#but what he told her is likely a cover story for his real intentions...also he /might/ have influenced Sansa on the Tourney

[1d1195]

Ding - Round 6

Read Ding here | ~6.3k words

Warnings: some smut 18+ only, oral, fingering, cockwarming if you squint; angst, car accident, trauma dumping, sucky parental figure. Please read with caution. You might also see one of my cliffhangers.

From me: I feel like the beginning is messy to read--almost like it's out of nowhere? But it's pretty intentional, tbh. I hope it doesn't detract from the story. Hope you like it 💕

Summary: Cupcake and Harry are busy. Harry has his big fight. Cupcake was right about throwing her life out of balance by adding in a boyfriend. They miss each other. They don't know how to deal with that either. At least not while they're apart.

It was not Harry’s fault. Even though he thought it was.

But to be fair, it wasn’t her fault either. Even if she felt it was.

Harry grew into adulthood knowing he was stubborn. Everyone in his life told him so. It was obvious. He didn’t get to be an undefeated champion without grit. His entire gym was named as a near synonym of the word. But she continued to surprise him, and it was clear that he had very much met his match—she was competing for his crown of stubbornness. If Harry wasn’t so mad about his current state, he might even acknowledge that she was winning.

At first everything was new and completely fine. He was enamored with her. Finally she was all his. He took her on a real date—several real, authentic dates. He danced around with her in the bakery kitchen. Brought her food for movie nights in her apartment. (He also licked her when the movie lost his attention, and she looked too good to be sitting there without his head between her legs.) He even brought her bouquets of flowers simply because it was Monday.

She stayed at his place, wrapped close to him. It was as if they had done it for years. When he woke up early for a run, she joined him, assuring him to go ahead and circle back for her since he ran way better and faster than she did. But he enjoyed the way she massaged his muscles in the shower most. (The way she wrapped her hand around his dick most of all.) She made him breakfast before they left for work and Harry thought if the bakery wasn’t to her liking she could open a breakfast place as a second choice.

She chatted with Sarah while he worked out and trained. Without any kind of asking, she helped clean equipment when he needed to focus more on training. She organized his desk in his office because it was a disaster and it stressed her out. Whenever she cleaned, she hummed and didn’t notice. It made Harry fall deeper in love with her. Every moment he was with her was magical.

Until she was exhausted.

He missed her. For the first time in his life, he had felt completely in love with someone. The way he wanted to be in love. He finally had that. They were inseparable. Nights spent cocooned under Harry’s covers. His finger tracing her features in the dark. “So pretty,” he murmured.

“You can’t even see me,” she whispered.

“S’how I know you’re so pretty. Can feel it.”

So not having that for two weeks was like trying to swim through cement.

She had what could only be called a complete meltdown. Frosting and cupcakes everywhere. She was overwhelmed—said yes to too many functions in a row and spread herself too thin. She was frustrated with Harry and his time training and just missed him.

But she didn’t say it.

Because Harry was frustrated too. He tried to help her, but she didn’t let him in. There was the whole not knowing her family—even though she had effectively wormed her way into Mum and Gemma’s heart. Though he wasn’t surprised in the slightest; honestly, he thought his niece liked her more than Harry and she had only met her twice.

So, when she exploded, for lack of a better word, it was magnificent. It was nothing he had ever seen before. The exhaustion in her eyes, the worry on her face, the tears that spilled down her cheeks. Harry was sick with worry and frustration just to hear her cry but was nearly impressed. The cupcakes overturned on the floor were nothing in comparison to the way she cried.

“Cupcake, you are overreact—”

“Do not finish that sentence,” she hissed at him. That was entirely on him. Gem had taught him better than to tell a woman she was overreacting.

“Lemme take something off your plate, kitten,” he tried instead. He was ignoring her frustrated tears even though he wanted to brush them away. “Tell me what’s going on,” he figured it had something to do with her dad because she kept checking her phone and she hadn’t mentioned going to see him in over a week. But her car was overdue for an oil change, and she didn’t want to drive it that far but hadn’t a moment to deal with it. She also complained about something regarding her eyebrows, but Harry didn’t fully understand it because quite honestly, he had never thought about her eyebrows.

But if it meant caring for herself, he wished he pushed further.

Their schedules hadn’t lined up in two weeks. No more than an hour or two alone. She saw him plenty while she chatted with Sarah at the gym while he trained or worked. He and Maeve had started a competition of who could sprinkle the most cupcakes in fifteen minutes (Harry was willing to admit defeat once in his life—he would never beat Maeve) even though she didn’t like that they were having fun when she was stressed.

They hadn’t practiced her self-defense moves in nearly a month.

So, it felt like her fault.

But what she hadn’t anticipated was Harry’s sour attitude reflecting right back at her. Harry didn’t take her frustration lying down. He snapped back at her which felt so heinous to do but he was grumpy.

But he was tired of arguing with her. Tired of feeling frustrated, begging her to let him in when it was obvious she didn’t want to. So, for the first time in his life, he stopped fighting.

It pained him to no end. He could see in her eyes that she was exhausted. It hurt him so badly. Each time he said, “Whatever, Cupcake,” he felt like the worst boyfriend in the world for not taking her frustration away. But she wouldn’t let him in. She wouldn’t let him take away her frustration. It was like she wanted to argue with him. It was entirely unfair, but she was mad about his indifference. It didn’t make any sense for her to be mad when she had just as much blame to take for his sour mood.

“Why don’t you just go home?” She suggested. Bitterness coated every word.

“Yeah?” Harry looked up at her from his phone, his eyes narrowed. She could see his muscles tense like they were in the ring, and she was aiming for his head. “Jus’ leave?” He repeated.

“Obviously you don’t want to be here,” she muttered.

He slid back from the table, the chair scraping against the floor with a screech that made her teeth hurt. “No, cupcake,” he shook his head and made his way for the door. She hated itwhen he said the sweet name like that. She knew it wasn’t her nickname when he said it. It wasn’t filled with the love he liked. It was sarcastic. Mean. It hurt her more than an actual punch would have, she was sure. “You don’t want me here,” his voice was low. She closed her eyes, trying to keep as calm as possible. It was hard because she was anything but calm. But she said nothing. “You don’t want me in your life,” he snapped finally letting all the emotion out that had been building over the last week. “You keep things from me. You build up walls that I can’t break down. Every time I get to the top y’add another layer of bricks.”

She stayed silent.

“Go on, cupcake. Say m’wrong,” he challenged. “Say y’let me in.”

But both knew she couldn’t say it.

It was eerily quiet in the kitchen. The pinch of Harry’s brow made her sad. She wanted to smooth it out with a kiss. “Tell me to stay,” he whispered quietly.

But she couldn’t say that either.

“Yeah,” he sighed and turned. “S’what I thought.”

*

Maeve wondered if her best friend was going to have a heart attack a lot during her time at A Pinch of Sprinkles. The opening in town nearly sent her to the ER. She was running on fumes at the time. Christmas always made her anxious. Anytime they were chosen for a wedding also had Maeve worrying about her medical history. But in comparison, those were nothing. If Maeve had known what not talking to Harry would do to her, she would have told her that Christmas was a tropical vacation.

Harry stopped coming to see her.

“Did...” she swallowed, nervous to infuriate her best friend further but out of care for her, she had to know. “Is... Harry still...”

She glared at the cupcakes she was frosting, squeezing the icing bag a little too tightly. “I don’t know,” she grumbled. She hadn’t gotten a text from him nor seen him in a week after she told him to leave.

Maeve’s heart cracked. “Babe,” Maeve murmured softly.  “He... he adores you... what happened?”

She shook her head unwilling to go over it again. The nights were filled with tear-soaked pillowcases, and she was exhausted from stress and crying. “I just can’t be in a relationship. It’s too much.”

Of course.

Maeve was sick of her best friend’s loneliness. “That is bullshit,” Maeve rolled her eyes. “Did you push him away?”

“Maeve, shut the fuck—”

“Oh, good luck pushing me away, babe. No,” she shook her head and grabbed the bag of frosting from her hands and threw it at the sink to gain her attention.

“I was wor—”

Maeve ignored her words and continued on with her own. “I might not be a boxer, but I can take a punch or two all the same. You pushed him away. Now you’re sulking. You’ve been punishing yourself for so long because you think you don’t deserve to be happy. Harry did nothing but love you and try to help you and you wouldn’t let him—”

“I am going to fire you,” she muttered bitterly. Harry never said he loved her anyway. How could he love her after all that? How could he love her if he didn’t even know the truth?

Maeve continued anyway, immune to her threat because she knew that wasn’t true at all. “You deserve to be happy, and Harry made you happy. That scares you,” she finished.

Angry tears filled her eyes and she ground her teeth together.

“You’re not going to say anything?”

Maeve was her best friend and knew more about her and her family than anyone. “I don’t get happy things.”

“But you do. You have me, number one,” she snorted, fortunately. The tension eased just the slightest bit. “You have this bakery. And more importantly, you have a guy that is so crazy about you, he has been calling me every night to make sure you’re home safe and sound.” Her heart fluttered. She didn’t know that.

“Every time I love someone, they go away,” she whispered.

Maeve felt nothing but sympathy for her sweet friend. “You have to give Harry a chance. You have to tell him why you’re doing this. I have a good feeling about him,” Maeve reminded her. For the first time in a week, she felt her body untense.

“He calls you?” She asked.

“Every night.”

She bit the inside of her lip. “That’s nice,” she whispered.

Maeve nodded. “Really nice,” she agreed. “Plus, he’s like super hot. Did you even sleep with him yet?” She blushed at her words and reached for a new frosting bag out of the fridge. “You bitch! You didn’t tell me?!” Maeve screeched. She smacked her arm repeatedly. “Tell me everything! When did you do it? Where did you do it? Harry must have a massive dick, right? I feel like he’s—”

“Maeve,” she laughed. The first time in a week. It felt good to laugh. “I...”

“No, you have to spill. Something.”

Her cheeks were flaming. “I think I’m addicted to it,” she whispered.

“Thank. God.”

*

Harry refused to go back to the bakery for the rest of the week uninvited. His workout sessions were horrific. Louis yelled at him for missing his marks and he felt everything about his footwork was sloppy. The way she ignored him made him feel terrible. But naturally, he didn’t help either. He hadn’t texted her in over a week.

But it didn’t stop Harry from waking up to a call at eleven thirty at night.

“What?” He grumbled. He didn’t want to fight. He was tired of arguing with her and was tired of being frustrated. She would have to do the work if she was going to try and fix this when he needed sleep.

The sound of her shaky breath snapped his eyes open. “Can you come get me?” She croaked.

That did him in within seconds. The vulnerability in her voice. “Cupcake, s’matter?” He was awake instantly. It wasn’t sarcastic. It was her name. The one he used that made her feel adored. It was sweet and made her feel better almost as if he was already at the bakery. He quickly slid into trainers that he didn’t even untie; the back of the heel was smushed down and uncomfortable against his foot, but it didn’t matter. Her sniffling made him insane with worry. It was like the last few weeks hadn’t happened. “Kitten, talk to me,” he ordered. His heart racing and his fear taking over. He wasn’t sure he locked his door, and he was lucky he even remembered to grab his car keys before he descended the stairs to the parking lot.

“I’m alright,” she promised, tears filling most of her voice.

“Y’don’t sound alright.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated.

“Cupcake, I swear t’God,” he threw his car into drive before it was fully turned on.

“I just miss you. I’m sad and scared. Okay? I’m physically fine, but I’m a mess. I want you here,” her voice wobbled, and Harry felt like he was breaking. “Please,” she sniffled.

Harry felt crushing relief and he watched the needle on Clay’s speedometer lower from a felony charge to a healthy speeding ticket.  “M’five minutes away, kitten. Stay put.”

“Okay,” her voice was quiet, sad but Harry didn’t mind.

“You’re okay?” He repeated. She nodded. He couldn’t see that though. “Cupcake?”

“I’m okay,” she promised, it was punctuated by a sniffle.

His heart felt so broken feeling the anguish in her voice. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered to the phone. “I wasn’t nice,” he mumbled.

“It’s hard,” she whispered. The remainder of his drive was silent. Just her sniffles and the hum of his tires on the road to accompany the small miles between them. Harry sprinted to her bakery door. She was there pacing the front and unlocked it as he approached. Harry dropped his phone right inside the entryway, the bell signaling his arrival, finally.

