#but I noticed a flaw so had to fix it

[peace-hunter]

For the haunted au I had an devilish little thought. Has Optimus ever had a really bad time and when the primes try to give him advice he just shouts "you guy's FAILED!" Like for all their wisdom they couldn't beat the quintisons or see Sentinels betrayal coming?

He feels bad but in his spark he wishes HE didn't have to do what THEY couldn't.

absolutely evil thought that was inflicted upon me months ago and that i finally get to inflict upon the rest of y'all OTL

i can see it happening with the caveat that he immediately regrets saying it. but it's too late. it's the kind of thing you say in the heat of the moment and then feel the ground drop under your feet because you never meant to say it out loud. but now it's out there and you can never unsay it.

it's just. a bad situation all around :(

haunted au

[jackass-jones]

To also go off of the point about cop!akihiko being annoying to me I gotta say that Akihiko as a character is very hit or miss with me because of how different adaptations of p3 will subtly alter his character. I felt like in portable with the femc route he comes off best, he’s a bit of a hothead with an obsession with fighting, but he’s overcompensating his strength so he doesn’t feel as weak and helpless as he’s been in many situations. He defines strength in a very literal sense, being physically strong and using that to protect others, but he’s lacking in emotional strength as a result. And in particular in this version I think he’s portrayed as a bit more goofy and sweet in a sense. He cares deeply for you as a friend and leader but he struggles with finding the words to describe how he feels. Hes kinda naive and gullible and has trouble noticing his surroundings. He has no clue what he’s doing but his heart is in the right place. I think he just comes off much more human and he has flaws, many many flaws, and that makes him all the more lovable

But then in other adaptations and spinoffs it’s like. They look at him through some hetero male bullshit filter and seem to view him as a lot more admirable and cool. Like in p3 dancing, theres literally an event where he’s talking with Junpei and Minato and they’re gushing about how perfect Akihiko is and how he doesn’t seem to have ANY flaws at all. And it becomes clear his inability to flirt with women just gets added as a way to make sure you, the Straight Male Player, don’t get insecure being next to such Perfection because at the end of the day, you’re still more charming and sexy than he will ever be because you’re better. It’s a “flaw” that’s only there to shield a sensitive male ego. And then in arena I mean, come on. He’s overly beefy and is a damn cop and travels the world and loves Protein™️ it’s his whole personality and he’s so clearly meant to be seen as hot but like, he’s just some shitty hetero male fantasy. Hes what the writers deem to be a Perfect Man that every guy wishes he could be, but don’t worry he’s still bad with women so you don’t gotta worry about him stealing your property- I mean, girlfriend!

And though I’ve not played reload and don’t really plan to anytime soon, judging from his social episodes they seem to have a similar problem. Akihiko comes off as a lot less approachable, like the year age gap is just too much of a barrier to get to know him properly. And he doesn’t have that dorky sweetness he has in portable, he’s just that perfect hetero male fantasy guy and don’t you fucking worry- he still has his protein powder with him

[differenteagletragedy]

Part two of this one where Price is your neighbor and falls in love with you but whoops you have an awful gross boyfriend :/

John is a man who embraces his flaws. He knows each and every single one of them by heart, and if he doesn't put time into fixing them, he works long and hard to make them into something useful.

And thank goodness he does, because it turns out that his competitive streak and his slight obsessive tendencies -- the urge to devour the things he loves, to feast on them endlessly until he's either consumed it all or been consumed himself -- would come in handy in his mission to win you over and away from your useless leech of a boyfriend.

For days, every time he sees you, the boyfriend is attached to your side, a parasite sucking all the light and life from you, and it almost hurts John to watch. To see such a pretty little thing like you get used -- because it's obvious to him, from the heart-to-heart you'd had all those weeks ago, as well as just from simple observation, that that's what was happening -- when he could be making you smile, making you happy ... it's a struggle.

But he wants to bide his time. He knows if he comes in to your rescue, guns blazing, it could backfire, that even if he knows in his bones that you are meant to belong to him, it might seem overwhelming and presumptuous at best to make such a declaration so early.

"I'm glad he's back," you tell him the first time he gets you alone -- a Wednesday night in the laundry room of your shared apartment complex. "I think things are working out better this time, I really do."

"Is that so?" he replies in a carefully measured tone. He shoots you a tight grin that he knows good and well doesn't meet his eyes as he moves his clothes from the washer to the dryer.

You give him a look, one that tells him that you know he knows you're bullshitting, and he lets out a small laugh.

"I don't mean to rain on your parade, love, truly, I don't," he tells you. "But I seem to remember you being none too happy about the man. You didn't exactly paint a happy picture when you spoke of him, yeah?"

You sigh as you take each individual piece of clothing from the dryer, folding it neatly and placing it in your basket, and he tries not to notice how much it gets under his skin to see your lovely, careful hands smoothing out your boyfriend's clothes before mixing them in with your own.

"I know," you admit softly. "But he's here, and he's trying ... well, trying for him. And maybe that's better than being alone."

John wants nothing more than to pull you away from the machines, to press you against the wall and kiss you until all that sad resignation was gone from your voice. He wants to hold you until you understand that you deserve more than the scraps of a pathetic man too stupid, self-involved or both to realize what a treasure he had in you.

But he's playing the long game now. So instead, he hums thoughtfully, then says, "You ever think that there's another option?"

You grin, and it's a shot of warmth to his chest, a cozy little feeling that spreads out and over him and god, he wants so much more of that.

Before you can respond, a buzzer goes off -- your second load of laundry, ready to be dried. It breaks the moment, but that's all right. John is a patient man. He can create another.

A week or two later, he's heading out for a bit, a quick trip to the shops to pick up some groceries. As he's walking to his parking spot, he hears raised voices, and when he pinpoints one of them as yours, he walks faster.

He sees you standing by your car, looking as cute as ever wrapped up in your winter coat, and your boyfriend kneeling on the ground by your rear right tire. It's flat, and there's a jack and a tire iron lying on the pavement near it, but no real work done on repairing the situation.

"Look, it's not a big deal," John hears you tell your boyfriend, the frustration apparent in your voice like this is your fourth or fifth time repeating this same line. "I'll call someone to come fix it, it's --"

"I can fix the fucking tire, Jesus Christ," the boyfriend barks, and for John, that's quite enough of that.

"There a problem?" he asks, a bit of the Captain coming out in his tone as he glares down at the other man.

"Just a flat tire," you tell him. "Someone is pretending they know how to change it, but --"

"For the last time, I know how to change the goddamn tire, your piece of shit car is just --"

"Let me have a go then," John interrupts, his lips in a tight line.

The boyfriend rises, moving to stand in front of John. He has an inch or two on him, and he clearly tries to use them to intimidate John, which is a ridiculous enough move that both men can hear you bite back a laugh.

It's a pissing contest, pure and simple, but John is playing to win. He stands his ground, staring steady until the boyfriend sighs and gestures to the tire, inviting him to take over.

As John goes to take over the job, the boyfriend purposefully brushes against his shoulder with his own, leaning in to growl, "She's not going to fuck you for changing her tire, old man."

The remark was just low enough for you to miss up, but pointed enough for John to imagine a number of scenarios in quick succession, most of them involving the tire iron and shutting up the boyfriend's rotten mouth for good. But again, John is all smooth control, so he just pats the man's shoulder before he gets down on his knees and begins, with little trouble, the process of changing the tire.

It's at some point before the new tire is put on that the boyfriend storms back inside, muttering some feeble remark about not feeling like going out anymore. When he leaves, you move closer to John, watching him as easily continues the job.

"Thank you," you say softly. "You didn't have to do this."

He smiles up at you quickly before his eyes go back to the tire, and says, "Quite all right, sweetheart. No trouble at all."

When he's done, he packs everything back up for you, tucking it all in your trunk. You protest, trying to grab the tools from him, but it's easy enough for him to out-maneuver you. He holds the tire iron up high, out of your reach, and you laugh easily, all earlier tension gone, and the difference in you when you're with him, when it's just the two of you, is almost enough to make him ache with longing.

You thank him again, tell him again that he didn't have to help, and a bit of his resolve snaps. He doesn't want much more time to go by without you knowing that you deserve that kind of help, those simple, easy little acts of kindness.

"Tell you what," he says, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial tone. "If it makes you feel more at ease, you can pay me back for the labor."

"Yeah, sure," you reply earnestly. "How much?"

"One cup of coffee. That's my rate."

You gift him with another bright smile as you pick up on the offer, but he sees your eyes glance towards the apartment building.

"I maybe shouldn't," you respond. "My boyfriend is --"

"Not here," John finishes the sentence for you. "And I, the man who just slaved away to do a repair on your vehicle, am."

"... So you are."

He grins, lowering his voice just a smidge more, adding "Quite thirsty too."

You laugh, then gesture for him to get in your car -- an agreement, for coffee, at least.

It's a small victory, but as John well knows, that's how wars are won.

PART THREE -- PART FOUR

[indecisivemuch]

Scandalous

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: The reveal of a scandalous detail about yours and Luke's relationship left you both flustered and everybody else gaping. Inspired by one line from So It Goes - Taylor Swift (fluff, established relationship).

Warning: allusions to sex, but no explicit details.

Word count: 2k

You and Luke have been going out for well over a year now. Yet, he never failed to make you feel like it would be an eternal honeymoon phase: whispers of sweet words about a lifetime’s worth of promises, delicate and sacred touches, looks filling in for unspoken words.

Loving Luke was as easy as having a daily routine - so natural and almost like a grounding thing from the life of a Demigod.

Currently, Luke was training with Percy. You were not too far away either, sparring with Clarisse. Despite the area being occupied by many other Demigods engaging in similar activities, Luke could not help but frequently glance over at you.

Luke has always been mesmerized by the way you combat, which he metaphorically compared to a ballerina. So precise, yet deadly. Every move was with intention and purpose. 

The way sweat glided down the side of your face, your cheeks flushed from fighting, eyes darting with strategy, heavy pants in between dodging and attacking your opponent, the smirk hinted on your face - all of it made Luke’s mind grow flustered. Somehow, he found everything you do attractive.

If he was honest, his mind seemed to be doing nothing lately but think of you, especially when you’re not beside him. The memories he has harvested over your time together only transformed his brain into a cinema, which constantly played montages of you. Every morning, he’d wake up from a dream about you to the sight of you in his arms - that is before he had to sneak out of your cabin back to his. You constantly occupy every cell in his mind, like an uncontainable virus spreading. Yet, for some reason, he was not scared. He welcomed this feeling with his whole arms wide open.

You broke eye contact with Clarisse to look at Luke. Almost instantly, your eyes melted into ones filled with adoration and his own eyes mirrored the same emotions - if not tenfold. 

You were absolutely enamored with how Luke looked at you. Even before dating each other, people have mentioned the eyes he was giving you. But being oblivious, you did not see what they were talking about. However, it all became clear when you started dating. You started noticing how he would look at you like you were a rare artwork he would most likely never see again or a shooting star - a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence kind of thing that left him in awe all the time. He would do it so endearingly as if it would help to absorb every detail of you and imprint them into his memory. His looks have always made you feel loved - like you were the only thing that mattered to him, as if he has not told you this verbally and through actions already. Usually, you’d feel slightly insecure if somebody was staring so intensely at you, but he did it in a way that made you feel like your flaws were created to be loved for. 

However, a gasp escaped your lips as Luke was showered by a wave of the ocean. Everybody else also drew their attention to the head of Hermes’ cabin and the newly claimed Poseidon kid.

When Luke looked back at Percy, he was faced with a sheepish grin.

“I had to get your attention somehow. I tried calling your name like ten times already,” Percy shrugged his shoulder with feigned innocence, but the glint of mischief told Luke that the kid was anything but feeling guilty about soaking him from head to toe. 

“Percy,” Luke groaned as he could feel the fabric of his clothes cling to his body. Percy bashfully chuckled and offered another sheepish look to the counselor who was meant to train him. 

The cool water did offer a temporary fix to the boiling summer heat. But mixing that with sweat, combat, and Luke's long-sleeved shirt underneath was disastrous. The Hermes boy sighed as he slowly took off the bright orange camp shirt. After struggling slightly, he managed to pull the shirt off from over his head. However, the gray shirt he was wearing underneath got pulled up more than slightly from the extra friction between wet fabrics, revealing the majority of his back to Percy and others. 

He did not think much of it until gasps - including yours - could be heard as this happened. Chris even whistled as he and everybody else spotted what Luke did not notice.

“What?” Luke asked as he pulled down his gray shirt and started wringing his camp t-shirt, trying to rid it from being as wet as possible. 

“Damn, did you get mauled by a minotaur or something?” Percy asked. 

Almost immediately, Luke paled at Percy’s words as he realized what the kid was talking about.

Indeed, as Luke’s gray shirt underneath got pulled up, which revealed the majority of his back, this had also put on display the scratches down his back left from nights that he spent with you. Some were evidently old and healing, as seen by how Luke’s skin was patching itself up and matching closer to his skin tone. Others were somewhat freshly red, while a few were like wounds being reopened. To make matters worse, they could spot the occasional crescent shape bruises that were indentations of your nails. 

Considering your guys’ relationship was not a secret, there was no room to deny it if somebody pointed fingers at you. You blushed as people now averted their eyes to you as if this was the most scandalous thing all year. Clarisse and Chris, on the other hand, were both smirking. 

The whole camp knew you were the one who left those scratches there, and you sincerely wish you could dig a hole to hide yourself from all the attention right now.

Luke’s eyes darted to you, and you offered him an awkward smile as your face grew a darker shade of red.

“No, seriously, dude, you gotta get it checked out at the infirmary. How did that even happen?” Percy only continued, somehow actually clueless about the cause of those marks. You could see Annabeth sending Percy a somewhat side-eye from nearby at his words while Grover let out a deep sigh. 

You started approaching the two, hoping you could intervene and save the both of you from this situation.

“Uhm…well,” Luke started, unsure how to even answer the kid or divert the attention elsewhere as his cheeks flushed and ears tinted pink from trying to ignore memories of what you two had done the night before.

The Hermes boy has jokingly sweet-talked you before on how he might walk out shirtless after one of your rendezvous to show off the marks you left on him. Never would you two think that that idea would ever happen like this.

“Yeah, I reckon you should get that checked out,” you decided to say as you reached Luke, settling your hand on Luke’s lower back and greeting Percy. “Thank you for worrying about him.”

“Yeah, no problem. I mean, it must have been quite a minotaur to land that much of a number on him,” Percy somehow carried on and was utterly oblivious to Clarisse and Chris, who almost bursted out laughing at his latest comment. You, on the other hand, squinted your eyes at the kid. You turned to Luke and you could see it in his eyes that the boy was on the verge of laughing as well. You were sure he would have done so if it were not for your glare.

“Well, we best go heal those wounds now, right Luke?” you gave your boyfriend a look, hoping he would get the message to play along.

“Right,” he agreed almost instantly. 

“Alright, bye, Percy,” you hastily spoke, before dragging Luke by his hand away from everybody's eyes.

“Bye guys,” you could hear the kid’s voice as the both of you retreated. It felt like a walk of shame as the semi-crowd parted ways for you two to leave the scene. You immediately let out a deep breath as soon as nobody was near anymore.

“Gods, that was so embarrassing. The kid basically repeatedly called me a minotaur.”

“I mean…you can be my minotaur?” Luke cheekily jested, trying to tease you a bit more over the situation.

“Oh, no, no, no, we’re not making that a thing. No, absolutely not are you ever gonna make that a nickname,” Luke only laughed at your reaction before wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you into a hug. As he did so, you wrapped both your arms around his waist, face colliding with his chest the way it would usually do when you guys cuddle. He gave you a few peppered kisses on your forehead, close to your hairline. 

“They’re never gonna let us live that down, will they?” You asked after letting out a muffled groan against his chest.

“Nope,” Luke admitted. Despite the Hermes boy usually easing away your worries, even he knew this would be the talk around camp for a while. Nevertheless, he unwrapped his arms around you and cupped your face with both hands. Using his callus-filled hands, yet gentle touch, he soothed your furrowed eyebrows by rubbing over them to urge you from scowling.

