#at least he finally admitted therapy is not helping him

[slutshamethesquirrels]

Suguru Blue - Part 3

Pairing: cult leader!geto x reader

Word Count (Part 3): 4K

Warnings: dub-con, rough sex, mentions of violence, sexual trauma, murder, mind games

From then on, he was playing a new game. One he’d never before played, and one he wasn't very fond of. He’d always been a sore loser.

It was part of his problem with Satoru all those years ago. The white haired beauty had forever been two steps ahead of him in almost every facet, whether that be skill or strength or sheer willpower. Satoru was always just a bit better in every way. An inch or two taller, a smartass retort just a second quicker, the bravery to kiss another boy just seconds before he himself had built up the confidence to do so. It was only natural that the only person who could be even more prideful than himself was Gojo. He knew he had no chance of convincing him to join himself in his defection; to do so would be convincing him they were on the losing side of history.

When the time came, he couldn't even look at him, knowing the ultramarine eyes of someone who once trusted- once loved him were boring holes in the back of his skull. But in a way, he'd finally won. The victory wasn't sweet. Going back on that decision would be to admit defeat yet again, so he never had.

Victory tasted a lot like curses sometimes, he decided, but not as intense. Less of an assault on your tastebuds and more of a kind of bile and acid constantly lodged in the back of his throat. Perhaps it was his urge to finally taste something a little sweeter that had him bending over backwards for you.

It was uncomfortable at first, practicing your stupid therapy terms. Boundaries strangled him. Coping Mechanisms felt like a serrated knife to his jugular. Repairing and Rebuilding felt like getting tossed down the stairs of some abandoned hotel by a first-grade curse at sixteen years old, every step knocking the wind from his chest.

It was helping, though. Whether he liked it or not. His first real reality check had come not from you, but from Nanako, who’d casually pointed out over breakfast how happy he’d seemed recently. He didn’t know if that word had ever been used to describe him, and he wasn’t sure he’d use it himself.

And still. This had to be at least close, right?

Here, on the couch with you, some old band he didn’t know emanating from the television, the screen just bright enough to cast shadows on the walls of your living room. There’s a faint acknowledgement swirling in the back of his brain that there was midday sunlight streaming in through the windows when he’d settled here with you nestled against the plush of the sofa, but he can’t care, not when your giggles are flooding his ears, your shoulders shaking against him as you scroll through social media. In the past fifteen minutes or so, you’d found an account full of cat videos, and he’d found himself entranced by just how easily you were amused.

He was learning a lot about you. You didn’t have many friends, but the ones you did were incredibly good ones (“Quality over quantity”, you’d said.) , you preferred fruity sweets to chocolate ones, you had the most irritating habit of getting in bed with your socks on and then kicking them off in the night. Each new detail was a brush stroke, your quail feather pen dipping into indigo ink and broadening his horizons, somehow without the slightest hint of knowledge about his world.

He wanted to tell you, to kneel at your altar and confess his transgressions, but he couldn't even expect God to have mercy on him, much less a monkey- human girl.

In another world, another life, somewhere far away from reality it’s different. He decides as he twirls his fingers through a loc of your hair, watching the way the lapis glow from your phone screen makes it shine. It's just the three of you; You, Satoru and himself. The two of you fight over who gets to sleep in the middle damn near nightly, and he ends up taking the spot for himself. He swears it's to stop the bickering, but the truth is he loves the way your individual breaths caress either side of his neck. It is because he feels the best trapped underneath the weight of the both of you. It's because he knows you'll fall asleep first and he'll get the last kiss from Satoru, but not before he watches one half of his soul trace the other one's sleeping features with his fingers-

“Hello? So far away.” Your voice cuts through the fantasy, and he’s ripped back into reality, clearing his throat as if he'd just been caught doing something wrong before humming in acknowledgment. You had a habit of making him feel raw, but right. Like a callous cut from a heel. Tender, painful, exposed, refreshed.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You prod again when he doesn’t elaborate, and he chuckles.

“Just a penny? I’ll have you know, these are expensive ideas-”.

“A nickel then.”.

“Quarter.”.

“Okay, listen dude. I know the economy’s bad but holy shit.”.

He smirks as you discard your phone on the table and crawl up his body until you’re straddling his abdomen, his hands gently cradling your waist. It's the closest you’ve allowed him to get in a while, and it makes his skin itch. Though if he's honest, he doesn't know what to do when you finally let him truly touch you again. These days you felt more fragile than you used to, or maybe that wasn't the word he was looking for.

Not fragile, but delicate.

You were healing just as much as he was. Every time he saw you it seemed he made a new mistake. When he would move too fast and you’d jump, only to grab his hand and assure him you were okay. When he'd get a little too quiet, furrow his brow in thought and catch you staring at him like a deer in headlights. When he rolled over to hold you in the middle of the night last week and you’d awoken in a complete panic, desperately crawling away from him and gasping your safe word before he’d reoriented you.

“Blue!”

He didn't want to be the cause of your nightmares. And yet he couldn't bring himself to walk away. Not even for your own good. He’d done that before. This time, he was determined to do it differently.

Your hand moves to brush his hair back away from his face, and his eyes flutter shut almost as if to spite him. Vulnerable, raw. Hurts.

He's unsure if he's annoyed by or thankful for the shrill and sudden ringing emanating from the pocket of his hoodie, and at this hour there was really only one option for who it could be. And no matter how much he enjoyed his time with you, they would always come first. He can't explain why it is that he grabs the front of your shirt to keep you there as he shifts and produces his phone from his pocket and presses it to his ear. There's something in him that craves the pain, it seems.

Nanako doesn't wait for him to greet her before she starts.

“Are you coming home or not?!”

Somewhere in the distance he hears her twin chastising her for being so rude, and he cracks a fond grin at the sound, his eyes watching his own hands fiddling with the hem of your shirt as he argues with her. Yes, he's aware he’d been away quite a bit in the past week. No, of course he didn't hate them or wish them a slow and painful death. Yes, he would be home when they awoke in the morning. Yes, they could go out for breakfast.

When his eyes meet yours again your brow is furrowed, confusion twisting your pretty features.

“Who was that?” You ask, and he notices your shoulders growing tense. You didn't fully trust him yet, like a dog that had been wounded by a hand that was supposed to lead.

He flips through his repertoire of rules. Communication, honesty, vulnerability. Did it count when it came to his home life? Of course, he could never be completely honest with you, or at least not anytime soon. There was a large part of him that hoped he'd meet his end before he was cornered into breaking your heart like that. You were the only one that could make him feel real guilt. It was the one thing you possessed that Satoru didn't. Regardless, he had to at least try, to give you what he could.

“My kids.” His grip on you tightens as he watches emotion swirl in your eyes, unwilling to let you mentally or physically run from him until he could explain.

“They're not my blood. Fate brought us together when I was around nineteen. They were in a bad place, so was I. At the time, I think all three of us needed someone who understood… we just kind of never left each other.”

You soften a bit and he mirrors you, melting back into the couch as you seem to relax some. He loves that feeling, he realizes. There's some sort of reward center in his body that seems to be triggered only by your approval. It feels like when he used to steal Satoru's expensive jackets in the winter. Warm. Heavy.

“Nineteen is really young to take on two kids.” You murmur.

He can't exactly wrap his head around the way you're looking at him, so he just pulls you down into the crook of his neck instead, wrapping his arms around your frame.

“You're correct. Of all the mistakes I’ve made, though, that's not one of them. I’d do it all over again for them.”

“You're sweet.”

He doesn't respond, too focused on the way your breath is fanning across his neck to argue with you.

***

He can't justify his actions.

None of them. He’d never made a single rational decision in his life, actually. Geto was a rollercoaster of contradictions and conundrums, but somehow things always worked out. He survived, preserved, weathered the storm time and time again. His foundation was solid, though the paint on his walls weathered and the windows of his soul were cracked and patched with trash bags and duct tape.

He’d always been strong. Resolute. Assured.

So why, then, was he here? Standing at the door of your apartment in the dead of night, trying to find the will in himself to knock? Like you might reject him? You had every right to reject him. You should reject him.

He needed you. Never in his life had he needed anyone, but he was certain the weight in his stomach would crush him if he couldn't see you. Quickly. You’d become a strange safe haven for his sensitivities, something he wasn't all that happy about. It was like being stranded on a sinking ship.

Alone, he'd be able to consign himself to his fate, nothing but indigo waves spanning for miles around him. He could find a sense of calm in the inevitable.

You were a lighthouse. A beacon of hope in the distance. You gave him the idea that there was a way out of his fate, and with it, all the anxiety of chasing that faith. You gave him a chance, choice, and raised the stakes to desperate levels. Without you, there would be none.

He isn't sure what's worse, but he knocks anyway.

It takes you a minute and a few more rounds of knocking, but just when he's about to turn on his heel the door swings open.

“Suguru?” The half question comes through a yawn as one of your hands moves to scrub at your eyes with a balled fist. He’d feel bad for waking you if you didn't look so angelic in your sweatpants and oversized t-shirt. Your knotted hair frames your face in a way that makes you look younger, softer, more vulnerable.

He immediately feels a little lighter.

“I-”

Right. Here he was, running to you for comfort, with no good excuse as to why. He didn't even understand it himself.

“I had a nightmare.” He can't look at you when he says it.

A small hum escapes you, along with a yawn, and then you’re stepping to the side, motioning him in. He hopes you're too tired to notice the tension in his gate, the way his skin bristles like he’s stepped past the barrier of a veil and directly into a domain, like there was a guaranteed hit barreling his way and he could do nothing but his best to protect himself. He’d walked the floor of your apartment so many times, slept in your bed, ate at your table– so why now did it feel foreign? Why did the click of your lock behind him sound like the cock of Toji Fushiguro’s revolver?

He shouldn’t have come here. Not in such a chaotic state. He should’ve waited until the sun was out, until the sky was painted a much lighter shade of blue; one that wasn’t so difficult to see through.

Your fingers find his wrist, tugging him lazily back to a bed he considered sacred.

He lets you.

He lets you get settled, guide him forward, pull him down to you with delicate fingers on his arms, his shoulders, his jaw– until you’re tucking him into the crook of your neck, undoing the hasty bun he’d made out of his hair on his way over, massaging his scalp with your fingers– soothing him.

“I’m too heavy for you, y/n.”

It was true in more ways than you could possibly conceive of, but you only pull more of his body weight over your frame until your drowning in his hair, his broad shoulders, his battle-sculpted arms. The large scars that form an ‘x’ on his chest brush against the fabric of his tshirt, and it feels like they might tear open once again.

“Don’t care.” You sigh out, dipping one hand below the fabric of his shirt you rake your nails lightly along his back. He shudders, watches the way the moonlight streaming in through the window dances across his forearm, illuminating the scars you’d blessed him with.

He didn’t know where all his scars had come from, to keep count would be pointless. He kept track of the important ones, though. The four on his arm, the two across his chest, the bite mark on the inside of his thigh from where Satoru had gotten just a little too rough back in the sweltering dark of his dorm room. Sex was always like that with Satoru, with himself. Less of an act of love, and more one of consumption, of control, of power– of revenge. Another game to win.

“You deserve better.” He argues, self assured in at least that.

“I don’t want better.” You’re just as resolute as he is.

He lifts his head to protest, but you silence him by pressing your lips to his. It’s a comfort and a curse, a gentle hand and a closed fist, a lullaby and a jolt of electricity that makes every neuron in his body fire off in quick succession.

How long has it been since you kissed him? Did it always feel like this?

“Please.” The pathetic word escapes him before he can stop it. Would humans always be his weakness? You brought new meaning to the idea.

Another kiss, and then two, and then three. Chaste, gentle motions that burned worse than any fire he’d ever faced. His whimpers sing a song of mercy, knuckles ice white as he grips the bedsheets behind your head, head diving forward for more, more, more–

He wanted to consume you, swallow you down like one of his curses, pull you out when it benefited him, telepathically know where you are at all times, trap you in his web of darkness and chaos and never ever let you leave him. He licks into your mouth and you release a gasp that makes his stomach clench.

“Suguru.”

It sounds like a warning. His lips tremble when he parts from you, and he just can't move back as much as he knows you’d probably prefer. He rests his forehead against yours, keeps his eyes shut, breathes in deep drawls of your breath, whispers an apology.

Your hands card through his hair.

“You're really pretty, you know that?”

He peeks at you through heavy lids “So I've been told.”.

You roll your eyes and he grins, sly but genuine.

“I’m trying to be nice to you, dickhead.”.

This time, he giggles childishly as your hands push at his shoulders, guiding him flat on his back so you can straddle is waist. It's almost ridiculous, the way the heat of your body turns his insides to a blended mess of organs and raw emotions. His heart swells, his lungs tighten, his stomach flips, his cock twitches.

Your hands slip under his shirt, palms stroking against his skin as you slide it up over his head and toss it to the side. His abdomen flexes under the soft skin of your hands. Your fingers dance along the scars, trace his rigid form.

Your mouth replaces your hands, wet warm silk gliding down his chest, swirling methodically, flicking over his nipples. He gasps for air, fists your hair, trembles against the urge to fight you, begs himself to take your worship. He had no problem accepting it from anyone else, after all.

“You’re shaking” You note, but don't stop your assault on his senses, licking one long stripe from his naval to his neck, the way his back arches is mortifying.

It feels like forever you stay there, exchanging spit, moans, blotting each other purple with no teeth. All suction, pressure, aching.

When he finally dips his fingers past the band of your sweatpants he's met with an obscene amount of slick. He circles your clit a few times, swiping your whines out of your mouth with his tongue, panting when you get impatient all too quickly, reaching down to guide his fingers into your body.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs, but he already knows the answer.

“More.”

Who was he to deny you?

It isn't long before you become insatiable, finding yourself sinking down on his cock with his sweats still gripping his thighs and your shirt still clinging to your frame, damp with sweat.

He loves the way you look when he splits you apart, lips quivering and brow furrowed as you struggle to accommodate him. He loves hollowing you out, carving a place for just him to nestle deep inside your pretty little body. He loves the way your pussy clenches, sucks him in, holds tight like he was meant to be slotted inside you, jerking against your cervix, painting you from the inside out with his precum.

He helps you, guides your hips as you bounce desperately against him, chasing your high shamelessly, melting his brain with every moan. Electricity strikes his body with each stroke, his muscles jerk in tandem.

You struggle when you get close, your thighs jerking against your own desire, pace stuttering. He thinks it's precious, the way you're edging yourself to tears with your sheer inability to keep up with yourself.

Eventually, though, he does find a bit of mercy within himself, flipping you over on your back, fucking into you steadily, toying with your clit.

You dig red stripes into his back as you come unglued, sink your teeth into his already bruised shoulder. He hopes the burn never fades.

When he cums, he doesn't pull out, stuffs you full of him, hopes you can feel it in your soul. Your legs lock around his waist, hips rut animalistically against him, making sure nothing goes to waste.

He can't win this game, he tells himself as he watches you sleep, traces your features with his fingers. There was no world in which you were safe. Not in this timeline, but maybe the next.

Which game was more childish? Thinking he could change anything for Satoru? Or thinking he could change anything for you?

He falls asleep with you nestled in his grip, sometime after the sky turns a bright baby blue.

[satureja13]

While Vlad and Ji Ho and Sai and Jeb enjoy their couple time together, good mates Jack and Kiyoshi are having a picknick. Even though they are supposed to meet for dinner soon. Jack is always hungry. And Kiyoshi wonders why they are not having pizza again, Jack's favourite.

Kiyoshi doesn't realize he's walking on the water again. Or he forgot they are back in the Muggle World and he shouldn't reveal his divine nature here... Let's just hope no one notices him ö.Ö'

And while Jack is happily riding around with a Jet Ski he rented, Kiyoshi is happily browsing his phone. He'd even been longer without reception than the others. 60+ years! A lot to keep up with.

When Jack finally left the ocean and joined Kiyoshi on his blanket, it already got dark and they have to leave soon to meet the others. But Jack wanted to talk to Kiyoshi. He needs to make sure this mateship of theirs is not going to drag them back down to the hell they've been in during their relationship. Jack is not sure how to start and how Kiyoshi would take it so he waited until they were almost due to leave... Jack: "Kiyoshi..." Kiyoshi: "Hm?" Jack took a deep breath in and then he let it all out: "You know, after I - uhm... left you, I had to have a talk with Greg. And as much as I hate him, I think I have to admit that he was right - in some points at least. He said a relationship is hard work. And he didn't hesitate to point out that I also played my part in ruining - eh, us. So I want to make sure we talk about things that make us feel uncomfortable. And things we need - and want." Kiyoshi laughed: "Ah, he gave me that talk too. Even twice. To make sure it seeps through, I guess." Jack: "What? When?" Kiyoshi: "When we were here together, at Beltane. I was still a bit out but he managed to reach me, he is very powerful. And wise."

Jack: "So, what do you think?" Kiyoshi: "I think we should follow his advice and work hard. I cherish ... our mateship too much to let it go to waste again. I promise you, I won't keep anything from you and talk to you if I feel uncomfortable. And about my wants and needs. I will share it all with you. No more hiding - no more secrets." He wanted to say '...you' instead of '...our mateship', but it's not the right time for this when Jack wants to discuss their mateship. And he's still so anxious and vulnerable. It's just the beginning. And they have all the time in the worlds to sort it out. And so they agreed to the new terms and conditions of their mateship.

But Jack was so anxious of being hurt again, he couldn't help it and asked: "Do you think it will work?" Kiyoshi: "Let's just do our best, hm? We both changed, a lot." Jack pondered about it for a while and came to the conclusion Kiyoshi was right. Kiyoshi had spent 6 decades in that tree to reflect and Jack went through the hell of pain for leaving him, his Alpha. And the therapy game chased him through an almost relationship with Lou and even killed him so he could make a brandnew start. They now both know what they have lost. And what they have been missing. A chill wind blew over the ocean to the beach and Jack, who was still wet, shivered. Kiyoshi noticed it: "Don't tell me you are cold!" Jack: "What? No! I'm the Super Soldier, after all!" Kiyoshi laughed: "Hey, no more secrets! You promised!" Jack: "Fine! I'm cold. But it's just a reaction. Because my skin is still wet!" Kiyoshi: "Aouwww. Come here." And he pulled Jack close.

And Jack leaned in. He felt warm in an instant. Kiyoshi smelled so good. Like sun and ocean and food - and Kiyoshi's very own, incomparable scent. Jack: "Do you think this is a weird thing to do for mates?" Kiyoshi: "It's only weird when we make it weird. If it feels good for both of us and we agree on something, nothing should be weird between us. Right?" Jack moved even closer to Kiyoshi's warm body: "Right. We can't compare our mateship with what others have and do, I guess. Not even our woohoo felt weird for me. It felt good, great even. Even though we didn't both agree beforehand. I only felt so bad because I thought it was - eh ... inapproprate, you know. Since you're a diety now." Kiyoshi: "And I was horrified because I knew what you went through and I - eh ... felt I kind of exploited the situation. Though, I had no choice, like you. But it felt good for me too." Jack sighed as he remembered: "So good." Kiyoshi pulled Jack a bit tighter and put a soft kiss on Jack's wet, sandy hair.

They sat there, cuddling, until Jack's phone made weird zombie sounds (that's his ringtone for Sai...) Message from Sai: 'Where are you? We're waiting at the restaurant!' Seems it's really about time to leave. Kiyoshi was already dressed while Jack was still shaking the water - and sand - out of his hair. Kiyoshi endured it - and smiled. It might sound strange, but this quirky side of Jack played a big part helping Kiyoshi get out of the tree. And he wouldn't want to miss it.

Eventually they put the blanket in Jack's inventory and ran over to the restaurant boat in the harbor of Porto Azzurro. Jack knew they would have pizza for dinner, so he was fine with eating something else at their picknick ;)

Ah, it's been a long time since I've seen them so happy together. One of the best days I've ever had with them <3

'It's merely human situations The moments between us both The distance, the passions Finding a reason. Today...Like always, I am thinking of you.

Yes, you see. It's merely human conditions Feeling well or not If it's by day, or if it's by night If it's nostalgia or post-love. Today...Like always, I am thinking of you

Like our time hasn't yet passed. Tell me, where are we? What could happen? Hearts bound by an arrow, but, To each other that's the barrier that must be demolished I am thinking of you. I am thinking of me' Cosas della Vida - Tina Turner & Eros Ramazotti

Outtakes

Ah, I so wanted them both on the Jet Ski, like on their date over a year ago here at Tartosa! But Kiyoshi refused to stay in the water because he developed thalassophobia (fear of water). Who knows when -.- And I only realized hours later: I should have given him that fear-be-gone potion or already turn off that stupid fear option (but it would also remove the wants, I guess?) but I don't use them anyway either. Little Goat: 'That's boring!' Little Goat: 'Let's go over and watch Ji Ho and Vlad again, then!'

