#and yes its not dating but its not devoid of... something

[rius-cave]

In my head, Lute is the only person who knows about Adam and Lucifer because she had to listen to Adam complain about him one too many times for it not to be obvious.

Anyway, she comes down to see Adam during his redemption journey and starts teasing him about it, expecting him to brush it off like before. Well no. Apparently, not only have they been fucking (dating is questionable, but it’s definitely not without feelings), but it was a secret.

And now everyone knows.

Are we working on the basis that Adam and Lucifer have had something before season 1? Because that's galaxy brained.

I do like thinking of them having a fling, or an almost-but-not-quite thing before Lilith was created, just because I love adding salt to the wound of "oh Adam you've fallen so low" and all that.

If that's the case, then yes, Adam has definitely told Lute. Only when he gets drunk, though, I don't think he's particularly proud of it. And then Lute pretends she never heard it but is internally screaming.

[makeyoumine69]

i would love to see more jealous patrick ❤️😫

Hello, dear anon!💗

Ohhh, jealous Patrick is a thing!

In the middle of dinner with Bateman's family in Dorsia, the reservation Patrick had been trying to get all week, you needed a moment to powder your nose. On your way back to your table, you were playing with the ring Patrick had gifted you a week ago—a huge gem shone on it whenever you rolled it between your fingers—but when you were distracted by the waiter, you accidentally dropped the ring, and if the stranger hadn't caught it, it would have rolled across the floor to God only knew where.

"Oh, thank you so much!" You beamed and smiled as the unfamiliar but handsome man returned the ring.

"It's nothing, really." He replied, examining you curiously from head to toe.

Such attention made you embarrassed, but then you felt a burning sensation between your shoulders. When you turned around, you locked your confused gaze with Bateman's, his hazel eyes piercing through yours like sharp daggers.

"Uh, thanks again! But I have to go!" With these words you walked away from the stranger before he could tell you something else.

Sheepishly you approached the table where Patrick, his parents and his brother Sean with his date were waiting for you. And even though Bateman's face was devoid of emotion, the moment you took your seat, his large palm found its way to your inner thigh in the blink of an eye.

"So, who was that guy?" He whispered in your ear, leaning closer so only you could hear. "And why was he touching you?"

You let out a shaky breath and smiled politely over Mrs. Bateman's comment that she was glad you were finally back. "What?" You asked bewilderedly without looking at the man next to you. "I just dropped my ring."

"You dropped the ring?" Patrick almost chuckled, his hand diving deeper between your legs under the table, forcing you to grab it to keep him from going any further. "Forgot how to wear a ring, sunshine?" The man took the opportunity to nip at your neck while everyone at the table was busy with each other. "When we get home, I'll remind you… I'll remind you of everything."

His skillful fingers reached beneath your skirt no matter how hard you tried to stop them. Now, they were brazenly playing with the lace of your panties and perfectly hiding beneath the soft material of your dress.

"Patrick," you gasped, gripping the table to stifle a moan as Bateman pressed his thumb against your blushing clit. "Please," your pathetic pleas only brought a broad grin to his smug face. "Stop."

And then Patrick's mother asked you a question you couldn't even hear as your whole body was focused on the rising tension in your lower abdomen as the man was relentless in his intentions to work you up.

"Excuse me…could you please repeat your question? You asked, completely awkward.

Patrick smirked arrogantly and leaned back in his chair. "She asked if you liked the food," he muttered mockingly, before shoving his two digits into your oozing pussy. "Believe me, Mother, she is enjoying the evening. Am I right, honey?"

Paralyzed, you were about to explode at how shamelessly Bateman was behaving, literally fingering you in front of his family. Biting your lower lip for a second, you tried to take a sip of mineral water, but the man wouldn't let you as he intensified his ministrations, curling his fingers to stimulate that spongy spot inside you that made you grip the surface of the table once again.

"Yes…everything is perfect," you managed to blurt out, sensing the cool metal of his Rolex gliding along your hot skin, the contrast only heightening the pleasure. "Thank you, Patrick."

"You're welcome, darling," the man chirped, leaning closer to peck your cheek in an affectionate, pretending way, only to purr into your ear. "Tonight I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't even remember your own name." And with that, Bateman sat back, looking cheeky as ever, as he felt your inner walls contracting around his fingers once he began to rub your little bud with his thumb.

Mrs. Bateman couldn't help but smile. "Oh, you two are so adorable! Such a loving couple."

With a soft chuckle, Patrick grinned in pure delight. "Thank you. We really are."

Bastard.

Thank you for the reading!🖤 [MAIN M-LIST]🪓[SHORT REQUESTS M-LIST]🪓[KO-FI]

[adore-laur]

hiii lovely i don’t know if you take requests but if you do please can we have an angsty piece for dadrry, like i know we had the christmas fight but like maybe h says something super mean to yn during an argument or he’s been super busy with work and he ends up being neglectful and stuff, and like i wanna see the groveling!!! it’s just a request if you don’t do angst i get it, but i would really love to see it !! no pressure tho xx

NEED YOU NOW

——

The time was 7:55 p.m., nearly three hours past when Harry had promised to be home. The plate of food you had made him sat cold on the countertop. It’d been his to make, but when you heard that he was staying late at the restaurant, you threw a quick meal together that was subpar even by your standards.

Truthfully, you were livid. Harry's paid paternity leave expired a week ago, and he was already breaking promises. I will always be home for dinner, he had vowed when you began to dread the day he put his white chef coat back on and left you to parent alone. Remarkably, he had upheld it thus far. You just didn't think he would let it collapse so soon.

You stewed over it in bed while trying—and failing—to put your four-month-old daughter down to sleep. It was the first time you had to do it by yourself, and to say it was shaping up to be a colossal catastrophe was an understatement. You didn't possess Harry's deep, soothing voice that was practically a lullaby of its own, nor did you possess his natural, rhythmic hip sway while rocking her to sleep. So, yes, there was a tiny kernel of resentment building pressure inside of you because of your shortcomings as a parent, and it could explode any second now. Because missing dinner was one thing, but missing the baby's bedtime? Outrageous.

Restless cries rattled around the room as her body squirmed in the bedside bassinet. The probability of you joining in on her meltdown was soaring higher as the sky darkened. Nothing you were doing was successful in calming her conniption—not nursing, ocean air, white noise, or even her trusty pacifier could settle those high-pitched wails that simultaneously broke your heart and frazzled your nervous system beyond its regular state. You were determined to remedy the situation as a perfectly capable mother, but in your heart of hearts, you knew that sometimes you weren't the needed parent. Tonight, Harry was the desired nurturer. And he wasn't here.

With clammy palms, you surrendered your pride and unlocked your phone to call Harry. The last text he had sent was at 4:37. It read: I won't be home until late tonight. Don't know what time. I'm sorry. Out of frustration, you had left him with no response.

The ringing tone droned, and you held no hope that he'd answer. Realistically, there was no open opportunity to take a phone call in a fast-paced restaurant kitchen. The cogs needed to be moving at all times—otherwise, the wheel would splinter. You had accepted it years ago.

When you first started dating Harry, it had been strenuous finding time for each other. On a lucky day, you'd talk to him during his lunch break. Weekends bestowed the moments that made the relationship flourish. It should have gotten more manageable after many years, but as a new mother, it wasn't something you could handle like a champ anymore.

Therein lay the problem: You had become too comfortable with having Harry home for twelve weeks. Calibrating to the changes that parenthood presented was much easier with a dedicated husband ready to face them with you. It had been a luxury to be a team from sunrise to sunset and every nocturnal hour that you both spent devoid of energy. Your steadfast lover, now far away from you.

"Hello?"

You jolted, surprised to hear Harry's voice. It caused relief and rage to clash within you—not a pleasurable combination. "How much longer are you working?"

His sigh was smothered by scattered voices speaking in the background and kitchenware clanging noisily. "I don't know. We're finishing the dinner rush, and there's still loads of cleaning to do. Trust me, I've been trying to make an exit for the past two hours, but the orders keep coming."

"I need you here, Harry," you said shakily. "I can't do this by myself."

"Do what by yourself? What's going on?"

Rage won the internal battle and staked its claim over your sensibility. "Seriously? I have a baby that won't stop crying, a husband that has been missing in action for the past three hours, and I'm on the verge of a mental breakdown."

"You never texted me back," Harry said, sounding like his focus was split half on the conversation and half on whatever task he was doing. "Have you tried walking her around outside? Maybe some fresh air will help."

You stood and started pacing around the room. "I tried that. I need your help. She wants nothing to do with me."

"Honey, I... I can't right now. I have to be here."

"Please," you begged, panic crawling up your throat. Could he even hear the baby crying on your end? How could he possibly understand your crisis through a muddled phone call? "I'm telling you I need you now."

"And I'm telling you I have a kitchen to run," he replied firmly. His tone softened when he added, "If I could leave right now, I would. It's just not viable when it's been this busy."

You stayed silent, chewing on his weak explanation. All your pent-up exasperation was simmering and had nowhere to go, so you infused your next words with it. "You're being neglectful."

"What?" Harry said. You could picture him with that cute little divot between his eyebrows, except the reasoning behind it wasn't so cute this time. "Wait, hold on, hold on. Say that again? Shit, I can't focus." A loud clattering of metal punctuated his rambling.

There was no fight left in you. Numbly, you walked over to the bay window and watched the ocean tide swell under the moon. "Never mind. Go finish what's clearly more important."

"Listen, it's hard to hear you in here. Can I call you back in... um, I don't know, fifteen minutes?" He didn't seem angry and didn't sense the urgency you were conveying. He just seemed distracted, and it felt like a bruising kick while you were already down.

"Bye, Harry." You hung up, not regretting your stubbornness. His communication during the day had been meager. He should have known to keep you in the loop after three hours of waiting for him to come home. You had hung on by a thread and wondered if this would become the norm. You thought he was done with his old tendencies of being a yes-man.

What mattered to you the most was that Harry knew when to put family first, and tonight, you and your daughter were put on the back burner.

With two tears slipping down your cheeks, you succumbed to the feeling of utter helplessness.

——

Harry unlocked the front door, trying to recall the last time he had come home at nine-thirty at night. Surely months ago, when you were heavily pregnant and couldn't sleep. He used to take you for slow drives around the neighborhood and play with your hair in hopes of lulling you into a deep slumber. Worked like a charm every time.

God, he knew you were pissed at him. He was in the doghouse for good reason. Usually, you'd greet him at the door, happy to see him. Now, the quiet bounced off the walls uncannily.

He had barely been able to concentrate on anything while in the thick of dinner service. Too many stressors flew around the kitchen like bullets. It had been the absolute worst moment to respond to your panicked phone call. Why had he said yes to staying late? The agreement was to work from seven to five, Tuesday through Friday. He failed you today, and it killed him.

Ever since the baby was born, Harry had turned into a homebody. He loved seeing every room hold signs of his little girl. Milk bottles in the refrigerator; tiny onesies in the washer; storybooks on the nursery's rocking chair; the tummy time mat on the living room carpet; the foldable bathtub in the kitchen sink (he planned to research if adults could use baby shampoo since the smell was irresistible). He had gotten so attached to the routine that it came as no surprise: his first week back at work had been hell. He had messed up several times, struggling to get back in the groove. His hands moved slower, his mind on overload as he played catch-up with the twelve weeks he missed. Everything there felt foreign, and it sparked a realization that nothing came as close to feeling natural as being a dad did.

Harry shook his head to clear the tornado whirling around his brain and turned on the kitchen light. He immediately spotted his plate of dinner waiting for him, a depressing reminder of his broken vow.

An awful feeling sank like a stone in his stomach. This was all wrong. It was supposed to go like this: Harry, ravenous and in dire need of affection, would arrive home at five, the sun still shining. He would kiss you in the foyer as you passed over his daughter. She would coo happily, the weight of her in his arms a precious comfort. He'd then carry her and entertain her with silly voices and other theatrical dad antics before getting started on cooking dinner. Then the night would slowly progress, and as everyone's eyes grew heavy with sleep, he'd wait until you were done nursing before burping a full-bellied baby and setting her in the bassinet.

And who was to blame for blowing that beautiful sequence to smithereens? This guy.

When Harry reached the hallway, he shivered. Was the window open? There was a chilly draft floating around, and when he peeked his head past the bedroom doorway, his assumptions were proven correct. There you were on the cushioned windowsill seat, the glittering moonlight illuminating your sleeping frame as you held his baby girl against your chest. She was asleep as well, with her limbs tucked all cozily in your motherly embrace. Harry just stood and watched for a minute, the day's stress cascading off his shoulders. Home. This was what remained the most paramount part of his life. He needed to apologize before you formed a grudge.

He didn't want to wake you or the baby, especially considering the overwhelming night you had helmed, so he hopped in the shower to contemplate the best way to handle... whatever had occurred over the phone. Harry knew that the postpartum phase was treating you roughly—your anxiety was a tight rubber band ready to snap at any moment. He hadn't fully grasped the reality of you doing the bedtime routine alone. How hard it probably had been with a baby experiencing major sleep regression. He'd thought your using the word neglectful was harsh, but it was fair.

