#but if i were talking to a wall i would feel less like a loser

[coolcoelacanth]

I'm keeping myself up being sad about people again

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

Hey there could I request G!P professor!nat x shy!quiet!reader where reader goes to the school dance alone and feels like a loser for not having the balls to talk or join in with other people but then nat decides to keep her company because she can’t stand seeing her favorite student all pathetic just standing there like a lost puppy and then they sneak off to do “other” stuff

Favourite

Paring: fem!reader x prof!Nat

Warnings: SMUT, amab!Nat, top!Nat, bottom!reader, age gap (legal), taboo relationship, soft sex, p in v, brief oral, soft!Nat, virgin!reader, gentlewoman!Nat

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional. I do not own these characters!

A/N: I’m not dead yet and more active noe

I had always thought in college things would change for girls like me, the quiet ones, with a few friends, who you would only talk to to copy their homework. However it stayed that way or at least for me. I had found my small group of friends but I was far from well socialised in my college. But I wasn’t complaining about it either after all it left more time to study.

Most of the lessons I attended were boring except for one: Russians literature with Professors Romanoff, a tall, athletic woman, with red hair and the greenest eyes you had ever seen. You didn’t mind her talking for hours about poems and novels and what we were supposed to think of them. However you couldn’t care less about the words leaving her mouth when you’re eyes were only fixated on her lips.

Eventually more of the semester passed and soon it was time for the annual ball. Because of your low social status you didn’t even try to find a date opting on going alone instead, it wouldn’t be that bad right?

Once there you where alone, the few friends which you had didn’t bother to attend so you stood alone at the side of the large room your eyes fixated on the ground. You should just go, you thought to yourself. “Good evening, Y/N” you heard the familiar husky voice next to you. You looked up only to be greeted by your smirking professor. She looked gorgeous having picked out a matching suit to her eyes.

“Hi, Ms. Romanoff” she leaned against the wall next to me her eyes darting over my smaller body. “Where’s your date?” “I don’t have one” I answered truthfully, her expression stayed the same it was hard to read her. “And you’re friends?” I sighed she knew the answer to that already. “They didn’t attend.” She chuckled licking her lips like a predator who just found it’s helpless prey. “Poor girl, all alone and needs her professor to keep her company”

I let out a small laugh which sounded incredibly fake. Her words made my cheeks heat and I didn’t even know why. “Could be worse” I looked up in her eyes again “You’re a very pleasant conversation partner” “Am I?” She chuckled “That means a lot to me, hearing my favorite student say something like that” “I’m your favorite?” you stammered out “Trust me bunny a girl like you” Her hand trailed to my hip “You hardly get something like that every ten years. I’m very happy to have you”

Her words made my heart flutter and my head turn. I was special, Romanoff’s girl. “Do you mean that?” My voice was still a bit shaky. “Of course I do. We should go somewhere more private” I nodded her hand intertwined with mine she pulled me with her through the masses into the parking lot. Once seated in her expensive looking her hand never left my thigh before she started the car she leaned over to me our lips inches apart I tried to lean forward but her hands pushed my shoulder back against the car seat.

“Don’t do this to make me happy” She paused her eyes looking sensire “It won’t affect your grade no matter how you decide.” “I want this”

I breathed out our lips immediately finding each other. The kiss was passionate and heated until Nat pulled away to fasten my seat belt.

“I’ll drive to my apartment” She put her own seatbelt on “Is that okay with you or do you want to go to your dorm” “I’d like to join your tonight” Natasha gave you a cheeky grin at the response her plan had worked out perfectly.

Arriving at her apartment she seated you on her leather couch. She paced around her living room having two wine glasses in hand. “Do you want a glass?” I laughed I was extremely nervous but in a good way “Oh, I don’t drink but I’ll have a water instead” She just nodded accepting my preferences.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve met” She laughed slipping away from her wine glass. “And I’m not just saying that because of the wine.” She added she was sat next to her hand on your thigh. She had long forgotten about her crumpled up suit jacket on the ground though she normally was so precise about keeping everything organized.

“You don’t look bad either” You laughed she pulled you on her lap forcing you to but your legs on either side her crotch on yours. “Let me kiss you” she mumbled against you wet lips. You lips were pressed together so where your bodies and you could feel a bulge poking you. “Fuck you make me so hard” she breathed out on your lips making you moan out in response.

We were caught in the dance of our tongues when I felt her standing up her arms under my ass supporting my weight. I giggle and tighten my grip around her. “Let me take you to the bedroom”

She laid me out on the bed being careful with every item removed and making sure I was comfortable. She kissed everything inch of my skin paying extra attention to my sweet spots and I never felt so loved before. “Have you done that before” She breathed put against my skin.

“Never” I answer truthfully and suddenly I felt a dang of jealousy in my chest. “Is that- a problem?” My professor moved up again before kissing me “Of course not” She looked me in the eyes with her green eyes. “Will you let me be your first” She was being incredibly cheesy but Iiked that. It made me feel safe. “Yes”

She took one of my nipples in her mouth twisting and turning the other with her trained fingertips. She made me putty in her hands with each lick or flick she brought a new sound from my tongue.

My back arched which only made her increase the speed of her movements. After she seemed it to be enough foreplay she kissed her way down to my pubic bone, pressing her nose against my skin to take in the smell of my sweet arrausel. “Can I bunny?” She smirked and kissed your clit I was already wet but Nat was dying for a taste. She flicked her tongue over my now exposed bud. The pleasure was incredible better than any other toy I ever had and you tried to not lose my mind as she teased you bundle of nerves.

She pulled away shortly after ripping away my release in front of my eyes. I looked at her confused as she was already freeing herself from her boxer. She didn’t have a size to be ashamed of and her bush was well groomed too, like you would’ve suspected. She pumped herself a few times groaning until she was fully hard a little droplet of cum on the redden tip.

“Wait I’ll put a condom on” She reached for the drawer but you stopped her “I’m on the pill” Her lips formed a smirk as she positioned herself between my legs. “It’s not gonna hurt sweetheart” She reassured you kissing my neck.

She pushed inside and I making me scratch down her toned back making her whimper. Fuck her whimpers where hot. She bottomed me out looking down at where our bodies were connected she smiled up at you and you smiled back and after I nodded to her she picked up pace.

She was slow at first making me want more you could tell she being careful with you. “Faster” I moaned out making you hips buckle into her trusts. She moaned like a pornstar panting above me as she increased her speed the bed creaking. She made my back arch and my eyes squeezed shut as I released my quiet prayers for her.

“You close?” She panted and I nod “Fuck, your so tight” I grabbed on her shoulders scratching down as I came all over her shortly after she filled me up too. She pulled out the cum leaking down my legs. She climbed up my body flipping us over so I lay on her chest.

“You’re my favourite” She whispered and kissed my sweaty forehead

:)

[esmedelacroix]

Way Too In Deep

✮⋆˙ in which exboyfriend!toji fushiguro sees you in a club...

cw ! bathroom sex, semi-public sex, mirror sex, daddy kink, spanking, mild degradation kink(lemme know if I missed any im having a brainfart rn)

a/n : ya'll iv'e been doing everything BUT writting✋😭 like. not my usual content and I lowk hate this an might rewrite but lets get whornee!

fic radio 💿🎧🫧 : Deep by Summer Walker

Strobe lights, smoke machines, shitty DJs, and even shittier guys. That's what clubs were to you. But your friends loved clubs so they put you in a short, tight dress that left nothing to the imagination, and a killer pair of heels. They dragged you to the Fallen Angel. How did your friends get you into a popular luxury club? You had no idea.

You were the designated sober friend who would drive everyone home(if they weren't already going home with their one-night stands). Meaning, you were stuck drinking mocktails and flirting with the bartender for the night. You forgot how much you missed clubbing though. The only true meaning you were so pessimistic, was that you hadn't been out since you broke up with your ex-boyfriend two months ago.

Who conveniently entered your line of sight across the room. You weren't going to sit and look like a loser now that he was here. You ordered a shot of tequila and downed it; enjoying the burning sensation in your throat. Luckily one of your favorite songs was playing, and your friends dressed you up like a hooker.

You needed to find a guy to dance with quick. You needed to prove to Toji that you were doing much better than he was. You only had to look at the poor victim you chose for the night and he was already yours. You let the music ignite you and guide your movements. Your back was flush against his as you ran your hands through your hair grinding against him. "My name's Shiu," the guy you were dancing with whispered in your ear.

"Cool, less talking, more touching," you said, guiding his hands to your hips.

"Yes, ma'am," he smirked as his hands tightened around your hips.

Your eyes were fixed on Toji burning holes into the back of his head. When Toji finally noticed you, you stared straight into his eyes as you mouthed the words to the lyrics and whined your hips against Shoe(whatever his name was). Toji looked irritated but impressed by the nerve you had to try and taunt him like that. Exactly what you wanted.

He took to the dance floor with one of his new girls. He spun her around and danced with her the same way you were dancing with Shiu. You could feel his manhood hardening against your ass. You weren't even dancing anymore, you were practically dry-humping on the dance floor. Miguel's eyes stayed fixed on you. Your body. Those eyes. Your sultry expression. Your mouth. Agape.

That set him off. As soon as you knew it, he was marching towards you with a mean scowl on his face. One blink and Toji's larger rough hand was firmly around your wrist dragging you away from Shiu. "Hey let go," you protested from behind with a satisfied smile on your face. Toji didn't answer. He simply grumbled under his breath, dragging you into the single-stall bathroom locking the door behind him.

"Just who do you think you are?" he asked with his hands on his hips.

"I don't know what you mean," you said feigning innocence.

"Really? 'Cause you were practically fuckin' that guy out there," he scoffed inching closer to you until your back crashed against the wall and faces were centimeters apart.

"No. I wasn't," you whined.

"Oh yeah. Don't lie to me baby you were doing it so I would look. I know it," he scoffed.

"Okay, maybe I was. I mean, even so, you wouldn—" you started before being cut off by his lips on yours. He kissed you like he was on his deathbed and you were the elixir of life. You moaned softly into his kiss.

Toji's hands found themselves wandering all over your body. They caressed your soft breasts. Your waist, and your ass. He gave your ass a squeeze. "Tell me you don't want this," he whispered.

You shook your head softly, draping your arms over the nape of his neck. "Give it to me Toji," you sighed in his ear. He could hear the sinister smile in your voice. With that confirmation, he lifted you your legs wrapping around his waist and placing you on the sink. He immediately kissed your neckline and jaw leaving fresh bruises all over the place.

Your fingers ran through his hair and tightened into fists full of his damp tufts of hair every time he sucked on your neck. "Tell me you don't want this baby and I'll stop," he grunted as he kissed down your cleavage.

"You bluffin' Fushiguro?" you smirked. He simply scoffed and let you hop off the sink. He moved you around by your waist so you could look at him through the mirror. "Look at you. You wanted this didn't you?" he smirked.

You smile at him through the mirror. "Maybe I did," you whispered. His rough hands bunched up the hem of your dress to your waist.

"You're still as slutty as ever," he snickered, as he bent you over the sink. Moving your thong aside, his calloused finger made sudden contact with your glossy slit. You let out a breathy moan at the sudden contact.

"How many guys have been in this pussy since we split, hmm?" he asked as he plunged a finger into your dripping sex.

"Lost count," you lied.

"You don't gotta lie to me ma," he grunted.

You hated how well he knew you. You hated how he knew you grinned when you lied. You hated that he knew you weren't over him and that he still owned you whether you liked it or not.

But he wondered if you knew you had the same effect on him. Wondered if you knew the girls were just a ploy to get you to notice him. Wondered if you knew how you occupied his every thought. How you had him in some sort of trance and he couldn't escape you being in his dreams. He didn't mind it though. He secretly loved how you haunted him whenever you were apart.

"I'm not lyin', I've been a bad girl," you breathed out as he managed to make you drip with just one finger.

"You know, if you want me to spank you, baby, all you gotta do is ask," he cooed as he added a second finger pumping in and out of your eager cunt at an agonizing pace.

"Don't try to taunt me. You'll regret it," he continued as he picked up the pace.

You feel little fireworks ignite in your stomach hearing his words. A feeling you missed dearly that only he could give you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he added a third finger. "Mhmm—Toji, t-too much," you whined.

"You like that?" he cooed as he curled his finger up into your spongy sensitive spot.

"Yeah!" you almost squealed, looking away from yourself in the mirror.

"Yeah?" he teased as he roughly gripped your jaw pointing your face towards it.

"Uh huh," you sighed as you felt the heat rush to your face as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Toji was peering into your soul with a nasty smile plastered on his face, watching your body's reactions to his touch. Your body's reactions to his lips on your neck, his other hand fondling your boob through your dress, and his glistening fingers slipping out of your sopping wet cunt.

You whined at the sudden empty feeling. "You're so needy tonight. You miss me baby?" he teased. You pouted at him through the mirror.

You couldn't help but shamelessly rub your ass against his crotch as he took his pants off. He taunted you rubbing his swollen tip against your wet folds. "Want you inside," you whined.

"Ask nicely baby," he groaned.

"Daddy please, need you inside," you moaned.

"Atta giiirl," he purred as he lazily pushed his fat tip into your cunt.

The stretch was better than anything you could've imagined. Your walls fluttered around his cock as he pushed even further into you bottoming out. It took everything in him to not cum right away. He focused on his breathing tilting his head back trying to keep it all in.

You were growing impatient and brattier by the second. You moved your hips fucking into him eliciting a guttural groan. His hands roughly came to your hips bringing your movements to a full halt. "Behave yourself," he grunted as he bent you further over the sink back arching. He fucking into you slowly and all you could do was squeeze your eyes shut trying not to cum.

"Look at me when I fuck you, baby," he grunted as he picked up the pace.

That sensation of tiny explosions in your stomach came back causing your pussy to flutter around him. You were moaning uncontrollably. It was all too much, the stretch, the sweat, the music blasting, the dirty talking, and the finger he roughly lodged in your mouth to shut you up. "M'close Toji, needa cum, please~" you moaned

"You gonna cream on daddy's cock baby?" he cooed rubbing your puffy clit as his thrusts increased in speed.

"Yes, yes! Just l-like that Toji," you gasped.

It was all perfect: his pace, the hand placement, his finger rapidly rubbing at your aching clit. All of it was enough to make you come undone on his fat throbbing cock.

And that you did. Hard. If your knees weren't already weak, they were now. Your legs rapidly convulsed as you creamed around Toji's cock. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head; all you could see was white. Toji kept pumping in and out of your pussy as you came, fucking you through your high.

You were babbling incoherent praises as you came down from your high. "I'm gonna cum baby where do you want it?" he panted as he pulled out, continuing to pump himself trying to imitate the irreplaceable feeling of her pussy.

"Should I cum on those pretty tits?" he grunted smirking as you whimpered nonsense.

"Or maybe this perfect ass?" he suggested as his hips began to buck into his fist.

"Anywhere, anywhere—please just," you whimpered.

"Please what? Use your words, baby," he groaned.

"My face," you shamefully whispered.

"Huh?" Toji teased as you turned around getting on your knees looking up into his emerald green eyes.

"I want you to cum on my face, daddy," you pouted.

"There you go open up for me baby," he groaned as hips stuttered fucking into his fist. You immediately obeyed his command, opening your mouth for him, sticking out your tongue, and looking up at him the way he liked.

"Atta giiirl," he moaned, throwing his head back.

You tasted his salty cum on your tongue and you were hooked again. You were in deep. Way too in deep.

[ratcash-wasgud]

Desperately need more of that loser!Mizu content pookie,,,, 😔 have rebel!reader take her out to a party and Mizu being the most socially awkward dumbfuck

But watching reader get along so well with everyone else and dancing,,, need more girlfailure Mizu

・❥・Loser!Mizu Headcanons II・❥・

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

part 1

Heyyyy lovelies!! I got so many positive feedback over the last one I cried a whole ass river. Which I'm really happy about since I lovelovelove this concept. This turned out to be less than a headcanons post, and leans more towards a fanfic territory, but whatervs.

Nsfw, minors dni plspls.

Okay, enjoy ˏˋ°��*⁀➷

Mizu was never really a party-animal, which was weird to everyone since most people in basketball team were.

She listened to Taigen's stories about the ones he's been though, but it never really got her interested.

The music is always shit at parties too. She'd rather listen to her own playlists at home...or the playlists she made you and stare at the ceiling. Such fun.

She names them corny stuff like Sighs and Whispers.

Currently though, she is listening with wide eyes and lips pushed together as Taigen tells him about this new party he's planning on going. Why is it different than the other parties he brags about? This time, he heard you'll be there too.

She freaks out.

Still, Akemi encourages her to go, and when she says "Maybe you'll be lucky and get to dance with her" is when Mizu's head explodes.

Yeah, she's going to that party.

She need something to wear though. Something cool, something that screams "I can lift 165 pounds, I'd pay on all the dates and your mom would love me".

In the end though she settles on a graphic shirt, cargo shorts and her big ass shoes. Plus her usual shades as the finishing touch. It screams "I'm afraid to touch tits and I play minecraft unironically" instead of her goal, but whatever.

She needs to threathen herself in the mirror, have about three and a half breakdowns, throw her bag against the wall and scream into a pillow before she finally gets going with Taigen and Akemi, plus Ringo as the driver.

The party is loud, the air smells like sweat, smoke and alcohol and the people here are annoying. Mizu has lost her friends like fifty minutes ago since she came back from the bathroom, and since then she has been lingering in a corner, sipping her beer awkwardly.

Why is it so damn hard to enjoy a party anyways? Better question, what is there to enjoy? The lights make her head ache, the alcohol is shitty, people keep throwing joint and cigarette buds on the floor and it's the third time the DJ's playing-

"Glow!!" She hears a familiar voice scream as the song by Snow Wife starts playing, and she finally notices you.

Her breathing stops alltogether, as she almost crushes the beer in her hand. There you are. The first thing she sees are heart shaped sunglasses covering your pretty, pretty eyes. You have a black cropped tube top on with a leather jacket covering your shoulders.

"Fuck me..." Mizu breathes out, and feels her insides tingle. She means it too. She can't tear her eyes away from you, and the way you chug your drink while dancing. There are people around you, mostly other women in revealing outfits, and one or two guys in slutty tanktops. She wants to sooo badly go over there, but her legs won't move. So instead she does the next best thing. She just watches you dance around, and move yourself to the beat. Your body bounces. Jesus, it fucking bounces. Mizu almost throws up. She agressivley chugs down the rest of her drink and heads to the bathroom.

She stands before the mirror for a couple minutes after washing her face with ice cold tap water. "Fucking pussy." She murmurs as she looks at herself in the reflecting surface. "Why can't I just talk to her?" She says, putting her palms on her face, pulling the skin down. "Why was it so fucking easy to talk to her when we first met? 'Bout fucking bugs and shit... And why is to so damn scary now? It's just her! Her and her...fuckin' tits bouncing, and her collarbones, and she's probably sweaty and..." She starts murmuring to herself, feeling the familiar feeling of arousal hit her system. She splashes her face with water again, and marches out of the bathroom.

When she returns to the main area, she doesn't see you anywhere. Fuck! Is it over? Just like that? Did you leave with someone? Ugh.