Within one second of crossing the threshold, she was in his arms. The door only clicked shut once he was around her. His face buried in her hair, his arms tightening around her like he was trying to keep her afloat in the middle of the ocean. “M’here,” he hummed. “M’here, Cupcake,” he promised. She squeezed her eyes shut, her heart finally slowing after so much anxiety had plagued her over the last couple of weeks.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he assured her. “S’okay.”

“It’s so hard,” she repeated, herself from the phone call. Harry wished they were home. Even though it was late and private Harry wanted the comfort of her bed or his sofa to let her fall apart. The bakery was warm, but he wanted pillows for her head and blankets for her body to comfort her while she whispered secrets to him.

“I know, kitten. I know s’hard. But I... I adore you, Cupcake. Don’t y’know that? What do y’think all this is between us? I want t’meet your dad. He’s obviously a huge part of your life... and keeping secrets from me? S’not fair.”

“I know it’s not fair.”

“You know everything ‘bout me. S’like I don’t get t’know anything ‘bout you. Do y’think I’m suddenly not going to like you? I assure you that’s never going t’happen.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know what I did.”

“What could you possibly have done? You’re made of sugar, Cupcake. You have to let me in. I told you everything. You know my family. You know my friends. You know why I bought Driven and why I have been fighting since I was ten years old. You have kept me out of everything. I don’t even know why you opened A Pinch of Sprinkles. I know you have a dad. You never talk about your mom. I don’t know about your childhood best friend or your favorite pet. There are these walls you keep up and I don’t know why, and I don’t know how to break them down.”

“You don’t eat cupcakes when you’re sad,” her jaw shakes as she pulls from him. The space between them feels worse than the last few weeks without her combined. It’s cold and lonely. More so than not speaking to her. More so than not sleeping beside her. His heart hurt instantly. But not as much as it hurt to watch her lower lip move almost independently of the rest of her face.

“Cupcake, what does that have t’do—”

But before he could finish his thought Harry could see it did have to do with what he just asked about. The way her eyes were shining with tears. It felt like someone clipped his vocal cords. All words escaped him, and he just stared at her as she continued. “You eat them at baby showers, weddings, and at birthday parties,” she listed. Harry stayed quiet. “You don’t eat them when your mom leaves when you’re six years old because it’s too much to be a mom,” her voice was so broken as she spoke. Harry felt her pain in the air. Like needles stabbing every inch of his exposed skin. It seemed impossible that someone wouldn’t want her. To willingly choose to leave her. Her mum no less. She was looking at her hands like they were going to give her the answer to a test she forgot to study for. “You don’t eat them at funerals or when you break your arm,” she continued. Harry wondered who had died and which arm she had broken and how. “You eat them when you get a good grade on your math test or on an anniversary.” Harry’s heart was breaking. He always wondered about the things she kept hidden in her personal life and she laid it out right there for him. In the one place that she probably loved more than anywhere else on earth. “You don’t eat them when you’re sick or sad. They’re for when you’re happy. You can’t be sad while eating sprinkles.”

It clicked effortlessly. Obviously. “A pinch of sprinkles,” he murmured softly. He crossed the space that separated them. Immediately, he cupped her cheeks in his hands, they felt cool compared to the warmth that emanated from her skin. Hot, frustrated tears started to spill over. He swiped at them with his thumbs below her eyes in tandem. He caught as many as he could but there was an overwhelming number of teardrops. It was impossible for him to keep them all from falling in rivers down her face.

She nodded. Her tears continued to spill over, rolling down her cheeks and sliding down his thumbs as he tried to stop them. “A pinch of sprinkles,” she repeated softly. She inhaled sharply. Turning against his hands holding her in place. A new wave of anguish crossed her face that Harry didn’t know could exist on someone’s face—especially not her perfect features. All the art museums he went to in university for his art history requirement made sense. The distortion of features on someone so beautiful was right before him. He understood. “You don’t eat cupcakes when your dad is in a car accident and becomes paralyzed from the neck down because you were too tired to drive even though you were the one that wanted to go to the drive-in and the only thing you can do is bring him to an entirely new town with a place to help him the way he deserves because it’s never going to be enough to thank him or repay him or—” the words were cut off by sobs that she could no longer control. Her heart was breaking right in front of him.

Harry knew how to fight. He knew how to stand with poise and grace that no one would expect a boxer to have. He knew how to throw punches that could knock a grown man out in one hit. The correct form to kick was ingrained in his mind from when he was ten years old.

Harry didn’t know how to begin to fight her sadness.

“Cupcake,” he whispered. She covered her mouth and the noise that came out of her body was so sad, so broken. Harry wondered how she could still be standing. Harry always thought he was pretty tough. That stubborn nature of his thought he was one of the toughest people in a room.

But he wasn’t. Not even close.

The pretty, sweet girl who was constantly covered in sugar and frosting—she was the strongest person he knew.

He couldn’t begin to imagine what she went through—how she still coped with it. It was a miracle she got in a car ever again. She was braver than he ever was or could be. “And he doesn’t hate me,” she whispered through her sobs. “My mom left him because of me. He is in a wheelchair and unable to live a normal life because of me.”

“Kitten,” he warned worried she would work herself up too much beyond his ability to help her. Harry was an idiot for making her feel this. He couldn’t leave well enough alone. If he only knew...

“Why doesn’t he just hate me?” She whimpered and Harry finally pulled her into his embrace. Her tears immediately soaked his shirt. She got snot all over him and Harry just kept her close to him he let her cry for longer than he ever wanted her to, but it felt good to hold her again. Regardless of the pain.

“How could anyone hate you, Cupcake?" he asked after a minute.

“I hate me,” she whispered. The question was rhetorical, but she responded anyway.

He kissed the top of her head. “If I had a kid like you... S’not anything I wouldn’t do for them. Your dad doesn’t regret that.”

“Of course he does,” she sniffled. “I couldn’t even take care of him.”

“It wasn’t your job, Cupcake.”

“But it was my faul—”

“Take me t’meet him,” he interrupted.

She blinked, confused. “What?”

“Take me to meet him. Y’go every week, yeah? Take me,” he asked. She felt so vulnerable. Her heart felt heavy.

“Meet him?” She whispered. Harry didn’t even comment that she repeated him again.

He nodded. “He saved your life for me, Cupcake. M’sure of it. S’least I could do t’meet him.”

Her heart felt something dangerously close to hope enveloping it. It was too good to be true. Her dream job, a cute apartment, a best friend, and the perfect guy. “You don’t hate me?”

He scoffed and buried his face in her neck. He missed her smell—vanilla and sugar (although he wasn’t sure that was truly her natural scent but merely from spending so much time in the kitchen). He missed her voice and the warmth he felt just holding her in his arms. “Christ, Kitten. Course not.”

“But I was so... awful. And I... I ruined his life. I'm cursed or something. I'll... I'll ruin your life too.”

"Sweetheart," he cooed. "Y'don't really believe that, do you?"

"I'm not a good luck charm, Harry."

"You are, Cupcake. You are the luckiest thing s'ever happened to me."

She looked at him miserably. "I've done nothing but made your life confusing and hell."

He pulled back a little so he could get a clearer look at her face. He smiled. The first genuine smile he felt in a week. “I can take a punch every now and again,” he promised. “Think Louis would say I could be knocked down a peg or two every once in a while,” he winked.

It wasn’t fixed. But she looked slightly less broken. She felt a little more whole. Harry’s smile did wonders for her.

*

The next day, Harry stood in the hall outside of the dining room. Other residents were in various activities, but her dad sat in his chair, slumped slightly, and he smiled at her entrance.

“Dad,” she said softly sitting across from him.

“Busy week you had it seems,” he smiled.

She blushed. “I know. I’m so sorry. I should have called. It was one thing after another—it’s no excuse I should have been here, and I was—”

“Honey,” he shook his head slightly, one of the few movements he retained from the crash. “You’re living a life. It’s okay.”

Her heart broke to see him in his chair. Unable to live the same kind of life.

“I... brought... something.”

“Something or someone?”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t see a cupcake box, so this must trouble,” he joked, smiling brightly.

“Harry is here. He wanted to meet you,” she explained.

“He wanted to? What about you?” He asked. She looked at him nervously. Her eyes said everything she didn’t say out loud. Her dad continued to smile. “Well, it’s about time, honey.”

She rolled her eyes and waved him over. Harry hurried, stepping right beside his wheelchair. Without hesitating, he grabbed her dad’s limp hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you sir,” he said shaking it firmly with both hands. When the handshake was through, Harry ever so gently placed his hand back on the arm rest of his chair.

Her dad smirked and winked at the sweet girl. “I’d offer you my seat, Harry, but I’m afraid I’m stuck in it.”

“Jesus Christ,” she covered her hand over her eyes.

Harry chuckled, taking the seat on the side of the table between them. “No problem, sir,” he assured him, taking the joke in stride. Adoration for them both squeezed around her heart. “Cupcake, do y’mind getting us some water?” She blinked in surprise. Normally, Harry wouldn’t let her lift a finger.

“Oh... um... sure,” she said and hurried off to find a nurse to help.

“Cupcake?” Her dad repeated.

“Yes, sir. She’s quite sweet like one,” he smiled gently. Her dad stared Harry down for a moment. Not maliciously. Just watching. Waiting. If they were in the ring, they would have been eyeing one another waiting for someone to make a move.

Her dad made the first one. “She said you wanted to meet me.”

Harry nodded. “I adore your daughter. With everything in me. M’going t’protect her every moment of every day. I wanted you t’hear that from me. I wanted you t’know that.”

“She can be a little feisty sometimes,” he warned, but the smile didn’t leave his face.

“M’aware,” he didn’t want to tell him about their stalemate over the last few weeks. That didn’t matter anymore and it wouldn't paint either of them in a good light.

“She said you have a big match coming up.”

He nodded. “Yes, sir. Biggest one of m’career.”

“Think you’ll win?” He asked.

Harry was confident. But he didn’t like to let his confidence overinflate his chances or make himself sound presumptuous. Anything could happen. But he was going to try his hardest and best. That would be good enough for him. “I believe so. I’ve worked hard for this. I want it more than most anything,” he promised.

“Most?” Just like his daughter, he caught the key word.

“Most,” he repeated. There was a significant pause as Harry considered his next thoughts. The words he didn’t want to explain but what he wanted her dad to know anyway. “Did she tell you about Jack?” Harry asked quietly.

The name didn’t ring a bell. He shook his head. “No. She doesn’t always tell me everything.”

Harry smiled sadly. “At least she’s consistent,” he murmured. “My manager Louis and I teach self-defense classes... she joined one several months ago,” he let another pause tell her dad the words he didn’t want to say. The story he probably shouldn’t be telling him in the first place. “M’confident she could protect herself. But m’hoping she won’t ever have to. M’going t’keep her safe,” he assured him. “I promise.”

He could only imagine the wave of emotions that took over his brain. Harry obviously wasn’t a father, but he didn’t need to be one to know he would murder someone for his daughter. Paralysis or not. “And you?” He asked quietly. Digesting the bit of information Harry alluded to.

“Me?” Harry repeated.

“Are you going to hurt her?”

“Never,” he assured him. “I’d... I’d take a bullet for her,” he promised.

“Speaking from experience, that might hurt her more than just letting her take the bullet,” he chuckled and winked. Harry snorted but nodded.

“Understood.”

She returned with three glasses of water and an extra long straw for her father. “You guys sharing war stories about me?”

“I was jus’ ‘bout t’tell him how you’re trying t’fatten me up with raspberry lemon filling,” Harry stood and held her chair out for her to sit.

“You are more than capable of saying no to cupcakes, Harry.”

“I beg to differ, honey. It’s a sin to say no to them,” her dad smiled. “A sin to say no to you,” he winked again.

*

Their reunion in Harry’s home was carnal to say the least. Harry missed being inside her. He wanted to fall asleep with her wrapped around his dick. Harry had spent many years of his teens taking care of his own sexual needs and yet somehow the weeks apart from her were worse than all those years combined.

Perhaps it was the noises she made. Begging Harry for a release. Her body craved his. It felt like a part of her had been missing for the duration of their silly stalemate. It may have only been a few weeks, but it was a few weeks without orgasms made possible by Harry’s mouth, fingers, and dick.