With a cleansed body and mind, Harry exited the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. The breeze blowing in from the open window was too brisk for his liking, so he walked over and reached past you to close it. It squeaked, and he winced when you stirred awake. He stalled his movements as you came into consciousness, slowly and with weariness.

How motherhood looked on you was a thing of beauty. Even in the most ordinary moments, you were radiant, emanating warmth and solace. You were this family's guiding light.

Eventually, you swung your legs over the edge of the windowsill seat and stared at him blankly. Guilt struck Harry speechless, and all he could do was sink to his knees and press his face into your shin, like Stephan Sinding's Adoration. "Please forgive me, baby," he murmured, kissing your almond-scented skin. "I'm so sorry. There's no excuse."

When you remained silent, Harry lifted his face and looked at you. The sight of your expression crumpling and tears welling in your eyes shattered his heart. He got up to sit beside you, pulling you and your daughter into a remorseful hug. "I've made you cry. I'm awful, aren't I?"

You sniffled. "No, you're not. I just don't understand."

"Can I try to explain?" he asked.

You nodded and let your head fall limply on his shoulder. Harry was grateful you weren't shunning him. After pressing a soft kiss to your temple, he said, "You needed me tonight, and I fell short as your husband and as her father." He stroked his baby girl's back, his palm nearly covering the entirety of it. "It was an unexpectedly chaotic day at work, and I... I don't know, it's like I forgot how to hold the reins. All my skill retention just vanished. It was bizarre, and I'm sure it has to do with being sleep-deprived, but it shouldn't have pushed me to stay late. I should've put our family first, and I'm sorry you felt neglected. That wounds me to hear that." He grabbed your hand and held it against his heart, leaning down to kiss your knuckles tenderly. "So, from now on, I will be home for dinner. I will be here for bedtime. I will be here when you need me, for whatever reason. Because when you hurt, I hurt. And I don't ever want to make you feel like that again. Don't want you to doubt starting a family with me."

You were crying against his neck, and Harry couldn't tell if it was a good or bad sign. Every word he had said was honest. Poured straight from his soul. It was a vow to be better and to learn from his mistakes. The adjustment from a blissful four months experiencing fatherhood at home to transitioning right into a forty-hour workweek had been messy, and it still would be in the weeks to come, so he hoped you understood that he was trying. It would all balance out soon enough. It just took time.

"Talk to me, sweetheart," Harry whispered to you. His daughter was making whiny noises now, so he carefully took her from your arms and cuddled her close. It felt like his vital purpose.

Meanwhile, you inhaled a few deep breaths to collect yourself. Your hand gripped the towel around his waist, and you gasped before saying, "This whole time, I thought you were naked."

He laughed, thankful for the brief levity. "I think you're still dreaming, sleepyhead." A small smile lifted your lips, and he had no choice but to kiss them. He'd been gone for far too long today.

"I forgive you," you said quietly. "I trust that you won't let this become a habit. I think there were heightened emotions from both of us, for valid reasons, and I found it hard to communicate exactly what I needed."

"You needed me," Harry replied, feeling guilt creep its way back into his mind.

"I know, but I can't always expect you to drop everything when you're needed elsewhere. That's not fair."

He nodded. "Still, you're my partner. It's my responsibility to make you feel adored, and since I blundered that today, how about if I take all the night shift duties this weekend?"

Your eyes fluttered shut, relief softening your facial features. "That would make me feel very adored."

"Yeah?" He kissed your forehead. "And since tomorrow's Saturday, I think I'll treat you to breakfast in bed."

You hummed, pleased as punch. "Tell me more."

"We'll sit on the porch swing and drink coffee," he continued, the domestic visualization sending a rush of heat through him. "Watch the sunrise and listen to the mourning doves."

"No, I meant tell me more about treating me to things in bed."

"Oh, my sincerest apologies," Harry said with an amused laugh. "Are we talking about innocent bed activities, or...?"

You were in a reverie, no doubt thinking of not-so-innocent activities. "Remember our wedding night when we tried using that—" A sudden and sharp wail sliced through your sentence, and in Harry's mind, he caught a brief flash of the memory: you, perched seductively on the living room sofa in the newly purchased beach house, more breathtaking than the ocean view in the distance. Harry, unable to believe he had found you and got to treasure your love for life. And yeah... he couldn't possibly forget that ridiculous toy he'd been gifted with at his bachelor party. Moving on.

"Let's all get some sleep so we can act alive tomorrow," Harry said. When he stood to start rocking the baby, the loosened towel dropped to the floor, leaving him stark naked in the moonlight. You giggled, and the sound was like a shot of bliss straight into his veins. He laughed too, drowsiness finally hitting him. It would be a long night ahead, and although he would likely rack up a measly four hours of sleep, knowing he’ll wake up beside you and have only dad-related obligations for the next three days made it sound peachy.

For the first time that day, a sense of calmness washed over him. Home, sweet home.

——

[milktei]

Homecoming

Ushijima Wakatoshi x gn!reader

Genre: Sickfic, hurt comfort

Warnings: Slight manga spoilers

Requests: Closed*

a/n: hello hello! (is acting like i haven’t been gone for forever), can you believe i found this just sitting on a random note in my phone 90% done???? i literally wrote this over a year ago and never found the motivation to finish it ;-; due to its age toshi might be a bit ooc.

anyways, i’m not entirely back yet but i keep seeing lovely comments and reblogs that just make me want to start writing again ;-; maybe with the haikyuu movie being released soon my motivation will amp back up. ALSO i’m gonna try to start reblogging regularly again

*request box is still technically “closed” but if anyone has some genshin or *ahem* Baldurs gate 3 requests, i may be inclined to write if they pique my interest :)

enjoy!

If there was one thing that you knew for an absolute fact. it would be that volleyball would always be his main priority.

You knew this well before you started dating him, it was part of the reason you refused to admit your true feelings for him. You refused to take him away from his first love. Something that he was so visibly passionate about.

So you stayed on the sidelines, watching wistfully as the boy you had a crush on rose higher and higher, while you stood on the ground looking up in awe. This was comfortable, you were content with just watching and admiring. It was all you thought you were able to do.

Until he had asked you out first.

You had genuinely thought that Tendou was joking when he had told you that the Ushijima Wakatoshi saw you as anything more than one of the team’s managers.

His face was always devoid of emotion. Your interactions were limited to him nodding in thanks as you gave him a towel or water bottle, or him humming in acknowledgment as you relayed to him the notes you took after the most recent practice match.

And yet you found yourself standing in front of him, just outside the gym after practice, heart absolutely racing as he asked you out on a date.

Your first date was awkward to say the least. Having never spoken outside of club activities, you found it hard to keep a conversation flowing as you two sat in a cafe sipping your drinks.

He had walked you back to your dorm that day, but before you could go in, he had grabbed your hand.

You stared in shock at the large hand enveloping yours, “Ushijima?”

Suddenly, you felt a tiny gust of wind and a slight pressure against your forehead. You could only stammer dumbly as you realized the pressure was his lips.

He pulled away after a moment. He was heavily avoiding eye contact and turned his head to the side, but you could see the tips of his ears turning red.

“I don’t know much when it comes to this stuff. But I know I would like to go out again… if that’s okay with you of course.”

You gaped at the boy in front of you “I- um we…” you took a deep breath to centre yourself and smiled “Yes I would like to go out with you again Ushijima.”

Your relationship progressed quite fast after that. More dates, hanging out with him and Tendou in their dorm.

You were there for everything, cheering him on during games, you were the first person he would seek out when he won, you comforted him after a loss.

Your relationship lasted through high school and even university. It wasn’t long before you two ended up moving in together.

When Wakatoshi found his place with the Schweiden Adlers you were ecstatic. You had also just landed a great job and it felt like your two were simply cruising through life with ease.

Unfortunately your seemingly perfect life would never last forever.

Being in the v-league, volleyball seemed to fill his schedule more now than ever. Constant practice, games outside of the city even in other countries sometimes.

You hardly saw Ushijima anymore despite living with him. Even when you did, he was tired or just about to leave for practice.

It felt like you were pushed back into the sidelines. Watching hopelessly as he rose higher and higher, to places where you could not reach. It was no longer comfortable, you could no longer look in awe, but in despair as you watch him slip from the already loose grasp you had on him.

You couldn’t even remember the last time you went on a date. Every time you mentioned doing something in his free time he had brushed you off.

Which led you to now.

You woke up to an empty bed yet again. It was your day off so you weren’t rushing to get out of bed.

Yet you felt off.

The dryness in your mouth and throat is what you felt first. Then how runny your nose was. Finally, the cold sweat you were experiencing.

You were definitely sick.

You groaned to yourself and pulled the blanket to your chin. Hoping that you could possibly sleep it off.

Yet your efforts were in vain. After what felt like hours of trying to fall back asleep you realized that you were just going to feel even more miserable without anything to eat or at least drink.

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows and immediately regretted it. The world spun around you and your entire body shook. You collapsed back onto your pillow and panted at the exertion it took.

As you caught your breath you turned your head towards your bedside table, where your phone sat charging.

Weakly, you lifted your arm and with a bit of effort you were able to grab your phone. As it turned on you winced at how bright the screen was and with bleary eyes you managed to open your contacts.

The words seemed to blend together as you searched through your contacts, you nearly sobbed in relief as your eyes finally focused on the name of your best friend.

You clicked the call button and dropped you hand to beside your ear, preparing for the way your throat would undoubtedly hurt as you spoke.

After a couple rings you heard the person on the other side pick up and you quickly began speaking, desperate to get them to come quickly so that you could hopefully feel better.

“Hey, I’m sorry if you’re busy but do you think you can bring me some drinks and maybe food? i’m not feeling the best and I don’t know if I can get up at all.”

The person on the other end of the phone began talking but you could barely decipher it as your head spun and your body shivered despite how warm you were.

“-/n….y/n?”

You froze at the deep voice on the other side of the phone. You pulled away an looked at the screen, nearly breaking down at the sight of Wakatoshi’s name instead of your friends. Quickly you put it back against your ear

“Ah I’m sorry Toshi. I meant to call a friend you’re probably busy you don’t have to come back home.” you said quickly, actually sitting up as you rambled nervously, reprimanding yourself for interrupting his practice.

You had called and texted him during practice before. At one point he was fine with it, responding during breaks or calling you back once practice had finished. But lately you had been greeted with one worded responses, or you were just ignored.

One time you even tried to pry once he got home from practice, asking him about his odd lack of response. That day, he had turned to glare at you.

“I’m busy y/n. I don’t have time for things like that.”

“You’re sick?” your thoughts were interrupted by his voice again. He used a tone much gentler than the one he had used that day.

“A little bit, nothing to worry about I can just call-“ you cut yourself off with a harsh cough, unable to hold back the whimper as your throat throbbed in protest.

“I’m coming home.”

Whether from his words or the fever you couldn’t tell, but a chill ran down your spine

“N-no toshi you don’t have to I’ll be fine don’t leave practice just because of me”

“I’ll stop by the store for some ingredients don’t get out of bed.”

And with that the call ended. Slowly, you took the phone away from your ear and looked at it in shock. He was leaving practice early. Something you weren’t aware he was willing to ever do.

At least not recently.

Only when the shock settled, did you realize just how much your body was protesting you sitting up. So, despite your better judgment, you lied back down, waiting in nervous anticipation for him to come home.

What might have been half an hour felt like forever as you laid in bed. Shivering underneath the comforter despite sweating profusely, rubbing your nose raw from having to blow it constantly, all whilst it felt like you were spinning.

In your haze you didn’t even hear the front door or you bedroom door open. How could you when your body demanded all the attention you had?

Wakatoshi stood frozen in the doorway, a plastic bag hanging off his arm, silent as he took in the state you were in.

How hadn’t he noticed before he left? you couldn’t have possibly entered this state within the couple of hours he was gone.

He felt a tug of unease pull at his heart and willed himself to walk up to you.

“y/n,” he called softly. sitting on your side of the bed.

You flinched at the sound of his voice not knowing he was in the room. Slowly, you opened your eyes and winced at the light in the room.

“Toshi,” you croaked pathetically.

His face softened and he brushed your damp hair away from your face, frowning when he felt how warm your forehead was.

“Hey,” he greeted, he lifted a hand and that’s when you saw a thermometer from the medicine cabinet in his hand “can you open your mouth please?“

Weakly, you did as he asked, and as it sat in your mouth, he quickly walked towards the master bathroom. Mumbling something about a towel.

You didn’t hear him however as you turned your head back towards the ceiling and already felt your eyes drooping again.

You only came to when you felt something cool against your forehead, you opened your eyes to see Toshi looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows. The thermometer beeped and when he looked at the reading the crease deepened.

Toshi disappeared for a moment again, making his presence known when he began to take the comforter off of you.