Suddenly, Akemi appears next to Mizu, and starts dragging her to somehwere. "Mizu! Come, come! I was like, literally looking around for you for the last likkke...two songs. Totally! I was like "woah, she must've gotten lost" or like something." She says, clearly under the infulence of something plus alcohol. Mizu just groans in an annoyed way as she gets dragged into a room that definetly smells like weed.

Great.

Mizu starts grumbling until she spots you. You're sitting there, on the couch, laughing with Taigen and one of his asshole friends. "Mizu!" Taigen grins when she spots her. It's his usual shiteating, smug grin. "I though you went home or something." Akemi sits down on the couch too, dragging her along.

"Shut up." Mizu rolls her eyes as she flops down, being the most grateful woman ever, since her shades hide that she is literally staring at your lips as you put a blunt between them. She then makes eyecontact with you (or she assumes, since you're both wearing sunglasses), and you offer her the blunt with a small, rapsy chuckle.

She never tried weed before...but the aftertaste of you lips are on that thing, so she takes it withouth hesitation. It burns her throat as she inhales, but she keeps a straight face in order to stay nonchalant. But it's so, so hard. She almost squirms around on the couch when your fingers brush against hers as she passes you back the blunt.

"Soooo Mizu," You send a grin her way as you sit down on the armrest, right next to her. You ass is almost touching her arm. "I've never seen you at a party before. I'm glad you're here now though." You giggle.

She desperately wants to say "I only came now because of you!" but she restrains herself. "Uhhh, by the waaay, Mizu!" Akemi starts again, excitedly bouncing next to her. "D'ya know who I saw? Mikio! He's here too." She says with a tone that is supposed to be teasing, but to Mizu it's fucking annoying.

Mikio?! Mikio. Is she fucking serious? The one ex Mizu has, and never wants to fucking see again, is here?

"Whaaa? You guys know Mikio?" You join in, leaning over the back of the couch, arching on the arm rest. "Yah." Akemi responds casually. Don't say it. Don't you fucking say it. "He's Mizu's ex." Fuck.

Mizu sees you process the information, then you let out a deep, throathy laugh. "Are you fucking serious? Haa!" Akemi joins in the giggling too. "Yep. Mizu dated him when she was like...a senior in highschool I think. They were kinda cute though~"

Mizu wants the ground to swallow her whole. Here she is, with the woman she loves and her annyoing ass high friend, talking about her ex, who basically ruined her when they dated. She didn't even like him, it was all comphet, but when he broke up with her, she turned into a beast for weeks, snapping at anyone who she saw.

"Damn. I didn't know Mizu was into guys." You say, and it makes Mizu's blood stop flowing in her veins. Shit shit shit! Do you think she's straight now? Is she losing her already non existent chance?

"Uh, no, I-" Mizu starts but Akemi cuts her off. "Oh, she was very different back then! She was all girly, look, I think I have a picture." Akemi says and digs out her phone. "Wait, n-no-" Mizu beginst to protest but gets cut off by Akemi again. "Here, look! This was at one of their cute lil' picnics under some apple tree or some shit." Akemi shoves her phone in your face, and you lift your heart shaped sunglasses to see it better.

"Holy shit..." You say, as if in shock. "Mizu, is that really you?" You say, eyes wide in surprise and your eyebrows lifted as high as they can go.

"I uh..." Mizu's cheeks burn in shame. She knows that picture. It was taken a couple days before the brutal breakup. She really was different back then. She wore her hair in a high pony, and loved off the shoulder shirts. She hated herself so much back then. She teared up a little, but she was, again, the world's most grateful woman that she decied to wear her shades.

But you weren't stupid. "Akemi, here." You tossed her your phone as you stood up, knowing the girl's first insticnt will be to start taking goofy pictures at a 90 degree angle. She loves leaving those around in other people's phones. You then look at her, and quickly slide down her shades, discovering her tears. "H-hey, give that-" Mizu starts protesting, but it was too late. You were looking into her teary eyes. Before she could react, you place your own heart shaped ones on her face, and put hers on yours. Then with that, you lift the now barely lit blunt and start walking out. "Mizu's coming with me to check on the other's." You say casually, as if to Akemi and the other's who aren't paying attention, but really, it's to her. Mizu follows you outside, and you lead her to a small balcony. The cold air hits her, making her nose turn red right away. You chuckle and inhale a hit from the blunt.

"Needed some fresh air." You murmur and hold the blunt out for her. Mizu feels her heart throb. Did you really just notice her discomfort and pull her out of there? Oh God. It's just like back then...you're acting like you guys known eachother since forever, and she loves it. She slowly takes the blunt, but just looks at it first.

You chuckle. "You don't have to." You say with a grin but Mizu just shrugs and takes a hit. "Thanks." She whispers and you shoot her a smile. Not a grin, or a smirk. A smile.

"If you don't like places like this, why are you here?" You ask. "Because it's obvious you don't. Did Akemi drag you along?" Is Mizu that transparent? Or can you just read people? Well, whatever it is, Mizu feels oddly vulnerable.

A long silence.

"I wanted to see you." She murmurs, letting the ash fall from the blunt. Your eyebrows lift up, and you cock your head to the side.

"Yeah?"

...

"Yeah." Mizu takes another hit, feeling her insides getting slowly relaxed and passes you back the blunt.

"Hm." You hum. "Why me?" You ask, your tone calm. It still has that usual raspy edge to it, but it's so...soothing. Mizu can't help but wish you'd wisper in her ear.

"I..." Mizu needs to take a deep breath. Fhuuuck it's hard to talk about feelings. "Re...remember when we met at the aquarium?"

"Yep...it was cool. Nobody listens to me ramble about bugs that much." You chuckle, trying to ease the vibes.

"I fell in love with you that day. I..I think, at least." Mizu blurts out, imidiately feeling her whole face burn up. "B-Before you say anything though, I don't expect you to like me back. I don't expect anything. I-I just wanted you to know, beca-" She starts rambling, her voice all shaky, but she suddenly gets caught off by you laughing out loud.

"Jesus, that's such a fucking cute thing to say." You say, slowly pushing her shades up your head, into your hair. "Color me wooed." You say, putting on an amused grin.

Mizu just blinks rapidly, her cheeks turning all the shades of red and crimson. Did...did that really work? How? "I...really?" She manages to croak out.

"Yup." You say, slowly stepping closer. "So what's next, hm? Now that you can expect stuff?"

Mizu can feel her insides shaking. Oh my God. You...you are flirting with her. You. The one who had her in a chokehold for months, the one who was the only one who Mizu could think about while touching herself, the one, single coolest woman ever...

"C-Can I...uh...kiss you?" Mizu asks carefully, and you, instead of an answer, slowly wrap her arms around her slender neck, pulling her down to your level, making her bend over.

"Guess." Fuck. You're so goddamn hot. Mizu decides to don't give a shit about her nerves, and just kisses you. It's an urgent, sloppy and akward kiss, with your teeth clanking sometimes, and she feeling out of rhythm. But it's okay. You still enjoy it. Why? Because she's so cute. Endearing even. The way her lips cling to you, as if you're her salvation, the way her hands depserately grasp at your hips...you feel like getting lost in it. Slowly, she pushed you down, hiding the both of you behind the railing.

"L-Let me...please let me..." Mizu muttered in a breahty, depserate whisper, her long fingers slowly curling around your right breast. Oh, it was so soft, You put a hand on her cheek, caressing it with a smile, and her eyes shined with the now given green light. She yanked down your tupe top, revealing your strapless bra which she got rid of too.

She got mesmerized by the sight of your bare boobs, perky nipples staning proud, as she ran her finger's along it's curve. She imagined them so many times, but they're somehow so much better in reality. Her lips latched around one of the nipples, almost moaning at the feeling of the hard bud agaist her tongue. She started swirling her tongue around it like her life depended on it. Her head was reeling, taking a pause to take your sunglasses off her face, and putting it on the gorund, then getting right back to work. Your soft little sighs, the way your fingers toyed with the loose strands of hair falling out from her bun...it made her soaked already.

"Hah...that's a good girl." You murmur and Mizu can physically feel her slick drip out of her. She can't take it anymore. She let's her hands grip your belt, and they start to unbuckle it.

When she finally manages to slide down your pants, she's met with...cute little panties. Such a contrast to your outfit, but she loves it. She's the only one who knows what kind of panties you're wearing tonight. She starts sliding her fingers up and down your folds through the clotch, as if teasing you, but in reality, Mizu's teasing herself. She can feel the material get more and more wet the more she rubs it. You're body is responding to her...it's aware she's there, and it's aware that she's trying to turn you on.

She lifts her head, fingers hooking the band of your panties. "Please...c-can I just...you know..." Mizu murmurs, but you stop her, putting a hand on her wrist.

"Say it clearly, and I'll let you." You say, her voice low and raspy. It makes Mizu's clit throb. "Otherwise no."

She gulps and licks drool from her lips. "Can I...please, just...taste you? To...eat you out." She croacks out, not even believeing she said that to you, but you just give her a smile in return. You slowly push her down, so that she's laying on the floor, her back hitting the tiles of the balcony. You straddle her chest, and Mizu watches with wide eyes and a baited breath as you slide your panties to the side, revealing your folds and their...their beautiful color, scent and let your slick drip down to her neck.

"Here you go...all for you." You whisper as you lower yourself onto her lips. Her lips lock on your flesh, her hands wrapping around thighs depserately. She quietly moans into your heat, having the time of her life. Oh, you taste so good...and she can feel your juices drip down her throat. The way you keep slowly grinding into her makes her hips buck againts nothing. You notice that though, and lean back onto your hands, and put one of them on her crotch.

You're touching her. You're actually touching her. Mizu feels like she could cum just from this. She keeps lapping at you like a starved woman, legs spreading as if on command as you hand snakes inside her pants. She starts whimpering into your entrance, her tongue pushing inside as you play directly with her clit. It throbs for you, and only for you as your soft fingers circle around, and on it.

"tastes 'sgoood...please fuck me...fuck 'm, please." Mizu keeps mumbling and whimpering against your pussy, pushing her whole face into it, as she pulls you lower, as if she wants to burry and hide in it. You grin, as you slip one gentle finger inside her. You're actually inside her. Fuck, the love of her life is inside her, as her juices drip down her throat, deep into her system.

"Yeah, mhm...good girl." You say breathlessly, slowly pumping two fingers inside her, as you approach her climax. Even if she never done this before, she's very good at eating pussy it seems. You move your fingers faster, curling your fingers, and as Mizu's moans get louder, you push harder against her, muffling her, since there are people on the other side of the door. "Sh...ssh, come on...cum for me." You say, as you feel yourself tipping over the edge.

You don't have to ask twice though, because just from the way you whisper to her, orgasm crashes over Mizu's whole nervous system. She squirms under you, until you slowly pull your finegr out of her.

After going back to the rest of the group, Mizu needs to pretend like she didn't just fuck the girl of her dreams, since that would've made it akward. So she sits down on the couch once again, and keeps quiet, watching you interact with the people around, like you're some magical creature, mesmerizing her.

After Ringo calls her up, tellig her that he's there to pick them up, Mizu collects Akemi and Taigen, and stuffs them inside Ringo's car. You walk her out though, and cheekily press a kiss on her neck before you wave goodbye.

Moments after Mizu gets home, she locks the door behind herself, and lets out the loudest scream ever. A victory scream, if you will.

Right before she gets into the shower, her phone buzzes with a notification. It's from you.

"hey. i had a good time."

"i'm gonna be at the aquarium tomorrow btw."

Mizu blinks at the texts. Did she just get invited to a date? Uh, fuck yeah!

"can't wait."

She texts back, and later that night, she can't help but play the image of what you did with her on that balcony. Her heat aches again, and she can't help but touch herself. But something changed.

It doesn't feel as good anymore...she wants your touch again. She got a small taste of Heaven, and she needs more. She can't wait until the date.

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

okay . while i was writing the essay , i was going on a big spiel about how fandoms often reduce characters to familiar archetypes . then when i finished writing i realized i actually don't know what the Fuck i was yapping about because it all doesn't really apply to the tadc fandom post-ep 2 ? like Cool !! ragatha's an absolute loser of a woman , i think everyone has known that at this point .

basically ragatha's not the Best model for when i want to talk about nice characters being mischaracterized in fandom because i stopped seeing people making her put-together anyway . i can think of other characters that'll fit the thesis better .

i'm only deciding to post what i had down because i think i did say some stuff of note and because people were interested for . some reason ! . just keep in mind that it kind of became a nothingburger .

i'm in the middle of rewriting it to be less about the fandom though and my god it's already around 1118 words what am i doing with my life

also apologies in advance for the walls of text

——— this is not an essay to get you to like ragatha if you’re feeling meh towards her , or even dislike her . opinions are opinions , you have characters that appeal to you and i have mine ! this is just a ramblefest on why i love her , how people characterized her , and commentary on fandom culture as a whole

this is also not meant to bash any headcanons ! like good for you if you see her as the mother figure in the circus found family . the term ‘ mom friend ‘ here is used to describe how people often reduced her and similar characters down to a caretaker role for other characters while ignoring the Depth they have

as i think is clear in this blog by now , my favorite character in a piece of fiction has always been a mentally ill woman . the more complicated the brain , the better . i don’t have a type , but i know more often than not i would gravitate towards characters that are either misunderstood or disliked by most of the fandom

can you guess which category ragatha falls under —

don’t get me wrong , i am NOT generalizing tadc fans here ! the idea of her being a well-put together person lessened around episode 2 which is GREAT because i got to read very cool fics — and i’m not saying you have to know every part of ragatha’s thought processes to talk about her ( though at this point i think i’ve heard enough takes that makes me want to say that — )

‘ nice characters ‘ ( especially female ones ! ) in fandom never have the most pleasant development in my experience . either they will be pushed aside because they’re seen as boring compared to the more brasher characters or they’ll be disliked for the few times they did something seen as ‘ not so nice ‘ . and in the few times where they Are being paid attention , they’ll be put in an arbitrary box that waters down their traits .

in other words , fandoms put characters in boxes . terms like ‘ mom friend ‘ and ‘ cinnamon roll ‘ are those boxes . they're common tropes in media that fandoms typically like . it’s why people were so disappointed to find out that jax is actually an unlikable asshole instead of a ' jerk with a heart of gold ' — these boxes make the characters easy to consume and understand .

as you can tell , i don’t agree with putting characters in boxes ! first of all , how are they supposed to breathe in there ?

secondly , it’s just restricting yourself from genuinely engaging with a piece of media , especially for a character-driven story like tadc . i would be More forgiving of this problem if tadc was a plot-heavy show where the lore’s the main focus , but The Characters Are The Focus , Johnathan . trying to understand the characters personally to extract any potential moral lessons from them Is The Point of those types of stories

thirdly , i call those boxes arbitrary for a reason ; they often don't describe the characters at all , and in some cases , even goes against their characterization . my biggest problem with mom friend ragatha is that it Takes away the things that makes her interesting as a character .

do you know what's so compelling about ragatha ? it's that , believe it or not , she is Not the most reliable . one of the most fascinating things with ragatha in episode two is how it shows her approaching emotions Vs. Pomni approaching emotions .

even though it's unintentional , ragatha can be seen as Dismissive and Overbearing . the way she tried to reassure pomni of not feeling hurt by being left behind can seem Passive-Aggressive . her conversation with kinger shows that she Assumes what the other person thinks without hearing them out . this contrasts against pomni who lets gummigoo speak out his feelings and actually had viable things to say than ' don't worry about it haha '

this contrast is interesting to note because it shows the world of difference between ragatha and pomni's emotional maturity .

you can tell that ragatha can be simple-minded . not in a ' she's a dumbass ' way , but in that she's Reluctant to approach uncomfortable emotions without beaming it with a ray of positivity . like you can tell she thinks that Repressing her emotions to the point she can't feel them is the same as ' processing ' them . all of these are stuff that don't fit the Mature Mom Friend archetype .

and that's Fine !! because she was never meant to be in the role anyway !! there's a common theme of Community and Support in tadc , and that Everyone Has Each Other . ragatha was never meant to be the Glue holding everyone together , she's meant to be a part of the Unit that is the circus .

there's also a conversation to be had about how older female characters — or at least characters that are seen as having stereotypically ' feminine ' traits of being kind and caring — are often being pushed to a reductive , supportive familial role that reinforces gender roles , but you didn't hear it from me !

anyways uh in conclusion ragatha's awesomesauce ok i'm going back to drawing

[marimology]

Pairing: ichiji vinsmoke x charlotte! trans masc reader

notes: smut, cnc (consensual) , arranged marriage ( mentions sanji and pudding), somewhat romeo and juliet inspired trope, Getting caught, almost getting caught, only ‘person?’ who knows about the relationship is y/n’s door because it lets them know if someone is nearby, transponder snail sex (phone sex), this is me letting my brain cook like sanji , cuckholding

a/n : I love this red headed loser, also my requests are open , ichiji is a girl dad argue with the wall

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who did not expect to fall in love with the 7th son of Charlotte LinLin when he and his family came over came over to whole cake to discuss the marriage between sanji and pudding. ears perking as you heard that they would be here for the next four months.

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who when he saw you sitting next to mama his heart would flutter whenever you would try to hold a conversation with him and you would stop as you noticed big mom staring down at you.

ICHJI VINSMOKE who after a month of being on whole cake finally got the courage to ask you out con a date and being surprised when you said yes but you two would have to choose wisely as the public only knew about Sanji and puddings wedding. so he took you out for a picnic underneath a bridge.

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who loved to leave hickeys around your body but in places where you would be able to hide them after every day so you wouldn’t get in trouble with your family and vise versa.

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who loves to threaten you with cumming inside of you every time that you both fuck so that you could walk around with his baby and your family would be wondering whose the father.

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who once him and his family left whole cake,missed the touch of your skin and your velvet walls clenching around his cock begging him not to cum inside of you, and your whimpers as you felt his cock form a bludge in your belly .

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who loves to call you after a raid, jerking off to your wanted poster each time your bounty raises saying that he’d turn you into the marines only after fucking you in front of them first. you both have memorized your respective family members sleep schedules memorized as you would masturbate on a call together as the transponder snail would capture all of your pretty noises.

it has now been over a year

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who kept a calendar hidden in his room where he’d count down the days until the next time they’d go to whole cake so he could show you how much he missed you and could pepper your skin with kisses once more, and that night he brought up the topic of getting married in secret which you happily said yes to with tears forming and he wears a cape on his suit that has a button / ring that’s actually his wedding ring whilst you wear yours as a pair of earrings

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who only hated sanji more because he couldn’t publicly say that you were his husband.

sanji vinsmoke who when walking past ichiji’s room heard him end a call with a “love you” but couldn’t pick out who he was talking to … it’s not like he wanted to anyways he care less as to what that asshole was doing he knew he couldn’t feel any emotion towards anyone

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who as soon as Germa docked back on whole cake and they had sanji meet pudding. went to find you in your room and embraced you in the warmest hug that you’ve ever felt and it was your first embrace as husbands. and later that night had you whimpering on his cock and told you how much he missed you as your brain was being turned into mush as you were being forced to take his cock after being overstimulated.

