#behold....a half broken boy

[rboooks]

DP x DC: Child Support

John Constantine has done a lot in his life. Some good, some bad but most have been dangerous.

He sold his soul to as many powerful beings as he could so that they could fight each other over it and keep him in a safe-ish stalemate. It was a risk, one where he had to sweet talk, maneuver, and sometimes seduce his way through, but he's always come on top.

Waking to his wards broken as easily as someone walking through a still river meant he had finally met his match. John woke to the Time looming over him in its adult form.

Clockwork, the physical concept of Time, smashed into a body and consciousness. It's so rare to see the god outside his tower; to even be in his presence was such a high honor that families would keep proof of the encounter for generations to brag about.

"Hello, Johnny," Clockwork said in his specialized adult form. The nickname curved with fondness. This form is an even rarer sight to behold. Clockwork looked about to be in his late twenties, dressed in a Victorian-era suit with dark black hair, he would look human were it not for his pure red eyes and time staff.

He looks gorgeous.

John smiled nervously. "Clockwork. What do I owe the pleasure?"

The ghost hums. "I have come to make a deal with you."

See, that's not something John would like to hear from the second-strongest being in the multiverse. He was second to the Ghost King. Some would even argue that Clockwork was stronger were it not for his desire to remain neutral in conflicts for the sake of different timelines.

"What kind of deal?" John asks with a lustful grin, running his eyes up and down Clockworks form. It looks like he may have to seduce his way out of this again and hopefully could convince the god of Time that he was a great time in bed instead of dead once more

The Master of Time appears amused but unwilling to climb under the sheets with him. Bollocks, if he wasn't back for another month of pleasure then the deal would likely be unpleasant.

Even if Clockwork could be considered a past fling, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't ask for something harmful. John had less powerful exes who would gladly have him killed just as likely as they would key his car.

To make thinga worst, Clockwork reached into his gentleman jacket to pull out a small jar. John's heart leaped in horror at what was inside.

"I have collected every piece of your soul through challenges, purchases, or even offerings. I own you entirely, John Constantine," Clockwork said, his warm tan skin rippling into blue as the Ghost turned the jar this way and that. "I wish to return it to you, with my added protection, should the old contracts which you swindled will not seek out revenge in exchange, you must take responsibility."

John can barely breath "Responsibility of what?"

Clockwork gestures behind him, and out of the shadows step a human boy. A human boy that looks precisely like human-Clockwork as a teenager but with John's eyes and the shape of John's nose.

No.

He knows that despite how similar they look, Humans and the citizens of the Infinite Realms aren't biologically the same. He just didn't think that meant this.

That he could be so careless it resulted in this.

Clockwork waves a hand between them. "Jonny meet your son, Danny."

John choked as Danny awkwardly waved at him. He even stuffs his hands into his pockets the same way John would stuff his hands into his trench coat.

This can't be happening.

"Our son is half human, and it's unhealthy for humans to remain in the Infinite Releams for long periods. I now require you to raise him on Earth until his core is ready. The day our son is of age, you will have your soul back with my Infinite protection. Danny will take the throne of the Infinite Realms upon his marriage so do help him find a good suitor."

Clockwork considers the rapidly paling human with large amounts of glee. "I trust this would be acceptable? I must warn you, I have raised him outside of time, so he is a bit behind with modern technologies and references. He also has a ghost form he must use for his health. Oh, and, Danny has a peanut allergy, so keep that in mind for his meals. If anything were to happen to Danny while he lives with you, I would erase this entire place and not through time manipulation. I will simply kill everything. Keep you alive so I can kill every version of those you love across the multiverse in front of you. Try not to slip away from your child support to prevent that, yes?"

John faints.

Danny Fenton had to be removed from his dimension to erase Dan from existence. His future self had nearly escaped the Clock tower they couldn't risk a second time. Clockwork had told him removing him from his dimension, his timeline, would never allow Dan to exist. It broke his heart but to save the many lives that Dan took Danny had agree.

His friends and family were devastated even if Clockwork told them Danny would be allowed visits. Just nothing longer than a week and six months between visits. He had moved into Clockwork's haunt, becoming an assistant to the master of time. He helped weave timeliness, and suggested possible choices for various creatures of various situations across the multiverse.

Danny helped Clockwork control fate, if that wasn't ridiculous. He even tried his ghost powers, to the point he felt he could truelt match his mentor in a fight.

He spent two years like this- or two years in his home dimension. Time didn't move in Clockwork's tower so despite the amount of time he lived there Danny didn't look a day over fourteen still. It irked him like nothing else to see Tucker and Sam as sixteen year Olds while he still looked like he was a freshman.

(It also hurt to see them move on without him.)

However, due to his halfa status, his human side was starting to fall apart. He needed sun, food, sleep, and other humans. He would go mad otherwise, and none of this would matter if it resulted in Dan.

Clockwork couldn't put him back home. He couldn't even put Danny in an alternate timeline, for he could not be close to people he knew.

He had to go to one that had no various of anyone Danny knew. Thankfully the Infinite Releams is connected to plenty of places that fit the bill. All Clockwork had to do was twist a few small events, and boom, Danny Fenton would have a perfectly legal background with everything he need for survive.

If only his mentor wasn't such a michivious prankster.

" You want me to pretend to be your love child with some random magic guy?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Trust me Danny, it's going to be hilarious."

(Part 2)

[satocidal]

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ “Opposites Attract?!”— Gojo Satoru

Synopsis: the famous rich boy of the campus and the Dean’s daughter? Scandalous—especially when they’re both jealous as hell.

— A/n: Roughly based on something from my real life lmao— except that we didn’t get together because hehe. Also, this is the first part of a kinkmas fic that I have planned, it’s been broken since the fic was getting too long <3 (both can be read stand-alone!) Tagging @romiyaro @draecys @maeby-cursed because yes; nsfw version <3

— Word count: 5.7k

— warnings: Fem! Reader x Satoru Gojo; slightly suggestive Suguru and Mei Mei (they deserve to be warnings here); undertones if jealousy; a kiss (or three) at the end, I know—scandalous right; Reader wears spects in one scene; this has a LOT of bickering. Just banter for that matter, reader says smn about sex work BUT I assure you it’s not supposed to be in a negative light <333

4.5 g.p.a—a perfect reputation that you held, a decent social life—an amazing father to back you up, you weren’t ever part of the fraction of people who got in through with scholarships, why would you when your father stood as the dean? —but you’d worked for it.

3.7 g.p.a—it could’ve been far better, easily, if he only put himself in—far too loud a social life with a following of 4k+ on his Instagram while he only followed back his best friend and pretty little things (for a day or so)—part of the fraction who got paid in, who never struggled for it.

Sure, you hadn’t really struggled either—but hypocrisy was only allowed to one and you chose to take your chance.

You didn’t…despise him, the man that Gojo Satoru stood out to be, but lords, you hated the concept around it.

The loud cackle at the back of each lecture—the proxies and his fan girls, you hated it all.

More so, you hated just how enamored your dad was—after all, it was Gojo Satoru that had won the trophies and the plaques—Satoru Gojo that was a Power Player.

But the credit wasn’t to be forgotten for you too—dabbling in all that was academic, if the second half of your dad’s office as the dean were filled with Satoru’s achievements, the first half was yours.

Two sides of the same coin.

Your eyes never left your dad for a second, “you can’t possibly expect that out of Me dad,” the whine wasn’t subtle, nor the snicker that gojo let out at your words and outlet—earning a hard glare.

And to all the pampering and spoiling your father had to offer, it all failed when it came down to the pride and prestige of the university.

“It’s non-negotiable y/n,” the sleek brown in his room shone that afternoon, polished—every groove, every rounded corner—almost a story to behold.

“Yeah! Tell her Mr.Dean,” another snicker- another glare, your father sighed in his dismay.

“You,” your father glared at him, “need to find a way to shove it in your schedule as well—you’re both the elected representatives.”

To end with all whines and groans.

“I have no idea how but I need you two to find a presence of mind and perform your best in curating an experience at the fest. Dismissed.”

A sharp inhale, yours and the roll of Satoru’s eyes, your dad was aware how interesting an evening and a fest in general he would be witnessing.

You’d known Gojo Satoru for 3 years now, spending the last together at the University, standing as the President of Student Council—all against Gojo’s constant “nepotism” comments while he stood as the Captain of the Football Team—against your criticism as well.

A certain peak in the way you two governed your particular fields independently but, together?

Well.

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t always that you both disliked each other but, you couldn’t exactly deny the certain distaste the day you’d set eyes on him…

-

~First Year~

“Dad, please, make sure that no one knows that you and I are, at all related,” a chuckle your father let out, “of course darling, but don’t get prissy when I don’t let you out with attendance matters and all,”

Another chuckle shared, nothing too serious.

“I’ve heard Gojo Satoru will be joining this year too?”

An innocent question, curious is all you were—anyone would be, one of the best the country had seen in years.

Your father nodded slowly, “just so happens to be true, stay in check though, don’t want messing with people like that,”

It was evident, the wary tone that your father had acquired over the years, dealing with all that was the ego of such students, who stood tall with the heap of money that belonged to their daddies.

A slow nod you passed too—your father smiled, you were a smart girl after all.

But fate was decided and what had to happen would happen for sure.

Because you swore to maintain the secret, you weren’t to be even found to have the slightest relation of blood with the Dean — but then whatever could you do when you step out blindly, bumping right into the guy you wanted not to.

A hiss and a curse—“the fuck? Watch where you’re going,” he mumbled-eyes boring into yours, and then simultaneously, at the car.

Anger that flashed down right—“watch your damn language,” unironically, you muttered—something he’d never let you live down.

“Woah there princess, what are you on? Some patrol duty round here-?” The smirk was infuriating, his disheveled hair all the more—especially when he continued messing it up all the more.

A scoff, yours—“Mind your own business,” a shove passed and an attempt to move away—“Y/n L/n?” He held your campus manual.

The certain way your name rolled off his tongue, it caught your attention—“ya dropped this,”

A smirk adored his face as he handed back to you the campus manual, of course it wasn’t anything you required but to solace your father, there you held it.

A cramped “Whatever,” you let out, snatching the booklet from his hands quick—wanting nothing more to do with the stranger that you’d bumped into.

Just as you walked away though, “L/n huh?” The words, his, that you knew would cause you issues.

-

“He’s Satoru Gojo?” Your surprise lay hidden under the music that boomed all too loud—watching closely the white haired boy you’d bumped into a couple days ago.

“Yeah? You didn’t know?” The grin on your now best friend, and then just-roommates-friend offered little help.

Of course you hadn’t, and now you wish you didn’t still.

It was true you’d spotted him all so much over the past few days, and the people that followed him and the rumors still—unaware to why and how.

But now, with all the pieces in your hand you wanted to hide away—especially when those blue eyes stared right back—with a grin he trampled over.

“Oi! L/n right? We met at the first day?”

You cringed at how loud he spoke—so very sure that absolutely everyone could hear him, all over the booming music.

A subtle nod you passed, trying to get away from the spotlight he’d casually thrown round you.

“Your dad’s the Dean right?”

Silence- literally, just as he said that, the music system paused too—you wanted to curse your luck.

Widened eyes—star-struck stares from all those adored Gojo, amused ones at you from everyone who bothered to think.

You’d have considered lying—unless Satoru Gojo hadn’t chosen to be a dick about it, “You guys have the same last names so I thought- and then, the other when we bumped into each other- remember?” He chuckled as a couple of girls let out audible gasps, envious that you had already touched him so.

Before opportunity even lay still, he continued, “so I thought, because frankly either you’re his daughter or…you know, mistress—but that I doubt,” you wanted to punch away the grin he held, the snicker and the secrets he dropped out like flies.

So while you stood there, waiting for the ostracism—Gojo only giggled, “Don’t worry though, you’re fine, got more of your mom’s genes right?”

Fuming, you stood there—red that masked your vision—“excuse you?” A brow remained cocked, Gojo’s facial expression never once changed—it was about to.

“You’re one to talk about dads huh? Your daddy donated in just about how much into your esteemed football team huh? To get you selected?”

Satoru wasn’t new to comments such, in fact that’s what he’d built his career over but just the way you said it—just the way your angry face stared back at him—he found you annoying, adorably so.

That night, Satoru’s fan following increased by a decent thousand or so, people became aware of you and maybe, you realized, being the Dean’s daughter wouldn’t be that bad a fact.

But all the more, Gojo and you formed a sudden bond still, dislike and nothing less masking the two of you whenever the other was mentioned.

A farce? Maybe—but you were easily, in too deep to stop now.

Often nights you spent, thinking how the two of you could be friends—but huge egos that clashed in, something told you it wouldn’t happen all so easily.

-

The following week and there on were interesting—you joked all week that you’d blocked Gojo, you never did.

Gojo swore he’d have you black-listed for being so audacious—he never did.

When the huge messaging group—meant to be dead in a day—was formed, you both ended up saving each other’s number discreetly, never to approach it again, at least for a while.

And that was just how it went on “he annoys me so much,” and “she annoys me so much,” but little by little, small steps in the dark—you both were each other’s biggest cheerleaders still- applauding each other louder than anybody else.

Hands clutching onto your notepad you continued jotting down the points—fingers working fast so as not to let a single bright thought escape you.

The event was huge—the University’s 150th Anniversary—perfect, grand, extravagant—to be organized partially, by you.

There was time, plenty—absolutely 1 months before the panic would settle in, 2 before it would be over.

But seconds were quick—hasty in the way they changed into minutes, hours to come and days passed by, never realized.

A finger raised to push your spects up the bridge of your nose—you sighed, eyes landing on the form in front of you—mouth ajar and his sunglasses fixated in his hair, another piece of candy tossed up high before he caught it in his mouth.

A frustrated sigh you let out—“can you please sit straight and help?”

His eyes bore into yours- cerulean, they were pretty, almost prettier than the whole of him, you hated it.

“Isn’t it your job?” A grin he passed, a clench of your jaw was all you could—“we’re in this together, don’t give me that bullshit,”

Another grin, “talk to me when you need booze,”

“You don’t even drink,” the words fell out your mouth all so quick, hesitant you looked at him—“how do you know?” It was an amused smirk that he held, it annoyed you how the man in front seemingly only talked in three supposed emotions.

A small break, “well, I uh- noticed through the parties,” it was true, you did notice through the parties—it was hard not to, since you didn’t drink—you couldn’t be all so sure about the rest.

“You notice me at parties? You notice me at all?” Urges inside you that had to be controlled, such a perfectly punchable face Satoru Gojo held—“help me work on this damn idea,” you mumbled, ignoring all of what he wanted to discuss.

A roll of his eye and yours—“not gonna do it so easily,”

A huff you let out.

Frustration at peak.

“Actually,” your voice was quieter than you expected it to be, “wouldn’t it be better if you were there to advise us? Me? You’ve been organizing parties for so long and,” your face turned towards him—smile never faltering at his disgusted expression—he knew what you were doing, he wasn’t new to sugar coating after all, “I would love learning from the best.”

Jaw clenched, hands sauntered over to the back of your chair—most would consider it an action of endearment, you knew better.

“I would beg to differ Ms. Daddy’s princess,” Your blood boiled at his ignorance—sure, he was Satoru Gojo—but nothing gave him the right to act superior when he stood at his father’s money itself.

Hell, all he was meant to be was just a batchmate, captain of a stupid team that barely mattered—you?

Sure, a well suited empire would never land on your back, nor a fortune as his until you’d worked half your life into it— but you were better, you knew it. Denial onto his privilege to negate the Authorities could’ve never been acceptable by you.

your eyes remained stuck onto the ground —defiant—“well, i suppose it would only be for the best,” stubborn you sat and so did he—stuck in between the thickening tension.

“The best,” his voice exasperated, “would be for someone like you to sit back down and do as you’re told.”

Mouth hanging just in the slightest, you dared not to meet his face—focusing on the little stains and creases you’d administered on your sneakers—eyes sneaking onto his pair, perfect, as expected.

“That’s a little rich, coming from you—”

“—and this is the best they’ve found? You? To help me huh?”

Bigoted. Nose flared, curses at the tip of your tongue and you could do nothing as he further scoffed, “getting a privileged bitch to do my job, now they know my worth huh?”

“Excuse you?” Shaky, you sat—words spilling out before you could stop it—“your worth? Absolutely as nothing, but a spoiled man-baby who cannot deal with things maturely?”

Confusion marked his face—of course he would be, all so blind to the simple generosity that gets offered to him—all so he can kick a ball.

“The event is in 2 months sir,” address regained to the topic, you spoke flatly, “I would well appreciate that you helped us in the organization of said fest—if not, well, it would be a sheer pity that the entire football team would have to suffer,”

And there lay your ultimatum, naked and threatening—and he knew it was all but empty.

“L/n,” Gojo coughed—not quite sure, uneasy evidently, with the tension that hung lose in the atmosphere—“You maybe influential in your own ways on the campus but-”

“-but I’m just a student here, as you are,” you looked directly at Gojo now, “And to adhere to rules is the basic of most authoritative environments. So I suppose, you’ll be all the more pliant in helping us plan the fest and encouraging our juniors to help us out.”

Defiant—squinted eyes of Gojo simply stared blankly—“Alright,” he muttered.

“If help is what you want, that’s what you’ll get.”

And the deal was settled—to your compromise and his.

-

A week had passed since—the discomfort only grew.

“What the fuck? You’re speeding rumours now?” Rough were the words that greeted you first the moment the two of you entered the study you currently sat in—a half shrug you passed him, “I would need help and rather than begging you for it, why not just keep you as my assistant?”

“Excuse you?” His tone, bewildered as he shut the door behind the two of you—“Your assistant?” He barked out a laugh—“They really are making sheer idiots now huh?”

“Says daddy’s little prince who couldn’t use his academics to get in like everyone else,”

A scoff he passed—“How very original, at least my daddy has the power and how is yours, at all better?” he let his words trail off, a smirk on his lips as he pulled a chair to lounge in, and well, all cases be true, his dad probably had more money than you could imagine.

The certain charm of Gojos, after all.

“Don’t gotta flex your daddy’s sex work like that buddy,” you muttered, pulling a chair across him—peculiar you found it that he didn’t do so much as throw a fit in objection to the forced responsibility.

“Just giving inspiration baby,” he drew out—he winked, phone pulled out fast as he typed, you sat by forgotten.

A roll of your eyes—“Help me at least,”

Silence- you sighed.

“You’re supposed to help,” again, the very same cold air met you—“Gojo,”

“Nope.”

A sharp intake of breath and you stared at him, had it not been for the pretty face he had you’d have punched him long ago—a second too long you stared however, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,”

Another eye roll—“Just fucking help me,”

“Ain’t gotta princess,” he finally looked up, “I’m here to advise you right?”

An inhale, exhale—biting down on your teeth you nodded, “Of course,” you muttered—which was what had led you to the current situation, tired, exasperated and annoyed.

An hour and a half, slow—very, spent staring a few times at the blank paper and then the ceiling, often Satoru Gojo and then his phone; a couple ideas popped by here and there, all useless—you knew that.

“You know,” you spoke carefully, “As someone who’s helping you bunk without losing attendance, you should really really be thankful,”

“A bouquet will be present in your dorm tonight doll,” not a single glance spared still—it was frustrating simply to sit such.

A sharp exhale you let out, head hung back—this was a stupid idea.

“You know what?” Chair pushed back, you stood up—“I’ll manage,” fingers clutched hard onto your notepad—it hurt when he didn’t do so much as even shrug as you moved towards the door.

Silence, as you turned the handle of the door to leave—not even a look from him.

You despised him.

#6942619412: Yo [11:54 p.m.]

Your eyes narrowed at the sudden text that popped up—ignorance enveloped you still, eyes focused onto the book of applied physics in front of you—regret boring into you as you tried your best to drill the concepts into you, preparing yourself for the soon-to-end semester exams.

#6942619412: busy? [11:56 p.m.]

You ignored still, creeped a little at the protrusion—not enough to let your book down—

#6942619412: idc [11:58 p.mp]

#6942619412: show me your plans [11:58 p.m.]

Face scrunched in annoyance, you stared at your screen—the periodic chimes of notification and the switch from the dull background to immediate light up—Satoru Gojo was somehow a master at infuriating you.

However, as stubborn as lay, you were no better—‘ignorance is bliss’ they said, and you were all too prepared to test it out.

#6942619412: bro wtf. Reply. [12:03 a.m.]

You noted mentally, the time gap between his texts—a sly smile adorning your face. Something in you screamed to not do it—to not go against Satoru Gojo such—the certain something fell to deaf ears as a shit-eating grin you beheld, typing your words in.

You: it’s pathetic of you to message like this [12:03 a.m.]

You: desperate? [12:03 a.m.]

A minute went by, then another—you sighed.

It was perhaps, a bad idea— chime!!

#6942619412: it’s needy of you to message back [12:04 a.m.]

#6942619412: you desperate? [12:04 a.m.]

A smirk—yours, a smirk—his.

You: you realize the first text of your day is to me? [12:04 a.m.]

#6942619412: you realize you’re taking note of how my day goes? [12:05 a.m.]

You: because you decided to bother me in mine—get to whatever you were saying [12:05 a.m.]

#6942619412: there there princess—I demand respect and send me your ideas- or better still I’ll come over to your dorm [12:06 a.m.]

Your eyes remained fixed at the screen; ‘come at your dorm’? Was he stupid?

You: there’s no need to come here gojo. I’ll send you everything right now.

You waited, patiently, however, ever so cruel—time was always slow, especially when waiting onto someone. 5 minutes grudged slow- you were afraid that he would actually show up. Would he?

No, of course not— even for him this was absurd, given the security and the time at night—he was probably asleep—

Knock.

A twist of your window pane’s handle- a thud of your heart and widened set of eyes.

Another knock and you were at your feet, stupidly, opening the window—widening it to welcome Satoru Gojo is your room—scandalous.