“But…you know what? I’m kind of glad this happened. Sure, it might be awkward and a tad bit embarrassing. But now, they finally get to see how lucky I am to have been given a chance by such a gorgeous and sweet Demigod. And…” he paused, giving you a quick kiss. “This way, any guy potentially still after you know to keep their hands off.” He cheekily winked at you after saying so. 

Gods, you remember how jealous Luke would get before you were together. It was lowkey hot to see him so riled up. Though, after the both of you got together, you have always reassured him that you had eyes on him and only him. 

“I guess that also means any girls still thinking they could steal you from me would know they have no chance?” you questioned, smiling ear to ear when he nodded eagerly at your words.

“Exactly. That’s a win-win in my book. I’m not embarrassed they saw what you left on me. They could talk for all I care. So stop worrying, or else you’ll start getting wrinkles,” he lightly flicked the area between your furrowed eyebrows. As you were about to complain, he quickly kissed you right where he previously flicked you, and that immediately melted away any bit of feigned irritation you had with him. He chuckled at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows untangling itself.

“Thank you,” you muttered, showing your gratitude towards Luke. 

If Luke had a superpower, it would probably be calming you down. He has always managed to tame your emotions whenever they were drowning you. He was like an anchor to you, always grounded you during chaotic times. Sometimes, you wonder how you got so lucky. 

You peered up at him sweetly, and the look alone made him lean down to capture your lips with his again. You chuckled at his action and kissed him back with just as much passion as he was leaving on your lips. Your hands started playing with the hair close to the nape of his neck. He let out a content sigh while still showing your lips just how much he loved them and you. However, he abruptly pulled away before dropping a question. 

“Are we really going to the infirmary?” Luke hesitantly asked, bringing up your words from earlier. He watched as you gave him an amused look.

“What did you think?” As soon as his eyes met yours, he knew exactly what you wanted. He gave you a sheepish grin before the two of you quietly giggled to each other before walking further away from the training grounds.

Let's just say you two did not follow through with your words of going to the infirmary, and neither were you tending to his “wounds”.

——————————

masterlist

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[sunni-stuff]

HEYY so I was wondering if you could make a small story about Simon x New!Medic!Reader and getting interested by her because she managed to punch the daylights out of a soldier that was bothering her. And maybe out of interest getting to know each other better *wink* *wink* 😏😏

Eye-catching

Of course, he noticed you. Ghost noticed everything.

You, the shiny new recruit, brought a buzz to the force that was hard to ignore.

When Price first mentioned you, Ghost had snorted dismissively at your file. Price was adamant about your potential, swearing by the renowned doctor who had trained you and recounting your impressive handiwork he'd witnessed firsthand. Price only picked the best.

But Ghost had his reservations. In his eyes, your lack of field experience was a glaring flaw. Still, it wasn't his call to make. If Price vouched for you, Ghost would reserve judgment.

Your arrival on the base was met with indifference from Ghost. He barely acknowledged your polite "hello's" and attempts to connect. You weren't the Cap'n, and you certainly weren't Soap, who, for some unfathomable reason, couldn't stop singing your praises.

Since day one, Soap had been relentless. In the mess hall, he went on about how sweet you were and how Ghost should at least introduce himself properly—after all, you were teammates. If that wasn't enough, when Gaz got injured on a mission, you stitched him up with such skill that he barely felt any pain. Gaz, too, joined the chorus of your admirers, extolling your expert skills as a medic.

It seemed everyone on the team adored you, speaking of you as if you were a miracle worker. To Ghost, you were just a decent medic at best; he saw nothing worth bragging about.

How wrong he was.

About a month after your arrival, Ghost injured his shoulder sparring with Soap. He'd really messed it up, the strain and tension becoming a constant burden. He tried to push through it, gritting his teeth and refusing to let a mere shoulder injury slow him down. For a week, he endured, hissing in pain as he lifted weights, struggling with loads he would usually handle effortlessly. Stubborn as ever, he refused to visit the med bay.

This went on until the following week when Soap, unable to take it any longer, practically scolded the lieutenant for his hard-headedness and dragged him to the medic bay himself.

You were already in the middle of organizing supplies when Soap and Ghost walked in. Ghost, begrudgingly being led, looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. Soap's face lit up when he saw you, and he immediately started talking about Ghost's shoulder, explaining the situation while Ghost stood there, a grimace on his masked face.

You turned around, offering a warm smile despite Ghost's obvious displeasure. "Lieutenant," you greeted him politely, "why don't you have a seat, and I'll take a look at that shoulder."

Ghost hesitated but finally gave in, taking a seat on the examination table. Soap, satisfied with his handiwork, gave you a quick pat on the shoulder before leaving you to your work.

The room was quiet as you began your examination, your hands gentle but firm as you checked for any signs of injury. Ghost watched you with a mix of skepticism and curiosity, trying to gauge whether you were as good as everyone said.

"Looks like you pulled a muscle pretty badly," you said after a few minutes, "but it's nothing I can't fix." You were about to approach and help fix up the lieutenant's troublesome arm when a loud commotion erupted outside. "Excuse me, I'll be right back," you said, stepping out of your office.

An argument was unfolding between a medic-in-training you recognized as Sherry and a soldier you've heard unsavory things about named Allen. Sherry looked nervous, staring at her boots while Allen yelled at her. "I don't want some fresh-blood working on me. Where's Dr. Whitfield?"

Stepping between them, you patted Sherry on the shoulder, positioning yourself protectively in front of her. "I'm sorry, Dr. Whitfield is on family leave right now, but both Sherry and I are qualified to help."

Allen glared down at you, attempting to use his height to intimidate. "I'd rather have someone reliable to help me, not some trainee or a medic with a shiny new coat."

You smiled, recognizing his type immediately. Gently pressing a hand to his shoulder, you said, "While I understand your concern, there is no one more reliable than us, as we are directly trained under Dr. Whitfield. So please, follow me." You attempted to guide him to an empty room, but he jerked his arm away and flicked your forehead while you were stunned. "Are you hard of hearing? I just said—"

Standing your ground, you brushed off his flick and cut him off. "I heard what you said, but if you're going to be an asshole, you should go. Sherry, there's another patient down the hall."

Turning to let Sherry be on her way, you were about to head back to Ghost when Allen suddenly grabbed your wrist, forcing you to face him. "So that's it? Is no one going to tend to me?"

"I've already told you your options. You insist on rejecting what I'm offering. Now let me go." You tried to pull your arm back, but Allen's grip was relentless. His insistence on disregarding your expertise and blatant disrespect tested your patience. "Let me go."

Allen didn't take you seriously, clearly thinking he could talk to the "new kid" however he wanted. Before he could react, your fist shot out, connecting solidly with his jaw.

The impact echoed through the hall as Allen stumbled back, clutching his face in shock. The surrounding soldiers and medics turned to watch, their expressions a mix of surprise and approval.

You stepped back, maintaining your stance. "Anyone else have a problem with the medical staff?" you asked, your voice steady and commanding.

There was a brief silence before Allen, still holding his jaw, muttered something under his breath and stormed off. You returned to Ghost, an apologetic look on your face. "I'm sorry for that. Give me one minute to wash my hands."

Ghost watched as you disappeared into the bathroom within your office, absolutely stunned by what he had just witnessed. He had observed the entire ordeal, ready to intervene if necessary, but he found himself taken aback by how well you had handled the situation—better than he had expected.

The image of you standing your ground and delivering that sharp, decisive punch replayed in his mind. He had seen plenty of confrontations, both on and off the battlefield, but your composed and resolute demeanor in the face of Allen’s aggression was remarkable.

He had underestimated you, and that realization was both surprising and impressive. You weren’t just a medic; you had the grit and determination that demanded respect.

Ghost saw you through a more transparent lens. How the curve of your figure swayed as you walked, the resolute look on your face when you stood your ground, and how much you clearly loved your job.

♡! I know you said short story but you gave me an idea for atleast one or two more parts!!! I'm ngl this ask couldnt have come at a better time bc I was absolutely cooked with writers block.. thank you for your service. 💞

Ghost felt a different kind of throb and this time it wasn't his arm.

P.S. this wasn't proofread.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

you left me - aiku, otoya (lover —> them)

you left me - sae, kaiser (lover —> them)

you left me - kaiser, isagi (them —> lover)

you left me - bachira, reo (them —> lover)

——————

i love you - chigiri, reo (them —> lover)

i love you - karasu, rin (them —> lover)

i love you - bachira, ness (lover —> them)

i love you - kaiser, karasu, isagi (lover <—> them)

——————

i saw the “only a reader/writer can tell the difference” trend on tiktok, so here’s my analysis on it:

you left me - a lover who got cheated on or abandoned moved on, but the person who cheated suddenly realizes how miserable their life is without them and they go crawling back to them before the one they cheated on yells at them and says “you left me, so don’t come crawling back to me begging for me to take you back!”

you left me - a lover who is more hurt by the fact that they left rather than the fact that they probably don’t love them anymore or had some sort of tragic reason of why they left. an argument in the rain after the breakup where the abandoned lover goes “you left me. i loved you—no, i love you—and yet you still left me. why?”

you left me - a lover who was abandoned by their partner, but they’re in shock that they could ever get abandoned by anyone. i mean, after everything they’ve done for them, they just end up getting abandoned? they loved them, and yet they only ended up getting left behind and picking up the fragmented pieces of their heart.

you left me - this whole situation is just painful to them. it’s almost like a whisper when it comes out of their mouth, something that could harm them just by hearing it. they never knew that they could feel this much pain, that they could ever feel the rain pour on their heartstrings this much because of abandonment.

——————

i love you - a confident or a person of high status telling someone to stop being insecure of themselves, because some like them loves them. that since they are worthy of their love, they have nothing to dislike about themselves, that they had fixed them and managed to get them to love them when no one else could.

i love you - almost as if someone is comforting another who is in denial that they don’t just simply like them; they’re not fond of them, but they love them. that they’re so unimaginably important to them, that they simply continue with basic human survival without them. that they bring out a feeling that no one else can.

i love you - similar to the first one, but this one is more gentle with the comforting and also less narcissistic. they tell their insecure lover about how they love them to a heart wrenching amount, that they love them so much that they can’t point out a single flaw or mistake of theirs and can only see their beauties.

i love you - almost as if it’s a quiet prayer or even a passing yet elating thought, it’s the feeling of warmth of one’s skin. it’s the feeling of noticing your eyes lingering on someone for a bit too long. it’s the feeling of smiling uncontrollably when even the smallest and stupidest of romantic situations happen. it’s love, true love.

——————

sorry i yapped again guys😭🫶

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

hellooo! can I request something with dexter? maybe him having his first normal relationship? normal by his standards. someone accepting all his flaws and everything that comes with dating him.

Basically! Someone who he can be himself completely

Darkly Devoted

Pairing: Dexter Morgan x Reader

Summary: Dexter Morgan’s First Normal Relationship—And He’s Over the Moon About It

Author's note: Hii hope you enjoy! Dexter is so cute!

Dexter Morgan never thought he’d have a relationship like this.

Correction—he never thought he could have a relationship like this.

Not with everything that he was. Not with the Dark Passenger lurking in his every thought, whispering in his ear, dictating the things he had to do.

But then you came along.

And suddenly, everything changed.

The first time Dexter realized he didn’t have to hide from you, it nearly short-circuited his brain.

He was so used to pretending—to fabricating a version of himself that fit into the world. He’d done it with Rita. With Lila. With Lumen. Even Hannah. There was always something he had to keep buried, locked behind a carefully crafted facade.

But with you, there was no mask. Because you knew. You knew everything. And you stayed. More than that, you accepted him.

The first time he told you about his Dark Passenger, you had listened—not with horror, not with disgust, but with quiet, thoughtful interest.

“I always knew there was something different about you,” you had said, studying him like a puzzle you were excited to solve. “I just didn’t know it was this.”

And then, the question that changed everything:

“Do you ever feel like… this makes you who you are? Like you wouldn’t be you without it?”

Dexter had stared at you, his usual sharp mind unable to form a response.

Because, for the first time in his life, someone had understood him.

Not feared him. Not tried to fix him.

Understood.

Now, months later, Dexter is happier than he’s ever been.

He didn’t even think happiness was something he wanted—but apparently, it is. Because every time he looks at you, every time you roll over in bed and mumble his name in that sleepy, content voice, every time you lean up on your toes and press a kiss to his jaw just because you felt like it—his chest does this tight, foreign thing.

He likes it. He loves it. And the best part? You love him. The real him.

Not the mask. Not the carefully curated version of himself he used to present to the world. Just him.

It still catches him off guard sometimes. Like now.

You’re sitting on the couch, watching a movie, your legs draped over his lap as you absently run your fingers along the veins in his forearm.

He’s not even watching the movie anymore. He’s just watching you.

You notice, of course—you always notice.

“What?” you ask, amused, tilting your head.

Dexter shakes his head, his lips twitching into something dangerously close to a full-on smile.

“You really like touching me,” he observes, glancing down at the way your fingers trace along his wrist, ghosting over the tendons with no hesitation, no wariness.

You hum, turning your attention back to the screen. “You’re my boyfriend,” you say simply, like that explains everything.

And maybe it does.

Because the word boyfriend still sends a strange, electric thrill through him.

It’s the most normal thing in the world.

And yet, for him, it’s everything.

His fingers twitch where they rest on your thigh, a silent reminder that he’s still adjusting to this whole affection thing. But he doesn’t pull away.

He never pulls away from you.

Because you are the one thing in his life he never wants to hide from.

Later that night, as you’re getting ready for bed, Dexter watches you from the doorway, arms crossed, a rare softness in his gaze.

“You’re staring again,” you tease, glancing at him through the mirror as you tie your hair up.

Dexter doesn’t even try to deny it.

“I know.”

You shake your head, amused, walking up to him and poking his chest. “What’s going on in that big, scary brain of yours?”

His lips twitch. “Nothing scary.”

“Liar.”

A pause. Then, he exhales, tilting his head slightly.

“I think I’m just… really happy.”

You blink, as if caught off guard by the admission. “Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

Your face softens, and then you’re wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss that he leans into without hesitation.

Because he doesn’t have to pretend anymore.

Not with you.

And that’s better than any kill high he’s ever had.

[existence-is-a-pain87]

Can you do self-aware, Astro and shelly?

Already sort of did one with Shelly, but I can most certainly do Astro! (I've been really wanting to make something for Astro).

Just Go To Sleep...

Yandere!Self-Aware!Astro x Reader

Warnings: Obsession and other general yandere behaviors

--☆☆☆☆☆--

Astro wasn't really interested in you at first.

So what if they could hear a player now? What's that going to change?

Then he learned of your DAMN sleep schedule.

And he was horrified.

What do you mean you don't get at least eight hours a night? What do you mean you've stayed up several times for an hour or two to play things like Dandy's World? What do you mean you've done it when you had to wake up at practically six or earlier the next day?!

And what made it so much worse was your remarks about 'not needing the sleep' or 'being able to handle it'.

That was made Astro start to care. Not about you, per say.

But definitely about your trashy sleep schedule that he desperately needs to fix.

He didn't have many passion projects, but you were going to be a welcome first.

He would make sure you actually would sleep at night.

--☆☆☆--

Astro soon learned you never remembered your dreams. And the few you could remember were never the types of dreams you wanted to have.

Maybe if he could fix this, you'd be more willing to sleep?

Oh, you also take forever to fall asleep?

Okay, he could work on fixing that too.

The only problem is getting his powers to affect you in your world...

That would be an issue he would work on later, he decided. First, we would figure out how to get you to stop playing to late and sleep...

It started off quite simple. Twisted Astro would just spawn a ton more when you stayed up later playing.

However, much to his annoyance, you'd just be happy to have more Astro research and would happily not be bothered as he spawned.

So he began spawning on every single floor until he killed you, and made you give up and go to bed.

Of course, though, his constant spawns made you start to get stunningly good at dealing with him.

So he began upping his aggression the later you stayed up until he would inevitably kill you. Or at least the Toon you played as.

He could ignore the complaints the others voiced at him forcing you to log off and go to sleep, them getting attached to you.

Astro didn't care. He just wanted to make sure you slept.

He didn't even notice he was getting attached.