You whined as he did so, shivering even harder as air hit your body. You even sat up to try and grab it back.

“‘s cold toshi,” you slurred.

He was quick to place a thinner sheet on top of you “I know dear, but we have to get your body temperature down.”

As you pulled the blanket closer Wakatoshi opened the bag he brought with him. You heard the rattle of a pill container and then the crack of a bottle being opened. Wakatoshi turned to you and held out some medicine and water.

You reached out a shaky hand to take the medicine, placing the pill in your mouth. Wakatoshi helped you hold the bottle, noting how weak your arms were.

You sighed in temporary relief when you finished drinking, glad that your mouth felt less dry.

Wakatoshi allowed a small relieved smile to cross his face and he quickly helped you lay back down.

“I’ll make you some food, stay here.”

Once he was sure you were comfortable he made his way to the kitchen quickly getting his ingredients ready.

It was only when he was midway through washing some rice when he took a moment to pause.

When was the last time he had cooked for you?

Wakatoshi continued his task albeit feeling guilty thinking about how you’ve been the one cooking and eating dinner alone for some time now. It used to be a shared responsibility. Now he usually came home late so you would put a plate aside for him or he would go out to eat with the team.

He was still deep in though as he pushed the bedroom door open with his back, a tray consisting of a bowl of rice porridge and a cup of tea left a trail small trail of steam as he walked.

You were asleep but woke easily at the sound of his footsteps. It took a moment for your eyes to focus on him.

He gestured with the tray, “Do you think you can eat?”

You looked at the food, perfectly plated and garnished, your mouth watering slightly at the savoury smell.

“I think so. At least a little bit.”

He helped you sit up, and when he saw the weakness still in your arms he fed you himself.

You hummed contently at the first bite of food. You had missed this more than you thought you did.

After about half the bowl was done and your tea finished, you signalled that you stomached as much as your body would allow. Now with your body temperature having gone down and your stomach full you could feel yourself becoming less and less loopy. You watched quietly as he put the tray on the bedside table. When he was finished with that, he sat still on the bed and stared at the wall.

You looked at his face, despite it deceptively lacking emotion, you knew better than anyone else that something was bothering him.

However before you could ask he began to speak

“Why wasn’t I the first person you contacted when you realized that you were sick?”

You froze, looking down in your lap fiddling wIth a loose thread in the blanket.

“…Well…you’ve been busy as of late….I didn’t think it was important enough to take you out of practice. Someone less busy would have probably been willing to come.”

He slowly turned to face you. “You didn’t think that your wellbeing was important enough?”

You shrugged, “Well volleyball is always going to be your biggest priority. I’m just sick it’ll pass.”

Obvious distress crossed Ushijima’s face “y/n, you are my main priority.”

You paused. Perhaps it was time to tell him how you were really feeling instead of dancing around the subject.

“…It hasn’t felt that way lately.” you say hesitantly, your voice small.

Wakatoshi faltered. You kept looking down, almost scared to look him in the eye.

“I was content with that at first, your love of volleyball is admirable, it’s was drew me to you at first. But it always made you seem unattainable. When you asked me on that date all those years ago I was over the moon,” you paused to clear your throat huffing in annoyance as your sickness interrupted you.

“But I can only endure so much Toshi. Nowadays it feels like your going where I can’t reach. You’re always busy, which is understandable for a professional athlete… I just wish it wasn’t to the point where I’m worried about your reaction if I were to try to talk to you.”

There was a shift in the mattress. Then familiar arms that you had been longing for wrapped tightly around you.

“Toshi you’re gonna get sick.”

“It’s fine,”

“but-“

“I’m sorry y/n.”

you stiffened but stayed quiet to let him speak.

“You’ve done so much for me without complaint and I have done so little in return. i’m sorry for letting it get to this point. It took you getting this sick for me to realize.”

A stormy look crossed his face, “I… I’ve been struggling to balance work and home, in return I’ve been neglecting you and letting how tired I am influence my reactions. you don’t deserve that. you are my first priority y/n, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

You sniffled and wiped a tear that fell from your face. You didn’t even know you were crying. For a man usually so quiet and stoic, he always knew what to say to you when he needed to. It was always so endearing to you.

“If I had known you were going to take it this well I would’ve said something earlier,” you say softly.

He smiles sadly, “I haven’t been making it seem that way hmm?”

You shake you’re head but smile back, “no”

He sighs to himself but places a gentle kiss against your forehead much like how he did all those years ago. Your eyes flutter shut and you make let out a pleased sigh. You were much more comfortable than you were when you first woke up.

“We’ll talk more once you get better. I promise,” He eventually says. holding you a bit closer to him.

You nodded and snuggled closer to his chest. While it wasn’t an immediate fix, it was a start.

“Sounds good to me Toshi.”

He smiled down at you “Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

I checked your rules, and so this seeems like I’d be okay: I was wondering if I could request Matt Murdock x reader dating hcs, but where it’s a crossover where he’s dating hades child reader? If you’re not into crossovers, then may I simply request dating hcs with Matt where reader has two protective younger siblings?

This came across as ‘Matt finds out you’re a child of hades hdc’ more than anything.

He knew you were a little different, you smelt like death and he could sense how the air would seemed to get cold whenever you were nearby, how he could feel immense power brimming breath your skin that was desperately trying to claw its way out.

He could feel the trials of survival by the callouses on your hands whenever he reached out to grasp your hand, relishing in the cold sting that came with you before intertwining your fingers together.

Matt knew you weren’t exactly human, but neither fully whatever else made up the other half of your dna, but he didn’t need sight to see that whatever it was it was extraordinarily powerful and ancient.

A mutant? Didn’t seem to fit what you were and neither did superhuman or inhuman, however Matt knew it wasn’t his duty to pry such things, especially if it was something that was tethered to less then happy memories for you for that wasn’t Matt’s intention. Yet he knew that you lied whenever he asked by how your heart increases and your breathing came out uneven and almost panicked, hearing your feet shifting your weight on the floor and you fidgeting with the sleeves of your shirt out of habit.

For now Matt pretends that he knows no better and leaves it for your sake as it was obvious that it was a topic you’d rather not discuss, if ever, and who was Matt to discard your wishes?

‘You can tell me anything you know,’ he says as he reaches a hand to put on your knee for comfort, ‘you don’t need to hide anything from me and I don’t want you to feel as though you have to hide anything from me, I’m here for you and that’s never going to change even if you’ve told me that you’ve got a third arm.’ You chuckled and it made Matt only smile in response as he felt you begin to calm down.

Besides Matt had a lot of patience and was willing to wait until you were more then comfortable to let him into that side of you that you were clearly hostile and less then proud towards. It was all a matter of time.

So when the time did come, it was when you shadow traveled Matt back home when it was clear he wouldn’t make it more then a couple of steps without collapsing from his wounds, it was a small example of your power but all Matt felt in that moment was cold, frigid, cold enough to freeze his entire body into a solid block of ice.

It felt like he was dying but not at the same time, as though he was in a state of limbo before the familiar sensations and smells hit him as to tell him that he had come home, despite the fact he was more then a good few feet away just moments before.

All matt knew was that whatever had happened wasn’t exactly the greatest of experiences for him as he couldn’t feel nor sense nothing, no sound no breathing, absolutely nothing, not even your own and that enough was freighting for him.

‘What was that?’ He’d ask.

‘Shadow travel.’ You told him as you began patching up his wounds.

‘Why did it feel so…’

‘Devoid of everything? Like you were dying and you couldn’t go anywhere but wherever the shadows took you? You’ll get use to it.’ You replied with a casualness that only made matt more curious by the second, hating not understanding what he felt when you did your thing.

‘What are you?’ He finally asks the question that has been on his mind since first meeting you, having sensed an eerie and almost cryptic aspect to you that only left him more curious in getting to know you better.

‘A demi-god.’ You told him as though he’d know what one is.

Matt laughs. ‘Like as in Greek mythology? Those types of Demi-gods? A child of the gods?’

‘Yes, not like I expect you to understand.’ - you.

‘Who?’ - Matt

‘Hades.’ You finally said. ‘I’m a child of hades, and being who I am it’s kinda of a taboo topic even for the gods as I’m not exactly meant to exist, yet here I am paying the price for existing.’ You muttered, finishing up patting Matt as you ran a hand through his dark hair, smiling slightly when you saw him lean into your touch with full faith and trust.

‘So is your father to blame for you being so cold?’ Matt jokes and suddenly you didn’t feel as though your burden of being a child of a Greek god wasn’t so bad, especially not if your vigilante boyfriend was always going to make it light with his half hearted jabs of your abnormal body temperature.

‘Yes I guess you could say that, but under certain circumstances you don’t mind it as much as you claim you do.’ You replied teasingly as you lightly tugged at his hair, making him groan.

‘While that maybe true, you must know that Demi-god or not nothing I feel towards you will ever change, you’re still the person I fell for and dated for the past couple of months.’ Matt reassures you with a smile as he brought your hand from his hair to his mouth, kissing the back of it before holding it tightly to his chest, allowing you to feel his heart beating beneath warm skin. ‘And if you’re condemned for merely existing then I’m condemned for loving you, but I wouldn’t change it for anything, for you are my everything and for my everything I’d do anything.’ He adds softly as he squeezed your hand.

You smiled softly as you rest your forehead against him. ‘You’re more trouble than your worth Murdock.’ You murmured before pecking his nose, making him smile a little. ‘But I’ve always loved a little bit of trouble, especially if it comes in the form of a charming lawyer by day, vigilante by night who goes by the name Matt Murdock.’ You then peck his lips as you enjoyed how his warmth seeped through you, blanketing you in a welcoming hug in comparison to the cold embrace you’ve received only from the shadows.

‘He sure sounds like a charmer.’ Matt says teasing. ‘Bet you love him quite a lot.’

‘He is, but he can also be a pain in my ass with how often he comes home hurt.’ You played along as you looked over his bandaged wounds and the old ones that have long signed healed. ‘However I do unfortunately love him too much to leave him bleed out on the side walk when he could do that on our lovely carpet.’ You finished sarcastically.

Matt chuckled, wincing when he felt one of his wounds spiking in pain. ‘We’ll get it changed.’ He promised.

‘This is the fifth carpet we’ve had.’ You retorted.

‘Isn’t your father the god of wealth?’ Matt raises his brows.

‘Funny you think my father is that giving.’ You huffed, remembering the last conversation you had with your beloved godly father.

Matt shrugs. ‘Worth a shot.’

[merakiui]

🐙 Azul's tentacle anon

Oughhh i read ur fem riddle fic and OUGHGHGH ITS SO DELICIOUS now i have some brainrots about party animal floyd shhssh

Party Animal Floyd who starts developing his obsession the moment your romantic love for him starts fading away. You're already becoming distant from him, and once he noticed this, his entire personality starts doing a 360 spin.

Jade's so gentle and caring always holding you close to his chest whilst the old Floyd just leaves you around for anybody to take, not giving a single damn to the point you start wondering if you had dated the wrong twin, Floyd will fix that. He stops his partying antics and had the entire apartment go from a messy waste-filled ruin to a sparkling white mansion devoid of any stains. He's doing all the chores for you, he starts cooking breakfast early and he starts joining you in the morning shower, trying his hardest to replicate his brother's gentlemanly mannerisms.

Riddle's so serious about relationships and expressed to be loyal forever to her partner, unlike the old Floyd who sticks his dick into one girl to another, leaving you to rot in his room tears streaming down your cheeks and tuining your beautiful mascara. He will fix that, no matter what. He gets a job at a close friend's now successful cafe, ditches all of his side chicks and ghosts his delinquent pimp friends, where the only pussy he would stick his dick inside from now on is yours.

If you leave him, he'd just end up spiralling into a deep dark place, depraved of your sweet loving attention

OMG YES AAAAAAAA,,,,, your thoughts are so good!!!! Floyd absolutely puts in the work once he's made up his mind to be a better boyfriend. It's like he's an entirely new person. Suddenly, you're no longer transparent in his eyes. Suddenly, you're all he wants to see. Now you're his entire world. <3 sure, he may have borrowed some of Jade's rizz techniques in doing so, but he's quite the upstanding eel now (still just as crass, though. He will forever be foul-mouthed and unruly and untamed; that's just how he is hehe).

What if the café job Floyd picks up is at the same place Riddle works? :0 maybe it's a branch of Mostro Lounge or something else entirely and the only reason he's able to get in with his spotty resume is because Azul owns the place and he can pull all kinds of strings. Floyd's genuinely determined to turn things around, so Azul does him a favor (which he will pay back in due time, of course) and now Floyd's donning an apron to work in the kitchen as sous-chef. Riddle nearly walks back out the door the day she sees him standing behind the counter. T_T she's certain the world is against her. What sin must she atone for? Is this how hell punishes its sinners now, by sending stupid, annoying, ugly eels to her workplace and conveniently disguising them as coworkers? If it isn't obvious, she is Floyd's biggest hater LOL.