“I wanna stay inside you the rest of m’life,” he moaned into her ear in the middle of the night. They would both be tired in the morning. Louis would probably hate her (even though Harry assured her that was impossible) but it was worth it.

*

They started going over her self-defense moves again in between dinner and TV shows. Harry was encouraging. Making sure she followed the right move and not her instinct. Correcting her form and making sure she knew he would always be there for her. She told him more secrets that made Harry feel so whole.

She watched him train. Harry walked her to her car after falling asleep on the table in the bakery kitchen. They hadn’t spent a night apart since Harry met her dad. They fell asleep watching a movie or show nearly every night. Harry would simply lift her in his arms and carry her to the bedroom. She would coax him out of his slumber and snuggle up to him as they made it to a more comfortable position in bed.

That was the case one week prior to Harry’s big fight.

He had fallen asleep in her lap (after he had lazily brought her to orgasm with nothing more than stroking his finger messily around her clit. Simply because he could and thought her sleep shorts looked lonely without his hand inside them). Now he had an arm wrapped around her waist, face nuzzled against her T-shirt. “I love you, Cupcake,” he mumbled sleepily. She ignored it. Thought that maybe he was asleep because surely someone so big and strong—someone so scary yet boyish—couldn’t love her after all she put him through. No matter how good her mouth was on his dick. “Hear me, kitten?” He asked rolling to look up at her.

She smiled, blushing. “I heard you, thought you were sleeping.”

“Well, I love you in m’sleep, too,” he turned again, rubbing his nose against her shirt. She giggled, rubbing her fingers through his hair and massaging scalp. She was so enamored and so surprised she felt speechless. “So you’re supposed t’say it back,” he turned and looked up at her. “Unless...y’don’t feel the same way...or I said it too soon or something and it’s—”

“Oh no way,” she assured him. “I love you very much,” she laughed and brought her face down to his and kissed him.

*

The morning of his fight, they woke up early. Harry headed into the shower, and she followed right behind him. With a sleepy smile he enjoyed the feel of her mouth on him as he always did, gripping her hair in his hands while he thought about how a $100,000 would change his life and allow him to spoil her.

But after a healthy breakfast (and another blowjob from beneath the table while he ate because she simply thought he deserved a relaxed morning) there was no use denying it.

Harry was grumpy.

By the time they got to Driven, he snapped at her a few times (more than a few times) and she took it like a champ. In fact, she was planning on ignoring it entirely. It wasn’t his fault. Stress was natural on a day like today. His warmup wasn’t supposed to be heavy the day of a massive fight like this even though he tested Louis’ patience to no end.

“Again,” he snarled at Louis. Louis looked at her for support.

“Baby, you need—”

“I said, again. I know what m’doing,” he growled ignoring her.

Louis let him have one more round of practice. But it was Louis’ comments on his attitude that he found her around lunch time in his office setting up a light lunch from one of his favorite restaurants nearby. Tail between his legs. “M’sorry I snapped, kitten. S’jus’ the nerves.”

She smiled. “I know, baby. It’s okay.”

“S’not okay, though.”

She shook her head grinning at him. “I’ll yet at you later when you eat the frosting off my cupcakes.”

He nodded. “M’gonna hold you to that,” he promised.

“I know it’s silly to say. But don’t be nervous. You’re going to win, I can feel it,” she assured him and draped herself in his lap while he ate his carrot sticks.

“Course. M’good luck charm will be there,” he brushed his finger on her cheek.

“You know, I hate when you get hit. It's been my least favorite part of this whole experience.”

He shrugged. “So, I won’t get hit,” he smiled knowingly.

She laughed. “I don’t think I’m much of a good luck charm when you were already undefeated when I met you,” she reminded him.

He felt everything soften in him. The tenseness, the anger, and the frustration all disappeared. “Oh, kitten,” he shook his head. “You have been m’good luck charm for so much more than boxing matches.”

*

Louis was ready to explode with anger. Part of her wondered if he had ever followed through on his threats of getting in the ring to throw punches at Harry. She thought it might be cathartic for him. Before she can blink, the introductions are over. The sound of the bell chimes through the arena room.

Ding

Round one was over and she was holding her breath so she seriously considered the idea that she had blacked out and missed it. But Niall had murmured to her that he didn’t get hit once and she felt so proud, so excited. The kind of money Harry was going to win would do incredible things for his life. Maybe in addition to holding her breath, she had squeezed her eyes shut and turned to Niall.

His opponent was big, strong. He wasn't facing Harry because he wasn't good. It terrified to think the kind of damage an opponent like him could do to him.

“Looks like he forgot extra towels,” Niall murmured to her bringing her back to reality. She could see the irritation in Louis’ eyes and Harry holding his hands up with the gloves. How did y’expect me t’grab them? She could imagine him grumbling back only further irritating Harry. There was enough for the time being but she knew they would go through a stack of them in no time at all.

“I’ll get them,” she offered standing waving at him in some silent sign language neither discussed but Louis knew what it meant. He looked the slightest bit more relaxed by her standing. Part of her thought for the first time in their relationship he didn’t hate her. Even though Harry assured her repeatedly that he didn't. (He was utterly kind to her throughout the self-defense classes and when Harry reminded her of such, she alluded to the fact that she paid for that kindness.)

“Cupcake, you’re the best,” Niall squeezed the back of her arm as he stayed put. “Want me to come with you?” He asked.

“No, I got it,” she smiled. “I’m going to use the bathroom and hit the concession stand too. So, if I’m not back at the end of the next round I didn’t fall in the laundry basket,” she promised. Niall chuckled and waved her off.

After going to the bathroom and making her way back to the locker room, flashing her badge around her neck, she found the extra towels laid out. The noise was deafening—even from inside the locker room. She grabbed an armful's worth and made her way toward the entrance to the arena.

When she turned around, the last person she ever thought she’d see was waiting just inside the door. The volume behind him hadn’t changed. But she swore in that moment, the crowd, the bell, the thudding of her heart, everything got louder.

She knew he was trying to intimidate her just by standing there. There wasn’t a single person around. Everyone was in that arena. Her legs felt like lead, but she walked forward anyway. The towels in her arms provided extra space between them as she started to walk right past him. “Excuse me,” she muttered.

He’s just trying to intimidate me. She repeated to herself.

“Round two is about to begin!” She heard announced from behind the door followed by a delighted cheer.

It was nothing.

Jack was just trying to scare her. She hadn't done anything wrong.

All she needed to do was walk by him confidently. Then she would watch Harry win life-changing money. She was home free. Leaning into the door, the metal bar squeaking as it released the hold on the frame to let her through to the main room.

But at the last second, the towels fell from her arm in a heap as he grabbed her arm and yanked her away from the door. “I don’t think so.”

Round two was starting.

Ding.

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I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[essektheylyss]

This was entirely tangential to this post from @utilitycaster which is why this is its own post, but the tags made me think about what feels most compelling about Liliana to me, and it's really because there's such an interesting approach to redemption in terms of the sunk cost fallacy to be had there.

There have been plenty of comparisons between Liliana and Essek, but I don't think they're really situations that can be compared. Essek had done one horrible thing (that was of relevence to the story; it is implied that he's taken other actions that he feels were wrong, but we don't know what those entail nor do the Nein care enough to ask, so per narrative convention, they do not matter for analysis) and was only still involved in it to the extent that he couldn't take it back, so to survive he had to continue covering his tracks. But he was also incentivized to otherwise act in alignment with the group that was not those on behalf of whom he had made terrible choices, because he was still living in the Dynasty, and as such wasn't actively perpetuating those actions beyond the cover up.

Liliana on the other hand is acting with the Vanguard and has been furthering if not personally committing atrocities on their behalf for a number of years, continuing to the present. Like Essek, she believes her involvement in the cause to be a difficult choice that was made for noble reasons, and now can't see a way out. But she is also relieved to be told to stay, though at the point that they discuss her leaving, she is alone and outside the immediate range of contact or oversight from the Vanguard. It seems reasonable that she could disappear with a decent headstart, and perhaps become untraceable quickly enough to be safe from anyone following. With this context, returning to the Vanguard with the intention of feeding information to the opposition feels like the riskier choice, but crucially it is the devil she knows.

I actually liken this more to Cassandra de Rolo than Essek. Cassandra was manipulated against her brother by the Briarwoods, but this was also spurred by having watched Percy seemingly leave her for dead. There are legitimate reasons why the Briarwoods, as the people who rescued her and then kept her alive for many years, are the easier option in which to place her trust. She knows what she's getting from that vantage point and how to handle it. She doesn't inherently have faith that someone she only knew as a young and helpless child, who ran from the hardships she's faced, would have the strength or willingness to do what she has found necessary for survival.

I think that Liliana's actions are more willful, not least because she was not a child nor in mortal peril when she joined the Vanguard, but she sees herself as having made difficult choices when only faced with difficult options, and I do think they have been difficult. She didn't want to leave her family; she doesn't want to hurt the young Ruidusborn under her care; she is probably genuinely sorry that innocent people were considered a necessary sacrifice for what she sees as the greater good. It is psychologically taxing to feel as though one is always picking between bad options, which is a significant contributing factor for why people buy into a sunk cost for so long. And over time, those hard decisions become easier, because you know what to expect from the outcome. Though Liliana is well aware that she might be killed for a misstep among the Vanguard, she already knows how to act to maintain their favor, but how she might be received on Exandria by those fighting the Vanguard, even with the Hells vouching for her, is anyone's guess.

This is a very real reason why people remain in cults and struggle to push back against this kind of conditioning: because the decision to leave feels more immediately perilous than the decision to stay. (On a certain level making these kinds of choices and actions habitual is a fundamental basis behind a lot of military conditioning.) And if you are acting in the interests of your own survival, but that survival comes at the cost of that of countless others who have not, in fact, made any threat or harm against you to begin with, then is the nature of your survival morally defensible?

This analysis isn't a question of whether Liliana will commit to her role as double agent and turn fully against the Vanguard, or even which one of these is a "better" story; this is about what the story might say if she doesn't. Yes, she might commit to a different path than the one she's on and make an effort to redeem herself, but it is also a perfectly coherent and interesting story if she doesn't.

[bonzos-number-1-fan]

TMAGP 29 Thoughts: Lost in Translation

We're at the penultimate episode of the season, folks. It's a surprisingly standard episode given what we had for the last one. It's also a very TMA flavoured one at that. This episode, despite being written by Alex, might have taken the top spot for one that feels the most like an Archives ep. Which isn't a bad thing. Or even a good thing. However it is an enjoyable thing and I thought this episode was really well put together on the whole. Also, fun fact for the non-readers; this episode was originally called "Locked In".

Spoilers for episode 29 below the cut.

Sam's not dead. What a shock. Genuinely, I've no real clue why people thought him dying there was a possibility. It would've been probably the least satisfying death possible for a central character. I am so on board with Sam’s death at some point though. Maybe at the end of act 1 or the midpoint of act 2 in season 3. If only to shut up the small contingent of the fanbase upset over their own invented issues about him being the sole main character whom all other characters exist to support. The gang is off to Hilltop to find all that juicy Magnus lore.

I don't think there is much to get into for Lena and Gwen's exchange here but I do think it's set up for her role in the finale. So I'll cover that later.

I really liked this incident. It felt very classically Magnus to me and was just a really solid self-contained story. It's also a really good one for using the format it's in the the benefit of the narrative being told. The structure of it as a diary and how that's used to show something traumatic happening before it's ever spoken of was very well done. The characters being an older couple also is something I think is really clever too. Not just because it helps explain the diary format. I think in a literal sense this episode doesn't need much of my insights. It was all pretty clear exactly what happened. Old couple redid their proposal holiday to tragic results leading to the survivor taking their own life via magic key. Tale as old as time that one is. There are a few language details to talk about though. The husband was called Stanley Locke. Stanley is a brand of locks. I can only assume that was intentional. The other reason them being old is important to the events is I think a younger couple would've just not gone into the locked museum. Because that's what the place is. Zamčené muzeum isn't a *lock *museum, it's a *locked *museum. Google translate would've solved this whole episode then and there. The major thing to actually talk about here is the incident's placement as the penultimate incident. It's not likely to be a randomly placed one and given it's about opening all sorts of barriers I think it's pretty obviously foreshadowing for our finale. Hilltop has more than one thing needing to be opened. The Institute's secrets, and the gap in reality. It also mirrors [Error]'s introduction as the first thing they do is open a padlock.