A smirk he held, form towering yours by a decent couple inches, “Neat room,” he whistled as he stood awkward, unsure onto whether to place himself until he found your study—making himself comfortable on the spot you just sat.

“Applied physics?” Curiosity laced his voice and a shrug you responded with — “So what?” You muttered, reaching in to close the book—he certainly took note of the tiredness your voice held.

“So you’re an idiot—it’s a tough field.”

Another shrug—“Gets me going and nothing could’ve sucked more than chemistry so,”

A snort he lay bare—only then did you realize how quiet it was, soft breaths, the new morning dancing about the timelines—your gaze on his, and his on yours. How so eccentric—not.

“You couldn’t deal with chemistry? Gotta be dumb or some shit,”

You scoffed—knowing where he was leading it, “do we really need me to redo the whole ‘got in because of your dad’ shit here?”

He grinned wide—and just then you noticed the perfect set of teeth—the ones you’d hoped to punch and break some day, “I think I’d wanna skip it tonight baby,”

“Don’t call me that,”

“Prissy, eh?”

A scrunch of your face, a wink his.

“Why, and dare I ask, how, did you get here?” Brows raised, expression amused as he paced about your room—taking it in, familiarizing himself.

“Don’t worry onto that doll, just show me your ideas,”

Your eye twitched, it was simply alien to you—the feeling of being treated normal by him. By Satoru Gojo- reality set in straight Every Time you realized that something in you, even if small, craved his attention, his validation.

Maybe that was why you were hurt—when he’d ignored you initially, when he’d shove you in the hall without a thought spared—when his gaze was all so disrespectful Everytime you approached Him.

Maybe it was just the social construct of it all.

Maybe it was something else.

So surprise was bound to grip you hard— he wanted your ideas?

“Well?” Fidgety, you noted his actions to be—nervous? You wouldn’t be sure.

“Why?”

A shrug, half hearted, “I heard stuff on you,” and now your interest sat piqued, “They say you’re as good as me when it comes down to getting shit done,” a wink—you gagged internally at his words- his charm?

Not quite so.

“You’ve been snooping around since the past week? Got you that hooked?” A smirk you channeled, unsure still- suspicious more so.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he muttered—his eyes were quicker, quicker that yours, cerulean, I suppose something to do with the color of them—all too pretty to have one care about anything besides themselves.

“I’ve heard of your accomplishments beforehand, you know it—you just weren’t so important and most of the time I was trying to stay off your radar,” his face panned towards the shelf you kept full of books—“but you did interest me,”

A scoff let’s your lips, “Anything with a vagina and boobs will interest you,”

“Hey now-” and for a second he seemed offended, not that you cared, “don’t forget about the ass—and please, I sincerely accept dicks too.” And just at that you chuckled slightly—a small win he deemed it, “man-whore,” you muttered past him- closing your books and grabbing onto the notepad from before.

“Here,” you handed it over— a sudden feeling of embarrassment washing over—after all, as much of a jerk he was, Satoru Gojo sincerely was experienced and amazing at what he did.

Lips pursed, you stared as he read through the stuff- “I know it’s all too-” a hand raised to quieten you, he continued reading—quick at that too.

It took him a minute or so, to go through each of the 4 pages you’d jotted down—“Not bad,” you nodded, “not the best,” you bit your tongue.

“I uh- i know it’s a little extravagant?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “or more so, it’s not very realistic? You have steps planned out and …you know, it’s supposed to be done by humans not machines,”

Your eyes raised in understanding, you weren’t too sure, but just enough.

“Put yourself into it—you’re cool you know that?,” eyes squinted, you watched him carefully- not a word let out.

“Just a little…uptight, learn to let go,”

“how do I…?”

He grinned, “have fun figuring that out—the ideas were cool, gotta go now doll,” you blinked once, twice, and without a word he was gone—you let him. However could you even ever stop him?

And you knew well, the rumbling in your room was sure to get your father awake.

A click on the lock—you closed the window behind him—swift was the way he came about, annoying, the way he left. And yet you still stood alone in the room, pacing about with a dorkish smile.

And only five minutes after he’d left, after the daze was gone—you noticed the bouquet of jasmines on your bedside—huh.

Certainly understood the charm now—especially when your eyes focused onto your phone right before closing.

#6942619412: you’re actually cute when you’re not frowning yk? [1:05 a.m.]

You went to sleep.

~Three weeks before the Fest~

“I’d say it’s coming along amazing,” another fruit roll up popped into his mouth—the fifth packet in last three hours, you were only surprised how he wasn’t sick of them yet.

A nod you passed—“but they’re slow-”

“-because they’re people, they are bound to be slow,”

Another nod.

There was something that Satoru Gojo did help you with, and there was something you’d helped him with as well—his eyes panned onto the elaborate list of numbers he’d gathered, oh how you’d spun the man, Satoru ‘never gonna help nobody’ Gojo into your actual assistant.

“Tell me though, when will you order the booze?”

“It’s an official thing- how can you expect booze to be there?” A ridiculed laugh met you—“ever heard of sneaking shit in princess?”

Of course you had, given that Satoru Gojo snuck himself into your room almost every night, uninvited—so far as to snickering when you squeaked out lies to your father about talking to your friends.

“Shut up, there will be no beverage,” he chuckled at your formal tone, beverage, “you and I, or anyone can get expelled for that—it happened last year,”

“You’re your daddy’s only princess though,”

“And you’re not,” a deadpan from you shut him up quick—“dad’s gonna be mad if he finds it, I won’t be expelled but you might, especially given your record and everything—and yes that means your captaincy and everything too,”

A month ago, the nervousness on his face would’ve made you chuckle—giddy maybe but now it only troubled you for him—hours spent on the floor of your bedroom had opened up conversations after all.

“But you’ll save me right?”

He stared at you; you stared back, you noted the closeness.

There was no reply to be offered—but it did ruin the small moment to hear the causal, “Satoru~” from the lips of her, Mei Mei, long time family friend of his and an equatable annoyance to Satoru Gojo.

Both of your faces whipped to meet hers, yours scorned while his broke into a grin—“Oi!” He chuckled—arms spreading out to greet her, hug her.

“Y/n,” she greeted you too, a smile you passed back—part of your council members after all—“how’s the planning going?”

“Fantastic,” tight lipped you muttered—“fabulous,” she grinned, “mind if I steal Toru’ for a second?”

You mentally gagged at her—‘steal Toru for a second’—except those seconds never really were seconds, rather hours and to your utter annoyance, Gojo never add moves to counter it.

“Of course!” And just like that, gone, daily.

A sigh you let out, staring at the preparations—“why’d you let them walk over you all the time?” A deep voice met you, “Suguru?”

A short smile, a short breath of cigarettes met you—in the best way, “Good day to you too,” he grinned, patting the seat beside him, eyes stuck on his best friend and his rendezvous partner.

“You as , and what exactly do you suppose I do? Stop them?”

“He’s your assistant, ain’t he?”

“Yes but-”

“Am I seeing you finally turn into a push-over, like all the other girls when it comes to him?” All in good humor he spoke, but mostly because it was true.

You were bending your walls for a certain someone—it didn’t feel right.

“You think I shouldn’t?”

“I think you should only if this lasts after the rest as well,”

“Will it?”

A pause, a shrug, “I don’t know, ask him.”

You stared at him—“why are you two the legitimate same at advices? And equally bad?” A laugh met you—“go on, ask him—because as of now, Mei Mei seems to have done what she wanted,”

“Huh?”

A look at him and then at them, your heart sank—he was kissing her, your heart sank more, why were you so bothered by it?

A nervous chuckle you passed to Suguru, an empathetic one he did, “it’s fine,”

“Yeah.”

———

It wasn’t fine, hell it was far from fine—especially when you saw them together there on, all the time.

3 weeks, dates here and there—she was around you all the time, and him, it was infuriating in all aspects of the word.

“Who’re you going with?” Almost everyday he questioned, and you never had an answer because somehow, just something in you had made you reject every proposal—something in you supposed that you two would go together.

You were the organizers—but then, it was no rule.

And even if it was, Satoru Gojo wasn’t big on rules.

-

“Ready?” Suguru grinned, last minute date that you’d found—all so grateful that you stood.

A small nod with a smile you passed—“how do I look?”

“Gorgeous,” another smile, wider—eyes however, they remained stuck onto Gojo.

“It’s not about him tonight doll,”

“It’s never about him,” you mumbled—melancholy—ironic onto how the entire fest that you’d built was based off of youth and what not.

But it was about him, everything was about him- especially in the way your dress, bought just for the occasion was the same cerulean, your hair was braided just how he once mentioned liking, you were wearing the perfume he bought you for you.

Everything.

And you despised all of this everything while having nothing.

“Yo! Y/n,” you paused, Suguru did too—his smirk widening, as did Mei Mei’s, Satoru walked- sauntered over.

“Don’t you look hot?” The grin was wide, your nose scrunched in disgust, “you’re reeking of alcohol,”

He was—of course he was, right after you’d advised him not to.

“Chill, nobody’s gonna know-”

“-we have to meet my dad in 15 minutes.”

“…oh.”

“Well anyways, I see you came with Suguru? You’ve been getting close?”

Your eye twitched—so he did see it—“yeah he’s cool, and helpful, unlike you,”

A giggle, “I have a life outside of you, remember?” Your blood boiled—“of course you do, enjoy it.”

A sharp turn you made, lips bitten, unsure, uncertain—“Honestly though, if I weren’t with Mei tonight I’d actually fuck ya “

Your jaw clenched at the audacity—the other two, Suguru and Mei Mei long disappeared as you flared daggers into Satoru’s soul.

“Can you take one thing seriously? You- you bloody idiot I can’t even-” you whipped around to face him again—eyes boring into his.

Satoru, even in his drunken state knew it would last long, the lecture, a hand pulled you in very quick, a corner, secluded.

“Stop fucking shouting,” slurred his words, they lay bare.

“What do you want me to do then? You- you- I- ugh.” You paused, hard breaths let out—“you’re so fucking annoying.”

“Annoying? You’re the one screaming woman,” the small smirk that he adored annoyed you all the more so.

“Excuse you? I’m annoying?” And at that moment, you let go, “I’m annoying after you spent three weeks fucking with Mei Mei? I’m annoying after you’re the one acting irresponsible? I’m annoying after you ended up treating me like all your others girls? I’m annoying after- after you just chose to walk all over me- I’m annoy- mmph!”

Words lay interrupted quick, a rough hand reeled you in while the other held your head, the kiss was soft, passionate of one would call it, sloppy in the way his lips attached to yours, hungry.

And amusingly, unlike all things Gojo, this did not feel wrong.

But it wouldn’t help your emotions being all over the place—“what the fuck?” You asked, the moment he pulled away—“was it that bad?” An amused chuckle rolled off his lips.

“No? You can’t do this- we can’t just kiss- I-”

“-okay, then take it back,” and just like that, he pulled you in again, lips attaching once more, hands exploring each other easy, slow gasps of breath as you pushed him away this time.

“N-no you- I don’t- what? You take it back,” and almost as if his alcohol was on your mind too, you pulled him in this time—a small peck, harsh, Satoru loved it all the same.

Frustrated you pulled away, grinning his hand held your wrist—“don’t go,” he mumbled, your face contorted into the expression which screamed your annoyance.

“Don’t go? Fuck you Gojo. Fuck you and your damn ego and the audacity you have,” your breaths were shallow, the two stood so close.

“Don’t kiss me when you’re with someone else—you might be a whore but-”

“It was for you,” another mumble, quieter, “to get you jealous and I think it worked?”

A pause.

“And The alcohol?” You whispered—he loved it though, the way you prioritised the reputation above him—somehow you humanised him, “only I’ve drunk it, no one else—to…get your attention,”

“But you never drink…”

“And I never fucked Mei either, or kissed her…or anyone since you,”

“That’s supposed to make me feel special?” It did, but you were done for the day.

“I think so…?”

You blink, once, twice and instead of the third that Satoru expected a sharp slap landed on his face.

“You’re very fucking dumb,” while one hand clutched the cheek he’d been hit at, the other still held your hand, pulling you closer when he heard your choked words—eyes widening at the wetness in your eyes.

“L/n…” a sigh, “fuck I’m- fuck.” He held you close, unnatural to your relation, you let yourself be held.

————

“Sorry?”

You glared at him, the Music blared behind you loud— the both of you stood outside your father’s office, “we’ll deal with that later.”

A slight nod, Satoru was glad you even agreed to talk to him, Satoru was glad you even looked at him—Satoru was simply glad you were standing beside him.

A knock, two more, you walked inside—Satoru, as advised by you stood outside—your father would know of course, instantly.

The room seemed a breath of freshness as you walked, away from the stench that Satoru held, “where’s Gojo?” You were prepared for the question.

“Do you like the fest?” You father was prepared for the dodge—he hummed, “you both did good together, as I supposed,” you hummed.

“He won’t be coming?”

“He’s busy,” you lied through your teeth, “some kids snuck in alcohol, he’s dealing with it,” you were sure you caught your father’s smirk—“that would be highly…inappropriate,”

You bit the inside of your cheek, “of course, we’ll see to it that they’re punished well,”

Your father hummed again, “having a good time?”

“Wonderful,” your father grinned, “well, you can go then but…maybe not today but I do hope meet your assistant soon after, kind of tired of seeing him sneak in through the windows,”

“Dad?!”

“What? You’re grown up and I’ve seen the potential and I kind of think opposites do attract, and you proved me right so,”

Idiots, all around you.

All of this work is entirely original and my own—please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

[themissingnumbers]

[ @pkmn-monochrome - interaction thing i can't send as an ask bc long and images]

The dark of the Pokemon tower is never something that has bothered Red. Never something that would, certainly not after seeing much worse and being much older.

At this point, really, it's a kind of eeriness he'd come to miss. It reminds him of simpler times- days when a young boy only had to fear things like ghost stories, and shadows that lurked in the dark.

He knows very well that this place is not the Pokemon Tower he knew, of course. He's not stupid. This place was only built in its image, the miserable ending of a game dyed in grey and built out of spite.

He runs a hand along the wall of the staircase he descends, feeling the cold stone, yet also the intangible data, dull static and code under the fingertips. Watches in quiet fascination as the textures distort and corrupt under deliberate contact, the broken foundations of Generation 1 reacting to him, (same as always,) but a touch more stable from the fusion of the bastard remakes keeping it grounded.

Any damage caused is meaningless, the existence of it debatable as a whole, as he passes through a loading zone. Half of him watches everything fade to black, the other half just continues down the steps that are as tangible as anything else here is to someone within the game. Everything is right- just as it should be.

Either way, it's not like it's his game to break. That would be plain rude, especially with the risk of killing someone!

Intrigue in this world, curious as it may be, isn't why he's here.

Nah. He's more interested in something else.

Or, someone, to be more precise.

Having finally found who he'd looking for, Red steps off the stairs and into another layer of this endless graveyard, whistling as he finally lays eyes on a certain monochromatic individual.

"Y'know..." he chides from across the room, "A graveyard's a pretty cliche place to spend eternity, don't you think?"

He snorts at his own remark. "Course, I guess it's not like you had a choice. The sadsack that made this game could've picked something a little more outside the box, is all I'm saying. Do you think they'd bury bodies in the Viridian Forest, maybe? Or swimming offa Route 20, try a little watery grave... Oh, Champion's Road could be pretty morbid!"

He sighs and folds his arms, shaking his head at himself.

"... Nah, I'm joking. I can see the vision. I could give less of a shit about this place, anyways..."

His eyes gleam, and a menacing smile spreads across his face.

"I'm more interested in you. A glorified reskin of Pokemon Tower ain't shit compared to you. A little bug told me about some sentient Red-Leaf kinda amalgamation with the memories of a real person, and I just had to look into it and come to see for myself. Lo and behold..."

He spreads his arms out in some kind of almost-mocking grand gesture.

"Here you are! Cody, right? In the flesh, or... I suppose your problem is the lack thereof, heh."

He begins to approach, moving slowly and never once looking away. He stalks forward, every step careful and deliberate, teeth bared in a grin that holds no happiness but oozes with amusement.

"I've got so many questions, I don't even know where to begin. You're really something special... One of a kind, fully aware of everything. Knowing what life both here, and out there, is really like. I've seen players that would kill to even get a chance to stand where we do, but... You want out more than anything."

Scratching his chin, the man walks around them at a slight distance. Red gets the thought that Cody wouldn't want something like him anywhere near them. At least he can respect that.

"Suppose the courteous thing would be to ask a question- that's the tradition around these parts, right? Constantly interrogating you so you don't have to sit here, alone with your..."

His eyes flicker to the two GHOSTs at Cody's side.

"... Thoughts. And the like."

He hops onto a grave nearby, sitting with his ankles crossed. Respect towards the dead be damned, every tomb in places like this were about as sacred as Halloween decorations.

"Here's what I'd like to know, Cody."

His smile widens further- for a brief moment, the glitches on his body seem to spread to the air around him, cutting through the gray with burning streaks of red, white, and yellow.

"You have your hacker's memories. Some of them. ANY of them. It's enough. You'd know what it was like to be them. You know what it was like to be human. You know both worlds."

"What is it like? To be real? To be something more than code. How different is it from this?"

"What was it like to be HUMAN?"

He jabs a finger forward, pointing at them as the static that flared up around him quickly subsides, clearing the air back into the typical oppressive atmosphere of the endless graveyard.

"I want to hear it from you," he finishes cooly, "someone who has been on both sides of the screen. You could tell me better than anyone."

[wildrangers]

Oh Captain, My Captain // Quinn Hughes

Word Count: 3.8K

Summary: Quinn's captaincy finally pushed me to write this story, which I've been thinking about forever but never actually nailed down. I just love neighbor stories. Hope y'all enjoy!

Warnings: resolved angst (shocking, I know), mention of cheating (not Quinn), cursing

You knew that trying to get everything into your apartment in one-go was a bad idea. Now, you were struggling with your suitcases, backpack, and couple of boxes while fighting with your front door key. You blew out a breath, grateful for the coolness of the Vancouver air coming through the hallway windows.

“Can I give you a hand?” you heard a tentative voice ask from down the hall. You glanced over to see a dark-haired boy watching with a worried face.

“I don’t want to trouble you, I’ll figure it out” you responded, embarrassment flooding your system at how ridiculous you must look.

“You’re not bothering me, I offered” he replied making his way to your side. “Now, can I please take this box before you drop it?”

You chuckled at his comment, nodding your assent, “Thanks, I really appreciate it. I’m Y/N, by the way” you said, finally unlocking your front door.

“Quinn. Where do you want me to put this?”

You quickly led him inside, pointing down the hall to your bedroom. He set it down and returned to grab another box. “It’s really okay, I’ve got it from here.”

He paused in the doorway and scanned your frame, taking in what you assumed to be your now tangled hair, smeared makeup, and exhaustion, before shaking his head and grabbing a box. “I would worry about this all night, where does this one go?”

You sighed, finally accepting he wouldn’t be leaving until everything was in your new apartment, “Ummm that one’s the kitchen, I think.”

He nodded and you two fell into easy silence as the rest of your belongings made their way to their assigned rooms. By the end of it, you were annoyed to see that Quinn hadn’t broken a sweat while you felt like a drowned rat.

“How did you even manage to get all this into the elevator?” he asked, gratefully accepting the glass of water you offered him.

“I may have tipped the Uber driver 20 bucks to help me load it up” you admitted and he shook his head laughing quietly. “What?! I made the move alone and didn’t want to leave anything outside.”

“Fair enough. Where are you from?”

“Most recently LA but I figured if I’m up here half the time anyway, may as well try it out fulltime” you shrugged.

“You work in TV?” he questioned. Vancouver was known for having countless shows filming throughout the area at any given time, so it wasn’t a stretch he’d guessed your occupation correctly.

“Yup, I work as a script supervisor. I’m assuming you work in entertainment too?”

He nodded, gulping down the rest of his water before setting the glass back on your counter. “I’ll leave you to it, I’m two doors down on the left if you need anything.”

“Would you want to come over for dinner sometime soon? I want to thank you for helping me.”

“No thanks necessary, seriously.”

You shot him a look like the one he’d given you earlier which made him laugh and raise his hands in surrender, “Dinner sounds great.”

***

“Entertainment my ass” you mumbled to yourself angrily staring at your television screen. You were in-between shoots and were home more often than usual, leading you to mindlessly flip through channels for background noise before tidying up your place. ��

Lo and behold, there was Quinn, giving a press conference about how overjoyed he was about becoming the new captain of the Vancouver Canucks. Quinn, who you’d been led to believe worked in the entertainment industry like you did. And while sports were technically part of the entertainment industry, he’d gone out of his way over the last year to ensure you didn’t realize the truth for some reason. Because, once the shock had processed, a quick Google search had provided more information than your friend ever had about his occupation.

You paused trying to process what you were feeling. On one hand, the joy and pride on his face was undeniable and you were happy for him. However, him seemingly misleading you for this long hurt. You sighed in frustration, glancing down at your phone to check the time, as you were expecting Quinn to come over later. As you contemplated what you’d say to him, your mind drifted to different moments you’d shared over the last year.

***

“I can’t believe you unpacked this quickly” Quinn commented, looking around your living room as you finished up in the kitchen.

“I sent my furniture ahead of me and packed minimally” you shrugged. “Most of my stuff is in storage in LA—once I’ve been here awhile, I’ll decide if I want to move everything here or head back.”

“What would make you go back?” he questioned, settling into a seat at the island.

“Mainly my boyfriend, Aaron” you sighed, thinking of your last conversation before your flight.

“He didn’t want to move with you?”

You shrugged, debating how much to share with someone who was basically a stranger. “We weren’t living together in LA so I thought it’d be a bad idea to move in together in an entirely new country where I wasn’t sure I wanted to be long-term anyway.”

He nodded thoughtfully as you set down the food, “This looks amazing, it’s been a while since I’ve had a home-cooked meal.”