I like to think that Floyd, though he pesters Riddle and annoys the life out of her, would vaguely and briefly confide in her and ask what sorts of things girls like. Riddle puts two and two together and figures out rather fast that he's trying to make it up to you. Obviously she can't let that happen. She just started wedging herself between you and Floyd, making you question your feelings for him, and now he's trying to be better? He had four years to do that! She's so annoyed. >:(

Now you have an obsessed boyfriend and an obsessed friend who wants to take the place of boyfriend vying for your attention. Meanwhile, you're mourning to your bestie Jade about Floyd and his disloyal behavior like, "Why is he so sex-brained? Why doesn't he just like me for me? What's so good about parties and sex with strangers anyway?" and Jade is a persistence predator, so of course he's taking full advantage of your emotional vulnerability and weaknesses to slip in between the cracks in your heart, slowly but surely getting even closer to you. :)

[sagiewinchester]

scars that never healed. - s.r. - chapter 15

a/n - hi the last week as been such an emotional rollercoaster and I kind of hate this chapter but I hope you like it.

Warnings - mentions of depression/being depressed, mentions of kinda non con but not really its weird, aftermath of last chapter, very “pushing it down and praying”, kinda argument, spencer realizes he fucked up, not really edited at all. Please let me know if I missed anything.

Spencer saw it too, he wasn’t an idiot. Profiling human behavior was his job for God's sake. He knew he saw something but he didn't know the root cause of that something.

Why could he feel her shiver every time he touched her? Not in a good way, in the skin crawling sort of way. Why did it feel like she wasn’t going out of her way to talk to him like they usually do? Spencer noticed of the course of this past week that she only talks to him when she literally has to, especially at work. They practically live together and she barely talks to him.

Why was she being so cold?

It’s not like he doesn't have any idea. Spencer knows he asks for a lot quite often but that’s their normal, right?

He also noticed other things about her. After work, she would go straight to her bedroom, and wouldn't come out to eat or drink or anything. When he would come in, she would already be asleep and in the same clothes she wore throughout the day.

Today was a Friday but Spencer already knew that there wasn’t going to be any laughing on the couch over a glass of wine. Today would go just like the weather outside, cold and rainy and gray.

He followed behind her as she opened the door. Before he could take his coat off and turn around again, she had already disappeared into the confines of her bedroom.

He sighed to himself. Rationally, he knows he shouldn’t be angry. They weren’t dating. They weren’t living together. None of that mattered.

Before he knew it, he was standing outside of her bedroom door. Deja vu from the other way around.

Without thinking twice, or really even at all, he knocked on the door. It was a soft sound, it was honest barely even there.

“Yeah?” Lily spoke from the other side of the door. Her voice sounded so ruff, Spencer was convinced she hadn't spoken in days. And she hasn’t, to him at least.

“Can I come in?” He asked softly. And after some shuffling she responded with a small “yes” and after a quick deep breath he bit the bullet and pushed the door open.

It was as if he was looking over her with fresh eyes. Her hair was all messy and tousled like she hadn’t washed it in a few days. Her cheeks were lined with mascara watered down by tears.Her eyes were all red and puffy. What did he do to her?

Without thinking she rushed over to the edge of the bed and sat there.

“What?” She asked. It wasn’t as defensive as Spencer expected it to be. It was worse, empty and devoid of any emotion.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his finger tracing the outline of her calf from the outside of the covers.

He felt her muscles stiffen from beneath and something stirred in his stomach.

“Please talk to me, Lils.” He says, his voice almost pleading, like a prayer.

“What are we?” She blurted out, her voice still rough. God, all of this was so confusing for the both of them. Spencer knew that this could go one of two ways, a good way and a bad way. He has to choose his words very carefully.

“I don’t know.” He blurted out an answer before he could think. For someone with such a high IQ, it’s so odd how his brain shut off when he’s around her.

“What do you want us to be?” He asked as the tips of his fingers finally stopped tracing her leg.

“I don’t want to feel used, Spencer.”

Used. The works rang in his head. What does she mean she felt used? He repeated the word in his head until it lost all meaning.

“You feel used?” He asked the obvious, still avoiding her gaze.

“Remember a few nights ago?” She asked, her voice still barely above a whisper. He knows what she’s talking about but he didn’t think it was that bad.

“What about it?” He asked. Lily sighed. Why is he so clueless?

“I felt like you were just using me to get off. When you were done you just rolled off of me and got in the shower. I didn’t come..fuck that, I didn’t even want to do it.” She spat out. She can’t exactly say she wasn’t angry but she was more hurt than anything.

All while Spencer just stared at her dumb founded. He immediately pulled her up into a hug, and for the first time in a few days, she didn’t pull away or feel wrong leaning into it. It didn’t feel preformative anymore.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what I was thinking. I’m so stupid.” He rambled as he stroked her hair and of course, Lily leaned into it. Letting herself be comforted.

They stayed like that for a really long time, into the early morning hours. Until they were both half awake and tangled with each other.

Lily was laying on Spencer’s chest, listening to his heartbeat and he’s playing with her hair and they’re both silently watching reruns of old cartoons.

“You’re forgiven.” Lily said, nuzzling ethier into his chest.

“Thank you. I promise I’ll never do anything like that ever again. There’s no excuse for it.” He promises, playing with her hair and pulling her closer.

“I love you.” She mumbles as she closes her eyes. Spencer felt his heart leapt out of his chest. He looks down at her. Watched as she breathedin and out and the constant rise and fall of her chest.

“I love you, too.” He whispered and watched as her lips twisted up in the sweetest smile he had ever seen. He kissed her forehead and after that she faded off to sleep.

Once he knew she was asleep, he gave her one last smile and fades off to sleep himself.

[dilfspitdrinker]

Let The Light In | Joel Miller x f!reader

Description: You’ve been babysitting Joel Miller’s daughter all summer. No matter now much you try to deny it, you know you’re into him. But it’s just a little crush that you thought could never be reciprocated, until one fateful phone call. The shift between you two is irresistible, and you’re in for more than you ever anticipated. A/N: holy shit guys, sorry for the fucking hiatus?? Hopefully the smut in this chapter will make up for it. ITS HAPPENING! EVERYBODY STAY CALM! STAY FUCKING CALM! no guys seriously relax I'm already nervous don't make it a big deal shut up stop laughing. I've been mad busy with lyfe and college lately and had a hard time with this chapter, constantly having to remind myself that I do this FOR FUN and it literally does not matter if it's bad!!! BUT IM LOSING THE IDGAF WAR!!!! anyways enjoy and ily for reading

Warnings/tags: MDNI, oral + fingering (f receiving) (he give me brain like nyu), Joel is a talker, reader likes chocolate, age gap (reader is like 21 and Joel is in late 30s), (no his age doesn't canonically line up with what it should be since Sarah is like 12 here but idgaf)

Masterlist

Chapter 7

Once you woke, it took only a moment for you to recognize Joel’s bed, and your thoughts immediately began racing. You hadn’t slept together, had you? There was no way you’d had enough drinks to have forgotten if that happened, right? A quick flip of the covers revealed you were still in your dress. Guessing that meant no. He wasn’t in bed with you, didn’t look like he’d even been there, the covers on the other side looked quite undisturbed. Confused, you supposed he might’ve woken up before you and made just that side of the bed. Weird, but what other explanation was there?

You quietly followed the same routine as the last time you woke up in Joel’s bed, rushing to the bathroom to check yourself. Even after fixing your hair and dress that had gone askew, the thought of going out there in your little outfit from last night made you cringe. You thought briefly about going back to his room and stealing some of his clothes, just to avoid walking into the kitchen looking like you’d passed out after clubbing or something. After how great your date went, you prayed you hadn’t ruined it by saying or doing anything mortifyingly embarrassing, since you apparently didn’t even remember getting into bed.

You steeled yourself and padded down the hall. Peering around the corner into the kitchen, your voice came out small, “Joel?”

He was sitting at the table, dressed casually, a mug of steaming coffee in hand. A smile spread over his face at the sight of you, “Mornin’ darlin’. You sleep alright?”

“Yeah,” you gingerly sat across from him.

He could see the question in your eyes, and answered it to save you the embarrassment, “I slept on the couch.”

With that revelation, you quickly switched gears. Your tone was devoid of humor, “Are you kidding me?”

He gave you a quizzical look.

“You let me sleep in your bed while you slept on the couch again?”

He laughed you off, but you wouldn’t let him get away with it.

“I’m serious,” you crossed your arms, “Doesn’t matter if I’m here, it’s your own house, you’re sleeping in your own bed.”

“Yes ma’am,” he grinned, taking another sip from his mug.

You glared at him, but the hardness in your face dissolved as soon as he set a cup of freshly brewed coffee in front of you. Despite your outrage at the sleeping situation, Joel’s presence still managed to put you at ease. You’d even forgotten about why the dress thing made you nervous, he was probably enjoying the view.

“What time is it?” you asked between sips. You hadn’t registered the hour on the clock when you’d woken up in your alarmed state.

“Early,” he responded.

You hummed, soothing your mild grogginess with the coffee. You wished you’d slept in just a little more. You wished you’d slept in with Joel. Not ready to back down just yet, you asked sharply, “And how did you sleep?”

He was amused by your stubbornness, “You’re not lettin’ that go, are you?”

“Never.” 

He sighed, “Just didn’t wanna get all up in your business, darlin’.”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh please, you can get all up in my business anytime you want.”

He chuckled, “I’ll keep that in mind from now on.”

You two sat together, finishing off your coffees. Sunlight poured in through the windows, and you silently watched specks of dust float around him like a halo. His eyes still looked heavy with sleep, blinking slowly. More often than not, he would come home fighting exhaustion as he thanked you for watching Sarah. There were a few instances where he paid you a day late, accompanied with a text apologizing profusely for forgetting. You’d always assured him that it was fine, imagining how he must’ve passed out the second his head hit the pillow. In the quiet morning light, you wanted to pull him into bed, cradle his face, soothe the lines etched into his skin. You thought you’d do anything to relieve his stress.

He stood to collect your empty mugs, his broad frame towering over you.

Yes, anything.

You became newly aware of your dress, tugging the hem down a bit. While his back was to you, you cleared your throat, “Sorry for crashing here again.”

“How long ‘fore you learn…” he sighed to himself. He turned and crossed his arms, unexpectedly stern, “Will you quit talkin’ like you’re an inconvenience?”

The hand that fiddled with your dress stilled. You began fumbling through a sort of confession, “Sorry, I just, I don’t want you to think I’m… I don’t know…” You trailed off, unsure of exactly what image you were trying to avoid. Messy? Unpredictable? Opportunistic?

Brows turning up, he spoke, “Sweetheart, whatever it is, you gotta know that I only think good things of you.” He stepped forward and closed the space between you, capturing your face in his hands. He leaned down and kissed you sweetly.

As soon as your lips parted, the words spilled out. “This is gonna sound dumb,” you started, to which he immediately shook his head. You continued, wondering how much dumber you sounded with each word, “I just, I don’t want to do things that’ll make me seem– that’ll make you, like, not take me seriously. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

He pulled out a chair and sat facing you. “Why wouldn’t I take you seriously?”

So he was going to make you say it? You figured you’d have this conversation eventually if this thing was going to continue, but you didn’t expect to find yourself having it here and now. You felt unsteady, despite being seated. Inhaling, you willed your voice to come out stronger than you felt, “Because… I’m younger than you.”

The air stilled as Joel stared at you for a moment, thinking of the most careful way to say he didn’t give a damn about how it looked from the outside. Truly, he was old and gruff and undeserving of you. Indeed, you were young and pretty and lively and smart and giving and everything he fucking needed. He rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward, “Right. Let’s clear up a few things. First and foremost, I care about your feelings and your wellbeing. If the uh, the age difference is makin’ you uncomfortable or unsure, we don’t have to do this.”

You pursed your lips together, palms feeling clammy. “I know it’s… unconventional, or at least most people would think it is, but I’m okay with it if you are.”

“I’m the same way darlin’. Don’t want you thinkin’ I have a- a thing for young ladies, it ain’t like that. It’s just,” he looked into your eyes, “you.”

You cracked a smile, “Yeah, I’ve never gone after an older man before.”

“I’d hope not. Even most of these grown men ain’t good enough for you.”

You quirked an eyebrow, “And what’s good enough for me?”

“I could be, if you decide to keep me around,” he winked. “But hey, I mean it. If you start feelin’ like this isn’t the right thing for you, tell me. Please.”

You nodded, even though the notion sounded impossible. You wanted Joel with a ferocity unlike anything you’d felt before. Now that you’d had a taste of him, you needed more, even if blindly going after him made you look like a dog chasing a squirrel. For the first time, you wondered what your friends would think of it. Or your parents- would they wonder in bewilderment what had possessed you to seek out a single father? But they didn’t know Joel, you were sure that anyone who stepped into your shoes could understand why this man had you obsessed. Despite your insecurities, you were confident that he would be attentive to your needs. You looked into his eyes intently, “I trust you, Joel.”