Teddy's near-confession is the most interesting thing in this whole episode for my money. Mostly because it's such fertile ground for speculation. There are a lot of ways it could go but there are some facts that I think point us in a direction. He still works at Royal Mint Court/was interviewed for a job there. He's still up all night. He's got a big secret he needs to tell Alice that's important to her current circumstances enough to be urgent. Meaning he therefore has new information he didn't have before he left. Which means where he is now is in a place that could provide said information. The OIAR has more going on behind the scenes than we ever see yet is seemingly staffed by a tiny amount of people. Which points to Teddy maybe still just being at the OIAR. Either just moving up in the organisation and the party was a ruse, or he was headhunted after he left and his work fell through. It could also be a company like Starkwall too, if there is any real difference between the two. Some offshoot of the Institute is also a possibility given the link between Newton and the Royal Mint. Or, he's been scooped up by Klaus.

The final scene here doesn't have an awful lot to comment on. It's somewhat curious that [Error] is able to get around so unseen but we do know she can teleport. I'm assuming she's on the train to get Celia's secrets about the Institute. Plenty of time for that too as London to Oxford is about an hour on the train. Not really anywhere for them to hide either so they're probably pretty fucked.

Now the long wait until next week begins.

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

What sort of penultimate episode post would be complete without some finale predictions? I think there are a fair few pieces in play here and so there are quite a lot of things to speculate on.

I think there are some fairly obvious things that are likely to happen. Celia is going to get [Error]ed and exposition dump about her whole deal. It's got to come out some time and I think in general the show has been foreshadowing this pretty hard with Gwen and Sam both getting [Error]ed. The other major possibility here is that Alice gets got and she's got some secret twisty trauma. If *Connor is her dead name then she *is on CHDB (the Institute's list of children they tested, see the master sheet below) but I would generally hate that. I mean, they might pull it off but I really don't want Alice to have that backstory. She is the character we know the least about so far though and there have been more than a few hints about the fate of her parents. So it's a strong possibility too IMO. Albeit it does mean that Alice would need to catch up with them somehow. Maybe Teddy can give her a lift and we'll hear what was on his mind. Or it's both as this will be a double-length episode so there is room for that.

Speaking of [Error] it seems likely that Celia is going to reveal at least what she knows about Archivists. With [Error] being this season's antagonist it's likely that she's going to get defeated in the finale and as such we'll lose the best opportunity to learn more about her. Revealing that information after she's dealt with is less impactful. They might end up [Error]ing themselves and given a statement, or villain monologuing. It's curious that they're so obviously capable of speech and have said so little though. So I am expecting something to change there.

Hilltop could go a lot of ways. It could be a gaping maw in realities that sucks our cast off to someplace new. It could be nothing but some clues to the Institute's purpose. I don't have much in the way of anything I'd like it to be either. I generally think it'll be the least interesting bit of the finale. The biggest thing it could answer it won't, that being JMJ, and so I'm content to just let that one play out and not think about it too much. In either case Hilltop is likely to play some role in defeating [Error] and if I had to hazard a guess I think it's likely we'll see some of the great cosmology at play here. Both in terms of TMP itself but I think we'll get some hints at how things have changed from TMA/how TMA's things have changed.

I think we're also going to see a good bit of Gwen going being Lena's back too. Assuming we're not going to jump forward in time at all then Gwen is currently alone in the office and is clearly planning things. I don't think we'll necessarily see anything major happen but I do think it's a pretty likely hook for season 2. Either something to do with Klaus or the other strange emails. It's that or Colin is going to break in and cause some havoc. Gwen is the character I most see going along with him on this too. I think that might be a surprising take to some of you but Gwen is unique in that she doesn't actually give a shit about him, and also wants to ruin Lena's career. Colin wrecking the place while she's not there would certainly do some damage to her job stability.

I'm not too sure we'll see much of the other voiced cast. I can't really see a reason for Lena, Teddy, Ink5oul, or anyone else to get involved in the finale. Although Lena could certainly be a big part of the epilogue assuming any of the Gwen stuff goes down like I expect.

Anyway, lots to look forward to.

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

Incident/CAT#R#DPHW Master Sheet and Terminology Sheet

DPHW Theory: 4254 is unremarkable. At this point I really don't know what it'd take to tip my theory on its head.

CAT# Theory: CAT2 is another funny one for the Person/Place/Object idea. The museum was arguably supernatural but the key was obviously supernatural. So if anything this should be CAT3 or potentially a CAT23 but it's just CAT2. If it is P/P/O I'm going to need a really strong explanation for why it sucks so bad.

R# Theory: Yeah, B sounds good to me. Strong physical evidence of a thing happening but nothing that definitively proves the supernatural. Going into the finale this whole theory seems to be holding pretty well. At least for non-Ss. An S could be a lot of things though so we'll see.

Header talk: Drowning (Subterranean) -/- Key (Metaphor) is somewhat interesting in that Key (Metaphor) can be read as the key itself being entirely metaphorical. I think that's fairly obviously wrong but it's interesting. The meaning is more that the key has the ability to open things in a metaphorical sense. It works on more than just doors, after all. So the key itself is real but it works on a looser interpretation of "opening" than just locks and doors. Beyond just that interpretation there is also the metatextual element that the incident itself is metaphorical for what's to come. Assuming it wasn't randomly placed, that is.

[friedbaekhyunandeggso]

found you - ch. 2 (part I)

pairing: gojo satoru x female oc (ara natsuna)

tropes: psycho! rival! athlete! yandere! gojo x introvert! booksmart! oc

warnings: 18+ only babes, profanity, mentions of abusive parental figure, stalking/possessive themes, death, pet-names (princess, kitten, baby), grinding, fingering, dub/non-consented sex, begging, rough sex, creampie (pls don't b silly & cover ur willy irl), manipulation

word count/plot: [9.5k!] ara catches gojo's attention when news breaks that she is the top academically ranked student in their grade. he is ranked second. he tries to befriend her but she ignores him. despite her obvious disinterest, his obsession begins...

a/n: hi guys so yes, i've decided to make this into a mini-series. honestly i was a bit hesitant to post shi like this bc its obv hella messed up/toxic so pls read at ur own risk. i also want to mention that it is never my intention to glamorize or romanticize a relationship like this-this is simply a dark "romance"/smut story that i happen to write in my free time. i also split this chapter into 2 parts bc it got too long LOL. The second part of this chapter is already written so hopefully i can edit and upload it fast enough but pls look forward to that!

ch. 1 , chapter 2 [ part 1 | part 2 ]

“No. fucking. way.” Millie gasped through the phone, “You had sex with Gojo?”

Ara lowered her phone as she shot a nervous glance towards her bedroom door. It was the weekend so her Dad was home.

She raised the phone to her ear again, whispering-her tone laced with disappointment, “I just told you that Gojo might’ve hurt Noel, Jaemin and Arman just for talking to me and that’s what you're worried about?”

“Wait, you didn’t hear? Jaemin’s dead.”

Ara froze, “What.”

“You left when the cops came but when they searched the house they found his dead body in Nanami’s freezer.”

Ara went silent in shock as Millie continued, “Yeah, there’s like a whole fucking investigation going on. Nanami was pisssssedddd. Poor guy’s probably never gonna throw a party again.”

Ara sputtered, “What-how is that even-“ Ara shook her head, “Is Jaemin really dead?”

“Yes, girl. Why would I lie about that?”

Ara’s heart pounded in her chest. “I-I can’t believe it.”

“Yeah, it’s fucking insane. His pretty face will be missed-but how the fuck do you lock yourself in a freezer?”

Ara’s eyes widened, “He didn’t.”

“He did.”

“No-no, I’m saying he didn’t lock himself in. Someone else could’ve locked him in.”

Ara closed her eyes, fear making her voice waver, “It was probably Gojo.”

“What? Are you serious, Ara.. There’s no fucking way. I get the guy’s into you but that would just be extra.”

Ara swallowed, “Millie—“

“You really think Gojo would do all that cuz Jaemin talked to you?” she asked, doubtfully.

Ara spoke fast, “Yes, he was the one who laced Arman’s drink as well.”

“What? No way. Everyone knows Arman’s took Molly before, he probably overdid it and sent his own bitchass to the hospital.”

“Millie, you don’t understand. He showed me the Molly he used to lace his drink.”

“Huh—Girl, I know you're not super crazy about Gojo and yeah, he’s a total narc but he’s not the type to do that or commit murder.” she stated, flippantly.

Ara’s heart sank.

Millie continued, “Anyway, tell me how the hell you lost your virginity to him because that’s like, major.”

Ara closed her eyes once-more, her brows furrowing, “It wasn’t my choice.” she gritted out.

Suddenly she heard someone call Millie’s name through the phone.

“Shit, my mom’s calling me—“

“Wait,” Ara nearly yelled but quickly clamped her hand over her mouth-eyeing her bedroom door nervously. Her Dad could enter at any second if he wanted to.

“What?”

“I-I need plan B.” she whispered. (a/n: if u don’t know what plan B is, it’s a contraceptive)

Millie gasped, “For real? Jesus—y’all went at it, huh? No condom?!”

Ara squeezed her eyes shut, “Millie, I’m serious.”

“Shit, I don’t know if I can get it to you today. My brother’s out of town so he took the car but-why don’t you ask Gojo?”

“I did-“

Suddenly there was a knock on her window and Ara froze, her head swiveling to see a shadow behind the curtain. He was here.

Ara swallowed, “I-I gotta go.”

“Shit-okay, okay, I’ll try to get it to you by Monday, okay? You better tell me all the details about you and Gojo on the bus.”

Suddenly the sound of the window opening could be heard and Ara quickly ended the call.

Gojo popped his head from around the curtain and stepped out, a bright smile on his lips as he ran a hand through his tousled white hair.

“C’mon, princess—when you gonna open the window on the first knock?”

He had stayed over the whole night since the party. He’d even wanted to shower with her-which she adamantly refused. She just wanted him to leave.

He finally left this morning, telling her some excuse that she didn’t care for—she just needed him to go. She just hadn’t expected him to be back, especially so soon.

He tossed a McDonald’s bag onto her bed.

“You hungry? There’s fries in there. I don’t want em, I just wanted the apple pie. There’s one in there for you too.”

Ever since he entered he kept walking towards her and she kept stepping back.

He went still before raising a brow, “What’re you doing, kitten?”

Her throat felt dry as she stuttered out, “Y-you shouldn’t be here, my Dad’s home. He’s awake.”

“So? Isn’t your door locked?”

“He has a key.”

He smirked, smugly, “I’ll hide if he comes.”

He searched her face before adding, “Happy?”

When she didn’t respond-merely rooted in spot-he tilted his head, “Now let me give my baby a hug.”

Before she could move he sauntered over and pulled her into a hug. Due to her shorter height he had to hunch over to press his face into her neck—planting kisses under her jaw. His hands caressing her sides.

He squeezed her hips while nuzzling his nose further into her neck, “Just wanna squeeze you to death.”

His words sent a shot of fear through her body.

And yet, his intoxicating cologne filled her nostrils—the scent so inviting and rich it was almost seductive. The slight masculine husk at the end of the scent only enhanced its effect. He’d changed his clothes to a simple long sleeve and pants. The shiny watch on his wrist glimmered.

She pushed herself out of his grasp, shaking slightly. His blue eyes attentive as he stared at her.

“I- I need plan B.”

A grin split across his lips, “You’re still on that, kitten?”

“I’m not joking, Gojo. I can’t get pregnant.”

He reached over, placing his hand over her stomach. His hand so large it felt like he covered most of her torso.

“We’re both adults now, aren’t we? We’ll make it work—“

She shoved his hand off.

His grin widened, “You think your tits would get bigger?”

“That’s not funny.” she spat, face flushed, “I need plan B, Gojo—I’m not joking.”

Suddenly he moved towards her, easily cupping the sides of her face as he kissed the top of her head.

“Okay, okay—so stubborn,”

She trembled in his hold but did her best to not wrench herself away just yet. She needed to get him to bring it for her. She looked up at him.