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter: 'Here comes the Sun' from the beginning ▶️ here Last Chapter: 'Who killed Jack?' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 23-28

[emilyblame]

1.26.2023

“Let me speak to your manager” / Oh, you mean Benji? / He’s fucking busy / ’Cause I just drove through AP / On my brand new jetski / So leave some tears after the **** / If you’re feeling silly / I’ll call you, beep you later / If Otto doesn’t serial kill me. / I’m out of my cage / And I’m on the stage / I’m dying to give you a show / I’m alienated / Way overrated / Here are a few of the notes: / My fans are the best / They’d love me more dead / But man / I can’t die ’til I finish the album / ’Cause if I could time it right, shit could go Platinum / But baby / it’s getting too loud. / Da da da da, da da da da da / And everyone’s freaking me out / I wake up and I’m up and I’m down / Yo shut the fuck outta your mouth / Bite tongue ’til there’s blood in my mouth / It freaks me out. / I’m Miss Congeniality / Everybody’s proud of me / But when they try and tell me / Volume’s muted like they’re sound asleep. / Therapy’s not working / I don’t understand / So I kill time playing tennis with your favorite band / We’re singing / Da da da da, da da da da da / It gets real super dark around the edge of my heart / Around the edge of my heart / It gets real fucking dark around the edge of my heart / Around the edge of my heart.

[dawnwriterimagines]

The Guilty Plea

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FEM!READER TASK FORCE 141 x FEM!READER

Traitors Among Us (Part 1) and Innocents Among You (Part 2)

Verdict Due (Part 4)

Summary: As you're discharged from the infirmary, under watchful eye, you head to Laswell to talk on the rest of your now ruined military career. Of course, you're forced to confront your team as it happens, the last people on earth you'd like to see.

If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?

---

Running your fingers along the raised, pink scar across you cheek, the feeling of it...it really looked terrible. A part of you thought it would disappear, hoped it would, but it didn't. It just became severely more noticeable. Looking at this, you knew you'd always have to think of it. You'd sport this reminder for the rest of your life.

Looking away from it, you find your own tired eyes in the mirror, you haven't been sleeping well. Or at all. You can't remember the last time you got 4 hours, let alone 8. Dark circles still surrounded them but at least the bruising and the swelling had gone down.

You couldn't recognize yourself. Not really.

This woman looked so exhausted, so frail and so goddamn angry. It was accurate, it was how you felt. All of it. So, you supposed that the mirror's reflection was the truth, this was you indeed.

"If you need another day or two, no one will ask questions."

You glance over towards your psychologist, your fucking therapist, a nice little 'gift' sent over by the bureau to check in on your mental state after your ordeal. Glaring at him through the reflection of your mirror, he sighs, putting down his pen that slaps against his notepad, "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"I'm going to Laswell." Ignoring his statement, you speak. "I'm ready. I'll pack up. Get back to base. Vera had me discharged from the infirmary. I can start ov--"

"Vera?"

"My nurse. You met her," you continued, annoyance spiking at the interruption. Your wrist brace squeaking quietly under the pressure of your fist tightening beneath the table.

"Right..."

"Do you listen to a word I say outside of...my 'trauma'?" You wonder, bluntly.

Your psychologist blinks, surprised, before clearing his throat, appalled. "If you feel I can be more attentive to your state of well-being throughout our process, than by all means--"

"Oh, so 'no'?" you lean back into your seat, a strained laugh leaving you. His lips press together and you continue before he can find the words. "Because whenever I mention leaving this fucking team, you either adjust our schedule for another two weeks or suggest hypnotic therapy, as if I need anyone else digging around to fuck up my mental state."

"I never meant to imply--"

"Oh, you implied it," you interrupted, gritting your teeth. "I know what I want. And I want off Task Force 141."

He taps at the leather of his notebook. "Scars heal, just remember that, Ms. (L/n). The reminders of your experience shouldn't have to haunt you."

"It's not the scars, I've had my share way before this," you admitted, rising to your feet. You exhale deeply that tells to the effort of it, the steel gear hinges along your leg braces shift with your change of position. Still getting use to them. "It's the person."

"Has she changed, you think?" the psychologist begins to write, getting somewhere.

"She doesn't exist anymore."

Finally, placing the mirror down and onto the side table, you pushed off of the table, rolling your IV pole along with you. Passing the chair your psychologist sits on, he closes his notebook with a frustrated huff, looking over his shoulder. "Session over for you already, Ms. (L/n)?" he sighs. "We've still got the hour."

"I'm done," you take the knob in your hand. Turning.

In more ways than one.

"You understand that, informing your captain on your leave is required of you. Have you spoken to any of them, in the last few weeks?" he spoke up, quickly. "I'm sure giving them a space to open up, share from their view--"

"Why should I care--"

"--will give you better understanding, better clarity of the situation they were in--

Appalled. "What the fuck?" Jamming the door closed with a loud, shuttering thud, you whip around. "IT'S NOT ABOUT THEM!" you could just rip your hair out. "Who--who says that to someone?!"

Your psychologist sits there, eyes wide in confusion. "What--"

"Christ, can you hear me? Can you--can you see me? I've got metal plates in my spine, braces holding my knees in place and nerve damage that'll never heal! Who gives a fuck about them!" your skin feels red hot, your face twisted in rage. "I gave my life! My life to this! And then I'm tortured, I'm threatened, drugged and beaten by my own team, my f--my family for eight fucking years..."

You continue with a heavy chest. "And I'm supposed to invite them for dinner to talk and listen them bitch and moan about why they thought it was necessary to beat me to death for two weeks?! Fuck you!" you spat. "I don't owe them anything!"

"That's not what I was trying to say, Ms. (L/N). I apologize, I overstepped. Come sit down--"

"Of course you meant it," you interrupted, mock humor. "Don't be a pussy, own up to it. Revel in your truth. Be tter yet--" you snatch a journal from the cabinet. Tossing it his way. "Make a note of it."

Turning the knob, you leave the room with a slam of the metal door.

---

You were officially famous. On the base, you were now a legend.

A story that would be mentioned and told at lunch for months. Probably years.

First, you were a rat. Next, you were innocent. This was the most gossip any of those in service had ever seen in their years of service.

An interesting reminder to those in service that you weren't safe off duty either.

You learned a few days ago that there was an update put into the interrogational unit, something about how to properly go about dissecting evidence and being on the lookout for enemy spies in the militia.

You guessed you had been told about it in an effort to be appeased by the thought that the head of control paid attention to anything beyond their own noses for once. But, you had little to no faith in a system that's nearly killed you on and off the field by now, so it didn't matter.

You doubted the new rules would be followed though, there was a plethora of things they'd done to you in that cell that were both illegal and unsanctioned. Most of all, that were expected towards an enemy, a prisoner of war at best, and not a fellow marine.

You arrive at the housing quarters, swiping your key card, pulling the handle and entering the wing. Immediately, you're greeted by a dozen eyes, conversations stopping short and clothes ruffling to silence, suddenly whispers fill the space and eyes turn away.

"Oh, god, it's her..." says one man in the far corner.

"Shut the fuck up, man!" came a harsh whisper back.

"I didn't know it was that bad..."

All those eyes on you, makes you pause in your step, looking around at all of your fellow soldiers, the men and women you've served with for years. Many you recognized, ate with, fought beside that turned their backs to you now. Out of respect? Out of distaste, morale, nerves, pity, it all didn't matter. It all felt the same.

The wheels attached to your IV pole suddenly sounded much too loud on the polished flooring, as you walked down the hall as fast as you were able to.

Breathing out deeply, you get to an elevator, pushing on the button, once, twice, three times, just open goddamn it.

With a ding, the metal doors open, and suddenly you're aware that people could be in the elevator, they could be in this elevator, he could be in this elevator. Your eyes flicker down to the floor, your grip on the pole of your iv tightens, your shoulders stiffen, waiting for a blow that will never come.

You stand there as the doors open up, the small space empty, the metal walls reflect only her and a streak of lighting from the ceiling.

Looking up slowly, finally taking a breath, before sliding the iv up and onto the elevator, following it as you press your floor number along the way.

The ride up is fast, a little rumble as it stops, and then the doors open. Faster than you were prepared for.

Peeking out down the hallway, luckily no one to bump into, which you were thankful for. But, it didn't make this hall any less haunting. You'd been cornered in this same hall, you could recall being hauled out of the room after the solid handle of a knife hits your temple.

You don't go down fast enough, whipping around as you stumble to take the wrist of your attacker, mostly for balance, it's Price. In shock, you're unprepared as Johnny's arm encircle your neck, locking you into position as you both stumble backwards onto the floor. He blocks your airways, hushing you harshly as you struggle, feet kicking out and your vision blurring as your team surrounds you. Your family.

That was quite the headache to wakeup with afterwards.

You hadn't quite remembered until now. Being back served as a hell of a kickstart to your memory.

Just a few more reasons to get the fuck off of 141.

Getting off the elevators, the metal doors sliding closed behind you, you make your way down the hall. The polished flooring creates a subtle squeak through the wheels of your iv pole, your hand absently running over the fading stitches along your side.

Passing the shadows of your tortured memory, the doorway of the office was closed, locked.

You pass Kyle's room.

Johnny's.

Finally, you rush up to the next room on the left, grabbing the handle, before beginning to twist, but then you're yanking your hand back as if the metal had burned you. Your back ramming into the back wall, catching yourself, this wasn't your room.

It was Simon's.

You'd spent hours, days, in that room. More than your own.

Why wouldn't you? You were about to get married to the man. You had more in this room than you had in yours.

Sharp breaths leave you, shivering in your effort to keep yourself together, your head goes back into the wall, swallowing down the ache in your chest.

You wait, muscles tensed and your body pressing back into the wall, hoping it'd absorb you if that door opens. Listening for every sound, any pin drop, even an exhale from beyond that doorway. Luckily, Simon seemed to be out for the day.

Hurriedly, nearly running, you steady yourself against the wall as you rush down to the corner of the hallway, finally finding your room.

Turning the handle, it's not locked, it's broken. It opens with ease.

Entering the room slowly, pushing the doorway aside, the crackle of glass beneath your boots as you step forwards, clothes and picture frames laying scattered.

The mattress flipped and ripped open, springs and cotton cut from it. Your wall of metals and certificates, from acts of bravery and mementos of valor, discarded, later you'd find them in the trash, one with a bullet lodged into the gold.

Sniffling as you leaned down, picking a specific frame off the ground, the only one that hadn't been broken. Laying along the ruined rug, with no care for the glass digging through your jeans, you stare at the still shot of your family.

The only family you had outside of Task Force 141, your father and his sister, military brats themselves, until their retirement. Your mother had passed, or just up and left, days after your 5th birthday, you weren't completely sure, the story kept changing every year. But, these two were the only family you've ever known, ever had, until you joined the military, following in their footsteps.

They'd been so proud when you arrived back after your first assignment, in truth you were heavily traumatized, but seeing them, you just had to smile. Having a family that understood the harsh toll on the line of a trooper, now a lieutenant, it was always easier to bring your troubles to them. But, they were also military nuts so "suck it up" was also a quick go to answer from your aunt, while your father was the smoother talker.

They had met Simon, loved him, his rank, his love for you, his seriousness. They trusted him completely with your heart.

So, when he called them, after the evidence leaked...

They believed him.

"What're you talking about?" You took the handle of the chair in your grip, easing you down into it as your legs do weak at what you were hearing. "I didn't...I didn't do it, Dad."

"Do you know how humiliating and disappointing--how it felt to hear him say that to me, hm?" he says, static crackles on the reciever. "My daughter...my own flesh and blood...working with terrorists--"

"I'm not working with anyone! Are you-" you huff out a breath of disbelief. "Are you even listening to me? I've never betrayed the code. How can you think that way of me?"

For a moment, he's silent. "Alright, then," he began. "Than, what'd you do? huh?"

"What--what..."

"Oh, come on, (Y/n)!" your father yells. "What did you do?! What could they possibly have had on you that made you the most likely target? You had to have had done something, been somewhere, were with somebody you weren't supposed to be with! They didn't just get that information from anywhere."

"What the fuck--" Your expression twists with frustration and misery, running your hand through your hair, pulling at it. "I've sacrificed every part of myself for this job, for this team, what do I have to gain from throwing that all away? They send me everywhere, places you've never heard of, places you'll never hear about and people you'll never have to meet, because of me! Why would you just believe Simon? Why couldn't you just wait to talk to me?!"

Hearing your father scoff at your words was painful. "What reason do I have not to believe him? He knows you, maybe even better than any of us. Besides, he was going to be my son in law--"

"I'm your daughter! Fuck Simon, what about me? You'd believe him instead?"

He sighs. "Listen, you're upsetting Cass. We didn't expect your call. I gotta make this brief..."

"You're upset?" pulling at your hair, sucking in sharply. "I'm the one who's permanently fucking altered here. What do either of you have to be upset about?!"

"Watch your fucking mouth!" he seethes. The anger in his voice isn't new, but the way he spits it at you is. "You did this to yourself, I didn't. Maybe that's what your nightmares were about, am I right? Your guilt?"

Wiping the streaks of tears that had fallen down your face, lips quivering and chest aching with sobs you frustratedly shoved down. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I don't deserve the disgrace that will come with you as my kin, I've lived my part of this war. No daughter of mine should even be in this fucking position," your father spat, disgusted into the receiver. Suddenly, he was the cruel, bitter old man your mother had always known him to be, you wished she had stayed to at least remind you of that. Maybe it wouldn't have hurt as much. "You should be ashamed of yourself, but at least you got yourself out it. The least you could do for us."

"Well--what does that mean?" you spoke, quietly.

"Don't call again..."

"Dad, no--" you break this time, a sob escaping you.

"Me and your Aunt Cass..."

"Daddy please, don't do this--"

"..We've decided to cut ties. We're not taking any heat from this, you're on your own," he finishes, clearing his throat, waiting a moment, listening to the pleads and cries of his only daughter, his once pride. "You take care of yourself. Goodbye, kid."

"Why can't you just believe me? Why?!" you cried.

"Don't come to the house."

"No, no,--" the line goes dead. And staring down at your phone, his caller id going blank and the call disconnecting.

Your phone all of a sudden feels heavy, the device and your hand falling down to your thigh, before the phone slips out of your grip and onto the floor. You sit there silently, until your tears drop up and even after.

Staring at the photo now was haunting in its own way, it was just another painful reminder.

Using the bed frame to stand to your feet, your grip on the frame is painful as you squeeze it, the glass cracks audibly.

"Bonnie..."

Whipping around at the sound of John MacTavish's voice, you back up a few steps at the sight of him, your back hitting the edge of your desk.

He reaches out as you stumble, before his fingers curl back into his palm as you find your balance, his hands receding back to his sides. He doesn't enter the room, just lingering just beyond the doorway, his eyes flickering around the room, guiltily.

"I didn't know--we didn't know you were out," he speaks quietly, as opposed prideful personality that translated into his voice usually.

You say nothing.

In the dark, your eyes are wide and your shoulders are tensed up, he can see the glint of your leg braces, the iv pole at the side, the scar beneath your eye. You looked terrified to see him.

"We were coming back to clean up today, just got back from...from a mission..." he stutters on his words, shifting his feet.

"It's been a week."

His lips press together hearing your voice. "I know..." Johnny glances around at the room he'd let those officers destroy, it hadn't been them, but they might as well had done it. "I know...we just...didn't know it was so bad."

"Really?" your voice is mockingly sweet, drawing out the word. "You didn't know? Well look..." you hold up your family photo, the light in the hallway catching on the glass. "You missed one."

Your hand dropping, the heavy frame comes down just as fast, ramming into the ground, the glass practically exploding on impact.

Johnny flinches, the photo of your family...He looks back to you, surprised. "Bonnie..."

Snatching the next closest thing from your desk, a ceramic cup. "Oh, wow, can't believe you guys missed this one," you chuck it into the wall. It breaks on impact, the remains scatter along the flipped mattress and onto the floor. "That used to be my favorite mug by the way."

The Scotsman worriedly steps forwards, 'Lass, I'm sorry--"

"FUCK YOU!" you spat, coming into the light. You're sure you look deranged, and you didn't care. You could've wrapped your hands around his throat, killed him right on the floor and you wouldn't have blinked. "It doesn't mean anything! 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', 'I'm sorry', over and over and over again! As if you shouldn't be! Your apologies mean fuck all."

"I know...I know," he breathes. "But, I've gotta say it anyway, bonnie. I should've believed you, there was no reason not to. I know that now. I just--"

"Believe me!" you cut him off with a yell. "Trust me! Fucking 'HELP ME'!" you screamed with the same fever as your days in the interrogation room, that terrible cell, the cold, the burn and pain. "I cried it all to you, to all of you, and nobody came. Nobody came for me," you breathe in sharply. "It doesn't matter what you should've done. You didn't do it!"

Johnny's eyes are red, he opens his mouth, closes it and then swallows down whatever chokes him up as he looks at you. "I should've came for you. I wish I did. I wanted to, Bonnie..." he steps forwards, and you recede back away from him, your eyes narrowed with violence. "I'll never forgive myself for not listening to you. For not coming to help you. For laying a hand on you. I'm so sorry, (Y/n). I'm sorry..."

I'll never forgive myself... "That makes two of us," you assured.

Johnny's eyes widen, before they close, his guilt ever consuming. He can't help but understand, to respect your decision, to know things can never be ok again. "(Y/n)...."

Grabbing hold of the nearest thing, a pencil cup, you hurl it at Johnny. He doesn't put his hands up, flinching as it hits him, the metal clinking against his kevlar, eyes closing then opening, he stands still. "I don't forgive. I don't accept your apology. I don't fucking care about it!" with each sentence you throw something else his way, a broken frame, the trash bin, a pillow, the CD player.

His hand has to come up for the knife you unsheathe, a memento from one of your missions, it's rusted, ancient probably. But, you hadn't given it up to a museum or to pawn, you had nearly died on this mission, saving Johnny ironically. You had to keep it.

Seeing the weapon, his defensive position is instinctive but his hands drop just as fast, he understands, you need this. You deserve this. "If you need to..." he speaks. Your eyes flicker up to him, away from the knife. "If you need to, I get it..."

And you need to. You really fucking do.

Your grip on the knife is dangerously hard, it hurts.

Looking at Johnny, he'd been your brother in more than a few ways on and off the field, he had been your comfort, your friend, your family. You had bled with him, held onto him as he carried you from the battlefield, joked, laughed, screamed and cried. You've loved him for years.

He'd had a rough few nights you could see that. He was quieter, reserved. Almost as terrified to see you, as you had been of him.

And you could kill him right now and never bat an eye.

And so, throwing that knife was so fucking easy.

Johnny's eyes close as you do just that, fists clenching and teeth biting down on his tongue to prepare for the pain.

The ancient weapon whiz's through the air, the sound is sharp and he knows it will cut through him like butter.

The thud rings in the room, and Johnny's eyes blow open wide, holding his breath as he collapses to his knees, before turning to you.

You dig into the pile of clothes that had been cast aside, a pair of sneakers and a new shirt. You don't look at him a single time as you take it all, stuffing them in a bag, and leaving the room, passing him completely, a limp in your step.

Johnny releases a pained breath, tears finally leaving him as he looks up, the knife lodged into the frame of the doorway, just barely missing him. The sleeve of his uniform ripped open.

He sits there in the quiet, destroyed room. A testimony to the relationship he's destroyed between you.

Part 4!! OUT NOW

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

We talk a lot about how traumatized Crosshair is, how much he has been through, what he's had to overcome, and how much our man needs ALL the TLC and hugs and comfort and therapy (and boy oh boy he does!)...

But Hunter strikes me as the kind of person who is equally traumatized and scarred for life (just in different ways) but keeps it buried deep because he's supposed to be the leader and he WILL stay strong, he is fully aware Wrecker spent months barely holding him back from careening off the edge of the cliff and so he's going to work even harder to hold himself together now because Wrecker shouldn't have borne that responsibility, he's going to be there to hug Omega when she sobs from the nightmares and comfort Crosshair when he wakes up in a cold sweat clutching at the hand that's no longer there and convince Wrecker to take a break when he starts to wheeze while walking up the path to the Archium or gets that far-off look in his eyes as he stares at the mangled breastplate hanging up in his room...

He's going to do all this, and he's going to stay acutely aware of all their struggles and will help them through all of it, and he might quietly admit to having a bad dream when Omega talks about it, but he's never, ever, EVER going to tell anyone that he quietly goes to his room to hide his panic attacks and how hard it is to let Omega out of his sight and how difficult it is for him to convince his brothers to go out and try some new hobbies because he is so afraid they're going to get hurt but he can't tell them that and how his throat still feels like it's closing up every time he looks at his siblings and notices the one who isn't there and never will be again...

And the thing is, Omega and Wrecker and Crosshair know how much Hunter is struggling, but they don't know exactly how to help him because he keeps saying he's fine, and he's going to keep saying it because he's the older brother and he's supposed to take care of them and he failed at it so many times and he's NOT going to fail now...

But they keep at it, Omega insists that they all have a "camp out" in the living room all together at least once a week (Hunter doesn't have nightmares then) and Wrecker makes Hunter come with him to try a bunch of new hobbies until Hunter's discovered six new interests and Crosshair who has finally forced himself to go to the memorial at the Archium now somehow manages to drag Hunter along with him every few days and they sit together and remember their brother (until said brother finally comes home, of course)...

And by the time Rex contacts Hunter to let him know the vault kids' families have been found and asks for help getting them all relocated to safety, Hunter watches his family gear up to go, and he realizes... not only are they okay, but he's okay, too.

[sweetsuo]

as per usual, I wrote WAY MORE than was necessary cries. Sakura may be a bit ooc but i was trying to be consistent with the concept of him getting used to affection over time ;v; also color coded speech bc i wanted to try it out

𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲

Suo Hayato x Sakura Haruka x Fem!Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆! For the love of all that is mighty do not take this as actual psychological advice or a viable treatment for you! More of this disclaimer and information is after the fic.

cw. exposure therapy. systematic desensitization. cucking. fingering. edging. masturbation. use of 'she/her'. praise. pussy smacking. friendly competition. hair pulling. Genre & Syn. [ SMUT! ] Your boyfriend Sakura has always been shy and easily embaressed. You help the best you can until you're at the very last rungs of the desensitization ladder. Your bashful boyfriend offers that Suo help with the last demonstrations. wc. 7.2k thank you to zevie, dahlie, and adele who all beta'd this bitch for me!!!