--☆☆☆--

Astro was the one who heard all of Dandy's rambles about you.

He was a little scared by his friend's obsession with you, worrying for the flower who seemed to crave you.

Craving wholly and entirely you.

Astro tried not to bring up his concerns, especially when Dandy was so gleeful that Astro was putting in so much effort to ensure you had a healthy sleep schedule.

Dandy was just gleeful, his closest friend also liked you.

Astro tried to pretend that he didn't like you, that he didn't understand why his friends and the Toons around him were growing obsessed, that images of you didn't haunt him when he slept and made him crave to have the real you with him.

He was lying to himself.

But Astro didn't pretend to dislike you.

Yes, there were things about you he didn't adore, such as your rashness, stubbornness, and self-hatred.

But your positives far outweighed your negatives.

You were flawed, but these flaws only made the beautiful parts of you more amazing.

--☆☆☆--

Never has Astro been more happy for Vee's soft spot for him.

Why? Because she told him a surprising amount of little tidbits of information she learned.

And he would share some of these tidbits with the other Toons.

He told Sprout and Cosmo about your favorite foods? He caught them later practicing how to make all these treats until they were perfect for you.

He mentioned to Goob and Scraps art projects you wanted to try? He found them working on figuring out how to do it themselves so they could teach you.

He told Shelly your favorite dinosaur- huh? She already knew..?

...

Weird. She doesn't seem willing to explain why she knows anyway. He decides not to ask more if she refuses to tell.

But he does worry a bit now...

Especially since everyone is getting as clingy and obsessive over you as Dandy is...

Including him.

--☆☆☆--

You're haunting everyone's dreams.

Astro's seen it. Whisps of you in everyone's head, being a figure of comfort and even worship.

He saw them adore you. How they craved you desperately. How each viewed you differently, desired you in certain ways.

And how their love became obsession. Desperate obsession that scared Astro.

But what scared him the most was how he, too, had that obsession.

He couldn't dream. But you haunted him in his every moment. Fleeting whispers of you that made him crave the real thing.

He wanted to hold you, keep you in a blissful dream that you'd never want to wake up from, and could return to that dream whenever you pleased. Make this dream to be whatever you want it to be, and make it joyful to you.

He wanted to keep you close, all of his arms wrapped around you. Cup your peaceful, sleeping face as he gently presses a kiss to your forehead. To join you in that dream and be a figure of comfort.

Be one of the few who love you who doesn't allow their obsession to corrupt them and be a figure of peace.

Who, despite the obsession, doesn't act upon the darker urges beyond wanting you near him.

He could control himself, he swore upon it.

--☆☆☆--

Astro was more than willing to help in Dandy's plan.

Why wouldn't he be? It's a chance to finally see the real you.

What surprised him the most was how willing everyone else was to join in on this plan.

Somehow, even Shrimpo and Vee were convinced to help the plan.

It make him fully realize just how much everyone craved your presence. How they were so much more willing to act upon their dark desires.

He realized he needed to protect you from these dark desires. To shield you from the dark things the others seeked to do to you.

He wanted to protect you. To keep you healthy. To keep you happy.

But most of all, fix your damn sleep schedule.

This is why your stubbornness pisses him off. Even now, you stay up late playing the game until he kills you and makes you sleep.

So, for the sake of their Creators and Gods... For the sake of him keeping his love as pure as he could... To resist the dark urges and obsession he had with you...

Just go to sleep...

[mcsstydia]

Faking it - Finnick Odair

prompt: you won the hunger games, now snow forces you to sell your body. your mentor, finnick odair, proposes the both of you fake a relationship so the capitol citizens won’t be interested in you anymore.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

Warnings: mentions of forced sexual labor

word count: 2.2k

Masterlist

You won the hunger games. After weeks of fighting to survive, of hiding, of pure fright, of killing children who were not much older than you, you won the games. Now, a lifetime of glory and wealth awaited you, right?

You could have never been more wrong. You could have guessed that there was a flaw to what was promised to you. Sometimes, before and also after the games, your mentor, finnick odair, would look at you with a kind of concealed sadness, as if he knew there was something just as bad as the games would wait for you once you survived.

Finnick was 19, only two years older than you, but you had a feeling sometimes you could see in his eyes he had already endured a lifetime worth of pain. Turns out, your feeling was right about the amount of pain his heart had to carry.

Two months after you've won the games, when you've returned home, on a late Wednesday afternoon, Finnick rang the bell at your new house in the victor village. As you opened the door, you were unexpectedly greeted with the handsome man that was Finnick Odair. You had had a crush on him for forever, and it had only intensified during the time where he was your mentor.

Your stomach began to turn in nervous circles. Why was he here? Did he come to see you? Spend time with you even? Wait, that was not it. You could see it in his face. You were good at reading him.

His gaze rose from where it had been previously fixed on the ground to meet yours. There it was again, that sadness. ''What happened?'', you asked, scared it had to do with your mother, who was out of the house for the evening. ''Your mother is alright.'', Finnick said calmly, as if having read your mind.

You visibly relaxed and exhaled. Nonetheless, your grip around the edge of the door did not loosen. ''Then what it is?'', you asked anxiously, trying to seem collected, composed. But Finnick knew you almost as well as you did him.

''Can I come inside?'', he asked in turn. You nodded silently, your body began buzzing with anxiety. The pleasant turns your stomach initially performed upon seeing Finnick had now turned into unpleasant ones. Finnick headed for your living room and you followed him blindly. He pulled up an armchair and gestured you to take place on the couch. He placed the armchair so it was right in front of the couch. Both of you sat down, and then he gently took both of your hands into his large, warm ones.

This is how bad it was? Normally, you would jump in the air at the touch of his hands on your skin. Now, you could feel the colour draining from your face and the warmth leaving your hands in dread of what was to come.

''Just tell me'', you demanded. You knew he would search for the best way to tell you, to somehow sugar-coat it. Finnick looked at you, and you knew he could see in your eyes that this was what you needed.

''Snow sells the good-looking winners to the citizens of the capitol. At least their body. And now he wants to sell you.'', he said. For a moment, the information had to sink in. Then, you could feel the remaining control you had had over your facial muscles seep away. All expression fell from your face, your eyes made no effort to conceal the tears that came flooding in, and your hands began shaking in the gentle hold Finnick had on them.

His grip around your hands strenghtened, but stayed gentle. ''No…'', you managed to breath out, shaking your head in disbelief. You could feel all the strength leaving your body. Finnick seemed to notice, or he had anticipated it, because he caught your head as it fell toward him, his hands gently cupping the sides of your face. A thought came to your mind about the person you cared most for in this world. In between ragged breaths, you managed to ask ''Did he do it to you?'' The look in his eyes was all you needed to know it was true.

Loud, ugly sobs escaped your lips and you made no effort to hide them. Finnick made no effort to calm you, he knew there was no point in telling you it was all going to be okay. ''I've got you,'', he whispered into single strands of hair, your head still in his hands.

He rocked your body back and forth in an attempt to tell you he was there, and he wouldn't leave. He had begun to do that on the first night after your name was drawn for the games. You had been in the train on your way to the capitol, as he found you on the floor, weeping. He held you the whole night, until you had finally managed to fall asleep. He had rocked you gently, had promised to get you out of the arena alive.

At this point, you had thought he would tell that to every young girl he would mentor. Now, you came to the tentative conclusion that you meant something to him.

Suddenly, he whispered, ''I have a plan,''. The sentence brought you back to reality. His hands never leaving your face, you managed to lift your head just so much as to be able to look in his eyes. His beautiful face was blurred by the tears still in your eyes, and by your already-swollen eyelids. He looked at you with concern, and care, and suddenly you knew you were anything to him but simply another tribute he had to mentor.

You realised you were more than important to him. His next sentences only proved how much you meant to him. ''I won't let him do that to you,'', he began, wiping away one of your tears with his thumb. You could also see fear in his eyes, but it was fear for your wellbeing, for your life.

''It's risky,'', he continued and breathed in. ''But I would risk it, for you.'', a deeper meaning of his words hung in the air, but it was not important now. ''If we fake to be in a relationship, Snow can't sell you. The capitol citizens would then never want to tear us apart.'', he explained. His word registered in your head, and the word fake sent a painful, but quickly fading, stab into your chest.

''Would they believe it?'', you asked. Finnick allowed himself to smile, and his fingers carressed your cheeks. You thought you could read him well, but you weren't so sure now. His expression screamed 'of course they'll believe us, look at how in love I am with you', but he couldn't really think that. He couldn't. You would know if he had feelings for you, and you were sure he did not.

Something brought him back from his thoughts into the situation. So he said, ''I hope they do. That's why I said it's risky. If they do not believe it, if Snow does not believe it, we would be in a lot of trouble.'' You pressed your lips together, and then nodded. ''Why would you do that for me?'', you asked, and then imeediately wanted to take the question back.

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. ''Because I care about you.'', he whispered, holding your gaze. ''Once we do this,'', he continued. ''there's no going back. It will be us against the world, probably until we die. Do you realize that?'', he asked.

For once, you hoped he could not read your face, or your thoughts for that matter. Did you realize that? Yes. Was it scary? Of course. But was it scary because that meant you had to spend the rest of your life with him? No. That was the only part of this whole thing that sounded like heaven. Instead of telling him any of this, you nodded as an answer.

The next weeks Finnick and you prepared your 'relationship'. You got to know each other better, to make it seem as realistic as possible that you were in love. Many nights were spent like this, quietly, so as even your mother would not know. Many nights ended with your head in his lap, with his fingers running through your hair. Many nights, in which the both of you fell asleep on your couch, or in his bed, all the while holding on to each other.

When your victory tour began, while visiting the districts, you made apparent that you were a couple. Word quickly got out about the new power couple of victors. On the nights on the train, Finnick often lay next to you, to hold you through your cries. It was agonizing to visit the districts of the children who died in the games you were a part of.

Your new relationship was so important to the capitol citizens, that, once in the capitol, both finnick and you were invited to Ceasar Flickerman's show. So you sat there, with Finnick next you, his hand in yours. You had gotten used to the pleasant feeling that was ilicited whenever he touched you. You had gotten used to having him near, so it was not hard to appear happy next to him. It had never been, though.

The people loved you. Everyone adored the two of you together. So much so, that president Snow let go of forcing you into selling your body to the citizens of the capitol. For now.

For now, you were on your way back home from the capitol to district 4. For now, there was the slight hope that things would stay that way, and it was all thanks to Finnick. On this first night on your way back home, you hadn't asked Finnick to come into your room. He had spent the night next to you for the whole of the victory tour, calming you down, holding you when you cried.

But now? You thought Finnick was tired of taking care of you every night. You thought Finnick deserved a night to himself. After all, he wouldn't get many of those anymore that you were in a 'relationship' with him. So you lay there, on your bed, your hands neatly folded on your stomach, your thoughts almost as loud as the train on the tracks. When the doors to your compartment opened, you sat up in your bed, startled and scared. It was only when you saw that it was Finnick who entered, that you relaxed again. Somewhy, you stood up from your bed out of reflex. Finnick looked agitated, and for a moment you feared he brought bad news again. His mouth stood slightly agape, he was breathing heavily, and his eyes frantically scanned your body.

''I don't want to sleep without you,'', he suddenly blurted out. Shock was an understatement. You couldn't help yourself. ''What?'', you brought out as an answer.

The usually calm, confident Finnick he could so easily present himself as for the cameras was nowhere to be seen. He seemed scared, agitated, and lost all at once. ''I-..'', he began tentatively, and took a step toward you.

''I don't want to sleep without you. I don't want to, and I can't, for that matter, when you are not next to me, when I don't know you're safe, when I cannot feel your body next to mine.'' Although he obviusly tried to explain himself, you were no smarter than before.

Finnick could see that you were not sure what he was trying to tell you. He took a few steps until he stood directly in front of you. He took your face into his hands. ''This,'', he continued, gesturing to the two of you. ''It was never fake to me. I never wanted it to be fake. I love you. I have loved you for a long, long time, and I plan on doing it for the rest of my life.'', finally, he seemed to exhale of what seemed to have been a breath he had held for a long time.

Tears began pooling in your eyes. And for the first time in a long time, they were tears of happiness. ''Oh Finnick Odair, are you really so blind as to think I ever wanted it to be fake? I am madly in love with you.'', you finally confessed, and a grin so wide he had never managed to fake for the cameras spread across his lips.

''And now, kiss me, please,'', to any other person, this would have sounded like begging. But it was Finnick, and it was you, and you were both so madly in love nothing else mattered.

So Finnick did what you asked him to do. Slowly, he leaned down, and let his lips brush against yours. After that, it was instant. You both were so hungry for each other, so desperate to finally be able to touch each other in a way you had only dreamed of.

Hands were tangled in hair, and roamed the body of the other. Your lips and teeth clashed against one another, but the kissing erupted feelings in your stomach, and heart, and the whole body, really, that you had never thought could exist. When you broke apart, the both of you giggled, caressed each other's skin, and placed delicate kisses here and there.

That night, you fell asleep in each other's arms again, kissing, holding each other. For the first time in a long time, you weren't scared of the future, because you knew either way, you would spend it with Finnick.

[the-thing-withfeathers]

exceeded caution part 5

how dare you?

series masterlist | previous part | next part

a/n: ohhhh i had so much fucking fun with this chapter. i couldnt stop once i started. i hope u all enjoyyyy

pairing: ex!tara carpenter x f!reader into sam carpenter x f!reader

warnings: cursing, threatening language, mention of blood and violence, mention of sustained injuries, mention of stabbing. 3.9k words.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

"i really don't want you doing this." you said to sam as you fixed the collar on her jacket, using your palm to flatten the fabric.

"i will be fine. and i'll be back in no time." sam placed her hand over yours. you just stared at your joined hands for a moment.

she noticed that you were starting to zone out and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"it'll work. i know it will." she said, confidently.

"it might work. but at what risk?" you asked, finally making eye contact with her. "they're putting you out there like lambs for the slaughter. i don't want anything to happen to you or tara. it's not worth it."

sam placed a hand on your cheek, holding your attention.

"i'll take any chance to catch this motherfucker and put an end to this if it means we get to be together at the end."

god, you hated her.

"you'll need to be alive for that, samantha." you rolled your eyes at her.

"i will be alive. i promise."

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

you were sat in the back of a van while sam and tara wandered out in the open. you hated the idea of using them as bait. no matter how good kirby and detective bailey were at their jobs, you knew ghostface was always a few steps ahead.

as mindy and kirby butted heads over the plan, you glanced at ethan. the boy was shamelessly snacking on a bag of cheetos, how could he even stomach anything right now? he noticed your staring and turned the bag of cheetos to you, offering you some. you waved your hand to dismiss him and looked away.

you offered to join the two sisters in their escapade to gain an advantage over ghostface, but they didn't need you in an even worse state.

you realised that you didn't even have a theory as to who the killer could be. there were too many people around and too many things happening for you to even make a guess. you also wondered if anyone suspected you.

"heart of gold with a dark past." mindy said, describing you to tara and sam. "it's the perfect cover up."

"she's got a rock solid alibi." tara said, crossing her arms at mindy. the girl still held a protective nature for you. "i was breaking up with her."

"she still left after." mindy countered. "you never know. isn't it weird that she always just seems to be around when you need her most?"

sam hated to even consider that you were capable of taking a life. unfortunately, despite her growing feelings, she had to be cautious with you. that was one of the risks she had to ponder on after you two decided to take things further.

fortunately for you, she looked into your eyes enough to know that there was not a single murderous spark in that head of yours.

"this is exactly how our uncle randy died." mindy's frustrated voice echoed in the van, taking you out of your investigative headspace. "broad daylight, public place, yanked into a van." the girl's monologue was never-ending, she was hard to stop when she got like this.

"stab. stab. stab. no more randy!" she exclaimed.

"huh." kirby responded, seemingly ignoring mindy's efforts at pointing out flaws in the operation. she turned back to the computer in front of her. "hey sam? stay frosty out there, okay?"

"we're good." you heard her voice through the computer's soft speaker. the tone of her voice reassured you, you knew she just wanted this to end.

you leaned back against the wall of the van, letting out a small yawn. you can't remember the last time you got a decent sleep.

you heard a faint ringing. you sat up as sam picked up the phone.