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who was happy that straw-hat came wanting to save sanji because that meant that if sanji leaves then he could publicly marry you

brulee charlotte who should’ve minded her own damn business when she was looking through her mirror realm and saw you being made to look at the mirror by a siluette that she couldn’t make out nor did she want to

yonji vinsmoke who wanted to spar with you and went to your room and asked your door to speak with you but was pissed off when it said you were busy and snuck around to try and see what you possibly could’ve been doing that was more important than sparring with him and almost falling over when he saw the sight of you sitting on his brothers lap taking his dick with your face buried in his neck and a Visual Den Den Mushi recording every moment of it as ichiji whispered praises. he should’ve minded his own damn business, but he could see the love in his brothers eyes as he looked you

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who’s heart shattered when big mom announced that she had arranged a marriage between you and a princess from a neighboring kingdom. and you both spared quick glances at eachother, but the poor girl clearly looked like she was in love

later that same night he took both you and the girl to your room and fucked you in front her. telling her that she’d never get a chance to feel how good you are and she should just go somewhere and die because she’s a homewrecker.

And ironically she was found dead the next day and you didn’t know who it was that killed her….. it was ichiji

YOU AND ICHIJI who took the chance to feign your own deaths during the fight between the big mom pirates ,vinsmokes, and straw hats and ran away to be able to live a happy life together only yonji knows you two are still alive

ICHIJI VINSMOKE who is definitely not the worlds most perfect husband but is happy that you even decided to give him a chance

it’s been four years since that day and everyone mourns the lost of you two but little do they know you both live in the same secluded town with your older sister lola and are raising 2 children

TAGLIST: @henrioo @gomugomuslip

©marimology do not steal or copy my work

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 80 (Conrad and His Father)

cw: coarse language, tense family dynamic, follows the events of this post

Life after Helena Gordon's death was difficult for the men she left behind. Years later, Conrad and his father still struggled with her loss. The apartment furnishings were unchanged, and no photos to remember her hung on the walls.

Another call from his son's high school guidance counselor left Stephen Gordon at a loss. He feared their connection was slipping away.

"Another fist fight? What was it this time?"

"It was nothing. They were just assholes."

"If you keep this up, you might not graduate."

"Who cares what I do? We all just die anyway."

"Son, I know you're better than this. You want more than this; I know you do. You know your mother would want more for you, too."

"Oh, now you want to talk about her? You only bring her up when you want to tell me what a loser I am!"

"I never said anything like..." He stopped himself. All Conrad ever wanted to do was argue, and Stephen was running out of patience. "What is it that you need, son? You won't talk to any counselors, you won't talk to me..."

"I don't want to talk about your bullshit opinions, Dad!"

"Well, what do you want to talk about? How are your college applications coming along?"

Conrad grunted. "Fine."

"What major are you-"

"I don't know! Fuck! Are you that excited to get me out of this place?"

"You have to get this anger under control, son. I don't know how you're going to do it, but think about the kind of father you'll want to be someday. You can't scream at-"

"I'm never having kids. Ever."

Stephen threw up his hands in exasperation. "Fine. Don't have kids! Don't finish high school without getting yourself expelled, and don't amount to a goddamned thing! Maybe you need to channel this anger into working out or something."

"We can't afford a gym membership," Conrad scoffed. "The Landgraabs pay you shit money and you're still working off all Mom's medical bills."

"You're smart and you're resourceful. Figure it out! But you're not moping around here, and the next time you get in a fight at school, I'll pull you out and force you to work Landgraab security with me for the rest of your miserable existence."

In a huff, Conrad locked himself in his room. Despite his nihilistic outburst, he pulled out his math homework and focused on the equations to calm his mind.

His mother would never approve of his grades slipping, especially now that he was less than a year from his high school graduation. She'd left them, but her ambitious spirit still flickered quietly in her grief-stricken son. He was only doing these stupid equations for her. "I hope you're happy," he muttered under his breath.

He hated how close she felt - like she was always just a phone call away - even though she was gone. It was so unfair.

After an hour, his father knocked on the door. With a roll of his eyes, Conrad stood to let him in. Right away, Stephen sat on the bed. "I'm sorry I yelled at you," he said. "I've just tried so hard to reach you and I'm at my wit's end."

"It's fine. I thought I might head down to the gym tomorrow and see if they're hiring. I'm pretty sure employees get free memberships."

Stephen Gordon grinned proudly. "I said you were resourceful, son. I think that's a great idea."

So Conrad got a part-time job at the local gym, scrubbing the toilets and changing rooms in exchange for free use of the machines. His embrace of physical activity helped get him through his senior year.

His grades got him into Foxbury Institute for Computer Science, and he even started looking to his future with a renewed sense of excitement.

On his graduation day, the smiles he shared with his father were genuine, even if both could feel Helena's absence as strong as ever.

"She's so proud of you, son. I know she is."

He nodded, careful not to get wrapped up in referring to his mother in the present tense. "She would be."

Off on his own in Britechester, Conrad took his new independence seriously. He and his father had nowhere near enough money for him to blow off his education and waste the tuition.

He spent long hours studying in the old library, and it wasn't long before he found a local gym to help manage his emotions.

Pappy Murphy had been a boxer, and Conrad was drawn to the punching bags. Treadmills and weight machines couldn't match the pummeling he could give his own emotional baggage with a set of gloves and a bag.

The gym soon became his home away from home, and he spent time there as often as he could... ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

WCIF Boxing Gym? Pappy Murphy's Boxing Gym by SimDoughnut in the Sims 4 Gallery. I didn't realize until after I placed the lot in game, but it comes with a secret underground Fight Club-esque fight room and creepy scientific lair, too (with a weather machine in it!) and this place is screaming for some storyline but (for now!) it's only in my flashback save.

Fun discovery, because I was literally just looking for a gym in the gallery with boxing equipment so I could try to isolate whatever mod script was preventing me from placing punching bags in any gym after the last patch (it was Mercuryfoam's Martial Arts mod, and that's a bummer because I want this skill back from Sims 3 very much and I believe the mod is no longer being updated!)

[azulsluver]

I'm assuming this was already talked about/mentioned in your posts but I do kinda wonder how awful it would be for reader during holidays and general breaks from school (bully au). Like- They would either be COMPLETELY isolated since they can't technically go home since this ain't even their world and everyone hates them, or they would have to deal with their bullies every. Single. Day. Which is hilarious to me because I can see at least some of them staying even though they were supposed to go home and rest and enjoy their break from school, so prefect just asks "Why are you even here tormenting me bro?! Don't you have a family" and the bullies have to come up with excuses to save their egos

I sometimes do go in depth detail on where reader lives within twisted wonderland because I tend to stray near canon lore. Options are that they completely have ramshackle as their home or Crowley in the kindness of his heart buys a place for them within the island (it’s close to the school just in the woods hidden deep)

tw: yandere, bully!characters, mentions of bruises/blood and vomit, force feeding/throwing up, unhealthy relationships, stalking.

(College setting)- there are other students that are staying during breaks but let’s be real no one’s gonna help you

The only major holiday that has the NRC students leaving was winter break, spring and summer. Here’s my take on each. Not proof read btw!

Winter: Azul, Jade And Floyd

No surprise to canon, but their excuse to stay during break is nightmare fuel for you. You can’t run away because that only peruse Floyd and Jade to chase you down. Azul pretends to not see the abuse you’re going through. In fact he feels less occupied when the twins set their eyes on you. There is no best scenario because you should be used to Floyd coming into your room at random times.

Quote on quote, “best break ever” is exaggerated greatly whenever Floyd gets his hands on you. You’re wheezing like a dying fish as he asks you if you’re ok. Knowing it’ll piss you off but you’re on the verge of death so it pisses you off even more.

I think staying with Floyd is the better option but it REALLY depends, Jade gets a little quirky at night. Waking up on a table and strapped as he gives you shot after shit of who knows what into your system. Pretty unhinged as it’s in the dead of night and it’s freezing cold. More stoic when performing these things. Jade never gets the chance or time to do this to you so that’s off his bucket list.

Azul stuffs himself in his room all day. Only going out for a jog as he looks the other way as you’re being dragged off while clawing on the floor. It’s too early for that okz. But he’s gonna tire from your screaming and crying so he grudgingly let’s you stay in his room whenever the twins are out to hunt you down.

That’s only if you are being too much of a nuisance to him^^

Because you’re involved in the subject of his problems he gets more snappy with the twins when they try to barge into his room. Lecturing them and often times loudly making deals to lend you to them because you’re so much work. He doesn’t tho. Like a father who never wanted a dog, he tends to your needs with a sneer and turn. Does this mean you’re staying in his room the whole break? Yes. Can you try to leave? Yes. Will Azul call you ungrateful and manipulate you that the twins will bother you again. Yes.

Slumber party!!! Floyd’s idea btw. Victim of every losers downfall, getting slapped and punched whenever Floyd loses a board game. Hands nearly breaking because Jade is too cool to show anger so he takes it out on you as a joke. Azul winning said games.

Floyd WILL suffocate you in your sleep on purpose. Slumber parties with him are never a good idea because any chance to scare you he takes it. Going to the bathroom? What a coincidence he’s awake and on the side of the wall behind the door you’re leaving. Waking up? He’s staring deep into your soul just so you can cry and roll away.

Wanna talk about you staying in Azul’s room because he lets you sleep on his bed (wow omg luxury bed knocked out ZZZzzz) because he’s doing work on his desk. Often times you wake up to him sleeping on his desk. Give it a week in the break and he’s all over you. His arms in a crushing grip as he holds you in sleep, you feel like it’s forbidden to move because you’re scared he might squeeze harder than Floyd.

This only happened ONCE. Sleeps on the floor and makes dumb excuses like “humans have such odd body temperature it was like an instinct to cuddle something cold.” Or “I hold things a lot when I’m in my merform this is nothing personal.”

Spring: Ace, Epel, Ruggie

Ace and Epel straight up tell you they’re here to have a great spring break together. By that they mean messing with you. These assholes start off slow, egging your dorm, blasting loud music. Anything to get your fatigue up, that way you can start messing things up on accident when it was all purposely set.

The duo are relentlessly pursuing their harassment from day to night, until in a couple of days within the break do things stop. It’s terrifying, walking on eggshells at how they ignore you during walks, opening the door for you, heck even Epel left a basket of apples on your front door. It’s leaving you paranoid and they know it, with their innocent going smiles and tilted heads. You wish you had some form of power to get those two without getting 2v1.

Alright this is where Ruggie comes in the picture. He’s there not by choice, instead paid by Leona to watch over you since Ace has a big mouth about his plans with you.

Ruggie randomly shows up in your dorm. He’s not doing much except making sure you’re eating and not brutally beaten near death. But you can find him grudgingly cleaning the place out of boredom, catching him dusting off shelves after your success in escaping the two. He threatens you out of embarrassment to not think much of it…he just thinks you’re really dirty to leave in such an unkept place.

He does at time chase Ace and Epel off, they don’t seem to bother you much when you’re with him. So you took this to advantage to stick to him like candy. You’ve only had this type of protection with Jack, on the other hand was much more comfortable to hang around with besides the deadpan stares.

Your safe haven can only be kept for so long, once money is involved. Ruggie is counting the wad of cash by the side as the two nudge your head with their foot. Ace blames you for making the last three days of their break boring, you should’ve known better than to run off when things were getting good. Didn’t you know good pal Epel prepared some fine treats for you? (Don’t eat them).

It’s no use crying for help, Ruggie can only shrug his shoulders and tell the two not to kill you before walking away. Your last bits of hope destroyed as Epel smacks the back of your head a couple of times, saying you must be brain dead so they’ll help you out. You’re really starting to miss Jack, as apple slices are being shoved into your mouth, Ace repeatedly thrusting three fingers down your throat to making you vomit. You’re delirious when hung upside down from a tree, the two taking turns hitting you blindfolded with a bat, luckily it’s wooden but the pain still blows.

You’ll be ruffled up with a pat in the head as Ace blows smoke in your face, telling you that you did good. Epel is more enthusiastic after all that, pinching at your blood socked nose to stop the bleeding. The two are joyous and leave by throwing a couple of dollars your way. Just looking at it makes you sick as you sob on the floor, seeing Ruggies shoes.

Sobbing on the way home with Ruggie by your side, staring off into the distance whilst ignoring your loud wails. You know it annoys him but he doesn’t say anything until the door closes, he’s lazily patching up your open wounds and dabbing them with a clean cloth. Giving you medicine—if you refuse to take them he will force you. You can only conceal your sniffles by rubbing your eyes and blowing your nose with tissue. Ruggie has his back turned as he tells you to do better. If you keep it up you’ll die sooner or later at this rate. So take it as a lesson to build character.

You can’t help but agree, maybe it was the medicine taking place. But you gruffly settle down with him, he’s sitting besides you with a empty look on his face. You cant tell why he’s staring at your beaten body like some interesting figure but you preferred it like this. Dropping your head on his shoulder as you rest, because you know he’s gonna let it happen all over again.

Might as well take his advice.

Summer: Sebek, Silver, Malleus, Lilia

This was all Malleus. His idea 100%. He’d rather not spend his break staying in his enclosure with running maids and fearing fae. Instead he’d prefer is the one fearing was coming from you. And since Malleus had decided to spend his break by bothering you Silver and Sebek have no choice but to come along.

Sebek is absolutely furious once he finds out the reason Malleus wanted to stay in campus was to see you. You! Out of everyone!!! There are times where Malleus must leave campus to attend his princely duties, leaving Sebek having the opportunity to get his hands on you. By that he’s choking the shit outta you until you’re blue. He doesn’t wanna be here with YOU, now he’s stuck babysitting you. Thankfully Silver is there to prevent Sebek from successfully killing you.

You cling onto Silver like he’s your last hope. He can only do so much when Sebek is frothing at the mouth because he has the “audacity” to step in the punishments that are so rightfully placed on you. Like come on man what would Malleus think?

Malleus is into it. Tells Silver that if you ever step out of line it’s only right for him to put you back in place, physically. Silver can only stand back with a frown, not too much to displease Malleus.

Lilia comes in later, he’s wondering where his sons went. He comes at a weird timing, you’re being examined because Malleus is interested in all the marks you’ve received. It’s amazing how you’re still alive, with a kind of your own as well. Lilia won’t do much rather than spectate Malleus’s adventures with you, rather than indulging in his desires he stands by the side to make sure Malleus nor Sebek won’t go too far. They may not listen to Silver but they certainly will to him.

If you want to be left COMPLETELY alone it can only be at night with curtains over your windows. Forbid the many times you’ve shit your pants in the middle of the night to see Malleus looming over your window. Be it sleeping or walking to the kitchen he’s dead staring. For some good reason he doesn’t throw much of a fit when you use the curtains to hide from his prying eyes.

You might think Lilia is off the hook of finally leaving you alone then you’re dead wrong! Standing by the side, yea more like giving more advice to Malleus and Sebek on how to properly punish you. Back in his days punishments were something else, since you’re human they gotta go on the low. So if Lilia felt like it he can just tell them some unique and grotesque ways to get you drooling and screaming like some pig.

Silver will be there after they’re done, being told to get you cleaned up and ready for the next trick. You really don’t wanna know, but you’re silent during your healing process, he feels bad yet doesn’t voice his opinions on it.

Oh and they almost carved a sick tattoo of dragon wings on your back but Sebek suggested that he use his sword to do it and you passed out from the thought. Not your first rodeo but you know damn well none of them will be putting you on meds during the whole thing.

[angel-of-the-moons]

hii!!! i love ur work!!! i was just wondering if u could do a part 2 of the hobie x reader where they have no strings attached when they were both reallyyyyy horny

(if u could, could they be like uhh either reader or Hobie somehow is close to getting a relationship [or is acc just going to answer someone asking one of them out and wants to be exclusive] and is talking to the other abt it and it could change their little f buddies relationship or something maybe angsty?? maybe fluff?? or maybe like yeah no congrats lets do this one last time until you break up)

thank u v much!!!

No Strings Attached Pt. 2

Hobie x Fem!Reader

(Hobie and Reader are obviously adults in this fic.)

TW/CW: NSFW, Smut, PiV sex, counter sex, condom usage, safe sex, wee bit of angst, feelings, a whole lotta feelings(?), marijuana/pot usage (bro nobody can convince me Hobie seriously doesn't smoke it), some alcohol, bad date

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Spoiler alert: Strings got attached. A bit shorter than the first chapter, but I like it like this

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You and Hobie had agreed to be "friends with benefits" on the account that the biggest rule was it wouldn't affect your friendship, that you wouldn't lose each other due to petty bullshit.

And it was a system that worked. Mostly.

Hobie couldn't deny the twinge of... of something inside him when he saw some loser bloke try to rizz you up with cheap pickup lines. He would crush it by downing a cheap shot of whatever liquor he had, and remind himself that you could do whatever--or whoever--you wanted.

In the end he never had to worry, though. Whenever you needed that "itch" scratched, you two would hook up. Most of the time in his flat, or yours, sometimes he'd park his van somewhere and you two would do it there.

One time you two were in the middle of something and some coppers started pounding on the van doors. You two were quick to make sure they knew they were interrupting something, and peel out before they asked too many questions.

Man, the look on their faces when you swung the door open while only dressed in your panties and one of Hobie's almost-too-tight tank tops was priceless...

You two were hooking up more and more often, the relief and euphoria of just having rounds of backbreaking sex was almost enough to distract you from everything that occurred during the day.

Almost.

Right now you were bent over your kitchen counter, Hobie's long, nimble hands gripping your hips as though his life depending upon it as he stuffed his cock into you at an earth-shattering pace.

"Gh--fuck." You groaned, wiping the drool from the corner of your mouth. "God--fucking--damn it." You bite out after each punishing thrust, stuffing you full in a way that only he has been able to manage this far.

"Ey? What's what?" Hobie chuckled breathlessly as his hips smack into your ass, sending the skin ripping as he fucked into you. "Got somethin' t' say, luv?"

The moment he angled his hips at just the right angle, your body went rigid, your gummy walls crushing down around him as you came around his cock, squeezing him tight as he kept pushing and pulling into your hot cunt.

You buried your face in your arms as they folded on the counter, whimpering as Hobie gritted his teeth and pounded into you at a less coordinated, frantic pace, instead focusing on his own release and need to cum, now.

God damn was Hobie a good lay. He was probably one of the better sexual partners you've ever had, always making sure you cum before he does, taking the time to learn what makes you tick; taking you apart with every swipe and stroke of his fingers and cock.

You wondered how in the fuck Hobie hadn't gotten a girlfriend. Had half the women in the city known how endowed and how well-versed he was in sex, he'd had every eligible bachelorette (and not) breaking down his door to have a chance for a romp in the sheets with him.

You felt Hobie slam up into you in a way that knocked air from your lungs in a choking gasp, eyes rolling back as you felt the condom swell with his cum as he fucked you through his high.

"Fuckin' shit." You sigh, laughing softly as you relax as the last few waves of his orgasm ebbed.

"Mmm... Now what were you sayin' earlier?" Hobie laughed, swatting your ass playfully.

"Ugh. Don't do that!" You laugh at him over your shoulder.

"Mmm, fine fine." He said, cock still sheathed inside you as he put his hands up dismissively. "Now what is it?"

"Oh, right. I have a date tonight."

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You'd gotten all dolled up, your best dress, nice comfy heels, makeup... The works.

Your dress was a deem emerald green plunge, v-neck that revealed the right amount of cleavage; the hem of the dress ended just above your knees, a slit cut up to mid-thigh, revealing the sheer stockings you wore that hugged your thigh.

