does not panic.

So its obvious to him that he is clearly not panicking when Pierre comes into the nearly-empty garage later that night looking for him. His elevated heart rate and shallow breathing will pass in time, just like they always do. He doesn't understand why Pierre looks at him with so much concern in those usually bright, sparkling blue eyes, or why he's being held up in arms that are familiar and yet oh so painfully unfamiliar at the same time. He can't understand why Pierre is speaking right in front of him but it sounds like he's miles away.

When did his body start trembling?

When did his face and hands begin to tingle?

"-teban?" Pierre's voice filters in and out, but the sound of his name is enough to grab his attention. He looks up at Pierre and - wait - why does he need to look up?

"-ban, look at me." Pierre's voice fills his head again, blessedly louder than the violent and frantic thumping of his heartbeat in his ears. Esteban is on the floor of the garage, Pierre's arms helping to hold him steady, with his gaze desperate and concerned as he makes firm eye contact with Esteban. "That's it. Don't look away."

"Why - why would I -?"

"Shh, not yet. We are breathing now. Deep breaths."

Deep breaths. Sure, Esteban can manage some deep breaths. Of course, it's only now that he realizes he's been hyperventilating for the past five minutes and suddenly the tingling in his hands and face make sense.

For fuck's sake, he's actually panicking.

"Pierre, I -"

"Ah, ah, breathing. Tell me after."

Esteban nods curtly, still feeling oddly detached from his own body as he processes the fact that he is panicking. His hands are shaking, his heart is racing almost nearly as fast as it does when he's driving - the rhythm so frantic and desperate that it almost hurts as it drums away in his chest. His breaths are shallow and quick, and he knows Pierre is right. He has to breathe, nice and deep and calm. He has to hold the air in his lungs a few seconds and let it out slowly, and continue this process until his body gets the message and calms itself down.

And Pierre is nothing if not thorough and on point. Esteban cannot find the rhythm himself so Pierre creates one for him, breathing in the exact pattern he wants Esteban to follow. Esteban watches Pierre's chest rise and fall slowly and finally decides to give it a shot on the third repetition. He breathes, following Pierre like a lost puppy, until he can manage to hold the rhythm on his own.

"There you go, you will be okay now." Pierre says gently, and though Esteban feels like he's just run a marathon and an endurance race combined, he nods.

"Thank you," he replies, once he finds the strength to use his voice again. "I don't know what happened-"

"I do." Pierre interjects, tossing Esteban a sad smile. "But we'll talk about that later. Right now, let's get out of this garage and back to the hotel."

Esteban nods.

Yeah, yeah. He will be okay now.

[thanklessindubai]

Armand & the Talamasca

I'm just gonna say, it would make so much sense to me if it was Rashid who put the Stein photos in Louis' portfolio. It's such an ultimately meaningless thing in terms of stakes for Armand, ("Wouldn't it make Louis happy to impress Daniel?") but it could mean a lot to the Talamasca.

Because fucking with Louis' shit and making it look like Armand did it drives another wedge between them, and that's perfect for Rashid's real boss, Raglan James.

The Talamasca wants the interview to be published (with them having the final edit) but as long as Armand is around, there's a good chance it'll be buried to protect Louis from retribution from other vampires, and of course, to protect all of vampire kind from hunters. Apparently, people have attempted to do what Daniel was doing before and they didn't survive.

Also, nearly all of the information Daniel uses to drive them apart comes directly from the Talamasca, like the '73 audio and the Trial script with Armand's notes.

PS, it would also be super fun to me if the Talamasca was fucking with Armand specifically, since in the books, Armand knows who they are, and they were, for so long, the only humans who knew who Armand was.

"No," Armand whispered. Small shake of his head. He was in a silent fury, Daniel could feel it. He had the rigid glassy look he always got when profoundly offended. "Talamasca," he whispered, with a faint uncharacteristic sneer.

"Talamasca." The word struck Daniel suddenly as beautiful. Talamasca. [...] "But what does it really mean?" he asked.