"you're gonna die, you know?" you almost felt your attraction to her increasingly grow with her determination. but now wasn't the time to think about that.

kirby typed away on her computer, tracking the killer's location. you leaned forward, trying to hear better.

"for a mastermind, you’re not very bright. waiting for me to call, desperately hoping i’m nearby so the police can grab me." the voice changer was haunting, it was the type of voice that wouldn't leave your nightmares. he was terrifying, you had to give him that. "but i’m not nearby. i'm one step ahead. be seeing you, samantha."

hearing sam's full name come from ghostface sent chills down your spine. it was intense, like the name held a lot of weight.

he hung up just like that, you watched as kirby discovered his location. the radius slowly started to narrow down to the upper west side.

kirby informed the two girls that ghostface was nowhere near them.

"on west 96th?" tara asked, kirby furrowed her eyebrows.

"how did you know that?" kirby inquired.

"gale." sam spoke.

you thought back to how kirby turned gale away from joining everyone, how press wasn't allowed anywhere near this. while her action was valid, you now realise it may have turned around to bite her back harder.

you heard heavy breathing and footsteps from the other end of the comms, deducing that they were running.

"my friend danny works on the upper west side. he can get there quicker!" you heard sam say through her short breaths. you had only met danny a few times, you had no doubt that he was a good presence in the carpenter's lives. although, he was still a viable suspect. you know he had a history with sam, you couldn't tell if it was just jealousy or actual logic that caused you to suspect him.

"or he could finish her off! it's possible he's the killer." detective bailey had a point there, it was convenient that he just so happened to work in the area.

"fuck. we have to get there now." sam said, stopping in her tracks as bailey protested, asking her to take a minute.

the comms started to fizzle out suddenly, you realised it was because they were getting further away.

you couldn't help yourself and lunged out of the van you were sitting in. you looked around and scanned the area. you spotted bailey and squinted, only to see that there was a police vehicle driving away with it's sirens blaring. you had no doubt that it was tara's doing, she could be reckless when she wanted to be.

"fuck this." you mumbled, turning back around to kirby. "can you take us there?" kirby heard the worry laced in your voice, she sighed and nodded.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

the car ride was silent, you sat in the passenger seat while the other three squeezed into the back seat. chad looked uncomfortable in the middle, seeing as he was the most built one out of all of them.

you jumped as your phone buzzed, you were doing that more often.

caller id — tara carpenter

you quickly answered.

"tara. are you okay?" you immediately asked. "is gale okay?"

"sam and i are fine. gale isn't. she's been hurt." tara answered your question.

"sit tight. we're almost there." you said.

"okay." tara sounded exhausted. this would have been extremely hard for the both of them. gale was someone that was there when this all started, despite their differences, she was a constant that they could depend on. "i'll see you soon..." tara proceeded to hang up the phone.

you turned to everyone else in the car. "gale's been hurt. i'm not sure how bad but we'll find out soon enough." you wished that there were no other cars present on the road. you wished that you could just plow through every other vehicle just to get there faster.

when you arrived, the sisters were standing shoulder to shoulder by the steps of the apartment complex.

sam looked like she had years taken off her lifespan. she was staring into nothing, her mind was racing and her shoulders were holding the weight of the world.

you hopped out of the car and felt your feet pick up the pace, you had to get to her as soon as possible.

as you crashed into the girl, you wrapped your arms around her neck, enveloping her into a hug. she took her hands out of her pockets and hugged your waist, her face burrowing itself into your neck. she inhaled deeply, taking in your scent and warmth. she felt herself relax a little more as she held you in your arms.

"i was so fucking worried about you both." you said, slowly pulling away to suddenly pull tara into a hug. she didn't expect it but she was pleasantly surprised. she hugged your waist and put her head on your chest. you were tall enough to rest your chin on her head. hearing your heartbeat was enough to calm her as well.

"any word on gale?" chad asked, walking up the stairs. you all collectively decided to sit on the couches that were in the lobby. you took a seat directly next to sam.

"she had a pulse the last time we saw her." tara cleared the air a bit more. "they said she's strong enough to pull through."

you sighed in relief. you spotted danny suddenly run into the building, breathless as he looked like he was running.

"i got here as fast as i could." he spoke in between breaths.

"did you?" tara asked, her tone accusatory.

had tara also been suspecting him? you had to give her credit for that. she was incredibly quick with picking up things like this. you glanced at danny and realised he was staring right at sam. was there still something lingering there? did sam have any lingering feelings? you wanted to pull her closer, stake some form of claim on her but you knew you had no right to do that just yet. instead, you settled for placing a hand on her upper arm.

"i'm scared. i don't wanna get hurt again." mindy said, her voice just barely above a whisper.

"neither do i." chad followed. mindy eyed him.

"i don't want you getting hurt again either." she told him.

"i know. i know." chad leaned his head on his sister's shoulder. as much as they butted heads, they loved each other more than anyone.

tara leaned her head on mindy's shoulder too. a part of you would have loved to be there when they were all happy together, enjoying life as normal teenagers back in woodsboro. maybe then you'd be able to understand them.

"so what do we do now?" chad asked, turning to sam.

"maybe he gets to win this time." sam said, softly. your eyes flickered to her, your eyebrows furrowing at her statement. win? what did she mean by that?

tara, mindy, and chad had the same expression as you. they raised their heads to look at sam, confused looks on their faces.

"he wants to punish me." your was pushed away as she stood up from her seat. "me." you saw tears starting to pool around her eyes, a choked down sob almost making it through her hardened exterior. "so maybe i let him."

you looked over to everyone else, did this sound absolutely ridiculous to them too?

"i'll just give myself up." she said, allowing the tears to flow freely and the rasp to take control of her voice. "if this is what i have to do to keep you safe, it's worth it."

you were stunned to silence. sam just wanted to give up. that wasn't the sam you knew, that wasn't the girl you fell for. you wondered where this was suddenly coming from. you thought that all the loss just got too much for her, she was willing to give herself up to end it all. you couldn't let that happen.

"no!" tara spoke up before you could. "we're not doing that, sam." the girl scrambled to stand up from her chair. "you came back to woodsboro to protect me. every single day, you make the decision to protect me. none of us would even be alive if it wasn't for you."

"she's right." chad nodded. "you have to let us help you too, sam."

"no." sam shook her head. she couldn't take it anymore. she hated how much you've all been through just because she happened to draw the short straw in a gene pool.

"yes. we're a team, remember?" tara stared her sister down, which was impressive given that tara has never been able to stare anyone down.

"actually, we're family." mindy said. you watched as the four of them came together, chad clapping and standing up. you wondered how the lovable knucklehead managed to brighten up the moment no matter what.

"core four!" core four. that was cute.

"he's gonna keep coming after us." sam said.

"isn't there somewhere safe we could just hole up in?" ethan asked. you forgot he was there for a second. maybe he felt like just as much of an outsider as you did sometimes.

"he's just gonna keep finding us." tara said to him. suddenly, it was like the gears turned in her head. "we could use that though. i have an idea."

tara held her hand out and asked for chad's phone, walking outwith the rest of the crew. sam was about to follow but you pulled her back.

"i didn't get to say what i thought." you said, your voice was firm. sam met your eyes and her lips pressed into a thin line. you were glaring at her. you shoved her chest back. it wasn't enough to topple her but it was enough to stun her. in fact, it was impressive how you were able to do it with just one hand. "how fucking dare you?!"

she stared at you with wide, shocked eyes.

"don't look at me like that. how dare you even think about giving yourself up?!" you almost screamed at her but you kept your voice down. "did you not even think of how that would affect everyone else?"

sam was rendered to silence. she wanted you to let it all out, even if it meant taking your sudden change of tone. she didn't know how to handle this side of you, but she was glad you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with her. in fact, you challenged her.

"tara would be left without anybody! you're practically chad and mindy's triplet! and me! and... and me..." you started to stutter out your words as the sobs laced themselves in between your words. "did you even remember that you made me a promise?" you asked, weakly.

"i'm sorry. i remember that promise like i made it two seconds ago." sam said, reaching for your hand and placing it over her heart. "please forgive me. i'll never bring it up again. this heart will continue to beat for you." it was criminal how easily she eased your worries.

"you stress me the fuck out." you scoffed out through tears.

"i'm afraid you will have to deal with that for a very long time then." she said, placing her own hand over yours.

"good."

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

you two rejoined everyone else outside, tara was already on the phone to detective bailey.

"we wanna lure him to a secure location and trap him inside." was tara's opening line that you walked in on. the girl was clever. she probably already had an entire plan mapped out in her head. you were always impressed by her level of intelligence.

"and then what?" you heard bailey over the phone.

"we execute him." you almost laughed at the aggressive word used by tara. but you felt that it was fitting.

bailey went quiet, you chalked it up to the fact that he was probably thinking the entire thing over. he had lost his daughter, you thought that he wouldn't think twice.

"are you gonna help us?" tara asked, an attitude sparking. she was growing impatient. and nobody liked impatient tara.

"let's kill this son of a bitch." bailey said.

you looked over to sam as bailey explained that you had access to the theater. he also warned you all to travel in public to minimize the chances of ghostface attacking you.

so you decided to take the subway.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

the hustle and bustle of new york.

it had been a while since you've actually been out with other people. this was an unconventional reason for you and all your friends to suddenly immerse yourself in the crowd but it was better than nothing.

you almost forgot it was time to play dress up. most of the people underground were all dressed up in costumes, probably about to make their way to halloween parties.

as you pushed through the crowd. you felt yourself get pulled in a million different directions. before you knew it, you had gotten separated from your friends.

you were shoved into a tightly packed train car, trying to shove your way through to find someone familiar. you squeezed your way through the sardine-like formation that everyone situated themselves in.

eventually, though the clearing, you spotted chad. you started to slowly make your way over to them. your arm was in pain, constantly being bumped into by strangers or the train itself. you winced as someone backed into you, lightly pushing them away,

when you reached the group of four, the train shook. you stumbled into tara, reaching for her shoulder with your good arm.

"sorry." you mumbled. sam let out a breath, she was glad you made it on with them.

"it's okay. i'm glad you're here." tara said, turning to face you. you grabbed the hanging strap right above her, staying close.

"me too. where's mindy?" you asked chad. "and ethan...?"

"we got split apart. pretty boy here pulled me in. maybe if you didn't do that, i'd be with them." chad practically spat at him.

"i was just trying to keep us together." danny said, on the defensive side.

you and tara turned to him at the same time, the same expression on your faces. you squinted at him, studying him a bit. he was a local, he knew how busy the subway could get. sometimes you just had to go with the ocean and not force anything.

the lights started flickering and you made sure to keep an eye on everyone when they did turn back on. chad suddenly straightened his posture when he realised the state of the train.

"holy shit." he looked just behind sam's shoulder. you followed his eyes.

ghostface. pinhead. ghostface. michael myers. ghostface. ghostface. ghostface. ghostface. another ghostface. and another ghostface.

they were everywhere.

"fuck." you whispered under your breath.

"how many stops do we have?" tara asked, sam leaned over to look at the map.

"ten." she said.

fuck. double digits. were you even gonna make it to the first?

it was like the universe was actively working against you. there was no way you all happened to board this train on this day and get separated.

people started to funnel out of the train with each stop. you looked over at sam and realised something had caught her eye. you tried to track where she was looking but there were just too many people.

"guys." she caught the attention of everyone else.

there.

one of the ghostfaces was moving towards you at an alarming pace. just as he was about to reach sam, you stepped in front of her. she grabbed your waist to steady you and pull you back against her chest.

the person in the costume turned to exit the train. you exhaled sharply and grabbed another hanging strap, this time on sam's side. tara frowned at the loss of your closeness but admired that you stood in between sam and a potential murderer.

with sam's hand resting on your waist still, you stayed close to her side, practically leaning on the girl. your mind was racing. nine more stops to go.

you hoped that mindy was okay on the other train. she'd be just as terrified, there would be just as many ghostfaces.

stop after stop, the pit in your stomach failed to resolve itself. even if you were going to make it off the train, you still had an entire night ahead of you.

screech!

you had dozed off on about stop number six, you were now seated but still leaning on sam's shoulder. you blinked your sleep away and sat up as you hit your final stop.

the four of you exited the train, quickly jogging up the steps and out of the subway. as you walked towards the theater, you felt yourself gravitate towards sam.

fuck it.

tara, danny, and chad walked ahead of you both anyway. you reached for her hand and intertwined your fingers. you needed that moment with her before you walked into your doom. she roughly pulled her hand away, looking irritated suddenly. you looked up at her with concern, did you miss something?

as you fell asleep on stop number six, chad turned to sam.

"you have to be careful of her." he whispered. he had never been the theory type, that was more mindy's thing. but mindy wasn't there, and she had her thoughts about you. as much as she did care for you, she cared for everyone else too. "she's got just as much motivation as the rest of them."

sam looked at the floor, silently processing.

"tara broke her heart. she could be out for revenge." he continued. "i know you like her a lot. and i get it. i was like that with liv ages ago. i let my feelings cloud my judgement. and you can't do that, sam. we're counting on you."

sam gritted her teeth at what chad was saying. she knew he was right. she had to do what it took to protect her family. unfortunately, you didn't go through what they went through, and you did have motive.

"and even then, she's already taken a lot of hits. we can't have anyone slowing us down. she's down one arm and it might bite us in the ass harder than we think." chad said. she hated that he used your injury to built the case against you.

even then, it didn't stop the doubt that grew in sam's mind.

she had to make the right call tonight. and it was going to be hard.

as you met kirby outside the theater, she mentioned that she had everything set up.

"let's get you all inside." she said.

sam abruptly turned to you and danny.

"not you guys."

what?

"sam, what are you talking about?" you asked her, stepping towards her, nearly shouldering danny just to get in her eyeline.

"i can't trust anyone. and yes, i know... i know what we are. but we don't know you." you felt your heart shatter at the fact that maybe you didn't open yourself up as well as you thought. when she said that, you knew that she didn't eliminate you entirely from her list of suspects, no matter how deep her feelings ran.

"but i have to be in there with you. i promised i wouldn't leave!" you said, reaching out to her. she only stepped backwards, away from you.

"you're not woodsboro."

she was right. you weren't woodsboro. you never were and you never will be. you were never going to be a part of that little family they shared. you were never going to understand.

as you stood outside with danny, you didn't know what to do with yourself. when you saw the group round the corner, you heard danny's muffled groans. you turned around to be met with the infamous masked killer himself.

and then everything went black.

𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩 𓆪𓆩

author's journal okay once again this came out a lot sooner than i expected but i had a lot of writing muse today and i promised emma that i would get this out for her! i hope you enjoy this, liefje. oooh i am sososososososo incredibly excited to write the next part of this series. cause u alllll know whats coming next. i promise it won't end when the canon ends though, i'm estimating a few more parts even after the ghostface stuff is resolved. i also fuck so hard w the music i listened to when writing this chapter. a lot of paris again but the live version of labour this time. that song just sends chills down my spine. but i promise i listened to more! particularly this song riiiiight here.

i also kinda wanna start timing myself when writing like hm just curious to see how long i usually take esp for long chapters. i hope u all have been enjoying the series so far cause i've had SUCH a good time writing it. i have an assessment due in two days so i will have to focus on that for a hot sec but i promise part 6 wont be ages cause i'll write it in my free time. anyways, i wish that everyone has the bestest day ever. kisses x

[acid-ixx]

Ghost-Anon here!! 😋

Ooof the new chapter was good! I especially loved the part where Dick goes kinda nuts after Reader blocked him (as deserved :p ) more so I’m so excited for Yandere!Damian too xD

hii !! tysm for enjoying the first chapter ^^ i was afraid that i wrote dick's descent to madness too quick but then i realized that "oh yeah it's literally dick we are talking about, times where he is at his limits are times where he lets the emotions control him." dick really does love his family, as proved in the comic panels i have read, and I don't like how most other comics picture him as just this silly guy who never gets mad at anyone.

he had his immense bouts of anger and frustration, it would be worse if it was caused by you, directly or not. the thing is, he understands where you're coming from. one of the things about dick grayson is that everyone loves him but himself. he has flaws that take a lot to fix, and they simply worsen when it comes to you because he had caused the same mistake bruce has committed. he was the same guy who criticized his own father for his mistakes, angered by jason's death and killing the joker after tim's own 'jokerfication' and yet he had never once noticed your demons, he allowed the world to take you away and destroy you; a crime greater than anything he could imagine.

the worst thing was, he was the same brother who had led your hopes high and crashed it at the same time. dick is the man who was described to be giving empty promises to you. it's bad enough that bruce had never even known about your presence, had never once talked to you, but dick had every opportunity to grab because truly, you saw him as your favorite before anyone else. everyone praised dick and you wanted the same praise from the next thing closer than your father— and he failed because he never tried, he failed his cute, little baby bird.

he knows that he needs to make it up to you before it gets worse but he also doesn't know that it's already too late.

you don't see him as the dick grayson. you don't see him in any positive light anymore other than the sheepish grins he would give you right after he rejects your offers.

if he wasn't so damn stupid, then you would've been there with him, at the mansion flipping through movies, pranking each other, throwing flour at one another when you bake, decorating your next diary entry with him.

and he needs to experience all that because you're the only normalcy that life has to offer. he momentarily relishes in the fact that you think so highly of him, but he breaks at the same time because all your other diary entries began to paint them all as your demons.

dick would ward the monsters away from you, he promises.

and this time, he genuinely means it.

i am so excited for yan! damian too! i wrote his character to be terrible towards you (he doesn't know he's self-projecting lmao) but i had hinted in one paragraph of his relationship with the reader. you see, most of his feelings towards you may have stemmed from some sort of jealousy, or the feel the need for competition. he had already fought tim before, it's only right that you get to experience the same pain— and i'm not expanding on this because then it would spoil the future chapters hehe, but i'll be giving one small spoiler and say that damian would go through some sort of immense, internal breakdown at the thought of you.

[claramelooo]

WOVEN FATES (10/20)

You are getting caught in this web, and you can't even imagine what awaits you ahead...

Enjoy it <3

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio x Fem Reader

Summary: The day of the exhibition arrives and your expectations for receiving your prize increase

Art I

The big day had finally arrived.

Rio’s exhibition was more than just an art showcase—it was a challenge. The theme? Rebirth. Bold reinventions of world-renowned paintings.

She was taking a risk, and she knew it. Tampering with tradition, subverting the original, deconstructing the classic, and redefining its meaning was like playing with fire. The conservative art critics could easily turn her audacity into controversy. But that was exactly what she wanted.

To shock.

To stir up a frenzy. To make experts pore over her work, tirelessly searching for a flaw, a mistake, a reason to question her genius. But they would never find one.

Because Rio Vidal was perfection itself.

The playful woman who filled hallways with her easy laughter, who teased Agatha just to see her roll her eyes, was now cutting through the air with sharp orders, demanding absolute perfection.

She paced back and forth across the living room, her steps quick and impatient, nearly carving a groove into the floor. Her soft cheeks were puffed with irritation, her eyes blazing. One hand pressed a phone against her ear while the other gestured aggressively in the air.

“I don’t want excuses, I want results. This should’ve been fixed yesterday!” Her frustration left no room for negotiation.

You had never seen her like this before. Never seen her be so harsh, so impatient. With you, Rio had always been a refuge. Warm, welcoming, sometimes even childish in the way she played with you. But now, she was a storm ready to tear through everything in her path.

Your gaze slid toward Agatha, who lounged on the couch with pure delight. Legs stretched out, elbow resting against the armrest, long fingers lazily massaging her own scalp. A small smirk played on her lips, and her blue-gray eyes gleamed with amusement as if she were watching a private performance.

You hesitated for a moment before stepping closer and perching on the edge of the sofa’s armrest. The second you did, Agatha’s free arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer with an effortless, almost casual possessiveness.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice soft but curious.

“Oh, honey.” She murmured, eyes still on Rio, watching her like one would observe a caged wild animal. “She’s having fun.”

“Fun?” you repeated, trying to hold back a laugh.

“Yes.” Agatha sighed dramatically, tilting her head against the couch. “Some people do yoga, others read… and Rio? She terrorizes unprepared employees.”

You bit your lip, stifling a chuckle as you watched Rio, who now looked on the verge of a meltdown.

“I’m surrounded by incompetence!” the artist fumed, running a frustrated hand through her hair. “How is it possible that no one noticed the main hall’s lighting is completely off?! Do you want my paintings to be seen as if they’re hanging in a mall parking lot?!”

On the other end of the call, the response was evidently unsatisfactory because Rio let out an almost feral sound of frustration.

Agatha drummed her fingers lightly against your waist, a silent “See? Told you so.”

“Should we help her?” you murmured, half-concerned.

“We?” Agatha chuckled. “And miss the show? Never, darling.”

Before you could protest, Rio ended the call with one final huff of indignation.

“Fantastic.” She slammed her phone onto the table. “Absolutely brilliant. They couldn’t fix it.”

She grabbed the blazer draped over an armchair and adjusted it over her shoulders, eyes burning with determination.

“Fuck this. I’ll handle it myself.”

And with that, she stormed out of the room, her heels echoing against the marble floor, exuding the fury of someone about to instill fear in half the lighting crew.

You looked at Agatha, who simply smiled.

“This,” she said, pointing toward the door, her index finger moving back and forth for emphasis, “is why I married her.”

[...]

Hours later, you were in your room, brushing through Lucky’s sleek black fur as he let out a series of grumbling meows, clearly displeased with the grooming session.

“Stop complaining,” you muttered, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest.

You weren’t going to the exhibition. It made no sense. To the world, to the media, to anyone looking from the outside, you were nothing more than one of Agatha’s employees. Being there, standing beside them, wouldn’t just be strange—it would be risky.

You had accepted that.

Or at least, you thought you had.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway caught your attention. You looked up just as Agatha appeared in the doorway, holding a small black box in her hands.

“Are you busy, little one?” Her voice was warm, designed to melt you.

Your heart wavered.

“No…” you answered hesitantly, watching as she stepped inside with the familiarity of someone who knew this space belonged to her.

Agatha sat beside you on the bed, placing the box between you. Lucky seized the opportunity to escape your grasp, the soft jingle of his collar announcing his exit through the door, leaving you alone with Agatha.

“I hope you picked out something appropriate for tonight,” she commented casually, as if discussing the weather.

Her gaze lingered on the doorway, where Lucky had just disappeared.

You frowned.

“What?”

“Your dress.” She tilted her head, eyes roaming your face with quiet intrigue, like she was tasting a rare wine, analyzing its notes. “What did you choose to wear to the exhibition?”

The air grew heavier.

“I… didn’t pick anything,” you admitted. “Because I’m not going.”

Agatha said nothing.

She just looked at you. And for the first time since you had met her, she seemed… pensive. You could almost see the thoughts stacking up behind those intense blue eyes, a whirlwind she rarely let show.

She parted her lips to speak, but stopped. Closed them again. Tapped her fingers against the small box between you.

You swallowed hard, your hands clammy from the weight of her silence.

So, you tried to justify yourself again.

“It doesn’t make sense, and it’s not appropriate,” you reasoned, keeping your tone measured.

Agatha looked at you once more, those sharp blue eyes scanning you, assessing you—searching for something.

Then, after a pause, she took a slow breath, crossed her arms over her chest, and said:

“Indeed.” Her voice was colder now. Rational. A mirror of your own. “It wouldn’t be appropriate for us to be seen together.”

The words sliced through the air between you. Like a precise, unforgiving blade.

Your chest tightened, a weight settling deep where it shouldn’t have.

Of course, you knew. You had always known. This was forbidden, irrational, a mistake from the start.

But hearing it out loud—from her—was different. It hurt like a punch to the gut.

It wasn’t about logic. Or the risks. It was about being their dirty little secret. About not being good enough to stand beside them under the spotlight.

You were something to be hidden. Kept behind the curtains.

Bile rose in your throat, and you tried to ignore the bitter heat washing over you.

But Agatha didn’t give you time to process it.

Slowly, she leaned in. Her warmth pressed closer to yours. Her breath ghosted over your skin.

Mature fingers traced down your shoulders, gliding along your forearm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“But you’ll behave, won’t you?” The question came in a whisper, low, laced with a quiet, velvety threat. You swallowed hard. “You’ll stay out of… curious eyes.”

She dragged out her words with surgical precision, almost savoring the effect they had on you. A shiver ran through your body, and you hated the way you reacted to her.

"Or did you forget we’re not done rewarding you yet?"

The world felt smaller. The air, heavier.

Her scent wrapped around you, and then—the touch. Light. Intentional. Cold fingers grazing your skin, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear with an absurdly intimate gesture.

Then she fisted those same fingers into your hair, tugging hard, forcing you toward her until she could whisper in your ear.

"Don’t you want it, pet? To be rewarded?"

Her voice was coaxing, as if you were actually considering denying her. You almost laughed—you couldn’t say no to her.

"Fuck," you groaned again, but the word was swallowed by her mouth in a kiss that felt less like affection and more like punishment.

Her lips moved with the precision of someone who knew every single one of your weaknesses, every point of entry. When she finally pulled away, a silver thread of saliva still connected you, shamefully illuminated by the soft lamplight.

"You will," she commanded, not as a suggestion, but as a truth carved into stone. "You’ll wear the dress I picked. You’ll smile when I smile. You’ll shut your mouth when I tell you to."

Her hand trailed down your neck, fingers tracing the invisible collar that had always been there. "And if anyone asks…" Her blue eyes gleamed with malice. "You’re my assistant. Got it?"

You tried to pull back, but the bed was against your spine, and Agatha advanced, caging you in with her arms.

"Got it?"

"Yes," the word left you in a shattered whisper.

"Yes, what?"

Her fingers tightened around your throat—not enough to steal your breath, just enough to remind you.

"Yes… Mommy."

Her smile was slow. Wicked. "My good girl." She pulled a black box onto her lap, opening it with a soft click.

The black box sat there like a secret waiting to be revealed. Her fingers slid over the lid, lifting it open with a quiet snap that echoed in the silent room. Inside, nestled in black velvet, was the object—small, discreet, but heavy with intent.

A vibrator.

Not just any vibrator. It was sleek, almost minimalist, its metallic finish catching the light hypnotically.

Agatha picked it up with the careful precision of someone handling a loaded weapon. "Rio thought you needed a… reminder," she said, her voice silk spun over razor blades. "Something to keep you in line when we’re not around."

Your heartbeat stuttered, but you forced yourself to keep your hands from shaking. "I don’t need that."

"Oh?" Agatha tilted her head, her blue eyes burning with something dark. "Then why did you suggest something like this for Rio at the café?"

The question hit like a bomb. And then you remembered—Urth Caffé, where you had just lost your job, desperate, reckless. How could you have forgotten?

The words from that day pulsed in your mind.

"Then test me."

"Test you?"

"I’m a smart girl."

"Good."

"I… I didn’t think she’d take it seriously," you murmured weakly, clutching at the hem of your worn-out Radiohead shirt.

"Rio takes everything seriously," Agatha replied, running her thumb over the vibrator like she was petting something obedient. "Especially when it involves control."

Her fingers found the power button, and the toy hummed to life—a low, almost imperceptible vibration. The sound alone settled deep in your chest, like it was already inside you.

"It’s Bluetooth-controlled," she continued, eyes never leaving yours. "Rio loved the idea. It'll be fun testing your limits in… public."

The word dripped with promise, and heat flushed through your skin. "This is insane."

"Insane?" Agatha laughed, a low, throaty sound that made your stomach coil. She shook her head, as if you had missed the point entirely.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. No… this is trust, pet. You trust us, don’t you?"

It was a trap, and you knew it. But when your gaze met hers, the answer was already waiting on your lips.

"Yes."

And fuck everything, it was true.

It was insane how quickly they had wrapped around you, how much they had done for you in such a short time. They had invested time in you, seduced you, worshipped you. So maybe it wasn’t insane at all, how fast you were falling for them.

It felt… inevitable.

"Yes, what?"

You whimpered, squirming under her gaze, that word becoming a craving.

"Yes… Mommy."

Her smirk was slow, satisfied. "Mmm, that’s right, little girl. Your test starts now."

Then she leaned in again, and you sighed, thinking she would kiss you. Agatha noticed—and grinned. That exact reaction from you was too delicious to resist.

Instead, she pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead and pulled back.

"Be ready by 7 PM. Don’t be late."

[…]

The hot water cascaded over your body, washing away any lingering hesitation. Steam filled the bathroom, wrapping around you like a warm embrace, preparing you for what was coming.

Your fingers traced the soap over your skin, lathering up as your mind drifted back to Agatha. Her voice. Her eyes carving into your soul. The quiet promise in the kiss she left on your forehead.

They had chosen you.

That truth pulsed in your chest, hotter than the water.

You closed your eyes for a moment, breathing it in.

When you stepped out of the shower, your skin was warm, soft, renewed. You toweled off, fingers lingering over your own reflection in the mirror before turning to the piece of fabric waiting for you on the bed.

The dress.

It was a masterpiece.

Slate blue—a perfect fusion of green and violet—the color shifted subtly under the light, as if it held a secret. Boning sculpted the bodice, extending from the bust to the waist, hugging your figure with surgical precision. The back laced up delicately, demanding patient hands to adjust it.

And the details…

The embroidery looked like the work of a meticulous artisan, tiny strokes of sophistication woven into the fabric, like silent spells meant to enchant anyone who dared to look.

You stepped into it, letting the softness glide over your skin. The lacing was a challenge, but with some effort, you managed to tighten it until the dress molded perfectly to your shape.

The neckline left your collarbones bare.

Except for one thing.

You picked up the choker, feeling the weight of the padlock pendant in your palm.

Not just an accessory.

Your collar.

Clasping it around your throat sent a shiver through you, something deep and unshakable.

You lifted your gaze to the mirror.

And smiled.

The reflection staring back wasn’t just you. It was a piece of them.

Pride gleamed in your eyes.

Being theirs. Belonging to them. It was intoxicating.

You touched the padlock, drinking in every detail of yourself. Strong. Beautiful. Exactly what they wanted you to be.

And then—the final piece.

The vibrator.

Your fingers hovered over the object before picking it up. You hesitated for only a moment, but to your own surprise, it wasn’t difficult. In fact… the thought of having it there, in public, knowing they could play with you whenever they wanted—

That… That got you.

A shiver ran down your spine, and you let out a long sigh as you adjusted to his presence.

A silent game had already begun.

You smoothed out the skirt of your dress, letting it fall gracefully around your body, and glanced at the clock.

It was only a few minutes until seven.

You were ready.

When you stepped into the room, the air was as tangible as the choker around your neck. But it wasn’t just any choker.

It wasn’t merely an accessory, an aesthetic detail completing the dress Agatha had chosen. It was a symbol. A seal. An inescapable reminder of whom you belonged to.

Rio's eyes were the first to devour you, raw hunger in them, shameless and unfiltered.It was the kind of gaze that burned, consuming every inch of your skin without her even having to reach out.

The tension in your shoulders shifted into something warm and intoxicating, like stepping into a trap you had, somehow, always wanted.

She tilted her head to the side, her hair lazily falling over her shoulder, fingers tapping against her thigh in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

"Just look at this..."

Her voice was husky, laced with a silent pleasure that seemed to deepen with every second she spent watching you.

Agatha, on the other hand, remained still for a moment, her analytical gaze sliding over you with no rush, as if savoring the sight before her.

Unlike Rio, who devoured, Agatha absorbed.

The corner of her mouth lifted slightly—an almost-smile carrying a world of approval and control.

A soft hum escaped her lips—that characteristic, low tune of hers—a small gesture, yet it made you feel as if you had just passed an invisible test.

"Perfect," she murmured, her gaze finally locking onto yours.

"Exactly as you should be."

The pride that blossomed in your chest was warm, addictive.

You grasped the pendant of your choker between your fingers, feeling the shape of the lock press lightly against your skin.

The weight of the jewelry was almost as significant as its meaning.

You were theirs. There was no doubt about it anymore.