You had been asked out by a man who looked far too out of his element in the punk pub you both met in, but he seemed charming and relatively well-mannered. Better than half the drunk idiots who hit on you when you went out.

And being brought to a four-star restaurant? Yeah, you were an idiot to say no to that. You weren't shallow, but hey, you've never gone anywhere this fancy before.

And he seemed nice, you really hoped that maybe, just maybe, you could have a sincere relationship with him. Like, as in, keys to the flat, boyfriend material kind of relationship.

Yeah. You were wrong.

An hour into the date and you were tempted to slip an SOS to the waiter to distract him long enough for you to slip away from Garrett (your date).

He was arrogant, a snobbish prude who, upon inspecting your dress, crinkled his nose and said he expected someone as "refined" as you to dress more conservatively. He also said that women should not be involved with such "heavy" music such as punk, rock, or metal; which happened to be some of your favorite genres.

Garrett had also admitted that the last woman he was with wasn't forthright about her previous "dalliances" in bed. That she was "used goods" and couldn't "satisfy his needs" in a way that a woman lacking would be able to do.

Translation: he was so shit in bed he wanted a woman who had no experience to compare his miserable excuse of a forty-second orgasm, bean dick to.

A misogynistic prick who had a virgin fetish.

Yeahhhh... No.

You finally got sick of it, standing up and splashing your chocolate martini all down his expensive suit, the brown liquid staining the white of his button-up.

"Blood hell, are you insane--?!" Garret spat at you, standing up to glare at you.

"I'm fucking my best friend." You say, flipping him the bird after slapping a wad of notes on the table for the poor wait staff. "So you can take your weak ass dick and fetishes to some club where women can point and laugh at you, since you think women who have "given themselves" to men before you are disgusting."

Your heels clicked as you spoke over your shoulder, "And you can lose my number."

The whole restaurant went quiet, aghast and amazed, breaking out into excitable murmurs about the scene that unfolded.

The staff gossiped about it for days.

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"Bloody hell!" Hobie laughed as he slapped his knee as you retold the story. "Wish I coulda seen that bloke's face!"

"Ugh, I was so close to skewering his eye with a champagne flute." You sigh, taking a drag of the joint in-between your lips, puffing the smoke out of your nose with practiced ease.

"Ah, if ya did that I'd have to bust you free from the goddamn cops." Hobie snorted derisively as you passed him the joint.

"My hero!" You say, clasping your hand under your chin and batting your eyelashes theatrically.

Hobie laughed, choking on the smoke as he puffed the joint. "You li'le shit! Don't make me laugh while I'm smoking!"

You giggle and kick your feet at him as his spindly hand swats at you.

Once your laughter dies down, you lay your legs across his lap, and you both fall into a comfortable silence, smoking and drinking as you watch the television.

His thumb caresses soothing circles into your ankles, your heels long discarded and tossed by his door.

Surprisingly, to his credit... Hobie didn't slide his hand up your thigh and under your dress like you anticipated he'd do. He kept his hands low, massaging you.

And you stayed like that, for almost two hours until he spoke up as the credits began to roll, your name tumbling out of his lips awkwardly.

"Yeah?" You say, stretching and arching your back as you reclined on the couch.

"Shoot me if this is crazy." Hobie said, rubbing the back of his neck, looking somewhere else in the flat.

You blinked at him, sitting up like someone dumped a bucket of ice water on you.

Was Hobie Brown nervous?

"I know you said when we started this you didn't want anything serious..."

"Hobie...."

He held his hands up to stop you so he could continue, "But hear me out. We get along great, we've got a shitton of great chemistry. You're funny as shit, and a badass..."

You lean forward, tucking your knees underneath you.

"You're fuckin' smart as hell, got no business bein' around me, but--"

"Hobie!" You snap, leaning into his face.

His eyes go wide and lock with yours, his thick, full lips opening and closing as he struggles to find the words to speak.

"Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?"

He awkwardly looked to the side, and you gripped his jaw with your hand, jerking his face to look at yours once more.

"Hobie. Again. Are you ask--"

"Yes."

You weren't sure what knocked you off more, the fact he interrupted you with such a matter-of-fact answer, or the fact you knew he was serious. And Hobie was rarely serious about much in his life.

But this?

You lean back, blinking at him, looking at your hands as you dropped them in your lap.

The seconds tick by at an agonizingly slow pace as you carefully make your decisions, pick your words like a farmer selects the best, ripest crop from the vine.

But at the same time... Maybe the decision had been made for the two of you all along?

A grin slowly creeps up your face and you look back at him. "Fuck it. Why not?"

What was it Miguel said? Canon events, and all that?

[hils79]

Hils Watches Tibetan Sea Flower - Ep 4

Now that I'm back at work I won't be able to watch as quickly as I did yesterday but I think after this week the release schedule is meant to slow down a bit. We'll see how we get on.

Wait, how many years are we talking?

Is this the first time we've seen Wu Yiqiong in a drama?

Ah, we're back to new young Wu Xie again

Ooh a new Wu Sanxing too

So Wu Laolou says he must be cremated within 2 hours of his death, no one should be 30 meters or less away from the cremator and no one must look inside the cremator after he's been cremated. Did he...swallow something?

Oh no I know exactly what this is. Fuck, I'm tearing up already

IS THE STATUE CRYING?? 😭

For some extra knives in the novel Wu Xie runs to this statue when his life is in danget because he feels safer with Xiaoge nearby even if it's just a statue of him

Of course everyone wants to marry Pangzi. And we all know he's doing to drop everything if Wu Xie needs him.

And of course Wu Xie knows that Pangzi would drop everything for him so he pretends that everything is fine. I AM DEEP INTO MY PANGXIE FEELS ALREADY AND THEY HAVEN'T EVEN HAD SCREENTIME YET

Honestly I'm amazed it's taken 4 episodes for Wu Xie to figure out this is a trap. And he didn't even figure it out, Pangzi did and he's not even there.

I love Pangzi so much!

Yep there we go. From 'I'm happy where I am because everyone wants to marry me' to 'stay put I'm coming to get you' in the space of 5 mins

He's so happy that Pangzi is coming for him 🥺

Of course Wu Xie has decided to try and befriend the one woman in this place who looks like she wants to kill him by stepping on him. He has a type and that type is women who could snap him like a twig.

You can definitely tell this is towards the end of Sha Hai era Wu Xie from the way he's meticulously setting traps and cataloguing the fingerprints of suspects. This is a man who has worked hard to wipe out an entire clan to keep Xiaoge safe

Man who frequently has hot women trying to kill him is surprised to learn that a hot woman is trying to kill him

Has he seriously got an internet connection in a monestary at the top of a mountain?

I recognise that voice. And that walk. OMG it's finally happening.

CHEN MINGHAO MY BELOVED!!!! I legit just started crying because I am a huge loser. I HAVE MISSED HIM SO MUCH 😭

LMAO Wu Xie's face! But...um...okay, there's a thing in the novel that I kind of assumed wouldn't make it into the drama but now I'm not so sure...

Oh thank god! So, in the novel they first start off by communicating via Pangzi writing messages on the toilet stall wall in his own shit. When he talked about having diarrhoea I had a brief moment of terror that they were going to go there 😅 NPSS really does like to include gross stuff involving bodily fluids in his novels

God look at him

I'm such an idiot I know who this is and I still gasped when someone with Wu Xie's face showed up unexpectedly. I won't spoil it for those who haven't read the novel

There we go! That's the Wu Xie I've been waiting to see!

Now the two Wu Xies are bickering. Where's my popcorn?

Still not used to this drama actually having a budget. Where are the wonky special effects?

I hope the bickering continues for a while this is fun

Human skin mask my beloved plot device

IS THAT ZHU YILONG'S FACE???

[gavisuntiedboot]

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Most recent part

Warnings: Dubious consent!!! Please don't read if you're uncomfortable with unclear consent. Mentions of crying during intimacy.

Not really a warning, but in this universe, Ferran is single and not the best person. So the warning is major Ferran character assassination? Sorry Ferran girlies <3

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has been enjoying this story so far. I have been waking up to 99+ notifs on tumblr for the last 3 days now and I can't tell y'all how much I appreciate it. So much that I'm typing this next part in the university library (while wearing my Gavi jersey) .

Also I was wondering why engagement was so much higher on part 1 and I found out that the link to part 2 on that post was broken smh.

Pablo Gavi was notoriously hot headed. Everyone knew this - from players to coaches to commentators to the 16 year old girls making TikTok edits of his footage. Everyone knew he had a temper the bubbled over at a moment's notice. Xavi liked to describe him as a spark: volatile, quickly explosive, but just as quick to come back down to a level headed state. This is what made him a good footballer. He could be passionate and powerful on the attack, and then level his emotions to make strategic decisions in a split second.

"Gavi is never nervous when he goes onto the field. He is confident. It is his game."

But Gavi was not himself for the rest of the day. His usual look of disturbance was deepened, eyebrows remaining furrowed together for the entirety of training. The air of boyish charm he always had dissipated, settling instead into an uncomfortable aura that was felt by the rest of the team. Gavi's irritation was widespread. The main target was Pedri, who refused to tell Gavi when he had seen you at a club. It was at Ansu and Balde, who kept you busy for the rest of the afternoon, so you couldn't watch them train. It was at Martin, who was sending so many texts that, in Gavi's opinion, he looked like a desperate little loser that had never felt the touch of a woman.

Gavi's anger did not spare you. It was one of those days where he decided that he just did not trust you. He had them semi-frequently. When he went into your office and his heart started hammering in his chest. Where his skin felt like it was on fire whenever you touched him. When your voice flowed into his ears like honey and clogged his brain and clouded his thoughts. He interpreted these feelings as fight or flight - his gut's way of telling him you were not to be trusted. Why else would he feel like this? The only other time his heart beat so loudly was in the middle of an important match, when he could not afford to make a single mistake. There was something wrong with you, and sooner or later, he would find out what, and these feelings would subside.

Until then, he continued to glare at the wall of the locker room, wet hair dripping onto his forehead, as he waited for Pedri to finish getting changed.

"-and then she started massaging my chest and it was the best I've felt in weeks. Every day I want to kiss the La Liga president for approving women physios. If she keeps stretching me out, I'll be the next Messi."

Gavi's head perked up at hearing this. He knew Ferran was talking about you. It was not the first time Ferran had made some less-than-appropriate comments about you. The first day you had come out to the field to be introduced to the squad, Ferran had been standing next to Gavi and Pedri, letting out a low whistle.

"Look boys, Xavi doesn't want anything to hinder your performance, not even sexual frustration. Look at the present he brought us."

Gavi's face twisted in disgust at the memory. He grabbed his bag and made his way out of the locker room, deciding it was best not to hear Balde's response to the comment. He wished they would focus on their football skills rather than trying to get girls. Gavi had been told multiple times that it might benefit him to get a girl. It's not like he was a blushing virgin - whenever he felt like he needed to be with someone, he went out with the rest of the squad. Pedri and Ferran would be surrounded immediately. They would then pick one of the girls at their feet and ask, "Have you met my friend Gavi?"

When he was at La Masia, it was harder - what woman wants to be brought back to a football academy dorm? But now that he was in the squad and on TV, women were all but crawling into the Uber with him. They came back to his place, begging for him, and he released any frustration he had. This didn't usually take long. Gavi wasn't looking to be a giver or a romantic. When he was finished, he got up, got dressed, handed the girl her clothes, and asking if she needed an Uber to get home. Was it harsh? Probably. The three girls he had done this to had all yelled at him, strings of profanity about his mother leaving their mouths as they walked out the door. But he didn't care. He was 18 and about to be one of the most famous footballers in the world. Like Pedri told him, "Girls will always be there. Focus on your career, and there will always be a line of women waiting to have your kids. Don't create extra stress for yourself."

Pedri executed this well. He was rarely seen out, and whenever he did go out, he could get a girl and be out of the club in a matter of 20 minutes. He was efficient. He didn't let his after hours activities seep into what he did on the field. Ferran was a different story. Some days, Gavi thought Ferran had only stuck with football because he couldn't become a male prostitute. He was always thinking about sex, talking about sex, or hypothesizing how to acquire sex. He was not efficient. He often tried to see how many girls he could take home with him at once. He always came in tired and sore, hangover causing him to move much slower than he should be. He was always making comments about the girls that sat close to the field in Camp Nou, going on about how he could have all of them at once if he wanted. Gavi usually tuned it out. But he couldn't when it came to you. He hated the way Ferran spoke about you. It made his stomach turn and blood boil. Focus on football.

As Gavi stepped into the hallway, he saw you struggling to carry your bag and a large stack of files. He leaned coolly against the wall, bag slung over one shoulder.

"Stealing all the medical records to sell them to the press?"

You looked up at him, arms shaking from the weight of everything in your hands.

"Selling them to Real Madrid. Ancelotti wants to know who has the biggest dick. Come carry these filed before I say yours is the smallest."

Gavi rolled his eyes and took the files from your hands, surprised by how heavy they actually were. He followed you to your car, thinking to himself, 'Does she actually have our dick lengths in our medical records? I don't remember getting mine measure. Is it self reported? No, it can't be everyone would lie.'

"Gavi. Where are you going? This is my car."

Gavi was taken out of his thoughts, realizing he walked too far. He jogged back to you, placing the files in the back of your car. He watched you bend over to arrange the files so they wouldn't slip onto the floor. Gavi found himself glancing at your ass as you leaned over, before swiftly looking away. He did not like you. He had a baseline of respect for you as a young successful professional. Nothing else. You were still sarcastic and loud and treated him like a child. He had no interest in your ass or any other part of you that couldn't help him get better at football.

"Do you need a ride home Gavi?"

"No I'm just waiting for Pedri. The guys were being too rowdy in the locker room and it was giving me a headache."

You closed your car door, sighing with the effort of making sure you didn't damage the files.

"Alright then. I'll see you next Monday." You said over your shoulder, moving to get into your car.

"Next Monday? Why not tomorrow? Where are you going to be for the rest of the week?"

"I have the week off to study for my field training assessment on Friday. If I pass with an 85% or higher, I can start helping the medical staff on the field when one of you gets injured in a game."

"Right. But if the exam is on Friday you should be here for Saturday training."

"I asked for Saturday off. I have a date."

Gavi's head shot up at the statement.

"A date?"

"Yeah. You know Martin? He asked me to go to Cala Bona beach with him. I never really use my vacation days so I thought it would be good. Besides, the team has a match on Thursday. Saturday training will be recovery. I don't need to be there."

Gavi looked at you with the same distressed face he always had.

"Don't you think it's a little desperate of you to take off work for a date?"

You looked up at him seething. He stood with his bag strapped over his shoulder, hands in his pockets, hood up to cover his wet hair. His eyes were stern and cold, the usual fire behind them having died down to leave frigid disgust. You would be lying if you said you didn't know about how the Barca men got rid of their sexual frustrations.

"Oh I'm sorry. Next time, Gavi, I'll be classy like you and have weekly sex in a club bathroom."

You didn't give him a chance to respond before you slammed your door and started your car, the sound of the engine drowning him out. His cheeks were burning with embarrassment. He hated when you did that - when you acted like he was a stupid kid. But in this case he was. You had refrained from getting into a long term relationship during your undergrad in the US because you knew you would be leaving, and you didn't want to drag someone across the world with you. But you were human, and humans love companionship. So you tried your best to find someone who you could love. Or rather, someone who could love you.

University had been difficult for you, and not only in the academic sense. In high school, you only really got close to one boy. His name was Ricardo. He walked in one day in the 9th grade wearing a Barca shirt, and you couldn't contain your excitement. You both got closer throughout your years at school, sharing a passion for medicine and sports. You even planned to go to the US together, so you could have a companion from home. Naturally, rumors swirled that the two of you were a couple, because friendship among teenagers doesn't exist.

In your final year of school, Ricardo confessed that he had been pining after you for the last year. You didn't know what to say. Your gut told you that you didn't like him, but everyone around you said otherwise. Everyone told you that the way he looked at you should make you feel special. That he had been so nice to you for so long that you basically owed it to him to return the feelings. So you went on a date with him (well, if you consider hanging out in his basement watching Netflix a date). Ricardo was not slick with his intentions. He had his arm around you, and pulled you in close within the first 10 minutes of the movie. At minute 30 he started kissing your neck. You tensed up. You had thought about being physical with Ricardo, but only because of all the times your other friends had talked about it. Halfway through the film, your clothes were off. Well, sort of. Your shirt was pushed up, bra pulled down to expose your chest (since he could not figure out the clasps. Both of you had your pants around your ankles.

"Ready baby?" "Yeah, I think so."

Your first time lasted 3 minutes. When he finished he laid on top of you. A tear rolled down your face. Ricardo looked at you, kissing you on the forehead.

"Hey, are you okay."

You nodded, but you didn't mean it. The realization was setting in that you had absolutely no romantic feelings for this boy. Ricardo got a girlfriends soon after, and you spoke to him sporadically before you moved to the US.

In college, you were fun. You were social, drawing people in with the mysterious exotic nature that came from being an international student. This, coupled with the fact that you were close to a lot of the athletes, meant that everyone wanted to get to know you. You got a lot of party invites. You spent almost every weekend at a bar or house or club. Tall gym bros were tripping over each other to serve you drinks. They were eager to grind up on you in a room full of sweaty undergrads, feeling the way your hips swayed to the beat of the Drake songs over the speakers. It always ended the same way. They whispered in your ear for you to go to the bathroom with them. You obliged. The feeling of the sink pressing against your ass was a familiar one. You drove boys crazy, kissing them like you were taking your last breath. You grabbed them by their belt loops, pulling them close into you. You would grab the backs of their necks, playing with the hair on their nape, and let out some (exaggerated) breaths when they kissed your neck. You always ended the encounter the same way. They would ask you, beg you to go back to their rooms, and you would always respond with, "I don't think you'd be able to handle it."

This got you a reputation around school. Some called you "The Pentagon", because it was impossible to penetrate you. Others called you "ice princess", because you could get men so hot and reject them so coldly at the same time. You became the ultimate challenge for every frat boy: who could get you to sleep with them. Men would treat you like a goddess - wine and dine you, buy you presents, confess that you were the woman of their dreams, all for the bragging rights of saying you gave it up to them. Having your emotions played with started to mess you up. You started to believe that no one really could fall in love with the "ice princess". But you weren't going to stop trying.

[Martin Zubimendi]: I can't wait to see you this weekend.

[Martin Zubimendi]: Send your address so I can come pick you up.

[Martin Zubimendi]: A pretty girl like you shouldn't have to drive by herself for an hour.

[Gavi]: Good luck on your exam Doctora

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A/N: Hey y'all, this part is a little shorter, but I wanted to give some background on the characters' mindsets before I start another eventful part of the story.

This part of the story is inspired by the story "7 minutes is never enough" on ao3. It is a Dabi x reader that sent shock waves through my system. So pls go support that author as well!

Thank you so much for all the love on this series. I really appreciate it more than I can say. Always love to hear feedback, so let me know under here or in my asks. Love you all. Will upload the next part when I can.