Sakura’s sense of responsibility was always something you admired. He’d always been a natural leader, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He’d come a long way in Furin since he first arrived as a teen, and now even lead municipal patrol programs on his own while Umemiya handled teaching the next generation at the reform school. You had a crush on him ever since you met him as a server at Kotoha’s cafe. So after a long road to romance, you both finally got together once you were in your twenties. There was just one problem with your devoted boyfriend. 

Sakura always had such a volatile reaction to intimacy. Holding your hand and giving compliments were few and far between simply because he’d blow up red whenever he even attempted to. You thought it was charming, but it is impossible not to have some sort of strain on the relationship in a circumstance like this. You want cuddles! Affection! You know Sakura has the potential to give it and that he desperately does. He just needs a little help. So you research exposure therapy and come across something called ‘systematic desensitization’. Your boyfriend agreed to this without a second thought. He’d do anything for you and he knew he had to grow past his aversion to affection. 

After work, you talk with Sakura about intimacy and ask him if he’d be comfortable trying this out. You just wanted to try it out casually as Sakura was never afraid of intimacy, just uncomfortable by it. So first you both practice meditation and breathing techniques to calm down his heart and head. 

Then you compile a list of exposures. Thinking about intimacy, watching intimacy, engaging in intimacy. You ask about different types of intimacy to see which ones he is most comfortable with to least comfortable with. You set a strict rule with him that you both are to not engage in intimate acts until everything was done and good with. It’s hard to keep. You don’t compliment one another nor do you touch. Luckily, holding hands and minor touches like on the back or arm he is perfectly fine with at this point so that was alright to engage with. It was a trial in your will power!

After about two months, you got through most of the list without a hitch step by step. Anytime Sakura was uncomfortable, he’d breathe deeply and slowly and try to focus on sounds around him as opposed to his internal dialogue. Pride overwhelmed you when he could engage in those acts with you without panicking! It also was a cute little game to see at what points he started to breathe slow to calm down. It added to his charms. 

It wasn’t until you got to things like kissing that you hit a bump in the road. You separated witnessing acts versus engaging in them versus seeing them through a screen. PDA like kissing is not super common out in public unlike holding hands, complimenting someone, or just being appreciative of someone. That’s when Sakura offered something unusual. 

In a mutter, the calico asked, “Why not ask Suo?” He shifted on your couch, arm draped over your shoulder and leg crossed. 

“Huh?”

“Don’t make me say it twice! Just. Text’im or somethin’...” His cheeks were red and you could tell he was focusing on his breathing by the rise and fall of his chest. The thought of you kissing his friend riled him up in a way he didn’t expect. He wasn’t anxious or uncomfortable by it. It was late so you weren’t even sure if Suo would be up. Then again, the martial artist did seem to have an odd sleep schedule. 

“Think he’s still at work?” You asked aloud, not really expecting an answer. It was about 11:00 at night now as you sent the first message.

“Nah. Pretty sure he gets done at 8.” Sakura tilted his head back, emptying his mind and counting the sounds in your apartment. His chest fizzed and bubbled. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt different from when he’d see PDA in the past. He retracted inside his mind, searching for where he recognized this pop-rock sensation. He already could tell he’d felt it before as you both moved through the ladders of exposure. Usually by the time he’d grown accustomed to something, he thought about you in that very act. That’s typically when the hot pink crackling began. 

That’s when it hit him. 

Porn.

Because romance movies had such an onslaught of different displays of affection, you had to go through multiple rungs at the same time. Once you could watch some cheesy chick flicks together, you had offered to watch porn. It wasn’t awkward because it was you. And of course, the first few times Sakura had to stop to take a walk. The lewd moans from your laptop being a bit too much for him to handle at first. Eventually he could sit through an entire clip with self-soothing techniques. He’d realized then that he’d be doing this with you. To you. The thought of touching your bare skin was tantalizing. And his chest bubbled all in the same way when he thought about you kissing Suo. 

Sakura let out a slow breath. 

“Oh! He responded!” You jolt, curling over your screen. Sakura peered over you, attempting to read upside down. The light of your phone illuminated your pretty cheeks in the dark of the living room. Even with the TV flickering colors, Sakura could see the tinge of pink. 

“What’d he say?” 

“Well, I gave him my address and he said he’d be right over...” Your voice trembled and your lips rolled together. 

The calico leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours. His cheeks flushed at the act, but he’d grown somewhat accustomed to physical touch enough for him not to freak. “You don’t have to... ya know –“ He cleared his throat, “do any of that if you don’t want. Jus’ figured it’d be easier.” His voice is low and soft despite that obvious falter at the mention of an act. Sakura had always been such a sweet boyfriend. He cared more about you than he could even say. He wouldn’t have ever agreed to your little experimental scheme if he didn’t want to do better for you in the first place! So if anything made you uncomfortable, he’d be sure to fix it. Even if that meant sucker punching Suo. 

“No, no. Ah. I don’t know how to explain this,” You chuckled awkwardly, “But w-would it be bad to say it’s a turn on?” 

“A what?” 

Oh he was dumbfounded. Gob-smacked, even. 

You dropped your phone in your lap and pressed pretty digits against your warm cheeks, “You know in that one porn we saw with the girl who had the-“

“The flower on her h-hip?” Sakura completed your sentence, hand now coming up to his neck. 

“YEAH! How’d you know?!” You leaned into him, “I can’t believe you paid attention to that! I mean I can because you’re trying so hard!”

He flushed, searching for words amidst your excitement only to stutter, “I-it was hot.” 

The porn in question was a woman cucking her partner with another guy. It was a random video you clicked on at the time, but you were sucked in. It was hard to ignore the growing sensation between your legs when you watched. You were so enamored that you completely missed the hard-on your boyfriend sported while watching. Or that he masturbated to the sounds of your moans while you showered shortly after. 

“Do you think Suo would-“ You trailed off, considering the comfort of your boyfriend and his progress with sensitization. 

“He would,” Sakura muttered again, “Don’ worry ‘bout it.” He averted his eyes, sucked in air, then let it out in a stream, “We can ask. I’m good with it.” His romance detector might be over-reactive, but it almost was never wrong. He knew Suo had a thing for you from the way Suo teased you. Once in a while you’d take one of Suo’s MMA classes and he’d tease you about your form. Or sometimes the three of you would take Jou’s judo class. It was hard to miss the way Suo looked at you when you were pinned under him. It never quite irritated Sakura because he knew you were his and he’s known Suo was a good guy since high school. Plus, he actually didn’t mind watching someone more skilled than himself handling you in ways he didn’t know how to yet. Since then, Sakura knew he could spar a little more roughly with you. 

There was a knock at the door. You hopped up and down the hall to greet your guest. 

Sakura shifted his posture to sit upright, head tilted down, and hands folded at his lap. He breathed in and out. In. and out. He wasn’t nervous, surprisingly. He was excited. His body twitched at the chit-chat approached the hall. He didn’t think about the words, just took note of the sounds around him. Calm. Nothin’ to be nervous about. When weight shifted on the couch, he opened his eyes to Suo politely sat a cushion away. 

“You called a good teacher, Sakura.” Suo grinned, “Education is the best way to grow beyond nervousness~. We’re kissing, correct?”

You and Sakura sported matching blushes. You part your lips to answer. Sakura beats you to the punch, “The whole th-thing. If you want.” His brows are furrowed and his eyes shone with conviction you hadn’t quite seen yet.

Suo’s lips formed an ‘0’ before they settled into a wide grin, “You want to be cucked? That’s surprising!” There was no judgement in the words, simply a question. A teasing question, but still just a question. 

“Jus’ show me what to do,” Sakura whipped his head to the side in an attempt to hide the raging red raising to his ears. He pouted. Can’t deny something that’s true, though. Can’t deny the way his body reacted, either, with his jeans growing ever so slightly tighter. 

Meanwhile, you glanced between the two, sucking at your bottom lip nervously. You stood between them, fiddling the hem of Sakura’s T-shirt. It was big on you. Big enough to reach mid-thigh. It was thin as well. The fabric loosely folding at the pique of your nipples. Everything felt bare and real. Their exchange, this situation, it all was tangible now. Your own inexperience and insecurities had been helped as a byproduct of helping Sakura. You mimicked his steady, meditative techniques. 

“Are you comfortable with this, dear?” Suo’s gentle words drew you back to reality, “You seem like the nervous one, now.” He laughed musically. It broke the tension. 

Sakura’s hand covered yours, brows curving in concern, “If I kick his ass would that make you feel better?” 

You snort, holding back your own laughter. He was so sincere! “I’m okay. Just nervous. I uh... don’t have much experience myself. Missionary basically.”

“Oh my! I hope the foreplay was good,” Suo exclaimed. As soon as you grimaced, he understood, “Ah. None?” You shook your head. The auburn tutor let out a shoulder-slumped sigh, “Men can be so disappointing.” He gestured for you to step in front of him, your legs standing beside either of his. He leaned forward so that his hands could graze the sides of your thighs. Their touch gentle yet electric as they caressed up and then down. In one feel movement, he hooked his hands behind your knees and pulled you to a straddle onto his lap. Heat circled the shell of your ear as Suo whispered to you, “I’ll teach him right.” The corners of his lips curled mischievously, loving the way your pretty lashes widened. 

“We’ll start with the kiss.” Suo peered to Sakura, reading his reactions and posture for any objections. Sakura’s chest rose and fell in semi-controlled, audible heaves. His hands pressed onto his thighs, denim imprinting against Sakura’s palms. Pupils were dilated. Perfect. Suo now shifted his gaze to you. You, who had caught his attention from the very beginning. 

You had been friends with them since high school and left with sorrowful goodbyes for university. When you came back more beautiful than when you had left, Suo sorely regretted letting Sakura shoot his shot first. He was happy for his friend. You were a catch! And quite frankly, you were suited for one another. No other person would be as patient as you with Sakura’s intimacy issues. Sakura loved you for it, too. Everyone saw it and knew it. However. Every time you came to Suo, tears in your eyes over the lack of physical touch and words of love, he saw red. 

Suo thumbed over your lower lip, sticky with gloss. He brought it to his own lips, licking up the flavor. Mint. Divine favor of the God’s, was it? Surely, he was blessed with this opportunity tonight. He hummed contently upon the realization that you’d been staring. Just to give you a show, he licked his lips. When your thighs reflexively squeezed his, he chuckled. 

“Hand placement is important. You have to be observant of their reactions,” Suo’s hands first rested on your thighs. As they worked up, you felt an anticipatory roll in your stomach. They reached the crease of your hip, giving a gentle squeeze at the plush roll of flesh. The muscle of your thighs flex, resisting a grind at his touch. Hoping he wouldn’t notice was wishful thinking. He picked it up immediately. “Did you see that?” The tutor’s gaze didn’t leave your body and neither did your boyfriend’s, “That’s a good sign. Try it. Just like this –“ Suo gestured for Sakura to come closer, which he obliged. He took Sakura’s hand and placed it at the same spot. His thumb pressed into the crease of your thigh and hip while his digits squeezed the fat of your side. Your practically purred. Suo’s hand at your right and Sakura’s at your left. Both feeling the way your muscle restricted your naturally desired movement. 

“Oh.” Sakura exhaled, practically breathless from this interaction alone. Suo narrowed his eyes, amused at both of the reactions he elicited. 

“Then put your hand here –“ Suo guided Sakura’s hand to the back of your head, “Keep it there. A hand here is intimate if you enjoy eye contact.” He takes the hand guiding Sakura’s away and takes your chin between his thumb and index. His grip is strong, but not forceful as he tugs your head down. A suggestion to meet his gaze. When you do, you’re locked in. His eyes are warm and darkened honey, catching you like a fly in the half-lidded gaze. 

Sakura was enraptured. Suo didn’t even need to ask this time. Sakura saw it all. The shift in your posture and reaction of your body to their touches burned into his memory. You were a perfected movie reel played in slow motion across his mind. Heat singed his cheeks, digits, and most importantly, his lower abdomen. Maybe it was Suo’s subtle antagonism – how he’d slip a challenging glance to Sakura, that washed away some of Sakura’s bashfulness. He’d always be able to show face for a fight.  A gear had clicked into place. This was like a fight. A style to communicate and Suo was fluent. 

“Now you kiss.” Suo pulled you into him by the jaw, opposite hand gripping your hip. Your lips met, exchanging heat and gloss. Sakura weaved his fingers into the hairs at the nape of your neck. Reflexively, his fingers curled into a secure tug against Suo’s pull. You mewl, mouth opening as your head tilts back with the pull. Your whole body quivers. 

“Shit! S-sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean to pull.“ The calico panicked, grip loosening. 

Suo moved his hand to lay on top of Sakura’s. To reinforce good form, the tutor curled the student’s fingers firm at the scalp, “She liked it. Didn’t you see?” And then he pulled.

You mouth opens in a moan. Always the opportunist, the fox juts in to slip his tongue past those pretty open lips.  He makes a point to invite the sleek muscle in your mouth to dance in the open. Hand at your chin now along your whole jaw, opening it for Sakura’s view. Saliva dribbles from the writhing dance onto the loaned shirt. Sakura’s glued to the slippery strand dribbling down and the way your lip-gloss glistened, smudged between your lips and Suo’s. Words dangle in his mind about your reactions. He gives a shy, tug to your hair now. It’s gentle, light, practically a tickle compared to the accidental first. 

You break contact with Suo with a giggle, “You can tug harder, I won’t break.” 

“Aren’t you brave~” Suo coos. His hand snaked up to your hair next to Sakura’s and with a firm tug, you’re a whimpering mess with your neck exposed.

Sakura’s heart lurched into his throat. For only a moment, fight or flight had kicked in. He released your hair from his grasp so that he could do a full scan. Suo wouldn’t do anything to legitimately hurt you. Rationally he knew that, but this was all so new. It wasn’t until he saw your hips sway with mindless need that it registered to him. You liked this. Sakura decided that he’d sit back and learn as a natural progression. 

Suo noticed the shift. It was hard not to considering that Sakura leaned back onto the arm of the couch, eyes fully on you. The teacher was now a performer on a stage and you were his lovely assistant. 

Hand in your hair tugs your head to the side, further exposing the smooth skin at your neck. He leans up so that your hands grip the fabric at his shoulders shakily. The wet tip of his tongue traces the lines at your throat. The position, the tilt of your head, everything was for Sakura’s perfect viewing. The calico could see every line of saliva made, illuminated by the flickering of the television. Your whimpers and whines, the way your body rolled against Suo’s every touch only reinforcing the act more. 

Maybe it was shameless of Sakura. Maybe your desensitization had worked some kind of wonder. Either way, Sakura was fully enraptured by the movement of your body. Any prior urge to look away or feel shy or ashamed had been washed away by the angelic sounds you made. Having a front row seat to your pleasure, seeing every reaction you made only made Sakura crave to see more. The bubbling fizz at the pit of his stomach flourished and without really thinking about it, Sakura began to unbuckle his belt. 

From the corner of your lust-lidded lashes, you peered hungrily at Sakura’s shivering fingers. Walls cinched on nothing but the thought of his arousal. You squirmed on the lap your straddled, uncaring of your previous attempts to look strong and controlled. 

“Is someone excited?” Suo teased as he followed your line of sight. Words rumbled off the curve of your jaw, eliciting another pitiful plea for satisfaction. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t dripping himself. You were so desperate to move forward, and Sakura was so desperate to watch. Their teacher and performer was more than willing to oblige. 

“Let’s take this shirt off, dear.” 

“Mhm,” You agree shyly. You take the hem of the shirt and begin to tug, but as you do, Suo’s hands grip your waist. He raised his hips and pulled you into a grind along the hardened shaft of his cock, hidden under trousers. You suck in air and flex your core to steady yourself as your legs and walls tremble. The act overrode your prior command, arms loosely resting on your head as the fabric of Sakura’s shirt hangs from your fingers. 

“Oh? I don’t think I said stop taking the shirt off. Did I Sakura?” Suo’s kind, cruel smile faces your boyfriend, allowing his input. He was helping, directing Sakura to play an active role in your satisfaction if he was just going to sit back and watch. 

Sakura all the while had his belt slipped off, jeans had been discarded onto the coffee table. The dampened circle of pre saturating the cotton front of his boxer briefs did nothing to hide the imprint of the thick shaft twitching against fabric. Suo didn’t show a reaction to it, but Sakura was well endowed to say the least. Your boyfriend groans, impatient for the next act to happen, impatient to learn how to better communicate with your body. “Don’ think so.” He responded simply, the gruff and awkward response has your shivering. 

You hurried now to yank the shirt off and toss it aside. Where it landed didn’t matter. Your arms cross over your chest as a sudden flurry of embarrassment overwhelms you. 

“T-take a deep breath, babe.” Sakura’s voice is now louder than the trash TV host in the background. You meet eyes, his desire to see you pleased overwriting his own carnal urges. The calico near choked on his spit when you shine a radiant smile to him in pride. You can’t help but feel proud now that he wished to coax you out of your own comfort. He leads and you imitate the pace of his deep breathing. Suo all the while takes your forearms, softly pulling them away from the bosom he so desired. 

Suo’s hands fall back to your waist. His mouth explores the curve of your breast as they rise and fall with each cycle. He’d work within the calming routine that you and Sakura had developed, moving his teeth and tongue slow to your pace. The nips of his front teeth causing your tempered exhales to turn to shudders. He guides you to a rhythmic grind. Each movement churning your shudders into pitchy pants. 

Sakura, who had been taking mental notes of each action that cause your reactions, now perked at the writhing of bodies. Inadvertently, he had synced his breathing to yours and in effect, vicariously poised himself in Suo’s spot. His own hips rocked with the air subtly and subconsciously. You were so gorgeous as you leaned back on display. Sakura practically could feel the twitch of your fingers on his knees as they did on Suo’s, desperate for steady contact. Sakura’s own tongue twitched as Suo’s circled your perfectly perked nipple. He wondered how much self-control Suo had to not just undress and fuck you like that. 

“Fuck. You’re so hot, baby.” Sakura’s hand reached for the hem of his boxers. 

Suo clicked his tongue in the way one does to scold a dog, “Sakura, I thought I was the teacher here? Shouldn’t you be paying attention to her?” He halted all movement, barely breathless while you heaved and greedily ground on him for more, “Pause, my dear.” You were broken from your own world, pouting at the man who commanded you to stop. Not that the command registered as serious. Defiantly, you tried to wriggle, but the clasp around your waist prevented further movement. “You both are needy little things, hm?” Suo smiled so very sweetly to you, “I said pause. Now be a good girl and try to stay quiet while I teach, alright?” 

The slick between your thighs drooled at the saccharine command. It had subtle authority behind it, numbing your mind to be pliable to his will. You hummed with a nod in response. He made note to reward your good behavior later. Reinforcement was important, after all. 

Suo’s smile now curled into something Cheshire, “Let’s move onto the next lesson.” He shifted, practically lifting you by your waist to a stand in front. Sakura listened, but his eyes traced the trail of wet lines down your thighs. His fingers gripped at the cushion – his own tempered restraint.

“Sakura,” He began, fingers working to remove his slacks, “Before you please yourself, you should be more imaginative with your lover.” Once the slacks were off, he began to unbutton his shirt. “Women more easily orgasm multiple times,” The shirt fell to the crease of the cushions, “so her cumming on your fingers first,” Suo cupped the silk-covered lips between your thighs, the pad of his middle finger pressing onto your throbbing hole. His cock jerked in response, yet he ignored it – leading by example. “Or cumming on your tongue first-” Suo licked a stripe from the line of your panties to your naval, “won’t deter her from cumming on your cock.” From below, his caramel gaze softened on you before another friendly challenge was poised to his student, “I can’t imagine a virgin like yourself lasting too long, so do what you can for her first before you’re spent. Otherwise, it might be someone else satisfying her desires.”

With subtle circles of his middle finger, he massaged you, testing how quiet you could be. Just because he gave a command didn’t mean he’d try for your disobedience. It was natural for him to play with his food before he ate it and you were a luxury dish he’d been waiting years to be seated at. His starved gaze feasted on your frame. Sakura had such a lovely, obedient girl. He wished you could be his to nibble on day in and day out. Jealousy wasn’t exactly the word for what Suo felt. He was happy for Sakura. But maybe... Sakura would let him dine on you while he learned which fork to use for what. Learning curves could take some time and it would be such a shame for you to run cold. 

“Then stop yappin’ and show me,” Sakura practically growled the words. He was willing to learn. He wanted to learn. He’d put all the work in to get to this point and he desperately wanted to see it through – see you through. Suo’s jabs felt no different from a spar. It was exciting to see who would please you best. Obviously Suo had the upper hand now, but later? In a month? Two months? He’d treat you so good that you wouldn’t be able to see straight.

Suo laughed like chimes at his friend’s fervor, “Let’s all get more comfortable, then. Take the boxers off.” While Sakura followed instruction, Suo hooked the crotch of your panties to pull them down. The knuckle of his index purposefully nuzzled across your clit as he did so. Your knees wobbled and your restrained voice broke free, but you stayed steady standing. Suo then took his own boxers off. 