He was already looking down at her, “Be a good kitten and I’ll think about it.” he mused.

He slipped his thumb past her lips and her eyes widened. His other hand moved to her nape-to hold her in place.

“Suck.” he ordered gently.

When she didn’t move, his fingers at her nape tightened, “Or do you want the real thing?”

She wrenched herself away from him. Fear bouncing within her body as she stared at him, out of breath.

His eyes flashed with desire as he stared down at his glistening thumb, “If you weren’t sore I’d fuck you so hard right now.” he murmured.

He’d tried to fuck her again last night. But the second he cupped her cunt, she’d writhed so bad—he decided to listen to her little mewls and whines. He figured she was sore due to the number he’d done on her.

He lowered his hand before looking at her, “I’m leaving. I won’t be back till Monday.”

She was frozen—keeping her face as blank as possible to not show her relief.

He stepped towards her, cupping her chin to keep her looking up at him, “You better answer my texts, okay? Don’t make me upset.”

She swallowed before nodding.

A light smile slipped across his lips, “Good girl.”

He bent low, tilting his face to kiss her. She fought the urge to wrench her face away. Her lips trembled as he pressed his lips into hers—letting him nibble on her bottom lip before he pulled back.

The small smile still on his lips, “Don’t miss me too much.”

She nodded slowly.

His eyes dropped to her lips once-again, his hand slipping around her back to draw her chest flush against him. She fought the urge to wince when she felt his hard-on press into her lower belly through his jeans.

Her heart raced a mile per minute as she looked up at him. She was terrified.

His hand on her chin slid to her cheek, his thumb playing with her bottom lip.

“So pretty, kitten. Too pretty,” he mused.

His hand on her back slid down to her ass, giving it a nice squeeze. She jolted a bit, a slight gasp leaving her lips.

“M’gonna miss you so much.” he muttered, before kissing her once more. His lips more insistent this time.

He finally pulled away, his eyes wistful as he looked her up and down.

“Don’t know how I’m gonna go without you.” he spoke huskily.

She closed her eyes, locking her jaw as he showered a trail of kisses down her temple to her neck. Each kiss making her pulse go faster.

His lips found hers once more, giving her one last kiss before finally stepping back, his face flushed and lips parted—as if he didn’t want to be done. His blazing blue eyes were half-lidded and hazy with lust.

She shivered.

He raised his hand to playfully tap her nose.

An easygoing smirk slipped across his lips, “See you at school, princess.”

She swallowed before looking away from him and nodding. School? How am I gonna face him at school? Just thinking about it made her uneasy.

He turned around and pushed the curtains aside. He easily pulled the window open and jumped out, disappearing downwards somewhere.

She waited a beat before running towards the window. She looked around to see that he was nowhere to be seen.

She swiftly closed the window and pulled the curtains over.

She stood still for a moment before falling to her knees. She felt like a complete mess. She covered her face with her hands.

What do I do?

Everyone was talking about Nanami’s party. Everyone.

People seemed worried, confused and shocked. Especially after it came out that Arman had died. He supposedly went into a coma at first and then his heart had completely stopped.

An unnecessary amount of police officers loitered the halls. They were calling in students-that had reportedly been to the party-to the office. Luckily, she hadn’t been called in yet.

To say Ara felt sick wouldn’t be covering it. She felt absolutely morbid. First, Jaemin and now, Arman. She had hoped that Arman would make it. Noel hadn’t shown up to school either.

The rumors were spreading like wildfire. Everyone seemed to think that Jaemin locking himself in the freezer was a drunk accident. As well as Arman overdosing. Just a bad mistake. But Ara knew the truth. Gojo had flat out told her.

But would anyone believe me?

She frowned as she remembered Millie’s reaction. She had completely thought she was crazy. Even when she’d met her on the bus and she tried to bring it up again, Millie dismissed it—saying that she must've been envisioning things because she was crossed. She even went as far as saying that she would trust Gojo with her drink.

As-fucking-if!

All Millie had wanted to know was how her and Gojo’s night had gone. Ara didn’t even bother trying to express that he’d forced himself on her. Simply just saying that he was horrible in bed and that she never wanted it to happen again. Millie had been astonished.

As much as Ara wanted to be mad at the girl she couldn’t help but be grateful for her because she brought her the contraceptive that she asked for. She was terrified of having waited too long to take one. She had googled it and heard that they were the most effective the sooner they were taken.

She needed to take it as soon as possible.

She stepped out of the classroom, readjusting her bag’s strap over her shoulder. She walked quickly down the hall.

She slowed down her pace when she turned the hall and saw a policeman walking down the opposite way. Her throat went dry.

For a second her mind wandered to what would happen if she just stopped the police officer and told him everything. From top to bottom what happened at the party—Noel’s and Arman’s parents deserved to know the truth. And the students deserved to know that their fellow ‘heart-throb’ classmate was a psychopath murderer.

And maybe she could get justice for herself—before it was too late.

But admitting that meant it was definitely going to get back to her father. And if her father had even heard about her whereabouts that night.. what she’s done and seen…

She stopped in the middle of the hall, indecision making her tense up.

The officer frowned, stopping mid-step before approaching her.

“You okay, miss—“

“Officer Miles!” a familiar, enthusiastic voice greeted from down the hall.

Ara’s heart stopped.

The officer’s face lit up, “If it isn’t Gojo Satoru.”

She took a couple steps back to watch Gojo approach the Officer, greeting him with a pat on the shoulder before effortlessly roping him into a conversation.

It was common knowledge that Gojo’s father was the past Director of National Intelligence for the former President. Despite that, money had always been flooding in his family for generations. Eitherway, it wasn’t unexpected that Gojo knew the cop by name because his family was closely integrated with law enforcement. It seemed not only on a federal level but also local.

Her throat was drier than the Sahara desert as she quickly scurried away—barely looking in Gojo’s direction. She did not need to catch his attention right now-but in the back of her mind she knew she had.

Questions ran in her mind a mile per minute. Did he interrupt the police officer on purpose? Did he know I was considering snitching? Does he think I’m gonna snitch? Is he going to ask me about it later—

She shook her head. She needed to focus on getting to the bathroom right now and downing that contraceptive pill—worry about everything else later.

She entered the bathroom and sighed in relief when she found it was empty. She glanced back to make sure no one was behind her-she felt the need to, for some reason.

Her heart raced as she placed her backpack on the counter before pausing when she realized maybe she should take the pill in the bathroom stall. That way if anyone entered the bathroom no one could see her.

She quickly went into the bathroom stall only for a hand to stop the door a second before it closed. Suddenly Gojo stood before her, locking the stall closed behind himself.

His platinum hair was left in its typical ruffled state. His uniform was perfectly ironed, as usual. His classic black sunglasses peeked out of his dress-shirt’s chest pocket. And his scent, that masculine, deep yet alluring cologne that felt too expensive to be filling the air between them.

Her eyes widened in fear. She was certain he was going to be angry-he’d just seen her almost speak to the police officer. There was no way he wasn’t—

“Fuck, I missed you so much, baby.” he cooed.

He reached out to touch her and she immediately backed away, despite the small space.

Her heart raced in terror. “Gojo, w-what are you doing?”

“What else? I saw you in the hall and followed you. You saw me too—“ he pouted, “but you ignored me, meanie.”

He reached out to grasp her chin, making her look up at him, “You didn’t miss me?”

She could hear her heart pounding in her ears. He felt too large in the cramped space of the bathroom stall. Her body had broken out in a cold-sweat.

Her instincts screamed at her to get as far away from him as possible—and yet, she was terrified to do anything too rash. She was still in shock that he hadn’t suspected her of snitching on him.

Fear made her voice waver as she looked into his intimidating, diamond-like cerulean eyes. She felt like they were going to swallow her whole.

“Gojo…”

His platinum brows drew together at her shakiness, “Yeah, kitten?”

She locked her jaw, hating the concern in his eyes. She was terrified to even bring this up but she knew she had to.

“Arman and Jaemin—they’re dead, Gojo. They’re dead.” her voice cracked.

Something dark seemed to blaze within his eyes before his fingers tightened around her chin.

His voice was tight, “You worried about them?”

She grabbed his wrist, attempting to pull away from his grasp.

“You killed them.” she spat-an undercurrent of hopelessness in her fierce tone.

Before he could respond the sound footsteps entering the bathroom was audible. Her eyes widened.

Suddenly his hands were on her, turning her around so that her back was flush against his chest. Her heart jumped in terror when she felt his hard-on against her lower back.

Just as she gasped, his hand clamped around her mouth. He leaned low, his lips brushing her ear with each word he spoke, “They died because of you.”

She writhed in his grasp, only to easily have her head shoved back against his chest by his hand on her mouth. His other hand pressed into her lower belly, making him feel more of his erection—this time against her ass.

“Don’t make a fuss, kitten, you don’t want anyone to hear you now, do we?” he whispered into her ear.

Her eyes widened as she heard feminine voices speaking a short distance away.

His hand at her navel slipped down to her leg, slipping right around her upper thigh to hoist her smaller frame higher so he could press his throbbing erection fully against her ass.

He began to grind his cock against her.

“Mmm, missed you so much.” he muttered, lowly.

Just as she made short noises of protest, his hand squeezed around her mouth. “Don’t whine, kitten. It’s your fault I’m hard. I couldn’t stop thinking about you all weekend.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, locking her jaw as she tried not to be too loud despite wanting to desperately get away from him. The feeling of his hard-on sliding between her ass was the oddest sensation.

“F-fuck,” he gritted out in a harsh whisper.

His hand on her upper thigh slid to her cunt, his fingers rubbing against her clit through her underwear. She jolted in his grasp-a light squeak leaving her lips.

The feminine voices in the bathroom went quiet.

Gojo froze-only to continue rubbing at her sweet spot when the voices resumed. He chuckled darkly in her ear.

She writhed against him as his fingers worked her clit through her underwear. She bit back the squeals threatening to leave her lips at each of his ministrations.

Her hands went to his at her core, attempting to shove his wrist away but he released her mouth to clasp both of her wrists in one hand. He held her hands to chest.

She attempted to get his hand away from her cunt by squeezing her legs together but instead his fingers dipped deeper into her core. Another low chuckle left his lips when she gasped.

His hand gripping her wrists tightened, “You’ve got to stay quiet now, kitten-since you wanna act so bad.”

She bit into her lower lip when he slipped a finger into her warmth. Somehow she was incredibly warm down there-almost slippery-wet.

She felt his chest vibrate when he groaned into her neck. She clenched her teeth when she felt his hard-on throb behind her. He began to grind himself against her once-more.

She resisted the urge to squeal when his finger slipped deeper inside her. His finger was just too long. Her body jolted when he slipped another in.

“Ha-aah,” he bucked his hard-on further into her, “So warm.” he groaned.

He nipped on her ear as he rubbed his cock against her, letting himself fully revel in the soft curve of her ass. Her breathing was all over the place as his actions made her cunt squeeze tightly around his fingers.

He stopped grinding against her, instead bending lower to drop a kiss to her temple. His fingers moved within her.

“You need some attention down here, don’t you?”

His fingers in her cunt began to pump in and out of her. Her body jerked forward—if it weren’t for his hand pinning her wrists to her chest she would’ve certainly fallen over.

His fingers never left her cunt, only traveling deeper when she jerked forward.

“You know,” his voice husky at her ear, “You never came last time.”

His fingers pumped in and out of her faster. She glanced down to see her skirt bunched up and a hint of her underwear shoved aside for his fingers to gain access to her cunt. His fist was slick with her wetness as he pumped in and out of her.

“Need to change that.” he spoke lowly into her ear.

Her thighs squeezed around him.

Suddenly the sound of the bathroom doors closing echoed. Before she could even think to get away from him, his hand at her cunt ripped off her underwear. Her body buckled at the action but he gripped her hip to steady her.

He then straightened up, letting go of her hip to unbuckle himself.

“Can’t wait anymore.”

Her eyes widened in realization and she shoved herself away from him. She struggled against his hold on her wrists but managed to make him let go.

Just as she moved towards the door, her head was slammed against the stall wall. His hand was at her nape, holding her still against the door. He pushed her head lower, making her ass stick out.

He flipped her skirt up, revealing her bare, slick cunt. He shoved the full length of his cock in her.