[juyomiao]

take the chance - ricky

ricky x gn!reader

genre: fluff !!! , best friends to lovers

word count: 791

warnings: ENGLISH ISNT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!! so theres going to be mistakes !!! , alcohol consumption but its barely mentioned , is it considered underage drinking if it'd only be considered as underage drinking in countries where the drinking age is above 18/19 ,, (i feel bad for u if u r from any of those countries fr)

note: first actually written work im kinda # nervous my writing skills r .. definitely writing !! this is cringe cliché and based on a dream i had like a month ago . yes im a lesbian yes i dream abt kissing ricky thats completely normal . (friends dont read this i want to disappear rn as i speak)

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You've been to countless parties since the half of the previous school year when your best friend Ricky became popular out of nowhere. You still don't know where that popularity came from, he's always been good looking, it's not like he had some kind of glow up.

Sometimes you think it's more of a curse than a blessing, with all the times you've been dragged to a party you were not invited to because Ricky, being the introvert he is, refuses to go anywhere without you and, consequently, getting dirty looks from everyone for tagging along and 'leeching' off of Ricky's popularity.

Even now, when people have more or less come to terms with the fact that you two are a package deal, you still despise parties, only appreciating a few things about them, like drinking for free and… nothing else, really.

It's not like Ricky enjoys them either, he'd rather stay home with you and watch some romance drama as you eventually fall asleep with your head on his shoulder. But it's not like he can reject every single invite thrown at him. So you two came to a compromise: one weekend at a party, one weekend at your house.

The boredom of awkwardly standing in a corner as you silently watch yet another drunk couple make out, careless of the countless other people surrounding them, soon gets to you, and you blurt out a question.

"Have you ever kissed someone?"

Ricky's calm expression falters for a second, his eyes widening. He just hopes the dimly lit room is hiding the blush creeping on his cheeks.

He's your best friend, how do you not know?

Well, Ricky is a private person and, even having known him for years, he barely talks about his romantic life, so you've never dared prying into it.

"Of course," he says, after composing himself "You?"

You shake your head, breaking eye contact with him. "And I don't think it's going to happen any time soon," you sigh. At this point, it's a hopeless mission.

Ricky is convinced if it wasn't for the loud music in the background, everyone would be able to hear the cogs turning in his brain as it processes this information.

His best friend – whom he has had a crush on since forever – has never kissed someone.

Ricky looks at you through the corner of his eye, wondering if he should take the chance and possibly change your relationship forever – for the better or the worse, he doesn't know.

To you, though, it just looks like he's side-eyeing you with his usual unreadable expression, and you think you fucked up. You assume he's judging you, because not only are you a complete, bitchless loser, but you brought the conversation up yourself.

"Forget it, I don't know why I said that, sorry, now you probably think I'm weird and…" you start rambling, and to Ricky, that's the cutest thing he has ever seen.

God, he's really that down bad.

Suddenly, an idea pops up in his head.

"Can I kiss you?"

The abrupt question leaves you speechless, your words dying in your mouth as you look at him like he has grown a second head.

"What?" It sounds dumb once you say it, but you genuinely think you misheard him. There's no way Ricky, of all people, would ask you something like that.

Ricky smiles, "I said," he turns with his shoulder leaning on the wall so he can look at you directly "Can I kiss you?"

You blink at him, dumbfounded "Wha- what? Did you… what? Did you actually say that? Am I hearing this right?"

Ricky nods, clearly amused by your reaction

"If this is a joke, it's not funny, like, at all."

"Why would I be joking?" Ricky's expression goes back to deadpan serious, he inches closer to your face "So? Is this a yes?"

You nod slowly, still trying to process what's happening. You shouldn't want this, you shouldn't be so tempted to kiss your best friend. But you are.

Before you can overthink it any further, Ricky closes the space between you two. He's hesitant at first, his lips barely brushing against yours, but when you clumsily try to reciprocate the kiss, he takes the lead.

It doesn't feel special, or magic, or like anything else people have described their first kiss as. It's just two best friends who realized their feelings for each other. And to you, that's perfect.

"So… now what?"

"How about we get out of here and go on a date?" You sigh, shaking your head, "Ricky, it's…" you check your phone "1 AM, where would we even go?"

He seems to genuinely think about it for a solid one or two minutes "McDonald's?"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

note 2 bc i cant stfu : WHY IS THE ENDING SO RUSHED I WANT TO SCREAM.. but i've wanted to post this for like a week now so im posting it anyways , pls leave some feedback if u liked it 🫶🏻

[luminousjellyfishy]

More writing!!!!

This one has been in the works for a while, but it's finally here!

~

Truce Talk

Characters (all Sanses from UTAU/MV): Dream, Ink, Nightmare, Error, and Ccino (in passing)

Word count: 4828

Trigger warnings: Swearing, threats of death, amnesia (kinda?)

Summary: Dream and Ink don't know if it was a mistake to meet Nightmare and Error here in Ccino's café. It's so public and there are so many innocent people that could be killed. What if something goes wrong? This wasn't a good idea. Oh, well that's them walking through the door, so it's too late to turn back now.

~

Both Ink and Dream sat on one side in a booth at Ccino’s café, anxiously awaiting the arrival of their long-time enemies. Dream sat against the wall of their shared side, fidgeting with his hands, seemingly unable to sit still for even five seconds; whereas Ink, sitting near the aisle, was uncharacteristically still.

“Where are they? Are we just early, or are they late? I wouldn’t think the latter would be true since Nightmare had never struck me to be the kind of person to allow himself to be la-”

“Dream. Stop rambling like that, I’m sure it’s fine. Remember, they agreed to meet with us in the first place. They’re probably just running late… or using this time as a distraction for us, so they can go destroy universes while we’re sitting here waiting for them…” Ink interrupted, trying to calm his friend, but trailing off at the end nervously. This thought hadn’t yet occurred to Dream, so hearing it from Ink made him doubt his decisions to be here even more so than he already had been.

Ink’s head fell dramatically to the table, resting in his arms and sighing loudly, drawing a glare from Dream.

“Is being here even the right choice? How do we actually know that they’ll even consider forming a truce?” Dream exhaled deeply, moving from fidgeting with his fingers to playing around with the napkins.

“We don’t. That’s the thing. We can’t know for sure that they’ll consider it, in the same way that they can’t be sure that this isn’t some elaborate plan for an ambush.” Ink shifted his head, looking up from his arms to glance at Dream before closing his eyes and sighing again, clearly bored.

There was no response from Dream, the only noise being the ambient sounds from the other patrons.

The silence between the two continued for a short while until the bell on the front door chimed and all sound in the café ceased as they watched who walked in.

Dream stiffened as he could feel the two negative auras approaching from behind them. He was internally scolding himself for choosing to sit with their backs to the door, having wanted to seem like they trusted the two not to hurt them.

But he didn't trust them. Not in the slightest.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, both Error and Nightmare slid into the booth seat across from them, with Nightmare closer to the wall. Ink finally straightened, feeling apprehensive about having them across from him in such a casual setting where people could be hurt if something went wrong.

“Hey, losers.” Error snickered once they had settled, his face as mocking as it always seemed to be.

“Don’t be rude, Error. What did we talk about?” Nightmare scolded, a quick glare shooting into Error’s direction. In response was the most crude mocking of Nightmare’s words that Error could muster.

Nightmare rolled his eyelight, then said, “My apologies for being so late, I spent some extra time with Error this morning in order to make sure he wouldn’t make such a fool of himself… although it seems my efforts were rather pointless. I hadn’t realized how much time had passed, so once Cross pointed out what time it actually was, we hurried right here.”

“By ‘hurried here’, he means that he took less time than usual to get dressed, go downstairs, get the morons in line, and make sure that no one has any plans to burn the house down while we’re gone.” Error said nonchalantly but joking at the same time, as though this was what happened every day.

Dream’s face must have been one of confusion because Error asked, in a surprisingly genuine tone, “What? Does Blue not try committing arson every time you leave him alone?”

Ink blinked a couple times, eyelights changing colours rapidly, then laughed louder than was actually necessary.

“No?? I can say for a fact that he does not.”

Error didn’t say anything, just scrunched his ‘eyebrows’ and face into a contorted look of confusion, scoffed, and shook his head.

Before their conversation could continue any further, Ccino showed up beside their booth, pen and notepad in hand.

“Hey guys, it’s nice to have you all here! Also, Error I didn’t expect to see you back so soon, but it’s great anyways! Alrighty then, what can I get you guys?” Ccino asked the group, a bright smile on his face.

“Can I have a strawberry cream frappé, please? They’re so good!” Ink exclaimed, his eyelights taking on various shapes in pink and yellow, and slight drool forming in the corner of his mouth.

“Sure thing, extra whipped cream I’m guessing?”

“Of course!”

“A cinnamon apple tea for me, thanks. Oh, but could I also have a chocolate chip cookie?” Dream inquired, eyes lighting up as he thought about the delicious sweetness of the cookies Ccino sold.

“Yeah, we can totally do that!” Ccino replied, smiling softly then turning over to Nightmare, “What about you?”

“Can I just have a regular coffee?” He asked simply, glancing up at Ccino as he spoke.

“Boooooooring.” Ink interjected quickly.

A soft laugh then, “Yup! And what about you, Error?”

“Uhhhhhhhmm, I guess just a hot chocolate..?”

Ccino began to speak, but was quickly interrupted,

“Oh stars, you're so pathetic sometimes. Just tell him that you want a cookie as well, we all know you do.” Nightmare said tauntingly, grinning over at him with a teasing smile.

Error stared at him, mouth agape and eyes wide, a very slight yellow over his cheeks that you would have to strain to see.

Turning his attention to Ccino briefly, he said reluctantly, quietly, and very unlike himself, “… fine… can I have a chocolate cookie as well?”.

Ccino laughed, “Of course! I probably would have brought one over without you asking anyways - I know you love them so much.”

Error nodded, but looked away sheepishly.

With that, Ccino walked away with his notepad back to the counter, humming as he went.

Error’s attention was turned quickly back to Nightmare, giving him the dirtiest glare known to exist.

“You bastard! Why did you say that? Seriously what the actual fuck is wrong with you?!” Error said suddenly to Nightmare, trying his very best not to speak too loudly as to disrupt the other patrons.

Both Ink and Dream giggled at not just the sudden outburst, but the context behind it. Error’s eyes quickly darting over to them; a warning that they should keep quiet. Their giggles were very quickly stifled, and they looked away uncomfortably.

“Oh, Error, be serious. You and I both know that you are physically incapable of going without chocolate for too long. I was just preventing you from making a scene later, whining about how much you want some.” Nightmare replied quickly, a knowing smile on his face as he shook his head and laughed. Error glared at him, seemingly stabbing him with his mind.

“You really like chocolate that much?” Dream inquired with a nervous smile, apparently very intrigued by the thought of Error liking something so simple as chocolate. The attention of the two bickering skeletons were drawn towards the guardian of positivity, having been caught slightly off guard.

“Yeah, so what? Do you have a problem with that?” Error asked, shrugging and staring at Dream, his previous annoyance directed at him now.

“No no no! There’s no problem with it! I just didn’t expect it was all!” Dream replied quickly, raising his hands defensively. Error rolled his eyelights and said nothing.

Silence followed, although it was deafening among the four.

“Soooooooo, since it’s getting way more obvious with every word you two are saying, we hardly actually know each other. Should we do… I don’t know, mini fake introductions? Before we get to the real reason for meeting, anyways.” Ink said suddenly, breaking the silence before it got too awkward. This quickly drew Dream’s attention, since it might be able to give him the opportunity to make new ties with his brother again. The thought made him smile softly, reigniting his hope for this meeting.

“I suppose. It would make sense to know one another before blindly going into something that may or may not be weighted in favour towards certain people.” Nightmare replied, his ending comment being pointed towards Dream with a quick glance that said he was not happy.

Error groaned obnoxiously at the fact that he would have to do more talking, but was quickly interrupted by Nightmare lightly smacking the back of his head.

He quickly turned his head to glare at Nightmare, saying, “You really have no idea just how lucky you are that I’ve been having a good haphephobia day, because if I wasn’t?” a small laugh, “boy, you’d be DONE.”.

Nightmare didn’t even look at him and just laughed, quickly rolling his eyelight in amusement.

“Okkkkk, maybe we should get to the point. I’ll go first because it looks like you two are about to kill each other and Ink will just keep talking forever. So, as you know, I’m Dream. Um, my favourite colour is cerulean, not yellow haha. It’s my favourite because it just looks so peaceful and quiet, so I just really like it a lot. Don’t get me wrong, yellow is a great colour and it’s my second favourite, but cerulean is just so pretty. Also, I looooooove sweets. Lollipops are the best candy and no one will ever change my mind.” Dream started quickly, interrupting Nightmare and Error, and finished with a smile at the thought of candy.

Error stared at him incredulously for a second before asking, “The fuck is cerulean?”.

Dream’s face quickly shifted to one of surprise; Ink looked like he had been personally offended; and Nightmare just looked disappointed, placing his head in his hand and pinching his nasal ridge.

“Error. Please tell me you’re joking.” Ink seemingly begged him, hoping desperately that he did in fact know what cerulean was and was just playing around. He knew deep down that he wasn’t though.

Error just stared at the three of them, trying to prompt an answer.

A sigh from Nightmare, then, “Error, what colour are your tear streaks? Be specific.”

“... Blue??? How much more specific can I be with that?”

“Error-” an exasperated sigh, “Yes, your tears streaks are blue, but specifically they’re cerulean.” Ink explained while shaking his head slowly in disbelief.

“Pffft, if you say so.”

A momentary beat of silence.

“Stars, very well I’ll go next. As you’re all well aware, my name is Nightmare. I enjoy reading in my spare time and have quite the collection of books-”

“That’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one. You’ve got the biggest library I’ve ever seen; the morons have literally gotten lost in there.” Error quickly intercepted.

“Hush, that’s not what we’re speaking of. Anyways, I believe that I’ve done enough to introduce myself, how about you, Error?” Nightmare said, a sly smile creeping up his features.

“Oh, yippee fun. Whatever. Um. I’m Error, and I uh… like… chocolate?? What the fuck else am I supposed to say? You already know that I destroy AUs, so what else? Um? I crochet? Man this sucks, I’m done with this shit.” Error said, stumbling and glitching through his words, and making it more and more evident to Ink and Dream that he doesn’t talk to people much.

“Wait wait wait wait wait. You crochet? You create? I didn’t think you’d ever do something like that!” Ink asked ecstatically, his eyelights taking on the forms of bright yellow stars.

“Yeah? I make scarves and stuff. I don’t know. I make puppets too, like sewing or whatever.” He responded, clearly not having expected this kind of reaction and not knowing how to proceed.

“That is so cool!!! You’ll have to show me sometime! I’d really love to see!” Ink replied eagerly, lighting up even more so than he already had.

There was no real reply from Error, just awkward murmurs as he tucked the lower half of his face into his scarf as his glitches increased substantially.

Dream smiled to himself softly in amusement, never having expected to see this softer side of Error before. To him, Error had always been a powerful monster with little care for who got hurt in his rampages, but seeing him like this now made Dream question his whole perception.

“Anyways! I’m Ink! As you obviously know! I mean, if you didn’t I’d be pretty concerned because I’ve fought you so many times and you totally couldn’t forget me. Right? Anyways, let's not go there. Uhhhhhh, I do a lot of artsy craftsy things, but my medium of choice is oil paint! Granted I do love painting in general and also charcoal! Oh! And even regular pencil! You can get so many different results with so many different things! Man, I don’t know if oil paints are my favourite. There are so many choi-” Dream reached over and grabbed his face and muffled whatever he tried to say next, which was a lot because he didn’t stop.

After a short while, Ink finally realized that what he was saying wasn’t getting across, so he stopped talking. Dream was finally able to remove his hand, however he had the most exasperated look on his face. Nightmare just looked on in amusement, and Error looked like he wasn’t even paying attention, likely listening to the Voices.

“Are you done?” Dream asked him, staring daggers and daring him to keep going.

“... fine.”

“Can we get to the point of this meeting? Or shall we waste more time speaking of art supplies?” Nightmare asked, his amused expression having morphed into boredom.

Dream started, “Oh, yes. Um, yes of cours-”

“Here are your orders, guys! Sorry I took so long, the cats made a mess of the flour, so I had to get that cleaned before any orders could go out.” Ccino said as he stood by their booth, setting down their drinks and cookies.

Nightmare looked over to him, “It’s no problem at all, thank you.”

“Mhm, thanks Ccino.” Error mumbled, still slightly in his own head.

“Thank you! I appreciate it!” Dream chimed in.

A small beat of silence as Ccino prepared to walk away.

A sudden movement, then, “Oh! Uh, me too! Thanks!” Ink said quickly while rubbing his ribs where Dream had elbowed him.

Ccino laughed and then said, “It’s no problem at all, thanks for coming here!”, before walking away.

Nightmare picked up his cup and began sipping, clearly not caring that it was hot. Ink stirred the whipped cream into the rest of his drink and took a large sip, smiling and relishing in the taste. Dream stirred his drink softly, then let it sit to cool for a moment. Error sat still and stared out the window towards the street, his eyelights having taken on a hazy appearance.

Naturally, Nightmare noticed this and set down his drink, turning towards the Destroyer.

“Error? Is everything alright?”

Nothing much changed, just Error’s still hazy eyelights shifted to him, indicating that he could hear him.

A soft sigh, then, “Error I just need you to breathe and to focus. Ok? Try and tell me things that you see.” Nightmare said in a calm, quiet voice that seemed very out of character for him.

Error’s sockets blinked a few times as he looked around, his eyelights gaining some clarity.

“... café booths and cats. A couple of them. Um. Dream and Ink in front of us… why are they here? Why are we at Ccino’s?” Error asked shakily through a glitchier than normal voice, clearly not remembering about the potential truce.

Both Dream and Ink looked on in concern and slight shock. They obviously hadn’t expected this from Error of all people. While they were aware he wasn’t the most… stable monster out there, forgetting something like this in such a short amount of time with seemingly no prompting wasn’t what they had imagined.

“It’s alright, we’re at Ccino’s to discuss a potential truce, do you remember that? They made the offer to us before a fight could break out between our two groups in Underflowers. They proposed we meet them here today so we could consider. Do you remember what we’ve said so far?” Nightmare said, not paying any attention to Dream or Ink, instead calmly petting Error’s head in a soothing manner with a tentacle.

Error took a few deep breaths and blinked a few times in rapid succession before saying, “Um, yeah I think so. It was mini introductions, right? Apparently… um… oh, cerulean is blue, and uh, I couldn’t really come up with things to say and then Ink got all excited because I mentioned that I crochet… um.” He trailed off for a moment, “There was something after, but I’m not sure. Oh, uh Ccino came by with our stuff.” His eyelights darted around, before they found his drink and cookie.

“Yes, exactly. The part that you can’t remember was Ink’s ‘introduction’, he was just rambling about art supplies, it truly wasn’t much.” Nightmare replied, his tentacle still petting the top of his head.

“... Right. Oh, yeah. Fuck.”

An awkward silence passed between them as Error looked between Dream and Ink in what seemed to be a mixture of horror, shame, and embarrassment.

“Are you alright?” Dream asked quietly, concern written all over his features.

Error stiffened, and avoided looking at Dream, “Yeah. I’m fine. It just happens every now and then. It’s whatever. Can we get back to the point?”

A small beat of silence, before Ink said that they probably should.

No one spoke.

“Oh for fucks sake. Fine, I’ll start us off. What do you expect from us for this truce? We can’t just stop what we do because it would disrupt the balance into chaos, so what do you want?” Error snapped, clearly in a rather foul mood after what had just occurred.