Your shadow obscured his length from your vision, while Sakura’s laid bare in the light of the white static snow. Your tongue slides across your lips at the precum dribbles down the underbelly. He was a lot girthier than you initially thought he'd be, but you were certain you could lick him up and down all the same. Regardless of your fixation, your tutor had other plans. 

Suo shifted on the couch to sit upright. His back rested against the left arm and his right leg bent and propped against the back of it. He faced Sakura and Sakura shifted to mirror his posture on the opposite end. Suo tugged on your writs, “Put your back to my chest, dear.” And so you did. With his guiding hands along the outer sides of your hips, Suo positioned you how he pleased. Your head rested along his pecks, his steady heart beat loud and thumping. The mystery of his size resolved as his cock imprinted into the crease of your glutes, tip leaking pre at the base of your spine. His body was hot against yours. Against your back you could feel how tense his core was. He was restraining himself from moving while making it look natural. Your pussy throbbed at the idea of it – how he wanted to fuck you so bad but wouldn’t just yet. He was a gentleman. 

Drunk on the concept alone, you sway your hips against him, lascivious gaze watching for when he might break. In one short moment, Suo had your limbs restricted. Your right leg, which had been resting against his at the back of the couch, was now held up by the underside of your knee and against your chest. Your left leg was constricted by his and dangled over the edge of the couch. Suo’s left hand cupped, then smacked firmly onto your cunt. The sound sticky and loud over the TV static. He pressed his fingers onto you to sooth the sting. You cried out in both pleasure and pain only to be shushed. 

“You weren’t quiet the whole way through when standing~. Punishing disobedience is also the job of a teacher,” Suo’s voice bounced in delight at your pouting lip, “Did you think I forgot?” You shook your head. “Good girl. Now, be a good doll for a moment while Sakura explores” You nod, eyes wide on Sakura. 

Your breathing mimicked his naturally. The gentle ‘shhhh’ as he breathed out between his teeth. He relaxed his jaw as to not clench it. His shoulders wound back to release the tension there, too. Your smile inviting him over. You kept your hands to yourself, but pat the inside of your thighs to signal for him to come to you. Sakura in that moment thought of you more like seafoam. He feared that if he touched you the wrong way, you’d fizzle out beneath his grasp. Never-the-less, he knelt before you, taking up the cushion space between Suo and your legs. 

Suo nodded approvingly. The hand cupped over your sex moved up. He gave an overview of the parts on the off chance Sakura’s sex education had been lack luster, fingers grazing at each as he spoke. Your rested the back of your head onto his chest and closed your eyes. His voice so close to your ear and delicate touches along the labia majora and minora relaxing you. 

“I implore you to touch for yourself,” Suo chirped, hand now moving to trace shapes on your stomach. 

“S-sure,” Sakura stammered. He pet the trimmed pubic hair, tracing the shape of your labia gently and carefully. The slick that stuck to the curled hairs had him swallowing saliva hard. The veins of his cock pulsed, drawing out precum to drool onto your folds. “You’re so damn p-perfect.” You opened your eyes to look up to wonder-filled irises. He looked as if he’d found the garden of Eden. If you hadn’t been told to be quite, you’d thank him, but seeing you like this was thanks enough to your loving boyfriend. 

“Past this,” Suo interrupted, “is the clit.” His index and ring finger separated your lips, reveal the apple beneath. In anticipation, it pulsed and you bucked. Both men huffed a single laugh in response. Suo in satisfaction and Sakura in admiration. Suo’s middle finger pulled at the hood to reveal the plump nerve. “You have to be gentle with it at first. Too much stimulation and she might not enjoy it. Some people do, though.” He rose his fingers to your mouth and watched as you welcomed them into your maw. Tongue lapped at the digits, hungrily accepting whatever it could. “Oh? Someone has a fixation~ How cute!” Suo teased, swirling his index around your tongue. 

“Mmm,” You respond, eyes trailing the saliva strand that connected you both as his fingers left your lips. At your back was a thick, heavy throb. You wondered how he kept such composure at times like this. He always had a level head. Meanwhile you were swimming in sweet arousal. 

Suo took newly sodden digits to your clit, the tip of his index finger tracing circles around the bud but not yet on it. Your back arcs and a loud whine reverberates in your throat. 

Sakura swallows, bristling at the sounds you made. His hand hovers above you, uncertain about what to do next. Suo chuckles deeply, jostling you against his chest. The fox spreads you open, index and middle finger running down and around your entrance before coming back together to tease over the sensitive maw and bud. You crane into the touch, pitiful in your attempts to get them in. Your walls shiver with every rotation. He’s such a cruel tease! Suo is slow, deliberate, repeating the same motion. Your whines grow in volume and pitch until you’re practically on the verge of tears. 

Your boyfriend tilts his head, mind switching gears. A hand cups your cheek and his focused eyes hone right onto yours, “Breathe, baby. Everythin’s okay. Ya look so fuckin’ perfect  right now, too.” His voice is low, husky, mixed with both sympathy and hot honied lust. His praise urged you on. You gifted him your loveliest smile in return. 

“Check if she’s ready, Sakura~.” Suo instructs, “Gently work a finger in and tell me what you feel.“ His lips rest at the shell of your ear and then he presses a kiss to your temple, muttering just for you to hear, “You’re doing so well, my dear. If he says you’re ready, do you want me to fuck you?” The question was innocuous. You shiver, mind melting away to an unfamiliar space. Dazed, you peer up to him then to Sakura. You nodded, teeth gnawing at your lower lip. Suo stops his caresses, the pads of his fingers resting and pressing into your clit. There was no rub or stroke. It was curious, but the purpose was soon discovered.

Sakura mimicked his teacher, pressing two fingers past your lips. He held his breath, hips swaying to rut into air as your tongue and lips worked his digits. His composure was shot, face aflame and muscles trembling. 

Suo cleared his throat, garnering Sakura’s attention and snapping him back to reality. Right. Attention on you. Another deep breath. His fingers retreat from one maw to the other. He paws at you so delicately at first, uncertain but determined to draw out the same moans as his teacher. At first his pam is down. It’s uncomfortable at first and you scrunch your nose. 

“Palm up,” Suo corrects quickly, noticing your expression, “About two knuckles in and you’ll feel it.” 

When you look up to him, his half-patched gaze is glued to your pussy. His cock pulsates against your ass, body still as tense as it was before. If he even let loose a bit, he’d lose it all. He’s resisting so much. 

Sakura’s obedient shift in position has you gasping. He’s pawing into you and against you gummy wall. Sakura didn’t question what he should be feeling. He felt it as soon as he worked his way into you, just as teacher taught, “Sh-she’s-“ he swallows hard, “drippin’.” 

You press your back into Suo, desperately trying to work your hips to ride Sakura’s calloused hand. Years of hard community work, fighting, and building paying off in the form of  the textured drawl of his digit. 

“Tsk, tsk, not yet.” Suo grips at your waist, his legs pressing against yours to keep you still in their spread. Sakura had stopped his strokes, thick finger left motionless inside you. You whine and pout and throw your head to the side. A laugh came from behind you, “You can keep going, Sakura. She’s being good now. If she tries to fuck your hand again, just stop until she’s still.”

You huff, frustrated. 

Both men shared a look, silently in agreeance to continue. The calico learns through your reactions what strokes work you best. Actually, the reactions of your pussy herself rattles him to the core. She quivers and quakes when he strokes you right, gently prodding the sponge-like tissue inside. You cry out, every fiber of your being trying to keep your body steady. 

If you faltered, Suo held you firm. Suo moved one hand back to press at your clit. It wasn’t overwhelming. It was a pressure to work with Sakura’s quickening pace. Each stroke against your inner wall striking like a lighter while the press against your nerve sparked with kerosine.  You’re moans grew into loud cries. Without the ability to work against Sakura yourself, all of your energy went to your lungs. The neighbors would be bitching in the morning, for sure. 

The violent pull of your muscles was more than you could control as you sprinted toward the edge of the cliff, ready to dive for sweet release. You held your breath, body still writhing as your lower back arched with all its might. Just as you were about to jump – Suo ripped Sakura’s wrist away.

“F-fuck! Why?! No, no, no, no, put it back please! Please? More?” You crane your neck to plead with him, gasps and trembling body pointed to the wrong-doer. 

“What’s the fun in that?” Suo teased with a triumphant grin, “I said it’s easier for women to have multiple orgasms. That doesn’t mean there aren’t alternatives.” 

You pout petulantly, “Please Suo? Sakura? I-I-” 

Just as tears squeezed from the corners of your eyes, Suo lifted you by your thighs. “Since you asked so sweetly,” He angled your trembling frame until you were poised against the absolutely soaked head of his cock, “You wanted me to fuck you, did you not?” His chest began to rise and fall in quickening pace. Your pleaded left him like crackling class, “What if I wanted to feel you cum around me, darling? I’ve been so patient.” He kissed away the tears and turned his attention to Sakura, “Watch and learn, dear student.”

Sakura leaned back, eyes wide at all that transpired. His throat was dry. Yeah. Yeah. He wanted that. It hit him hard, but in that very moment, Sakura realized that he’d never be able to get you to beg and pant and cry like that by himself the first go around. His shy ass would have done everything you wanted and more. He would have gotten you there. He wasgetting you there. But shit, did you look so stunning when you begged. He covered his mouth with his free hand. He leaned into the opposite arm, giving his close friend enough room to fuck his girlfriend how you deserved. 

“Match my pace, Sakura.” Suo’s challenge rang clear and concise, “Perhaps if you last longer than me, I’ll let you have her next.” 

Sakura perked. He spat into his hand, saliva mixing with your slick. Challenge on.  “Pretty sure my stamina’s better than yours, Suo.” 

You gripped Suo’s forearms, the back of your head craned so your lips met Suo’s exposed throat. You needed something, anything, to occupy your mouth as he lowered you onto him. He was long. Much longer than you estimated. His tip split you and your mind drained of any and all thought. He filled you up comfortably, your pussy and his size forming to each other. It was then you realized Suo was losing composure. 

He began to sigh heavy, prettily. He was gaging how far into you he was by the way Sakura fucked his own fist. You’re heavy lidded gaze latched onto your boyfriend, piecing it all together. He started from his tip and slowly slid his hand down, matching it to how deep Suo sank into your greedy cunt. 

Suo began to rock his hips into yours.  At first it was slow. Every time he nearly pulled out only to thrust back into you with such force, you thought he was in your throat. The slapping stick of your sobbing hole against him matched with the smack of Sakura fucking himself. 

The intensity of his duochrome hues burning at your very core. Being able to see him, him able to see you – it was a blessing gifted from whatever deity gifted you all this moment. He was imagining being in Suo’s spot, fucking into you, holding you hostage at the edge. 

The fox bit into your shoulder, no longer caring of Sakura’s matching speed. His thighs beat into yours, cock searing its very shape into you. It reduced you to shuddering, shivering smithereens. A sheen of sweat licked at all your bodies. Your stomach rolled with increasing tension, a string held taught at each end. You held on for as long as you could, really you did. For every heavy thrust up, you bucked. Suo’s head struck at just the right spot. Again. And again. And again. 

It built from your core to your throat to your head, burning you up until you couldn’t see straight through the smoke. Your toes curled and your nails bit into Suo’s arm. He hissed at first only to breathlessly laugh. The sound grounded you. 

Suo bit into your shoulder, eyes now hard on Sakura. He hadn’t cum yet. Impressive. Even more impressive that you hadn’t yet despite your begging for that delectable finish. He was devouring you whole, memorizing your every sound. He’ll dream about the way your pussy felt cinching around him until his death. Suo was a greedy man at heart, despite how much he cared for you both. He wanted you to beg for his approval - to call his name more. He wanted you to remember him through it all. 

Sakura’s thick cock rolled through his fingers. His abs tensed as he withheld his own finish. Like hell he’d lose when you were on the line. You tear-stained lashes, your breasts jostling with each thrust, and not to fucking mention that he could see the curve of Suo’s cock massaging at your belly – it made Sakura wish he had a camera. Porn was nothing compared to this. Seeing you get your guts rocked burned into Sakura’s psyche. 

“F-fuck Suo, you gonna let her cum or what?!” Sakura growled. Their eyes locked and like two apex predators lapping at the same spring, they struck a bargain.

“Pretty girl~” Suo sighed hoarsely, “Do you – h’ah – do you want to cum?” He fucked you hard and steady. His controlled pace held you right where he wanted. With the way you clamped around him so desperately, he knew you were holding it just for him, too. You weren’t in your body anymore anyway. You’d been fucked to purgatory without passage to heaven or hell. Mentally you were fucking them both. Their synchronicity thread the three of you together in both sensation and in spirit. Surreal. It was surreal. 

“My dear,” Suo’s hand moved to your throat, palm resting at the front while his index and thumb gripped your jaw again. He pulled you to look him in the eye, “Do you want to cum or no? I can leave you like just like this if you don’t answer.” 

His threat invaded your headspace, ripping your back to your body and back to clarity. Your legs shook with a violence, your belly and sides and arms trembling as you withheld yourself from orgasm. All you could do was nod as your throat had become sore from sound. 

“Get ready~. Your pace now!” Suo let your boyfriend have a taste of control for desert. 

Now Suo fucked you to Sakura’s increasing pace. Not only did he match pace, but he match ferocity and depth. Your cunt was the same as Sakura’s very fist, linking you to his heavy handed masturbation.

The burn of your muscles, the chill of sweat, the cigarette burn pleasure clawing at your cervix all coalesced. Your toes curled and you pressed Suo’s hand harder to your throat til you felt dizzy. Each pound and pulse of your finishing show worth an eye-rolling encore. Hot and thick, Suo coats your insides. Each pulse of his cock followed by the cinch of your walls in argument. Against your stomach, Sakura painted his own mark. His growling ‘fuck’ a sweet chorus against your mind. 

The three of you panting together, letting the soothing snow of the television calm your nerves. Once you all had caught your breath, Suo grabbed his shirt, ready to catch his cum from seeping out of you and onto the couch as he pulled out. You shuddered, muscles too weak from exertion to even attempt to help. 

“N-now onto aftercare,” The martial artist sucked in air and let it out in a stream, “Could you run the bath? I think our little darling here is too tired to stand.” 

Warning con't. Consult a licensed therapist or psychologist if exposure therapy interests you as there are specific rules and regulations to the practice that a professional will know more than some schmo on tumblr. If done incorrectly, exposure therapy can reinforce and worsen phobias, trauma, and rituals so it is incredibly, incredibly important to seek a professional. Contact your insurance, your pcp, your therapist, whomever you need to refer you to a specialist if you are interested in exposure therapy.

It can be beneficial for PTSD, OCD, anxiety, phobias. Do your research on pubmed as pubmed is a proper and peer reviewed source for any type of medical information. If you need assistance navigating pubmed I would be happy to help as while I do not have a license for therapy nor a Psy.D., I at least have a degree in psych/neuro to know how to find reliable resources. The least I can do is offer help with finding proper peer-reviewed literature.

[celesthysaturn]

Note: Meme, rant, Headcanon Yandere, One shot Yandere

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Even though my obsession with yanderes is just my favorite entertainment in my world of fanfics and ASMR so I can escape the reality where there is no one who loves me intensely and even fantasize my darkest desires without guilt, I'm feeling very stressed about life that I take. I barely sleep or even eat properly besides my precious coffee in the morning ☕ (I lost a lot of weight because of this, which is not normal).

So, deep in my heart, I wonder what it's like to have a yandere in real life who was so obsessed with me that I was his priority and treated my health and well-being as if it were the most precious thing he needed to take care of. .

So, if he sees my current situation, I think he would go crazy 🤭

Dude, I almost passed out at school because I hadn't eaten or slept in days, besides, I study during the day so and I'm still doing an internship, I'm definitely going to end up being admitted. I think he needs to come help me immediately

Do you also feel tired and needy? So here's a Yandere Headcanon for you 🫵

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Paternal/maternal and obsessive yanderes who are shocked when they discover that you are slowly killing yourself (or rather, have stopped taking care of yourself) and see that your mental and physical health is eroding because of the life you have decided to lead

Paternal/maternal and obsessive yanderes who see no other option and now they themselves will have to take care of you for you, and so, they finally decide to kidnap you.

Paternal/maternal and obsessive yanderes will make you completely dependent on them for your new life routine and even your basic needs. This means that they will bathe you themselves, dress you in comfortable and climate-appropriate clothes, cook and feed you in your mouth, make you take medicines and vitamins, take you punctually to medical appointments, blood tests and therapies (or perhaps they will do the exams themselves). Oh! Don't forget the main thing, lots of love and affection even if you refuse ♥️

Paternal/maternal and obsessive yanderes who will suffocate you with lots of affection, kisses and hugs, or at least, will try to demonstrate their great love for you in soft and attentive touches, looks and ears that are totally helpful to what you do and will talk to you every night how special you are to them, how precious you are

Paternal/maternal and obsessive yanderes that after 3 months of extreme care, he finally feels more comfortable letting you do your basic needs alone, but with their supervision, but you will still continue to live with him, you will only be able to leave for a while limited and will not allow you to do something that is not good for your health such as sleeping late, eating a lot of junk, accidentally hurting yourself, walking barefoot, otherwise he will go crazy once again and the whole childcare routine will start all over again

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Everything is so peaceful, my body feels relaxed and fresh as if I had taken a delicious bath and received a massage right after. As I lie in a soft bed, on warm, clean duvets and pillows in a silent, soft environment that smells like chamomile (when was the last time I cleaned my room?), everything made me stay in the position I'm in for hours and with eyes closed to relax in this very pleasant moment, maybe I should even go back to sleep.

For a small moment, I seem to have finally escaped my daily problems and routine, as that infernal alarm clock hasn't gone off yet... wait, where am I?!!!!!!!!

I finally realized why everything is so good...

"Good morning, sweetie. How's my sweetie feeling?" The stranger appeared at the bedroom door, which had been open the entire time, and walked towards me subtly as if approaching a fragile and injured animal. Soon, he sat on the side of the bed I was on and placed one of his warm, wet hands on my forehead.

"Your body temperature is normal, your face looks healthier, and your dark circles are gone. It seems like you rested very well, I feel so relieved!" Giving a sigh of satisfaction, and then he placed a kiss on my forehead with that same hand gently grabbing my chin with his thumb on mine. He kept his loving, soft gaze on me.

"Where am I?" My question was automatic, I didn't know if I remained paralyzed or jumped out of bed to run towards the bedroom door that had been open the whole time, suspecting that he was watching me since I was still sleeping, or was already prepared to attack me. rock when I finally woke up.

It wouldn't do any good anyway, since he would have locked all exit access to the outside and would already be prepared for any attack or kidnapping outbreak.

"You are in my house, or rather in our sweet and cozy home that I have prepared for us for the rest of our lives from now on."

"H-What do you mean? What's this story?"

"It's for your own good, Sweetheart, I couldn't bear to see my baby having such a hard and unfair life on the outside..."

"You should't..."

"No, honey, it's YOU who shouldn't do this to me. I believed that you could be independent and take care of yourself while I finished all the plans for us to have the dream life when we could finally move away from this society and all the tiring life and stressful while I would take care of everything to support and protect our home and you would be my beautiful homely wife and totally spoiled by me." He paused, panting after his harsh speech, and slowly calming down. Now, his welcoming expression now seemed like a frightening and overbearing father/mother. "But after I saw you killing yourself to have a minimally comfortable life, I will have to take this position and you will live the life I prepared for you and me from now on."

So, he got up, walked out of the room and then, within a few seconds, came back with a bowl of soup, glass of water and pills all on a tray. I was too shocked to react.

"Your stomach must be empty after you slept so much and ingested all the sedative I gave you." Sitting once again on the bed, now, even closer as he places the tray carefully on his lap, his right hand taking my cheese again with his thumb on my cheek with a firmer grip and the other hand dipping the spoon into the vegetable soup and lifting it towards me. His loving and welcoming gazes were even more intense.

"Now, my Sweetheart, be obedient and open your mouth ♥️"

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Note: Don’t forget to drink lots of water and get plenty of rest 😉

[brbsoulnomming]

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 27 (final part)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | AO3

rating: explicit

-----

In the morning, Jonathan and Steve and Argyle make breakfast together, and Eddie watches them move around each other kind of bemusedly. He's not sure how, but somehow, it works, and the end result is a spread enough to feed even this hoard.

They trickle out sometime after that, most of them checking on Eddie and Steve one last time. Robin hurries some of them - Dustin and Mike - along, saying Steve has to help Eddie with his physical therapy.

"Wayne's dropping me off at home," she tells them, when it's just her and his uncle waiting in the truck left. "That's my gift to you - you get the weekend to enjoy your physical therapy."

She waggles her eyebrows meaningfully, cackling at them as she leaves.

When it's just them, and the house is utterly silent, they look at each other.

"I'll lock up downstairs," Eddie offers.

"I'll take upstairs," Steve agrees, already running towards it.

Eddie checks the doors and windows, just to be safe, then books it upstairs.

Steve's already sitting on the bed, eyes scanning what looks like Eddie's discharge paperwork.

He looks up when Eddie walks into the room, his expression lighting up in a way that makes Eddie's heart beat a little quicker.

"We need to talk," he blurts out, before he can let himself get distracted by the urge to kiss Steve senseless.

Steve's face falls. "Oh," he says. "Um. Yeah, okay, sure."

"About Jason," Eddie adds hurriedly. "And everything that happened."

"Oh! Right, you're right. Of course." Steve sets the papers aside, scooting up on the bed so Eddie can come sit across from him.