She cried out. His hand slid around her nape to her jaw—cupping her mouth. Her body writhed at the sensation of feeling so stuffed.

She shivered when she heard a low, relieved sigh leave his lips. His dick twitched within her.

He slammed his cock into her once more-making her body buck against the door. She cried out into his hand, turning her face aside to reach around and place her hand on him anywhere—in attempt to stop him.

Before her hands could make contact, he grabbed both of her wrists in one of his once-more. Pinning her wrists to her back.

She squealed when he delivered another harsh thrust of his hips to her bruised cunt.

“N-no, Gojo-please-please, not here..” she begged-her low voice muffled by his fingers.

His hand around her wrists squeezed. He bent over her, pressing his dick deep into her as he did so. The tip of his cock seating itself in places no one else had been. She writhed against the stall door.

He spoke right beside her ear, “I’ll keep your hands cuz you’re still being bad.”

“Gojo, please, let me go. Let me go.” she whisper-cried.

“Call me Satoru, princess, Satoru.”

She closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks. How did I get here?

“Please..” she begged, helplessly.

His cock pumped in and out of her slowly. She felt her wetness travel down her thighs.

“C’mon, say it.” he urged, like a devil in her ear. “Satoru.”

She was silent, merely taking in the sensation of his cock fucking her slowly as quietly as she could.

Suddenly his cock snapped into her sharply, making her wince as she cried out. The tip of his cock hit somewhere deep enough to hurt, though she couldn’t deny the jolt of pleasure that ran up her spine.

“Please!” she whimpered.

His hand on her mouth tightened, “Say it.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, “S-satoru-“

Suddenly his cock slammed into her again and again—much, much rougher. Her body bucked against the stall doors. Tiny gasps leaving her mouth with each rough fuck. The sound of his balls hitting her cunt echoing within the bathroom.

“Again.” he ordered huskily into her ear.

“S-satoru.” she mumbled, her mind going blank.

His pace picked up. His cock pulsating appreciatively in her cunt. She swore it’d grown in size.

She moaned, her thighs squeezing together in pain.

“Ha-aah,” he breathed into her ear, his cock pummeling into her so hard she forgot how to think.

“Sounds so fuckin’ pretty coming from your mouth.” his voice rough against her ear.

Her cunt squeezed around him once more and he groaned. He ground his cock into her, letting the tip of his cock touch places that felt too deep for her. Suddenly he withdrew his hips, keeping his cock halfway buried in her before shoving his full length into her again.

Her body jerked against the door again, wincing, “Gojo!”

“Satoru.” he corrected, darkly before delivering a series of deep fucks at an unwarranted pace.

Her mind was too fucked out to think.

His cock moved too fast—too deep within her. Accessing spots she didn’t think possible. His cock felt too thick, too hard-pulsing as he moved roughly in her slick walls.

“How can you ask me to let you go when you feel like this?” he gritted out.

Just then, his cock hit a spot she didn’t know existed. The tip of his cock simply pressing a spot so delicious she crumpled in his grasp. Her whole body shook so hard, she lost all her balance. 

She was too shocked to moan. Simply letting her body quiver as Gojo slid his hand down from her mouth to her neck, pulling her flat against him to hold her up.

He kept-up his rough pace, only slowing down when her body stopped quivering. She was completely out of breath, simply too overwhelmed.

He released her neck, letting his hand slide lower to squeeze her tits through her uniform.

“Fuck, that’s it, kitten.” He closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling of how her cunt continued to spasm around him. The feeling was heavenly, especially coming from the narrow space of her cunt around him.

He palmed her hard nipple, “I made my pretty princess feel good, didn’t I?”

Her cunt walls twitched from the aftereffects of her first orgasm—from anyone that wasn’t herself.

He drove his cock into her once more. Making her groan in pain. Bits of pleasure scattered throughout her body as his cock began to slowly thrust into her.

Her arms were still at a rather uncomfortable angle, pinned behind her back-causing her to arch against him. The angle all too perfect for his cock to continue abusing her cunt.

He pressed a deft kiss to her temple, “I know it hurts, baby, but it hurt too good just now, didn’t it?”

His cock gradually thrusted faster into her, “I’ll keep making you feel good.”

She couldn’t find it in her to speak. Simple too mind blown and worn-out by the overwhelming sense of pleasure she’d just experienced. It was almost scary how good she’d felt.

She winced as his cock seemed to take full advantage of how soft her cunt had grown. Her insides felt completely messed up as his cock pumped in and out of her.

His fingers tightened around her neck before he buried his face into her hair, “Missed you so much.” 

Suddenly he thrusted into her far too deep, searing his cock completely into her. Her soft insides squeezing around him so tight, his cockhead twitched.

She felt the entirety of his cock pulsate before feeling spurts of something warm fill the narrow space between her legs. The substance all too sticky as it slipped down her legs, simply already too full inside.

Her eyes were wide in shock as he slowly thrusted into her a couple more times—letting her feel his cock twitch till it didn’t anymore.

Finally he went still, his breath completely haggard as he removed his face from her hair.

His diamond blue eyes scanned the side of her face before he slowly withdrew his hips from her. Just as his cockhead was about to slip out of her, he slammed himself back inside.

She flinched, moaning.

His fingers on her neck caressed her, “Sorry, baby, don’t wanna go just yet. Feels too good.”

She stood still for a moment. Completely stunned to silence as she caught her breath. She was absolutely terrified of how to proceed.

She squeezed her eyes shut-wanting to sob. He came in me again.

She slowly wriggled her hips, “L-let me go.” she whispered.

His hand on her neck tightened before he nuzzled his face into her shoulder.

“No.” he whined, reluctantly.

He pressed his cock into her slightly, making her shiver. He stayed like that for a moment before finally pulling out. He took his absolute time, dragging out the action enough for the sound to echo in the quiet bathroom when his cock finally popped out of her.

Her body trembled when she felt that familiar substance leak down her inner thighs. She glanced down to see streaks of white lining the insides of her leg.

Her insides twisted at the sight.

“Made a mess, didn’t I.” he muttered before reaching over to swipe a streak of his cum and stuff his finger into her. She jolted sensitively.

“Want you to keep every drop.” he mused through gritted teeth.

She immediately stepped away from him, yanking her hands from his grasp to turn around. She stood with her back pressed to the stall door.

His hands went to her hips to keep her upright as she stumbled.

“Baby.” he warned, subtly admonishing her for moving too fast.

She shoved his hand away, “Don’t call me that.”

A handsome grin split across his lips, “You like kitten better?”

Her eyes widened at the playfulness in his tone. She couldn’t understand how he was like this.

She sharply looked away, not wanting to look at his half-erect cock that he still hadn’t tucked away.

She quickly reached for the stall’s lock—the urge to get away from him growing stronger by the second. He blocked her hand a second before she could touch it.

“You’re not gonna clean yourself up?” he asked before his spare hand squeezed her hip. “Naughty girl.”

“I’ll clean you up.” he added.

She shoved herself out of his grasp. “I can clean myself up.” she spat-unsuccessfully trying to keep the shakiness out of her tone, “J-just get out.”

“Ara-“

“Get. out.” she bit out before whispering, “please.”

He was quiet for a moment, she couldn’t see his face due to facing aside. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

“Fine,” his voice was low, “Only if you look at me first.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, resisting the urge to scream. Instead she spoke-even quieter than him, “T-then zip up your pants.”

She thought she heard a faint chuckle before the sound of a zipper was audible in the silence.

She opened her eyes, facing him.

His face was completely devoid of emotion. The only emotion was a touch of softness swimming within his sky-blue eyes.

He cupped the left side of her face, “Don’t be mad at me, okay?”

She resisted the urge to flinch. She wanted to say so much but she was scared-terribly, terribly scared. He could react so differently-it gave her whiplash.

He pressed his forehead to hers, “I just missed you so much. I got so happy when you texted me y’know, but it wasn’t enough. I need you. Just you.”

She hated how strained he sounded, as if he were helpless to his impulses. As if those words could justify his actions. She had texted him over the weekend-her responses short, dry and inconsistent compared to his timely, emoticon-filled ones. She was just scared of what he would do if she didn’t.

Not that it mattered because he ruined her the second he saw her anyway.

“I just like you too much.” he murmured.

She squeezed her eyes shut-wanting to cry.

He pushed his forehead further into her, “Talk to me.” he urged.

Her lower lip wobbled before she burst out-unable to hold back as she whispered, “Y-you’re hurting me.”

His sterling blue eyes widened as he searched her face, wildly, “No-no, I made you feel good, didn’t I? Tell me-tell me what-“

Suddenly the bell rang and his expression grew distraught. They both knew the bathrooms were bound to fill up in seconds during the five minute breaks between classes.

She resisted the urge to shove him back, merely facing elsewhere instead. Her rapid heartbeat making it hard for her to focus.

“Shit, kitten, we’ll finish this convo after school, okay? Or later-at your house, okay?”

She froze at the idea of him coming to her house again.

“Okay?” he insisted.

She nodded, quickly. He pressed a deft kiss to her lips before unlocking the stall door and stepping out.

She stood still for a long moment after that-biting into her lower lip to resist the urge to break down and cry.

She shakily reached into her backpack, pulling out the contraceptive with trembling hands. She hoped-prayed-it worked. Out of all nightmares occurring in her life, she needed the nightmare that was pregnancy to not become real.

She was shuffling around the books in her locker. Too lost in a funk to realize she was already holding the book she was looking for in her hand.

“Ara Natsuna?” an unfamiliar voice spoke from nearby.

She looked over to see a girl she didn’t recognize, but from the aura the girl exuded she had to be a junior or a senior, like herself.

“..Yes?” she croaked out, before clearing her throat.

She hated the once-over the girl gave her. She didn’t miss the look of judgment that passed over the girl's face-though it did nothing to her state of confidence because her father's looks of judgment were much worse.

But she couldn’t blame the girl. She knew her skirt was slightly rumpled after what Gojo had done to her in the bathroom hours prior—and her eyes were probably still swollen despite the countless amount of times she’d splashed water on her face.

She just wanted to go home.

Instead of saying some nasty comment, the girl merely smiled. A smile so wide that Ara immediately saw through its fakeness.

“Are you and Gojo dating?” she inquired, with an innocent blink of her eyes.

Ara was instantly stunned.

It was then she noticed that a couple of the surrounding students were eavesdropping on their convo. Some were trying to be discrete but after one look at her surroundings it was rather obvious.

She spotted the girl’s friends huddled a little distance away, staring eagerly. It looked like a little fan club of juniors-or underclassmen.

Are you fucking serious?

Ara spoke fast, “What makes you ask me that?”

The girl’s eyelashes fluttered-Does that really work?—“Gojo said it.”

Ara wanted to scream-but instead her response was impulsive. Her voice tight, “No. We aren’t dating and we never will.”

She slammed her locker closed, not bothering to look back as she fast-walked down the hall. She needed this day to end.

I need to get rid of him.

Ara squeezed her eyes shut—terrified out of her mind. She’d come up with a short term-very half-assed-plan in the midst of doing her school work earlier.

She didn’t know how she’d managed to complete all her homework but she had. If there was one thing she wasn’t willing to fuck up it was her grades. Sure, she had her dad on her ass about them but it was her only ticket out of ‘here’—aka this hellhole called her family house and now high school. She needed to go to a good college-far, far away from here.

She glanced back at the window before hesitantly opening her bedroom door. It was a weekday so her Dad usually slept early. She peeked through to see her Dad’s bedroom light turn off through the crack underneath the door.

Perfect.

Her heart raced as she grabbed her pillow and blanket from the bed. She knew Gojo was going to try come over today and she was going to do everything in her power to avoid it, if possible. She knew she shouldn’t trigger him—that she should think of a better plan but she couldn’t help but feel bile rise up into her throat whenever she thought of him. So acting on her short-term plan would do.

She just didn’t want to see him.

She stepped out of her room and wandered downstairs. She was going to sleep in the basement. Lucky for her, the basement was furnished but she was sure when Gojo arrived he wouldn’t go there.

At first she had contemplated trying to find a way to lock the window—but it was no use, the lever on the window was broken. She wasn’t sure when that happened but she wouldn’t put it past Gojo to have done it on purpose.