“Not much of a cook or just the long hours?”

“Bit of both” he admitted before you both dug into the meal. Conversation flowed easily between you but, more importantly, the silences in-between felt comfortable. You’d always hated when people filled silences with meaningless fluff so you appreciated that he didn’t try to force conversation where it had naturally lulled.

 “Can I be honest with you?” you asked, drying the dishes Quinn had insisted on washing.

“I’d prefer it” he replied, turning to face you, noting the change in your tone.

“I’m worried Aaron and I aren’t going to last” you sighed thoughtfully. “He’d wanted to come with me and everything in me just screamed no at the suggestion. He said he understood but I don’t know how truthful he was.”

“Have you thought about why your gut said no?”

You reflected on his question as you put away the last of the silverware. “I don’t think he’s an overly forthright person. I don’t think he’s a compulsive liar or anything and I haven’t caught him doing anything, but you know when you just have that feeling someone’s hiding something? I have that all the time with him.”

“I’m sorry, that’s a shit way to feel in a relationship” he frowned slightly and you nodded your agreement. “Want to get some ice cream? That usually helps me when I’m trying to ignore my problems.”

***

Since then, dinner and ice cream had become your tradition. Because of your schedules, dinner may be at 11PM but it was refreshing to have a friend where that wasn’t an issue—hell, it was preferred by him sometimes. During that time, you’d fostered what you thought was a close friendship. But now, as you nervously waited for your doorbell to ring, you were desperately trying to figure out how you’d missed this piece of knowledge about him.

You hadn’t cared how he consistently changed the topic whenever you asked about his work. You’d just assumed he didn’t want to think about it off the clock and stopped inquiring. You had never paused to think he was hiding something. You were pulled from your thoughts by Quinn’s knock at the door. You took a deep breath before getting up to answer it.

“Y/N, hey! How was your day?”

“Uneventful, how about yours?” you asked, willing him to tell you the truth.

“Good, good” he replied, fidgeting with his hands. “Did you still want to hang tonight?”

You realized you hadn’t let him in the door, instead blocking his way with your frame when you normally dragged him in with a hug.

“I guess that’s up to you, captain” you replied, holding his gaze. The color left his face as he processed your words and took in your stony expression.

“Y/N, I…” he began but couldn’t finish. You nodded to yourself.

“I can assume today is a big day for you so I’m not going to get into just how upset I am. But really, Q? Misleading me? After seeing how much it hurt when Aaron did that to me?”

Guilt crossed his face, “I’m sorry, I just…”

You paused waiting for him to finish a thought but only silence met you. “Good night, Quinn.”

***

Quinn was still in shock moments after you’d gently closed the door in his face. If he was being honest, he deserved much worse. He ran his hands through his hair as he shuffled back to his place. Shit. He hadn’t even thought about how your split from Aaron would make his omissions even worse.

It had happened a couple months after you’d moved in. He’d been waiting for you to grab him on your way out the door for ice cream but your agreed upon time came and went. He’d worriedly made his way to your door after you failed to answer multiple texts and calls.

His stomach dropped when your puffy eyes greeted him. “Oh shit, Quinny, I’m sorry.”

Before he could tell you not to worry about it, more tears fell from your eyes. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” he asked, gently guiding you backwards into your apartment so he could close the door for privacy.

“Aaron and I broke up” you mumbled through your tears and he pulled you into a hug. He rubbed what he hoped were soothing circles on your back as your sniffles filled the room. It killed him to feel your shoulders shaking against his chest.

“Shhh, I’ve got you” he murmured a few times before you quieted against him. He moved a strand of hair out of your eyes when you pulled away from him. “What happened?”

“Well, I guess he resented that I didn’t want him to move here with me. And instead of just telling me that, he decided to start sleeping with someone else. The someone else he’d apparently already slept with fairly early on in our relationship before calling it off with her.”

“Holy shit, Y/N” he sighed, pulling you to him again. “I’m so sorry, what an asshole.”

“No, I should have noticed how much the move upset him or just let him come with me, I mean—”

“Don’t you dare” he said sternly. “You are not responsible for him being dishonest with you. And you were right to follow your gut and do this on your own—imagine learning he’d cheated on you while living together here? Or never finding out? Jesus Christ.”

A long silence filled the space as you processed what he said. “You’re right, this just sucks.”

“Would your favorite ice cream help?”

“I don’t feel up to going out right now, Q.”

“Let me get it for you. It’s nearly December in Vancouver, I think the cone will be okay for a few blocks” he pointed out and was relieved when it earned him a laugh and a nod. “You hang tight and I’ll be back soon.”

***

While you knew Quinn’s lies weren’t close to Aaron’s, it was pouring salt on the wound in a way that made you wildly upset. When Aaron had betrayed you, Quinn had been there to remind you with his presence and support that not all guys were like Aaron. That there were good men left and you shouldn’t settle for some asshole.

But for Quinn to have been hiding something this whole time? It hurt double—once for his deceit and twice for ripping open the Aaron scar. You’d spent most of last night moping but this morning when you awoke, that sadness had blessedly shifted into anger. Who the hell did he think he was? Had he seriously introduced you to his friends while they all knew you were being lied to? They must have known or else someone would have slipped up. And also, what the fuck? What a stupid thing to be lie about.

You were deep in one of these rage spirals when a knock rang out through your apartment. You threw the door open to see a nervous Quinn.

“Can I come in?”

Your only response was to open the door and make your way to the couch. A few seconds later, Quinn was seated across from you, seemingly willing you speak first with his eyes. But you’d be damned if you filled this silence, even if the discomfort between you stung.

“Y/N, I am so sorry.” You met his eyes and could see his sincerity but it wasn’t enough.

“Why would you purposefully mislead me about something so inconsequential?”

“Inconsequential? This is not unimportant.”

“Why would I give a fuck about you playing hockey? I literally work with famous people all the time and couldn’t give a shit!”

“It wasn’t that I thought you’d care, it was that I’d finally met someone in this city who didn’t know who I was before even meeting me.”

“What do you mean?”

He looked at you incredulously. “I know you’re not Canadian but you seriously never noticed how hockey obsessed this city is? How there’s Canucks shit everywhere?”

“I mean, I guess I never really thought about it and I still don’t understand why that’s a good reason to lie to me for the last year.”

“I’m not saying it was a good reason, I know I fucked up, okay?” his voice grew louder which made you raise an eyebrow at him. “Look, if you never want to talk to me again, I get it, okay? But please, just ask Petey or Brock what it’s like meeting people in this city so you can understand where I’m coming from.”

You scoffed, “You really think a good way to apologize and ‘make me understand’ is to remind me how all the mutual friends I met through you knew the entire time and just went along with it? That’s so fucking embarrassing! Everyone in on the joke but me.”

“This is not a joke, Y/N! God, all I wanted to do yesterday was share that moment with you. To have you in the crowd or at least be able to celebrate with you when I got home. And I know it’s my fault I couldn’t do that but fuck, it still sucked. And I didn’t know how to fix it. How do you say to someone ‘Hey I told what I thought was a white lie a year ago but I ended up falling in love with you along the way and now I don’t know how to own up to it?’”

His words hung heavy in the air but you had no idea how to respond. You had never allowed yourself to fully acknowledge that ever since New Year’s, your relationship had slowly been shifting from platonic to something more—because you hadn’t wanted to lose him. Now, you were losing him just as you were realizing he felt the same way. You shook your head before resting your face in your hands.

“Please say something” he begged softly.

“Q, I don’t know what to say. I can acknowledge in the grand scheme of life not being honest about what you do for a living isn’t earth shattering. But developing a relationship with someone over the course of a year, thinking you can trust that person because you know them inside and out, only to learn they were purposefully hiding something from you? Something that would have made absolutely no difference to you anyway? I don’t know how to respond to that.”

“Then tell me how to fix it.”

“Yesterday morning, I would have trusted you with my life. Now, I can’t listen to a word you say without thinking you’re lying. How do I know you’re being sincere about wishing you’d shared yesterday with me? About your feelings for me? You’re making me second guess everything when you were the one who helped me keep going after Aaron’s dishonesty.”

“I am not like Aaron.”

“No, Quinn, you’re not. Which is why this feels worse. Can you please just leave? I need time to process everything.”

You were grateful when he obliged and shut the door quietly behind him but it also broke your heart a little to watch him leave so easily.

***

 Your mind kept returning to Quinn’s New Year’s Eve party. You’d been single for a little over a month by then and were slowly starting to feel back to normal. While you enjoyed your time alone together, you were eager to meet Quinn’s friends and know more people in your new city. Petey loved movies so you two had been deep in conversation, really debate, about various films throughout the night. Brock had brought his dogs and you eagerly shared photos and stories of your family dogs back home with him. You hadn’t noticed that every time you asked someone how they knew Quinn, they replied with ‘work’ before quickly moving the conversation along.

What you had noticed was Quinn’s eyes on you all night. His hand on your lower back when he checked in on you throughout the party. How he had stocked up on your favorite snacks and drinks for the occasion. How as midnight approached, he moved closer and closer to you.

Until, as you all screamed the countdown from 10 to the New Year, he’d slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. How his dark blue eyes shone in the TV screen light when he turned to face you as the ball dropped. How he had grinned at you with such joy as he leaned down and placed the most delicate kiss to your cheek before whispering, “Happy New Year, Y/N, thanks for ringing it in with me.”

And you certainly had noticed the butterflies in your stomach at the thoughtful gesture, the sincerity of his words, and the intensity of his gaze as hope bloomed in your chest.

***

Could you stop by?

Quinn’s heart stopped when your message lit up his screen nearly a week after his captaincy announcement.

He’d quickly made his way to your door, following your voice that called him inside when he knocked. He found you in the kitchen, the early morning light hitting your face in a way that made his breath catch in his throat.

“Hey” he breathed out, unsure where to stand.

“Hi” you replied, smiling shyly. “I’m glad you could come over.”

“You are?”

“I am” you confirmed chuckling quietly. “I guess I’ll start…I want you to know that it still really hurts that you misled me. I understand that you didn’t do it maliciously but it still felt really shitty to find out about.”

“I know and I’m sorry, if I could do it differently, I would. How can I prove that to you?”

“Well, you can be grateful your friends care so much about you.”

“Wait, what?” he replied, confused.

“Brock texted me the other day. He ended up sending me a screenshot of the messages you’d sent him that morning. It was really sweet” you smiled to yourself, pulling out your phone. You showed him the text thread but he already knew what you were referring to:

Congrats, brother!!!

Thanks, man. Wish you were here to celebrate

Celebrate with Y/N….oh wait, you’re an idiot and can’t, never mind

I know. I really fucked up and don’t know what to do. How do you fix something you built on dishonesty?

You apologize and tell her before she finds out some other way. Did you lie to her about anything else?

Of course not

Then it wasn’t built on lies. Just own up to the small piece that was

“At least one of us has a brain, right?” he joked and smiled when you rolled your eyes at him.

“You have a brain, doofus, you just overthink things until you may as well not have one.”

He felt himself blush at your statement, taken aback by how well you know him.

“So, I knew at least one thing you said was true—you knew you’d fucked up and didn’t know what to do about it. And your final response proves that everything else was as real as it felt at the time. As real as it feels now.”

His eyes rose hopefully at your words. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying if you lie to me again, even about what color your underwear is, I will fucking destroy you, got it?”

“Yes, got it, I swear” he replied, tentatively moving towards you. You opened your arms and he gratefully pulled you to his chest, smoothing your hair down and gripping your waist.

He was debating if he had the balls to try and kiss you when you mumbled, “Will you close your eyes?”

“Ummm sure?” he responded, lips quirking into a smile as he did as requested. He heard you retreat to the refrigerator followed by a plate settling on your kitchen island.

“Okay one more second…now open!”

 On the table was a white cake with dark blue, Canucks colored lettering that read ‘Congrats, Captain Quinn! Love, Me’

“I know we couldn’t celebrate when it happened but I figured better late than never?” His eyes shot up at the worried tilt to your voice. He noticed you were fidgeting with your fingers, a dead giveaway you were as nervous as he felt. He walked closer, taking your anxious hands in his own.

“Thank you, this is amazing. I don’t deserve it, or you” he said sincerely.

“Well, that’s not for you to decide, is it?” you smiled and he couldn’t have stopped himself from leaning towards you if he tried.

He cupped your face as his lips tentatively met your own. He was surprised you were as timid as he was, so used to you taking charge. He gripped your hip with his other hand, pulling you flush against him, which drew a breathy sigh from your mouth that opened gloriously for him. Your tongues gently twined together as he felt your hands tangle in his hair. The kiss was slow and sweet but filled with so much promise it made his chest hurt.

He pulled away to rest his forehead against yours, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long” he admitted.

“Me too” you agreed, pulling his mouth back down to yours. His hands were surer this time as they slipped beneath your shirt to rub your lower back. You matched his confidence with your own, gently biting his lower lip before pulling away. “But I also really want to eat that cake.”

Well, there it is my first Quinn story! I hope y'all enjoyed and I welcome feedback 💕 We are so close to hockey season y'all!!

P.S. Yes, I wrote this as Aaron Rodgers busted his ankle last night, oops, thanks for the name inspo, I guess lol

[yuesya]

The sudden earthquake is… not entirely unexpected, in retrospect, although it’s certainly overkill. Suguru knows that Satoru has a flair for the dramatic, and Shiki is always eager to join her brother’s chaotic schemes. Without a voice of reason around to run herd on them, those tendencies of theirs are probably even worse in this world.

… In this world where Geto Suguru is dead, killed as a curse user intent on committing mass slaughter. He still has trouble imagining what his alternate self was thinking, honestly. Sorcerers are only a minuscule portion of the entire population; what did he think would actually happen if he’d somehow managed to succeed in basically wiping out humanity?

Utterly inconceivable.

“That was Gojo-sensei, right?” Itadori’s voice sounds from behind one of the makeshift barricades. The Itadori in this world is a little more jaded and solemn than the cheerful first year student that Suguru remembers, which is… saddening. But then, considering the boy’s experiences –Yoshino dying, Satoru and Shiki being sealed, Nanami dying, Kugisaki in a coma, Sukuna using his body to kill and kill and kill in Shibuya… and, more recently, Sukuna switching to Fushiguro as his new host…

It’s a miracle that the boy hasn’t broken beneath the pressures and horrors of everything that’s happened since he became a sorcerer. He’s a strong, resilient boy, although Suguru dearly wishes that he hadn’t been tested in this way.

“Seems about right for Gojo,” Tsukumo responds. The tall woman stands up, brushing off dust from her hands. There’s a large scar down her midsection, courtesy of the fight against ‘Kenjaku,’ but between three Special Grades, they’d been able to win decisively, even though the slippery man had managed to escape at the end. “Can’t imagine it being anyone else.”

Boy had it been weird, fighting ‘himself.’ The memory of the fight is enough to make Suguru cringe. He knows that it’s not actually ‘him,’ but seeing his body being saying those sorts of things and making those expressions…

If Suguru’s Satoru or Shiki had been here to see it, they’d never let him live it down, gods.

“Thank you for unsealing Gojo-sensei,” Okkotsu nods towards the angel-winged girl drifting down from the sky. Kurusu smiles, making an ‘okay’ sign with her fingers. “… Where is he, though? And that earthquake just now, too… is he–”

Suguru’s head snaps up; Tsukumo looks up, too, half a beat behind him.

“He’s here.”

Satoru’s teleportation is a thing to behold. One instant, there’s nothing in the air above them, then in the blink of an eye, he’s standing there. Prison Realm clearly hasn’t been kind to him and Shiki. Satoru is definitely looking a little ragged, and his clothes are significantly tattered. But despite that, he looks down upon them with glowing eyes, calm and confident–

A single blink. His composure wavers, and breaks.

Then, he’s standing right in front of Suguru. The suddenness of the motion causes the dimension-hopper to startle, taking half a step backwards–

“… Suguru?” Satoru –and there’s no doubt that this is all Satoru, even if he’s not Suguru’s Satoru– frowns. His Six Eyes gleam, sharp and analyzing. “No. You are, but you’re still not…”

“Bit of a long story,” Tsukumo cuts in. “In short, this is Geto Suguru from another world parallel to ours, where he decided to go the path of teaching like you did instead of bloody revolution.”

“Can you please not put it that way?” Suguru rubs a hand against his forehead, distinctly pained.

“What? I think that summary explains things pretty well. Right, Gojo?”

Satoru hums, straightening up with a thoughtful sound. “Huh… from another world, you say?”

“Sensei!”

“Sensei!”

The students finally catch up to them, swarming around Gojo-sensei like excited puppies. It warms something inside Suguru’s chest to see them like this –the students of this world are (understandably) wary of him, given his alternate self’s actions, but it’s clear that they care for and trust their Gojo-sensei.

He’s not surprised, when Satoru pulls him aside for a private chat, eventually. If the relationship that he and his sister had had with their Suguru was anything like what he had with them back in his world…

No, Suguru definitely isn’t surprised.

It’s also a good chance for him to ask his own questions, because this confusion has been gnawing at him for a long time. “How did Kenjaku get the drop on you, with Shiki watching your back?”

The familiar-unfamiliar man tilts his head. His lips move, forming a single question that makes Suguru’s blood run cold.

“Who’s Shiki?”

[mykneeshurt]

So happy your requests are open! Would love to see your take on Alex Keller. Smut of course. Dealers' choice, I'd only ask no noncon or dubcon.

😘🥰

Here you go my little pickle ❤️

Protector/bodyguard - established relationship

Alex Keller x F!reader

Warnings - minors DNI, 18+, explicit smut

A/N - I know nothing about computers, coding or hacking lmao

Protection

You weren’t sure wether work could get anymore boring on a rainy Wednesday afternoon, but here you were. Proved wrong. Again. Price had left a mountain of work for you to do, intel he wanted double checking, maps he wanted upgrading, a new location for a safe house. If you were being honest he was being a bit of a prick.

Needing to stretch your legs you wandered to the kitchen for coffee. Shitty ass office coffee. The kettle boiled and you went to fetch milk from the fridge. Lo and behold there was none. Slamming the fridge shut you stormed back to your office. Could today get any worse?

Evidently. It could.

There was a pop up on your screen that you’d not seen before. Investigating further you found that a piece of code you’d been working on, to find a terrorist group, had worked. You’d broken their code. ‘Price! Get in here! Now!’ You yelled at the top of your lungs. ‘Why? Haven’t I given you enough work?!’

‘You’re gonna wanna see this!’

His footsteps echoed down the hallway as he ran towards your office. ‘What’s up love?’

Spinning in your chair you had a huge grin on your face, looking rather proud. ‘Well, you know that group in Al Mazrah? Moving weapons. That you’ve been struggling to find for months? This is their co-ordinates.’ Smug wouldn’t even begin to describe how you looked.

Price planted both hands on your shoulders, congratulating you. ‘Well I never. Well done love. I’ll let the boys know!’ He fired off a few texts and began looking at the screen with you. As you both tried to locate it on the map suddenly the cursor began to move on its own. ‘What the fuck?’ You whispered squinting at the screen, ‘someone’s taken control of the computer?’

Price looked over your shoulder just as confused. Until it dawned on you. ‘Oh fuck!’ You yelled, jumping up from your chair. Hand over your mouth your chest heaved. ‘What? What’s wrong?!’ Price half spoke, half shouted. ‘It’s them! They’ve hacked me back! Oh fuck oh fuck!’

Without thinking you yanked the plug out from the socket, the computer shutting down. Screen now black. ‘Shit. I’ll let Laswell know-.’ You cut him off before he could continue. ‘I don’t know what they’ve seen John! They could have taken anything from my computer! My name? My address? This place?!’

Panic swelled inside you, chest tight, walls closing in as your heart thumped in your chest. You felt dizzy. ‘Hey hey hey! Sh sh sh’ he cooed, pulling you into a tight hug. ‘I’ll get Laswell on this. Go home, grab the essentials. I’ll have someone waiting for you there, they’ll take you to a safe house. Let’s keep you locked down till we know what’s happened.’

———

After grabbing some essentials; toothbrush, toothpaste, clean pants, comfy clothes, meds and of course wine you ran back downstairs. A black 4x4 was already say outside, just like Price had said.

As you locked your door a familiar voice chirped up behind you. ‘How’d I know it was you causing trouble?’ Spinning round you caught site of an old friend. Alex Keller. ‘Oh my god! Alex!’ You jumped into his arms, giving him a warm hug. ‘So you’re the one Price sent to look after me eh?’

‘Unfortunately’ he chuckled, ‘come on get in, we need to move.’

You spent the car ride catching up with your old friend, exchanging war stories, joking, laughing. It was easy to forget they may be a target on your head.

The safe house was a small flat on the second floor of a run down complex. You pulled a face when you saw it, making Alex chuckle. ‘It’s been a long time since I stayed in one of these. Jesus’ you sighed. Clapping you on the back Alex took your bag and led the way.

The flat wasn’t too bad, it was clean, even if the wall paper was hanging on for dear life. The floor was worn, blackout blinds on every window and the distinct musty smell that only a safe house would have. ‘How long you keeping me here?’ You asked as you wandered around, learning the layout. ‘Couple days tops. Laswell’s on it, should know soon enough if they got any info on you.’

Rolling your eyes you couldn’t help but laugh, ‘it would be me wouldn’t it.’ Alex smiled as he removed his bulletproof vest and hoodie. You had missed him. ‘Loving the whiskers’ you chuckled as you swiped your thumb over his facial hair. ‘Im gonna go shower, need to wash as much of this day off me as possible.’

After your shower you felt slightly more relaxed, comfortable clothes and the smell of food coming from the kitchen. Alex had microwaved two meals, a spaghetti carbonara for you, and a bolognaise for him. Giggling you ran back to fetch the wine from your bag, a merlot, one of your favourites.

Setting it down Alex looked at you in disbelief, ‘really?’ You nodded enthusiastically ‘Price told me to pack essentials. Soooo …’ you shrugged gesturing to the wine.