Steve immediately gets his hands on Eddie's knees when he does, leaning into his space. "How are you doing?"

That's not what Eddie meant, but he lets himself think about the question anyway.

"I don't know," he admits. "Can we come back to that?"

Steve makes a face at him. "That won't work forever," he warns him.

"I know," Eddie says. "Does it help if I say this time, at least I knew I wasn't alone?"

Steve considers that. "Does it help you?"

"Yeah," Eddie says slowly. "Before - when I was in the boathouse, or on the lake, or in the woods alone, or even in the Upside Down, there was a lot of times that I thought for sure I was going to die. But last night? I believed I'd be okay. I knew you were there, I knew you all had my back."

"We always will," Steve promises, tipping his head to kiss him.

"That's the other thing we need to talk about," Eddie says. "You always being so ready to be the one to take the hits."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Why does everyone keep bringing that up? I'm not trying to get hurt."

"You still do, though," Eddie points out. "Every time. You think we don't worry about you? Look, if you can look me in the eye and tell me it's a hundred percent not because you think you're worth less than the rest of the party, or that you're only as good as what you can do for them, then I'll drop it."

Steve's jaw tightens, throat working as he swallows.

"Thought so," Eddie says when Steve's been silent for a while.

"I don't exactly think I'm worth less," Steve says.

Eddie waits, but there's no lie, so he relaxes a little.

"But I guess I do think this is what I'm good for," Steve continues. "This is how I can help them."

"Stevie," Eddie whispers, his heart breaking a little. "There's so much more to you than just that, okay? You're more than that to them. To us."

He knows that Joyce said it last night, and he's pretty sure that Robin must have told him it at least a dozen times, but he's also pretty sure that Steve needs to hear it as much as possible.

Steve gives him a bittersweet little smile. "What else am I supposed to do, Eds, sit on the sidelines? Let one of the kids get hurt instead?"

"That's not - okay, look, I'm not going to ask you to stop. No when it's for the kids, and not when we all make plans for Vecna. I get it, I do," Eddie says. "But I don't want you to do it for me."

"Like you weren't going to do the same thing when Jason had the gun pointed at you," Steve says.

Which -

"Okay, fair," Eddie concedes. "But if I don't like it when you do it for me, and you don't like it when I do it for you, where does that leave us?"

Steve frowns. "I don't know. I guess - I guess we work as a team?"

Eddie scrubs a hand over his face. "We did okay once we actually got on the same page?"

Steve drums his fingers on his knee. "I think this is a conversation we need to have with Robin here," he admits.

"Good call," Eddie agrees.

Steve's quiet for a moment. "But I hear you, okay? I do. I know you and Robin don't like it. Like I told her, I - I'll think about both of you before I do anything."

And that -

Yeah, actually, he thinks that's all he needs right now.

"But you have to do the same," Steve adds. "No more like what you did with the demobats."

Unlike when he promised Dustin he wouldn't do that again, he actually thinks it through this time.

"If it's Dustin or me," he says slowly. "It's going to have to be me."

Steve looks at him pointedly, and Eddie winces.

"Right, I know, it's the same for you. But I-" Eddie cuts off, trying to figure out how to say this and be honest without being too vulnerable.

"Eds," Steve murmurs, thumbs rubbing over the inside of his knees.

Right. It's Steve, his soulmate. He can be vulnerable. More than that - he thinks he needs to be vulnerable.

"I wanted to be brave," he admits. "I didn't want to run anymore. I know you don't think I had anything to prove, but I thought I did."

"What about now?" Steve asks.

"I don't know," Eddie says. "I don't think I'm an NPC anymore. But this is - I'm not like you guys, I don't know what I'll do next time. If I'll run again."

Steve frowns. "What's an NPC?"

Eddie huffs out a hollow little laugh. "Non-player character. It's the side characters in a D&D campaign, the ones that no one actually plays, they're just there to facilitate the story and then disappear."

Steve's face smooths out into understanding, and he leans in to kiss him, just the softest brush of their lips together. "Yeah," he says when he pulls back. "I figured you felt like you weren't really one of us, and that you weren't going to make it. But you don't anymore?"

"No," Eddie says. "I don't really know what to do with it, but I know this is it. This is where I want to be. You, uh. You're it for me, too, Stevie."

He'd already accidently fessed up to overhearing Steve and Robin's conversation, after all, so he might as well go all in.

Steve huffs out a little laugh, kissing him again. "I love you."

"Love you, too," Eddie whispers. Then he pulls back, arching one eyebrow. "So how about that physical therapy?"

Steve pulls Eddie's discharge paperwork back out.

"Wait, you - you actually wanted to do the stupid stretches? I thought that was a euphemism!" Eddie says, disappointed.

Steve bumps their knees together. "If you don't stretch out that leg first, you're going to cramp up in the middle of something you really don't want to be cramping up in."

"Oh. Oh! Okay, I'll take it." Eddie flops onto his back on the bed, legs sprawled out. "Okay, Stevie, you're the jock here. Get me stretched out."

Steve laughs, scooting over to get his hands on Eddie's leg. He spreads the paperwork out next to him, looking at it for a moment before he dives right into it.

Eddie lets out a surprised grunt as Steve maneuvers his leg, one hand cupping his knee and the other on his thigh. He can feel it deep in his hip as it rotates nice and slow, can feel the stretch of his thigh, but no there's no sharp pains like he might have expected.

"Tell me if it hurts," Steve says, glancing back at the paper and then moving him again.

The diagrams hadn't been all that helpful when Eddie'd looked, and he'd figured he'd have to actually read through the written instructions a few more times to make any kind of sense of them. But Steve moves his leg around easy as anything, his guiding hands gentle and firm and every movement nice and fluid.

Eddie props himself up on his elbow so he can get a better look at Steve. "You're pretty good at this. Hey, I bet you'd make a good physical therapist."

Steve hums noncommittally.

"No?" Eddie asks.

"I mean, sure, maybe, one day. For now? I might get the Family Video job back, or somewhere else around town that's still open, but until Vecna's down for good, my full time job's gonna be - what'd you call it? Being a paladin."

Eddie can't exactly refute that, but shit, everything about that statement sucks.

Well, almost everything.

"You know, I can see the barbarian side of you, too," Eddie teases.

Steve rolls his eyes. "Fine, full time paladin, part time barbarian."

Eddie snickers. "You're already multiclassing."

Steve scoffs, but his expression is unbelievably fond. "I can't believe how into it I am when you're being a giant nerd, it's pretty embarrassing."

It makes Eddie's insides go all warm and gooey, Steve looking at him like that, and yet -

"You are, though, right? Into it?" he finds himself asking.

"Eds," Steve murmurs, leaning in closer. "I'm into everything about you. It's you."

Eddie tries to just accept it. It's clearly not a lie, but something about the way Steve says it like it should be obvious makes him hunch in on himself a little.

"Right, who wouldn't be into a nerdy, virgin, drug dealing super super senior?"

Steve frowns, pulling back to look at him. There's a scrunch between his brows that says he's thinking hard about something, and Eddie wants so bad to reach out to smooth it out.

Wait.

Now he can.

Eddie presses his thumb to the little spot, rubbing it like he's rubbing away whatever Steve's thinking about that's making him make that face.

Steve huffs out a laugh, batting his hand away. "All right, let's look at this," he says, rocking back on his heels and holding up one finger.

"First - in case you haven't noticed, all of my friends are huge nerds, man. I'm kind of a nerd, I just look like much less of one compared to all of you. Second -" Steve puts up another finger. "All right, I'm not super thrilled about the drug dealing when it comes to the harder stuff, but you did what you had to, and I'd be a huge hypocrite if I complained about the weed. Third - it's high school. Weren't you the one who said it feels like it's a lot less important now in the face of everything else?"

"That's different," Eddie mutters, feeling a little bit overwhelmed. He's not used to having someone systematically refute almost all of his points about himself like that, and he doesn't know what to do with it other than focus on the one it feels like Steve doesn't understand. "That was social conformity, this is - this is fucking graduating, man."

He's not sure what he'd do if Steve brushed it off again. Fortunately, Steve just shifts a little, laying down on his side next to him.

"Will you tell me?" Steve asks.

Eddie turns to face him more, hand coming up to fiddle with the hem of Steve's shirt. "My dad never graduated," he says finally. "Dropped out after junior year when they told him that it wasn't looking good for him to be able to graduate, said there were bigger and better things out there than high school, anyway. I don't want to be like him, I don't want to give up."

Steve brushes his hair back, tucking it behind his ear. "You fought Vecna with us. You stuck with us, even now. You decided to work with me on making our bond romantic even when you thought Robin and I were together. You aren't the give up type, Eddie, and if graduating is important to you, then it's important to me, too. I know you can do it."

Eddie slips his hand under Steve's shirt, thumb rubbing over his waist. "Yeah? You gonna cheer for me at graduation?"

Steve quirks a little grin. "I'll yell for you and Robs so loud you'll hear me over everyone else."

Eddie kisses him.

"Noticed you didn't say anything about the virgin thing," he jokes when they break for air.

Eddie doesn't actually think that's an issue for Steve, not after how he'd reacted when Eddie first told him, but when Steve doesn't say anything, it makes him frown a little.

"Steve?" he asks, pulling back to look at him.

"It's not like that's going to be true much longer," Steve points out, but there's something about the way he says it that makes Eddie narrow his eyes at him.

"Steve Harrington," Eddie drawls, delighted. "Is that a thing for you? Do you have a virgin thing?"

"I don't have a-" Steve starts to protest, then amends it to, "I don't exactly have a virgin thing."

"Oh, but you have a sort of virgin thing?" Eddie teases. "You're into it, aren't you, popping cherries?"

Steve shoves him as Eddie cackles, and before long Steve's giving a little snort of laughter too.

"Shut up," Steve says. "I just - I like being able to make someone's first experience a good one, okay? I like that someone's trusted me enough to be their first time. And - maybe I really like the idea of being that for you."

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, his voice softening a little. "You gonna make it good for me, Stevie?"

Steve props himself up so he can lean over Eddie, dropping a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "You gonna let me?" he asks, just as soft.

Eddie swallows. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll let you."

Steve hums in response, kissing along the line of his jaw.

Eddie grunts when Steve bites him just under the edge of his jaw, his hips bucking up involuntarily at the sensation of Steve's tongue soothing over the sting from his teeth.

His hands push under Steve's shirt, fingertips scratching through the hair over his stomach as he pushes the fabric up.

"Off," he mutters, tugging insistently, until Steve finally pulls away from his neck to strip off his shirt.

Eddie groans, finally getting to openly stare at him the way he couldn't do the last time Steve was shirtless. He reaches out eagerly, palms sweeping up Steve's ribs before he pushes his fingers through the fucking lush mat of hair on his chest.

Steve grunts as Eddie skims over some of his soulmate words, eyes going wide. "Fuck."

"Right?" Eddie agrees, sliding one hand back down to do it again.

Steve shoves his own hands under Eddie's shirt, manhandling him a little to get him sitting up enough that he can pull it off.

Eddie's dick twitches, practically straining against his jeans - yup, Jesus Christ, confirmed that is definitely a thing for him.

When it's Steve, at least.

He expects Steve to get his hands on him, the way Eddie's still stroking possessively over Steve's chest, but instead Steve dips down and gets his mouth on his collarbone, sucking a mark into his skin.

Eddie makes a choked off sound, something between a moan and a curse.

"That okay?" Steve asks quietly.

One of Eddie's hands abandons Steve's chest so he can push it into his hair instead, tangling in the soft strands so he can hold him right where he is.

"So fucking okay," Eddie says.

Steve huffs out a little laugh, the puff of warm air against his collarbone sending a little shiver down Eddie's spine.

He doesn't dive back in immediately, though, leaving Eddie squirming and arching his hips up.

"What're you waiting for?" he demands.

"Looking for something," Steve replies.

Before Eddie can ask what, Steve dives back in, tongue dragging a line over his sternum.

Right where Eddie knows it says I don't think you're brave.

If Eddie thought it was overwhelming before, having Steve's hands on his words, it's got nothing on his tongue. The wet heat against his chest seems to have a direct line to his dick, and when Steve's lips brush over another line of words on his stomach, he feels it fucking everywhere.

Eddie's not entirely sure how, but somehow, they manage to get both of their jeans and underwear shoved down and tossed aside.

There's so much fucking bare skin, and Eddie's greedy for it, reaching out and touching anything he can reach as Steve practically makes out with every bit of soulmate ink he can find.

Eddie throws his head back as Steve sinks lower, tongue carefully tracing one of raised red lines of his mostly healed bite marks without quite touching it, teeth grazing along one of the bisected words instead.

His hands tangle in Steve's hair again, grip a little harder than he means to - but Steve gives this punched out moan, and fuck, okay, Eddie's going to assume a little hair tugging is on the table.

Steve finds the words on the inside of Eddie's thigh, the ones that say I don't care about my soulmate, too, and I won't do anything to keep them safe, and if Steve's hands weren't on his hips, Eddie's pretty sure he would have hit Steve in the face with how hard he bucks up when Steve bites him there.

"Steve," he manages to get out. "Steve, I'm gonna-"

"Yeah," Steve says, getting one hand around his cock and stroking over him. "Come on, Eds."

His grip on Steve's hair tightens so much it has to hurt when he comes, spilling all over Steve's hand and his own stomach with a strangled shout. Steve strokes him through it, like he's trying to get every last bit of sensation out of him that he can.

Eddie's panting harshly when Steve finally lets go, and his hands slip out of Steve's hair as Steve pulls back to sit up.

His brain is practically mush, and he's not sure he can even feel all of his limbs, let alone move them, but he still makes a greedy little noise when Steve rocks back on his heels and Eddie gets his first good look at his cock.

"Gimme," Eddie mutters, hands twitching as he tries to reach for it.

Steve laughs softly. "Next time," he says.

Instead, he takes one of Eddie's hands in his, lacing their fingers together. With his other hand, Steve jerks himself off, stroking quick and rough, and Eddie's fucking mesmerized by the sight.

It doesn't take long for Steve to come, too, and Eddie's feeling pretty fantastic about that. Steve is so fucking beautiful when he comes that Eddie's spent dick gives a little jolt, and he wonders how quick Steve could be ready for that next time.

Steve drops down next to him when he's finished, and they press together as close as possible, trading kisses that are more like panting into each other's mouths than anything else.

"I love you," he murmurs in Steve's ear, when he's finally got enough breath left to speak.

Steve holds him closer, burying his face in Eddie's neck. "Love you," he returns.

They lay like that for a long time, as Eddie slowly feels his heart start to calm down - as it sinks in that this is fucking real.

"You okay?" Steve asks after a while, voice soft.

"I'm fucking fantastic," Eddie replies.

Steve hums happily, finally tipping his head up so he can kiss him. "That was a first for me, too, you know," he admits quietly.

Eddie smiles. "First boy Steve Harrington ever slept with, that's a pretty good achievement."

Steve rolls his eyes. "First and last," he points out, which -

Hmm.

Okay, apparently that might be kind of a thing for Eddie, too.

"Ruined you for all other men, didn't I?" Eddie asks smugly.

Steve snorts, pinching his side.

Eddie just grins at him, wide and gleeful, until Steve huffs out a little laugh and kisses him again.

"You're lucky I really like seeing you like this," Steve retorts.

"What, all fucked out?" Eddie asks.

"Nah. Like seeing you happy."

Oh.

"Stevie," he murmurs, gently pushing his fingers through Steve's hair.

Steve tilts his head into his hand for a moment. Then he smirks. "Besides, that wasn't anywhere close to what I plan to do to get you all fucked out."

Eddie's dick twitches again.

"So, uh. How soon can we have that next time?" he asks.

Steve grins at him. "Lunch first, then round two?"

"Hell yes," Eddie agrees.

It's going to be a fucking fantastic weekend.

—

Robin Buckley and Nancy Wheeler graduate with the rest of their class that year.

And this time, finally, so does Eddie Munson.

Graduation doesn't happen until July, with all the delays, but Eddie is right there among the class of '86, wearing Steve's jeans and one of his uncle's button ups and all of his rings and chains under his cap and gown.

Robin's name gets called first, and Eddie joins the near deafening roar that comes from all of the people cheering her in the bleachers. He can faintly hear Steve shouting "That's my girl!" over everyone else, but Eddie's not sure if that's because Steve's actually louder than all of them or because he's listening out for Steve more.

When it's Eddie's turn - he honestly doesn't know what to expect. It might be dramatic of him, but he wouldn't be all that surprised if he got tomatoes thrown at him.

What he gets, though, is a roar just as deafening and a fucking standing ovation from two rows of the bleachers. He can hear his uncle shouting "That's my son!", a whoop that sounds like a battle cry coming from the party, and Steve damn near screaming, "That's my boy!"

Eddie can't resist throwing out a pair of devil horns after he takes his diploma.

Vecna is still out there, and Hawkins is still a shithole, and Eddie still doesn't have any more of an idea of what his future holds than he did when he was still in high school.

But he's got two soulmates, and a boyfriend, and a family big enough to fill two rows of the bleachers, and as long as he's got them by his side?

They can handle anything that comes for them.

-----

And we have officially reached the end! I do have a little bit more planned in this verse eventually - a couple of B side things and some prequels from Steve's POV, and a one shot of the campaign they all agreed to play, but for now, this is completed.

I wanted to give a huge thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, and commented! The response to this honestly astounded me a little, and I wouldn't have been so motivated to finish this without reading everyone's comments and tags in their reblogs. Thank you all so, so much, and a massive thank you to the Steddie fandom in general!! I'm definitely not done with this pairing, and I hope to have more done for them soon.

Tag list: @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

[elvensorceress]

fuck it friday tagged by @exhuastedpigeon @loveyouanyway @hippolotamus @wikiangela @daffi-990 @theotherbuckley @tizniz @diazsdimples💕 tagging if you want to share anything! @eddiebabygirldiaz @rogerzsteven @eddiediaaz @ronordmann @eddiiediaz @shortsighted-owl @spotsandsocks @disasterbuckdiaz @giddyupbuck @hoodie-buck @sibylsleaves @monsterrae1 @wh0re-behavi0r @confetti-cupcake @evanbegins @loveyourownsmiilee @epicbuddieficrecs @stagefoureddiediaz 💕 more Unless finale 💕😘

When Buck goes into the house, he finds Eddie in the kitchen at the little desk in the corner. Which means he’s probably working on a grocery list. Or he has some kind of therapy journaling assignment that he hates and rips up and throws away upon completion. But he still does it. 

The afternoon sunlight falls over him and casts him in bright warmth and his pretty hair is tied back in a low ponytail but there are always a few shorter pieces that fall out around his face and Buck itches to smooth them back, not so Eddie is neat and tidy but just because Buck needs to touch him.

Even now, when Buck comes up behind him and rests gentle hands on Eddie’s shoulders, he can’t help running a hand over Eddie’s head just to feel his thick, silken hair. Eddie instantly melts. He makes a soft sound and leans into Buck’s touch, and Buck has to bend down and kiss the slope of his neck. He can’t do anything else. 

Eddie reaches up and rests a hand on the side of Buck’s face, like he needs to keep him close, like he needs to keep Buck forever. 

When has anyone ever wanted to keep him? 

Buck wraps his arms around Eddie’s chest and nuzzles further into his neck until Eddie shivers and chuckles. He’s ticklish there. He’d never admit it, but he’s so ticklish around his neck and shoulders. 

But this time, Eddie just nuzzles back and presses his cheek against Buck’s. “Hey, baby. How was therapy?”

Buck sags a little and groans and just wants to curl up in bed while naked and wrapped around his beautiful, loving partner. 

“That good, huh?” Eddie holds onto Buck’s arms, keeping them, keeping them, and turns his head until he can kiss Buck’s cheek. 

It’s soft and warm and it feels like unending, beloved, unwavering, cherished, forever.

How can anything feel like that?

How can Eddie’s love not feel like that? It’s always felt like a far-off, fantastical dream that was way too good to be real. 

But somehow it’s real? 

Buck sort of lets go, enough so he returns to standing instead of bending over and aggravating his 30+ year old back that sometimes makes him feel 60+ years old. Probably has something to do with motorcycle crashes, car crashes, bad falls out of trees and off ladders and down stairs, and maybe even being hit with tsunami waves. Because those don’t feel great. Not very good for anyone’s spinal health. 

He still keeps Eddie close. Eddie needs to be kept, too. “I brought dinner home. And beer. Some of that dark, bitter-chocolatey Mexican modelo that I think we tried a couple months ago? I’ve been thinking about it since then and I know you loved it. Oh! And I got you a fancy coffee.”

Eddie looks up at him, still with his hands resting on top of Buck’s. “Is there a special reason for fancy coffee and beer and takeout?”

Buck probably blushes. He does that a lot. His face heats and turns pink because he always looks a little flushed. At least around Eddie. If Hen and Chim are to be believed. “Well. Technically? I just wanted to. But as of tomorrow, we’ll have been together for a whole month. That’s something a-a little special, right?”

Eddie squeezes Buck’s hands and does that thing where he bites his lip because he’s trying not to smile and trying not to give too much away. “There might be a mixed berry cheesecake cooling in the freezer right now. That’s what I did while you were out. But it was for tomorrow. I have a whole dinner I’m going to cook for you. So, you have to be surprised.”

Buck’s mouth falls open. His lip quivers and his eyes well up without him even having a say in the matter. Surprised does not even cover it. “R-really? You— you made cheesecake? Berry cheesecake? And you’re going to make me dinner?” Not that they don’t cook for each other or make food for each other basically every day, almost every meal. But. This sounds different. Like an actual one month anniversary celebration. 