"It means Lestat is a fool," Armand said. Flicker of deep pain in his eyes. "But it makes no difference now." -- QotD

"The article's about him, and about his Theater of the Vampires. Here's an English journal from 1789. That's a full eighty years earlier, I believe. But you will find another very thorough description of the establishment and the same young man."

"The Theater of the Vampires…" She stared up at the auburn-haired boy kneeling in the painting. "Why, this is Armand, the character in the novel!" -- QotD

[jigensnacks]

okay okay hear me out

ima put this under a read more because i know there are people around who are generally uncomfortable with content relating to alcohol

but! I had a revelation about Jigen and his alcohol preferences.

Disclaimer, I am mildly tipsy as I am writing this. I may or may not get lost in my own thoughts, so please bear with me here, alright?

Content warnings: alcohol (of course), alcohol abuse, maybe more. I dunno at the moment.

Okay. Jigen's alcohol preferences.

At first I couldn't wrap my head around Jigen's appreciation of wine, like that guy's a borderline alcoholic with the way he drinks (which I extend into full-blown alcoholism in my writing, I'll get to this later on), he cannot possibly like wine, wine is weak, why would he even like the stuff?

I came at the issue from the point of view of someone who prefers liquor. Stuff like vodka, whiskey, borovička. You know, the heavy artillery. Poisons that dull the mind and destroy the liver.

But I've tried wine recently. Got the explanation of the ritual of wine-drinking.

And then it suddenly clicked.

Wine has its purpose in Jigen's toolkit of escapism. You have the cigarettes, a way to remind himself that he's not in danger, that he's out of the fight and just vibing, passing time, relaxing. Then there's scotch, the first-aid kit, when everything is too much and he's antsy and nervous and he needs to dull the edge. It's the painkiller, in a way. The glue to mend those invisible wounds, the cause and solution of all of world's problems.

And then there is wine.

It's not to be wielded like a sledgehamer known as liquor. Wine is a delicate tool, when liquor is too much, when he wants to relax, but he doesn't want to dull his senses too much. There aren't any demons to suffocate, he doesn't want to get drunk, his only intention is just to sit down, lean back, have a moment to himself.

To Jigen, wine is like classical music. It's not something to binge, but to immerse himself in, soak in it, have slow, ginger sips. Relish in the taste, the warmth. There's a reason the ancient Romans and Greeks had a god of wine.

Now, how does this tie to my 'Jigen is a barely functional alcoholic' headcanon?

It's the antithesis of liquor. Liquor is the main poison, Jigen pours it into himself to drown out the noise in his head, the lingering pains, to keep his limbs heavy and limp to keep himself from doing something worse. It's his salvation and his downfall, it frees the demons lurking in his mind, yet it keeps them docile, harmless. It allows his mind to swim along, face his fears, it frees his feelings... but it's also a pathway to destruction. With his thoughts and feelings freed comes a different danger - self-destruction. Liquor becomes not only the tool of healing, but one of destruction too. When a heist goes off the rails and they make it home, when the crushing weight of failure sets in and Lupin looks at him with a gaze full of apologies, that's when Jigen grabs his poison of choice and takes his anger out on himself. While Goemon subjects himself to gruelling training to make sure he doesn't fail again, Jigen instead drinks himself mute, lies on the ground staring emptily at the ceiling, reliving every past mistake. That's the start of the cycle, he falls into the drink, struggles to get out of it for months on end. Until his body starts showing the withdrawal symptoms when he's sobering up, the headaches, the feeling of a thousand ants marching all over his skin, the shadow people staring at him, the music plaing from the walls, the muffled conversations from other rooms that never happened, the way his hands shake...

Wine is a way for him to pace himself. His philosophy around wine is basically if someone drinks wine like liquor, there ain't no use hanging around them. Jigen doesn't want wine to become just another tool of thorough self-annihilation. Jigen sees wine as a way to regain control again. It's much weaker than liquor (if we ignore port wine, but I suspect he wouldn't like such wines), and, unlike the heavy artillery he relies on, wine has personality. While liquor is the path of scorched earth, wine is so much calmer. It has a soul, personality, it evolves like classical music. It has elaborate constructions, just swap the musical tones for taste ones.