He took it as a warning. “I know you do. And I don’t take that lightly.” He shifted in his seat, ruminating on whether you knew what you were getting yourself into. He didn’t want to deny your autonomy, but god, he didn’t want to be the reason you felt trapped down the line. And most of all, if it turned into a burning mess, he didn’t want to get Sarah tangled in it. But the way you were looking at him, those eyes were his weakness. How the hell was he supposed to deny himself of you when you were giving him that goddamn look, eyes revealing that you were so eager to please, dying to be something real to him.

“You check me if I’m outta line,” he poked your nose. The way you scrunched it had him falling faster than he thought possible.

“Oh, that’s my new favorite excuse.” Your voice turned parodic, “Joel, you can’t make me do the dishes, that’s taking advantage of me.”

“God, you’re gonna kill me, girl.” His warm laughter filled the kitchen, filled your heart. He stood, pulled you to your feet and into an embrace. You buried your nose into his neck. His lips pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

You sighed and mumbled into his skin, “I should probably get going, huh?”

He tutted in disapproval, “Go take a shower. Help yourself to my clothes.”

You pretended to contemplate, then said, “If you insist.”

In the shower, you reflected on last night, and finally recalled falling asleep on top of Joel. He’d probably carried you to bed. You cursed yourself for not being awake to remember the feeling. He’d probably lifted you into his arms like you were made of feathers. You focused on washing your hair to avoid getting too worked up, reaching for Joel’s shampoo yet again. Logically, you understood how one thing lead to another since the last time you did this, but emotionally, you could hardly comprehend how one phone call generated this sequence of events between you two.

The striking sense of deja vu followed your path back into his room. You rooted around his dresser, picking out a T-shirt and sweatpants. Pulling them on, you giggled to yourself, remembering your date banter about him wanting to see you in his T-shirt. You’d obviously meant it in a much less innocent way, but you supposed this counted too. While you were at it, you couldn’t resist the urge to snoop a bit. It seemed like he kept his room tidy, save for a few pairs of socks discarded on the floor. You slid open the nightstand drawer, not expecting much, but found some neatly folded clothes that didn’t look like his. In fact, they looked a whole lot like yours. Pulling them out, you confirmed, they were the clothes you had on the night Joel picked you up. You’d ultimately forgotten to retrieve them. You put them back as they were, deciding that your wardrobe didn’t miss these particular garments that much. But more so, you liked knowing that Joel kept a piece of you here, in his space, close to him.

Upon your return to the kitchen, he smirked at the sight of you, his shirt hanging loosely off your frame. You knew he’d like it. He leaned against the counter, nursing a second cup of coffee, “What you feelin’ like for breakfast, beautiful?”

You shrugged, “Anything.”

“You gotta gimme a real answer, darlin’.”

“Let’s do your favorite, I’ll help you make it.”

“Bacon and eggs it is, then.”

He was about to tell you where the pans and utensils were, but he watched you move around his kitchen with efficiency, already knowing which cabinets to reach for. He loved seeing you be so in your element in his house, like you lived here.

The moment felt insulated from the world. You, swaying slightly as you tended the stove. His hand on the small of your back as he moved behind you.

At some point, Joel snuck in some toast and fruit that you didn’t notice until you sat to serve yourself.

“When did we end up with such a spread?” you asked, baffled.

“When you weren’t lookin’,” he answered with a cheeky grin.

*. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. *

You sat on the couch, struggling to stay focused on an assignment. The minutes crawled by, the afternoon sun casting sidelong shadows of everything in your apartment.

Your eyes lit up when the phone rang, a welcome distraction, and all the more welcome to see it was Joel calling.

You quickly picked up, “Hi!”

“Hey darlin’, whatcha up to?”

“Just finishing up some homework. What about you?”

“Sittin’ here in my empty house.”

“Sarah’s not back yet?” you asked, surprised.

“She was back for a couple hours, then left again to a friend’s house. She’s really been into sleepovers lately.”

“That’s cool,” you tried to sound nonchalant. “So, what, you want me to keep you company?”

He heard your smile through the phone. “You got me there. You can, uh, bring over your work if you’re busy, I don’t mind.”

Your heart tightened knowing that he didn’t mind if your attention wasn’t on him, he enjoyed your presence all the same. You liked the thought of doing your assignments at his place, but you knew you definitely wouldn’t have any hope of concentrating. “I’m almost done with this, let me finish and I’ll be all yours.”

He liked the sound of that a little too much. “Alright darlin’. See you soon?”

“Within the hour.”

“I’m countin’ down the minutes.”

You rushed through the rest of your assignment, crossing your fingers that your professor would get bored halfway through and skim over the drop in quality. You practically threw yourself into your car, only realizing that you hadn’t changed out of Joel’s clothes once you were too far from your street to care. Whatever, as if he would mind.

You arrived at his house, opening the unlocked door with a clammy hand. Here once again, with Sarah gone, just the two of you. After your conversation this morning, you weren’t quite sure where you two were going from here, and you were anxious to find out. You stepped into the living room, not finding him there.

“Hi Joel,” you called out.

You jumped a bit when a pair of large and strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you backward into him. His chest was so warm against your back, easing the tension in your spine.

He leaned down and kissed your temple, “Missed you honey.”

“Missed me? I was only gone for a couple hours.”

“Too many,” he mumbled into your neck, planting a kiss there.

Your heart fluttered. You hadn’t expected Joel to be such a lover, already treating you like his one and only.

“Have you eaten, baby?”

“Not since our breakfast.”

“You hungry?”

“I could go for a snack.”

“Then we’ll get you a snack,” he led you by the hand to the kitchen.

You sat yourself on the countertop while he grabbed something from the highest shelf. His shirt rode up a bit, and you got a delicious view of his skin. 

“I hide these up here so Sarah doesn’t get to ‘em,” he pulled out a box of chocolates.

“Ah, secret stash. Should’ve kept it hidden from me too.”

“You’re allowed to know,” he winked.

You reached to grab some, but he intercepted your hand. He held one in front of your face, and after a moment of staring blankly, it clicked, and you promptly opened your mouth.

He smirked, and barely whispered, “Good girl,” but you heard it loud and clear. He popped the chocolate into your mouth. It was dark, you thought you recalled him saying he didn’t like things that were too sweet. You hummed in enjoyment.

You noticed a smudge of melted chocolate residue on the pads of his index and thumb. A devilish idea occurred to you, and you held back a smirk so as to not reveal your plot. Feigning innocence, you took his palm and pulled it to your mouth, closing your lips around his finger.

He froze, eyes locked on your face.

You swirled your tongue around his finger, licking off the chocolate and savoring the taste of his skin under the sweetness.

He slowly pulled his finger from your mouth to replace it with his thumb. His index, still wet with your saliva, curled under your chin, tilting your head up while bringing his thumb up to your lips. Looking at him through your lashes, you sucked off the chocolate, teeth gently grazing the ridges of his fingerprint. He almost wanted to laugh in disbelief, laugh at himself for not giving you enough credit. You devious little thing, you knew exactly what you were doing.

“What game are you playing, hmm?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you narrowed your eyes at him, as if offended by the question.

“I know you want somethin’. What are you tryin’ to get out of me?” He came to stand between your legs, hands planted on the counter at either side of you, caging you in.

“Nothing. Seems like you want somethin’.” Your hands laced together at the back of his neck, drawing him in closer.

His eyes raked down your figure, pupils wide and dark. For the first time, you identified lust in his gaze. You wondered how many times you hadn’t noticed it.

Your lips met in an ardent kiss, and your tongues quickly found each other. His hands roamed your hips and waist, fingers pressing into your soft flesh. You felt the warmth of his skin slide under your shirt, but just barely.

You had him figured out enough. For all his flirting – and much as you wished he’d do as he pleased with you – Joel was too cautious, you’d have to draw it out of him. You nudged his hands to go further up, and with the encouragement, his large palms smoothed over your back– strategically braless.

A groan vibrated in his throat, and he detached his lips from yours just far enough to mumble, “That what you want?”

You looked deep into his eyes, testing the connection, seeing if he could read you.

He could. Like a fucking book. And from that gleam in your pupils, he knew exactly what you needed. He asked in a teasingly coy tone, “Want me to make you feel good?”

You bit your lip and nodded, buzzing with anticipation.

Immediately, he picked you up off the counter, palms spread over your ass and squeezing. Your arms clung to his neck as he carried you to his room.

He laid you on the bed, holding himself over you. His lips trailed from your face, down to your neck, nipping at your collarbone. Once he heard you taking deeper breaths, he leaned away to stand. You propped yourself on your elbows, watching him with curiosity mixed with disappointment. You voiced your dissatisfaction, “Why are you so far?”

Standing above you, he raised a brow. He grabbed your legs from the back of your knees and yanked you to the edge of the bed. You released a small yelp at the suddenness, but it only added to the desire swirling in your stomach.

“Better?” He splayed a large hand on your chest, pushing you back onto the mattress. He kissed a path from your mouth to your ear, and whispered huskily, “Or you want me closer?”

Your hands twisted in his shirt, wanting to pull him against you, but he was moving away again… only to kneel between your legs. He rested his cheek against your thigh, giving you a sultry look.

He toyed with the waistband of the sweatpants. “You look real good in my clothes, baby. Planning on stealin’ these too?”

“I didn’t steal them, just… haven’t given them back.” You could hardly string the sentence together with his knuckles running along your hips.

“Sure. Might as well take them back now,” he started tugging down the sweatpants, “y’know, ‘fore you forget.”

Past your knees, off your ankles, discarded on the floor. His lip curled at the sight of your little blue panties.

His hands slid under your shirt, pushing it up and finding your heated skin. Your heart raced and you clutched the fabric, “I think I wanna keep this on.”

His eyes flickered to yours, “Whatever makes you most comfortable baby. Can I still touch under there?”

“Please,” you nodded. It wasn’t that you felt particularly shy, the truth was, it turned you on more to have Joel doing this while wearing his shirt. It made you feel claimed.

You felt his breath against your thighs as he spoke, “I’ll go real slow baby, you let me know how I’m doin’.”

You nodded, heart racing with anticipation.

“Need you to use your words, baby.”

You swallowed thickly, then found your voice, “I’m ready.”

He looked down at the dark wetness staining your panties. His eyes flicked back up to yours with a smirk, “I can tell.”

He hooked his fingers into the waistband, and slowly, so damn slowly, pulled them down, revealing you to him. You felt his breath against your pulsing heat, “You’re gorgeous baby.”

His hands slid up your thighs, pushing them apart. With each thumb, he spread your pussy lips open. He groaned at the sight, “So pretty baby…”

Gingerly, you threaded your fingers through his hair. He looked up at you expectantly, a small smile on his face that you found reassuring. “Let me take care of you, sweetie.”

You gave him a small nod, and he dipped his head. He licked a thick stripe through your folds, eliciting a whimper from you. It reached a higher pitch when he attached his lips to your clit. Responding to your noises, he devoted his attention to your clit, licking and sucking at a pace that soon had you whining. One of his hands snaked up your torso, under the shirt, until it reached the softness of your breast. His thumb circled your nipple, adding to the warmth pooling in your loins.

He lifted his head briefly to check in, “How you feelin’ honey?”

“Good, keep going,” you rushed out, tugging at his hair.

He chuckled, “Yes ma’am.”

He replaced his tongue with his fingers, sliding two of them up and down through your wetness, circling your clit and teasing your hole.

“Joel, please,” you moaned.

“Please what?”

You whined in response.

“Gotta use your words, baby.”

You tilted your head back onto the pillow, faced with the ceiling. “I need your fingers,” you choked out, cheeks heating at the words.

He hummed, index and middle still giving attention to your clit. “Look at me,” he commanded.

You looked down at him between your thighs, and once your eyes locked, he began pushing in one thick digit. You moaned, eyelids threatening to close, but he captured your gaze again with a low voice, “Keep looking at me darlin', that’s it… good girl.”

Once his finger was up to the knuckle inside you, he started pumping in and out at a measured pace. When he reattached his lips to your clit, your head fell back and a long moan escaped your throat. His tongue swirled ceaselessly around the bud, making your hips squirm.

Slowly, he pulled his finger almost completely out of you, and you felt a second prodding for entry. They pushed in slowly, allowing you to relish the stretch.

“Joel,” you whimpered in a way that had him grinding against nothing. He pumped his fingers at a faster pace, needing to hear his name pass your lips again.

He curled his fingers up, and you clenched around him with a high pitched moan.

“That’s the spot, huh?” He looked up at you mischievously, “Yeah, I know.”

His other hand continued playing with your nipple. With your own hand, you pulled the shirt higher, exposing your plush tits. He suddenly pushed himself up, eagerly attaching his mouth to the swell of your breast. He pressed wet kisses down one side, nipping and sucking just hard enough to leave a few purple marks. His fingers never stopped massaging that perfect spot inside you, rapidly pushing you toward the edge.