You both enjoyed dinner, Alex cleaned up while your settled on the sofa, wine in hand. ‘You gonna have a glass with me?’ You asked, hopeful. He shook his head ‘can’t while I’m protecting your ass can I?’ Pouting you tried your best to flash him your most innocent and sad puppy dog eyes. ‘Pretty please?’ He rolled his eyes while he bit his lip, ‘I guess I can have one. For you.’

‘Well, lucky you there’s only enough left for one. I may be on my third glass’ you grimaced.

He settled down on the sofa and sipped the wine, you weren’t sure if you were more tipsy than you gave yourself credit for. But Alex looked … handsome. You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed the wine, how his tongue left a trail of saliva on his lips. His splayed hips, taught muscles under his t-shirt.

Jesus what were you thinking.

You felt a heat pooling in your stomach as you studied him, a want, a need. His face lit up as he scrolled on his phone, completely oblivious to your growing need for him. ‘So, fill me in are you seeing anyone?’ You asked, as you finished the last of your wine. ‘Nah. I was seeing someone for a bit but she couldn’t cope with me being away for months on end’ he shrugged, ‘what about you?’

‘Same, the dating pool seems pretty thin. It gets pretty … lonely’ you bit your lip, averting your gaze from him.

Putting his phone away he placed all his attention on you. ‘Bullshit. How are you single? Or at least not even dating. If I remember rightly on our nights out you’d have a pick of the bunch.’

‘Getting old now Alex’ you winked.

‘Shut up. You could have anyone you wanted.’

‘Anyone?’ You asked, narrowing your gaze at him. He swallowed, hard. ‘You’re drunk.’

‘And you’re handsome’ you whispered as leant over to stroke his thigh.

Sensing no hesitation from him you slipped onto his lap, thighs spread wide as you gulped the last of his wine. You played with his dog tags between your fingers. The metal warm from resting on his skin. ‘Do you want me to stop Alex?’ You asked as you held his gaze, you felt him try to readjust his hips as you sank yourself lower. He shook his head. ‘Words handsome.’

‘N-no’ he stammered.

Pressing your torso against his you rolled your hips, his cock hard beneath you. Hovering your lips just above his you whispered ‘what do you want me to do to you?’ His breath visibly caught in his chest at your words. ‘God … anything you want.’

‘Mmm good boy’ you hummed.

You pushed your lips to his, pulling him into the kiss. The fire in your pussy raged as he trailed his hands down your ribs and onto your waist, holding you there. Throwing your arms around his neck you wound your fingers in his hair. He coaxed your mouth open to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipped over yours as he encouraged you to grind on his hips. The pressure danced along your clit as he moved your hips back and forth.

‘Fuck’ you breathed as you broke the kiss ‘you feel so big.’ He whined at your praise as he lent in to kiss you again. But you stopped him, instead climbing off him and nuzzling yourself in between his thighs. Undoing his belt you smiled up at him greedily, pulling his boxers down just enough to free his cock. Your mouth watered at the sight.

You kissed the top of his cock, causing him to whimper under his breath. With a swipe of your tongue you licked from the base to top, tantalisingly slow. Eyes locked on his the entire time. He gripped onto the sofa, bucking his hips. Placing gentle kisses along his shaft you watched as he tried to keep still, veins protruding from his hands. ‘Fuck … please’ he muttered, voice cracking.

You hummed against his cock, smiling at how quickly he’d become a whimpering pathetic mess. Taking him into your mouth you bobbed your head, allowing saliva to overflow from your lips. His breathing became shallow, fast, desperate. He placed his hands at the back of your head, gently pressing you down as far as your mouth would allow you. Gagging you dug your nails into his thighs, tears pricked the corner of your eyes as he tested your gag reflex.

He writhed beneath you, whispered moans, strangled whimpers as you swallowed his cock. The salty taste of precum danced on your tongue, signalling it was time to stop. Pulling back saliva dripped from your mouth, drawing in a large breath you looked up at him. His pupils blown wide, his eyes now appeared black. ‘Fuck’ he murmured.

You climbed onto his lap, but not before removing your trousers and panties. Holding his cock you ran it along your cunt, coating it with your arousal. ‘You gonna fuck me Alex? You gonna make me cum?’

‘God … yes, you’re so wet’ he said as he gripped your bare thighs.

Sinking down his cock stretched you open, filling you perfectly. You both moaned, placing your foreheads against one another. He moved you again, making you grind on him, his pubic bone added the right amount of pressure to your clit. Taking back control you began to bounce, he held your ass as you took his cock. The sound of skin slapping filled the tiny flat as you both became breathless.

Alex pulled you into a kiss, making you grind once more ‘need to feel you cum baby’ he purred. ‘So close … fuck’ you panted. You took his hand and placed it on your clit, he moved his fingers in small circles as he felt your pussy tighten around him. ‘Don’t fucking stop’ you ordered burying your face in his neck.

With one more circular motion you came around his cock, you whined into his skin as you rocked your hips back and forth. ‘Shit Alex!’ His breath became ragged as he tip toed on the verge of his own orgasm. Feeling him tense beneath you, you moved yourself up and down coaxing him to finish. ‘Fill me Alex, cum in my pussy’ you said as you nipped his ear.

He slammed your hips down on his cock, hard, once, twice, three times. On the final thrust he came, his eyes screwed shut, mouth agape as he struggled for air. He wrapped his arms around you as his cock pulsed inside you. You felt full, satiated. Grinning you bit your lip, ‘that was amazing.’

He nodded in agreement, ‘fuck, if you ever need protecting again lemme know.’

[thebrickinbrick]

Preliminary Gayeties, Part 2

"Besides, Laigle de Meaux, that bald-head, offends my sight. It humiliates me to think that I am of the same age as that baldy. However, I criticise, but I do not insult. The universe is what it is. I speak here without evil intent and to ease my conscience. Receive, Eternal Father, the assurance of my distinguished consideration. Ah! by all the saints of Olympus and by all the gods of paradise, I was not intended to be a Parisian, that is to say, to rebound forever, like a shuttlecock between two battledores, from the group of the loungers to the group of the roysterers. I was made to be a Turk, watching oriental houris all day long, executing those exquisite Egyptian dances, as sensuous as the dream of a chaste man, or a Beauceron peasant, or a Venetian gentleman surrounded by gentlewoman, or a petty German prince, furnishing the half of a foot-soldier to the Germanic confederation, and occupying his leisure with drying his breeches on his hedge, that is to say, his frontier. Those are the positions for which I was born! Yes, I have said a Turk, and I will not retract. I do not understand how people can habitually take Turks in bad part; Mohammed had his good points; respect for the inventor of seraglios with houris and paradises with odalisques! Let us not insult Mohammedanism, the only religion which is ornamented with a hen-roost! Now, I insist on a drink. The earth is a great piece of stupidity. And it appears that they are going to fight, all those imbeciles, and to break each other’s profiles and to massacre each other in the heart of summer, in the month of June, when they might go off with a creature on their arm, to breathe the immense heaps of new-mown hay in the meadows! Really, people do commit altogether too many follies. An old broken lantern which I have just seen at a bric-à-brac merchant’s suggests a reflection to my mind; it is time to enlighten the human race. Yes, behold me sad again. That’s what comes of swallowing an oyster and a revolution the wrong way! I am growing melancholy once more. Oh! frightful old world. People strive, turn each other out, prostitute themselves, kill each other, and get used to it!”

And Grantaire, after this fit of eloquence, had a fit of coughing, which was well earned.

“À propos of revolution,” said Joly, “it is decidedly abberent that Barius is in lub.”

“Does any one know with whom?” demanded Laigle.

“Do.”

“No?”

“Do! I tell you.”

“Marius’ love affairs!” exclaimed Grantaire. “I can imagine it. Marius is a fog, and he must have found a vapor. Marius is of the race of poets. He who says poet, says fool, madman, Tymbræus Apollo. Marius and his Marie, or his Marion, or his Maria, or his Mariette. They must make a queer pair of lovers. I know just what it is like. Ecstasies in which they forget to kiss. Pure on earth, but joined in heaven. They are souls possessed of senses. They lie among the stars.”

Grantaire was attacking his second bottle and, possibly, his second harangue, when a new personage emerged from the square aperture of the stairs. It was a boy less than ten years of age, ragged, very small, yellow, with an odd phiz, a vivacious eye, an enormous amount of hair drenched with rain, and wearing a contented air.

The child unhesitatingly making his choice among the three, addressed himself to Laigle de Meaux.

“Are you Monsieur Bossuet?”

“That is my nickname,” replied Laigle. “What do you want with me?”

“This. A tall blonde fellow on the boulevard said to me: ‘Do you know Mother Hucheloup?’ I said: ‘Yes, Rue Chanvrerie, the old man’s widow;’ he said to me: ‘Go there. There you will find M. Bossuet. Tell him from me: “A B C”.’ It’s a joke that they’re playing on you, isn’t it. He gave me ten sous.”

“Joly, lend me ten sous,” said Laigle; and, turning to Grantaire: “Grantaire, lend me ten sous.”

This made twenty sous, which Laigle handed to the lad.

“Thank you, sir,” said the urchin.

“What is your name?” inquired Laigle.

“Navet, Gavroche’s friend.”

“Stay with us,” said Laigle.

“Breakfast with us,” said Grantaire.

The child replied:—

“I can’t, I belong in the procession, I’m the one to shout ‘Down with Polignac!’”

And executing a prolonged scrape of his foot behind him, which is the most respectful of all possible salutes, he took his departure.

[nymerias-heart]

For the “let arya be ugly” crowd:

If u don’t think Arya is conventionally pretty/beautiful …..that’s fine actually.

But there is literally no example of anyone (other than Sansa in a fit of anger and Jeyne+Sansa who bullied Arya) calling or referring to Arya as ugly.

So what is left?

Arya is plain.

Which is something u literally never see that crowd arguing for. They act like there is a spectrum of beauty where u are either beautiful or ugly and there’s no in-between. Which just isn’t true at all.

The thing about arya is that she literally has no defining feature that is ugly (unlike Brienne who has crooked teeth, giant lips, broken nose, facial scars, etc. or Shireen who has large ears, a square jutting jaw, half her face covered in greyscale, etc. or even with men like Toad who has “pig eyes” or Samwell who is overweight etc.). All these “ugly” characters are given specific features that make them ugly…but Arya doesn’t get this treatment.

She is only described as dirty and unkempt and that she had been mistaken for a boy as a child but these aren’t physical features (and once her hair started growing out when she was travelling with Sandor people started recognising her as a girl hence why he had to cut it short again or when Samwell also recognised her as girl in bravoos even though she was dirty then too ~> she no longer passes/will be able to pass as a boy which actually makes a lot of sense since she is growing up and her features are becoming less childlike and androgynous). You can say that Arya has a long face and that that is her ugly feature but even then it’s only been described as plain not ugly.

So u can make the argument that Arya is plain. But there is now evidence for u to say that she is ugly other than the words of two 12 year olds who bullied her and Arya herself who has low self esteem because of the bullying.

Another argument that I propose is this:

Arya is “borderline ugly”.

Recently I seen a video about beauty and people who are “borderline ugly” and I honestly think this is what best describes Arya AND Lyanna. Where certain people think they’re beautiful but others think their plain or even boyish.

Link to the video:

I think this is a category u can put Arya into, adult Arya definitely. Especially if u think she has a “wild” or “northern” beauty.

And lastly to all the people asking “Why are Arya stans so obsessed with her being pretty? Let her be ugly”

Daily DAILY I see some post on this topic, of some Arya Stan arguing with another Stan about this and I’m honestly so tired of it. Like there is literally nothing in the books that isn’t disputable or that says point blank that Arya is ugly (like we have with Brienne were people will literally go out of their way to call her ugly) She just isn’t. Arya being plain though is an entirely different argument, one that ye guys never (or very rarely) make.

So could u guys please stop constantly making these posts? Like u guys will literally make an entire post explaining how this 9-11 year old girl should be ugly and should only ever be told she’s ugly cause hey who cares about beauty is in the eye of the beholder let’s go see what the bullies had to say about her because theirs is the only opinion that matters.

But yet treat it as unquestionable truth that the 12-14 year old is the most beautiful person in the whole world (who is Also a child yet that never matters and it’s never wrong to call her pretty, it’s only wrong and disgusting when it’s Arya) and make posts about who she will seduce every man with just a flutter of her eyelashes🤮 because that’s what her mother and some pedophiles told her but yet adult Arya can never be seen as attractive by another person and will never be loved and will never have a family and will just sail away and die alone.

You then turn around and be like “oooh oh my god why are these weirdos so obsessed with how this child looks 😱” like u didn’t just make an entire post and this topic and engage in discourse on it. Like????? Am I the only one getting so frustrated with this??

Honestly I just see no point in arguing with these people anymore and I just really don’t want to see the Arya tag be constantly filled up with this argument but I get the frustration with them so we’re just left with stupid discourse that repeats itself every couple of weeks. 😩😩😩. Free us George.

[one-winged-dreams]

Bittersweet

ship: adriel x yakumo shinonome (crimson skies) source: code vein word count: 1109

I couldn't sleep last night so I wrote a fic instead. i took one of my sleep meds at the time so i'm glad it's not as incoherent as i was afraid it would be but boy howdy do i love me some angst.

tag list: @dearly-beeloved @adoredbyalatus @kylilah @dorothys-wife @the-sleeping-city

@dear-gambler @goldenworldsabound @sunstar-of-the-north @mahitosoulmate @faerie-circle-ships

The tradeoff from light pollution to unabated starlight was always a bittersweet sight to behold when one stepped out onto the terrace at night. It was a beautiful canvas of stars at the price of the city lights that used to make them seem so much dimmer. 

But now there were no lights, no more city to outshine them. Only the natural beauty of the cosmos as a backdrop. 

Bittersweet.

“I want to take a bath…” Adriel had said.

“By yourself or is that an invitation?” Yakumo had responded, light-hearted as usual.

It always took Adriel so long to get undressed, unbuckling, unfastening, unBELIEVABLE at how intricate his attire was.

When at last came the bodysuit, Yakumo was the one to pull the zipper down his back, leaving a shiver and one singular kiss to the back of his neck. 

Adriel’s glasses went carefully in their case.

They had just missed the sunset when they came out to the terrace hot spring, and maybe Yakumo had made a joke about how it was because Adriel had taken so long to get undressed. 

And maybe that made Adriel smile a little bit.

They sat next to each other in the water, close enough to mean something, far enough to make it more of a question than an outright statement.

“So you've been wanting to call me your boyfriend this whole time, huh?” Yakumo only half teased. More of a statement in itself. A way to air out the topic.

“I've… thought about it…” Adriel responded softly, hugging his knees. “Dreamed about it…”

Yakumo shot him a light-hearted but playful smile.

“Oh? And what did these dreams consist of?” He asked. “You can't just say something like that and not expect me to be curious.”

Adriel was quiet for a moment before speaking, his gaze fixed firmly on his lap. 

“I dreamt about… what it would have been like if we had met before… everything. Before…”

“Before we became Revenants,” Yakumo solemnly finished for him. 

Adriel simply nodded. 

More silence stretched on, accumulating a slight chill to it in the night air, the hot spring warm as it was doing little but not much to make it less cold.

“I would have… liked to go on dates with you,” Adriel finally spoke, the timbre of his voice's vibrations shaking off whatever cold the silence had accumulated. “To the park… To a Cafe… maybe see a movie or…” He trailed off, losing the mettle to dream any further in the waking hours where he was shackled by bitter reality.

“That… would have been nice,” Yakumo agreed with an attempt at a casual nod. 

It was quiet again for just a moment before Yakumo spoke all at once as if to make up for those lost seconds.

“I would have taken you on so many dates.” 

Adriel blinked in surprise at Yakumo, who suddenly seemed to find the night sky very interesting. 

“We would have gone to so many places. I would have taken you to do so many things. Shown you off to everyone.” Finally, he looked at Adriel. “I would have tried to make you smile until your cheeks hurt.”

Smiles from Adriel were hard to come by. A rare commodity, even from a guy as kind as he was.

But not impossible 

“I think that would have been… very easy for you.” Adriel’s tone and expression were ambiguous, but there wasn't exactly a lack of any smile whatsoever. 

“You think so, huh?” Yakumo chuckled, leaning his side against Adriel’s until his cheek rested against the top of his head.

The smile had broken any and all containment, small and fragile as it was.

“Mh… It seems to come easy to you even now,” came his soft reply. “I wonder… what kind of dates we would have gone on…”

Yakumo thoughtfully rubbed up and down Adriel’s opposite arm.

“I would have taken you to so many places,” he began. “I would have pulled out all the stops, opening doors for you, pulling out your chair, holding your hand.”

Adriel’s smile brightened a bit more as Yakumo's softened.

Yakumo paused and then hummed.

“... I would have bought you flowers.”

Adriel pulled away to look up at him in surprise.

“Flowers…?” He asked, his voice soft and almost breathless. As if the concept left him in disbelief. 

Yakumo simply nodded at him, giving a thoughtful gaze.

“Yeah. You're always wearing dark colors, I think you'd look pretty in something lighter. I would have gotten you a bouquet of white daisies.”

Seemingly surprised, for a moment Adriel just regarded him with wide eyes, a light blush tinting his cheeks. His gaze returned to his knees as his eyes softened in a melancholic fashion.

“I don't… really wear light colors all that often. Or at all anymore, really…” he mumbled before closing his eyes. “But... I had this pretty white sundress once. I liked to go to the park in it. When I wore it I felt... cute.”

Yakumo found the mental image of that quite indulgent. He hummed wistfully, a thoughtful smile on his face.

“I bet you were adorable. I'd have bought every damn daisy in the flower shop just to see you sitting there on a bench in your sundress, holding them in your arms and looking like a dream.”

Once again, Adriel paused, before suddenly burying his face in Yakumo's shoulder. 

“I think I would give anything to have been able to live that life with you…” he responded in a near whisper. 

Yakumo considered coaxing him away from that line of thinking. There wasn't any use getting caught up in what-ifs. All that mattered were the memories, the things that DID happen. All languishing in regret did was hurt in the long run.

But that image that had been conjured in his mind had taken root like so many flowers of idealism in his heart.

He buried his face in Adriel’s hair.

“Me too… I'd… want to be normal with you.”

The palpable type of silence returned, though the sound of the water around them seemed a bit more distant. At least for a moment. 

“But I'm… I'm glad I got to meet you in any life,” Adriel broke the silence entirely. “As long as I got to meet you… that's all I care about.”

Yakumo took a deep breath, the scent of Adriel’s hair a consolation for the melancholy that bubbled within him. After pressing a kiss to the top of Adriel’s head, he sighed.

“I'm glad… I met you too. No matter what life… I'd always want to meet you. I'd always want us to be together.”

[gigicreates562]

If I Die- Get it On Camera

Finnick and You go to what’s left of District 9 to shoot more propos for Coin, but you won’t both be coming home. 

TW: Hunger Games level violence, Blood, Death

WC: 1190

No use of Y/N

Authors note: sorry in advance

—-----------------

The brisk air tickled your nose as you walked through the rubble of District 9. The capital had shown little mercy on the factory workers after the riots, leaving nothing behind but charred walls and drifting ashes. Your eyes wandered over the smoking ruins, hopelessly scanning for survivors. The smokey air choked in your throat. You tried your best not to think about all the lives that had been lost here. 

“Come on, Coin said in and out,” Gale reminded you. Coin had requested more footage for the propos, but seeing as Katniss was still recovering from Peeta’s assassination attempt, you and Finnick were her next best options. So here you were, trudging through the debris. 

Finnick’s fingers squeezed tightly around yours, “You okay?” he whispered. His soft eyes met yours.

“Yeah,” you half-smiled in return. He nodded, seeming to understand.

“Let’s have you right here,” Cressida pointed. You followed her finger to a mostly standing alleyway just off to the left. 

Everyone began to move towards their respective positions when gunfire erupted from behind.

“Get down!” Boggs shouted. Everyone scrambled to safety. You felt Finnick’s hand guiding your shoulder. Following his lead, you sat down behind a broken wall and shielded your head with your hands. A short spurt of gunshots pierced your ears, stopping after a couple of seconds. 

A deadly silence fell over the air. 

“Stay here,” Boggs ordered as he crept into the now-settling dust. You sucked a breath in through your teeth and grabbed for Finnick’s hand. Together you braced for gunfire you hoped wouldn’t come. 

Luckily it didn’t, but the unsettling feeling in your stomach remained. You had felt this feeling twice before, once in your first games, and once in your second. Neither instance was a particularly happy memory.

“All clear,” you heard someone say. The others began to crawl out from hiding. You began to move as well, but for some reason, you just couldn’t make your legs stand.  

Finnick shifted to get up, keeping his eyes on the alley for potential danger. A shiver spread throughout your body, and were you lightheaded? What was wrong with you? You’d been through the games twice, and you’d never crumbled under pressure before. You had always- Oh. Oh. Your eyes sank down, beholding a dampness spreading in your jacket. The thick black material masked the color of the substance, but your intuition told you all you needed to know. 

“Let’s get this filmed and leave,” Boggs ordered Cressida, and once again everyone began to get set.

“Finnick,” you called out faintly. At the sound of your voice, he stopped and turned to you. One look at your face caused goosebumps all over. His brow furrowed as he rushed over to your side. At the sudden movement, the rest of the group’s attention shifted over to you. 

Finnick took your hands into his. You hadn’t even noticed you were trembling until he grabbed them. Tears clouded your vision as you glanced downwards, too afraid to confirm your thoughts for yourself. Finnick swallowed heavily as he moved his hands to your zipper. Cautiously guiding it down, he revealed exactly what you were afraid of. 