Then she had contemplated sleeping in the living room and finding a way to lock her bedroom door from the outside-but then she knew Gojo would automatically know she was locking him out and she was terrified of what reaction that might invoke.

So she settled on simply sleeping elsewhere in the house-the basement. She would simply lock the basement from the inside and sleep within. She was sure he was going to search the house but she refused to think too hard about it. She almost hoped her Dad would catch him sneaking about. She just had to be cautious of making sure her Dad didn’t catch her sleeping in the basement.

Gojo had called twice and texted several times since school had ended. Giving her short random updates of his day and asking about hers but she hadn’t responded. She wanted to block him but she was scared—too damn scared. She was relieved he didn’t seem too angry over text just yet though.

But she knew she was playing with fire.

She shivered when she entered the basement. The heating wasn’t the best down here but it would have to do. She quickly locked the door before laying out her pillow and blanket on the couch and laying down.

Her fear made it hard for her to feel relaxed enough to sleep. She rubbed her eyes, a wave of exhaustion overcoming her.

She was so tired of feeling scared. First her Dad and now Gojo. When is it all gonna end?

She sighed, sleep overcoming her rather quickly as her mind wandered to dark places.

She hastily closed her bedroom window before falling to her knees. Her legs trembled as she buried her face in her hands.

Her plan had worked. She hadn’t seen Gojo last night—and she muted his messages so she didn’t see the 150+ unread messages he’d sent her throughout the night. But she was scared shitless—she didn’t want to go to school.

She’d set an alarm to wake up before her Dad so she could make it back to her bedroom in time-in case he decided to check on her. She was terrified that she might find Gojo in her room but he was nowhere to be seen. The only thing that signaled he might’ve been there was the curtains being pushed aside. She tried not to think about it too hard.

But it all came crashing down on her when she was trudging to the bus stop in the morning. She had been staring at the home screen of her phone, at the daunting number of 157 at the corner of her message app. She knew who all 157 of those texts were from. It didn’t help that there were about 23 missed calls either.

And she realized she couldn’t go to school. She knew-knew-something bad was going to happen. He’d violated her in school before so what was going to stop him from doing it again?

She started to sob.

The little voice in the back of mind reminded her that she needed to call the school before they called her Dad to notify him of her absence. She’d only done it twice before, but sometimes she pretended to be her Mom and call the school about her absence before they contacted her actual parents.

She threw her backpack off. She was so tired of having to worry about things like this. She felt like everything she did she had to overthink because of the egg-shells she had to walk around with everyone. It was exhausting.

Everything she did could cause a reaction. Like sleeping anywhere but her room would not only upset Gojo but her Dad. Just like taking a day off from school would make her Dad livid. So much so, that she avoided coming back home through the front door because she knew her Dad would see it through the camera.

Why couldn’t her life just be normal?

And now-on top of everything-she had a killer obsessed with her.

Why is this happening to me?

She wiped her tears, frustration making her weary despite her rather pleasant sleep. For some reason, she’d slept decently in the basement-even if she’d woken up in a cold sweat.

She slowly stood up, forcing herself to head downstairs and grab the home phone to call the school in the best Mom voice she could muster. Her Mom was still out of the country. Lucky her.

She plopped onto the couch in the living room. She grabbed the home phone from the coffee table and cleared her throat, making the call in the most assertive, motherly tone she could.

Once the call ended, she laid back against the couch. She turned on the TV for some background noise. The several churning emotions running rampant within her making her feel completely worn out.

She closed her eyes, telling herself that she’d just relax for a bit, only to become lulled into a deep slumber.

The sound of the TV turning off woke her up. She blinked, sitting up groggily as she looked at her reflection in the dark screen of the TV.

She squinted when she noticed a tall, white-haired male standing behind the couch-behind her.

Gojo.

She bolted up, scrambling to the other side of the living room.

His expression was blank as he watched her stand in front of the TV. Her eyes blown wide in fear.

He tilted his head, strands of his icy hair falling over his forehead in the process, “You’re avoiding me.”

She didn’t like how flat his tone was. Or how absurdly imperfect he looked. He always looked perfect but his hair was more messed up than usual, his uniform’s blazer nowhere to be seen-not that he ever wore it in the first place-and his dress-shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbow, showcasing the prominent veins crawling up his forearms.

He held up her phone and her heart jumped to her throat.

“You changed your lockscreen,” he mused, before a dry chuckle slipped out of him.

He had changed her home and lock screen to a shirtless mirror selfie of himself in her bathroom. An obvious thirst trap. He’d taken the picture the night he stayed over after their 'first time'. She assumed she was asleep when he changed it.

“Fine, I can take that but.. ignoring my calls, my texts-“ another dry, incredulous chuckle leaving his lips, “-you didn’t even open them. In fact, you muted me—and now you don’t show up at school?”

Her throat went dry. She had no choice but to assume he either knew her phone password or used her Face ID to unlock her phone while she was asleep. Eitherway, he clearly had seen that she silenced his notifications.

Suddenly his intricate blue eyes zoned in on her, any humor in his voice dissolving, “Where did you sleep, Ara.”

Her breath stopped short.

His eyes never left hers-his half-lidded gaze would’ve made him appear bored if his tone wasn’t so offhandedly calm, “I know you were home, but where.”

She took a hesitant step backwards.

He took a step around the couch, playing with her phone in one hand. “I know you weren’t with Millie so where’d you go? Did you leave your phone here and go somewhere?”

She couldn’t believe it. He must’ve activated her phone location.

His gaze hardened, “I’m asking you something, Ara.”

She couldn’t find it in herself to respond. How the hell am I supposed to respond to that?

Her whole body was alert with fear. She wanted to run but she was terrified he would outrun her. He was an athlete after all.

She hadn’t missed that the wire attached to the home phone on the coffee table was now disconnected. Undoubtedly, his work.

She needed to think ofsomething-anything to get out of this situation. And because she couldn’t think, she simply acted.

She ran so far down into the downstairs hallway, swerving into a turn into a wall. She was certain he could’ve easily chased her if he chose too but he somehow hadn’t.

She thought she heard a faint chuckle a distance away-probably still in the living room.

“Okay, we can play the cat and mouse game,” his voice seemed to carry into the hall, “but I’ll tell you right now, Ara. You won’t win.”

“I’ll always find you.”

Her body seemed to go cold at his words. She couldn’t go on like this-she needed a plan. She contemplated running straight for the front door-it would alert the front door cameras and automatically notify her Dad of her presence at home.

But contacting her Dad made her throat constrict. It didn’t help that Gojo might be anticipating that course of action.

She trembled. Maybe the back-door? Through the garage? But that meant passing the living room. He could still be there.

She had to do something. She had to try and check.

She slowly walked further down the hall, turning to peek into the living room from the opposite turn of the corridor. He was nowhere in sight.

Her heart jumped in her chest. Her gut told her not to do it—to not run across the living room. She was certain he was near. Her gut told her he was anticipating it.

But what he wouldn’t anticipate was her going upstairs. There was nowhere to get out upstairs. Except for the balcony attached to her Dad’s office and the master bedroom. Then there was her room window.

She dashed up the stairs as quietly as she could. A scream nearly ripping from her throat when she swore she saw his blurry figure move downstairs from the corner of her eye.

She ran into the guest bedroom, before scurrying into its attached bathroom. She quickly stepped into the bathtub, pulling the shower curtain to hide herself.

Fuck! That was too loud!

She silently jumped out-her heart pounding in her ears as she hastily stepped into the bathroom’s walk-in pantry. She slipped inside, hiding behind the pantry door just as the bathroom door opened.

She stopped breathing, watching his tall figure through the crack beside the door. The look of precision and focus in his gaze was unlike anything she’d ever seen. His straight posture exuding lethality.

His footsteps were soundless as he walked over to the bathtub. He harshly pulled back the curtain—making her flinch.

He stood there for a second before opening the other bathroom door. This bathroom was attached to two guest bedrooms.

He didn’t spare the rest of the bathroom a glance as he swiftly exited through the other door. He clearly assumed she’d left through there—and she nearly had, if she hadn’t spotted the bathroom pantry first.

She covered her mouth as she remembered to breathe. This was bad. He knew she was upstairs now. There was no way she could go anywhere.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

All he needed to do was chill in the main upstairs hallway and she’d reveal herself eventually. That was if she moved.

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling incredibly uneasy. She couldn’t sit and wait like this. It was gonna kill her. She couldn’t risk Gojo coming back into the bathroom to catch her like this.

She shook her head, staring down at her wobbly legs as she ran her hands through her hair. Think. Think. Think!

In the midst of her despair, an idea flashed within her mind. Something so unlike her and risky, she wanted to puke. She wasn’t sure if it was even gonna work.

There’s no way I can do this. She wanted to gag, but in the back of her mind she knew she had to. It was the only way.

Suddenly-something within her turned off. Turning off the tremors running along her body. The tight feeling in her throat. The mind-numbing fear.

She waited a beat before stepping out from behind the pantry door. She walked into the guest bedroom he’d entered moments ago, her restless heart rate stuttering as she walked further into the room.

To her surprise, he was nowhere to be found. Instead the other door leading out the guest bedroom was left partly open.

She closed her eyes, she knew she wasn’t going to be alone soon enough.

She closed her eyes, “Satoru.” she called out, her voice sounding weak to her ears.

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, resisting the urge to tremble as her hands shook imperceptibly at her sides.

“Satoru.” she called out, her voice clearer.

Suddenly the aura in the room changed and she knew. She knew.

Her body tensed instinctively. Every nerve in her body backfiring as her instincts screamed at her-telling her this was wrong-downright wrong. Signaling she was in danger.

She squeezed her hands into fists, forcefully willing herself to calm. Forcing her thoughts to go quiet at the pain of her nails digging into her palm.

She slowly opened her eyes and caught sight of the mirror in front of her. The large mirror was attached to the vanity and showcased the sight of him.

He stood as still as a statue, directly behind her—yet not close enough to touch her. His tall frame towered over her.

But his eyes. His eyes are what made her stomach flip flop. He was looking directly at her, jaw locked. He looked at her as if he wanted to rip her apart.

But since he was looking down at her, he didn’t seem to catch her alert gaze staring at him through the mirror. She felt her body tense up further. She couldn’t lose her resolve..

“S-satoru..” her voice a soft plea.

She saw him tilt his head, his eyes flitting closed. She swore she felt his cool breath run down her spine.

She saw him slowly open his eyes, “Why are you saying my name so prettily.”

Despite knowing he was behind her, she nearly flinched at the sound of his voice anyway. She bit into her lower lip-doing everything she could to resist the natural instinct of wanting to scurry away from him.

Her voice quavered, “Because I'm tired of running from you.”

“Quitting?”

Her breath caught. She didn’t know how he managed to sound so cold yet amused at the same time. He always caught her off-guard but she had to convince him.

She hung her head, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. She didn’t want to say her next words.

She lowered her hand-her voice coming out oddly calm, “What’s there to quit, Satoru.. I’m already yours.”

His eyes widened.

Suddenly he grabbed her hair, pulling her back flat against his chest. He dug his face into her temple, nearly growling, “Then why ignore me?”

She gasped slightly before swallowing. The sight of herself in his immovable grasp in the mirror was doing something to her.

“Because I’m scared,” her voice cracked as she whispered, “I’m scared of falling for you, Satoru.”

She saw his eyes flash with surprise before his hand in her hair suddenly forced her eyes away from the mirror, turning her head up to look at him.

Tears swam in her eyes as he searched her face. His sterling blue eyes unreadable.

A moment of silence ensued before he suddenly pressed his forehead to hers, “But I want you to fall for me, kitten.”

Just as he lowered himself to kiss her, she impulsively turned her head away. Her heart thumped rapidly when she realized she shouldn’t have done that.

She came up with something on the spot, “I-I can’t fall for someone who doesn’t care about me.”

She saw his white brows furrow in the mirror, “You don’t think I care about you?”

She turned around, staggering out of his grasp. “I know you don’t. You don’t care about what I want.”

His gaze was attentive as he stared at her, “What do you want.”

She swallowed. She had to be careful about this..

She took a step back from him, “I.. I don’t want to be a Mother till I’m 25. J-just like my Mom.”

He paused before his gaze hardened, “You want me to wear condoms.”

She bit her lower lip, before speaking as softly as possible, “For now.”