“Joel- fuck- ” you panted, “I’m so close.”

He brought himself back down to your pussy, taking in the sight of you dripping around his fingers. He flattened his tongue against your clit, and the sensation made you jerk your hips up.

“That’s right baby, get yourself there,” he rasped.

You gripped his hair, grinding on his tongue. His fingers stroked your g-spot further with every movement. He had you right where he wanted you, thoughts reduced to nothing but his name.

“Joel,” you moaned brokenly, eyes rolling back. Your orgasm rippled through you, had you arching your back and curling your toes.

“So sweet,” you felt him mumble, his lips never breaking contact with your pussy. Like a man starved, he licked you clean, lapping at your juices. You whined every time his tongue brushed over your sensitive clit, hardly allowing you to come down from your high. You tugged at his hair, and he reluctantly lifted his head from between your thighs.

He kissed a trail up your torso, chest, neck, and finally reaching your lips. He kissed you softly, slowly, tenderly. But even through your hazy mind, you dared not think lovingly.

“What about you?” you panted.

He smoothed your shirt down and moved you onto your side, pulling you into his chest. “Don’t worry about me sweetheart.”

“But I wanna return the favor,” you mumbled into his chest.

“You’ll get to another time, I just wanna focus on you.”

You relented without much of a fight, still dazed and sleepy from your high. The steady rhythm of his breathing soothed you.

“I’m gonna fix us some dinner, how about that?”

You made a small noise of disapproval, curling further into his chest. He chuckled quietly, rubbing your back.

Masterlist

[tf2occontest]

Dmtryo / The Chemist VS Rico Black

(Full matchup list here)

Alright team, here's a recap: This is a contest to determine who amongst you will take the top of the leaderboards and be hired at TFI! Simply put, whoever gets the most votes gets to move on, and whoever doesn't... Well. They'll be put down swiftly and cleanly. :}

So, mann your stations, because here are your next contestants! Vote for your favorite mercenary who you want to win the TF2 OC Contest! - P

OC INFO UNDER THE CUT!

We highly encourage you to take a peek to make your decision!

Dmtryo / The Chemist

@loverboy-cc

Image credit: @/loverboy-cc

Is a sadistic streak still a streak if its most of his personality? Chemist would say so, with a collection of uncomfortably brightly coloured flasks and a strong throwing arm you're soon to be the subject of his latest concoction! Ranging from small explosives to brief periods of invisibility and one vial of literal random effects, roll a D100 and hope you don't die.

Rico Black

@blackblackheart

Image credit: @/mickmundane

Project BLAK Dossier: Rico Andrew Black

Somewhere in a dented file cabinet in an exploded base in the middle of the desert, a file that will never be found again.

(TW: Disturbing content)

—————————————————-

Name: Rico Andrew Black (Note- not true surname. True surname unknown.)

Designation: Sniper

Age At Time of Acquirement: 9

Current Age: 35

Height: 6'1’’

Weight: 125 lbs. (Note- attempts to get Rico to eat properly have met in failure. Have induced him to eat via command, does not help. Metabolism is normal. Possible bulimia/anorexia? May also be form of rebellion.)

Sexuality: Unknown (Note- Rico has not been witnessed engaging with other members of his team or other people in general in a flirtatious manner- lack of data.)

Respawn Chip?: Yes

Theater?: Yes

Aware?: No Yes- control revealed after rogue behavior, as punishment

Personality: Rico is a ‘wild child’. Mischievous and high-energy. Despite this, he has taken to his training well, and is proud-to-arrogant of his achievements and growing skill. UPDATE: Rico has grown hot-headed and rebellious. Seems to greatly enjoy sowing chaos and discord- believes himself untouchable. Arrogant, but takes little seriously but his skills. UPDATE: Upon revelation of his Theater sessions, Rico has grown sullen and detached. Melancholy has grown worse over time- swings between depressive and hateful attitudes. Has added alcohol to his vice of nicotine, drinks to excess. Attempted to steal from medical stores- stopped and reprimanded. Still functions as an asset despite this, though devoid of his previous relish.

Team BLAK asset status: ACTIVE

Signature- Dr. M. Lang, Medic

———————————————-

In a drawer in a desk in an office at Mann Co. Headquarters:

Employee File

Name: Rico Andrew Black

Date of Employment: TBA

Position: Gunman, Hunting Assistant

Notes: I found Rico at Helen’s damnable side project. After I singlehandedly destroyed Helen’s damnable side project WITH MY BARE FISTS, I asked him for a demonstration of his skills. Boy is a crack shot if I ever saw one! Offered him a job on the spot. He seemed overjoyed, as he should be! But then he seemed sad, which was the damnest thing. He said he wanted the job but could not accept it until something something soul searching something ‘getting his shit together’.

Gave him full base access, leave to fill in on needed mercenary spots, and provisions when requested. Have his word that he will take position. I am not sure how long ‘getting one’s shit together’ takes, but I do hope he won’t dally too long! There are animals that need shot and punched out by the fists of SAXTON HALE! and his trusty side gunman.

[This just got signed by SAXTON HALE!]

The Real Goods:

Name: Rico Andrew Black

Class: Sniper

Team: Unaffiliated/Freelance Stand-In

Age: 37

Rico was adopted at a young age from an Australian orphanage, to be used as part of a side project by the Administrator- an elite mercenary team, honed by intense training, genetic alteration, and mental control to eliminate Teams that Helen felt were too 'compromised'. Members of Team BLAK included similarly acquired orphans as well as members of the R&D Team, along with one unaltered 'control group' member with a suitable lack of morals and lust for murder.

Rico grew up about as well adjusted as you can expect someone raised to be an organic weapon to grow up- rebellious and arrogant as anyone who knows he can't be outshot, and in love with the concept and causation of chaos as anyone thrashing against a stifling environment their entire lives. These acts of rebellion were tolerated for a surprisingly long time, until one day. Rico still can't recall what that final straw was- all he remembers is the absolute fury on the face of Dr. Lang- Team Medic, Head of R&D Medical, and, on paper anyway, his adoptive father. As punishment for whatever that forgotten transgression was, Rico was shown his leash and chain- code words implanted in his mind to force him to obey commands given to him. He was also informed he would be kept on a tighter tether from then on.

If that was the only punishment meted out to the Sniper that day it would have been distressing enough. But there was something unintended that occured- Alexandre Coeurnoir, the Team Spy, had overheard everything, and wasn't about to let full control of another human being go to waste. From then on, Rico's life went from stifling to unbearable as he found himself at the mercy of Alexandre's every whim, unable to either tell anyone about what was happening or escape from it. He was helplessly bound in the web of a terrible spider and, as the Spy teased, there was no hope of rescue. No one would come to save him nor care enough to. Any attempts to run away was met with an eventual undeniable pull to return, and he was as blocked from taking a more permanent exit as he was from telling a soul about his torment. His only means of coping came from alcohol, nicotine, disassociation, and his one joy- his beloved motorcycle, Baby. He would ride into the desert for days at a time, denying the call as long as his shackled mind would allow, and pretend he was the apex predator he once fancied himself as.

And then…

With the other members of Team BLAK either dead or scattered to finally live their own lives, Rico has kept himself busy keeping his promise to Saxton Hale. He lives primarily at Sawmill, in a treehouse he found in the forest and has since made his own, only going indoors when winter makes it too cold to be outside at length. While solitude suits him, he has made a handful of friends and is slowly but surely learning the one thing he was never taught- how to be a human being.

[lucky-stone-me]

Hello everybody! I guess tomorrow is a big day for the Ena fandom. Not only because it will be Ena Day, but also because we will see a new trailer for Ena: Dream BBQ and I hope its release date.

And well, I think from that point on, the fandom will be transformed again like it was with the appearance of the full first trailer years ago. With the release of the new trailer, new details will be revealed about the characters, the upcoming plot and the world that we will have to explore.

Most likely the game is just around the corner and it will be out soon. So I'd like to leave a time capsule in this post when the game, when the (final most likely) trailer aren't out yet. To share with you how I envisioned the story of Dream BBQ while the game was in development and nothing was known about it.

Because I'm afraid I'll forget it eventually. And I don't want to forget.

I'm sure nothing I say below will be true and it will just be my fiction. But isn't that the beauty of it? To speculate, to theorize and make up your own plot, to invent your own world and think that something might be possible in the game? Just a piece of your mind? And rejoice if it comes true in the end. I'm sure some of you have done something like that, if not for Ena, then for another fandom.

If anyone is still with me and reading this, I really appreciate it! Well, what follows is me descending deeper into my mind!

Disclamer: Everything I have said is just my subjective opinion and thoughts! If you don't like it that's absolutely fine! I have no purpose to insult or demean anyone! Please let's respect other people's opinions and each other! ^^

There are actually so many ways to tell this story or how to start it. But all of these will either be too short or too detailed. I won't like the short version because it's devoid of details inprinciple. And many details are too overwhelming for my brain, and I'll worry that I've missed something.

So... I'm going for the middle ground.

But I will still say that Ena is not some misunderstood character or psychopath for me. (if we're talking about the regular blue and yellow version or Dream BBQ Ena) but creatures that have that physiology/biology. The emotions they feel manifest differently than they do with us. And they also manifest visually (change of face, change of voice depending on what emotion it is, negative or not, and so on).

As an example, as I was imagining it with my friend, it would look about the same if in our world the thoughts of a seller who is yelled at by an annoying customer in a store and seller's emotions were projected on their face and they voices their thinking out loud sometimes :)

For Ena's universe, that's normal. It's not something strange and incomprehensible for the Ena universe. As I wrote above it's just that kind of world. An abstract, webcore one. Which has its own laws and rules, characters and a huge unexplored world.

Also in my understanding the world of regular Ena from the animated series and Ena: Dream BBQ are completely two different universes. With a different world, laws, characters and so on.

Yes perhaps the basics of the world of regular Ena have carried over to the world of Dream BBQ, but also I'm sure a lot has changed.

My story holds on the fact that the main action takes place in a small Japanese town where Froggy, maybe Taski and many other minor characters from the game live. Next to this town is a huge advanced metropolis that is rapidly growing and developing because of the Japanese town and other settlements. Because they involved in some sort of industry? I think so. Next to the metropolis and Japanese town, there is a huge wasteland with a bloody lake stretching out next to it.

At some point, in the small (Japanese) town, Human Ena will appear, who has escaped from somewhere and doesn't want to go back. After many unsuccessful attempts to find out where she's from or attempts to send her back Froggy agrees to let her live in his house in the attic on the condition that she will be useful and help him on his missions.

After a while of living like this, Human Ena discovers that her body is beginning to corrupt, the left side of her body gradually taking on a red hue and at one point the color almost consumes the entire left side of her body except for her head. This pauses her work with Froggy and Taski for a bit. But soon she is back again and helps Froggy and Taski in any way she can.

However, everything changes on that fateful day when Ena is sent alone on a mission to find contact with a pyramid and octopus-like creature (the character from the beginning of the first Ena:Dream BBQ trailer). Contact with this creature eventually goes crashing and Ena gets bulleted.

Ena dies.... Or does she? Because that Human's Ena red body corruption was actually a slow transformation into Ena's BBQ, and because Ena got shot her body transformed into the Dream BBQ version of Ena which is polygonal and we all know. Except without all of her memories of what was going on and what came before. Simply put. Evolving into a better version of herself Reincarnating into the Dream BBQ version of Ena gave herself amnesia.

So she woke up, looked at herself, looked at her surroundings. Asked what the hell was going on, decided to get away from this place. For some reason ( :) ) she caught the aggression of a pyramid monster, but Dream BBQ Ena successfully defeated it and went away.

From that moment Dream BBQ Ena travels to different locations of the world, she works part-time doing some quests and tasks. In some places she gains connections because of this, and sometimes she becomes a criminal in the public eye. And she moves from place to place because of that.

Eventually Dream BBQ Ena's life throws her back into a Japanese town many years later, expecting her to just stop there for a while, buy some supplies, and go on traveling the world. But definitely not expecting that this is the place behind her past.

Thank to all who read this all! I really appreciate it! I think there is still a chance that I can back to this and create some of art or something like that for it. But no promises haha.

[girlnamedangel]

I don't want your body But I hate to think about you with somebody else Our love has gone cold You're intertwining your soul with somebody else Somebody else by The 1975

Sheldon Cooper had two tickets to the Thanksgiving event at the aquarium. Initially, he intended to offer them to Amy Farrah Fowler, assuming she wouldn't want to go with him since they were no longer together. However, to his surprise, she was the one who suggested that, if he was comfortable, they could attend together as friends.

To make the car ride less awkward, Sheldon prepared a list of friendly conversation topics, printing them out meticulously. Amy, amused but understanding, let him proceed. However, as the trip progressed, she found herself growing weary of his absurd questions—one of which was, "What temperature of air conditioning do you find most comfortable?"

Eventually, she sighed and said, "Sheldon, we don’t need a list. We can talk like normal friends do. Just... be yourself."