“Oh my god,” His voice cracked out, “We need a medic, please!” The blood already covered most of your abdomen. The metallic tang of it punched you in the nose, stirring your stomach. A soldier appeared at your side, frantically tending to your wound, but you were disinterested. You couldn’t really feel it anymore anyway. You were more focused on the boy in front of you with panic laced in his expression.

“Finn-” You whispered and his hand came to your face. 

“You’re okay sweetheart, you’re okay,” he comforted you, sweetly caressing your cheek. His eyes searched your face up and down, begging for a sign that you were okay. In your peripheral vision, you saw a camera raise.

Before you flew out you had both told Cressida, If we die, get it on camera, and show everyone exactly what the capitol does to their victors. You figured he might play it up for the camera, but you could tell by his eyes. He wasn’t acting.

“Stay with me, alright? Just look up here,” he soothed. Both his hands cradled your cheeks now, attempting to keep all your focus on him.

Beams of sun hit the blonde curls falling lightly over his forehead. He really was beautiful, even in a time like this. You smiled softly up at him, if you were going to die, you were glad he would be the last thing you would see. 

“Honey, stay with me. You’re not going to die, I won’t let you.” He pressed a hot kiss into your brow, still holding your face with his soft hands. 

“Finn,” you hushed his anxieties as a tear rolled down your cheek, “It’s okay.” You smiled sadly. His eyes frantically combed your expression, not understanding how you were so calm.

Your heartbeat slowed in your ears as your limbs grew heavy. Little black blurs crept into the edges of your vision. It didn’t take a genius to know what would happen next. You know that you should be freaking out, but for some reason you weren’t scared. An overwhelming calm had settled into your skin. It felt like the waves back home. That feeling when the sun kissed your cheeks while the salty water lapped at your toes. You could practically see Finnick’s cheeky smile staring back at you from across the beach. After a lifetime of hunting and being hunted, you finally felt at peace.  

Finnick’s pleas brought you back to reality, “Stop it. Please don’t leave me,” his lip quivered. He was crying now too. It was evident by his face that his thoughts were racing. You only hoped that he would feel peace like this one day too. 

A sad smile crept onto your lips, heart aching for your lover. Tenderly, you pulled his chin down to press his shaky lips against yours. They were swollen and chapped, perfectly Finnick. A glowing warmth spread through your chest to your fingertips. Whether it was from the kiss or the blood loss you weren’t sure, but you chose to believe the former. Your body tingled as you felt one of his hot teardrops hit your cheek and slide away. That’s the last thing you remember before the world went dark.

He pulled away from the kiss slowly, his heart wrenching as your body went limp against him. Trembling, he shook you lightly, a last-ditch effort to keep you with him. 

“I’m sorry,” He wept, clutching your head to him, “I’m so so sorry.”

The medic began to pack away his things, “No! Please! Help her!” He screamed, desperately looking around for anyone to help. Instead, he was met with a crowd of sympathetic eyes.

Finnick clung to your body as he pressed his face into your hair. The cameras stopped at the command of Cressida. Your death may be broadcasted all over the districts, but his grief was too personal to share. The group mourned for you in privacy as Finnick wept by your side. 

[wendigoruble]

Franco/Eddie drabble

Tags: @ramontism

This was meant to be part of the Baby Boy and Mommy series, but I just feel stuck?? And I really liked how this sequence turned out.

=========

The amount of blood in the hallway is almost astonishing, even by Franco's standard. It looks like whoever caused this massacre somehow managed to explode people from the inside out. The tiles of the floor are barely visible and the walls have a thick coating. The smell of iron drifts up through the air and at least it's familiar.

“Watch your step,”Eddie sing-songs,”Looks like it just rained.”

Franco rolls his eyes but nevertheless holds on to Eddie's hand tighter as he steps onto the sticky puddle. It soaks into the pale white fabric in a most uncomfortable way, he sneers and sighs deeply.

At this point he doesn't know how long he's been stuck in this position. Lupara has been out of his control for what feels like years but is more realistically a few months. This bastard freak of a man has been toting him around the asylum calling him ‘baby’ every chance he gets and it makes his blood boil every time. He makes Franco feel so small, useless, beneath him. For God's sake he's in stitched together footie pajamas made from lord knows what! This is embarrassing, it's disgusting! And he has every reason to trip and bust Eddie's head open on the slick floor. He has every reason to shove him into the wall until he stops moving.

He doesn't know why he doesn't. He hates this guy with every fiber of his being and desperately wants to get his gun back and leave him a torn up bleeding mess. Even as he looks at him now he can picture breaking him down the same way he was broken down. Watching him bleed and squirm as he realizes his baby boy is a grown ass man that can-

“What are you looking at?”

“..Lookin’ at your dumbass fuckin’ face.”

“I thought we had a talk about that kind of language, my baby.”

“Fuck off.” Franco looks forward once more.

There's a brief pause before Eddie tightens his grip on the other man's hand. Yanking his arm and causing Franco to grit his crooked teeth to not show any pain. He nearly fumbles and trips over his own feet because of it.

“The fuck you trying to do!?”

“You stumbled, babies will stumble. It isn't my fault you're still learning to walk.”

That makes something snap.

“I AIN'T STILL LEARNIN’ TO WALK!” Franco yells as he yanks his arm out of Eddie's grip,”CALLIN’ ME A FUCKIN BABY, I AIN'T A BABY! THINK YOU'RE A BIG MAN HUH!?”

He dodges a swipe before kicking Eddie square in the groin. It makes the other man fall to his knees, groaning in pain. Now that's a satisfying sight to behold. This piece of scum succumbing to the ache is like eating a nice sweet candy. Takes Eddie by his shoulders and knees him in the face, giving his ‘caretaker’ a lovely bloody, possibly broken, nose.

“Yo-you..” Eddie sputters out.

“Not so fucking big now, are you!? NOT SO BIG NOW UH!? Look at you, fuckin bleeding and holding that limp dick'a yours. Oh you gonna cry now'ah?”

Eddie coughs, spitting up blood as his eyes water. He pushes himself up with one arm but he can't seem to bring himself to stand. Good. The disbelief on his face is clear as day. Thank god Lupara is hidden away right now. Franco takes him by the shoulders again and stares him in the eye. His hands grip tight onto the sewn fabric of the dirty vest.

“Ohhh scared? Of a little baby?” He mocks,”Waaahh!! Waaahh cry ya fuckin bitch whore! Cry me a goddamn river! Waaaahhh!”

With one more swift knee to the gut Franco let's Eddie fall to the ground. The satisfaction of seeing this man crumpled up in pain is immeasurable. Could even be enough to get him up really. He steps back with a soft chuckle as he turns and begins walking away. Venturing further off into the asylum on his own while he revels in his victory. More of a half victory perhaps, as he didn't kill Eddie. More or less he just incapacitated him for the time being.

Giving him an out.

Giving himself an in.

[notoverjoyed]

Behold! My fill for Ectoberhaunt Day 10: Meteorology. I'll post anything I write for this year to A03 at some point, but for now, here's a quick bit featuring everyone's favorite weatherman.

Summary: The first ghost sightings in Amity Park had occurred less than a month ago, and the city’s TV news organization has decided that ghost sightings fell under the category of weather. Local weatherman Lance Thunder was not involved in this decision.

Warnings: None

“No no no no noooo,” Lance Thunder whines into the microphone as he huddles amid the chaos fallen on Amity Park. Something green and glowing flies low overhead and he crouches even farther. His camera man crouches nearby. He’s far more collected than Lance, keeping his camera focused on the weatherman’s face throughout the whole ordeal.

Looking up cautiously, Lance sees the camera pointed toward him with it’s red light still blinking live and schools his face into something resembling calm.

“La-Lance Thunder here,” he says shakily. “With you here today on the scene of yet another attack on our fair city by so called ghosts!” His voice raises to a shrill yell, and he clears his throat before continuing.

“Downtown Amity Park between 2nd and 6th avenues is currently closed due to the incursion, and all those in the area are encouraged to shelter in place until further notice.”

“Aaand now-” he voice breaks off as he ducks under another specter swooped down. “And now to you, Tiffany, please.” His calm facade stays for a moment, waiting for the all clear. The camera man shoots him a thumbs up and the red light on the camera turns off. Lance shudders, and sinks to the ground. Half a block away a white glowing figure narrowly avoids slamming into the street as they shoots green rays from their hands at the ghosts.

He stays huddled there for several minutes as the fight moves down the street. The camera man stands and keeps taking video until the fight moves out of sight entirely.

Several more minutes pass, and Lance raises his head slowly. The sounds of fighting have faded, and people are wandering back outside from wherever they had taken shelter

“Oh god,” he says with a strained voice as he sees the cracked concrete surrounding him, still kneeling.

“You okay man?” asks a young male voice behind him.

“Uhhhh, yeah?” Lance says as he turns his head and sees a vaguely familiar black haired boy holding a thermos.

“You sure?” the boy says. He seems concerned for Lance, but he’s wearing a smile. Something satisfied, like he’d accomplished something.

“Yeah,” Lance says as he stands. Shards of concrete pour off his pants as rises. “Aren’t you that Fenton kid.” he says.

The smile slides right off the kids face. “Nope” he says quickly, then, “What’s that over there!”

Lance and the camera man turn their head to see, but there’s nothing to see but the broken street.

He turns back to ask the boy what he’s talking about, only to see he’s disappeared. Lance drops his head and scowls. “Motherfucking ghosts,” he mutters to the ground.

A minute passes as Lance contemplates the choices that led him to where he his now.

“Sooo, back to the van?” the camera man asks, interrupting his glowering. Sighing Lance nods, and starts trudging back to where they’d parked the news van. Hopefully it’s still on one piece.

[trashedanatomy]

Spinaraki week day three! : Horizon

I decided to do a mix of art and writing for this week so here is the first fic :>

Tomura gasped as his legs lost balance, his crutch falling out of his grip to the side, squinting his eye shut he braced for impact, using his one undamaged arm to shield his face. “Hmph!” Tomura eyes opened, widening looking down at the floor he nearly hit. A scaled arm braced him at his chest, a clawed hands grabbing a hold of his shoulder. Spinner pulled him up slowly, his hands still gripped tightly on the man beside him. “Boss, you alright?” Spinner’s expression looked genuine with concern as Tomura raised his head to gaze at the scaled man.  

“Yeah I’m alright,” Tomura cleared his throat, Tomura attempted to regain his balance, his gaze shifting around the floor trying to find his lost crutch with no avail. His arm being poked was what startled him out for his search, Spinner’s tail poking against his skin, his crutch hanging on the limb. “Oh. . Thank you,” Tomura thanked him, grabbing the crutch back, sliding it off his tail. 

“Yeah, glad to. . want me to help ya’ to your room?” Spinner’s head pressed closer, trying to get a better look at Tomuras expression. The other nodded, seemingly deciding to keep quiet. Spinner huffed a sigh as he slid his arm across the others back, steadily walking beside Tomura. The Corridors were long and quite sumptuous compared to their past abandoned warehouses and motels. They would be covered in grime infested with pests and roaches. Cobwebs would decorate every corner and crevice, often times the league would have to sleep in these places due to it being unsafe to even travel back to their homes. His place wasn’t that much better anyways, half the time he couldn’t pay the utility bills, and only the rent. Leaving his place freezing, and dark. 

His attention turned back to Tomura who slowly walked with him, the others face was simple yet warm. He didn’t look annoyed nor happy, just perusing on as he used his crutch in long strides. Tomura was covered head to toe in bandages, his arm and leg were practically shattered, bandages wrappers around his forehead, from cracks and injuries that were implemented on him a few days back, during the fight from Redestro. Spinner thought back to the instance, the battle, the fight between his leader and the Bulged-out hulk. Though he more on focused on the Horizon he saw at the end of it, how he saw Tomura, standing above the other, his stance strong, his will endearing . . he saw a crumbling horizon...it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

Spinner wanted to talk to Tomura, wanted to tell him of the horizon he saw how he felt, how he wanted to follow the other to the end of time. He would, he really would, Tomura was amazing. His mission was true and Spinner wanted to follow him at every damn turn the man would make. He remembered seeing a little boy trying to catch his dreams in Tomuras eyes, now he knew that he would and he would be behind him as the man conquered his dreams. When Tomura stood in the huge crater he had cultivated, the dent of which he put his mark when defeating Redestro, dust and Debre scattered about the air. Spinners eyes were glazed, his heart beating fast and hard His body ached, His arm hung limp, blood pouring out of the wound deeply imbedded in the limb. Every ounce of pian seeming to alleviate as he stared at the figure in the center of his vision. Tomura was heaving, Spinner could see his body rise and fall with each breath the man took, his hair was now a cream white, the length seeming to be more obvious with the new pallet, His legs and arm were bloody and a vibrant purple from how bruised and broken they had become. Yat still, he had a crazy smile, grinning like a mad man, his tooth gap visible. It was a sight to behold, one Thet Spinner kept replaying in his mind, he felt every ache, he could recall how his mind scattered at his new muse.“Tomura?” 

Shigaraki's attention turned back to Spinner, his eyes widening at the use of his first name. Spinner's brows were furrowed his lips of sorts, quivering slightly, His eyes avoiding Tomura. “Yes . . Shuichi?” Spinners eyed widened even more, finally meeting the others gaze by the name.  

“I wanted to uhm. . Talk to you about something” His bit onto his bottom lip, his words trying to gather but all they did was tangle within each other. He looked away again, back to the pathway Infront of them, encountering a set of stairs. Slowly he helped lift Tomura onto the first step, then himself, a steady pattern to keep both of them steady. His eyes stayed focus on the others footwork, careful to not allow the other to trip. “I wanted to talk about the uhm, the fight in Deika? Right once you succeeded against-” 

“The Final boss? AKA Redestro,” Tomura cut off, humming slightly as he heaved another step. Spinner gulped, attempting to regain his own line of thoughts that he could attempt to muster out of his quivering mouth. “Well final boss of that level,” The man added on, though leaving out an explanation. Spinner knew what he meant though. 

“Yeah, yeah, I wanted to talk about what I saw. .” He hummed between his words, nervous about it all. “You standing there. .  In the center you know, after the boss battle, it was. . It was fucking. . Beautifull, a beautiful horizon I mean. I could finally really see your goal, And I could finally know how to follow it. It was a lot, really, I was fucking aching and a mess, I was all banged up but All I could focus on was you, how you stood there with no mercy and a crazed grin on your face, even with all the worse injuries you sustained yourself. Even seeing Gigantomachia kneel down, It was a sign of power, and I know how you joke around using king as a descriptive to yourself. .but I see you as one, I see you as someone who could rule the whole of Japan and more as a king, and I would be you know, a knight of sorts. . not a strong one of course but. .Really I’m just saying the scene was magnificent and I want to be there once you defeat the true final boss,” The man gulped, his ramble coming to an end as he waited for the other to reply. Tomura looked unchanging, but Spinner knew that that couldn’t actually be the case.  

They finished the stairs, walking down a new hall, only a bit away the master bedroom which Tomura now occupies. The man stayed silent, he only looked forward, his crutch still making long strides as he huffed. Spinner chooses to silence himself to.  He said what he wanted his words were finally knotted into a cringe speech which he would dread for the rest of time, his only wish being Tomuras come true, and with him behind his friend. Tomura let go of the crutch, leaning it against his side as he reached for the doorknob, turning it. Opening the door he looked back at Shuichi, who finally moved his arm away stood behind him, biting his inner cheek as his arms hung limp at his sides. “So. . I leveled up in intimidation. . and also, likeability from colleagues? Thats great for the long run. .” Tomura hummed, walking through the door way before looking back at the other. “I will make the horizon for you. I promise I won't disappoint you Shuichi,” Tomura assured, another smile forming, one not crazed but soft and warm. Spinners eyes glistening at the lovely sight. “Till then, lets focus on leveling up our relation. . Thats also great for the end game you know?” Spinner heart faltered, nearly stopping as he was pulled into the room.  - I'm not the best writer -.-"

[musedblues]

More Than Words

(photo edits by @pitfulbaby_ on insta)

a/n: this is my personal rockstar!eddie dream, suspend your disbelief and enjoy this wild ride where eddie is no more and no less than a rock and roll icon. all credit goes to my wifey girl @joemazzmatazz , she has not only been majorly responsible for the birth of this idea but incredibly encouraging at my taking over bringing this fic to life.

warnings: sex, drugs and rock and roll baby. MINORS DON'T READ this fic has it allllllll.

///

To Corroded Coffin, you were a pseudo sibling, a reluctant roadie- the only friend who seemed to earn a stable spot on the sofa in their dirty garage turned rehearsal studio. And that was just the way you liked it.

It all started when their singer, Lonnie, cornered you outside of Mr. Clarke's class and begged you to film the bands appearance at the middle school talent show. They lost the competition, but won your heart that evening. Through the rest of that school year and the summer that followed, you'd watched the band evolve through the lense of your family's old super 8.

Filming the band's sets and offering the help make flyers for the local gigs they managed to score became your favorite past time. Because of this, Corroded Coffin dubbed you the bands guardian angel- but only after you alerted the drummer that his girlfriend was shagging the guitarist. So Drew broke it off with the girl and sent the six string traitor packing, and you offered to help find his replacement.

That month of auditions felt never ending and more hopeless with each passing wannabe rocker. Until Eddie.

Eddie Munson waltzed into that dirty old garage like he owned the place, playing his guitar before even speaking a word. The way he showed off surprised you. He'd been obviously outspoken in school, but the confidence he oozed behind his instrument was a sight to behold. And he was the best damn guitarist any of you'd heard... maybe ever. Without much discussion, the band started to jam. Ben picked up his bass and Lonnie started scatting out a melody and by the time they'd managed to make a song out of their messing about, it was the best Corroded Coffin had ever sounded.

The band asked you what you thought, each of them grinning when your head nodded in approval. Eddie was asked to join forces with the other players and at the end of it all, you were introduced as their guardian angel. It was a dumb ass joke, but one that wouldn't die. And though you protested the use of the nickname, it stuck.

It made sense, though. You were the one setting up amps and driving the sons of bitches across state lines to help land gigs to earn them some exposure. You were the one paying more than half the rent in your eventual sharde flat, so the boys could spend their earnings making music as professionally as possible. You were the one chucking beer cans back at hicks who tossed them the bands way, mid set. (Indiana was really not the scene for the metal group) Lonnie had to jump off stage to stop you from fist fighting a bulky drunken lumberjack, one evening.

Each of the boys owed you a lot. And you believed their music would become successful enough to count as pay back, one day. But despite having known him for a much shorter time than the others, Eddie most often sought the protection of the angel wings the others insisted you owned.

It was no secret that you thought the world of him. After a gig that paid the band in kegs of beer; you got drunk enough to tell Eddie he was the only guitarist you approved of joining the band because he was talented and cute, and he became endeared to you all the while. Not in the way you'd hoped, but he learned he could trust you all the same.

"Since you think I'm so dreamy, would you do me a favor, angel?" Eddie would bat his lashes and beg you to help him pass the test that finally got him to graduate. With the pout of his lip, he got you to help him make an extensive budget; or fix a broken pair of glasses he'd sometimes worn but never dared told anyone else he had to. Because you'd been transparent about your admiration for the guy, he began to trust you with his own secrets.

"You know my story." Eddie spoke in confidence one evening. "I've always been made to feel like such an outcast. I'm just worried that no matter how hard I try I'll still be the weirdo everyone loves to hate. And I don't want that to be what this band is known for. I don't want to mess this up."

And in turn, you'd said...

"Well, everyone who shows up for the music will see how much you love it. And they'll fall head over heels for you without even thinking. I am speaking from personal experience, of course." You both laughed and the guitarist thanked you for the pep talk that night, and for all the help you so selflessly continued to provide the band.

Eventually, all your hard work started to pay off. The recordings you'd captured of the bands every gig were finally picked up by the right local producer at the right time. The business man agreed to finance a real recording session for Corroded Coffin.

The release of that EP didn't make a big difference in the small town of Hawkins, but the single got air time by way of the capital city's most beloved underground radio station. Over the next year, Corroded Coffin went from selling out pubs in the city, to selling out auditoriums in the tristate area. The producer insisted on helping the band make a bona fide debut album, and the rest was history.

///

The band had fled your shared flat, leaving the space feeling void, and the rent looming over your head. They were four months into a European tour that was only just getting started. And everytime Ben rang home to insist on sending money back to help keep the lights on; the bassist revealed new tour dates kept getting added to the already lengthy schedule. You weren't surprised to hear it.

Corroded Coffin was usually always on the radio stations you favored. Their posters decorated record store walls and the windows of odd coffee houses. Their album was usual sold out in every place it was available to purchase. The band of boy's you'd grown to adore were becoming the rest of the music world's favorite group as well. Pride bloomed in your chest more fiercely each time their one and only music video looped through MTV.

When your phone clattered against the holder, and you knew it was them. No one else ever called. So when all you heard on the other line were guitars being tuned for a split second, you weren't surprised... Until the bands manager started to speak.

"Are you looking for extra work, this summer?" His gravel voice wondered in an accent you could never quite place. 

"You know I would love nothing more than to quit my 9 to 5, Tony." You laughed, unsure if he did know. You'd barely interacted the bands new manager. Tony swooped in out of nowhere, promised the band the moon, and ushered them off on tour in the matter of two short months. You met him once at the airport when you dropped the lads off, before driving Eddie's van back to Hawkins.

"Good! Listen to this..." Tony went on to explain that Corroded Coffin were making plans for the future. The band had made big promises to MTV and to their record label about a second album and documentary. "The boys want you to film it." 

"Can't... shouldn't MTV handle that?" 

"MTV will. The band want the majority of the footage to feel familiar, like watching an old home movie. They tell me you've got just the equipment.  And old footage we can use, too, so it'll all blend together well. You'll work with MTV's crew. We're pushing the 'small town boys make it really really big' angle." 

Tony went on to promise you more money than you've ever had in your life, and even got Drew on the line to confirm this was not a prank. Your life changed in one fifteen minute phone call. But just how much was yet to be determined...