He reaches for the wine when he doesn't want to fall into that horrible spiral.

Wine - along with food - marks the line between functionality and destruction.

Wine isn't something he can drink quickly. He tried, and found out it only makes him sick.

So he grabs a bottle of a four-year-old italian merlot. Pours himself a glass. Takes a sip. Feels the slight sourness at the back of his tongue. The woody tones playing at the rest of it. The sweetness at the very tip.

He stares down the beast. Sleeping, yet aware. And while he stays with the wine, it'll remain asleep.

I don't know where I was going with this. I blame the wine.

[nagannach]

Actually, Taco Did Abandon Book

(ft. a thorough dismantling of the "but she was in a jawbreaker" defense)

The Bleh arc is the worst thing to come out of the BFB series. The writing is sloppy, the characterization is sloppy, it has horrible morals, and its ending was incredibly unsatisfying. Many of these traits stem from the fact that the entire premise of the arc is false.

By far the most commonly circulated lie in the community is that Taco never abandoned Bleh. Not only is this not true, but it is an indisputable fact that not only did Taco abandon them, but she abandoned them multiple times.

It's a near-universal consensus among the community that Taco being in the jawbreaker for three weeks automatically means that she didn't abandon the team. This is not true; in fact, being in the jawbreaker for three weeks is proof that she did abandon the team. If she really was stuck in there for such a long time, how was she able to break out of it in such a short timespan in BFB 3? Why didn't she try that any earlier than she did?

If you look closely at the post-credits scene of BFB 2, you'll notice that Taco never actually made a genuine attempt to get out of the jawbreaker. She actually managed to lick her way through a substantial portion of it, but she would never try that again for the entire duration of her stay. She also never tried rolling around to get someone's attention even when people were running past her. Taco most certainly wanted to get out of the jawbreaker, but she didn't actually put in any work herself - she expected someone else to do it for her. However, none of her teammates were able to break her out because none of them knew she died in BFB 1, they didn't know she died because they all died before her, and they all died before her because Taco led them all to their deaths. Dora and Saw did survive, but since Dora couldn't communicate to the rest of the team what she saw, and BFB 13 showed that Saw is fairly tight-lipped, it's likely that they (and perhaps Lollipop) were the only ones who knew what happened.

I'd also like to note that Taco killing her teammates in BFB 1 is not only the reason why none of them broke Taco out of the jawbreaker, but also the reason why Taco was in the jawbreaker in the first place. In order for the jawbreaker challenge to be done, at least seven contestants would have to be dead at the end of BFB 1. There were nine, six of which were killed by Taco, including Taco herself. Had she spared just one of her teammates, she never would've been in the situation she was in - there would've been exactly seven contestants in jawbreakers after Four revived Tennis Ball, one for each of the seven safe teams. Everything bad that ever happened to Taco was a direct result of her own actions.

I've seen people defend her by saying that she was demotivated, which is a bit odd for someone who was so headstrong and arrogant that she led almost all her teammates to their deaths in the previous episode to give up so easily. First, her first "attempt" to get out of the jawbreaker (licking through it) came after more than 10 days of doing absolutely nothing. Second, since her first attempt actually bore fruit, it would've made sense for that to motivate her and make her continue breaking through the jawbreaker, but it didn't. Third, it's missing the point - BFB 2 and 3 showed that opening a jawbreaker isn't a difficult task, so Taco should've been able to get out very early. Fourth, it's ignoring the sheer amount of time Taco was in the jawbreaker for. Why didn't she get a sudden spark of motivation during the three weeks she was in the jawbreaker? Finally, if she really was as demotivated as she was, why was she so moved by Saw? How did she suddenly gain the mental fortitude to get out of the jawbreaker after allegedly spending three weeks trying and failing? All signs point to Taco never trying to get out of the jawbreaker until she realized that nobody would do it for her (but not realizing why nobody would do it for her).