Encouraged by her words, Sheldon abandoned the script. But what followed was a question that neither of them was prepared for.

"Are you happy with your boyfriend now?" he asked, his voice devoid of emotion but his eyes betraying his curiosity.

Amy felt her breath hitch. She hadn't expected that. Carefully choosing her words, she offered a safe response, "Dave is... very kind to me." She paused, then quickly reached into her bag. "Here, I packed some snacks for you. I know you like to munch on something during long drives."

Like a child easily distracted, Sheldon’s attention shifted. "Oh! Cereal! Excellent choice, Amy," he said, happily crunching away, allowing the tension in the air to dissipate.

By the time they arrived at the aquarium, they had fallen into an easy rhythm. It was as if they had never dated for five years—as if they had always just been two friends enjoying each other’s company. Both were silently grateful that, at the very least, they could still function as friends.

After a day filled with laughter, lighthearted banter, and reminiscing, Amy found herself hesitating over a question that had been lingering in her mind. Dave—her boyfriend—had expressed a deep desire to meet Sheldon, given that he was one of his biggest fans. She knew the window of opportunity was closing fast.

Taking a breath, she finally asked, "Sheldon, I know this might be a long shot, but... Dave would love to meet you. He’s a huge admirer of your work. If you’re not comfortable with it, that’s totally fine. No pressure."

Sheldon glanced at her, contemplating. The day had been unexpectedly pleasant, and in some small way, he wanted to return the favor. "Alright," he said, surprising even himself. "If it brings you joy, then I shall comply."

Upon arriving at Amy’s apartment, Dave greeted them enthusiastically. "Dr. Cooper! This is an honor," he gushed, shaking Sheldon’s hand with a little too much enthusiasm. "I’ve read all your papers! Your work on string theory is just—brilliant!"

Sheldon nodded stiffly. "Yes, I am aware. Thank you."

Amy chuckled. "Sheldon, that’s his way of saying he’s a huge fan."

As the evening went on, everything remained cordial. But as Sheldon observed the way Amy laughed at Dave’s jokes, the way she looked at him with unfiltered affection, a strange sensation crept up his spine. He knew he should be happy for her. He should be proud that she had found someone who made her smile so freely. And yet…

He wasn’t happy.

He should be. But he wasn’t.

The realization hit him like an unsolvable equation, one that sent his mind spiraling. How could he call himself a genius when he had let Amy go? For years, he had fantasized about time travel, theorized about its feasibility—but never before had he wished for it more than in that moment. If he could, he would go back. Change things. Fix things.

Time passed in a blur, and before he knew it, an hour had gone by. He sat motionless, lost in thought, until Amy’s voice gently pulled him back.

"Sheldon?" she asked softly. "Would you like me to drive you home?"

Before he could respond, Dave interjected. "You must be exhausted, Amy. If it's alright with Sheldon, I can drive him home instead."

Amy turned to Sheldon, waiting for his answer. Dave watched him expectantly. The air felt charged, as if something was about to break.

Sheldon opened his mouth. And then, without thinking—without filtering, without logic, without his usual restraint—he spoke.

"I want you again, Amy." They all knew Sheldon had simply answered the question. But they also knew he meant something else.

[sammylbir]

Day 6: The Tragedy (Junko x Kyoko)

*Kyoko stared outside the window, mustering the dark red sky and the shadowy clouds in the air, from her Office in the Future Foundation.

To think that this sight should have been nothing, but a macabre fantasy of sorts.

Straight out of a nietzschean novel.

A world full of darkness, where god abandoned its toys and moved on.

Yet.... this was reality. All done by a bored criminally insane teenage girl.

Destroying the world for nothing, but shits and giggles.

Kyoko met many screwed up people over the years and yet, Junko was the one who kept on surprising her.

She never saw anyone, who was so smart, charismatic, pretty...and so utterly insane.

...................

"You know, you should smile more.", Junko told her, as they sat inside the closed in academy, at the table in the cafeteria. Kyoko looked up from her novel and tilted her head, glancing at the model curiously.

"Hm. I never expected you, to worry over someone else's well-being.", Kyoko mused, causing Junko to pout offended.

"Gee, just because I'm better than all of you, doesn't mean I'm heartless.", the fashionista replied and tried to sound offended, even though Kyoko could see through the mask easily.

The void........

*"Of course not.", Kyoko answered with a frown. *

"Say you're sorry!"

"Hm.", Kyoko replied and glanced around.

The others had already gone to bed.

It was just Junko and her....

...........

A year ago:

Junko leaned forward and gave her a grin.

"Awww what's wrong? Are you being flustered on our date?", she teased, causing Kyoko to shake her head.

"It is not a date. Stop lying to me.", the detective answered and crossed her arms.

"Oh? You think I'm lying to you?", Junko asked and looked down saddened. "That hurt...you know I love you."

Love.....

"I'm not in the mood for your games.", Kyoko told her adamantly and crossed her arms, giving her a cold look. She expected Junko to tease her further and and to mess with her even more.

Yet....that didn't happen.

Instead...the mask began to slip. Bit by bit.

Her smile dropped.

Her eyes lost all of their warmth.

And the skin gained paleness and her hair seemed almost dead at certain points.

To say that the sight surprised the detective, would be an understatement.

"Mask's off then.", Junko told her, her voice being completely cold and devoid of life. "Funny. I never would have thought that I'd meet someone like you."

"Like me?", Kyoko asked carefully and tried to not look afraid and remain as composed as usual. Junko nodded slowly, her movements being almost alien.

"Yes. I met so many people in my life...all of them look the same...all of them act so predictable.....all of them....but you."

Junko leaned forward and forced a smile that didn't even look genuine at all. She grabbed her fingers and forced them up.

"I act so charming and convincing...yet you aren't fooled by my mask one bit. Can you tell me why? Why won't you fall for my charms? In all honesty.... I do not get it."

That last part had a bit more emotion than the rest of the words.

Did...she really not understand Kyoko?

Kyoko closed her eyes and shook her head.

"If you do not get, how I am not falling for you...then you are not nearly as smart, as I thought you were.", she explained to her and stared into the corpse's eyes. "I could explain it to you. But you still wouldn't get it. Because being human is something you will never, ever be familiar with."

"....Hm."

Junko stroked her own cheek.

"You know I love you for that, Kyoko.", she mused emptily. "You see through me...the real me..... It's a shame that you don't love me, as much as I do."

"........Hm."

"We could have done so much together....but I suppose you want to keep holding onto your weakness. And to not embrace the darkness in your heart."

"Never.", Kyoko told her adamantly. "I will never see the world, the way you see it."

"Hm."

Junko slowly got up and towered over her.

"We'll see."

And then suddenly, the mask was back on.

"Anyways..", Junko told her, acting as fake as usual. "I'll go bully my dumb sis. Bye!"

With that, she walked off and approached the door. She blew her one last kiss and she then left the cafeteria.

And Kyoko was alone.

Staring after her....

....

Staring through the window with her cheeks, as red as the sky.

The End

[viktheviking1]

FizzxBlitzø

Warning, implied sexual content

Stumbling out of the bar came Blitz and Fizz had their arms around each other together as they made their way over to Blitz’s van, tipsy and trying to steady themselves.

“And then I said, ‘What family?’”Blitz said and they both cry-laughed together.

“You absolute little sh*t.” Fizz laughed, “And you said you weren’t a comedian anymore.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a special brand of humor I suppose. Only us circus f**kers really get it.”

“Buckzo would be so ashamed.” Fizz snorted.

Blitz guffawed, “Good!”

Fizz caught his breath and turned to Blitz, "You know, I haven't had such a good time since Ozzie took me to a rock concert with 8 dozen cans of silly string." He wiped a happy tear from his eye, "We should do this again sometime."

Blitz couldn't believe what he was hearing. Only one thing could make this better. He looked around and saw the street was entirely devoid of people.

Too drunk to think clearly, he smirked and pinned Fizz against the side of the van, "Ya know, the night doesn't have to end here. I could take you back to my place, or we could go to yours? I wouldn't mind some quality time with you and the Misses."

Fizzarolli felt a tail curl around his inner thigh, "I- uh- . . ."

"Come on, Fizzy~" Blitz cooed in his ear, "Show me some of what you've learned in the lust ring."

Fizz swallowed and tried not to shudder as he felt Blitz's tongue on his neck, "I'm not sure if-"

Blitz slid his tongue across Fizzarolli's sharp teeth. He felt Fizz melt in his hands and he loosened his grip on the jester's wrists. Fizz's metal arms wrapped around Blitz, pulling him in. Blitz let his hands wander; one found its way to Fizzy's lower back while the other held his chin. He pulled back a little, and looked into Fizzy's eyes. They both stared deeply into each other, intoxicated by the nostalgic scent of an old friend, and the taste of old feelings on their tongues.

"I've missed you so much." Blitz finally let himself say.

"Yeah," Fizz interlocked his mechanical fingers with Blitz's and smiled, "Me too."

Fizz leaned in and kissed him again. Back still against the van, He wrapped his legs around Blitz, bringing him closer, and felt something there. He pulled away again, smirking, "Oh~ Hey there big mannn -ngh!"

As he spoke, Blitz pressed his hips harder against him, "Heh. Right back atcha."

They fell back into a kiss and Fizz undid the tangle of his legs to stand up on his own again and before Blitz knew it, he was the one against the van. Fizz pressed his body against Blitz, feeling the tension of his abs, the heaviness of his breathing, the heat of his skin. He bit into his lip just enough to draw blood, and Blitz drank it in like it was cheap whiskey. Oh, f**k yes. Fizz let his tail slithered up Blitz's shirt and soon one was in his pants.

He then broke the seal of their lips and began nibbling on his neck, a small part of his brain thinking about how they would need to go somewhere more private and soon. Blitz caught his breath as he held him close, clutching onto Fizzy's shirt. His other hand wandered up to Fizzy's horns.

A hot, burning pain filled his mind; a scorching memory, the smell of burning flesh. Blitz pushed Fizz as hard as he could off of him.

Fizzarolli stumbled backward, barely catching himself, "Wha-? What? Why- oh. Oh. Oh, f**k!" He grabbed his horns, flattening the jester hat, where they ended.

They both stared at each other, stunned and unsure what to do.

"I, um- I'm sorry, let's-" Blitz stepped forward and began reaching for Fizz's face again.

"I need to go." Fizzarolli turned and began walking towards his limo, a couple cars down.

Blitz followed, "Wait, no! Fizzy!"

"Don't call me that!" Fizz wrapped his arms around himself as he walked.

"Hey! Lover tits! Date time's over. Take me home." Fizz shouted at the two hellhounds who just so happened to be making out against the side of the limo. The one against the limo growled, while the other giggled.

"I'm sorry, Fizz. Let me make it up to you." Blitz grabbed his hand, and tugged it towards him, but instead of bringing fizz closer, the metal arm extended.

Fizz watched the surprise on Blitz's face, and gave a big sigh, "There are reasons why I was hesitant to start; reasons why we could never work, Blitz. Why can't you be satisfied with what we have now? What we finally have back after all those years?!"

"Because I love you, Fizz!" Blitz was crying; he couldn't lose him again, "I've always loved you."

"No, Blitz you don't. You don't even know me." Fizz contracted his hand back and looked at it sadly, "You love the me from before. You love the life we had before."

Fizz gestured to himself, "I have accepted what's happened to me. I have made a life for myself-"

"So have I!" Blitz stepped closer.

"No, all you have created is a nice little distraction for yourself." Fizz jabbed a prosthetic finger at him, "Just something to take your mind off the pain; to stop the never ending spiral. But I've gotten out of it. I've found someone who accepts me for who and what I am. All the parts of me that are and aren't there, and I've accepted reality head on. I am better because of the pin I've gone through, and I've healed all the parts of me that needed healing."

Blitz watched as one of the Hellhounds opened the door of the limo for Fizz, "That's why we won't work. That's why none of your relationships ever work. Not with me, not with Verosika, and definitely not with the Prince. Because you are still broken; stuck in the past. You might be more broken than I ever was."

Blitz could only stare, hurt and confused.

Fizz got into the limo, "Take me to Ozzie."

Blitz watched the limo pull out of the parking lot, and drive away. He stood alone on the street, crying silently.

[toujokaname]

Card shuffle / Episode 5

Author: Akira

Characters: Kohaku, Niki, HiMERU, Hiiro

"This 'Matrix' is just a waste of a project that boasts an impressive facade yet remains hollow at its core."

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[ Read on my site for a better viewing experience using Ois~su ♪ ]

Season: Winter

Location: Café Cinnamon

Kohaku: Uh-huh, guess callin' it an end-of-year special program hits the nail on the head. With all the talented people wrapped up in the new year's developments, they're so busy that the leftover folks get the scraps.

Niki: *Munch munch munch* End-of-year specials always get ripped apart... Come to think of it, doesn't Rinne-kun always get on edge around the end of each year, too?