///

You arrived in a French airport with two precariously packed bags and a bundle of nerves growing with every step. Since when were you so anxious about meeting up with your oldest friends? The place was packed with travelers, shuffling every which way. Tony stood waiting for you, his lanky arms opened in a welcoming fashion as you hurried to meet him near a luggage carousel. At his side was the MTV rep you'd be working alongside to make Corroded Coffin's documentary come to life.

After a moment of going over the game plan for the next few months and complaining a bit about your flight, Tony showed you down a noticeably more sparse hall. Only a few people shuffled by before you spotted them- the boys in the band you'd known so well.

"Tony! We came looking for you! Take off is soon." Drew called out, his ashy blonde curls grown down to his waist, longer than ever. As Tony started plodding with more purpose, the band kept walking your way, picking up their own pace to greet you.

Ben lifted you from the ground in an embrace, and you worried aloud over how skinny he'd become. Lonnie and Drew ruffled your hair before chivalrously taking your bags to carry toward the plane. As they turned to walk in the correct direction, Eddie was the last to emerge before you. His smile was coquettish, like he knew something he couldn't wait to tell you. His elbows stayed near his sides as he raised both hands to invite you into a lazy but well meaning hug. His hair was a mess, and the circles under his eyes made you wonder if he'd slept at all since the tour started.

"Hey, you kind of look like shit." You smiled, glad to see the guy even if he was looking a little rough. Eddie didn't embrace you as expected, but planted both of his extended hands on either side of your head.

"Coming from you, angel, that really stings." Eddie's grin grew wider before he placed a kiss to the crown of your head. "But I needed to hear it." You took note of the exhaustion in his tone, despite Eddie's efforts to save face.

"Well, you better clean up your act before I catch you looking such a wreck on my camera." As you spoke, you couldn't help but brush a strand of matted hair from Eddie's forehead- missing the way he'd let you dote on him before every show. "Be my mirror, kid." He'd ask, knowing fully well you'd take any opportunity to stare a little more intently at the guy.

Now; he agreed to follow your orders as he flung an arm around your shoulder- leading you down the hall a few feet behind everyone else. 

The group shuffled quickly outdoors, where you were less surprised to find a private jet idoling than you were by a horde of fans anxiously corralled behind a gate. A guard stood by as the swarm hollered at the sight of the band, collectively reaching toward them. How'd that many people even get back here, you wondered? The boys in the band waved but seemed unaffected by the chaos as they hurried on the jet. As you loaded in and processed how quickly everything was already happening, everyone found seats and settled. Cracking open books and pouring drinks to pass the time. Eddie, however, crashed right at your side and let his head hit your shoulder- his eyes closing as he fell into an immediate sleep.

"He hasn't slept since Glasgow." Tony chuckled in the seat across from you, pointing to the passed out guitarist. "Was beginning to wonder if he ever would again."

///

The next row of days and nights were a blur. You spent every second trying to keep up the pace that Corroded Coffin seemed to be used to now, running onto stages and dashing out of the grasp of the fans that seemed to be waiting around every corner. The shows Corroded Coffin put on were dazzling, and it never failed to raise an emotion within you to see them all take charge of such a massive opportunity. To hear their music pulse through venues. To see the dream playing out in real time.

The MTV rep and yourself had found a way of working together decently. He'd talk to the band between shows, film the things your little old super 8 couldn't quite capture. And you'd filmed just about everything else, because just about everything Corroded Coffin did was remarkable to the people around them- charming. 

Eddie would reach into the front row of every other audience and grab a hand close enough to kiss a set of knuckles- sending the sea of the other thousands into bombastic cheers. Drew would stand on tabletops and scale fountains and laugh brightly enough to steer authority figures away from too harshly reprimanding him. Lonnie would turn interviews into parties, making sure camera men and assistance were supplied with beer cans and insisting radio hosts spin Metallica records in the middle of Q&A's. Ben would try and keep the peace but could be caught smirking through the chaos all the same.

Then came the autograph signing at a record store in Monaco. The business shut its doors for a half hour to let the boys do some shopping in peace, keeping out a swarm of fans that chanted and cheered to be let in. You recorded your friends froliking through the asiles and picking out stacks of vinyl to claim for their own, winking at fans through the windows every now and again. They certainly were getting used to all the attention, something they usually only ever received negatively back home.

Just before the doors were opened, you set your camera down and tried to enjoy the time with your friends as just that, looking over records all the same as them. You'd found a vinyl, the only one your favorite band had released that you didn't already own. Eddie noticed your excitement, and without a word he plucked the record from your grasp and added it to his own pile at the register-  mentioning something about listening to everything later in his room on his portable player. 

It was a swoon-worthy gesture, but one that left an ache in your heart all the while. You knew there would never be time to sit and listen to any of this music, even if Eddie had hoped there would be. The band had no second of peace, there were always a place to be, people waiting. The band was given only a moments notice before the record store doors opened and you were left filming the mob shoving posters in the boy's hands to sign.

///

In a private booth of some elegant restaurant in Barcelona, the once long-suffering band had fully morphed into unabashed attention whores. Drew sat with a model under each of his arms, Lonnie was tracking down local reporters to woo, and you were sat back soaking it all in. By now, the scene was familiar, but it hit you all at once that perhaps it was the new normal way of things. Grown suddenly a little exhausted by that point, you wished hopelessly for a weekend to yourself, for an afternoon with a book in your lap and no planes to worry about catching. But the only vacation from this scene that you'd kept reliving was a trip to the bar top by yourself. 

You'd stood next to a nice enough guy who started getting a little too handsy. Alas, your pseudo vacation was soiled. You were working on slithering away from the stranger when Eddie appeared. You noticed by his saunter the guitarist was hammered. 

"Hey fuck off, buddy." Eddie smiled with fire in his gaze, moving to push the handsy stranger even further away than you'd managed to nudge him. There was slur in your friends voice so noticeable that you wondered how he was even functioning right now. It was then you realized Eddie had your camera in his grasp. 

"You're always behind this thing. S'your turn to be in front!" He declared, taking a step back to point the lense at you. And of course you were in no state to be filmed, dirty hair pulled back, your clothes wrinkled by travel. And anyway he was wasting space you were getting paid to film him.

"Okay, pal." You managed to gently yank your device from Eddies grasp and steady his inebriated wobble all the while. In the same moment he mumbled in wonder what drink you had in your grasp, some girl came up to him ask for an autograph. The guitarist let his grin grow wickedly slow as the shy young thing held a pen in his direction. The guy nearly knocked it out of her hand as he grossly agreed to sign anything she'd wanted. 

"You're a mess." You huffed a small laugh, making sure he heard you before you decidedly saw yourself out of Eddie's line of chaos. You were instead off to find Ben. He'd surly do shots with you, and manage to maintain a conversation worth while. Even if you had to tolerated his new groupie girlfriend, with an impossibly shrill voice that never stopped chattering. 

By the time you'd found the pair, you learned that Ben had proposed to this newfound love of his and the two had made plans to get married in the next city. You offered to order celebratory shots, but only drank to dull the ever growing ache in your head.

///

At the next backstage green room, you sat fidgeting with your camera, trying to decide if you should film Lonnie attempting to apply eyeliner or not. It made his dark eyes pop, but he was so sloppy with the process. Eddie was near, fretting over his stage outfit. How could he choose between a flannel and ripped jeans or a ripped up shirt, and the same ratty fucking jeans?

"Does this look alright?" Eddie stood before you with a grimace, in the a different version of the same kind of outfit he'd been so hung up on. You paused to consider his change of clothes, but then he spoke again before you could.

"If I don't look good enough to make you blush, angel, I'm doin' something wrong."

"Dude. You look fine." You laughed, and this was not the right answer apparently, as he stormed toward the corner of the room, leafing through the wardrobe wrack again. It was then and there in the middle of the bloody green room that Edward Munson dropped his jeans to the ground in favor of a shiny leather pair. 

It was an olympic feat to hide your fluster in that moment; hoping you looked as nonchalant as possible while deciding to finally film Lonnie's attempt at eyeliner. But the singer wasn't about to let you off that easy...

"Will you two ever just bone and get it over with?" Your friend gave a wicked grin to your camera and you moved it away in a hurry to catch his eye with your frustrated gaze. 

"It's hard to film you lot being funny when you act like such a dick, Lonnie." You huffed, hopping your face didn't look as hot as it felt. The singer only chuckled at your disconcert in that annoying brotherly sort of way that had you thanking God you hadn't had to grow up with these boys as your actual siblings- shuddering to think how they'd up the ante of humiliation on a day to day basis.

The band was promptly ushred to the stage then, a welcomed change of pace. As Corroded Coffin kicked off a show that sent a thousand fans roaring, you stood with a racing mind at the side of the stage. Hadn't the boys moved passed teasing you like that? When Eddie joined the band, there were a few long months of torture, the boys razzing every time Eddie got you to blush. But eventually there were no more jokes to make. So the boys settled for smiles under the rolling of eyes- their only attempt at taking the piss out of your dynamic with the guitarist. 

You watched on the boys share nods and wordless connection as they brought their music to life. And you watched as Eddie shot winks to the front row while he shredded away. That's what he did. Everyone was used to it by now, Eddie's flirting. But you couldn't get over why Lonnie dared to say what he'd said, an hour before. You decided it couldn't matter as much as you wanted it too, and managed all the while to get lost dancing to the music.

///

In the middle of that last show, Eddie had stumbled a bit but brushed off the near fall with a smile that endeared the masses into cheering his name. You'd always known he was charming, but to observe such waves of people showering him in such never ending adoration was still pretty wild to process. In fact, the audience seemed possessed by lust, blinded to Corroded Coffin's little setbacks that kept happening that show. No mishap upended the performance by any means; but you couldn't help but notice how Drew fumbled to find another pair of drumsticks and the way Lonnie paused to breath a little longer between songs.

The next morning welcomed a long awaited scheduled set of days off, as to not completely burn out the band. But it all seemed too late when Eddie woke up worse for wear. Tony pounded on your door loud enough to wake you and demand you take some of the painkillers you kept on hand down the hall to the guitarist. As the manager went to phone a doctor, you scurried to knock on Eddie's door. The faint groan he responded with was answer enough for you to see yourself in. The guy was slumped over in bed, looking dead to the world.

"I'm dyin'. Can you play guitar? Someone will have to replace me the rest of this tour." He croaked, not bothering to move from the mess of blankets he was nearly face down against.

"Would some of these keep you alive for a couple more days?" You rattled the pill bottle and stood against the wall nearest his bed, watching Eddie turn to squint up at you.

"You know I can't see that far." He huffed, turning his face back to whine into the pillows.

"Im sure if you wore your secret glasses you're head wouldn't hurt as much. And I'm sure if you ever consumed something more than whiskey for dinner you'd feel less shitty in general." You listed, opening the bottle and moving to sit at the side of the bed to hand the pills to the pitiful guitarist.

Eddie slowly turned to face you, taking the painkillers with a pout. He grumbled a thank you and you let him know that Tony had phoned a doctor, because no precaution was too over the top when it came to making sure the rockstar would be able to get back on another stage in 42 hours time. You insisted Eddie rest until then, and decidedly got up to find your own peace for the day.

As you left the room, you saw Drew worriedly waiting for life or death news in his opened door way. When you informed the drummer that you were sure Eddie was just exhausted, the guy laughed in relife, and thanked you for coming along. Claiming the band would legitimately fall to bits without you around to glue things in sensible place. You invited the guy to the lodge gardens where you planned to help yourself to some lunch, but he decided resting the day away was in order for himself as well.

You found solace in the fact that the band was spending the day taking some kind of care of themselves, something you hadn't seen done in the month and a half you spent on the road with them. And your excitement grew when you realized today you could finally do the same. After cleaning up and choosing a book as your companion, you ordered some food and took it to the lush gardens of the elaborate Italian lodge. There were few other residents that crossed your marble laid path, but the place was so massive it didn't shock you to realize there were ample opportunities to find privacy in public.

You placed your plate on a small garden table and settled into a cushioned iron chair, appreciating the afternoon breeze and birdsong you'd been longing for. A stark contrast to the grimey backstages and buzzing of amps you'd been used to. After a few chapters and most of your meal had gone with the hours, you were interrupted.

"What are you reading?" Eddie had emerged from the plant covered path, strolling toward you. He looked better, dressed in a plain white tee with his tousled hair pulled back.

"Doctor Zhivago, don't think you'd like it very much." You announced as he approached closer. Eddie sat himself in the only chair at your side, saying something about how Drew mentioned your whereabouts to the guitarist.

"Shall we order you some food? Coffee? With, what is it you like... seven sugars?" You asked with a roll of your eyes. Eddie smirked at your comment, stealing a couple of leftover grapes from your plate. 

"It's not sweet enough with any less." 

"Don't come crying to me when you get diabetes or some shit." 

Eddie stole more fruit with a shrug as you asked if any doctor had paid him a visit yet.

"He did. Didn't tell me anything you hadn't already said. I should be wearing my glasses. I should be taking better care of myself. I guess I really needed this day off. Just couldn't stand to lay up there doing nothing anymore." Eddie rambled on more about how didn't realize just how hard and fast he'd been living, it all seemed to hit him the moment he stopped.

"And anyway, rockstars don't wear glasses." Eddie pointed, stealing more of your food.

"Holly and Lennon would beg to differ." You cocked a brow and shut your book, shifting your entire attention to Eddie.

"I know." He slumped funnily, making you chuckle. "I'll break them out. Just don't film me looking too smart, got it? I've got an image to uphold."

"I promise not to film you looking any less than rock royalty." You laughed. Eddie chuckled too, and rambled a bit longer about how caught up in the scene he'd become, struggling to remember that last time he was this sober and exactly what day it was. You listened and nodded along, knowing how taxing this tour had been for you, imagining it was an even more exhausting endeavour for Eddie.

"You know I'm glad you're still out here putting up with us all. I really missed you, angel." Eddie looked right at you, stalling your heart for a beat against your wish to shed this silly bunch of feelings you held for the guitarist.

"Don't say something you don't mean." You tried to joke like usual but knew it came out a little more like a warning than you'd intended. Eddie watched you for a moment before he spoke up again. His gaze was always so magnetic. His presence was always so captivating. You couldn't help but swoon a little when he said things like that to you.

"We're friends... right? It's selfish but... I could really use a friend out here."

You let out a small sigh, sitting up a bit to respond. "Eddie I can put my silly crush aside, like always. I could never compete with all the groupies vying for your attention anyway." You smiled and insisted you'd be glad to continue being Eddies voice of reason throughout the rest of this tour.

Eddie thanked you, letting the moment of gratitude hang in the air before he slumped a little further back in his chair and insisted you read the book in your lap aloud. He talked you into doing so, and it became a relaxing passage of time for the pair of you, until dusk threatened to fall and a chill sent you both back to seperate rooms for the night.

///

After two glorious days of relative quiet at that posh Italian lodge, it was time to hop back on the road once more. The band played show after show, never failing to kick ass but struggling to avoid slip up's more than usual. While he never let it show to the crowd, you noticed Eddie's fatigue when he slumped for a beat too long near an amp, pretending to plug something in, but stalling just to collect himself, it seemed.

It wasn't helping that he would only wear his glasses when he was all alone- declaring they were not nearly metal enough for the world to see- because Eddie was never alone. And his headaches had nearly emptied your bottle of painkillers. The combination of the handful of pills and whatever alcohol he'd claimed as dinner were threatening to turn the kids brain to mush, you noticed. 

Eventually, when he was just spaced out enough, during moments he would sling his arm around your shoulder and sit with you on plane rides- you got him to wear the bloody things. During band meetings and room service breakfasts with just you and the other guys, he'd opt to see better. During times like then, no one was quite so worried how they looked or who to impress, anyhow. All anyone knew was how much you all missed home.

But the tour persisted mercilessly. You'd film the band from the sidelines of talk show appearances and as they mucked about during soundchecks. You napped during radio interviews, and you'd sit through after parties while the boys let girls pour shots down their throats. And slowly, you watched as you lost each friends company to prettier people and more important offers. Each night it got worse. 

You watched on as their collective interest was lost on you- as the boys in the band embraced the scene you were equally as submerged into but were most stranded amongst. The friends you'd flown across the world for would leave in the middle of stories you managed to conjure up, when famous producers crashed odd dinner parties. Lonnie promised for weeks to take you to dinner just the pair of you, to gossip and get away from it all. But he'd raincheck every afternoon, skipping off with people he'd only just met, instead. Drew and Ben had taken to crushing up pills to keep them awake, but were always too intoxicated to be present, floating through the motions, disregarding your general existence in their orbit.

But it really stung every time Eddie lost interest in the slivers of time he decided to spend with you. It only took a stunning blue eyed beauty to tear his gaze from yours, and steal him away for the rest of the night. It would only take a shinny new guitar handed to the budding rock and roll icon, to get Eddie yammering away to a set of strangers. Leaving you to wonder how the story he was telling you was meant to end. He'd never get around to telling you the end of many of those things his attention was stolen from.

The very worst was the mansion party. You'd found yourselves in a castle like home, full of your peers all more wasted than the next. You couldn't sure by whom you'd all been invited or how it even mattered. All you could process was the music that flooded from speakers, heavy drums and bass never ceasing to thrum through your ears. Sweaty bodies crowded each corner, and the drinks never seemed to run out. 

You'd gotten used to the girls by now. The pretty young things that would claw their way through crowds for a chance to be near Eddie. As foreign as the concept was, having only known the guitarist to garner the opposite reactions from girls back home, you'd gotten used to it. Eddie always had an excitable groupie on standby, to wink at from stage, to drag into his room at night.

But tonight was different. A line of ladies seemed to be impatiently waiting for a turn with the moon eyed guitarist, lingering close by in packs, whispering about him to each other before leaning in to whisper to him. Eddie invited one or two at a time into the seat of his lap, petting back their hair and shoving his tongue down their throats.

He wasn't breaking any rules. He hadn't ditched any previously made plans to stick close by you. He hadn't made any promises to you. Yet you'd felt the loneliest you ever imagined feeling in the middle of that people packed mansion- watching Eddie hand his heart out to sets of strangers who weren't you.

So when a strikingly beautiful foreign metal head settled in the seat at your side, and began to strike up profound conversation; you warmly accepted his bold introduction. The man was almost too pretty, a perfect set of features shone past long waves of sandy hair. His near curls tickled your face when he leaned in to tell a joke in your ear, past the loud thrumming music. 

And when his hand dared to settle just above your knee, you locked eyes with someone else across the room. Eddie was sat in an armchair, not to far from you. There was a girl at his side, doing her best to leave a hickey where she'd latched her mouth to his neck. He'd worn an odd sneer on his face, eyes never leaving yours once the pair of you had noticed each other. You were the first to break the stare off, though. Turning instead to gaze at the stunning metal head who leaned into you, daring to move his hand further up your thigh. As he did, you couldn't help but look back at the guitarist across the way.

It seemed Eddie hadn't stopped looking in your direction, even as a new girl settled into his lap, twirling one of his curls around her manicured finger. All at once, the guy at your side moved his hand from your leg to your hip, daring to trace circles with a soft finger as he told you some very raunchy story. As you'd kept your gaze on Eddie, you watched when he irritably nudged the girl from his lap to stand. What was his sudden problem, you wondered?

Trying your damnedest to enjoy the shred of admiration the foreign guy held for you, you let him move strands of hair behind your ear and didn't mind when the stories he told in your ear grew increasingly more vulgar. If things kept going in this direction, maybe you wouldn't have to spend another night all alone.

You rolled your eyes at Eddie as he dared to drift close by, on his way to retrieve another beer, you figured. He glared at you in a way that had you questioning his sobriety. You wondered if it would be worth addressing, or if he'd be none the wiser to the evil eye he'd been giving you, the next morning. Ben popped into view then too, noticing Eddies scowl, and the bassist mouthed to you from across the way asking what the hell his problem was. You just gave a small shake of your head as you decidedly turned to face the fellow at your side. He was gentle in the way he grabbed at you. He was funny too, enough to pull a string of giggles out of you. You'd nearly lost your attention entirely to him, until you detected Eddie once more.

The guitarist was standing closer than ever before, and you noticed just in time to watch as he pretended to hear Ben call out his name. In an animated overreaction, Eddie pretended to be distracted enough to bump against the chair your new foreign friend sat in, and Eddie, with sly intention, spilled a full glass of beer across the fellows back.

The metal heads once endearing attention was torn from you and a rage took over him as he turned his stunning features to find Eddie feigning an apology he very obviously did not mean. Passersby gasped and laughed and batted their eyes at Eddie as they floated near.

"Eddie!" You hissed, getting up to move and giving a real apology to your almost-date. He seemed entirely disinterested now, clenching his jaw and gently yet dismissively pushing you aside to likely find something to change into. You tried to stop him but it was no use. When he'd gone you saw Eddie still standing there with a shit eating grin spread across his face.

"Fuck you Eddie Munson." You seethed, each word tearing from your throat with an anger you were not accustomed to.

"I know you'd really like to, what's stopping you huh?" Eddie bent a little so he could look square in your eye as he responded. And though his remark could have made you weak in the knees, it only made your anger grow tenfold. He was definitely wasted.

"You jealous mother fucker!" You pointed, unsure where this spat was headed or why it had started in the first place. Before it could continue, you felt Ben's familiar boney grip yanking you away. He demanded Eddie go cool off somewhere, and enveloped you into his skinny side, bounding away from the guitarist.

That very same evening, Ben's annoying groupie wife left him for a famous chef she'd met at that cursed party. He fell to bits, a true blue heartbreak. You didn't end up alone that night after all. You and Ben stayed up sniffling through tears in your room, wondering when everything started to suck because the tour sure started off happier, you both recalled.