It was Rio who broke the space between you, gripping your waist with her hands.

Her gaze traveled down your body as if searching for something specific, and when it returned to yours, a mischievous glint danced in her dark eyes.

"You have it on, don’t you?"

The air grew heavier.

You hesitated for a second, your heart skipping a beat before you swallowed hard and nodded.

Rio was not a woman who accepted timid answers.

Her gaze narrowed, and before you could process the movement, she was already on you. Strong, firm hands gripped your waist without hesitation, fingers tracing every curve before sliding down and squeezing your ass with enough force to draw a gasp from you.

You barely had time to react before she pulled you closer, forcing you to straddle her thigh.

The vibrator switched on the moment you felt the pressure of the fabric against your center.

It was an ambush.

And you had walked right into it.

The moan that spilled from your lips was loud, involuntary, impossible to contain.

Your head tilted back as your breathing turned suddenly erratic, and Rio only smiled, satisfied, as if she had just confirmed something she already knew.

"I didn’t hear you," Rio's fingers slid to the back of your neck in a possessive grip, tugging lightly at the hair at your nape, forcing you to arch back.

"Y-yes, mama. I have it on." Your response was shaky, lost in the pulsing sensation inside you.

Before you realized it, your hips were grinding against her thigh.

"You better have some self-control," she teased, her teeth grazing your jaw before trailing up to your ear, her voice low and sinful enough to make you tremble.

But she didn’t give you a chance to recover.

The kiss came as a surprise—rough, dominating, with no regard for the carefully applied makeup. It was the kind of kiss that completely disarmed you, that made you clutch at her shoulders just to keep from collapsing.

Rio was demanding, hungry, and the way her tongue moved against yours, as if she wanted to take everything you could offer, made your body melt even further into hers.

She tasted warm, intoxicating, and for a moment, nothing else mattered but this.

"That’s enough."

Agatha’s voice cut through the room like a sharp blade, cold and unwavering.

Rio hesitated, still savoring your lips, before finally pulling away.

The look she shot at Agatha was defiant, a rebellious spark burning in her gaze.

But Agatha didn’t waver. She never did.

You, on the other hand, were breathless, trembling, your chest rising and falling erratically as your body still reeled from what had just happened.

Agatha studied you for a moment, then her eyes dropped to your neck, where the collar gleamed under the room’s light.

Her blue gaze softened slightly.

But there was no tenderness in it. Only possession.

"Compose yourself."

The words came with the ease of someone who already knew she would be obeyed.

Rio, however, didn’t seem entirely satisfied just yet. She licked her lips, eyes still locked on you, and a lazy smirk curled at her mouth.

"You heard Mommy. Compose yourself." She winked at you before walking away.

You followed their steps, watching as they entered the car.

Ralph was already in place, his suit and posture impeccable.

You greeted him with a polite nod, which he returned in kind.

The ride was calm—too calm, a stark contrast to the storm within your mind and heart. The women looked flawless, untouched. They avoided looking at you as much as possible—and perhaps that was for the best. You felt that if they did, you might completely fall apart.

When the engine stopped, Agatha turned to you. "Step out first. We’ll follow in a few minutes."

Swallowing hard, you obeyed, stepping out with unsteady legs. There were a few paparazzi around, but none paid much attention to you.

The moment you crossed the entrance of the event, the sensation was overwhelming. For an instant, you felt ripped from reality, as if you had stepped through an invisible portal into another era. The 15th century? 16th?

It was 1500, yet it was also today.

The gallery had been transformed into something that defied time.

The polished marble gleamed under the warm glow of immense golden chandeliers, towering above like they had been plucked straight from Versailles.

The walls were covered in luxurious tapestries, embroidered with scenes that seemed taken from Renaissance paintings—but with a disturbing detail.

The classic and the modern clashed in a grotesque and brilliant way.

In one corner of the gallery, a monumental painting stood, drawing both silence and nervous murmurs.

It was a bold reinterpretation of The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa—but instead of the saint, there were two nuns.

Their veils still covered their heads, but their habits were parted, exposing pale skin in a contrast that felt almost sacrilegious against the celestial background.

The Baroque gold of the original painting remained, but now, it wrapped around the two women’s bodies like a profane halo.

One of them held a rosary between her teeth, while the other pressed her lips to her neck, fingers delicately tangled in the fabric of the cassock.

Scattered across the floor, open Bibles lay strewn, but their texts had been altered—passages on chastity crossed out, replaced with verses of love, forbidden and intense.

And at the top of the canvas, a male figure, dressed as a cardinal, watched from a distance, hands hidden inside his robe. His eyes, heavy with condemnation, also burned with desire.

The plaque beside the painting bore its title:

"Temptation and Hypocrisy."

No one dared to speak too loudly in front of her. But the lingering stares—the ones that flicked away too quickly—said everything.

A modern Last Supper.

Christ, at the center of the table, held not a chalice, but a bottle of whiskey. His disciples wore tailored suits and dark sunglasses, each clutching something that defined their era: a fraudulent contract, a wad of dirty cash. Judas, by his side, offered a kiss while sliding a contract forward, as a security camera loomed from above—watching, always watching.

Betrayal was no longer spiritual. It was contractual.

The guests around you were transfixed, whispering behind their champagne glasses—equal parts horrified and seduced.

That was how Rio created.

She didn't just paint. She exposed.

Without mercy.

You stood before one of the smaller canvases, your breath caught in your throat. The painting wasn't large, but every detail was a knife. A white lamb, with golden fur and almond-shaped eyes, lay beneath the paws of two wolves—one black as pitch, the other streaked with silver. Their jaws were buried in its throat, but the lamb’s expression was not one of agony. Its lips curved ever so slightly.

Was the lamb suffering... or surrendering?

Pain or pleasure?

Perhaps you were supposed to decide.

You leaned in, your fingertips hovering close to the paint. Hidden among the dark grass, tucked into the petals of a single black flower, you spotted the initials: R.V.—so small, they were practically criminal.

"Disturbing, isn't it?"

The voice slid behind you—soft, like venom.

You turned, your heart lurching, to find Wanda Maximoff standing close—too close—in a deep wine-red dress that seemed to bleed at the hem. Her blue eyes gleamed with something sharp, something curious.

"Wanda... hi..."

Your voice came out in a breathless whisper, as if she'd caught you in a lie—and maybe she had. The heat of the possibility curled inside you, sticky and unwelcome. Your palms began to sweat.

"What a surprise to see an... intern at the biggest exhibition of the year."

Her gaze dragged over you slowly—too slowly—and settled on the choker wrapped around your throat.

You shifted on your heels, gripping the strap of your clutch tighter, where the vibrator sat dormant.

"Agatha sent me... as her assistant," you lied—too fast, too defensive.

Wanda’s brow arched in that patient, practiced way.

"Oh, really?" She crossed her arms, the silk of her dress sighing against her skin. "She needs another assistant now?"

Your stomach twisted.

There was something in her voice—something playful, but edged. The way her gaze swept over your body, lingering a second too long on the choker...

She knew.

Or she suspected.

You opened your mouth to respond—

The vibration started.

A single pulse. Low. Deep.

Your knees nearly buckled.

You clenched your teeth, blinking rapidly, trying to school your expression into something neutral. Wanda's eyes narrowed slightly—like a cat scenting something just out of reach.

"The Willing Sacrifice," she murmured, turning back to the plaque beside the painting. "By Rio Vidal." A pause. Then her gaze flicked back to you, sharp as glass. "You identify with the lamb, I see."

The vibration pulsed again—two short bursts.

A warning.

Get away.

"It's just art," you managed, sweat slicking along your lower back.

Wanda smiled slowly, a predator savoring the chase.

"Art is never just art, darling. It's always a confession." Her finger traced the tiny hill painted around the lamb’s ankle. "Rio loves symbols... but I suppose you're still learning to read them."

The vibration surged higher.

Your breath caught.

The wetness between your thighs was undeniable now—sticky and hot beneath the silk of your panties. Your body betrayed you with every pulse.

"Are you alright, dear?" Wanda tilted her head, her eyes glinting with polite concern.

Three vibrations. Long.

Danger.

"I—I need to check the schedule," you stammered, stepping back.

Wanda's hand shot out, curling around your wrist—her nails digging lightly into your skin.

"Wait." Her voice was softer now. Lower. "I still don't understand..." She leaned in until her breath ghosted over your cheek. "...why you're really here."

You wrenched your arm free, heart hammering.

"Agatha's waiting."

You fled.

The vibrator thrummed relentlessly with every step, forcing you to clench your thighs as you navigated through the crowd—smiling too brightly at passing guests, your pulse loud in your ears.

The bathroom.

You stumbled inside the first empty stall, locking the door behind you. Your fingers dug into your thighs, trying to ground yourself—trying to hold it off—

But it was no use.

The orgasm was coming—unstoppable—hot and humiliating. You bit down on your lip hard enough to draw blood, swallowing every sound as your body convulsed against the cold metal wall.

Just when you thought you couldn't take it—

The vibrations stopped.

The absence was a slap.

You gasped, sweat dripping down your temples. Your thighs were shaking, the ache between them throbbing, unsatisfied.

It was cruel.

They were cruel.

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes as you slammed your fist against the stall door, frustration knotting in your chest.

You needed—

God, you needed—

The door creaked open.

You froze.

Rio leaned against the marble sink, watching you through the mirror with that slow, lazy smile—the kind that promised ruin.

"Running away is ugly, pet."

You swallowed hard.

"You... you stopped."

Her smile stretched wider, all teeth.

"Stopped?" She tapped her thumb against the phone in her palm. "That was just a warm-up."

The vibrator buzzed back to life inside you—low, steady.

You whimpered before you could stop yourself, clutching the edge of the sink as your knees threatened to give out.

Rio sauntered closer, pressing into your back. The scent of wine and mint wrapped around you as her hands slid over your hips—possessive, patient.

"You think that's fair?" she whispered against your neck. "Leaving me out there—incapable of breathing without thinking about you?"

Her heat was overwhelming. You felt the dampness through the fabric, the flush of Rio’s skin pulsing against your thigh. She rolled her hips—slow, deliberate—and you moaned loudly, fingers burying themselves in her dark hair.

“This is what you do to me, little gem,” Rio growled, biting your lower lip until it bled. The taste of iron mixed with her lipstick, a clandestine mark.

The vibrator suddenly switched on, the buzz ripping through your body like an electric shock, stealing your breath and clouding your mind. Your body trembled, the sensation pulsing from the inside out, claiming every nerve as if it had been made for you—as if Rio knew exactly how to unravel you like this.

You arched your back, a gasp caught in your throat, but Rio tightened her grip around your neck, nails digging into your pulse. Your body begged, your mind crumbled, that overwhelming, blinding sensation consuming everything, leaving you weak, lost—nothing but the instinct to follow the rhythm she set. You were nothing but this—the wanting, the needing, the desperate urge to be pushed to the edge.

“Fuck—” you moaned, feeling your legs tremble, nearly buckling beneath Rio.

Her grip on your throat tightened, bringing tears to your eyes, blurring your vision, blurring your mind, blurring everything except the suffocating need.

“Don’t. You. Dare. Cum, little tramp,” she ordered, each word punctuated by a sharp grind against your leg. Her eyes were wild, flawless makeup beginning to smear in black streaks down her face, turning into a mess.

She tugged at your choker, not hard, just enough to make you choke on surprise.

“This is mine. Only mine.”

You tried to stammer something, but she silenced you with a fierce kiss, her tongue invading your mouth like a starving intruder. The vibrator intensified, and you felt your orgasm creeping up, a wave ready to crash—until Rio let out a ragged moan, her hips shuddering violently.

She came against your leg, body trembling like a taut string snapping under pressure. And just like that, the vibrator turned off, leaving you stranded on the edge, dry and frustrated.

A sob tore through your chest, your body still pulsing with unbearable need. “No… please.” Tears spilled down your face, smudging it even further.

Rio smiled. She cupped your face, wiping away the salty streaks with her thumbs before pulling you against her chest. “Shh… remember your reward, pet,” she murmured, her lips ghosting against your forehead. “It’ll all be worth it.”

Then she pulled away, leaving you to feel the cold absence of her arms. “Just five minutes until the speech, darling. Wipe your face and be pretty for mama.” She swiped her thumb over your cheek, emphasizing the command.

When she left, you caught your reflection.

Wild. Disheveled. Just the way she wanted.

Grabbing a few wet wipes from your bag, you cleaned the tear stains and smudged lipstick, trying to regain some composure. But nothing could erase the feverish gleam in your eyes.

With one last breath, you stepped out into the hall. Your legs were still shaking, each step a reminder of what had just happened.

The crowd had started gathering in front of the stage. You followed, a shiver running through you as you passed the painting of the lamb again. The animal’s eyes seemed to smile now.

Pleasure, you decided.

Always pleasure.

On stage, Rio held the microphone with the confidence of a queen. The room fell into absolute silence. Then, she began:

“Art must be a cruel mirror. A distortion. A reflection that forces those who look into it to see themselves without masks. Painting, sculpture, performance—all must provoke, must transgress. Because if it does not shock, it does not transform.”

Her voice was both an invitation and a threat. Every word dripped slow, as if she was savoring the audience’s reactions. You watched Rio, the way she commanded the space effortlessly, her eyes burning like embers.

But then—a touch at your waist made your body stiffen.

You knew that scent of jasmine and cinnamon before you even felt the warmth of her breath near your ear.

“Don’t drink so fast, darling.” Agatha’s voice was low, but sharp as silk-wrapped steel.

Her hands gripped your waist. Not to hold you. To warn you.

You forced yourself to swallow, keeping your gaze fixed on the stage, but your body already belonged to another universe—one where only Agatha existed, and you were nothing but a delicate thread between her fingers.

On stage, Rio continued:

“We live in an era where truth is buried under algorithms, where our desires are shaped by invisible hands. But here… here, in this space, in this temple of creation, no one can hide.”

The world around you faded as Agatha’s hand slid over the curve of your dress, her fingers tracing a lazy, dangerously intentional path.

You wanted to close your eyes, but you knew that would be a mistake. Rio was on stage, but Rio was also watching. You could feel it. Feel it in the shivers crawling up your spine, in the heat flooding your veins.

“I want you to feel.”

The vibrator turned on.

Subtle. Almost imperceptible. A low, deep hum that echoed through your bones.

You took a slow, steady breath, trying not to falter, trying not to let a single sound slip past your lips.

Agatha smiled against your skin, satisfied.

She pressed closer against your back, her warmth seeping through the thin fabric of your dress. Her breath—hot and laced with red wine—burned against your ear.

“Spread your legs. Slowly.”

You obeyed, your heels trembling, and felt her hand slip down your thigh, sharp red nails grazing your skin until they found the damp lace of your panties.

She pulled the fabric aside, exposing you to the cold gallery air.

Her middle finger found your swollen clit, circling it with surgical precision.

You choked, fingers gripping the cold marble, but she tightened her grip on your chin, forcing your face toward the stage.

"Look at her. Look."

On stage, Rio paused. Her eyes hovered over you. Just for an instant, but long enough to knock the air from your lungs. Long enough for the vibrator to intensify. You had to grip the table beside you to keep from collapsing onto your own knees.

“I want you to look at the pieces and see yourselves.”

Agatha’s hand slid over your hip, up your abdomen, her long, firm fingers branding your body with her presence. Her face was too close, and when she brushed the tip of her nose against your cheek, your lips parted in an involuntary gasp.

“The purest… and the filthiest parts of you.”

Rio was immersed in her performance, her dark eyes sweeping over the audience like fire consuming dry grass. But when her gaze landed on you, she froze. She knew. She knew Agatha was there, touching you, and she smiled—a sharp, toothy smile.

"Look at her. She loves seeing you like this… broken," Agatha whispered, her finger sliding inside you in one smooth motion. You arched, a moan caught in your throat, but Agatha clamped her palm over your mouth, her lips pressing against your nape.

"You don’t want the others to see, do you?"

Agatha’s fingers moved faster, her thumb pressing against your clit with calculated force. Your body betrayed you, hips moving against your will, seeking more. She let out a breathless laugh, her posture almost dazed, disbelieving. The vibrator pulsed in sync with her rhythm.