Kohaku: He's a surprisingly passionate man. Can't stand half-baked efforts, maybe?

HiMERU: Well, not all specials are so ostentatious.

However, this "Matrix" is just a waste of a project that boasts an impressive facade yet remains hollow at its core.

Kohaku: What a way of puttin' it...

HiMERU: There is a reason for HiMERU to say so.

The producer leading this project isn't held in high regard at ES.

Not gonna lie, it's an individual notorious as a LandmineP.

Niki: Uwah, HiMERU-kun used youthful language like "not gonna lie"~♪

HiMERU: Rather than youthful, you could call it anachronistic. Anyway, if ES is labeling it as a major event, the producer in charge should have a solid track record and skill.

Niki: Like Anzu-nee-san, maybe? She looks like an ordinary girl, but it surprised me to hear she's a very reputable and talented producer!

Kohaku: There's no way you didn't know that...

Niki: I've got her food preferences down pat!

Kohaku: Why can't ya put that enthusiasm into idol work?

HiMERU: Fufu. Well, you're right about that. Seems like Shiina's unusually understanding today.

If it's being touted as a major event, someone like Anzu-san should have been put in charge.

But in reality, Matrix is a landmine project with a low budget, a useless producer, and numerous unfavorable conditions.

Hiiro: Fumu, is it really that bad? That Matrix thing?

HiMERU: Yes. It's a textbook example of a hopeless project.

Matrix will take place over a month, during which Crazy:B and ALKALOID are supposed to have a total of ten matches—so it's said.

Despite the unnecessarily long time commitment, there are no specific dates or instructions mentioned in the plan.

Niki: Ah~ That's a problem, even I can see that... If I dunno in advance when it'll be busy, I can't adjust my part-time shifts.

HiMERU: Do you even need to work part-time at a restaurant anymore? Compared to the summer, we've been earning a reasonable amount of money through our idol activities, haven't we?

Niki: Being a chef's my main profession!

Kohaku: He says, eyes all sparkly...

Hiiro: Hehe. Actually, what HiMERU-san mentioned was on my mind too.

We're supposed to have ten matches, but what exactly does that entail?

If it involves physical combat, I might be in a bind. If Nii-san's skills haven't dulled, he'd still be stronger than me, and I don't want to hurt Aira and the others.

HiMERU: It seems unlikely that it will escalate to physical violence...

Niki: Why keep the details secret? Such a hassle!

Kohaku: Maybe it ain't set in stone yet, rather than bein' kept secret?

HiMERU: Yes. HiMERU shares this suspicion, as it tends to be the case with hopeless projects.

On paper, the plan looks grandiose, but in reality, its purpose is only to gain approval, devoid of any substance.

There's no preparation, no specific plans, absolutely nothing.

Niki: Is it like starting to chop veggies without even knowing what dish you're making?

HiMERU: Right. So you understand it by comparing it to cooking, Shiina. You can't make a good dish with such a haphazard approach, can you?

Niki: Well, even with that, I could whip up something decent~

HiMERU: A skilled chef like you could. However, it seems that this producer lacks such an ability. Sadly.

Kohaku: Still, if we're called upon, we can't refuse. That's the tough part of bein' newbies... Even if we spot a landmine right in front of us, we've got no choice but to walk that path.

Unpleasant stuff like that always seems to find its way to the most vulnerable.

[ ☆ ]

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[yuwuta]

I feel like the 50/50 conversation has been twisted back into misogyny. “I can’t go 50/50 because I’m just a girl” “he’s a man he’s supposed to pay for me” like guys please 😭😭

Eh idk I could see this maybe at first, but I do think some of it holds true, and it being twisted back into misogyny isn’t often at the hands of women imo. I’m a hater of “I’m just a girl” rhetoric more than anyone, but I think the hard to articulate part of those jokes in this context is that women want relationships that feel just, not simply equal, and one of the only concrete ways to achieve that is financial compensation. In that same breath however, it’s important to remember that financial independence is the bigger factor in being equals to men in society, not just in relationships. Women who advocate against going 50/50, actually, more often than not aren’t doing it for a tradwife shift; I think it’s more so the women who have been working, particularly in corporate America, and realize that if they’re never going to be equals to their male counterparts in work/socially—at least in this lifetime—then they also do not want to go home and split the work with a male partner who already has the leg up socially and economically, while also being coddled emotionally. That’s something I can align with, because yeah, relationships are work, and yes to have a relationship with the average person, again typically in America, it’s not always the case that one partner can provide for the other all the time, but I think that most women, not just influencers spewing anti-college and pro-tradwifism, know that; they’re just sick of being expected to bear the non-financial and financial weight alongside a man who could easily take on the majority of the financial burden.

The resentment of splitting down to the smallest penny 50/50 comes more from men, which is a largely ironic. When men are so vehemently against the idea of equality, that they cannot even factor in equity, it only catalyzes the conversation to inevitably steer towards misogyny—no matter the subject matter. It’s easy to observe and speak to men who hate the idea of women wanting equal anything to them, and see how they quickly twist a justified desire of fairness and sharing from women, into how men should also “feel valued” in relationships. It carves out yet another alley to blame and shame women, instead of taking the time to decompress the systemic issues that, if changed or even just recognized, would benefit both partners. But instead, what’s been taught, and what’s easier—particularly what’s easier emotionally—is to be misogynistic. Men arguing that any push for equity for women is inherently misandrist is a classic pillar of misogyny. And, unfortunately, online spaces its extremely easy to cover up those intentions: opposing 50/50 dating on the basis that “men shouldn’t be expected” to do anything is an argument devoid of context, and is quite literally chronically online in the sense that it is derived and flourishes favorably in a social-media centered world. It’s a blanket opposite that seems innocuous and like self-advocacy, but it’s just a shiny distraction with little depth, as social media prefers.

In actually, quick and blunt opposition and centering of the person with the advantage instead of women acts to silence women and give the stage back to men; it strips away the fact that men being “providers” was not an ideal created by women, but the the US government as war and segregation/anti-black propaganda. When the 50/50 argument is perpetuated by the side that has always had the historical, social, economic advantage, it really does reduce relationships to finances and reinforces the idea that emotional labor and any expression for non-tangible equality by is moot. But because women are taught to appease and seek after men, if men voice how ridiculous they think 50/50 relationships are, there are bound to be women who follow that trajectory; and it only reinforces the cycle of unpaid work, unheard voices, at the hands of a lack of context and critical analysis and lack of personhood for the woman.

Historically, dating has never been “safe” for women, the push for a partner who provides security outside of loneliness isn’t wild, and whenever you bring up money things always quickly get (willfully) misconstrued. Of course it doesn’t help that there’s this simultaneous push for being a tradwife at the same time there are anti-dating/safe dating awareness campaigns; but even that is not coincidental. Again, on the surface, being just a girl and being just a tradwife seems to align with progressive feminism—it appears to want to give women the “break” they desire after working in an unfair society; it appears to provide financial freedom, it appears to solve the equity problem because this way, women would “only” have to worry about intangible costs, not hard finances in a world they were never meant to afford. It’s not hard to shatter that facade and dig a little deeper—and again, I am the biggest hater of this trad-wife shift and just a girlism and girl math, but I do recognize why these ideals exist. It’s misogyny rebranded, as so many things are. However, I do think women advocating against completely splitting a relationship financially down the line 50/50 is intrinsically different than pushing for a man to own all tangible assets in his name and willfully provide a house, utilities and children while also pushing that college is a scam, all in the name of tradition/being a trad-wife. One of those things is a call for tangible equity, and the other is a reduction of a personhood. It’s easy for them to be intertwined, which makes either a touchy subject, but they are, wholeheartedly different. And given the everything of the state of the world, I don’t think it’s ridiculous that women who want equity, financially and otherwise, in their relationships are crazy or even chasing something unrealistic. Regardless of how they feel about relationship finances men should be expected to learn about their own advantages and structural disenfranchisement of women. Wanting a partner who can recognize things outside of themselves and their relationship is just wanting an intelligent and well-rounded person in your life.

[mikegraves]

The Mighty Fall / Part 1

Mikegraves fic from Gideon's perspective exploring Mike's alcoholism and the Glow, inspired by The Mighty Fall by Fall Out Boy

CWs: toxic relationship on both sides, alcoholism, the Glow

it's getting clear, you're never coming clean so i'll lock you up inside and swallow, swallow the key...

“You think you’re sooooo cool, don’t you?” 

It’s times like this that you hate him. Giggling and snorting and spitting his annoying cruelty all over himself like the lowlife he is. 

“You think you’re all– c’mere baby and, and…” He trails off and snickers. “You’re so totally the lamest guy I’ve ever been with. And the richest!” He dissolves into dry, drunken giggles. You hate him.

Michael Loveless, a man with a name that’s all too fitting, is draped over your shoulders, getting his drool on your designer suit jacket. You’d move, but you know he’d make a huge bitchy deal about it, so you remain cramped on the couch, making sure he doesn’t choke on his own tongue.

(Even if it would serve him right.)

“You got anything in the fridge?” He asks, elbowing you. “I want Mike’s.” He stops and giggles. “Hehe. Mike wants Mike’s”

“You’ve had enough to drink.” You say.

“Fuck you, you’re not my dad.” He grumbles, trying to shove your face and missing. “Mike’s ain’t even a drink, ‘s just fruit water or whatever the fuck, jerk…”

“I don’t even have that.” You grab his hand and move it back down to his side. “It’s for broke college kids who can’t handle their alcohol.” You pause. “Like you.” Except for the college part, because you couldn’t even finish your degree, idiot. 

“Go fuck yourself, Gideon, for real.” He punches your shoulder. It doesn’t hurt, since he’s weak and drunk, but his bony little knuckles stay pressed into your flesh. “You suck. I should just go, like…” He trails off, and you can practically see his brain waves buffering.

“God, sit up.” You push him so he’s sitting next to you, albeit slumped and unhappy. “You’ve really got to learn your limits, Mike…” 

“Omigod, just die or something.” He groans. “Go date Ramona if you hate me so much…”

You thought you’d like him drunk, you really did. Drunk Mike in your head was ditzy, the type to embarrass himself, but in a cute way, a way that gave you the upper hand. 

Drunk Mike is not cute. Drunk Mike is mean and cruel and calls you names, but unlike Sober Mike, he’s serious. Drunk Mike is a handful and a half, a self-centered mess that says every stupid insult and threat that pops into his mind. Drunk Mike is everything wrong with your boyfriend dialed up to a hundred, and the worst part is that Drunk Mike only ever wants more.

If you were the type to worry, you’d be terrified for him. As it is, you’re furious.

You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t sign up to be the caretaker-slash-punching bag for an alcoholic manchild with anger issues. 

(And yes, maybe you’re a little mad that you can’t control him in this state. Maybe you hate being the object of anger rather than its director. At least you’re self-aware.)

“Don’t talk about Ramona,” You say, trying to keep your tone even. “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Oh, yes I do.” He snickers, devoid of humor. “Ramooooona. You’re never gonna get over her, are you? Never gonna accept that she fuckin’ hates you!” He laughs again. “Stupid…”

You grit your teeth. He’s not sane right now. You’ll deal with him in the morning.

“Y’know, I bet she talks about you, too. I bet when she’s sleeping with her new boyfriends and girlfriends, she’s all– oh, you’re soooo much better than my ex, he was such a weirdo control freak!” Another mean snort. “And you totally deserve it, too. I bet you treated her way better than you treat me. Right? Cause you don’t even like me, right?”

He pokes and jabs at your shoulder. You feel your palm itch.

“You totally don’t give a fuck about me!” He laughs. “You think I’ll sleep with you just ‘cause you’re rich and you buy me drinks, and you’re right! You ass…”

It would be so easy. Just a little tap and he’d be infected with it. He’d be fixed. (But what if he turns out like Ramona?)

You don’t think he’s smart enough to harness the Glow, but he’s certainly got enough self-loathing for it. 

“I’m not even blackout, you cheapskate… next time you’re gonna buy me more!”

As much as you hate him, you don’t want to risk him getting away, too. You don’t want The Glow to push him away.

“God… no wonder Ramona left you.”

Time seems to stand still. Your hand is glowing before you even realize it.

“The fuck is…”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish his question, because you press your hand against his forehead, sending Glow coursing through his body. His eyes flutter closed, and the energy dissipates, except for the pulsing halo of light around his head. 

Perfect.

The quiet hangs heavy in the air, Mike’s body still and peaceful. You run a hand through your hair. There’s no going back now.

If you were a little more illusioned, you might say that it’s for his own good, but it really isn’t. It’s for your own good. 

Now that you’ve got a path into his head, you could hypothetically fix him. You could erase his alcoholism completely. But you won’t.

You don’t want to fix him, you want to trap him in his problems. You want him to implode, you want him to beg you to pick up the pieces.

You pick him up and set him next to you in bed, clothes still on, the scent of sweet vermouth hanging in the air.

You lie there, wide awake, as his head slowly dims into darkness.

Emotional warfare.