///

Since then, the bassist had become your closest confidant. His newly despondent state matched your own, and the pair of you often sat on the outskirts of parties and nights out. He'd always end up at your side after interviews or during shared meals. He'd give fans polite smiles when they interrupted your lunches, and wait for them to leave so you two could carry on talking about books and movies to dull the ache of reality.

The rest of the band was not nearly as grounded, letting themselves get entirely swept up in the depth of the tour. Lonnie had grown bitchy, pissing off his bandmates when he didn't think soundchecks were taken seriously enough, often starting quarls in the dressing room after. Drew was never sober, always on something that hindered his ability to care as much as he used to. And Eddie was never alone. People of all kinds swarmed around him, and he ate up the attention, allowing strangers to crash rehearsals and take up space on the jet. He'd been so busy wooing so many new faces that he'd barely paid you attention for a handful of days.

/// 

On the rooftop of some raging Japanese hotel, the band was busy celebrating another kick ass show. Before the after party had even really begun, Drew was already passed out near the pool. You stayed near, watching his chest rise and fall, until a roadie was assigned to drag the drummer to bed, hopefully without a hitch. Lonnie was busy buying rounds of drinks and Eddie was busy kicking bottles off of table tops. Ben had promised to stick close by, but he'd unfortunately fallen in love at first sight with a girl who looked a lot like the one he'd recently had his heart broken by. 

So there you were, left sulking, wishing you hadn't decide to leave your camera in your room, because it was easy to hide behind. Now you just wanted to leave, and you realized nothing was stopping you from doing just that. And not just this rooftop party, not just this city.

"Tony. I want to go home." You shouted at him from across a mini bar. The guy was just as spent, but seemed to perk up when he realized what you were demanding. When the manager didn't try and stop you right away; you made an argument that the band had more than enough footage from tour, from you, and that you were desperate to get off the never ending ride. Tony tried for a moment to talk you down from making an irrational decision, but he could see you weren't going to back down. Eventually the guy shuffled off mentioning something about a phone call, promising you he'd see what he could do about putting an end to your misery.

After stealing a shot from under Lonnie's nose and chugging the last of your own drink, you moved to find your coat and the stairs. 

"Where do you think you're going?" A voice boomed through the crowd. Eddie was stumbling toward you, dragging some girl behind as he maneuvered to approach. It was the first time he'd spoken directly to you in what felt like forever, maybe longer.

"I'm calling it a night." You voiced, slinging your thin garment over your bent arm. 

"No, stay a little while longer, Slash is supposed to show up later! This party will die without you." You were flattered that Eddie wouldn't want you to miss rock and roll royalty gracing the up and coming band's party, but you were just not in the mood to be otherwise disregarded, tonight. 

"I don't really feel like that's true." You hadn't wanted your reply to come off so bittered but you couldn't seem to help it, this tour was wearing you down. 

"No, he's really gonna be here-" 

Just then Tony shouldered passed the guitarist, the interruption stunning the guy from finishing his sentence. 

"There is a flight tomorrow morning. If you can be up by six, there will be a ticket home waiting for you at the front desk." The manager grumbled in his unintelligible accent, reluctant to send you away. "I think you should think about this, though-"

"There is nothing to think about Tony, I want to go home."

"Wait, where are you going?" Eddie fretted, seemingly coming out of his stupor enough to comprehend your conversation with Tony.

"You guys should have enough footage. I'm going back to Hawkins." You swallowed the lump in your throat and watched Tony gaze at Eddie from the side of his eyes, as if the manager had expected the guitarist to blow.

Eddies face did fall as he stepped closer to say "No. Don't leave me yet, angel." No sooner than the words left his lips did the girl at his side sneer and demand to know who you were and why Eddie cared so much.

"She's nobody, babe, come on." Eddie groaned, his focus morphing in the blink of an eye, as if he'd never cared about stopping you at all. His hold tightened desperately on the girl he seemingly favored tonight. Tony seemed to notice too, cringing at Eddie's disregard. 

That "nobody" hit you where it hurt, and it was hard not to let it show, as you shoved past Eddie, determined to leave faster than before. You heard him call out to you again, a half hearted attempt to stop you. But he couldn't. 

///

You found yourself alone, like usual, but unusually glad for it. There was a massive bottle of vodka calling your name from your rooms mini bar, one you wanted all your own. You switched on the telly to keep the silence of the room from driving you mad, downed as much vodka as you could in record time, and started packing.

It was somewhere halfway down the bottle that the band arrived back from the rooftop. You could tell by the ruckus coming from the hall that had been quiet before now. Debating on leaving a goodbye note, or letting Tony break the news to the boys, you kept packing and pretended the distant laughter from the hall didn't sting to hear.

Then there was a knock. You took another swig of alcohol as the banging at your door grew annoyingly more persistent. You only moved to open it when you couldn't stand the noise any longer.

"I didn't mean nobody.'" Eddie grumbled past a frown, drunk as you. He leaned against the door frame, a mess, shirt barely buttoned, hair unkempt. You started to wordlessly shut the door on him but he stopped it from closing with a foot.

"I didn't mean it, she was nobody and I was just excited about Slash. He didn't even show up. Please let me in." Eddie slurred, trying to slot himself between the half shut door.

"No, Eddie, I'm tired of being your second choice. You only talk to me when the people you're trying to impress aren't around."

That stunned the guy into silence. You watched his big brown eyes stare into yours with realization. "I do that?"

You just scowled, turning back to finish packing, reluctantly allowing Eddie to squirm through and lock you both in.

"You seriously aren't going back to Indiana, are you?" He worried, moving to stall before where you paced from the closet to your opened suitcase.

"I am." You sighed. In a few words you reminded Eddie that your job here was done and the tour was driving you mad. That the band was driving you mad. But as angry as you were at Eddie you were even more in love with him. So you couldn't help but empathize with how worn down he must've felt, too.

"I think you should stay." He said. "I really want you to stay."

"Why? You have barely said two words to me since Russia."

"I-I..." He stuttered but seemed to recall the past several days, realizing neither of you had really been around each other much.

"You guys won't even notice I'm gone." You spoke, still picking clothes away from hangers and moving to toss them in your bag.

"That's not true." Eddie echoed your statement from much earlier. Whether he meant to or not, he did. And it sent your head spinning a little. "Please don't leave me alone out here. I dont care if you film another thing..."

"You're never alone, Eddie." You seethed, moving to toss another sweater in your unzipped suitcase. But Eddie stopped you, his fingers brushing your wrist to stall your movement before he cautiously wrapped his digits around your arm there.

"I really fucked this all up. I don't want you to leave me. Please stay."

"Why do you only want my attention when you're about to lose it?" You demanded to know.

"Because I'm too much of a pussy to ask for your attention all of the time! And I do want your attention all of the time. And I don't want you to fucking leave me." He boomed back, voice bursting with emotion as he grabbed at you. His one hand that had been latched onto your wrist had joined his other hand in holding either side of your face in his grasp.

"Then prove it." You ordered. If Eddie wanted you around he certainly hadn't been acting like it. But what happened next wasn't exactly the proof you'd been expecting.

Eddie was kissing you before the words finished forming on your lips. You were stunned, absolutely shocked. Not only by his decision to press his lips against your, but by the voracity in which he kissed you. His tongue pushed against yours, his fingers tugged your hair, his body radiated heat flush against your own. And when he pulled away he looked at you and asked with staggered breath,

"Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

"Just... shut the fuck up and do it again." You decidedly croaked, too drunk too care otherwise. You'd dreamed of this. You'd wanted this for so long it was impossible to demand he cease. The room spun from the alcohol and your heart hammered from the feeling of finally having Eddie right where you'd always wanted him. He did as he was told, grabbing you and kissing you and pushing you toward the bed. 

His kisses were loud and desperate, and so were yours in turn. His curls tickled your skin, and his hands weren't afraid to wander. With no real time to revel in the bliss of certain caresses, things escalated at a pace so quick you'd wondered if you'd slipped into a drunken dream. Eddie tore away your shorts as you ripped away his belt, dying to get to what was underneath already.

The man's kisses against your neck were searing and his muddled curses sounded like cries. He shoved a hand down your panties, and the way his fingers brushed your core was the most gentle he'd been since this interaction began. 

You were the one to shove off his underwear and Eddie wasted no time promptly ramming into you. Your head spun and your blood boiled as his hands clawed into your hips and his raspy voice demanded, "Please stay. For me." Then he called you by your name. Not that silly nickname you'd never favored much. Eddie plead your honest name in your own ear as he fucked you hard enough to send the headboard slamming against the wall. 

///

You felt like it lasted forever. But the next thing you realized, you were waking up to sharp rays of sun and Eddie's heavy limbs weighing you down. And as soon as you recalled how your evening ended together, regret flooded your system. Sadness followed suit and before you could process those feelings, a worry moved you to get up and go. With great caution you slipped out of Eddie's loose hold and rushed to gather a change of clothes.

It took you no time to race to the front desk, where a polite attendant informed you the time was eleven in the morning. Waaaay past six. You wanted to curse her and cry and scream. But it was your own fault you missed your flight home. 

You spent the next little while hiding in the hotels public loo, dreading finding Eddie still sprawled on your bed. Dreading the conversation the pair of you were eventually going to have to have. Dreading the idea of the rest of the band realizing the guitarist was not in his own room, but had stayed the night in yours. 

Eddie had always known you'd dreamt of him having his way with you. But it wasn't how you imagined. It wasn't why you imagined. It felt like the man's last ditch attempt to keep you around one day longer. It didn't feel at all like an act of mutual admiration.

Luckily, he was gone when you got the guts to go back up to your room. And you managed to avoid everyone until it was time to head to the next venue. You would've stayed locked in your hotel room if Tony hadn't come looking for you. He was delighted you'd missed the flight to America, insisting you hurry along to join the others- handing you your camera as if they truly needed more film from you.

///

You sat with arms crossed in the limo on the way to that next show. Drew kept asking you to help him suss out new lyrics he'd been working on, talking to himself, he realized, when you made no effort to put in your two cents. You kept your mouth shut to avoid spewing out all your useless frustrations. You kept your eyes unfocused, refusing to meet Eddies. He was sat across from you, copying your posture, willing you to catch his intensely held gaze. Ben was there too, crying about the girl he fell in love with last night not coming back to his room with him. 

In the blink of an eye, music flooded the stadium during the bands sound check, and you cornered Tony once more. Reminding him of how much footage you'd captured already and wondering how much longer you'd need to keep this up. The manager tried to encourage you to stay on the rest of the tour, because it was anyone's guess the antics that would ensue and the band asked you to be there to capture everything. He reminded the more footage you shot the more money you made. 

All you could do was nod along with his speech, when he failed to let you get another word in edgewise. Tony's accented rambles became white noise as you drifted through the motions of a good little backstage busy bee. Steaming shirts from wardrobe, mixing drinks, letting your thoughts tear your own heart in two.

It's just what he does. You told yourself. You were the girl in the dark room alone with Eddie that night. You were just in the right place at the right time. As this mantra played through your mind, a voice cut through your thoughts. Eddie was marching toward you with a finger pointed sternly outward.

"We gotta talk about last night." He demanded.

"There is nothing to talk about." You snapped back. "We were drunk." You hurried to turn out of the doorway the other boys were floating in too; ignoring their curious glances as you and Eddie shared a biting words. On your breeze out you decided your destination would be the backlot, a bit of cool air would do you some good before the venue crowded more.

"Please wait." Eddie called after you, "Where are you going?"

"None of your business." You hissed, aggravated by the way he kept his stride to follow behind your own. You tried to lose his trail on yours, swerving past bustling roadies, but were angered further when Eddie reached a hand out to stop you around a corner.

"Are you just gonna stalk me all night? Cause I certainly didn't invite you to join me."

"Why are you so mad at me?" He begged when you stormed past the heavy doors to the private car park. There was a chill in the wind, and a quiet in the night that was more than inviting.

"You seriously didn't just ask me that." The heavy door slammed as Eddie took a step toward you in the dark night.

"I did and I want your answer. Why are you mad? You told me to keep kissing you! You were the one ripping my fucking pants off!"

"You fuck anything with legs, Eddie! I was waiting for you to tell me that you loved me! That I wasn't just the warm body of the night, the closest thing for you to take to bed. It's my fault too, for expecting sex to matter more when we had it. But the whole thing broke my heart, Eddie. You've known how I've felt about you all this time! But you didn't sleep with me because you liked me. You slept with me to get me to stay."

You struggled to hold back tears, the vice around your throat making the words hard to spit out but you made sure he knew you meant them. His face contorted into a confounded grimace. A look you'd never seen him pull before. Eddie stepped forward again, extending an arm out to you as he began to declare,

"It did matter! I do-"

Before he could finish the backstage door flew open with a thud and a roadie stuck his breathless head out to say... "Eddie, your guitar, it's an emergency you need to come in right now."

"Fuck!" Eddies voice dropped with defeat. He let his arms fall as he spun on his heels to reluctantly face the issue.

The roadie anxiously hurried the guitarist inside and when the heavy stage door finally slammed shut and Eddies muttered curses faded behind it, you let your frustrated tears bubble to the surface. 

///

The next week went the same. You sat on opposite ends of tables and corners of the room, away from Eddie. He tried, though, to include you in card games- bringing you styrofoam cups of tea between soundchecks and after shows. You couldn't help but let a grin grow across your lips when he approached you with that pleading look in his eye, but you bit back those smiles best you could and shook your head at his every offer. 

Then Eddie would pick a groupie, any groupie, shove those styrofoam cups into her grasp, give her a hand of cards, and shoot glares your way for the next twenty four hours. You were replaceable. 

During some midday dart game they demanded you film, the band gathered the collective guts to ask what the hell your problem had been the past few days. You shrugged and mentioned missing home, wishing aloud once more Tony would hook you up with another ticket to Hawkins and approval from MTV. Ben worried instantly, you'd been his closest friend out here. Lonnie and Drew wouldn't hear of it, coxing you to stay, asking Eddie to pitch in his encouragements. 

"Tired of fucking trying." He spat angrily, chucking a dart to the board so forcefully it clattered against the wall. Everyone got quiet as Eddie kicked himself out of that greenroom.

Ben managed to get you alone, that same evening, demanding to know what the fuck was really going on. 

"I don't just like him. I love him. And you know how bad that can hurt." You admitted with a frown. Ben pursed his lips and nodded a little before pulling you into his side with one arm. 

"I'm sorry, angel. Let's just get through the rest of this tour, yeah?" 

You nodded and followed the guy to the hotel lobby bar, where he paid for all the shots you shared. Ben got you to talk about what happened between yourself and the guitarist that had the pair of you so obviously at odds. It felt good to get off your chest. Ben was a good listener, and you knew given his recent tumultuous love life that he'd know where you were coming from. 

The band put on a kick ass show that night; after Eddie lost the dart game and you'd gotten buzzed enough in the hotel bar to be able to dance along to the bands set by night fall. You slept on the ride back home, unbothered, while the band chatted aimlessly with the MTV rep.

///

The balcony of your hotel room was almost the perfect escape, a little corner of the world you could sit out in without feeling trapped in another room, in another venue. Just you and a vast expanse of trees and stars and the far off view of the city to the north. As you swayed between the sliding doorway and the warm inside of the room, deciding it was best to call it bedtime, there was a knock, soft and gentle.

"Can we talk? Please." Eddie was there he is wearing his glasses. He begged your real name again, and you could see how tired he was. If he wanted sleep he would've been dreaming by now. But he was here at your door, and you'd missed him despite yourself, despite your heartache. So you let him in.

"It's 2am." You worried. The band had an early morning scheduled.

Eddie nodded, taking in the features of your room. And when he asked you out onto your balcony, you couldn't help but smile to yourself. The Australian wind was warm even at night. So there you sat in chairs facing each other, settling into the silence that had grown increasingly louder between the pair of you over the past few days.

"I'm gonna tell you something. And it's going to sound stupid. And I understand if you won't believe me. But it will be the truth, finally."

"Finally?"

"I never didn't like you back." Eddie said, wincing, as if he knew you were going to roll your eyes at the remark.

"Eddie don't-" You were going to warn him not to take the conversation down this path. If he wanted to talk through what happened that was one thing, but he seemed to just keep hurting you more each time he tried.

"No, just listen. Please let me say everything, and then you can take it however you want. Please." Eddie begged. He'd been begging you a lot, the past few days. He took the glasses off his face to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. You huffed a sigh and sat back in resignation, bringing your knees to your chest. Eddie leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he went on to speak up again.

"I've had a thing for you, like, this whole time. Like nothing I've ever felt for anyone else. But it was always easier for me to play it off like a joke, like we do. Because I always thought you deserved better. I've always been made to feel like such a dirtbag. I've never felt capable of much in life, you know how hard it was for me to even get out of fucking highschool. I never expected this band to get as big as it has. And even still I'm waiting for it all to blow up in my face. That's why, I think, I let myself get so caught up with all the fame. Because I've been so scared of this all ending. Of being the one to fuck it up." He laughed a little laugh, one filled with what seemed like disgust. 

"All that to say that I don't think I'm any good for you, angel. I fucking love you. That's why I wanted you here. That's why I showed up to your room that night. I wanted to kiss you, because I love you. But I.... I did sleep with you to get you to stay... I'm a giant fucking dirtbag. I wish I would've gone about it in a totally different way. Sleeping with you, I mean. That I would've finally gotten the guts to do it because I love you, and not just to stop you from walking out the door. You deserve someone ten thousand times better, smarter, more capable than me. Always have. I'm so sorry I got you so caught up in all this bullshit."

As you sat and listened, Eddie broke your heart all over again with each new word. Flashbacks of the night you spent together bolted past your vision. Memories of the way Eddie smiled at you in that dirty old garage back home, and all the times he'd kiss the crown of your head before a show.

"How fucking dare you decide that you, exactly as you have been, exactly as you are, are not what I deserve." You sat up, letting your feet find the floor as you leaned in to meet Eddies eye. "You're saying we could've been something this whole time, you and me? And you bring me out here and you make me take care of you and you take me bed, and you still won't let me love you?"

"I-I know, I'm sorry I-" Eddies voice wavered and his eyes glossed over with tears, as realization set in.

"You stare me down while you let dozens of girls press themselves all over you, you stop me from hooking up with even one well meaning stranger. Then you fuck me and turn around and tell me you don't think I deserve it, so I still have no shot with you? Do you realize how shitty-" 

As you let out your unfiltered frustrations, Eddie started to cry. The tears that had welled in his eyes fell as he kept his sorry gaze locked on yours, when he wasn't blinking hard.

"I don't know why I let this all blow up. Or why I was so scared to just talk to you about this before. I wish I could have gone about it differently, I do. And the thing is I really think I'm in love with you. And I know that I'm making you even more upset by saying all this."

"Well there is a big fucking difference between thinking and knowing." You warbled, your soul aching at the sight of Eddie in such distress. " You've got a lot to prove, if it's true." 

"You... you would let me prove it? I haven't entirely fucked everything up?"

"Even if you have, I'm pretty in love with you, remember? Guess you're just lucky that I can't seem to help it. And that's all I meant that night. I wanted you to prove that you cared that I stayed. Not just that you wanted me to."

You talked for a while longer about how swept up in the lifestyle Eddie had become, and how he was living as if all this would end tomorrow. You reminded him that he'd gotten here by way of the very real talent and charisma he had, and no one could take that away from him. You reminded him he had an early morning radio show appearance and that he should get some sleep. And because of his big sad eyes you told him he could stay with you, if he kept his hands to himself. If he really loved you, you'd be more than a quick shag, like all the other girls. Like you were just two nights ago. 

"I'm sorry for everything." Eddie stressed all the right syllables, and said so again with even more meaning. "I'm gonna do better." You let him curl against you and apologize himself to sleep as you pet back his hair and assured the guy it was all sort of okay. He had broken your heart, but you were starting to see the bigger picture now.

Despite the pain he'd caused you throughout the course of this tour, you recalled the Eddie you'd known so well before all the fame. You recalled the Eddie from the in between moments, when he'd break out of his stupor enough to make sure you were watching his guitar solos, to make sure you had enough room in the limo. You admired the Eddie at your side now, how you knew he meant what he said. How he'd come to you and stayed and said he'd wanted to stay.

And a tiny hope stayed aflame in your soul that this could actually all work out.

///

The next morning was a rough one, waking up from barely any sleep and being rushed to an interview before the sun rose was an odd form of cruelty. Corroded Coffin managed to look alive during an unplanned photo shoot that followed. You filmed a bit of their tried and true efforts to cause a bit of ruckus, as they posed.

Then came lunch. A small diner on a precarious mountaintop was an unexpected but welcomed respite. 

"Black coffee.... four sugars." You glared at Eddie, presenting him the drink as he smile and you slid into the booth across him. You watched as Eddie tradded you a juice he'd previously ordered on your behalf, before taking the coffee mug in his ring clad grasp.

"You're good at it." He mused.

"Huh?"

"There was this girl in Munich. Bless her, she tried. She woke me up one morning with breakfast in bed. Asked me how I took my coffee, I told her. She did it. She got me black coffee with seven sugars. I was pretty disappointed ya know?"

"She gave you what you asked for, Ed." You laughed, a little confused.

"She didn't for one second screech about how unhealthy or gross all the sweet stuff was. She only brought me one coffee closer to diabetes and left me board without anyone to banter with." He laughed. "But you're good at it. Taking care of me."

You just grinned, racking your brain about the place you'd found yourself in. About how Eddie was speaking to you now, and what his words meant.

"Are mom and dad done fighting?!" Drew rang, balancing several plates of breakfast food, setting them on the table to join the booth you and Eddie sat in.

"We're working on it. I'm working on it." Eddie responded, looking right at you.

///

The birthday song boomed from the speakers of a stadium, as Ben sang to Lonnie on stage, leading the audience of thousands to join in. You were in charge of toting out a cupcake in honor of the singers celebration, handing him the dessert in front of several thousand spectators. In one hand, a cupcake, in the other, your camera. 