Which— okay, Buck wanted to do something. He’s always wanted to do something like celebrate every anniversary possible with someone. But that wouldn’t have happened with Abby, and didn’t happen with Ali, and when Buck cooked for Taylor, she didn’t like it, didn’t really eat it, and didn’t know that’s what it was for though he even got her a small bouquet of flowers but she left it at his loft instead of taking it with her when she went back to her place after getting what she really wanted from Buck that night. And Buck figured it was a dumb thing to want to celebrate anyway because it’s only one month. Four weeks. It’s not anything. 

But Eddie made him cheesecake. With berries. Buck loves berries. And Eddie has plans to make him dinner, and Buck knows it will be amazing and special because Eddie is amazing and special. And how is this really real? How do they actually have this? 

Eddie pushes his chair back and stands until he can slide his arms under Buck’s jacket and around his waist and bring their bodies together. “Of course I’m going to make you dinner. I love you. I love being with you. Maybe it’s just a month. But… It’s been the best month of my whole life.” 

How the hell is Buck not supposed to cry? How is that supposed to happen? He drapes his arms over Eddie’s shoulders and hugs him close. And then changes his mind and leans back until he can find Eddie’s mouth with his own and kiss him with all the thundering waves surging in his chest. Eddie meets and matches every one with equal intensity. 

“I love you, too,” Buck tells him, but has to kiss him more and more and tell him every time he breathes and any second doesn’t have his lips smushed against Eddie’s, “I love you so much. I love you, I love you.”

Eddie laughs breathlessly and clutches Buck close, and it’s the best, most wonderful sound imaginable. Eddie so happy it takes his breath away.  

And how can anything be this perfect? How can Buck worry about anything when they have this. 

Nothing else even matters. 

[wordsarelife]

reader needs to get her bloodwork done and she's scared to go alone, so when lockwood sees that something bothers her she asks him to go with her? with prompts 10 and 11 pretty please? 💌🎀💕

—i think he knows

pairing: anthony lockwood x fem!reader

summary: reader has to admit her true feelings for lockwood after her heartbeat goes through the roof at his touch

warnings: mentions of blood and vomiting

note: i extended it a bit, i just can't help it, hope that was alright :)

prompts: in bold

you were sitting on the couch in portland row, your book laying on your legs, as your fingers hammered an unsteady rhythm onto the surface.

you tried concentrating on the words you were reading, you really did, but the nerves held you in a chokehold.

“okay” lockwood, who was sitting in his usual seat, closed the magazine he had been reading “what is bothering you?”

“nothing” you muttered, hiding from his eyes.

he stood up and sat down next to you. “well, it must be something” he took your book from you legs and pointed at the little folded corner. “you started reading twenty minutes ago and haven’t even turned the page”

there was nothing you could say against that. you hadn’t even noticed it had been that long, different thoughts ghosting through your mind

“okay” you finally breathed “but it’s embarrassing”

“it’s just me, you can tell me” he encouraged you smiling. you smiled back at him and nodded

“i have to get my blood work done later today and i’m - i’m scared”

“that’s not even embarrassing” lockwood smiled “a lot of people can’t see blood”

“yeah” you shrugged “but it’s so much worse. when i see blood, i have to throw up, the smell- it’s just overwhelming”

“you can smell blood?”

“you can’t?”

he shrugged “at least that explains why you always look so disgusted when i had a wound from the job, i had feared it was my face”

“it’s not your face” you grinned, shaking your head “it’s just so disgusting”

“the blood, right?” lockwood laughed

“yeah” you smiled “would you mind coming with me? i think that would help a lot”

“as long as you don’t throw up all over me, i’m willing to sit beside you and hold your hand”

“thank you” you smiled and squeezed his hand

“if it helps you can look at my face while it’s happening”

“as long as you don’t suddenly bleed in that area, that would be amazing”

“i’ll try my best” he laughed and stood up, collecting his coat from off the couch

“hey, lockwood?”

“yeah?”

“thank you for noticing, i might’ve not told you otherwise”

“of course. you know that i care about you, right?”

“i care about you too. and if you ever need something, please let me know”

“i could use some help with cleaning blood off my face after jobs”

“yeah, not happening” you slapped his arm and walked out of the room to grab your coat. lockwood followed you

“i heard confrontation was the best therapy, we could start with your eyes closed and slowly open them bit for bit”

“i’m not cleaning blood off your face, lockwood”

“but lucy won’t do it either”

“wonder why”

lockwood laughed and followed you outside, closing the door behind you both

“how about hypnosis?”

you threw him a deadpanned look.

“alright i get it, not happening”

you just rolled your eyes and laughed, totally having forgotten how nervous you were.

Lockwood was sitting right next to you, when the nurse began to get you ready.

"how are you feeling?" he asked softly, you send him a look that told him everything he needed to know. "okay" he breathed, laughing

"this thing" the nurse held up a little device "will measure your pulse and it will make a sound if it's too high, or too low" she connected the device and it began to beep slowly. calming you down, as you noticed how relaxed your heart was beating.

the next thing you knew, the procedure had started. you took a quick look to the right, but quickly looked back at Lockwood, scrunching your face in disgust.

Lockwood smiled at the funny face you were doing, before his hand took yours. surprise entered your face and you stopped concentrating on your blood and the smell of it and rather on him.

the device began to beep quicker.

"everything, alright?" the nurse asked from beside you

"yeah" you looked at the friendly woman and your heartbeat calmed, then your eyes returned back to Lockwood and it picked up it's pace.

"that is weird" the woman watched the device closely

"maybe it's broken?" Lockwood suggested, squeezing your hand in comfort. your heartbeat picked up again. the nurse raised her eyes to look at the boy, then back at you.

"oh, that's a rather common disease" she laughed

"oh?" you repeated scared "am i gonna die?"

"no" she shook her head, still laughing

you looked at Anthony in confusion. he was smiling and you didn't understand a thing.

"Lockwood?" you asked scared "what is wrong with me?"

now Lockwood had to laugh too, him and the nurse syncing. "nothing, love, absolutely nothing is wrong with you"

"i suggest that for the rest of the procedure, you two let go of each other. keep your eyes on me, ms l/n"

"s-sure" you said, still confused

"this really never happened before" the nurse smiled in Lockwood's direction. "don't look at him" she scolded, as your eyes were ready to wander back to his form "look at me, dear"

"why are you laughing?" Lockwood walked next to you on the way back home, and he was giggling and nearly jumping in the air from excitement. "what did she mean, earlier?"

Lockwood stopped walking and looked at you "you don't know?"

"obviously i don't"

"oh, okay" he breathed "well. i think she suggested that your heartbeat picked up, anytime i touched you or you looked at me"

"bullshit" you shook your head "why would it? it's not like i'm scared of you"

"yeah, that's not quite the word i would use either" he stepped closer, pointing at your wrist "may i?"

you shrugged your shoulders, unsure what he would do next. "go ahead"

his hand went to your wrist and rested on your pulse. then his other hand pulled a strand of hair behind your ear. you could feel your pulse pick up and so could he, because now he was smiling, like he had just proven a theory.

he thought for a second, before his hand wandered to your cheek, softly stroking it. your heartbeat picked up even more. his eyes fell to your lips. he stepped forward and planted a featherlight kiss onto them.

he jumped back. "whoa" he laughed "felt like your heart was exploding"

you looked at him with big eyes, still shocked at what just happened. then you got an idea. your eyes wandered to his wrist and you pointed at it. "may i?" you asked and Lockwood nodded

you softly took his wrist and your fingers immediately found his pulse. it was beating steady, nothing out of the ordinary. your other hand landed on his chest and his pulse picked up, with every movement you did, his pulse got faster. your hand softly wandered up his chest, before it went to his shoulder. you caressed his cheek for a moment and then went to grab his hair in the nap of his neck. his pulse felt like it was exploding, you weren't even sure if it was healthy to be this fast.

your hand, which had found a steady position in his neck, quickly pushed him forward, until your lips crushed together in hunger. you forget to keep your hand at his wrist. it joined your other one and both of them were roaming his hair.

both his hands went to your waist. you breathed each other in like air, as if only a kiss could save you. his tongue entered your mouth. your knees almost buckled from the effect that had on you, but he held you steady.

after a while you broke the kiss, both laughing.

"that was amazing" you smiled

"and rather unsafe considering your heart nearly beat out of your chest when i kissed you the first time" Lockwood noted "you heart nearly exploded when i touched your neck, before i even kissed you, mister" you scolded laughing

"that's just the effect you have on me" he shrugged smiling

"let's go home?" you asked and he nodded.

"so how do you feel about me exactly?" Lockwood smiled smugly

"i ain't gotta tell you, i think you know" you plastered a longing kiss on his mouth, before you took his hand, nearly skipping down the street from pure happiness.

[pimosworld]

Unrequited

Pairing-Santiago Garcia x f!reader x Frankie Morales

Series Summary-Francisco was always afraid of settling down. He left Santiago to pick up the pieces after Colombia and now someone else is taking his place. Now he must cope with repairing the past without disrupting his future.

CW-18+,MDNI,Angst, Fluff, hurt/comfort, Frankie has a lot of apologies to hand out, lots of food references, fun game of poker and a revelation, more apologies and a proposition.

WC-5.9k

A/N- Happy Frankie Friday, our boy is still going through it a bit but that’s to be expected when you ghost your friends for three years. At least he has Benny for some comedic relief.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter II Pining

  verb

gerund or present participle: pining

suffer a mental and physical decline, especially because of a broken heart.

  You stretch your sore muscles as best you can with the human weight that is Santiago pressed against you, his arm holding you close even in sleep. You knew he was getting better and that he was starting to get over it but Frankie’s sudden appearance is causing a relapse in his behavior. 

  The mornings you got out of bed before him or took too long to tell him you were running late from work would be met with his frantic state of mind. Always afraid of being abandoned again, left without a word or goodbye. You assured him as much as you could that you would never do something like that. Months of convincing him to go to counseling was met with short words and utterings of I don’t have a problem. It wasn’t until he’d awoken to you crying and scared one night that he was yelling in his sleep that you were going to leave him that he finally caved and went. 

  Therapy helped tremendously but you can’t blame him after the harsh words that were spoken last night that he thinks you couldn’t hear. Venomous words spoken between ex lovers, hurt people hurt people. 

  So you lay here a little longer, waiting for him to stir awake so he doesn’t think you left him. You rub your legs together easing the sore ache from the previous night, trying to ignore your full bladder. 

  You can feel his lips on the back of your neck, slowly making their way down leaving goosebumps in their wake.

  “Good morning baby, how’d you sleep?” He doesn’t answer with words, just hums as he grinds his hips into you. Avoiding the question that you already know the answer to. His hand slides over your stomach, dipping lower before you gently grab his wrist pulling it to your lips as you turn to face him. “As much as I would love to do that again, I really need to pee.”

  “Why didn’t you get up?” His sleepy voice cracks a little as he dips his head to kiss your neck. Your nails scratch at his scalp as you card through his salt and pepper curls. You tug on them eliciting a groan from him as he meets your eyes. You trace your thumb along the stubble of his jaw, memorizing every line and scar that you may have missed the last time you looked at him. He’s so distractingly handsome that you almost forgot he asked you a question. One that he already knows the answer to. 

  “I wanted to wait until you were awake.” You give him a wary smile almost ashamed to admit it, not wanting him to feel bad. 

  His face drops and he wraps his arms around you, rolling you on top of him until you’re almost falling out of the bed, forced to plant your feet on the cold hardwood floor. He whistles low as you pad to the bathroom, trying not to feel flustered knowing he’s checking you out. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been, he always makes you feel giddy. 

  When you exit the bathroom he’s propped up on one elbow holding the blanket up so you can join him in the warm confines of your bed. He shudders as your cold hands roam up his toned chest and wrap around his neck. 

  “You can’t be getting a uti because you’re afraid to wake me up cariño.” He half mumbles into your hair. 

  You sigh deeply. “I know…I just didn’t want you to wake up and not find me there.” 

  He kisses your forehead lingering briefly before speaking. “I know you’re worried about me with Frankie being here but I promise I’m okay.” He even thinks he sounds unsure of himself as he says it. 

  “I know you’re not okay and that’s fine, you just have to remember you’re not doing this alone.” 

  You’re an enigma, he thinks. How you manage to find the good in all situations. You’re the glass half full to his half empty. He was surviving before he met you and that was fine but he can’t go back to just surviving now that he knows what it’s like to be thriving. 

  “What did I do to deserve you?” He slides his hands up your back massaging and kneading the stress out of you. 

  “Mmmm…you’ve had your fair share of things you did to deserve being taken care of.” His stomach grumbles and you both chuckle. “Speaking of that…do you want me to make breakfast?” 

  “If I ever say no to your food I want you to shoot me.” 

  ****

  Frankie didn’t want to get out of bed, the exhaustion had fully settled in and he quickly realized how long it’s been since he actually rested. Constantly trying to stay busy to keep from actually feeling something. The conversation with Santiago had gone in the complete opposite direction he had hoped but he only had himself to blame. He didn’t expect to just waltz back into his life like nothing had happened but you being here was an unexpected surprise and most certainly changed his approach. 

  He’d never slept in the guest room so it went unnoticed at how beautiful the morning sun looked peaking through the curtains. The orange Santiago had insisted on painting one accent wall compliments it perfectly. It wasn’t until they bought this house that Frankie realized how much Santi cared about interior design. He wanted to tease him about it but opted not to when he saw how relaxed he was deciding on paint colors and furniture. 

  It’s an odd feeling washing over him as the smell of butter and cinnamon infiltrates his senses. It’s been too long since he’s awoken to the smell of anything other than stale cigarettes and last night's leftovers. He’s kicking the blankets off before he can register and rummaging through his bag for a pair of sweats. He can hear some soft singing coming from the kitchen as he makes his way down the hall. The smell is getting stronger as his stomach rumbles and Santiago comes into view, leaning back in the chair at the kitchen island as he not so subtly watches you retrieve the mystery item from the oven. 

  The man was always a perv when it came to checking him out and it seems nothing has changed. He can’t really blame him as he takes in your appearance. Another one of Santiago’s shirts adorning your frame and some of the shortest shorts he’s ever seen just barely covering your ass. 

  “Nice of you to join us.” Santi’s arms are crossed with a slight smirk at catching Frankie ogling you. 

  “Morning Francisco!” You’re beaming as you wipe your hands on a spare towel and begin to plate what he now sees to be biscuits. “I hope you’re hungry, I made cheddar honey biscuits, bacon and I’m about to start the eggs.” As if you couldn’t get any more perfect. 

  Santi gestures to the seat next to him and Frankie pulls out the chair, starting to feel a little less like a guest in his own home. 

  “How do you take your eggs?” 

  “Over medium” “Over medium” 

  If the tandem answer bothers you, you don’t show it as you expertly crack an egg into a bowl on the side of the stove and one into the pan. Santi adjusts next to him, seemingly a little flustered attempting to ignore his slip up. 

  “You don’t have to make-“ 

  “Don’t be a martyr over eggs.” Santi cuts him off before he can finish and you turn, giving him a stern look before whisking the mixture in the bowl. 

  “At least he doesn’t eat them scrambled like a child.” You mutter under your breath and Frankie tries to hide his smile behind his hands as Santi flips him off. 

  “I heard that chiquita.” He teases and you shrug as you plate up the rest of Frankie’s food. Retrieving the bacon from the warm oven and setting two hefty biscuits next to it. 

  Frankie stares at the plate, much like he did last night and he doesn’t even know where to begin. That’s a lie actually, he knows as he dives into the biscuit without another word. The buttery flaky crust with a hint of something sweet hits his senses and he can’t help the moan that escapes him. 

  He can see your shoulders moving as you laugh and he doesn’t even care with how good this is. Your food is a religious experience that only a chosen few should get to enjoy. As he glances over at Santi eating in silence a tinge of jealousy sparks in him that he gets to indulge in this all the time. You,this food,this life. For now Frankie has to live with the choices he made. 

  “Don’t be shy Frankie there’s plenty more.” You politely cover your mouth while you eat your breakfast and somehow finish cleaning the mess in a matter of minutes. 

  Frankie leans back in his chair rubbing his belly unashamed. Santi glances over noticing the way he looks so content and a slight gleam in his eye. “So does this guy do anything around here?” 

  Santi stands from his chair gathering both of their plates. “I provide other services.” He kisses you on the cheek as you playfully swat at him. “I also wash the dishes.” 

  “You own a dishwasher.” 

  “Frankie I don’t make the rules, I just do what the lady asks.” Of course Santiago doesn’t notice that this is the first time he’s used his name, not his government name or his call sign or the dreaded name he gets when people are mad at him but his chosen name. Frankie watches you both as you exchange subtle glances, some unspoken language between the two of you that he used to understand but it’s been too long. 

  Without words Santi is grabbing things from the fridge and setting them out on the counter for you as you retrieve some bowls from the cabinet. You’re filling a large pot with water as Santi returns to his seat at the island having fulfilled his duties of making piles of unfinished ingredients on the table. 

  “How much time do I have?” 

  “We don’t have to be at Wills until one so don’t rush cariño.” Santi says as Frankie gives him a quizzical look. “Barbecue…you’re going.” 

  Frankie tries to school the expression on his face into a neutral one as his stomach drops. He knew he needed to talk to all of them eventually, but he didn’t anticipate it being his second day back. He knows he can’t avoid the conversation forever and the sooner he rips the band aid the better. There’s too much weighing on his shoulders that he needs to get off so they can all live better lives. At least Frankie hopes after he talks to them that they are appreciative and see all he’s done to get back in their good graces. 

  “If I don’t make this pasta salad Benny will kill me.” He realizes after a moment that you’re speaking to him and he can’t wipe this dumb look off his face. 

  “Well if it’s anything like I’ve had already I can see why he’s obsessed.” You smile up at him as you chop some bell peppers with perfect precision. He’s not sure how you’ve not cut yourself as he looks from your eyes to the cutting board, but it’s almost reminiscent of how he feels when he’s flying; effortless.

  Frankie finally breaks your gaze as you turn around to pour the pasta in the boiling water. Santi’s eyes bore into him as he leans back in his chair with his arms crossed. Santiago was never good at subtlety, especially when it came to his outward appearance. If he had to title this one it would read if you keep flirting with her I’ll smother you with a pillow. 

  ****

  The three of you are in Santi’s Jeep on the way to Will's house. You insisted after going back and forth with Frankie to the point of awkwardness that he sit in front. You hilariously and completely ended the argument when you sat in the back and shrugged your shoulders knowing Santi would riot if he was made out to be some chauffeur with you both in the back. 

  The car smells divine…you managed to make two types of salad, some cupcakes and those cookies he can’t stop thinking about. Frankie’s recently caught wondering how Santi is still in such good shape with the way you cook. He watches the way his muscles strain against the black tee shirt as he shifts gears. The way his jeans fit his thighs just right as he-

  “Something on your mind Fish?” He’s been caught this time and it certainly won’t be the last time. 

  Frankie’s eyes meet yours in the rearview mirror. “Nothing…Just wondering how you still have a waistline when you live with Julia Child.” 

  You laugh and bite down on your lip to stop it from bubbling over in full blown hysterics. Frankie looks away but you don’t miss the way he smiles as his tongue pokes out from between his teeth. 

  Frankie stares out the window, something blooming in his stomach at the way he made you laugh again. It’s infectious and at this point he doesn’t even care…he knows full well that if he looks to his left he’ll see the second chapter of Santi’s death glare titled keep it up and I’ll crash this car. 

  ****

  It’s not a far drive to Will's house, but there was no way they were walking in the Florida heat with all this food in tow. Frankie swallows hard as Santi makes the last turn down their street. He has seen this house many times, it still sits beautifully at the end of the block nestled among two live oak trees in the front yard. The most unique house on the block and the largest backyard. He helped Benny and Will look for it so they could all be close to each other. The plan fell into place just before they left for Colombia. They closed on the house one month before leaving and for that Frankie is relieved to see all was not lost in that jungle. 

  He rubs his clammy hands along his jeans as Santi parks the car in the long driveway. He waits for a moment as you both exit the car to gather the supplies. He wants to get in the driver's seat and head home or maybe just get out and walk straight to the airport. Anything to avoid the possible rejection he faces when he walks into Wills backyard to see his best friends brothers again.

  The passenger side door is opened for him and you’re standing there expectantly with your hand out. “He said you might need some help.” 

  It feels childish and yet he needs it all the same as he takes your hand in his and steps out of the Jeep. It’s so small in his as you lace your fingers and pull him to the front door instead of the side gate to spare him a brief moment to gather his thoughts. He lets you lead as he tries not to step on your feet that need a few more strides than him as you approach the large wooden door. 

  The house is pristine and cozy on the inside as you enter. Santiago’s in the open concept kitchen putting away all the goods you made as Frankie looks around for anyone else. You squeeze his hand once before letting go to join him in the kitchen. 

  “Ben already took the pasta salad so that’s as good as gone.” Santiago says as he cracks open a beer and hands it to Frankie. Anything to take the edge off. 

  “I’m gonna go find Emma babe.” You kiss Santi on the cheek as you exit the kitchen leaving the two men alone. 

  Frankie’s eyes go wide as you shriek from the patio and Santi laughs. “Put me down Ben!” 

  Bennys voice is carried away with the sound of the music over the outside speakers. “Not a chance sweetheart.” 