"Fuck!—You get so damn wet when you put on a show."

The double stimulation made your knees give out. Agatha tightened her grip on your waist, keeping you upright as the buzzing of the vibrator blended with Rio’s voice.

"Because if it doesn’t shock… it doesn’t transform!"

The audience erupted in applause. You moaned, tears slipping down your cheeks, but Agatha yanked your hair back, exposing your sweaty neck. She bit down, making you scream.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out, your voice swallowed by the ecstatic crowd. "—Fuck."

The vibrator hit its highest setting. You choked, muscles clenching in spasms, dragging you to the edge.

"P-please, Mommy… Oh, fuck. Fuck. Please." You whimpered, leaning your head back against her shoulder, no longer caring if others saw—and strangely, neither did Agatha, who was looking at you with wild eyes.

You wanted to leave. Wanted your reward. Wanted to be touched until you forgot everything.

"You’re a little teaser. Behave." Agatha growled through her teeth, her thumb pressing against your swollen, needy clit.

"I-I… Mommy, I can’t. Fuck. Fuck. Please!" Your eyes rolled back from sheer pleasure, hips grinding against her hand. Trying to reach. Trying to get there.

You were close. Too close.

Agatha felt it. Of course she did. And as if reading your mind, her lips brushed against your ear.

"No."

The vibrator switched off abruptly.

The shock slammed into you like dry thunder. Your knees buckled for a second, your heart hammering against your ribs. You wanted to scream. To beg. But all you could do was gasp softly, biting your lip until you almost tasted blood.

Rio smiled on stage. Small. Lethal.

"Because art does not ask for permission."

Agatha gripped your face, tilting it back just enough for your eyes to meet hers. You felt the pressure of her fingers against your jaw, her touch heavy with promises. Your chest rose and fell too fast.

"It takes."

The applause exploded, a storm of clapping hands and ecstatic murmurs. You closed your eyes for a second, but the noise ricocheted inside your skull, amplifying your frustration, your shame, your anger. A thick knot burned inside your chest—something primal, something you couldn’t name.

You wanted to leave.

You wanted to rip that damn toy out of you, wanted to scream in Rio’s face, wanted to sink your teeth into Agatha’s pale skin, wanted to run and, at the same time, crawl back to them. You were teetering on the edge of an emotional abyss, and the only thing keeping you tethered was Agatha’s firm voice, her hand slipping from your jaw to your waist in a warning grip.

"Wait there. We’ll go home soon."

It was an order.

As always. As everything.

You swallowed hard, eyes wet, legs trembling. Every cell in your body was charged with an energy that had nowhere to go. So you stepped away, not looking back, weaving through people, champagne glasses, and curious glances skimming over you. You knew you were flushed, you knew you were a mess, you knew—somehow—that Rio and Agatha had done this on purpose.

You collapsed onto a velvet couch in a more secluded corner of the gallery, fists clenched against your thighs. You were breathing hard, but the air wasn’t enough. Frustration was a wild animal inside you, clawing to get out. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to pull yourself together, trying to swallow the despair threatening to spill over.

And then you heard a familiar voice.

“Sis!”

Your body went rigid in an instant.

Josh appeared in front of you, immaculate in an expensive suit. The bowtie contrasted with his carefree expression, his high cheekbones illuminated by the gallery’s soft glow. He looked radiant. No dark circles. No marks. No trace of the pain you had carried together for so long.

Your stomach twisted.

You cleared your throat, adjusting your posture, forcing a smile.

“Josh! You look… great!” your voice came out a little too high-pitched, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Right?” Josh pulled a smug expression.

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head, half in disbelief.

Josh had always been like this—flashy, talkative, expressive. More sensitive than your other brothers. How had you never realized how much you missed that?

"Mrs. Vidal is absolutely incredible. And her wife? Did you see her? I need the number of her dermatologist. That skin is unreal."

The genuine surprise in his voice was enough to pull a real laugh from you—probably the first of the night.

"Oh my God, Josh…" You covered your face with your hand for a moment, trying to catch your breath.

But then he stopped, narrowing his eyes at you with a look that was far too perceptive for your liking.

“But… how come you seem so close to them? What’s your relationship with those women?”

The laughter died on your lips.

Your stomach flipped, and you averted your gaze, stalling, searching for an answer.

"I… work for Agatha." You said it simply, controlled.

Josh raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied.

"Oh, sure. You work for Agatha." He repeated, dripping with sarcasm. "And I’m the president of France."

You scoffed. "I’m serious."

"Uh-huh." He tilted his head, crossing his arms. "And does your job include sitting here trembling on a couch like you’ve seen a ghost?"

Your jaw tensed. You swallowed hard, trying not to show your discomfort.

"Josh, I—"

"Where are you living?"

The question hit like a punch.

You blinked a few times, feeling the ground tilt slightly beneath you.

Where were you living?

In their house. In their bedroom. In their world. At their feet.

But saying that would be signing a confession.

Your silence lasted a second too long. Just long enough for Josh’s frown to deepen.

"Oh, so it’s a secret too?" He crossed his arms, looking at you as if he had just uncovered something suspicious. "Were you kidnapped? Owe money to the mafia? Blink twice if you need rescue."

You rolled your eyes, but he wasn’t entirely joking.

And before you could string together enough words for a convincing excuse, something shifted in the air.

A shiver ran down your spine.

It was subtle, but you knew.

Josh stopped talking. You saw it in his eyes—he felt it too.

That’s when the presence materialized beside you.

Agatha.

She didn’t arrive with a flourish, nor did she interrupt with words.

She was simply there. As if she had been from the very beginning. Like a feline with watchful eyes, circling the scene from a distance, waiting for the right moment to step in.

Josh’s gaze slowly moved to her, and you could see the exact moment he realized the sheer presence of the woman before him.

And Agatha…

She only smiled.

"Oh, don’t stop on my account, kids."

The air between them crackled.

Josh, always expansive, always commanding interactions with his warmth, held his ground. But something in his posture shifted—subtle, almost imperceptible. Like a dog sniffing out something unseen.

Agatha extended her hand first, a polished gesture, rehearsed, meticulously calculated.

"Agatha Harkness." Her voice came out low, husky, laden with a weight you couldn’t name.

Josh hesitated a fraction longer than necessary before accepting the handshake.

"Oh. Believe me, I know." He gripped her hand firmly, his eyes narrowing with recognition. "Josh. The most amazing brother she’s ever had."

You wanted to roll your eyes.

Agatha chuckled—short, restrained, a sound of amusement that revealed nothing beyond what she intended.

"Pleasure to meet you, Josh."

They let go of each other’s hands, but something lingered in the air. An unspoken tension, an invisible power play in which you seemed to be the only one without access to the rules.

Josh furrowed his brow for a moment before his eyes widened with sudden realization.

"Wait a second. You directed Nocturne! Holy shit, I LOVE that movie!" His voice pitched slightly higher, excitement breaking through his usual nonchalance. "The mirror scene? Iconic. I was obsessed—I had to watch it three times just to catch all the details."

You saw Agatha’s lips curl slightly, a smirk that felt almost predatory.

"I’m glad you enjoyed it."

"Enjoyed? I almost got a quote from that script tattooed!" Josh laughed, animated, then pointed at you. "And you, missy, working for one of the best directors alive? Since when?"

Before you could answer, Agatha smoothly took control of the conversation.

"She’s exceptional at what she does. Impossible not to notice."

Josh crossed his arms, examining you with a satisfied smile.

"Well, that I’ve always known. Always smart, always going after what she wanted. I knew you’d make it in life."

The silence that followed carried weight, something lingering between the three of you that you couldn’t name. But then, a new voice cut through the tension behind Josh.

"Are you her personal security detail now, Josh?"

His jump was immediate, his body twisting with an awkward reflex.

"Jesus Christ, what the hell!" His hand shot to his chest, dramatizing the scare. He blinked a few times, his brain finally catching up to who was standing before him. "Mrs. Vidal. My God. Hi."

Rio smiled. A lazy smile, toeing the line between charm and veiled threat.

"Hi."

Josh cleared his throat, straightening his posture, trying to regain composure.

"I was just… you know… checking."

Rio tilted her head slightly, a feline studying its prey before deciding if the attack was worth it.

"Leave."

Josh exhaled sharply, still shaken from the scare.

"Ah. Yes, ma’am."

He stepped away, but not before discreetly making a phone gesture at you and whispering, "Call me," before disappearing into the crowd.

You remained there, alone with the two women.

Agatha leaned in slightly toward you, as if savoring the heavy energy left in the air.

"Your brother is…"

"Eccentric." Rio finished, letting out an easy laugh.

You crossed your arms tightly against your chest, making no effort to hide your irritation. Your jaw clenched, brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line.

You were exhausted, frustrated, still simmering with the fire of earlier humiliation, and now? Now you had to deal with Josh showing up out of nowhere, asking questions, exposing you, reminding you that outside this bubble of lust and control, there was still a world expecting answers from you.

And Agatha and Rio?

They were amused.

Rio shifted her weight to one leg, tilting her head as she studied you. A teasing smirk played on her lips, as if she was entertained by your little tantrum.

Agatha, on the other hand, let out a small sigh. Slow. Deep. The kind that made your spine tingle for no apparent reason.

"What a precious thing." She murmured, her fingertips barely brushing your chin before trailing down to the pendant shaped like a lock, as if testing its durability. You didn’t pull away, but you didn’t yield either.

Your eyes lifted, meeting hers with defiance.

Rio chuckled softly, the sound curling around you like a caress.

"She’s pouting, love."

"So angry…" Agatha agreed, her voice low, velvety.

You clenched your fists, feeling your nails dig into your palms.

"I’m tired." Your voice came out sulky but also thick with that latent electricity you couldn’t control around them.

"Oh, my dear…" Agatha sighed, her fingers tracing a lazy path from your chin to the curve of your neck. "This isn’t just exhaustion."

Rio moved closer behind you, and you smelled her perfume before her body even brushed yours. Her fingertips ghosted over your waist, testing your patience. As if saying, You can resist if you want, but we know you’ll give in.

You gritted your teeth.

"But she’s right," Agatha twirled a lock of your hair around her fingers, "Let’s go home."

Rio exhaled a laugh against your nape. "Time to reward our good girl, isn’t it, love?"

That word clung to your skin like a warm secret. You blinked, feeling your body waver just slightly, even against your will.

Agatha noticed. Of course she did.

She smirked, blue eyes darkening as they slowly traveled over you.

"Yes… And I want to enjoy every second of it."

~*~

Uff! What a long chapter, huh?! Saturday has more!!

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher @reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good @imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp @lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01 @aboutcustardcreams @upsidedowndanvers @starbucks-06 @absolute-memegarbage @trinity2k @greyella @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @whitelotus00 @dandelions4us @creaturesaphique

[car-o-line]

REQUEST ALERT!! What about Doey with a player who is a perfectionist?(Gets hard on themselves when they mess up.) ( I’M 100% SERIOUS WHEN I SAY THIS, BUT I AM NOT TRYING TO ENCOURAGE THIS BEHAVIOR! THIS IS A WAY TO SHOW PEOPLE THAT THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO GO THROUGH THIS! Which it makes me sad :( ) sincerely, a person named Aiden!!

I REMEMBER YOU AIDEN😈😈😈😈 ALSO LIKE WHAT AIDEN SAID THIS IS NOT ENCOURAGING THIS BEHAVIOR I LOVE YOU GUYS STAY SAFE<3333

Doey with a reader who is a perfectionist

Big dough man was, well obviously learned about you from Poppy. She told him how perfect you were. How you did everything perfectly and without flaw.

He was quite surprised but also intrigued by you because Poppy never really gave him such a high stander for anyone in the facility.

He started searching for you, and eventually found you trying to escape from Yarnaby. He let you know of his presence quietly and lit a small fire to drive Yarnabys attention away from you so you could escape without the possibility of being harmed.

Once you finally came into contact with him he acted as he normally did, he still couldn’t trust you all that much but he wanted to believe in Poppy, believe her words that you truly were here to help(you weren’t, you just wanted to go home😐)

After some 1 on 1 time with you he started to notice the oddities about you as a person. How you wouldn’t let anything within your path be dirty, wiping even the smallest piece of dust off a toy whose life was long gone already. Or, how you’d restart a whole puzzle if you made a fixable mistake in the midst of it.

He thought your way of doing things was odd, I mean. He doesn’t believe making sure the chain is connected to the door perfectly is necessary. He thinks a lot of the things you do are unnecessary actually-

But the souls inside the toy just believed that those little habits were just small quirks about you.

“Safe Haven is right ahead..I’ll have Kissy show you around.”

“🙂, 😐, 😦, 😧, 😬.”

(that was you when you saw Safe Havens state)

He noticed your reaction and gave a playful giggle towards it, mentioning how it wasn’t the cleanest because he didn’t have the time TO clean it.

You immediately offered to do it for him, it wasn’t that you were upset or angry with him, it’s just that you yourself couldn’t stay in a place so messy without wanting to bang your head against a wall.

He denied, of course. He didn’t want you cleaning after him and the others but you insisted. So instead of putting more attention to that subject, he switched it and brought you to Poppy where she’d speak more on what the plan was. But before she gives you more tasks to do, Doey suggests that you take a rest. “You’ve been working too hard and you’ll get too tired to do anything else,” he’d say.

Poppy, thankfully, was fond of that idea as well. She also told Doey it’d be best for everyone in Safe Haven to rest too(something they can finally agree on💀)

You were hesitant because since you’re down here already instead of where you’re actually supposed to be to be- cough cough home cough cough chapter 2 ending- and you just wanted to get all this mess fixed up as soon as possible.

But you had really no choice on the matter, you were afraid of going out in the danger again without a partner to go with. So just following what Poppy and Doey say are you best option.

Though while everyone was resting, you just couldn’t seem to do so yourself. You just couldn’t fall asleep somewhere so meet, not when someone could actually do something about it and clean it.

So that’s what you did, you spent the whole night cleaning and throwing trash away to the best of your ability. Even if something seemed impossible to clean because of how dirty it was you didn’t give up because it just felt wrongly to leave something imperfect.

You even took the time to wipe off any and all dirt off of most of the sleeping toys. Gently using a wet clothing to get them clean again.

Once everyone awoke the toys were pleasantly surprised to be cleaned, like they just took a “shower” but as a toy.

Doey was actually quite saddened by what you did, don’t get him wrong though. He appreciates it truly, but the result was that he didn’t get to help you and that you didn’t get a wink of sleep.

Matthew was the most worried about your habit of making sure everything’s perfect. He’d remind you that even if the thing wasn’t flawless that it could still serve its purpose. He doesn’t like when you insist on working on something past evening just because you don’t think it’s good enough, he doesn’t like that you don’t you’re good enough. In the end he’s try his best to reassure you that you’re doing the best you can in this situation, and that’s all that matters.

Kevin thinks your mindset is just plan unnecessary. Like, why are you brushing kissy fur until she looks brand new? She’ll get dirty anyway. What’s the point? He doesn’t see why you do the things you do, but once he gets slightly closer with you, he starts to get used to it. He wouldn’t find that concerning because he hasn’t talked to many actual people since he got transferred to Doey. He wouldn’t know what’s concerning and what’s not unless you were just psychotic. Which, you weren’t(maybe, who knows🥳)

Jack is more playful about the whole thing tbh. He thinks it’s funny how you rush around to make sure everything is in order. But he gets somewhat whiny when he asks you to draw a picture of Doey or Poppy and you throw a hissy fit because you drew an imperfect circle for the head, or it just doesn’t look like the Mona Lisa. He giggles when that happens, he doesn’t mean to but when you actually get really upset he worry’s and holds you hand, then tells you that you did good.