Ink winced before hesitantly asking, “What would happen exactly if you stopped destroying? I’m just curious.”

A quick roll of his eyes before he said, “Like I just said, it would cause chaos. For our balance, it could potentially be kept within the quarter ranges instead of perfectly balanced at half… but that’s not ideal. If I stopped destroying, the Multiverse would fill and just keep filling with nothing to keep it in check.”

The only response he got from Ink was question-mark shaped eyelights.

“Ugh, alright think about it like this. Imagine a balloon.”

“What? A balloon? That’s random.”

“No, it isn’t, shut up. Imagine you have this balloon and you’re pumping air into it. You keep pumping in more and more air, so what happens?”

A thoughtful expression crossed Ink’s face before once again settling on confusion.

“It pops?” He asked, clearly not understanding what revelation Dream had just come to that he should have also had.

“Yes, exactly… What aren’t you getting?” Error said, not understanding what was so difficult to comprehend with his very simple analogy.

“You threw me off with balloons. All I’m imagining is a room full of giant balloons now.” He stated simply.

Error’s head fell to the table and he groaned in annoyance.

“Why are you like this? The balloon represents the Multiverse. The air is the AUs. Too many AUs and they’ll push against each other, inevitably causing the collapse of it all.” He explained with his skull still resting on top of the table, clearly tired of this interaction.

There was silence as Ink took this in. Once the information finally seemed to sink in, he abruptly got up from the table and made it a whole two steps to the washroom before he puked.

There were multiple cries of disgust and outrage as Ink vomited his namesake onto the floor, not having been able to cope with the information that he should have been very aware of.

Ccino came over with a mop quickly after Ink began calming down, and offered a soothing pat on the back before guiding Ink back to the booth. He began cleaning up the mess before any of the cats got the idea of trying to lick it.

“Are you alright?” Nightmare asked, his ‘eyebrows’ scrunching in what could have been concern, confusion, or disgust.

A nervous laugh came from Ink before trailing off into silence.

“... You know what? Um, actually. No. Not really. I didn’t realize that it was even like that. Honestly, I didn’t think it was infinite, but I really didn’t think that it would collapse. I just thought that… I don’t know, that maybe any potential creations would just be put on a waitlist or something instead of entering the Multiverse.” Ink said very shakily and unsure. His eyelights were a purple broken heart and a blue inverted triangle.

“Don’t you ever feel extra lethargic at some points? Like you don’t want to move and if you do it almost hurts?” Error asked him, looking extremely unimpressed with the entire conversation so far.

“Well, yeah obviously. Those are the days when you have your mega destroying sprees. I always feel bad because I’m way too tired to even try stopping you.” He replied, ashamed with this admittance.

“You do know that you don’t feel like that because I’m destroying, right? You feel like that because the Multiverse is too full at that time. Making you that exhausted is its way of coping with the over-abundance of AUs by having its Protector too tired to do their job. By not allowing you to protect, it lets me destroy a shit-ton of those anomalies.” Error said as he tried getting his point across.

Dream had taken to fiddling with the napkins again and Nightmare was gazing around at the other customers, taking in their various emotions.

“Wait hold up, so you’re actively destroying when you feel that tired? Wow ok I definitely underestimated yo-”

Error groaned as he cut him off, “No, you fucking moron. I don’t get tired when it’s too full, that would be stupid. I get tired when it’s too empty. It sucks because trust me, I’ve tried working through it. I’ve tried to destroy those stupid glitches even though I’m exhausted.” A sharp laugh, “I’ve only gotten to that point once though, and it really sucked. I eventually got so tired that even just moving my phalanges caused me to crash. Yeah… that sucked big time.”

“Anyways, for the sake of this whole…” A dismissive wave of his hand, “Truce thing. You should avoid encouraging the Creators to create when it’s verging towards full, and I’ll try and keep it balanced instead of on the emptier side like I usually do.” Error said quickly before falling quiet to pick up his drink.

The four were silent for a while, taking some time to enjoy their cooled beverages and cookies.

Finally, it was Dream to break the silence, “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but do you forget things like that oft-”

Error let out a sharp laugh before saying, “I am not talking about this with you. Not now, and likely not ever.”

Silence again.

It was Dream again to speak first saying, “Alrighty then... Well, brother, I’m sure that you’re aware of our balance to maintain and that you've purposefully spread Negativity despite that?”

Nightmare looked away sharply before slightly nodding.

A soft sigh, then, “Ok well, would you be open to maybe… not doing that? I understand that you believe that there should be a surplus of Negativity, but there really shouldn’t b-”

“Yeah, I mean think of when all the apples corrupted! All the villagers got way pissier than normal because of the surplus of Negativity in the AU!” Ink exclaimed, proud of himself for this amazing and wonderful realization that he thought would be a great idea to say aloud.

Unsurprisingly, both Nightmare and Dream stiffened.

“Um, wait, should I have not said that? I feel like I shouldn’t have said that…” Ink said, trailing off nervously and looking between the twins with light blue question mark eyelights.

“It’s fine, you’re correct in saying that. I hadn’t put the two together, but having it pointed out to me is… troubling. To say the least.” Nightmare said slowly, unsure of himself at this moment.

Nightmare took a deep breath and sighed, clearly not happy with what he was about to say.

“In my spare time, I’ve been keeping detailed reports on the emotional balances within the Universes. By doing so, I can track which ones are suitable for my Negativity intake and which ones need more of a… push. In the event of a truce, then I’ll only alter the Negativity cores… Oh, Ink, cores are the AUs made with a certain emotional trait as their primary factors, like Horrortale or Underfell for Negativity and Haventale or Underswap for Positivity.”

Ink gave a thumbs up in appreciation.

“As I was saying, I’ll refrain from touching the Positivity cores as much as I can and only alter them if the balances begin to tip.” A quick beat of contemplation on Nightmare’s part before continuing, “Actually, Dream. I believe that it would be wise regardless of a truce or not for you to make your own records as well.”

Dream startled, then said, “Oh, actually I have kept some… in a way. Not in the same way that you’re describing, but more so in that I was keeping track of which AUs you and your group attacked. It would let me know where I needed to visit to imbue more Positivity.”

“Is that what you’re always writing about whenever we get back from fighting?!” Ink exclaimed far too loudly, drawing the attention of the other patrons.

A sigh, then, “Yes, Ink. I’ve told you this before. Several times. Whenever you ask. Which is every time you see me writing them.”

“Oh.”

“Ughhh, I’m so bored. What would we get out of this if we agreed? Like yes. I know there are balances to be upheld but come onnnnn, we need some sort of incentive!” Error said out of nowhere, groaning loudly to convey his annoyance and boredom.

“More incentive than the Multiverse not collapsing??” Ink asked incredulously.

“Did I stutter?”

“Ughhhh, man I don’t know! Uhh, how about making me happy? That seems like a great reason!”

Error just squinted his eyes and shook his head in sheer confusion, “Why would I do anything for that sake? That’s so stupid.”

“If you agree to the truce, you’ll be able to destroy the crowding Universes without interference from Ink. You already understand that you’re physically incapable of destroying them all, so all you would need to agree to is to refrain from tipping the balance too far from the center. For the Universes that you do destroy, then I can assure you that neither Ink, Blue, or myself will try to stop you.” Dream cut in, a slightly exasperated look on his face.

Error seemed to contemplate this for a moment, but remained silent.

“As for you, brother, this truce will help keep your gang members safe from unnecessary harm. I know you put on the face of being uncaring and cold, but I see the way you act around and protect them. It will also give you more time to yourself.”

Nightmare refused to make eye contact with the other, staring down at the table and his tentacles curling behind him.

“Damn those sound way better than just making me happy.”

Dream groaned and put his head in his hands.

A deep sigh from Error, then, “Alright. I’ll accept this stupid ass truce.”

“As will I.” Nightmare grumbled, tentacles still curled tightly behind himself.

“But listen, the second Ink tries getting in my way again, it’s done. Also, if he’s ever annoying, I will kill him. Not that it makes a difference… soulless bastard just comes back.” Error said curtly and glaring at Ink.

In response, Ink just giggled and said, “Yup! That’s meee!”

“Alright, I suppose that’s fair. Just no unnecessary torture, if you’re going to kill him, get it over with quickly.” Dream said as he shook his head, never having expected to be condoning Ink’s death in this manner.

“A similar rule applies to you, Dream. If you interfere with my Negativity cores in any way, the truce is off. Just as you’re expected to follow these conditions, Error and I will uphold our end of the deal by refraining from tipping the balances unnecessarily.” Nightmare added, clearly unhappy with the whole ordeal, but accepting on behalf of some… external factors.

“Of course, I would expect nothing less.” Dream looked around the table, “So it’s agreed?” He asked, smiling softly.

Nightmare winced as his brother’s positive aura grew as the potential future where they could all get along seemed to be drawing nearer and nearer.

“Yup!”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

[xpocketeer]

V.  Proximity Panic and Canine Chaos in the Kitchen

Medicine Pocket wakes slowly, eyes fluttering open, only to find Sonetto standing beside their bed. They squint up at her, frowning.

“Huh?” they mumble, voice rough from sleep.

Sonetto hums, her expression calm and unruffled as always. “We were supposed to wake you up before noon, but X insisted we leave you be.”

“Before noon?” Medicine Pocket rubs at their eyes, trying to shake off the drowsiness. “So that means… it’s afternoon now?”

Sonetto’s lips twitch in a slight smile. “Late afternoon. Around three.”

Medicine Pocket jolts, half falling out of bed. “Three?! I slept that long? Damn it!”

Sonetto tilts her head slightly. “You don’t sleep much, do you, Researcher Medicine Pocket?”

“Of course not! Sleep is for losers!” they snap, but it’s clear that the grumpiness is already settling in. They shoot out of bed, scowling. “What do you think I am? Some kind of… lazy sloth?” They huff, feeling their cheeks flush as last night’s memories start drifting back—the quiet conversation with X, the rare openness they’d somehow let slip out. Ugh. The less said about that, the better.

As they pull on their boots, fastening the buckles with quick, impatient movements, they glance around the room and frown. Right… they’re still in Vertin’s stupid magical suitcase, not in the comfort of their lab. No way this was just a dream, not with how real everything feels—especially the thought of X somewhere out there. That whole talk last night… Why had they even allowed themself to go there? Ridiculous.

Sonetto, unfazed by the rambling, merely waits as Medicine Pocket storms off to the bathroom, barefooted once more. They splash water on their face, rubbing furiously at their cheeks, and fix their hair in its usual, messy style. Something they dub anarchy; a state of disorder. Gotta be equivalent to their outer (and inner) persona, right? What they do is twist their hair back into a loose knot, securing it with their trusty pair of scissors, the way one might use a pair of chopsticks, and clip a small device into their hair as a makeshift way of keeping it from falling into their eyes. There. The mirror stares back, and they pull a satirical smile, making a face at their own reflection.

By the time they stomp back into the room, Sonetto has already left, leaving a message about how the crew would meet them outside. Great, they think, sarcastically. They’re probably starting the evaluations without them. Lovely.

Grumbling all the way, they grab their satchel and stomp into their boots, tugging at the buckles with frustration. They’re barely out the door before they start fuming. “Just letting me rot like a corpse in that stupid bed—honestly, who thinks leaving someone to sleep is a good idea?”

Lost in their indignation, Medicine Pocket rounds the corner into the main sitting area and freezes. There, in the middle of the living room, X is laughing and running around with a group of the younger arcanists. He’s dodging and weaving through a mess of giggling kids, clearly having a… blast? The kids are shrieking with delight as X playfully ducks, almost letting one of them catch him before dashing away again.

Medicine Pocket finds themself utterly fixated on the scene, the irritation temporarily slipping away. This kid, they take in, almost in awe. What is he doing? For a moment, they stand there, not realizing they’re practically staring, their mind fogging up with a strange, unsettling…what? Don’t tell them this is what most people call affection? Are they getting attached??

They opt to decipher it, to decode what this weird feeling means—

That is, until a familiar, dry voice pulls them back to reality.

“Well, look who decided to show up.” Mesmer Jr. stands a few feet away, arms folded as she leans against the wall, eyebrows raised in exaggerated amusement.

Medicine Pocket blinks, their face immediately morphing into a distasteful grimace. “And look who’s still here, taking up valuable space like an indoor potted plant.”

The girl raises her eyebrows, unimpressed. “Indoor potted plant? Please. You don’t have to be jealous just because I’m actually productive—”

“Oh, spare me,” Medicine Pocket quickly cuts her off with a dismissive stroke of their wrist. “If you call standing around like a smug weed productive, then congratulations, Mesmer. You’re Laplace’s top horticulturist.” They glance over their shoulder, noticing X glancing their way as he finally catches sight of them. But that only fuels their sarcasm further. “I bet you’d wilt if someone even whispered the word responsibility in your general direction.”

“Interesting words from someone who just spent half the day sleeping,” Mesmer replies, her smirk never fading. “Maybe they shouldn’t have let you off so easily. Three in the afternoon, Medicine Pocket? Really?”

Medicine Pocket rolls their eyes. “Excuse me for needing to recover from the sheer torture of being stuck in this… this museum of domesticity you all seem so fond of.” But as they say this, they’re aware of X, who’s stopped running around and is now giving them a smile from across the room.

“Medpoc!” he calls out cheerily, wiping a bit of sweat off his brow as he jogs over, his face bright. “You’re finally up!”

“Finally up, he says…” Medicine Pocket huffs, trying to maintain their annoyance even as their eyes linger on the boy. “Yeah, well, maybe I would’ve been up sooner if someone had actually had the decency to wake me instead of letting me corrode.”

X chuckles, clearly unbothered by the bristly tone. “We just figured you needed the rest,” he says, voice softening. “Besides, you looked so peaceful sleeping.”

“Peaceful?” Medicine Pocket raises an eyebrow, highly skeptical. “You’re hallucinating. I don’t do peaceful.”

Mesmer snorts in the background. “I don’t know, Medicine Pocket. You seemed pretty cozy in that bed. Probably dreaming about funds.”

Medicine Pocket shoots her a withering look. “Oh, go count ceiling tiles or something, Mesmer.”

X lets out a laugh, his eyes twinkling with it. “Glad to see you’re… well, back to your usual self.”

Medicine Pocket gives a mock sigh, rolling their eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’m back, I’m grumpy, and I’m ready to bite someone’s head off if you’re all still playing house in this witless suitcase.”

…But as X stands there, smiling at them with that irritatingly soft expression, Medicine Pocket can feel the last shreds of their chagrin melting away. Fine, they think grudgingly. I’ll stay. But only because they’d probably mess up this whole thing without me.

˗ˏˋ꒰𖦹｡🧪⋆°✰꒱ ˎˊ˗

Vertin gestures for the group to follow her into the suitcase’s kitchen after a while—a surprisingly spacious and polished room with gleaming countertops, polished wood cabinets, and even a large dining table. Medicine Pocket looks around, unimpressed but mildly curious.

“Right,” Sonetto says, clapping her hands together, stepping up to the counters with the draft of someone who knows what she’s doing. “We’ll make something simple for dinner. It’ll be quick if everyone pitches in.”

This makes Medicine Pocket click their tongue, crossing their arms, defensively. “Cooking? Not my style. Give me a machine to break down, and I’ll get somewhere, but don’t expect me to know a spatula from a scalpel.”

Mesmer rolls her eyes. “Honestly, Medicine Pocket, it’s not rocket science. It’s dinner. Try not to break anything.”

Medicine Pocket opens their mouth to retort, but their comeback is quickly interrupted by a small hand tugging on their sleeve. They glance down to see one of the younger arcanists looking up at them with wide, googly eyes. Huh. Creepy fellow.

“So, you really are a scientist,” the kid states, dreamily, grinning. “Like a real scientist who does, like, experiments and stuff, yeah?”

Oh.

Medicine Pocket narrows their eyes, giving a low, threatening growl. “Yeah… A real one, alright. …And I’ll experiment on you if you don’t get out of my way.”

The kid just giggles, as if they’d heard the funniest joke ever, and grabs their other sleeve. “Can I help you with your experiments? Pleeease? Pretty pleaseee?”

Medicine Pocket lets out a groan, making overripe biting motions at the kid. “Back off, or I’ll chew your head off!” They snap their teeth in the air, making a ferocious face, but the kid only giggles louder, clearly thrilled by them, seeing their ultimatum as mere antics.

Another kid pipes up from behind them. “Yeah, Medicine Pocket! Experiment on me next!” The little mob closes in, chattering and laughing, tugging at Medicine Pocket’s lab coat as they eagerly demand attention.

Medicine Pocket throws up their hands, looking over at X with an expression somewhere between panic and exasperation. “X! Get these ankle-biters off me before I go feral.”

X, watching the scene with his hands on his knees and a huge grin, lets out a laugh. “I don’t know, Medpoc… looks like you’re the kids’ favorite.”

“Ugh,” Medicine Pocket mutters, swatting away another small hand. “Favorite? I didn’t sign up for this! These kids are like… like gnats. Persistent gnats.”

One of the kids laughs and pokes Medicine Pocket’s cheek. “But you’re so funny, Medpoc!”

Medicine Pocket snarls playfully, making another snapping motion. “Funny? Ha! Keep saying that, and I’ll be showing you my canine teeth up close.”

X chuckles, looking utterly amused as he keeps his gaze glued at the tableau, as well as Medicine Pocket’s failed attempts to shoo the kids away. It’s not until one of the bolder arcanists gets a bit too close, tugging on the scissors stuck in Medicine Pocket’s hair, that the boy finally steps in.

The sight has them gasping, how X’s naturally happy eyes darken as he shakes his head. “Nah-uh…” he utters lowly. “That’s enough, okay?”

The kid stops, looking sheepish as they release Medicine Pocket’s hair and mumble an embarrassed, “Whoops, sorry…”

Swallowing for some reason, albeit very subtly, Medicine Pocket huffs, folding their arms against their chest, mumbling, “Yeah, that’s right, listen to X, the voice of reason.”

X’s lips part, Medicine Pocket awaiting what he must want to say to that, but the moment is cut short when Sonetto clears her throat, looking over her shoulder from where she’s chopping vegetables. “Researcher Medicine Pocket, if you’re done fending off your little fan club, you could make yourself useful by handing me those carrots.”

Medicine Pocket raises a skeptical eyebrow, the previous encounter already leaving their system. At least, for now. “Carrots? What do I look like, a rabbit?”

“Just pass them over please,” Sonetto sighs, bemused. “I’m sure even you can handle that.”

Grumbling, Medicine Pocket grabs the carrots, tossing them onto the counter next to her. “There. Don’t say I never helped you.”

While Sonetto works efficiently, Mesmer has set herself up beside a stove burner, stirring a pot with a look of concentration. Medicine Pocket can’t help but smirk. “Oh, look at you, Mesmer. Playing chef. I didn’t know stirring soup was such an art form.”

Mesmer rolls her eyes but smirks back. “I’m sure this is just too highbrow for a chaotic lab rat like you to understand.”

“Cooking. It’s… so important,” Medicine Pocket mutters sarcastically, rolling their eyes. “I’d much rather be tearing into a dog chew toy right now than standing around here doing… household things.”

They’re answered by coruscating laughter, causing their peeve to simmer. And they’re just about to counter some more when they catch X raising his hands in their peripherals. He conjures a little teacup from thin air, followed by a steaming stream of tea, filling it right up. He holds it out to Medicine Pocket with a soft smile.