  Santi nods to Frankie as he takes a huge swig of his beer. “Let’s head outside before she kills him.” 

  ****

  “Nice to finally meet you Frankie.” Will’s wife Emma is just as he pictured. Tall brunette with perfect hair and an even more perfect smile. She’s been kind enough to show him around the house and the yard as a means of distraction from the not so warm welcome he got from Will. 

  “It’s nice to meet you too.” He sounds like a kid that just got scolded for stealing as he removes his hat and scrubs his fingers through his hair. Emma’s showing him the room Benny is in. He spent what little money he had to open his own gym so they’re graciously letting him stay to save some money. Frankie feels particularly guilty about that right now but soon that will change. 

  “The office will hopefully be a nursery soon.” She turns to him offering a genuine smile. “Then we’ll have a live-in babysitter.” 

  “I’m hoping you don’t mean Benny.” Frankie chides as she throws her head back and laughs. 

  “He’s not all that bad and he could do with some practice.” Emma motions with her hands as she finishes the tour and Frankie feels like he’s having some sort of out of body experience. Walking through the home that he helped pick out so that Will could start a family. Everyone was doing exactly what they set out to do and Frankie was just…idling. 

  “Frankie?” She’s staring at him now, nearly eye to eye with him as she places her hand gently on his elbow so as not to startle him. He supposed she’s used to dealing with spooked vets by now. It’s almost like approaching a caged animal. “He’ll come around…I know he loves you, he just needs some time.” 

  Frankie’s too embarrassed to ask if she means Santi or Will so he just nods and says ‘thank you’. 

  ****

  Frankie’s on his second helping of pasta salad as he sits at a table with the guys and some of Benny's friends from the gym listening to Santi drone on about his security consulting business. Of course Santiago found a way to travel around telling other people how to do their job. 

  Frankie looks up from his plate to see Will staring daggers at him. He’s a coward to look away but he’s not ready to face that scrutiny. It’s not much better as his line of vision drifts to you and Emma laying out by the pool talking and laughing. The sun is beating down on his neck as a bead of sweat trickles down his spine. You roll to your front on the lounger and untie the strings of your top. The white bikini already left little to the imagination and now he can just barely see the soft curve of your breast as you adjust to get comfortable. 

  “They’re perfect aren’t they. ” Frankie nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of Ben’s voice in his ear. 

  “What?!” 

  “Emma and Will…I saw her giving you a tour earlier.” Ben winks at him as he steals a bite from Frankie’s plate. Frankie starts to speak but Ben cuts him off and leans in closer. “I know everyone has already given you enough shit so I’m not going to. I just hope you’re here to stay.” 

  “I am.” Frankie says it a little louder than he intended and he can feel Will and Santi’s eyes on him. The mindless chatter amongst the table has continued but the four of them are waiting on a limb as Frankie realizes this is the first time he’s actually said it. “I’m making plans to stay.” 

  Santi raises his eyebrows in surprise as Will finally speaks. “You gonna find a flying gig?” 

  Frankie doesn’t really need to work but he supposes he’ll go crazy if he doesn’t find something to occupy his mind. “I don’t know yet but I’ve got some money saved until I figure it out.” He takes a sip of his beer to disguise the little white lie. 

  Ben slaps him on the back and he splutters his beer. “You can come help me at the gym.” Ben’s shadow boxing him as he tries to clear his throat. “Let’s see if this old man can still spar with the great Benjamin Miller.” His friends at the table roll their eyes along with the rest at his large ego. 

  Frankie points the butt of his empty bottle at the younger man. “Ben, I can still kick your ass.” 

  “Is that so?” 

  Frankie nods slowly. 

  “I don’t think he can climb a flight of fucking stairs.” Will's voice cuts in and the table goes silent. There’s a slight smirk on his face as Benny erupts in laughter next to him. Santi drops his head to the table as the rest of the men join in and for a fleeting moment it all feels like it used to. 

  ****

  The parties died down a bit and it’s just the guys left while you and Emma say your goodbyes. The boys are staying for poker and that will give Frankie the perfect opportunity to talk to them. He’s not sure how much longer he could hold it in. 

  “Are you sure you’ll be fine walking home?” You approach Santi and the guys around the kitchen island.

  “They’ll both survive.” Will answers for him as he finishes the dishes in the sink. 

  “Cariño please don’t wait up for me this time.” Santi says through gritted teeth as he pulls you into a hug, kissing you on the cheek. Ben steps up behind him making mock kissing gestures and Will grabs him by the collar dragging him off to the garage. 

  Frankie awkwardly starts to walk away and leave you two alone when you call out to him. 

  “Francisco Morales…make sure he doesn’t gamble all his money away.” It’s said in jest as you gather your things to leave. 

  “I’ll do my best, hermosa but I make no promises.” 

  Frankie’s sure you don’t notice the slip up as you wave them goodbye and exit the front door. Heat creeps up his neck and he doesn’t even want to look Santi in the eyes. 

  “Hermosa hmmm?” Santi nods his head toward the garage door and steps beside him. “I see you still get flustered when beautiful people use your full name.” 

  Frankie follows closely behind as he breathes out through his nose. 

  This was going to be a very long night. 

  ****

  They’ve got him all wrong. 

  What started out as a fun game of poker quickly became a tense game of figuring out what Frankie’s play was. They’ve wrongly mistaken his nervous face for a poker face and everyone keeps folding. 

  Just spit it out 

  Frankie’s sitting here in Will's converted three car garage. Half of it was a shop to work on his motorcycle and whatever project his mind needed to keep him occupied. The other half is almost an exact replica of their favorite bar, all the way down to the teak wood flooring and an old school saloon type dresser with a roll top bar in front. He’s been trying to admire all the work he’s put in. The pool table and matching poker table just add to the charm. 

  You’re stalling

  “Fish, what’s your move?” Santiago’s voice is dripping with annoyance as Will stares down his cards like they’re going to change suits right in front of him. 

  He stares down at his hand and the pile of chips in front of him. He actually has a good hand this time, three of a kind and pocket aces. 

  It’s not about the money

  “All in.” He pushes his chips in the middle while Santi and Will quickly follow suit. Benny scoffs from behind the bar as he pours himself another beer having lost all his chips ages ago. 

  “You losers are gonna fall for it again?” 

  “Who are you calling a loser?” Will chides the younger man as Santi laughs behind his cards. 

  “I can read this pendejo like a book…he doesn’t have shit.” Santi says the last part playfully but the first part used to ring true. 

  Frankie lays down his cards and Will curses under his breath and throws his face down. Bennys laughing to himself over in the corner but Santiago’s grin is deepening by the second. It takes more muscles to frown, which is why he thinks Santi has such strong features. When he smiles though…it almost knocks him off his feet. 

  A trickle of sweat runs down Frankie’s back as Will raises an eyebrow at Santi. He leans back in his chair crossing his arms. “Let’s see ‘em Pope.” 

  Money,Money,Money

  Ten,Jack,Queen,King,Ace. Each flick of his wrist and the sound of the cards on the table as Santiago draws out his torture echo in the room. He leans in dramatically, dragging all the chips to sit in front of him. The sound of Benny whooping behind him and Will’s slow clap is drowned out by the ringing in his ears as he stares at the Royal Flush in the suit of hearts. Okay karma,you made your point. 

  “I went back for the money.” 

  He knew there was no right way to drop this kind of bomb on them. Judging by the silence in the room, perhaps there was a wrong way. 

  It’s so quiet you can hear the rustling of the chips settled in front of Santi falling by the wayside. 

Will locks eyes with Frankie as he leans back in his chair. The weight of what he just said hits him like a ton of bricks.

  “So we’re rich.” Ben’s voice cuts through the silence as he pours himself another drink. 

  “Ben, are you kidding me!” Will goes to stand as Santi lays a gentle hand on him urging him backwards. 

  As crass as it may sound coming out of the younger man’s mouth he couldn’t hide from it anymore. “Ya Ben, we’re rich.” 

  “Why?” Santi sounds calmer than he would’ve imagined after being silent for so long. He expected a fight from him, yelling and cursing. Frankie’s brain is doing somersaults trying to keep up with his emotions. Did he want Santi to yell? To tell him he was wrong for putting his life in danger. 

  Maybe there’s some weird fucked of part of Frankie that wants to be treated like a martyr so he can justify all the shit he’s put them through these last few years. Or maybe it’s just hard for him to realize that Santi was capable of changing for the right person. 

  “I did it for you…for us.” Frankie corrects although he’s not sure why. He could be nothing but honest in front of the men he risked his life for.

  Santi huffs a laugh as he shifts in his seat to look at Frankie. He picks up a stray chip rolling it on top of his fingers, some nervous tick he picked up during their army days. “You sure you didn’t do it for you.” There he is. 

  “What the fucks that suppposed to mean.” Frankie bites out ready for a fight. The fight he’s wanted since he landed here, back home. 

  “You’re gonna tell me that you didn’t go on some suicide mission without telling us…” He takes a moment to calm his breathing and lower his voice. “You did this so you could come back with something. To show us that you didn’t just leave everything for no reason. That you didn’t walk away from the best thing in your life because you got scared.” He tosses the chip and it lands in front of Frankie as Ben whistles low under his breath. 

  Santiago always had a way with words. He could rally the team when they were feeling down or nervous about a mission. He could convince higher ups to do things for him and make it seem like it was their idea to begin with. He could charm the pants off anyone he laid his sights to for one night or wax poetic to the love of his life. 

  He could also make his words cut like a knife. Those same words could make any bullet Frankie’s ever taken feel like a bee sting in comparison. If Frankie wanted him to see that he’s changed he was going to half to meet him more than half way. He’s wounded and hurt, absolutely incapable of seeing anything besides what he’s been through the last three years. 

  “You’re right.” Foreign words leave his lips not often spoken to the man with the ego the size of Texas. Frankie scrubs his jaw, kneading his fingers in that spot of patchy beard. “You’re right Santiago, I didn’t want to come back empty handed with nothing to show for myself. I felt like a failure after Colombia.” 

  “We all did.” Will cuts in as he slaps his hand down on the table. Loose chips falling to the floor. 

  Frankie lets out a long sigh. “I know man…I don’t mean.” Frankie underestimated how much damage he had done. Not just to Santi but to everyone. “I’m sorry. This was the only way I knew how to apologize, even if it comes off wrong I don’t regret one second of it. We all deserve this money and you know that.” He points at Will before continuing. “You can be mad at me all you want, I'm not running this time. I’m gonna stay and fix this even if it takes me the rest of my life.” 

  Santi stands abruptly, saluting Ben and squeezing Will's shoulder as he exits the garage. 

  Will slides the small notepad for scratch paper towards him, scribbling down some numbers. He clicks the pen and tosses the notepad to Frankie as he stands from the poker table. “I suppose this is my fault.” 

  Frankie tilts his head in question. 

  “I gave those coordinates to Pope.” He clicks his tongue as he rests his hands on the table next to him, eyes drawing up in mischief. “But he told me he lost them.” 

  Frankie stares down at a long list of numbers. “What’s this?”

  “My banking info.” Will looks at him then a little more tired behind the eyes than he’s ever seen. “I love you Fish, he loves you too.” Will slaps him on the back and exits the garage leaving Frankie with the younger Miller. 

  Frankie doesn’t turn around but he can picture Ben behind him. “Goodnight Ben, my favorite and only brother in the world. I love you soooo much.” He’s definitely miming with his hands. “Goodnight Will, even though you’re a pain in my ass I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

  Frankie laughs a little bit. It's short lived as a cold piece of ice hits the back of his neck running down his shirt right into the open crack of his jeans. 

  “What the fuck Ben!” Frankie turns in his seat to see him crunching on some ice. He narrowly misses another piece thrown at his head. 

  “I want my money by tomorrow.” He does his worst impression of a mobster as he leaves Frankie alone in the garage. 

  ****

  Santi sits on the curb in front of Will’s house as he hangs his head in his hands. Thankfully for him it’s a decently cool night compared to the awful humidity he’s usually subjected too. He often wonders why they all settled here instead of somewhere off the grid. It’s comforting in a sense, it feels like home. 

  It’s tearing him up inside holding onto all this anger for Frankie when he really just wants to tell him he loves him. He thought he would feel better after getting it all out, finally laying down his cards so to speak. It brewed somewhere underneath for all those years and as cathartic as it was to say it out loud it didn’t change what happened. 

  Now he’s left seemingly with everything he could possibly want and he feels numb. 

  Santi hears the front door close softly behind him as Frankie makes his way down the path. He doesn’t want to argue anymore, he just wants to let this all go and finally live a peaceful life with enough money to make sure he’ll never have to sweat again. 

  “I don’t want to fight with you anymore.” He looks up to Frankie holding out his hand to help him off the curb. “Please forgive me.” His soft brown eyes look down at him. The ones he could never resist even if he tried. 

  He accepts his hand as he hoists him off the ground dusting off his jeans. “I forgave you a long time ago Fish.I had to for my own sanctity.” 

  If it’s a misstep he doesn’t correct himself. Sanity or sanctity aside, he knows hating someone for that long will eat you alive. “I would not be capable of loving her the way that I do, if I had not forgiven you.” 

  “Do you still love me?” Frankie asks, as selfish as it may be. Not entirely sure of what answer he’s expecting. 

  He’s backlit by the street lamps creating a soft halo around his brown and graying curls. Santiago has pictured them doing this walk so many times in his dreams. Moving here to start a life with him, walking home after a long day of hanging out with their brothers to head home and curl up in the soft sheets of the master bedroom. 

  “I never stopped loving you.” Frankie takes his hand then and he doesn’t pull away. “I never could even if I tried.” 

  Santi’s trying not to get choked up as he stares at their hands. Frankie grips his chin tilting it up towards him but he abruptly pulls away. 

  “I thought you said-“

  “I know what I said. I love you.” He gestures between them. “But this…can’t happen without her.” 

  Frankie’s nostrils flare as he gives him an aporetic look. 

  “Don’t give me that shit Frankie, I see the way you look at her.” 

  “Looking isn’t illegal.” His possessiveness over someone that doesn’t belong to him comes out harsher than he intended. 

  “No you’re right it’s not, but you can’t have your cake and eat it too.” Santi spits back at him as he glances over at the house that’s no longer Will’s. “Let’s keep moving.” 

  Santi gets two steps ahead before Frankie yanks his arm back bringing him face to face. Daring him to call his bluff. 

  “Isn’t that what you’re telling me…that I can have my cake and eat it too.” His body’s pressed against his, they’re so close he can breathe his air as he practically spits fire. 

  “Yes Francisco, that’s what I’m telling you.” He gently prys Frankie’s hand from his arm putting some space between them. “But I’m not doing it behind her back.” 

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[falafel14]

Jack Wolfe as Gabe Goodman

So I've had a few "Tell me everything!" responses to my recent post about the Donmar Warehouse's stunning new production of Next to Normal. Knowing the audience here, I'll narrow my focus to writing about what I know my fellow 'Six of Crows' fans will most want to hear - Jack's role as Gabe. I won't be recapping the show itself, as I assume most folks reading this will have listened to the soundtrack, read the script, or watched a Broadway bootleg. Or at least I hope so, because below you will find MAJOR SPOILERS for Next to Normal and specifically the Donmar's staging of it.

Gabe is introduced to us as the Goodman's teenage son, who seemingly has a close affectionate relationship with his mother, Diana, but frosty relationships with his father Dan and sister Natalie, neither of whom acknowledge his presence. About thirty minutes in we are shown exactly why. Diana brings out an 18th birthday cake when the family have Nat's boyfriend Henry over for dinner and it is revealed that today would have been Gabe's birthday...if he'd been alive. But Gabe died when he was a baby and Diana has only been imagining him growing up all these years.

Up until this point, Jack has been playing Gabe as a cheeky rebellious teenager, but when he slinks back on stage to blow out the candles on his cake, he becomes a much more ethereal and impish presence. In I Am The One, his expression transforms from sweet and devoted when singing to his mom, to menacing and malevolent when singing to his dad. Gabe manifests as different personas for each member of his family and it's thrilling to watch as Jack shifts between them all. When Natalie comes downstairs to sing Superboy and the Invisible Girl we see Gabe as the cocky conceited older sibling, who seems to revel in being their mother's favorite.

In her next therapy session, Diana is asked to speak about her son and this is when we get Gabe's showstopping I'm Alive solo. This number really did raise the roof. I'll admit when I saw videos of Jack singing it at Tom Kitt's concert, I was worried he wasn't giving the song the necessary attack. But on stage he goes absolutely full-throttle with it. He starts at the top of the stairs with a mic stand, looking like the frontman of a rock band, then he brings the mic down, roaming all over the floor. At one point in the song, Natalie and Dan have an argument and Gabe comes to stand between them, looking amused as he passes the mic between them. However Gabe starts to lose some of his swagger as Diana's doctor suggests that - as 18 is the age that children typically leave home - maybe Diana should think about her son this way and finally let him go.

In the next scene, Diana is in the kitchen, clearing out Gabe's things. She holds up a baby-grow and then starts playing a music box she used to use to help Gabe to sleep. Gabe comes down the stairs with a rucksack and duffle bag, like he's a kid being kicked out of the house by his parents. Diana can't seem to go through with it as she pulls him into a dance and they end up hugging with Gabe's head tucked under his mother's chin, like a needy child. This leads into There's a World, a hauntingly beautiful song with a very sinister undertone as we learn this is Gabe leading Diana towards a suicide attempt. This song and Catch Me I'm Falling are an excellent display of Jack's high range (he'd make a wonderful Orpheus in Hadestown - the UK production is coming next year, so...please??)

Following the suicide attempt, Diana is given shock therapy and consequently loses her memories of the last eighteen years. In the early part of Act 2 and for the song Aftershocks, Gabe is up in one of the upstairs rooms, like he's been locked in a cell - not gone, but no longer able to get to Diana. When Diana finds and plays Gabe's music box, there's this very chilling sight of Gabe's silhouette, his hands pressing to the screen, as he sings along to the melody. The lighting here is eerily reminiscent of a sonogram. When Diana regains her memory of her lost son, Gabe breaks free of the room, comes down the stairs to sing his I'm Alive (Reprise) from on top of the kitchen counter. After his wife's relapse, Dan crumbles to the floor, his back pressed to the kitchen counter. Gabe disappears behind the other side of the counter, and (I'm told, I couldn't see from my angle) he sits in the same position as Dan. They both stay like this for about 15mins while scenes with Diana, Nat and Henry take place.

As Diana leaves, Dan finally rises from the floor and begins singing his I am the One (Reprise). In other videos of this song that I have seen, Gabe is played quite aggressively, stalking around Dan, goading his father into acknowledging him. Jack does this scene very differently and effectively. He stays behind the counter, his eyes downcast, his manner meek as if quietly pleading for his father's attention. When Dan yells out "Why didn't you go with her?!" Gabe leaps up onto the counter and throws his arms around Dan, desperately clinging to him. When they get to the chorus, Dan turns round to face Gabe, gripping his arms. Then at the end, Dan staggers back and tearfully says his son's name for the first time. When Gabe responds with his "Hi Dad", Jack's face his full of shocked awe. He plays it like a child realizing the father he thought hated him, loved him all along. It's a devastating moment that had everyone in tears.

After the song, Dan reaches out a hand towards Gabe, but he stops as Natalie comes downstairs. Dan tells Nat her mother has left and Nat asks him - "So it's just me and you for now?" and there's a hesitation where Dan glances at Gabe, who is still sitting on the counter. When Dan finally answers yes, it's just the two of them, Gabe's expression is accepting, not resentful like earlier in the show. As he leaves to go upstairs, Gabe gently touches Nat's hand, almost like an apology. Natalie gives the slightest reaction, as if she is sensing something. It's a beautiful resolve to Gabe's role, and when he appears for the last time for his verse in Light, he no longer feels like a malevolent spirit, but more like this serene angel watching over his family as they all try to heal and go on with lives.

This is honestly a star-making performance from Jack as a young musical theatre actor. And as much as I want Jack and the other Crows actors to be off filming their spinoff show once the strikes are resolved, I also feel strongly that Jack belongs on the stage. Between his acting, his presence and his vocals, he's sure to be a performer in demand in the West End. Here's hoping there's award nominations to come. He's deserving of them.

[pomegranateboba]

ArTw boys if they followed us back to Mid Earthium

Based on this undone prompt provided by @sleepytwilight

Context: one of the gang somehow went to Mid Earthium with us (we dragged one of them there's no escape) now they are stuck with us til who knows when

Tw: Nothing too serious, Sirius being a red flag, its mostly crack I don't know how to write sad stuff

Arcturus

You found him in your kitchen on the ground, confused

"S-Summoner? What...where is this?"

"This is your house..??"

Poor baby was still confused even after you explained to him what happened.

Oh well, it just means he can know more about Mid Earthium culture (and the Summoner)

You both found out that your imprints with each other still work here (Arcturus was knitting at home and you summoned him to the florist to ask him which flowers looked better)

He found the crustiest animal shelter once and was absolutely horrified (You had to give therapy afterwards)

*in tears* "These poor things are sitting in their own waste-WHY IS THAT DOG BEING CRAMPED UP IN SUCH A SMALL CAGE"

You both came back home with your own personal petting zoo after that. (Let's assume our house is big enough)

He takes care of all the plants and animals in the house for you

Now your house is not only a petting zoo, but also a jungle. Yay.

He helps old ladies cross the street.

Literally the best housemate you could ever ask for.

He was amazed when you pointed out that he was an actual star in Mid Earthium.