No matter how you interpret the evidence, there are three facts you must concede: the possibility that Taco could've gotten out of the jawbreaker much earlier than she did cannot be denied, Taco has zero evidence in her favor ("she was in a jawbreaker" does not count), and Book has every reason to believe that Taco acted in bad faith (remember BFB 1?). These three facts will remain true throughout the entirety of BFB, and the evidence for the latter two will continue to pile up as time goes on.

If your team believes you abandoned them and all the available evidence suggests that you abandoned them (because you abandoned them), the last thing you'd want to do is abandon them again, but that is exactly what Taco did. Book never shunned Taco - Taco shunned Book. At no point in BFB did Taco ever try talking to Book or anyone else on the team (even after she was revived after being dead for two months - she didn't even say anything about BFB 6), and at no point did anyone prevent her from doing so - instead, she ignored them for just over two years.

After her team gave her a piece of their minds at the end of BFB 3, she pouted on the swing set instead of following them despite the fact that Book and Saw were visibly hurt by what she did. In BFB 4, she completely refused to stand near her teammates even though Book was still hurt. She didn't even apologize - instead, she minimized her feelings and acted like what she did "wasn't that bad". Taco treated Book like a disposable tool (using her once in BFB 1 and then discarding her), and instead of making her feel better, she poured salt into her wounds. In BFB 6, she abandoned her team in the middle of the challenge - there's no other way to describe it. Whether it helped her team or not (it really shouldn't have - there was so much that could've gone wrong with her plan that the only way it could've worked was authorial bias) is irrelevant. She didn't even ask if her teammates were okay with it or discuss her plans with them or even give them a heads-up - she just left. The next time she saw her teammates was in BFB 10, where she didn't even talk to them - instead, she talked to Bell solely because she thought she was still on her side. (Her intent wasn't to apologize - there's a reason she spoke to Bell and not her teammates.) Taco abandoned them again in BFB 11 - she didn't appear once during that episode and never volunteered to do the challenge. In BFB 12, when Book thought Taco abandoned her, Taco completely ignored her. Finally, in BFB 13, Taco abandoned the team twice, once before the challenge and once during the challenge, while also admitting that she never wanted to talk to anyone on her team. (Also, Saw revealed that she abandoned the team in the same episode with the flimsiest excuse imaginable, and nobody cared because screw Book, I guess.)

Not once did Taco say anything to her teammates from BFB 5 all the way to BFB 15, and there were only two episodes where she held a conversation with any of them: BFB 1 and BFB 16. Taco hurt people, but at no point did she even try to patch things up with them. Just like with the jawbreaker, she expected everyone she hurt to suddenly be okay with her while putting in zero effort to rebuild the bridges that she burned. However, unlike with the jawbreaker, Taco never realized that she actually has to work in order to get what she wants - BFB 10 and 13 proved that. She never thought about what Book or anyone else actually wanted - she only ever did what she wanted. She never knew what she did wrong and shifted the blame onto everyone else (as BFB 15 showed), and other people suffered because of her lack of self-awareness.

The community thinks so negatively of pre-split Book and so positively of pre-split Taco because that's what jacknjellify wanted. Throughout BFB, they intentionally ignored and invalidated her feelings and pretended she was never hurt when she very clearly was. The goal was to make Book look insane so people would instinctively tune her out when listening to her. By making Book look ridiculous, they drew attention away from the numerous times Taco abandoned the team. They also drew attention away from the way Taco treated her teammates (as well as Bell and Bottle) by focusing entirely on Book and making Taco look like the victim. In reality, Taco was the aggressor, and Book was the victim.

It's a common belief that Book never gave Taco a chance to prove herself. This is not true; Taco had many chances to show that she did care about the team. She just never took any of them because she didn't care about the team.

tl;dr Book is the one who was right all along, but for her, it wasn't better to be laughed at than wrong.