You let your viewfinder pan across the roaring audience before focusing back on the band. Eddie had swiped a bit of icing from Lonnie's birthday treat with one finger for his own. Drew was signing the birthday song again, putting a vulgar spin on the lyrics before the singer insisted the show continue on.

You hurried off stage then, putting your camera away to enjoy life before your own eyes. After Eddie had played the band off stage one by one with a face melting guitar solo, he came bounding right to you. He planted an icing flavored kiss on your lips, a quick, affable gesture- before dashing back onto stage for an encore. He was doing a damn good job of making your head spin, these days. 

///

Eddie's attention the rest of the tour, was fully yours. Between shows, he was still parting through crowds to offer you a bottle of Coke. He was still making sure you had a spot at shared dinner table, or dinner plans in general. But if you declined an offer or had to raincheck, you saw no one take your place at his side. He didn't give up.

Eddie left the groupies corralling together, batting their lashes best they could to seduce the guy into plucking one of them out of the buch to play a card game. But he didn't. He only waited for you to join, or left the spot meant for you empty.

"Dinner plans?" His voice wondered hopefully in your ear, as his fingers curled to hold your waist close.

"Lucky for you, Lonnie canceled on me again." You smiled with a roll of your eyes.

"I know, I told him to." Eddie grinned a wicked grin, grabbed your hand and led the way. "Come on kid, this is gonna be a good one."

When the limo deposited the pair of you back at the hotel, you were puzzled. Eddie just kept his mischievous smile and excitedly pulled you along in a rush.

His room was set up with candles and a room service cart full of finger foods and lots to drink. Eddie made a quick call and within moments there was a full bloody five course meal being wheeled into the room.

"Go on, dig in while it's still hot." Eddie nudge you to sit at the head of a haphazardly set, candle lit table, as he rushed around the suite in search of something. You watched as your dear friend set up his portable record player and started to pick through the stack of vinyl he'd bought at the start of the tour. He pulled out the record you'd chosen that long ago day in Monaco, and you couldn't hide your gaiety, giggling past bites of perfectly roasted veggies. You never dreamed there would be time for an evening like this, on tour, or ever, with Eddie.

The guy sauntered over to the table then, pouring you wine before helping himself to all the same things.

"So what happens for you after this tour ends?" Eddie wondered.

You shrugged, noshing. "I go back to the apartment, look for a job I hate less, I don't quite know." You talked about how you'd have enough money saved up from filming to quit your 9 to 5 and still live comfortably for a few months.

"Well I have two questions for you, then."

"Ask em."

"Will you be my date to the documentary premiere? You have to go, since you basically made the whole thing, and I have to go, since I am the star." Eddie boasted with a roll of his eyes that got you to chuckle. "I'd love to walk down that red carpet with you on my arm."

"Setting the bar high for future dates, making the first such a big event." You grinned.

"You can stay at the place the record company has me hooked up with, in L.A., that weekend. And if you wanted to, you could come house shopping with me."

"Is that your second question?"

"No, you actually have no choice there. I'll need your executive decision, picking between expansive Beverly Hills properties." Eddie winked. "My second question is, once we find the perfect mansion, why don't you stay there with me for good? The only way any place will ever feel like home is if you're there."

You gapped at Eddie, mid bite. How was it he kept surprising you? How was it your heart hammered harder every day for this silly little metalhead? How was it he was so fond of you all the while?

"There is nothing in Hawkins to do but work shitty minimum wage retail jobs and waste away. And with all your potential, opportunities are endless for you in L.A.... Plus, all your best friends will be living it up in the city of angels without their very own guardian angel. I'll be without you. And I find that all to be totally unacceptable." He pointed, finishing his plate. You watched Eddie speak, taking in every word as he said them, but not to think of your answer. The both of you already knew you'd say yes. You just wanted to soak up every meaning of the moment you lived in with Eddie, appreciate every detail of the way he'd asked you to continue living life at his side.

"I want you to live with me, and I want us to do this thing, and I want there to be an us."

"What's the dress code?" You chuckled, overwhelmed by his onslaught of hopeful interrogation.

"To our first date at the premier? Black tie, but make it metal. To our Beverly Hills mansion? Well, I was hoping there wouldn't be any at all..."

"Then I'm in." You grinned, giggly and wine buzzed. And with ease, you leaned across the table corner, reached for Eddie, and kissed him. He hummed sweetly, kissing you back right away. It wasn't long before he'd had enough of the space between you, tugging on your sleeve to pull you into the seat he sat in. 

"You'll be mine, then? Officially and forever and ever?" He grinned, kissed you, and stopped to look in your eye as you answered. 

"I've alway been yours, Ed. And I'll always want to be." 

The guitarist pushed his lips against your again, moving to stand. He made sure you kept your legs linked around his waist as he rose, stumbling, as wine tipsy as you. Your shared giggles turned into laughter as he maneuvered the both of you to the bed. This was nothing like the first time. 

Eddie asked if he could, before he slowly peeled away each of your layers. This was nothing like the first time. 

Eddie took his time, letting his rings leave goosebumps in their wake. Letting his gaze fixate on your every curve, letting his eyes well up as he stared in awe of you, of the moment you were sharing together. This was nothing like the first time. 

Eddie's fingers caressed your back as you took your time settling into his lap, your breath shuddered and your insides burned with want and your heart felt right at home. You knew this wouldn't be the last time. Eddie kissed you and promised a big future for the pair of you to share. Eddie rocked against you and promised this was your new normal. Eddie promised he was irreversibly and insanely in love with you.

You knew you're life was bound to change, when Tony called you, that day. But you never imagined just how much. You couldn't wait to dream up new realities with Eddie in the spotlight of every vision. You couldn't wait to watch them come true. Loving Eddie was easy. Eddie loving you back was music to your ears. 

[mara-xx217]

The Monsters' Favorite- Ch.31 Their Maiden (Special Episode: Starring the Knight and his Guards)

Wow... how long has it been since I wrapped up Monsters' Favorite? I couldn't resist making a little some thing for it after I fell in love with the Knight and his boys. (give thanks to @prettycutebunny for this lol)

Warnings: Gangbang, Oral, Creampies, Cuckolding

You heard the talk surrounding the newest arrivals to the Entity’s realms. An Italian nobleman and his traitorous knight. Scandalous! Vittorio made sure that everyone knew exactly how monstrous this knight and his guards were to the other survivors. 

“They wrested control of my estate from my very hands!”

“They locked me in my own dungeon!”

“They tortured me for so long…”

Vittorio had a habit of picking at and rubbing his fingernails, as though he was reliving that singular moment over and over again. You could sympathize… but the overwhelming coolness you felt wouldn’t allow you to show it much at all. 

Despite all the warnings (or, as you should know, because of said warnings) you found yourself wandering into that ruined little Italian village, a familiar whisper tickling your ear as a gentle tug at your waist led you along. 

There was a smell of burned wood and scorched flesh- it was a smell that you hate that you’ve become accustomed to. Not unlike that charred chapel or Badham- You shuddered, footfalls faltering before you come to a stop. 

You were being watched. 

You were used to it by now. Always you were being watched, by someone or something. By HER. But this was someone new, you were sure of it. Not just by one pair of eyes, but by many. And they answered only to one. 

The Knight was everything you imagined him to be. Tall, broad, dashing in his grime stained armour and surely something to behold underneath that hard exterior. You would get to know soon enough. 

You were eager, willing to be his and his pack’s little maiden. Not a pure little thing, snow white and clean but marred and dirty. Used and nearly broken. But they didn’t mind. You weren’t unlike them. Servants to masters that are uncaring and harsh. You weren’t a mere  object, but a woman to them. Warm and soft-

Never before had they pledged themselves to a maiden- fair and beautiful, they called you- regardless of her birth origin or her standing in society. They cared not for the tasks you performed, only that you gave yourself to them willingly and openly. And you did, then and there. 

Rough leather and chilly metal left goosebumps in wake of the trails gauntleted hands made up the sides of your thighs. The smallest of the men, the Jailer, Alejandro, couldn’t help but to snicker the obvious-

“No undergarments?! She ain’t got no-! OOF-“ A sharp jab to his side silences his unneeded comments. It nearly makes you giggle- or perhaps you are just ticklish from such light touches. 

When was the last time you laughed? 

You didn’t mind getting on your knees. The ground was rough but the discomfort seemed to add to the moment. At least I’m your opinion. The Knight, Tarhos, was eager but his body language nor his voice gave anything away. His cock, however- 

It twitched as your fingertips traveled down its length. Hmm… Your mouth was already watering and your core began to warm and ache. With little grace, you collect your saliva in your mouth and allow it to drip onto the head of his cock. He shivers slightly but gives no other indication he even acknowledged what you just did. You tucked a stray lock of your hair behind your ear and greedily swallowed half of his cock. 

You didn’t mind the audience, for once. Two of them, the Assassin. Durkos, and the Carnifex, Sanders, were both quiet. Present, but quiet, simply watching you work your wonders in silent appreciation. Not judgement, appreciation. Tarhos was near silent, too, but he sighed and twitched every time you bobbed your head or sucked his member in a particularly harsh manner. But Alejandro? He was different from them all. 

The Jailer was on the ground, level with you. First resting on his haunches he then sinks to his knees, facing you as you give his master head. He was talking to you- at least, maybe partly- or maybe he was just talking to himself. None of the words really hit you as you focused on your current task.

Bob your head up and down.

Suck harder, let go, swallow.

Trail your tongue down and wrap your lips around-

“Can I touch you?”

It left you a little surprised. Sure enough, it was the Jailer, Alejandro, that asked you such a thing. He rocked back and forth on his knees, body trembling as his breaths came out in short, excited bursts. You flutter your eyelashes, a bit touched that he even considered asking you- you!- such a thing, as though he didn’t know that you were a whore whose sole purpose was to be a toy for them to break as many times as they liked, whenever and however they liked. Still, he squirmed but didn’t make any other movements until you shyly nodded and whispered.

“Of course… In any way you wish.” 

This must be something they all have an agreement on. You weren’t used to being shared willingly. It was… nice not being subjected to violence for once. Tarhos rested his gloved hand on your head, pushing your hair back as he nonverbally encouraged you to continue your previous actions. Boney fingers gently brushed against your shoulder before a palm slid across the back of your neck. An arm looped around your shoulder as a sharp face pressed itself into your warm neck, lukewarm breath tickling your skin as a mouth eagerly envelopes around your sensitive skin.

“Hrmm-”

In your peripheral vision, you see the other two- Durkos and Sander- simply watching from afar. One leans against a wall and the other stands with his arms crossed, not annoyed but simply observing. Waiting. Patiently… Between your legs, heat began to pulse in rhythm with the bobbing of your head. 

You whimper as the suction of Alejandro’s mouth was broken with a loud, wet pop! His attention wandered up your neck and settled on the shell of your ear. One of his hands cupped your breast, massaging and fondling it as he pinched your already hardened nipple between two of his fingers. As a whine rises in the back of your throat, the Jailer chuckles.

“You’re so good… Where’dya learn?” His hand slipped under the neck of your dress. You hummed, removing Tarhos’s cock from your mouth.

“Hmm… practice.” He giggles, his entire body shakes, from his fingertips all the way to his feet.

“Hehe…” Alejandro moves his other hand behind your neck.

“I’d like to see what else you can do…” He purrs into your ear. A jolt of pleasure shoots down your spine and settles in your core. Oh fuck… 

As much as you like fucking out in the open, it was a little cumberson on your body. And it’s hard to give a show when you can only be on your knees or standing… You whine a little, tugging on Tarhos’s cuirass, pulling away from the pressure he had steadily applied to the back of your head. He allows you to pull away with little resistance.

“Hmm… Do you think we could go inside? Perhaps… there? You point to a ruined building whose doors were all ripped off their hinges. He pauses but nods, grunting softly. Both he and the Jailer help you to your feet, the latter all but draping himself around you as you follow Tarhos, Durkos and Sander into the building. 

Dark and dank… but the floor is smooth and there are stairs and other things that can be used as seating. You certainly couldn’t complain. You direct Tarhos to sit on the stairs and he does with hardly a sound as he sits down. His armour clanked and settled heavily as he came to rest. He sighs in relief. You can’t help but to worry your lip and wonder what other noises you can get him to make…

Maybe it was you that was to make all the noise. Sinking down onto the Knight’s dick, you felt yourself accommodate him perfectly. Just as you should. Nice and tight, a little uncomfortable, but he fit all the way to the hilt and then some.

There was something so undeniably hot about the first time you fuck someone new. How will they react? Will they be considerate and gentle? Will they take what they want and leave you still needing? Or maybe they will kill you somewhere in the middle and have all the fun without you really there… Tarhos leaned back and allowed you to set the pace. He didn’t touch you in the beginning, rather, he merely watched as you bounced on his cock. But you weren’t left alone. 

No, to your surprise, fingers combed their way through your hair and craned your neck to the side. Your lips met the Jailer’s, too toothy and wet but you didn’t really mind. How could you when the gesture was so sweet? You moaned into his mouth, your pace faltering slightly as a hand slid down the small of your back. 

It wasn’t Tarhos’s, who’s hands had found your hips, kneading them and pulling you forward ever so slightly. No, it was Alejandro’s, who slowly and steadily pressed you further and further down onto his master’s cock.

Ohh…

It’s been a while since you’ve had multiple partners at once. Never before had you had ones that were so patient or hands on. Not like this. It was thrilling. You liked being watched so it shouldn’t be a stretch to think that being assisted like this would turn you on as well. And it fucking did.

You felt a wave of pleasure crash over you as a tongue slipped into your mouth. He was now directing your pace and movements. You followed his guidance. Speed up, slow down. Deeper- no, shallower. All the way down and grind- 

The Knight shuddered underneath you, his cock throbbing against your core as warmth flooded inside of you. You whimpered into the Jailer’s mouth, twitching as you cum, yourself. 

There’s so much- Fuck! R-Right there…!

You lift yourself off his dick. Slowly. You don’t know whether or not you should hold his cum inside of you or try to push it out for his men to see. Curious fingers press into your throbbing cunt. You shudder and clench around them. They are slender and cool, bumping against you as it feels around for-

There-

Your insides were coated in cum. A wet squelch punctuated every movement, no matter how small or subtle. Alejandro seemed to rather enjoy what he was feeling, so he broke free from your chasing lips and excitedly asked. 

“My turn?!”

You could only nod, face flushed and legs weak, but it was more than enough for him. You squeaked as you were pulled off of the Knight’s lap. Before you could regain your footing, you were pushed against the wall. Using your arms you brace yourself, standing a little awkwardly with your ass sticking out and your chest against the stone wall. You shiver as the Jailer looms over you from behind. 

“Hmm… just like that…” He purrs in your ear. A shiver causes you to choke on your breath as one of his hands smooths up your dress and against your bare torso. Ahh-

He was much, much different than his commander. Alejandro’s cock wasn’t nearly as big as his, but fuck he didn’t give you any room for control or to even breathe! The pace was so fast it fucking hurt but you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it. 

Drool ran down your shoulder and onto your collarbone. The man currently fucking your brains out whined about how fucking good you felt. How tight you were, how wet- how sloppy you were… And you were. Fuck… you were slick with cum and even more cum when he suddenly finishes inside of you. 

You were left unable to stand and nearly sinking to your knees. Alejandro kindly held you upright before you could. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he hoisted you back up to your feet and pulled you back towards the stairs. You fell onto his lap, his cock still out and standing proud. He nuzzled into your neck as he groped your chest.

“Are you okay, little swan?” He cooed as you shifted and wiggled against the stiff warmth that fit itself snuggly into the cleft of your ass. 

“Hrmm… Mmhmm…” A soreness was blooming inside of you but it was luckily overwhelmed by the heat that was still present in your core. You raised your hips and blindly reached underneath you to grasp hold of the Jailer’s still hard member.

“Ohh?” A pleasant surprise. You had more than enough stamina and drive to keep up with all four of them, you were certain of it. If not… well, you would make due regardless. 

You need to get a feel for them. What they want, what makes them tick… You are a means to an end for them. They can fuck you, kill you, love you or hate you but it doesn’t really matter. In the end, you are whatever they want you to be, whether it be a whore turning tricks, a thing to corrupt and maim, or even an unfortunate maiden in need of rescuing. Whatever they wanted you would provide, one way or another. 

Whether it’s one after another or all at once, whether they want to hurt you, make you scream, make you cry and wail, whether they want to be soft or gentle, you are there for their amusement alone. Though… it is nice when they are neither cruel nor brutal with you.

You were exhausted yet somehow still feeling that slow, aching throb inside of you. Somehow, you didn’t realize you had shifted onto yet another man’s lap. Not the Knight’s, not the Jailer’s, not the Carnifex’s, that’s for sure… The Assassin, Durkos, had sat you on his thighs with your back against his chest. But he wasn’t fucking you, no, he didn’t even have his dick out. 

It was a little embarrassing… Having no underwear on, your legs were parted on either side of his lap so you were more or less completely exposed. Your face was already heated but you found your temples throbbing when his rough hand smoothed its way up one of your thighs.

Sweat and other bodily fluids caused your skin to feel sticky and clammy. It was disgusting but it also felt kinda good… You were dirty and spent yet you were still being treated as though you were made of porcelain. Like you were still something pretty and to be admired… Fingers crept up towards the valley of your thighs and you couldn’t muster the strength to do much else other than whimper softly under your breath. 

Your thighs tensed and jumped as your swollen clit was grazed by drifting fingertips. Shit… you’re so sensitive- 

The Assassin didn’t make any sharp or rough movements as his fingers dipped into your throbbing entrance. They slipped inside with ease, both from the ample lubricant coating your walls and from how stretched you were from the poundings you received earlier. The gentle ministrations were soothing in comparison to your precious rough treatment. Rough… but not cruel, you thought.

His movements were precise yet unpracticed. Durkos was exploring you while also trying to make you feel good. How sweet… You shifted in his lap and closed your eyes, sighing as the coil inside of you slowly began to tighten with each dip of his fingers. 

In and out.

Rub in circles.

Dip back in.

Press to the roof…

“Ahh…” 

It was a quiet one, not intense but still pleasant. The remaining cum inside of you was pushed out, tricking down between the cleft of your ass and likely down onto the Assassin’s lap. The pulses of pleasure swiftly turned hot and you found that, when you clenched your muscles, it was unbelievably sore and downright painful. A part of you was ready for it to continue. It usually does… Yet…

It didn’t. You said you were done and they said they were done, too. Huh… That’s… nice. You didn’t need help going to the threshold of the realm but they all accompanied and carried you, anyway. You got to return to the survivor’s camp, not only in one piece but genuinely satisfied and eager for the next time that you would encounter them. 

Whether it be in a trial or in off time, the Knight and his Guards might be the first killers that you visit on your own volition. They really know how to show a lady a good time… though they certainly could learn a thing or two from you, you think…

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @slutwithadegree, @dead-bxxxtch-walking, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine

[writing-and-art]

#13

context: dazai, chuuya, teenagers and a poorly thought out study. (its just dazai being smitten, don't take this seriously. hes in denial)

-

Notes on Nakahara Chuuya - by Dazai Osamu

The slug is o’ so painfully human- it disgusts me how blind he is to it.

The first time Dazai had met Chuuya, he had been contemplating whether to try hanging himself again. The plans had been literally kicked from his brain with all the subtlety and finesse of one Chuuya Nakahara- which is to say, none.

Like most, Dazai had heard of soulmates. He’d read all the tropes- red strings, telepathy, timers, and colours exploding when eyes meet. Whilst he found the concept fascinating, he firmly believed it to be untrue. It was ludicrous- the idea of someone understanding you on such a visceral level; as if you were made for each other.

Lo and behold, enter: Chuuya Nakahara, science experiment extraordinaire and other half of Soukoku.

Dazai didn’t believe in such whimsical things like soulmates; he believed in Chuuya though. Chuuya, and the colours he bought with him.

“You ought to drink more milk,” Dazai told him, and held back a grunt when kicked in the face.

And that was how it started.

Then came Rimbaud, and then Verlaine. It was a shitshow. Chuuya saw his friends die. Chuuya saw his clone die. Chuuya got tortured. Chuuya, Chuuya, Chuuya.

Despite his near perfect memory, Dazai, for the death of him, wouldn’t be able to recall what he had said to Chuuya in regards to the chance of finding out his humanity disappearing. All he remembered was the blue and brown of his eyes- eerily vivid, almost glowing, as if the singularity powering him was shining through.

��Eyes are the window to ones soul,’ Dazai had once read. He still stood by it years later, when he was clad in brown and missing a few bandages.

Ever the bleeding heart, not fighting wasn’t even a choice. Dazai didn't make it a habit to underestimate people, but Chuuya had always gone above and beyond.

Roaring winds, trees ripped out from the ground, and death. It was enchanting, in a distant, detached sort of way. Oh, it was all very dramatic of course. Ever benevolent, Dazai figured he would refrain from mocking the other, just this once.

Two singularities, beings of mass destruction and very little else.

Throughout it all: Chuuya.

Dazai had caught him. The shorter boy’s mangled and grotesque wings had disappeared in a flash of blue and the red lines marring his body faded, leaving blood and broken bones behind in its wake. 

How anti-climatic, he had mused, holding the shorter’s body in a way that didn’t aggravate his wounds.

Dazai wasn’t blind, he could see parallels. He also wasn’t an idiot, and figured that whatever happened to Soukoku, Dazai do something as inane as turning himself into a singularity. No, they would die together.

Later, sitting beside a certain someone’s bedside and flipping through a book without absorbing much of anything, Dazai would ponder the limits of humans. It would be a very entertaining train of thought, full of witty comments made by himself, to himself. That would be later, of course. 

In the face of the aftermath and the responsibilities that came with it, Dazai was content to dump his workload onto Hirotsu and entertain himself with hearing the beating heart of his much detested partner, annoying him in his sleep by fiddling with the other’s hand and messing up his hair.