“Here,” he says gently, “thought you could use a little pick-me-up.”

Medicine Pocket stares at the cup. Odd. Odd that one, X is doing this out of nowhere, and two, their scowl is slowly fading as they reluctantly accept the offered cup. They sip with a quiet grumble, “Thanks… I guess,” though the warmth of the tea seems to soften their usual—

No. They can practically feel their brows unknotting…

And they hear X chuckle softly, eyes twinkling. “You’re welcome.”

˗ˏˋ꒰𖦹｡🧪⋆°✰꒱ ˎˊ˗

With Sonetto and Mesmer handling most of the cooking, Medicine Pocket finds themself standing around in the kitchen, surrounded by the lawless dynamism of the younger arcanists, who keep darting around them, hooting and poking at their lab coat once again. They grunt under their breath because it just doesn’t stop, does it? This thing right here, fending off small hands attempting to tug at their sleeves.

“Back off, you little… puppies!” Medicine Pocket hisses, snapping their teeth that can only be classified as a playful snarl. “No boundaries, you tiny gremlins, honestly!” They make even nastier mock-biting motions, sending the kids into… fits of delighted laughter as they scamper around. The rascals!

From the pot she’s stirring, Mesmer coos, “Look at you, Medicine Pocket—being all soft and cuddly.”

“Soft?” Medicine Pocket guffaws, cocking a brow in alarm. “If you mean rabid and barely tolerating you all, then sure, I’m soft!”

X snickers somewhere, apparently watching them fail to chase off yet another kid who’s clearly taken with them. “They’re just excited to see you, Medpoc,” the boy comments, tone considerate. “They like you.”

Medicine Pocket’s face flushes, faintly so, as they glare in return. “They’re like overgrown puppies—clingy, slimy, and way too interested in personal space,” they whine, horrified by what comes next—

The arcanists, who take it upon themselves to mimic everything they say. “Puppies!” one little girl cries, throwing her arms around their leg. “Woof!”

They look down, appalled. “That’s enough, you mutts!” they shriek, pointing at the girl. “I’ll have you tossed into the ocean if you don’t let go!”

Leaning against the counter and sipping from his teacup, X bursts into laughter. “You’re really good with them, Medpoc.”

“Oh, shut it, Alphabet Boy,” Medicine Pocket retorts, trying to look cross, though the faint warmth in their eyes conceivably gives them away. Tch. “If they keep at it, they’ll be my next experiments.”

“Right,” Mesmer says with a grin, rolling her eyes. “Let me guess: experimental puppy muzzles, coming right up?”

“Ha-ha! Funny.” Medicine Pocket makes a face at her before lightly nudging one of the arcanists away with their foot, whispering something colorful under their breath as the kids erupt in giggles.

When the meal comes together, they all gather around the large dining table to eat, a lively spread of soup, roast vegetables, bread, and other dishes filling the air with toasty scents. Medicine Pocket finds a seat, only for the younger Arcanists to immediately cluster around them, squabbling over who gets to sit nearest. It’s all they can do not to roll their eyes, but… a tiny part of them is starting to feel strangely fond of this harebrained setup. These people, this noise, these ‘puppies’…

As they start eating, Vertin clears her throat to get their attention, smiling at Medicine Pocket as she starts filling them in.

“Researcher Medicine Pocket, just to catch you up,” the Timekeeper begins, “we actually wrapped up the evaluations while you were asleep.”

Medicine Pocket’s fork pauses mid-air. “Wait… really?” They look around, raising an eyebrow. “So… we’re done?”

“Yep,” Sonetto affirms. “Finished it up just before dinner. You’re free to leave the suitcase after tonight.”

“Leave?” Medicine Pocket asks aloud, a strange stab of reluctance surfacing. Just when things were getting interesting in here, they think, especially glancing toward X, who’s grinning over a story Mesmer is telling. “So… that’s it, huh?”

Vertin nods. “That’s it. Unless, of course, you’d like to join us again for these assignments.”

Medicine Pocket scoffs, rolling their eyes. “Ha! As if I’d willingly put myself through this circus again…”

But before they can say any more, the door to the kitchen swings open with a loud creak, and a familiar voice breaks through the laughter.

“Oi oi! How are you all doing?” It’s Regulus, accent bright and full of energy as she strides in, followed by Mr. APPLe, hovering behind her like an eccentric floating chaperone. But she isn’t alone—trailing behind her is a figure Medicine Pocket recognizes immediately: Oliver Fog.

A flash of ash-gray in a white lab coat dashes at the corner of their eye, and then X is beaming brightly. “Regulus! And Oliver!”

Oliver Fog gives a calm, easy smile as he steps forward, looking every bit the composed gentleman in his trench coat and top hat. But Medicine Pocket notices the quick flick of his eyes, assessing, as they land on them. The look lasts only a second, but it’s clear as day—Oliver Fog knows exactly who they are. And judging by the slight twitch of his mouth, he seems to find the sight of Medicine Pocket… intriguing.

Well, that’s just. Great. Just what they needed—Fog Boy, up close and personal.

Oblivious to the silent stare-off, as expected, X quickly jumps in, stepping between them. “Oliver, I’d like you to meet Medicine Pocket! Medpoc, this is Oliver Fog,” he chirps, looking at both of them with pure enthusiasm, adding, “Two of the best people I know!”

Two… of the best? Medicine Pocket raises an eyebrow, barely disguising their irritation. “I’ve… heard of him.”

“Likewise,” Oliver says, inclining his head with a polite nod. His gaze hovers over Medicine Pocket, deviant. “Medicine Pocket, Laplace’s… infamous scientist, I believe?”

And just like that, their day is ruined. “And you’re the Foundation’s prized fog-cleaner, aren’t you?” they retort, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Ever the peacemaker type, X simply laughs. “Medpoc, Oliver’s more than that—he’s practically a legend with the work he’s done. And Oliver, Medpoc’s been working on all sorts of groundbreaking things in Laplace. The picrasma candies, for one!”

Oliver hums, an amused glint in his eye as he studies Medicine Pocket. “Oh, I’m aware,” he says smoothly. “Very aware, in fact.”

“Are you now?” Medicine Pocket folds their arms, brooding. Who does this Fog Boy think he is, trying to size me up?

Just then, Regulus plops down in an empty chair between them and X, impervious to the battle of glares. She grins, prattling on cheerfully, nudging Medicine Pocket. “Well, this is one weird crowd, I’ll say that much. Good to see you in a group for once, mate.”

Medicine Pocket huffs, shrugging her off. “Don’t get used to it. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t absolutely necessary.”

Regulus laughs, tossing them a wider grin. “Sure, sure. Just admitting you like the company would be too much to handle, eh?”

They grumble under their breath, but can’t help sneaking a glance at X, who’s still chatting animatedly with that boy.

Oliver, who catches Medicine Pocket’s gaze, giving them a faintly amused smile as if he’s caught onto something. He leans back in his chair, clearly comfortable with X’s attention and unbothered by Medicine Pocket’s death stare. It only grates on them further.

Meanwhile, Mesmer Jr., perched across from them, clears her throat. “Jealous, Medicine Pocket?”

And that—that very term. Medicine Pocket snaps their gaze to her, nearly toppling over. “Huh? Of that thing? Pardon me. He’s barely worth noticing.”

“Is that so, Researcher Medicine Pocket?” Vertin suddenly pipes up, just loud enough for them to pick up. The Timekeeper scrutinizes them with a pair of quizzing eyes.

Medicine Pocket clenches their jaw, scooting away. “Yes, that’s so,” they mutter. But the words feel hollow even to themself as they glimpse back at X, who’s laughing at something Oliver just said. X’s eyes are shining, the smile on his face brighter than ever, and Medicine Pocket feels an unconventional, tight spasm in their chest.

Regulus, blissfully unaware, leans over to X with a smirk. “Quite the crowd tonight, isn’t it? And here I thought you only had foggy friends, X.”

X chuckles, looking warmly at everyone, including Medicine Pocket, who he hasn’t quite noticed (most definitely) is stewing in their seat. “It’s just nice to have everyone together, you know?”

Medicine Pocket snorts. “Nice.” Right. How ‘nice’ to be stuck here, forced to watch Oliver Fog bask in X’s attention. Their friend.

As the dinner continues, the laughter and chatter grow, but Medicine Pocket sits there, arms folded, eyes narrowed on the newcomer, feeling that freakish denseness augment. Every time X laughs, it sends a prickle of irritation through them, and they can’t help but imagine all the ways they could interrupt this little reunion. But all they can do is sit and sulk, trying to shake the creeping realization that, maybe… they’re feeling more than just annoyance.

The post-dinner gathering in the living area is as snug as a bug, the air buzzing with a pleasant, unabating residue from the meal. Sonetto sits with her hands folded primly in her lap, graciously accepting compliments for her cooking.

“Sonetto, that roast was divine,” Vertin says with a satisfied sigh, leaning back in her chair. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

“It was nothing,” Sonetto replies modestly, brushing a stray strand of ginger hair from her face, cheeks all pink. “Just simple recipes, really.”

“Simple but effective,” X chimes in, resplendently. “I haven’t eaten that well in a while.”

“Oh, sure,” Mesmer interjects, leaning lazily against the arm of the couch. “But let’s not forget the soup was my doing.”

Perched stiffly on the edge of another seat, Medicine Pocket cocks an eyebrow. “Your soup? Yeah, the soup was… passable.” They tap their fingers against their knee. “If we’re talking about edible slop.”

Mesmer shoots them a tired glare. “Thanks, Medicine Pocket. Your feedback is always appreciated.”

“Anytime,” Medicine Pocket replies with a self-satisfied smile. “I like to keep things honest. Especially when the truth is funny.”

The others chuckle, and X stifles a giggle beside Mesmer, clearly enjoying the exchange. Medicine Pocket flicks a glance his way, their chest doing that stupid squinching thing again when he smiles. Ugh.

On the one hand, Oliver Fog sits calmly on a nearby armchair, twirling his pocket watch absently. “Well, it was a fine meal,” he puts in smoothly, nodding at Sonetto. “I’d say you have the makings of a true chef, Sonetto.”

“Oh, stop,” Sonetto replies with her hands waving dismissively.

Medicine Pocket’s gaze leaves Oliver for X, who’s now chatting animatedly with him, their voices overlapping. Medicine Pocket tries not to focus on it, but their ears twitch at how X snickers at something Oliver says. It’s not like it’s a big deal—or that this should be news to them. They’re friends. Of course, they are. X is someone who easily befriends people, and that’s why Medicine Pocket has taken a liking to him, right? And when they say a liking, they mean… a friendly liking. Just friends, they remind themself, frowning. They have no reason to get indignant at this kind of circumstance. None at all.

And yet, something beyond interpretation tears at their insides, unnamed.

As the conversations continue, Medicine Pocket fidgets, feeling the heaviness of the room press down on them. They don’t even realize that X has been inching closer—chatting casually, only quite noticing it little by little once he’s slowly closed the gap between them. When X sits down beside them, driving them to snap out of their spiral and jolt slightly when the boy’s shoulder almost brushes theirs.

Their body goes rigid, their mind serpentining into mayhem. Proximity—too close—why is he sitting here?

X doesn’t notice their inner panic, smiling at them like nothing’s wrong. “Hey, Medpoc,” he says softly. “Enjoying yourself?”

Medicine Pocket doesn’t answer right away. Their chest strains, the unfamiliar sensation of their personal space being gently invaded completely throwing them off. But, why?

“I—uh…” They look from left to right, at a loss for words.

As if their body has a mind of its own, it promptly stands, nearly knocking over the little table beside it. Everyone in the room looks up, startled.

“I think… it’s time for me to head back to Laplace,” they blurt, brushing their coat down as if smoothing imaginary wrinkles. “Yep. I just remembered I’ve got… uh, loads of unfinished reports to submit to Bucket Head by tomorrow.”

“Bucket Head?” Mesmer echoes, raising an eyebrow.

“Madam Lucy,” Medicine Pocket clarifies quickly.

The room erupts in muffled laughter, Mesmer chortling openly while Sonetto covers her mouth. Even Vertin cracks a small smile. Everyone seems to find the nickname hilarious.

Everyone except one.

As Medicine Pocket grabs their things, they catch X’s expression—soft and quiet, his gaze following them like a gentle weight. His smile has faded, replaced by a glint of something harder to place. Sadness? Disappointment? Medicine Pocket doesn’t know, and they don’t want to figure it out.

They mutter something incoherent even to them, ignoring X’s stare as they head toward the door. Their body screams at them to flee, and for once, they listen, leaving behind the joyous convulsions, the warmth, and the persistent, heavy gaze of a boy they can’t afford to think about.

˗ˏˋ꒰𖦹｡🧪⋆°✰꒱ ˎˊ˗

Medicine Pocket storms through the main hall of Laplace, their boots clicking sharply against the polished floors. The chaos of the place is a comforting din—the buzz of enginery, the whirl of automated carts zipping by with trays of lab samples, the murmur of hurried conversations between staff clutching clipboards. Holographic screens blink overhead, displaying intricate equations and arcane projections, while mechanical arms work tirelessly in glass enclosures, assembling something far too advanced for most to understand. Laplace buzzes with life and science, a cathedral to human ingenuity and arcanum combined. This is home, not that infernal suitcase.

Taking a deep breath, Medicine Pocket feels their pulse slow slightly. “Finally,” they hiss under their breath, running a hand through their messy hair. “Back where I belong.”

They head toward the elevators, feeling the familiar flow of the place seep back into their skin. As the doors slide open, they step inside and punch the button for their lab. It’s only when they exit on their floor and approach the door that they see it—the battered wooden sign hanging on the handle: KEEP OUT.

The sight stops them in their tracks. The sign swings slightly, revealing deep bite marks and scratches across the surface. Medicine Pocket frowns, folding their arms. Of course, it’s still here. It’s been here forever. But their ogling remains longer than they’d like. Why does that kid—X—get to ignore it?

They scowl this time, shaking their head. “Because I let him,” they tell themself, tenor dripping with disdain. Because I’m an idiot who invites him in. What am I, some compassionate mutt now? Since when?

Their thoughts are interrupted by a voice. “Oh, Researcher Medicine Pocket, you’re back.”

Medicine Pocket turns to see Trina, one of their colleagues, peeking out from the lab door. Trina’s long white coat is uncharacteristically spotless, her hair pinned into a perfect bun like she stepped out of some textbook scientist advertisement. The contiguity makes Medicine Pocket bristle.

“Yeah, you see me standing here, don’t you?” they bite, rolling their eyes and pushing past her into the lab.

“Nice to see you too,” Trina mutters under her breath, closing the door behind them.

Medicine Pocket heads straight for their workstation, a deranged mess of papers, test tubes, and half-disassembled gadgets. They slump into their chair, dragging a hand down their face. Ugh, mismatched eyes and warm smiles, they think bitterly. “What’s wrong with me?” they groan, glaring at the ceiling as if it has answers.

Deciding the best way to purge their thoughts is to drown them in science, Medicine Pocket grabs their notes and starts flipping through them. They settle on a stack of papers marked with Lucy’s precise, perfunctory handwriting, all bearing the same topic: The “Storm” Phenomenon.

Medicine Pocket sighs. “Bucket Head and her obsession with the unknown,” they spit, but their curiosity wins out. Fine. Storm research. Let’s go.

They grab a pen and start scribbling, their mind stropping as they sink into the work. The Storm—a catastrophic event that rewrites the flow of time. To most, it’s an impenetrable enigma. To Medicine Pocket, it’s a puzzle worth poking at until something breaks.

They jot down questions, theories, and potential experiments:

What triggers the Storm’s arrival?

Why is the Timekeeper the only one immune while others are completely erased?

What’s the significance of its color changes?

Does it respond to temporal disturbances, or is it entirely random?

Pulling out one of Lucy’s data logs, they skim through her notes on temporal flux patterns. “Patterns,” they mutter, voice heavy with sarcasm. “As if this thing’s going to follow a neat little timeline like her bloody algorithms. It’s chaos—like everything else in this stupid world.”

Still, something nags at the back of their mind. The Storm didn’t just rewrite time—it dissolved it, rearranged it like clay. Medicine Pocket winces, scribbling furiously. What if it’s not random? What if it’s targeting something specific—someone specific?

“Storm as predator,” they whisper, jotting down the phrase. “Searching for… what?” They chew on the end of their pen, glaring at the disarray of data in front of them.

The more they think about it, the more tangled their thoughts become. Their scrawls grow messier, veering off into unrelated questions…

Why does X’s smile feel so distracting?

Can a Goldberg machine predict people’s emotional responses?

Medicine Pocket groans, tossing the pen onto the desk and slumping forward. “Great. Now even work can’t save me from this nonsense.”

They sit there for a moment, glaring at their notes as if they’ve betrayed them, before grabbing a nearby stress ball and hurling it at the far wall. It bounces back with a satisfying thwack, landing on the floor with a pathetic wobble.

“Stupid… emotions. Stupid… Researcher X.”

But even as they mope, they glance at the ‘Keep Out’ sign swinging gingerly on the door. A misgiving of something uncomfortably balmy shoots through their chest, and they press their lips into a thin line.

“Back to work,” they scorn, dragging the papers closer. “I’ve got real mysteries to solve—not… whatever this is.”

Medicine Pocket’s pen scratches furiously across a sheet of paper as they lean into their work. The labyrinthine tangles of data and theories spread out before them are beginning to click into place, and the rush of progress hits like a lightning bolt. Pure, unfiltered ecstasy. A prominent grin makes it to their lips, shark-like and triumphant, as they scribble formulas and notes with feverish energy.

“Trina!” they bark when a perception springs into their mind, spinning on the stool. “Whiteboard. Now. Grab the blue marker—the red one makes me itch—and start recording these equations.”

Trina sighs, clearly used to them by now, and obediently picks up the marker. “Fine, fine. What am I writing down this time?”

“Temporal stress thresholds in localized phenomena!” Medicine Pocket exclaims, slapping a hand against the whiteboard. “And don’t skimp on the variables. If you leave out the third column, I’ll chew your head off, I swear.”

“Charming as ever,” Trina drawls, but she writes down the numbers Medicine Pocket rattles off at lightning speed.

“Column D! You’re skipping it!” Medicine Pocket snarls, pointing at the board with the vehemence of someone guiding a nuclear missile.

“I’m not skipping it, you’re talking too fast,” Trina fires back, but keeps writing, her hand moving with mechanical efficiency.

Satisfied that Trina is keeping up—barely—Medicine Pocket dives back into their papers, muttering under their breath. Theories are flying through their head like a storm of their own creation. They begin mapping out possible ways to stabilize temporal flux points, their mind spinning faster than their pen can move. They grab the blue marker from Trina’s hand mid-sentence to scrawl something barely legible on the board, even to them.

“Got it?” Medicine Pocket demands, spinning back to the desk without waiting for an answer. “Good. Keep going.”

For a hot minute, they’re in their element—lost in the sheer upheaval of scientific discovery, surrounded by notes and numbers and the thrill of their brilliance. Everything feels perfectly aligned.

And then they hear it.

Laughter. Muffled voices. Familiar tones carrying through the hall outside the lab.

Medicine Pocket freezes, marker hovering mid-air. They recognize that laugh—bright, supple, unmistakable. X.