The star Arcturus literally looks like him IT GLOWS ORANGE AJHSKHDKAKJGH

Very sweet.

*arcky appreciation*

Spica

You were in your nearby public library and saw Spica lecturing some kids about yelling in the library.

How Spica of him, you thought.

After bringing him home and explaining the situation to him, he was surprised to say the least.

At least now you would be by his side.

After 1 day your house now smells of coffee

Because he makes you coffee every morning (you drink it out of politeness and your love for Spica, despite the coffee being very bitter and like a 100 degrees Celsius)

Your house is also suddenly 10 times more organised

He has a considerable amount of free time now that he doesn't have to do work for the Guide Committee 25/7, so he can finally catch up on sleep.

And you can also bring him outside more

In which he gets major culture shock, because my dude used to like ballroom music and people articulating themselves in proper English (or whatever language I guess)

"Summoner, what does 'pogchamp' mean?"

Yeah. Time to teach this man about the internet.

I don't know about you, but I feel like Spica would fall for internet scams, because they don't have that stuff in Bound Arlyn (or maybe Spica just never used the internet.)

If you have any work to do, he will be watching very closely over your shoulder.

You try to teach this old man how to play online games and fail.

"...How do I know which team I'm on? How do I crouch?"

I think you should just let him read Mid Earthium books instead.

He is a very considerate housemate, doesn't really bother you unless you go bother him

He feels so weird not doing anything since he is overworked most of the time at Contell, please give him something to do.

Your imprints still worked, you summoned him from the living room to the bathroom because you were too short to fix a lightbulb (admit it you are short because so am I)

Alpheratz

You found him on a bench, being questioned by the police whether he was some homeless guy or not.

You manage to bring him home and explain to him what was going on (I mean as if we know what's going on)

I feel like he would either be really surprised, or just not care.

His logic: No Spica nagging = good

He spends most of the time asleep on your couch or somewhere in the house, or maybe the backyard if you have one.

He honestly would not care less, but his mood would be better overall because no Spica, and also no Schedar.

So you may be able to convince him to do stuff (maybe)

Your imprints work pretty much fine, you were trying to figure out how to wake him up from his century long coma on the couch, so you went to your room and summoned him there

It worked yeah, but he just went back to sleep, but on your bed.

Ah well.

He would be more than happy to accompany you around though, because Spica isn't there to show up out of the blue.

He can reach the high shelves for you.

If you are shorter than him (me), he will tease you for being short, because Pollux isn't around.

"Give me back my phone."

"But can you reach it?"

"..."

"That's right. You can't. :)"

You hit his face with a pillow

You may have to do your chores on your own though, you could try asking Alpheratz and there is a 50/50 chance he would help you

He helps you get more sleep as well, it is stressful being the Summoner in Bound Arlyn after all.

Pollux:

You found him in a park. On a swing set. He was taped to it.

Somehow, you were not surprised.

Little boy was overjoyed to see you.

You tried to explain what was happening to the best of your ability

He was a little confused, but that was all forgotten when you offered to go out to explore with him.

You took him to 7eleven, where he got a shit ton of snacks, because who's gonna stop him, not you.

He was so excited to stay with you without anyone else.

He also ensured that you had to clean up some stuff because the bad luck be bad lucking.

Anyways, you made the mistake of introducing him to social media

Its too late now he has actual followers now

Ah well.

Get ready to do tens of hundreds of tiktok challenges

It just feels like a very Pollux thing to do

He runs around everywhere, he wants to see everything in Mid Earthium and then compare it to the boundary

"Wow, everything's so...bleak. I mean not you of course, you're really pretty-I MEAN YOU DIDN'T HEAR ANYTHING-"

Someone calm this tsundere down please he's feral

Would attempt to help out in the house, ends up giving up half way through

Your imprints work, you could not find Pollux anywhere in the house so you summoned him. Apparently he was hiding in the closet eating half the candy in the house

Loves dragging you around the place (he's adorable ahgjhgsajhg)

Vega

You both went back to Mid Earthium at the same time, together, so you both appeared back in your room

You were very enthusiastic about showing Vega around, BECUASE HE'S TECHNICALLY BACK HOME

Let's say you 2 lived in the same neighbourhood and you still live there now.

Bring on the nostalgia.

You showed him around all the places you used to go (according to Vega, since your memories of your time with Vega as a kid were non-existent)

Some changed, some didn't. Vega was really emotional after that (wait I didn't mean to put in all the feels no I'm not crying you are)

Vega would be either really teary or really happy, or both because he can finally spend some quality time with his beloved best friend <3

You both are inseparable the whole time, and if you have to leave the room, he can and will wait at the door until you are back

and don't take too long or else he will be sad (or he will break the door down and find you himself.)

All the time you both had was extremely wholesome without even trying and Vega was simply overjoyed just to be able to be with you.

Sometimes (read: every time) he would come into your room to cuddle with you because he has been overwhelmed with all The Feels ™

I literally love Vega he's adorable

Your imprint works, not because you needed to summon him (he was always by your side anyways), but because you know there's always this bond between the sorcerers? (amplifier stone type stuff or something)

You guys did build a blanket/pillow fort in your living room and cuddled :)

He is the most normal housemate because he knows how things work, except you would not leave your side for more than 10 minutes.

"Please stay by my side, Summoner."

Very sweet 100% chance of survival.

Sirius

You did not need to find him. He found you.

He somehow found where you lived and climbed through the window when you woke up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water (He refused to reveal where he spawned in to)

May Ursa Minor, Polaris and heck even Lilith from obey me why not, give us all strength to survive this

This man can and will tease you about the 2 of you living together in the same house

He has definitely suggested that the 2 of you could share the bed, but stopped before you could throw him out.

He has, despite the locked windows and door, came into your room at 3am in the morning in the form of a dog, just to bother you. You know, just because.

Polaris please come pick your kid up. I don't care whether you're dead, in the void, or is an ice monster.

Barks at people as a dog for no reason.

Got used to living in Mid Earthium very quickly.

Has most definitely pretended to be your boyfriend, up to the point where even you are confused. (gaslight gaslight and gaslight even more)

Will find a way to cause chaos.

Still pretty protective of you though, we don't talk about what he said in chapter 13

Will take you out pretty frequently (interpret it however you want)

You can never find him, so you do summon him to your side when he isn't already (he knows where you are he's just being a stalker dw)

Is very happy that he can have you all to himself, without other people questioning his questionable behaviour.

Will either help out in the house, or knock down glasses like a cat and stare at you dead in the eye.

"...Sirius please. It's 2 in the morning."

*Happy barking noises.*

"What do you want?"

"Can I be the little spoon?"

"Get out."

He somehow makes it seem like he lives in Mid Earthium, and not some wanted criminal from Bound Arlyn.

He's a menace, a hot menace, but a menace nonetheless.

[djdoezntexizt]

MENDEL AND HIS BEHAVIORS [ACT 1]

Note: This is going from the original script because that’s all I have on my laptop. I also did not proofread.

In the beginning of act 1, Mendel raises the question, “What do they do for love?” which, in many ways, is answered throughout the musical. However, Mendel’s ways of finding “love” and gaining a family are questionable.

Mendel had only heard about Trina through his patient Marvin, since she was his ex-wife at the time, and eventually had her as a patient as well. During the therapy session of “Love is Blind,” we start to see Mendel as a character, or at least what he shows now. He starts saying how lovely she is while she’s telling him about her husband giving her STD’s. I feel like that alone says enough, but when she gets to talking about Jason, he seemingly approves of Jason saying Marvin isn’t his dad and he’s a prick. He even ends the song saying how he’s never married and how “work is his passion,” but after his first meeting with Trina, he says he ‘admires’ her.

“Marvin at the Psychiatrist” is the first song that we see deeper into Mendel’s true intentions. He spends part 1 of the song making sure that Marvin loves Whizzer, almost making sure it’s not just some fling, so that he can get to Trina. Mendel, knowing about psychology and the inner workings of the brain, uses gaslighting and manipulates his words in a way to be controlling and control someone’s thoughts. In part 1, he uses pointed questions that make Marvin think more about whizzer and his feelings for him rather than his family problems, talking about it at psychiatry almost making him feel like it’s more important than his family problems he more than likely needed to talk about.

In part 2, we get a look into Marvin’s perverted intentions with Trina, starting the part with how her “meager glories” and “tragic stories” move him in unreported ways, and if you’ve ever watched the musical, you’d see what he means by that. He follows up how she’s a very good and wonderful woman, and even asks Marvin if he minds that Trina came to speak of Jason. This already sets off red flags, since doctor-patient confidentiality laws had already been in effect for at least 5 years at this point, and knowing it’s set in New York, these laws had to have been upheld well there. He even mentions he hopes Jason continues to act out and misbehave, more than likely he wanted to use Jason as a tool to continue talking to Trina and getting closer to her, and that there are a few more things he wants to ‘explore’ about her. He asks about basic things at first, if she was vicious, if she beat Jason, if she was faithful, but these questions start going south quickly. Marvin just saying the word ‘breast’ makes him go out of control, and he even asks Mendel what’s wrong with him. In response, Mendel asks Marvin if Trina sleeps nude. After his little outburst over the word breast. Okay buddy. He asks if she wears a negligee, and even sniffs a scarf she left behind, Marvin catching him. This song is where we see the most of Mendel’s personality, and even though everyone’s a little messy in act 1, he’s just outright creepy.

In ‘This Had Better Come to a Stop,” the family and the little bit of sanity holding it together finally starts to crumble, going downhill as Marvin and Whizzer get in yet another argument. Mendel, being who he is, assures her it’s not her fault and it’s through anyways. Trina, frustrated and seeking for answers as any woman with a gay ex-husband in the late 70s would, asks who’s responsible, and Mendel just says not to ask him questions and how he’s frightened of them, but he’s glad the marriage is coming to a stop and how he’ll help Trina mend herself after this.

From here on, the family starts to fall apart. Trina breaks down, everyone is fighting, and Trina admits that she thinks she likes Mendel, but continues to say how she only wants a man who can love, like, or help her, which Mendel helps her and seems to be obsessed with her, which she probably takes as his love.

By the time Mendel comes to the house for Jason’s therapy, he is fully ‘swooning’ over Trina, for lack of better words. Even just shaking her hand, he says he’ll “probably faint” but he’s probably “doing better-than-the-norm restraint,” which I’m curious what he meant by that and what he must think the “norm restraint” is, since he’s LITERALLY JUST FUCKING SHAKING HER HAND IT ISN’T THAT HOT OR BOTHERING WHAT THE HELL. By the time he meets Jason, he admits he looks miserable and appreciates his uninspired attitude (seen in the sage cues/notes). Through the whole therapy session, Mendel doesn’t do anything to help Jason or really heart what he says, simply stopping him and telling him to “just be alright” and try to make the periods of being alright longer and longer. Jason even questions if this is what therapy is, which, spoiler alert, it really isn’t!! Mendel shows up so often that Marvin repeats “why is he always here?” several times throughout the song, showing how Mendel had to have been overstaying his visit, even if he’s giving Jason therapy, that doesn’t mean he should constantly be there enough for Marvin to question his frequency. Jason even realizes Mendel’s feelings towards Trina before anyone else, saying it’s “not his responsibility to ask” about Mendel and his intentions with Trina.

Mendel is now proposing to Trina, and one of the first things he says is that she’s “never near [him] enough to tell if [he’s] delightful or not.” If he’s PROPOSING to her, why would she not be close enough to tell if he’s delightful or whether he’s not. On top of how inappropriate of a relationship this is to have with your client, but he continues to go on in the marriage proposal, saying “I crave your wrist, I praise your thigh… I love your eyes, I love your face… Don’t touch your hair you’re perfect.” She then starts to cry, and Mendel probably assumes it’s out of joy, but you need to understand how confusing and overwhelming this must have been for Trina. She had started to break down and her family has been falling apart bit by bit. She gave into the idea, but most likely does not truly love him, only settling over him to take some control back in her life after her breakdown.

Tight knit family reprise, oh how I love you. Mendel says how his “acts of theft are incredibly perverse,” acts of theft being him ‘stealing’ Marvin’s family. Mendel mentions how his perverse actions are embarrassing, but he’s got a family now, even if he feels guilt or annoyance for his previous actions, which he probably doesn’t because Mendel is a P.O.S. Mendel says how he has power now, and Mervin retaliates calling him King of the Losers. That isn’t relevant I just think Marvin popped off a little there. Marvin and Mendel then go on to say how they’re “needy and wanting… greedy as swine,” which is reflected both in their actions and words. Mendel went and stole the family from Marvin because he saw the weakness and issues in the family and took his opportunity, even saying at the end how he got it all, while Marvin has always just wanted it all.

March of the Falsettos is the first time Mendel says something useful in my opinion. Jason asks if his father being gay means that he’s “a fairy,” which also is terminology for being gay. Mendel replies saying it’s a stupid theory, basically assuring Jason that just because his father is gay, doesn’t mean it’s genetic, something that Jason has wondered since the beginning of act 1.

Entering Trina and more of her messy feelings about Mendel. Trina’s song (Reprise) originally starts with Trina in Mendel’s clothes, something that I find an interesting detain in this section. We have seen that Trina has had doubts about this entire situation with Mendel, especially with how odd of a situation it really is. She’s trying to push her way through it and make her own decisions, which ultimately ended in her doubts with settling down with Mendel. She says, “As for doubts that I’ve been feeling, I’ll ignore them when I can.” Even after Mendel and Trina are planning to get married, she still has doubts about her decisions deciding to be with him but chooses to just ignore them and go with the decision she made to “try and get the things [she] need[s].” She’ll just fight Marvin and beat the odds by ‘having good sex,’ as if she believes that’s what will get her this happiness in her marriage with Mendel. Later, we find out that part of their life isn’t even very active, but by then she had gotten used to him and found some feeling for him. This will be discussed later in act 2.

In “Making a Home,” they finally start to make a family and a home. In the set of the revival, this is where new objects other than the block pieces are introduced for the home other than in breaking down. We see flowers, books, pillows, and more as their home starts to repair and heal from the damage caused by Marvin before. That’s something I really enjoyed about the revival set design and one of my favorite pieces of symbolism within the set. I’ll be geeking about that in another essay though.

They start with saying they want to fill the space and set the tone for a home and what it should feel like. I feel like this is when Mendel starts to change some, make himself seem lovely enough to be with and love. This also follows the path of manipulation I’ll discuss after act 1 and act 2. He mentions how he becomes a happy wife, but Trina follows up with how he decides the role for her to assume. More than likely she’s the one who decided for him to do this, but also could be manipulation tactic. Most of the song is just Mendel and Trina talking about their home and making it. Not long after Whizzer enters, while Mendel says “Loving our – lives,” Trina only said she liked her life. Not once in the musical so far has said she has loved Mendel.

By Marvin Hits Trina, Trina has gotten used to the idea of being with Mendel, and he becomes a somewhat decent character. Trina says how Mendel isn’t a maniac, how he’s sweet, and how he’s warm. Next, she mentions how he loves her. Yet again an instance of Trina not even loving him, but mentioning that she’s loved, which probably only matters to her due to the events of her last marriage. Marvin acts out so bad even Mendel says Marvin acts “untrained” and how he’s “ashamed,” as Jason watches. This makes Jason’s mind see Mendel as good, since he’s standing up for Trina with no question.

I feel like having a family changes Mendel to be more loving than lustful, and I wholeheartedly believe the end of act 1 is their lovey-dovey “honeymoon stage.” In “I Never Wanted to Love You,” he admits to Trina that he didn’t mean to love her as much as he did and says again how he loves her and loves their family.

The only thing to discuss in “Father to Son” about Mendel is how he changed Jason’s view of love, which is further discussed in act 2 and I already have a smaller post about.

[theoraclephobetor]

Every time he shows up at Hannibal's door it hits me just how isolated Will has been. He works with people who can't help but have a professional interest in the way he thinks, and that hinders his ability to open up to anyone around him. Even Alana, who tries so hard to be his friend, admits that she makes efforts not to be alone with him. The one time she is, it's because she feels the need to corral him before he runs off to see Abigail - essentially a therapy session and in defence of her young patient.

There's nothing else in his life beyond his dogs and his teaching post. But Hannibal is right there every time Will needs him, and he's getting conditioned to reach out to Hannibal first. Because, for all that Hannibal is manipulating Will, he also firmly sees him as capable. Every time Jack decides to undermine or coddle Will, Hannibal turns around and tells Will to trust his instincts - about Abigail, about cases, about everything. Hannibal is giving Will permission to act, permission to trust himself as much as Hannibal does.

I don't think Hannibal sees Will as an equal (at least not until season 2), but he certainly sees him as a man worthy of his respect. And as a man who could be just like Hannibal. He could share a life with Hannibal. They could honestly find a path to be happy together, and Hannibal sees that. All he needs is a push, and then neither of them need to be isolated again.

And Will, he keeps going out to help the FBI and only barely keeps himself together. He's so damn tense in the field, in the morgue, and even in his home once he starts sleepwalking. But you can see him relax (as much as he ever does) when he's with Hannibal. Will tethers himself to Hannibal and lets him be the anchor he needs. Because the alternative is feeling so damn alone that he can't function.

Jack doesn't help anything either. He's so focused on the idea of saving people that he ignores Will's warning ("the thinking is shutting down") and the very simple fact that Will immersing himself in horror each day is bad for him.

For all that Hannibal is working to keep Will isolated, no one moment is as impactful as Jack's unwillingness to listen when Will says he's done. Will might have been primed to question Jack's care for him, but Jack was the one to give the final push. Even the truly sweet moment at the end, where Will sits with Jack as he struggles with knowledge that his wife is dying, doesn't fully mend that break.

Will still wants connection (or why else would he be there for Jack), but he's now too injured to really trust that anyone is on his side.

[tapioca-puddingg]

Why GoWR Valhalla Is Important

Hey. It's me again. This time I'm not yelling about Kingdom Hearts or Drakengard, but I wanted to talk about God of War Ragnarök: Valhalla today and why I think it's important in trauma-centered narratives. This isn't a detailed analysis, just me spitballing.

SPOILER WARNING: There will be spoilers for God of War Ragnarök: Valhalla, so please proceed with caution!

EDITED: 2/26/24

As a brief summary, Kratos spent almost the entirety of GoW 2018 refusing to talk about his past. His guilt, shame, and trauma deeply affected his relationship with his son, to the point where he didn't want to be around Atreus bc he was terrified of being a bad influence on him. It was only when Atreus' life was in danger did it force him to finally admit just a sliver of the truth. Now I don't mean to say that Kratos revealing his godhood wasn't a big deal because it absolutely was, I'm just saying that it's just one piece of a MUCH bigger story. Anyway, he recognized his past mistakes, but the shame was too much for him to openly acknowledge it until damn near the end of the game.

Come Ragnarök, Kratos was pretty much an open book. He had grown SO much in those short years of fimbulwinter: He openly talked about his trauma to Mimir and Freya. He worked so hard to be a good father and a good support system to his friends. He went out of his way to make amends with Freya and restore their friendship. And he fought to restore peace to the Nine Realms.

But come Valhalla, Freya wants to recruit Kratos to be the new God of War of the nine realms, or at least to be a part of the new peacekeeping council that she's putting together. Kratos is extremely hesitant to take up the mantle. He doesn't feel worthy or deserving enough to hold this position given all that he's done. He and Mimir (and later on, Tyr) are constantly going back and forth about it. Both perspectives are completely valid. Valhalla is about Kratos facing his past in a more literal sense; parts of Greece have been manifested from Kratos' memories of it, so it's like he gets to be there in real time again. This is about helping him process what happened and to add some nuance to the conversation. It's like free therapy for Kratos.

It's funny too bc you have both opposing viewpoints being represented. On one hand, you have Mimir and Tyr being the supporting/validating voice, and Helios is the contrarian. Since he's a manifestation of Kratos' memories, he represents the doubts that Kratos has about himself. The harsh voice to show how hard he is on himself, and not without good reason.

The reason why I think Valhalla is so important is bc in media, survivor narratives are often linear. The character just "gets over" their trauma and then that trauma isn't addressed again. It's presented more as a hurdle than a lifelong battle. I guess this goes to show how misunderstood survivorhood is. But that isn't how healing works. We regress sometimes, and sometimes we still mull over the things that have happened to us. We might heal, but that trauma does leave emotional scars. So even after the many leaps and bounds Kratos has made, he's not "over" his past, far from it! It still haunts him every day and every night. Valhalla is Kratos still processing everything. From my own healing journey, I've learned that it takes a long, long time to fully process your trauma, if there even is a "fully", anyway. It takes a long time to learn and understand all the complexities and how it affects you in current day. And it takes even longer to process such a complicated history like Kratos'.

Generally speaking about the idea of processing trauma, I said earlier that survivorhood is extremely misunderstood by the masses. Imo, our society is very anti-victim/anti-survivor. So with that in mind, from the perspective of the audience, some might perceive the processing trauma bit as repetitive or "milking it". These are mediums of entertainment after all, so ofc I understand wanting to put out an engaging story where the audience doesn't lose interest. But screw those ppl lol. We have to understand why we do what we do if we want to do better, and it's amazing that a video game is willing to have these conversations. Being more open about all the nuances of processing trauma, grief, healing, etc will go such a long way.

Even the roguelite gameplay style perfectly reflects this theme. Processing this stuff is slow. It doesn't happen overnight. Unless you're in Valhalla, I suppose.

Okay I said this wasn't a detailed analysis but I lied. I'm a liar now