[punksocks]

Astrology Observations No.27:

*just based on my observations, pleas only take what resonates

(Trying to write more posts and answer more asks lately, everything has been so busy omg- hope you all enjoy what I can put out there tho! c:)

-A perspective but I think Libra placements (big 6 but especially Venus and mars) are attracted to harmonious/balanced appearances, like I think having that glow from confidence in your aesthetic and it fitting you and things like that can make you just as attractive to Libra placements as conventional measurements of beauty

-Sun Conjunct Venus makes you really charismatic and you probably attract a lot of people by being yourself, and sometimes these natives can be people pleasers especially if they’re trying to impress others

-Quietly I associate your mars sign and your MC the most with the work you’ll do. Mars because you can’t divorce your passion from your work (says the Capricorn). And MC because it’s what you’re known for and that’s often tied to some sort of work/action. North node is tied in there too but it plays out so long term it can be harder to summarize. (I can do a post about the general fields that placements tend to go towards if folks are interested?)

-Aries and Sagittarius Mercury tied for most likely to accidentally blurt out your secrets

-Chiron Venus aspects (especially square, opposition, and conjunction) may find themselves undoing a lot of pressure around their looks or being especially hard on themselves over their perceived flaws/imperfections

-The sign over your 5th house may denote if you have many or few casual romantic connections (Saturn/Capricorn pointing to fewer one end of the scale and Jupiter/Sagittarius pointing to many at the other end of the scale, depends on Venus and mars too)

-You may find yourself accidentally pouring your heart out to water moons (especially cancer over how emotionally in-tune they are and scorpio over traaaaumaaa oml)

-I feel like Sagittarius can feel less mutable because Jupiter makes some of the forms of expression so big (ex. A Sagittarius Mars can get so mad at you and blow up, Sagittarius Mars/Venus typically date many partners, Sagittarius moons can express their emotions in a big way- I probably feel this way bc I’m Sag Pluto, the extremes lol)

-I’ve noticed that Venus dominants can seek more attention compared to like Leo/sun doms

-Fixed Venus can become codependent on their partner, putting heavy exceptions on their person for them to be their everything if underdeveloped— but if developed they can be very loyal to their person

-Mutable Venus aren’t quite commitment-phobic but they tend to be looking for a really special combination of traits to actually settle down with (when they’re monogamous), otherwise they get distracted very easily (or they treat their romantic options, and sometimes friends, like very temporary things- for better or for worse)

-Cardinal Venus are most likely to really go after what they want romantically, I think out of all the Venus modalities they have the most accurate idea of what they want at heart, from the start. But on the shadow side of this, they may be manipulative or try to conform their partner into what they want. (may play out differently for moon opposition/square Venus)

-I feel like where ever Venus is heavy in your chart may be how people assume you’re gracious but in a somewhat shallow way (ex. Venus conjunct mercury, people may find your voice and expression charming but assume you’re not that smart)

-Venus/Saturn aspects/ Capricorn Venus tend to have a lot of unrequited love interests and crushes that don’t reciprocate their affections when they’re younger but as they get older they tend to get the most affection from suitors that are older than them (be careful out here! Sometimes these old folks don’t know anything and they have bad intentions- girl when I say I had to take my own advice)

-Leos (big 3, especially sun & Asc) often know the right thing to say to charm you, it’s like when they want to they hit that sweetspot dead on. So do Libra’s (big 3) but they tend to approach things less directly, like compliments that really sit with you and come onto you in quieter, sometimes less serious way (if they have both in their big 3 then they’re just -a charmer- and idk I take that at face value 80% of the time lol but I’m a skeptic)

-I find that Pisces and Sagittarius placements (big 6 but especially sun for identity and moon for emotionality) often get VERY into spirituality at some point in their lives

-People with Jupiter in Virgo tend to work very diligently, almost too hard sometimes and they can be prone to burning themselves out from this behavior (something something don’t burn the candle at both ends- hypocritical from a Jupiter in Capricorn person lol but still)

-We talk about how Scorpio placements observe every detail about you, but I like Pisces placements (big 6 but especially sun, moon, Venus, and mars) have told me things about myself and habits I have that I’ve never noticed about myself. They’re super observant they notice a lot. I think they have this in common with their sister sign, Virgo. But I noticed Pisces will use their intuition in their observations instead of just analyzing. (I.e. you do x when you’re angry, is it because you feel defensive? Or I noticed you light up when you talked about him, you must really like him)- can also apply to Neptune Conjunct your big 3 (especially moon), and big 3 in 12th but it’s a bit more second nature to them than Pisces

-The season of your Venus sign is the time you’re most likely to indulge in self care and purchases for yourself (Sag season started and all of a sudden I was like I need makeup now, even though I hardly wear it in the winter lol)

-The season of your mars is the time you’re most like to take major actions (starting a business, going on solo adventures, etc)

-The season of your sun is when you’re most likely going to receive the most public recognition (also when the sun is transiting your MC/10th house)

[paucubarsisimp]

heyy no pressure but I out of the blue got an idea for an x reader (or anything) about pau and his scars, no other limitations

just the way you are

pairing: pau cubarsi x reader

summary: in which pau is insecure about his scars

warnings: sad pau :(

it had been a long day for pau. the moment he got home, he quietly set his bag down by the door and walked to the mirror, running his fingers over the deep scars on his jaw. the ones that came from the game, the ones that had become a part of him over time. he’d never minded them before, even worn them with a quiet sense of pride. but today? today, he couldn’t help but stare at them longer than usual, his mind clouded with doubt.

you had noticed the shift in him the moment he’d walked in, his usual bright energy subdued. you could tell something was on his mind, but you weren’t sure what. when you found him standing in front of the mirror, his gaze fixed on his reflection, you knew.

pau had always been confident, almost effortlessly so, but you could tell that the scars were making him feel something he didn’t usually express—vulnerability. you quietly approached him, standing beside him in the mirror.

“pau,” you said softly, your voice gentle, but filled with warmth, “you okay?”

he didn’t answer right away, just stared at himself in the mirror for a long moment before sighing. “i don’t know. sometimes i just… i wonder if they make me look different. i mean, they’re right here, on my face. they’re a reminder of all the things i’ve been through, but… do they make me look like something else?”

you took a step closer to him, your hand finding his gently. you could see the self-doubt in his eyes, something you weren’t used to seeing in him.

“hey,” you said, voice steady but full of tenderness. “pau, look at me.”

he finally turned his gaze to you, his brown eyes a little more guarded than usual.

“you’re perfect the way you are,” you said, your voice filled with sincerity. “your scars don’t make you any less beautiful to me. in fact, they’re a part of what makes you, you.”

he opened his mouth to say something but paused, clearly unsure. you stepped even closer, reaching up to gently brush his hair back from his forehead. you could feel the tension in him, but you held his gaze, offering him a soft smile.

“i know it’s hard sometimes,” you continued, “but those scars, they show how strong you are. they remind me of all the battles you’ve fought to be here, to be the man you are now. they don’t take anything away from you. they add to who you are.”

he swallowed, looking at you as though searching for the right words. slowly, a faint, hesitant smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but it wasn’t fully there yet.

“i don’t know… it’s just hard to shake the feeling, you know?” he admitted quietly, his voice low. “i look at them, and i see the game, the injuries, the moments that left their mark on me. sometimes i wonder if people see them and think less of me.”

you reached out and cupped his face in your hands, guiding him to look directly at you. “i see them and think you’re amazing. i see them and think about everything you’ve overcome. and i’m proud of you, pau. i don’t see them as flaws. i see them as a reminder of your strength.”

he blinked, his eyes softening as he let your words sink in. a deep breath escaped his chest, his shoulders relaxing for the first time that evening. “thank you,” he whispered, leaning his head on your shoulder. “i don’t always know how to handle things like this. but with you… i feel like i’m not alone in it. you make it easier to accept.”

you pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a soft smile. “you’re never alone, pau. you’ve got me, scars and all.”

he laughed softly, the sound of it light and easy now. his hands found yours, squeezing them gently as he looked at you with a tenderness you both had missed for a while. “i guess i’ve got a pretty good reason to smile then, huh?”

you nodded, your smile growing. “you always have a reason to smile.”

pau looked back at the mirror once more, but this time, his gaze wasn’t filled with doubt. there was still the faint trace of his scars, but now, they didn’t feel like a burden. they were a part of him, a part of everything he had accomplished. and when he looked back at you, he knew he was loved for who he was—scars, imperfections, and all.

and with you by his side, those scars no longer felt like something to hide, but a testament to how far he’d come, and how much love had followed him every step of the way.

[evilminji]

*evil grin of The Ponderings™*

You know who DEFINITELY would have Unfinished Business?

Heroes. Professional "If I could just MOVE, just fight a BIT LONGER, save ONE MORE PERSON" Heroes. It's the ultimate and unending Unfinished Business. To protect people. Not just their friends, their co-workers, but the innocent people around them.

That kid, stuck crying in the rubble.

That business man, screaming in pain, caught in the cross fire.

The People NEED them. They SWORE. Their very SOULS burn with the NEED to help. But... the flesh gave out. Injuries. Age. Quirk overuse. They knew... they KNEW, this was not a safe line of work... but... but! Please! Just one more person! Why can't they just make their breaking, dying, bodies MOVE!

Of course they refuse to move on.

They are needed HERE.

Yet? Their hands pass through. Their voices do not reach. A hell of their own, unknown, making. They can't let go, but they can't HELP either. There isn't enough Ectoplasm here. The walls of their reality overly patched up, since that unfortunate leak a few centuries back.

After all, the Zone had dumped near lethal quantities of unfiltered Ecto into the atmosphere. They're STILL dealing with the mutations and fall out, aren't they? At least, they are according to the Zone. (Wtf is a "Quirk"?) And, yeah, someone should PROBABLY do an assessment on the ecological recovery of the Reality. But like?

Do you have any idea how few people have an Obsession for stuff like that? Wait your turn! The list is long and you're not fuckin special, okay? The agents are BUSY.

Now, you might wonder? Wait. If they aren't moving on. Are DEFINITELY Ghosts. Starving as they are. Refusing to die as they may be. Wouldn't... Wouldn't that leave the whole ass area around their Reality an ecological dead zone? If it got over patched and no Ghosts LEFT, thus noticed, and started to try and work on it from the outside? Assuming the COULD?

Yeah. Yeah it would be!

It's called the "New Wastes"!

There used to be some cool Lairs around there. But there was a turf dispute. Someone DID something. Punched a HOLE. And everyone re-died. It was fixed but never quite re-healed. Portals... don't show up there? For some reason? Meh. Wanna brawl?

No. Danny's curious. He wants ANSWERS.

It's his fatal flaw.

Well... that and his inability to keep his mouth shut. But he likes to think he's funny. So... off he goes! And MAN! Does it feel funky out there! Weird textures. Mmmm, Don't Like THAT ™. It's probably a King thing? The Zone here... FEELS wrong.

Not... the way it's SUPPOSED to be shaped, if that makes sense?

And? It feels... if you sorta squint? Like... a LOT of people AREN'T where they should be. But aren't gonna leave until they're READY. Ooof. Great. Someone messed up again. Why does he KEEP FINDING bits and pockets that need straightening out? Unruffling? It's like he has to keep smooth out this giant peice of fabric with all these stains on it. Clean the messes on it.

He feels more like a maid then a King.

Maybe he is?

Pretty sure he's more of a nanny, since the Zone is more of a whiny yet excitable toddler then anything else. Alright, let him in. And fix... whatever THAT is.

So he steps into the Reality and? Huh. Japan. Neat. He always meant to go, never got around to it. Why is that man an otter?

.......oooohohooo, this place was HELLA fucked up by Ectoplasm, wasn't it? This is multi generational exposure. It's in the air. The water, ground, buildings. But stale to the point of stagnation. That can't be healthy. At least a few people he sees have developed ecto-resistance, thank the Ancients.

Danny discovers there are? "Superheroes"? Or just... heroes, apparently. They sell shampoo lines and athletic gear. Villians are petty criminals and psychopaths. All lumped together. He gets fuckin CHASED by the COPS and half the cities spandex patrol, called a "villian" (you know, like the purse snatchers and the DUDE WHO TRIED TO OPEN FIRE ON A CROWD) for flying around trying to assess the situation. Not speaking Japanese fast enough.

Soooorry! He TRIED to answer your confusing barked demands! This isn't his native language! He's translating through Ghost Speech! He knows it sounds unsettling to the living! It's the best he's GOT, man! (Asshole)

He escapes, obviously, because he's not 14 anymore. And honestly? He could top 200mph or so AT 14. He's only gotten faster. Intangible flight means no wind drag, motherfuckers~! OR need to dodge buildings! HA. Try to follow him through THE GROUND!

A few Blob sucked (to remove the ectoplasm) bits of treasure later? And he leaves a pawn shop with local currency. Thank YOU shady pawn shop! Ask him no questions, he'll tell you not lies. Enjoy Pariah's gold.

He does tourist things. Buy foods he's never tried, wanders around. Sees what's needed. Noticed a lot of people struggle with some aspect of the ecto-mutations brought on by the extreme Limnality. Need accessibility aids.

.....well, he IS a Fenton. His parents would disown him on the SPOT if he left with out at least TRYING to help. So he tracks down one the local ghosts. He'll need a guide or two.

He? VASTLY underestimates how desperate a sea of Obsession Starved Hero and Vigilante Ghosts will act, the INSTANT, they realize not only someone can see them... but it's? Their "Boss"? They aren't sure HOW they know that. But they DO. It's THE Boss. Here to help them! Asking for HELP ™ from THEM!

Yes

YES THEY CAN DO THAT

He gets swarmed. Hundreds of ghosts fighting over each other. Shouting. Turning on each other like rabid animals. All worn down and ragged by their Obssesion starvation. He's forced to shout over them.

And? Holy shit, these are only the ones from THIS CITY, too.

Thank Zone, again, he's no longer 14. That he has friends who are Rulers ™ that taught him HOW to Rule. To delegate. Pretend he TOTALLY knows what he's doing. That every action is on purpose.

It takes less then two hours, with all the experienced Unground Heros help, to make himself a Real Boy and buy a building. Put himself into the correct databases. He officially has licenses for things he's never studied. Is a tax paying citizen. Even belongs to several local clubs.

Over the next few days? He sets up his new... oi! Quickdraw! What're they called again? Right. "Lifestyle Support Company" which? Is a dumb name. But, Fenton Works is Fenton Works. Somehow he always kinda knew he'd be inherenting. It's in a cruddy part of town and the prices are cheap as he can safely get um.

He already had two customers, even though half the building isn't even fully set up. Which? I mean... he gets it. Poor guy. Knives for hands. Sharp ones too. The other guy's Obsession made him emotionally react to colors and like three different ones were ruining his life. So, hand Prosthetics controllable by knives and color filtering wrap around glasses.

Took him a lunch break or two.

Changed THEIR lives.

Suddenly his shop is packed. Schedule screaming for relief. And the ghosts? Getting more tangible by the day. See, his work shop? Ecto proofed. Let's him relax. But it ALSO let's him radiate fresh, clean, Ecto out into the air. And as King? With a direct line to The Zone? He puts out a lot.

There start to become Sightings.

People who SWEAR they saw long dead Heros out of the corner of their eyes. Dead vigilantes. That was who through that bottle. Who tripped that thug at just the right moment. Who unlocked the door. The SWEAR. They aren't crazy!

And... at first? Brushed off. Stress does a lot of crazy thing to a person, ma'am. But? How do you brush off, making eye contact with your dead best friend? Your old mentor on the other roof? That vigilante, who you WATCHED bleed out? Can you brush them off... when a vigilante from the dawn of quirks, punches some two bit villian on live television? Calls the Heros on the scene gloryhounds? Goverment dogs?

Runs from the cops and vanishes into thin air?

When this shit KEEPS HAPPENING?

Is spreading?

Are... are you supposed to arrest them for illegal vigilantism? How? They're THE proto-Heros! You don't want your name tied to that! The HPSC is furious. The goverment is uneasy. There are like... 6 dudes and a lady, openly stalking some kid in UA. Trying to mentor him. He looks moments away from a nervous breakdown.

Us too, kid. Us too.

All? While Danny? Is just sitting in his lil shop. Tinkering. Not HIS problem. Gotta let the ghosts here get it out of their system. Get their Obsession's full. Then it's all aboard the Zone Train. He's just here to make sure no one does anything "Too Crazy".

What's HIS definition of "too crazy"?

Wouldn't YOU like to know, weather boy~☆

@hdgnj @lolottes @nerdpoe @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @spidori @the-witchhunter @legitimatesatanspawn