A chorus of other voices joins his, and their almost-smile drops like a stone. Regulus. Mr. APPLe. Mesmer. And…

Their nose flare. Oliver Fog.

And their eye twitches, hand clenching around the marker. For a second, they feel their focus wobble, like a glass teetering on the edge of a table. But no. They shake their head violently, clearing the thought. Never mind them. Who cares? Fog Boy can go haunt someone else.

They slam the marker back onto the whiteboard rail and hop off the stool, storming back to their desk. But their chest feels too tight, and their blood feels too loud in their ears. That exasperating, erratic pulse—that’s the problem. It’s always been the problem.

They yank open the desk drawer and pull out the familiar syringe filled with effervescent green fluid. Without a second thought, they stab it into their arm, watching as the liquid vanishes into their veins. The effect is instant—a rush of clarity and energy floods their senses, sharpening the edges of the world.

“Better,” they declare, rolling their shoulder as they toss the syringe aside.

They swivel back toward the whiteboard, eyes gleaming with manic spirit. “Trina!” they bark again, startling her as she adjusts her grip on the marker. “Forget the thresholds for now. Let’s blow this up. Literally. What happens if we destabilize the temporal node instead of stabilizing it?”

“Uh… it collapses into a black hole?” Trina offers hesitantly.

“Exactly!” Medicine Pocket yells, grinning wildly. “And what’s on the other side of that black hole? That’s what we’re going to find out!”

“Wait, are we actually—”

“Take notes!”

Fueled by the injection, their theorizing becomes even more chaotic. They pace the room, gesturing wildly at the whiteboard, muttering equations faster than Trina can write them down. Their thoughts spiral into impossibly intricate tangents, one train of thought bleeding into another.

The voices in the hallway grow faint as they become immersed in the work again, the outside world dissolving under the consummate mass of their focus. Numbers and possibilities dance across their vision, and for a little while, they feel invincible.

“Let’s crack open the Storm and see what makes it bust!” Medicine Pocket asserts, slamming a fist onto the desk with exhilaration.

They scribble something else onto a loose sheet of paper, their grin widening. In the meantime, this is all they need—numbers, theories, and the thrill of invention. And absolutely nothing else.

˗ˏˋ꒰𖦹｡🧪⋆°✰꒱ ˎˊ˗

They jerk awake, blinking blearily at the dingy glow of their workstation lamp. Papers are scattered everywhere, some stuck to the side of their face, and a woozy line of drool marks the corner of their mouth. They groan, wiping it away as they peer at the clock on the wall. 1:19 a.m.

“Damn it,” they curse, sitting upright and stretching with a start. Their back protests from being hunched over the desk for so long. A quick scan of the lab shows it’s empty—no Trina, no one else. She must’ve left for the sleeping quarters.

Medicine Pocket grumbles as they stand, brushing stray papers off their coat. “Great. Passed out like an idiot. Again.” They catch a glimpse of their disheveled reflection on the polished brink of the workbench and pout. A public heap, they deem. “Right. Shower first. Food second.”

The public showers for Laplace staff are as sterile and functional as the rest of the facility. By the time Medicine Pocket finishes and redresses in their usual attire, they feel somewhat human again. Their hair is damp, tied back with the ever-present scissors, and the antiseptic-scented soap clings to their skin. But as they towel off, their stomach thunders, demanding attention.

“Fine, fine,” they click their tongue, grabbing their ID badge and heading toward the elevators, where they stand in front of, tapping their fingers impatiently against their crossed arms. Their stomach growls again, louder this time, and they glare at the offending sound as if it’s personally insulted them. “Sandwiches,” they mutter to themself. “If it’s another night of sandwiches, I swear I’ll—”

The sound of footsteps interrupts their grumbling. They glance sideways, only to immediately wish they hadn’t.

Oliver Fog approaches with the same polished air he always transudes, his top hat angled just so, his umbrella wand in hand like it’s glued there. He nods when their eyes meet, his smirk so faint it could almost be mistaken for pleasantness.

“Medicine Pocket,” he greets casually, stepping up beside them.

They grunt, lowly. “You again. What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you’re cleaning fog inside the building now.”

Oliver chuckles lightly, as if amused by their sarcasm. “Not tonight. Just making my rounds.” He adjusts the brim of his hat, his voice glassy but clearly deliberate. “I was actually just leaving X’s lab.”

Medicine Pocket freezes, their arms uncrossing as the words hit them like a badly aimed dart. “X’s lab?” They blink at him. “And why would you need to be there this late?”

Oliver shrugs, as if the answer is obvious. “Oh, it’s been happening for some time. Old friends, you know. He seemed happy to accommodate me every time.”

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. Medicine Pocket walks inside, tension radiating from every movement, and Oliver follows, his expression blithe.

“Didn’t realize you were on the schedule for a catch-up session even at midnight,” Medicine Pocket says flatly as the doors close.

Oliver’s smile widens just slightly, his voice light but pointed. “No schedule needed. I tend to drop by when it feels right.”

Medicine Pocket lets out a sharp laugh, the sound more bark than humor. “How nice for you. Dropping by unannounced, poking into places no one asked you to.”

Oliver tilts his head, the faintest flicker of amusement in his otherwise serene expression. “You sound annoyed, Medicine Pocket. Something bothering you?”

“Annoyed?” Medicine Pocket snorts, their fingers tightening around the railing. “Why would I be annoyed? You’re just so charming, after all.” Their voice is dripping with sarcasm, each word razor-sharp.

Oliver chuckles again, his calm exterior unwavering. “Well, X didn’t seem to mind.”

That does it. Medicine Pocket turns to face him fully, eyes blazing as they lean closer, practically bristling. “Listen, Fog Boy,” they say, voice low and cutting. “You can loiter outside his lab all you want, but let me make one thing clear.”

Oliver raises an eyebrow, his calm facade slipping just a fraction. “Oh? Do enlighten me.”

Medicine Pocket steps back, their grin self-assured. “I don’t need to hover. I don’t need to linger around his door or find excuses to bump into him. You know why?” They cross their arms, their confidence radiating. “Because X? He comes to me. Every time. Without fail. Naturally.”

For the first time, Oliver’s smile falters, his grip tightening ever so slightly on his umbrella wand.

The elevator dings, and the doors open to Medicine Pocket’s floor. They step out like clockwork, throwing a smirk over their shoulder. “So, keep hanging around, Fog Boy. Let me know how that works out for you.”

And with that, the doors slide shut, leaving Oliver alone in the elevator, whose composed expression remains for only a few heartbeats, before a crack of uncertainty flashes across his face. And then there’s Medicine Pocket, already mentally kicking themself for what they said, because what on earth was that just now?

[svefs]

To everyone but you (PT.2)

TW!: Congrats your not single anymore loser, Cycle Iruma, Iruma this isn't you 😪😭, mention of drugs,emo phase iruma, Iruma being possessive 😰😰 and ofc fem!reader

Summary: Waking up from your sleep feels really bad, yk what else feels bad? The second-hand-embarrassment I get from this fic so you'll probably get it too

----------------------------

Waking up in the nurse's office isn't too bad. If only it wasn't after school hours. You woke up a groggy but your still a gorgeous mf. Now slowly realizing that you're in the nurse's office after school hours, you remembered Iruma.Blue-haired kind,sweet and soft boy that turned into a emo hottie. GODDAMN was he hot asf. Oh but you still need to get home and catch up with the work you missed.

The next day you went to school again, like usual cause we all love school/hj. You were of course nervous to encounter a wild, raging, emo Iruma again but it was all good.

It was not good. You would avoid anything to do with Iruma the whole day. Whenever you heard his name, see a look alike, his friends, his teachers, even he himself. Maybe you felt bad but like you got cornered to a wall by him and he basically made you pass out so-

On the other hand, Iruma was suffering on the inside and playing it cool on the outside( or practically tryna act fine while he's thinking about how he probably scared you off ). Least to say, he definitely scared you off 😪👍.

It wasn't until after school you finally got the courage to approach the demon/human smurf(get it? Cause his hair is blue? Nvm). God were you sweating but you just blamed the weather.

"Y/N?,so you're finally willing to talk to me,"

"BROIMSOSORRYFORIGNORINGYOUFORLIKEWHATTHEWHOLEDAYIJUSTNEEDEDSOMETIMETOMYSELFTOTHINKABOUTWHATHAPPENEDYESTERDAYANDDAMNSIRTHEREALIZATIONJUSTHITMETHATYOUMAYALSOLIKEMESOLIKEWANNAFUCK?????ORSUMLIKE-"you rambled.

[Bro I'm so sorry for ignoring you for like the whole day I just needed some time to myself to think about what happened yesterday and damn sir the realization just hit me that you may also like me so like wanna fuck?or sum like-(that took less time to type than I expected ngl)]

"W-wait what?" Iruma suddenly stopped your rambling of course making you hella confused.

"You wanna fuck???"

"Fuck."

In the end you guys starting going out but decided to keep it low not even telling close friends only family. Of course he apologized to you profusely when his evil cycle ended. I think Opera and Sullivan likes you 👍. Asmodeus was a raging snake after hearing the news

Note:

I'm sorry this was late and rushed but ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

[star-girl69]

Ultraviolence

Natalie Scatorccio x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: omg who is she? she doesn’t even go here…..

i’m back maybe maybe not and i just found out depression and anxiety are REAL!!!!! don’t talk to me…… anyways i hope you all enjoy!!!!!!

warnings: too tired to list it all, you all watched the show you all know what’s happening it’s ok

Chapter Thirty One - Like When We Were Kids

Chapter Thirty One - Like When We Were Kids

—-

2021-

After listening to some poor girl cry out about her boyfriend, patting some drums in a circle, Misty finally found you and dragged you to the kitchen. The phone is old, sunshine yellow, stuck to the wall like a payphone.

“You’re gonna wanna hear this.”

Of course, only Misty Quigley would start a phone call like that. You can practically feel Taissa roll her eyes through the phone.

You and Misty scrunched together in front of the phone isn’t very practical, but Tai hates you maybe a little less than she hates Misty, so it’s smart for your mouth to be near the receiver too.

“Taissa,” you say, “Listen, okay?” She audibly scoffs, Misty shuffles on her feet.

“I don’t have time for you right now,” she sighs.

“We are at a residential wellness center off Route 19 in Cherry Hill, New York.”

“Where you’re getting help?”

“Where everyone is getting help from one certain Charlotte Matthews.”

“What?” Tai whispers in shock. “I thought she was in Switzerland…”

“I know, I know,” Misty mutters, tightening her grip on the telephone, her voice still a whisper, slowly starting to pace around the room. You mutter under your breath and try to follow her around, slamming into each other every few seconds as she makes odd turns. “Apparently she’s not. And- Natalie’s here too, Tai. You’ve gotta see this place for yourself… it’s a bunch of granola losers but the food is great. And the B.O factor is surprisingly low.”

“Misty,” you roll your eyes, but she simply ignores you.

Silence on the other side of the line. Just for a moment, like sand sinking to the bottom of the earth. And like the tug of a fish on a line, you know you’ve gotten her.

“Where’d you say this place was?”

You let your eyes fall shut and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

—-

Misty had quickly found some sort of camaraderie with the other men and women here, sharing stories about Natalie and Lottie from years and years ago. From when you didn’t even know any of them, not really, when all you had been was a journalist.

When you had been normal. When you had a life in front of you, laid out all pretty, and you thought you could handle any small bumps that life sent out to you to.

But you were never prepared for a plane crash. You were never prepared for the wilderness.

And it all makes you so sick that you have to tune her out, instead picking at the lunch served in the admittedly very nice cafeteria, wondering when Natalie would find you.

When you look up, you see her.

She stands there, tray in her hands, looking absolutely shocked and maybe slightly angry, her body tense, but she holds her head up high. You haven’t seen her do that in years.

“Oh!” Misty says, catching sight of her, pearly white teeth showing in a Cheshire-cat smile. Everyone else quickly shuffled off, and Misty stood, awkwardly squished between the table and the bench, patting the seat across from you.

You run your hands over your hair, then drop them quickly.

Natalie sets her tray on the table. Not enough force to make any loud noise, but enough for you to know that she is definitely not happy with your reappearance.

But, Misty holds her eyes.

“Why did you come back here?” she asks, her lip jutted out.

They both sit down, and you practically watch the cogs in Misty’s head turn.

“Well, when we spoke to you yesterday you didn’t seem like yourself.” Her concern is faux, but convincing, maybe because it is slightly true. “So, I wanted to find out exactly what was going on. You still seem a little weird,” she notes, picking up her fork. “So does Lottie. But, you know, what’s new, right?” she laughs.

Natalie plays with her food.

“But I have to say, since I’ve been here, I can totally get into this place. Knowing Lottie basically makes us, like, celebrities. And I was a little disturbed at first but, it must be good for you. I mean, look at you.”

Nat has this look in her eyes, all over her face, that you know too well.

“You really do look good, Nat,” you say, your voice not feeling like your own.

She meets your eyes and looks away just as quickly.

“What happened to that guy you were with?” she says, slyly, going for the throat. And Misty does falter for a moment.

“O…oh. Uh, he went home,” she smiles, taking a sip of white wine. Natalie purses her lips.

Misty looks expectantly at her, smile still bright and wide, and all you can do is stare at Natalie and that look in her pretty eyes.

“What?” Misty says after a moment, maybe sick of her staring.

Nat’s face turns softer.

“We’re all like this,” she says. “Aren’t we?”

You think she might cry.

Misty cocks her head to the side.

You want to grab her hand and hold her close to you.

—-

Natalie has always been a sort of fire. She was always something of violence, a storm, a fire, a hurricane. You know that she thought that all she could do was destroy, but she forgets that at the root of it all, fire destroys but it also cleanses.

Sometimes a forest needs to burn down in order for new, healthier life to spurt through the soil.

Misty had casually mentioned what room Natalie was in, and after a few moments of pacing outside her door, you knocked.

You heard some soft shuffling, and finally, her voice.

“Come in,” she said, muffled through the door, and you quickly came in a shut the door behind you, before she could have the common sense to force you right back out that door again.

The door clicked shut, you press your back against it, staring straight ahead at the wall in front of you. Some panting of a lake Natalie clearly did not put up.

You can feel her eyes on you. And after a second charged with tension you could cut with a knife, you turn your head towards her and meet her eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

You expected her to be meaner. Rougher. But instead, she just seems tired. Accepting.

You shrug. And it’s the most honest answer you can give.

She shifts up into a sitting position, looking down, and you don’t know what she wants but you know you want to be near her. And then you replace the empty space on her small bed with yourself.

“I’m bored,” you say, some soft of bullshit explanation to get rid of the awkwardness that festers between you. “And… I don’t know where Lottie is. And Misty is Misty, so…”

“Ha,” she says, smiling softly.

“You’re all that’s left,” you breathe. You look at your hands, and you can always feel her in a way you can’t feel anyone else, so you feel her eyes travel up your body until they caress your face.

“Lottie’s stupid shit really does work,” she mumbles after a moment. “This entire place, really.”

You laugh softly. “Have you been tracking your progress? Does Lottie have a file on you?”

She laughs too. “No. No, I just know. Because… I don’t hate you as much as I did. The reunion, you were right, and I… I just…”

You finally look towards her, staring into everything.

Staring at her like this, you’re reminded of how much you need her, how much you just want to forget about the reality of life and forget that fact that you’re real, you’re here, you’re alive, and just bury your head into her neck and breathe her in. Feel her arms around you and know that with her there, with her love for you in your bones, nothing would ever hurt you.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Nat.”

“I would have loved you through it all.” The present tense sits in the air, unsung, unknown.

And you just smile, because it hurts, it does, but you fell in love with the fire long ago.

—-

You were forced into purple a while ago, the first moment you got here, really, but as long as Natalie has been here you don’t think she’s ever worn the dress code. It’s like her. You wouldn’t really expect anything else.

So when she comes down the path in purple, you’re shocked.

You have this little vision in your mind of running up to her, putting her face in your hands, and asking her who she is. You don’t know anymore. Will she ever let you know again?

You have known her for so long at her worst. You know that part of her inside and out. But the happy and healthier she gets, the more you realize what you could have had, the more you realize what you want.

You drop the basket you were weaving, hearing cars roll up on the gravel behind you.

Misty jumps up next to you, turning around just as a car door slams, someone else muttering “we have visitors.”

You watch Natalie and Shauna hug, greeting each other softly.

The other car opens up, and Tai and Van step out, two women you never thought you would see together like this again. Taissa runs down the path and hugs Misty, and they mutter, and you stand back from the rest of them, because she’s here.

If there was someone from that plane you never thought you would see again, it’s Van.

“Van,” you mutter, and her mouth parts as she looks out over the sprawling community Lottie had built. You run past the rest of them and up the steep hill, running into her open arms and letting out a heavy sigh because she smells exactly as you remember.

You pull away, everything feeling like a fever dream, softly placing your hand against her scarred cheek.

She smiles softly and places her hand against yours, her pinky touching your own scar.

“Van!” Misty shouts. “Woah. Are you guys back together?”

You rub something out of your eyes and laugh softly at this reunion.

“No!” Tai says. “No, no, no, no. Van’s not even staying.”

You step away from Van, giving her a clear look of the entire property, the mountains and the lake in the background.

Her mouth parts. Horrified. Shocked. Scared.

You place your hand on her shoulder and follow her eyes.

“She’s just dropping me off, right, Van?” Tai continues, but receives no answer. “Van?”

Everyone turns towards the deck, the mountains, and the lake.

Lottie stands there, dark blue dress, and she looks like something that is not supposed to be here. Not in the midst of all the raw untouched nature and the purple.

Van takes a shuddering breath.

Lottie turns.

She slowly steps forward, off of the deck and towards the grass, towards all of you.

One thing about Lottie Matthews, you have learned, is that she is something entirely different. She isn’t like the rest of you. She is something else.

But if she is something else, then so are you.

—-

Misty held out the bowl, and slowly, they all emptied their pockets the same way you had done. Shauna hesitated, but after a moment, sighed and took her purse off of her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Taissa starts, looking between you, Misty, and Nat. “Have you three joined a cult since we last saw you, or…”

“We are an intentional community,” Lottie says, taking a step forward, her hands held out softly, like she’s trying to ease all of them into it.

You could see it on all of their faces. You could feel it on your own.

“What exactly is the intention?” Van asks, trying to put as much distance as she can between all of you.

“Okay, about a week ago, I…” Nat starts, licking her lips, “Had my rifle in my mouth, and I was gonna pull the trigger.”

And she chuckles, like any part of this situation calls for laughter. As if the world ever really calls for laughter.

“And that’s when Lottie found me.” They lock eyes.

“Oh, my God,” Shauna breathes.

“I had put… walls up. And they are finally starting to come down,” she justifies, looking between all of you. “Because of this place. It isn’t easy, uh, but now I understand that it’s really what I need. You all need it, too. I mean… we brought some really dark shit back with us from that place. So, maybe now, we can actually start dealing with it.”

Everyone looks around. Silent.

But you know she’s right.

—-

taglist:

@sweetdayme4427 @dreaming-for-an-escape @peachydoki @happysparklingshadows @zhivaxo @maraudeerrs @karsonromanoff @onlyangel-444 @subastronaut @iheartnatscatorccio @yourlocalloser-core

everything taglist:

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