His hand clasped her hip, drawing her close. “I’ll be the one to put a baby in you anyway.”

She closed her eyes, keeping her face down—resting her forehead against his chest. She had to see how far she could push her luck.

“What else.” he asked.

She paused, “I want to keep.. us private.”

He grasped her chin, forcing her to look up. She didn’t miss the subtle disappointment in his expression.

“Why.”

She hesitated before speaking quietly, “I think.. keeping things secret is funner.”

A devious smirk split across his lips as he teased, “Such a naughty girl.”

Suddenly he nuzzled his face into the side of hers. She resisted the urge to freeze up.

“I wanna show you off though.” he whined.

“L-later.” she stuttered out, half heartedly.

His hands found the sides of her waist, easily fitting his large palms into the slight curve. He squeezed her sides before sighing as he reluctantly withdrew his face.

“Anythin’ else?” he asked, weary.

She was terrified of even bringing this up. But he was being.. somewhat understanding right now, so she wondered..

She shifted slightly in his hold, her hands coming to lay flat on his chest before her.

“No more.. hurting people.” her voice wavered.

“What do you mean.”

She swallowed, her eyes searching his before she spoke hesitantly, “T-the party.”

Noel. Jaemin. Arman.

His eyes seemed to narrow slightly, his voice somewhat cold, “That’s not up to me, kitten.”

She tensed, unsure what to make of his words but she was too scared to speak on it further. 

Suddenly his face was nudging hers, “Kiss me.” he ordered, gruffly.

She hesitantly tilted her face up and he took full advantage. His lips kissing hers intently—as if trying to take all of her in by the lips.

He tilted his head, letting his tongue slip past her lips to taste her. The action making her tense slightly but he easily took the lead. His hand went to the back of her head to hold her in place as he kissed her deep.

By the time he withdrew his lips, she was breathless.

His diamond-like eyes searched her face, “I can get you anything in the world you want. Just tell me and it’s yours.”

She didn’t doubt his quiet, confident words. She knew he had access to money like that. But how could she tell him that she wanted him to forget her.

His fingers caressed her hair, “You’re scared because it’s your first relationship, hmm?”

She merely nodded.

A small smile tugged at his glossy lips, “S’okay, it’s my first too.”

Everyone knew Gojo didn’t have to try when it came to girls. Ever since he moved here girls threw themselves at him. Maybe he hadn’t been in actual relationships but she was certain he’d fucked around enough for the both of them.

Besides his long-time fuck buddy, Katrina, liked to act like she was his ex.

She stepped away from him, her face red. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

His smile widened into a grin, his eyes glittering with amusement. “Jealous?”

Before she could look away, he caught her jaw–easily turning her face to look up at him as he said, “This is the only relationship that matters to me.”

He pulled her into a hug. His scent engulfing her, as did everything else of his huge stature. She closed her eyes, willing her body to stay calm and not cry. He hadn’t hurt her yet so she supposed she’d done well.

His hand ran over her hair as he murmured, “I’m gonna make you love me.”

Her eyes flashed open—her heart rate picking up. He sounded so calm, so definitive.. It was then that she realized getting rid of him was going to be a lot more dangerous than she thought.

a/n: wooooohoooo ty for reading this ish if u made it this far. the next part of this chapter still occurs on the same day which is y i didn't wanna make it a whole nother chapter but pls lemme kno ur thOTS or whatnot. ill link the next part of this chapter in this post once it's uploaded. also excuse any spelling/grammar mistakes bc i kinda skim edited this (oops) have a good dayyy ya'll

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[dizzybee03]

Something Sinful Happening on Sunday

A Beau “Cyclone” Simpson x OC (Ryan Reagan) story. #3 in the series

Warnings: slight smut (dry humping)

6 weeks, 42 days, 1008 hours, that's how much time had passed since Ryan and Beau’s first date. In that time the two had been together as much as they possibly could- between life as a police officer and Navy admiral that looked a little different for them than most couples.

 True to his word, Beau had been nothing but a gentleman and they had taken things slow and not rushed into having sex. Sure there had been lots of cuddling and making out like teenagers but there had also been many hours just spent talking until the wee hours of the morning.

Ryan’s work schedule was not normal and made it hard to plan normal dates since one week she may be off on Wednesday and Thursday while the next she may be off Friday and Saturday . Beau didn’t mind, he understood better than most what crazy schedules were like and was willing to meet up whenever Ryan was available. That meant the two met for lunch (almost everyday in fact) and a few evenings a week Beau drove to Ryan’s house to spend an hour or two with her after her shift. This week Beau had invited Ryan over on her Sunday off-he wanted to impress her with his culinary skills.

As Ryan pulled her 1970 black and gold El Camino into the driveway of Beau’s 2 story bungalow she felt the weight of the work week lift away. Work had been extra grueling this week and she was having a hard time shaking it. An evening with Beau was just what she needed though and she couldn't wait to get inside and be in his calming presence.

“Honey I’m home” Ryan said as she walked in the front door without knocking and closed it behind her.  “I’m in the kitchen '' Beau hollers in response. Ryan kicked her shoes off, placing them neatly under the bench in the entryway before heading towards the kitchen at the back of the house. Everything in Beau’s house had a place and Ryan tried to respect that when she was there.

“Smells heavenly in here” Ryan said, walking up behind Beau and wrapping her arms around his waist.  He turned around in her embrace kissing her softly on the lips before taking in her appearance. The circles under her eyes were dark and her small smile wasn’t quite as bright as it normally was when she said “try to ignore the fact that I look like a hot mess.  I had every intention of wearing something cute tonight but couldn’t find the energy to do more than throw my hair up and change into these old sweats.”

“Sweets you take my breath away no matter what you have on. Did you get your errands done this morning like you wanted?”

“No, not at all, I had every intention of getting up when my alarm went off and pretending to be a productive member of society but instead I slept until noon and then binged The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. I didn’t move off my couch until it was time to drag my lazy ass over here.”

“ I think you’re allowed to have a lazy day after the week you had. I know you're tired and stressed out.  Did you end up saying anything to Sgt Hollon about your concerns for Officer Roberts not being cut out for patrol?”

“I’m not sure she wanted to hear what I had to say but yeah I talked to her. I get that his dad is a big wig on the city council, but that shouldn’t matter when the kid continues to make big mistakes. I asked him twice last night if he had searched the suspect we were getting ready to transport to the jail. He told me twice that he had and yet when I searched the guy I found 2 crack rocks in the toe of his sock. Not to mention the fact that twice this week he failed to do an inspection of our squad car before our shift started….I’ve taught him to do this not only to CYA (Cover Your Ass) but for officer safety.  Luckily I didn’t trust that it had been done and went ahead to check the back seats. I’m glad I did too because someone had ditched a knife under the bench seat. It’s bordering on an officer safety issue. Not to mention the fact that he sucks at building rapport, can’t write a report to save his life and instead of de-escalating situations has a way of making them worse.  Last night  I thought about leaving my gear in the driveway and telling command to just come get it cause I quit.  Shit I’m sorry for just throwing that all at you.”

“Don’t apologize, that’s what I’m here for. Sometimes it helps to just get that stuff off your chest even if it just comes barreling out in a jumbled mess. ”Beau said while running his hands up and down Ryan's back.  I’m just sorry your week has been so stressful and that the department seems to be showing so much favoritism because this douchebag's dad is on the city council. Maybe…..”Beau started to say before being interrupted by Ryan’s mouth covering his own in a kiss that was meant to stop him from talking.

“I don’t really wanna talk about work anymore tonight” she said before kissing Beau again quickly.

He chuckled saying “what DO you wanna do then?”

“Well…..first I wanna eat whatever yummy goodness you’ve got in the oven and then I wanna cuddle up on the couch with you…….and maybe make out like horny teenagers”.

“It’s chicken parmigiana and garlic bread and you definitely make me feel like a horny teenager. I’ve taken more cold showers in the last month and a half than I care to admit” Beau said while fixing a plate of food and handing it to Ryan.

“I’d apologize but I’m really not sorry” Ryan said, smacking Beau’s ass before taking the food and sitting at the small table in the kitchen.  “How was golf with Solomon?” She asked.

“It was alright, like usual he kicked my ass. I’m honestly not sure why I keep agreeing to play with him. Sol wants to have you and I over for dinner with him and Muriel one night soon. I told him I’d talk with you and see what your next nights off looked like.”

The conversation continued to flow while they ate dinner and once the dinner mess had been cleaned up they settled in the living room. Beau turned the TV on changing it to the NFL RedZone channel saying “Chargers are playing the Steelers tonight, mind if we watch for a bit?”

“Nope, I don’t mind” the two spent the next half hour sitting side by side on Beau’s couch watching football. Ryan was absent-mindedly running her fingernails up and down Beau’s thigh. Twice Beau’s breath hitched as Ryan’s hand got dangerously high. Ryan shifted closer to Beau on the couch, his arm behind her back and his hand caressing the side of her breast. Silently Ryan turned and straddled Beau’s lap. Her hands went to his hair as she whispered “I’m gonna need you to kiss me.”

“I think I can handle that.” Beau said, his voice thick with lust. His hand that was  tangled in Ryan’s hair  pulled her head down so that their noses were touching, their lips seeking each other out in the most sensual kiss. It was as if their tongues were dancing the tango. The kiss was slow, but intense. Beau’s other hand was kneading Ryan’s firm ass. The sensation caused her to rock her hips back and forth. There was no denying how turned on they both were. Ryan could feel Beau’s impossibly hard erection underneath her as she continued to rock her clothed hips back and forth over Beau’s. Kissing down his chin and neck  Ryan moaned “God Beau I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it baby, you've got me close too” he said as the hand that had been on her ass came around and started palming her covered pussy. His thumb stroked her clit causing Ryan to rock her hips in a frenzied manner, Beau's own hips jerked up the faster that Ryan went bucking up one last time as he climaxed while Ryan leaned back slightly squeezing her covered breasts as she rode out her own high. Ryan slumped over Beau’s shoulder, tucking her head into the side of his neck chuckling. “What’s so funny?” Beau asked.

“Oh just the fact that it’s been long enough since I’ve had sex that you barely touched me and I came like it was my first time. Can you imagine how good it’s gonna be when we do this with our clothes off? God it’s almost sinful the way you make me feel.”

“Honey I think about it all the time. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to go clean myself up and change my pants because you aren’t the only one that came like it was your first time.” Beau said, rising up from the couch.

“Don’t take too long Admiral, the football game is almost over and then it’s my turn to pick a show.” Ryan said, pinching Beau’s ass as he walked off towards his bedroom. “Aye aye ma’am” he said, giving her a mock salute.

Ryan settled back on the couch chuckling to herself “we are such horny teenagers.”

[jedi-enthusiast]

Debunking the "The Jedi are Evil" Theory Made by The Film Theorists PT 8

Point 8 - Revisiting the Same Argument I Covered in Part 3

Matthew quote:

"The story of Anakin's recruitment also illustrates a larger point about how troubling the recruitment tactics of the Jedi really are. Aside from the obvious problems of taking very young kids and signing them up for decades-long obligations it'll be very difficult for them to opt out of in the future."

We're ignoring this part because I already covered this in part 3.

Matthew quote, continued:

"They're even dishonest in the way that they signed these kids up in the first place!"

...oh boy, I can't wait to hear this.

---

Matthew quote, continued:

"Going back that example of Anakin; when Qui-Gon is deciding whether or not to take him on as a recruit, one of the things he needs to do is collect a blood sample so they can measure his midichlorian count."

He then goes on to explain all of the red tape you have to go through in the real world in order to get a child's blood sample, then continues on:

"So does Qui-Gon ask his mom for a sample? Does he explain what he's doing to Anakin? Does he even sterelize the needle? Let's watch-" [cut to a clip in TPM of Qui-Gon telling Anakin he's testing his blood for infections] "-that's it. No permission slip, not even verbal consent, and on top of all of it he lies about the purpose of the test in the first place."

Firstly, taking a step back from in-universe talk for a second, obviously Qui-Gon doesn't sterilize the needle or start outlining HIPPA laws before he takes Anakin's blood. It's a movie, they're on a limited time table, they're not gonna waste a couple precious minutes that could be used for something else to do all that.

Now, back to the in-universe talk-

Shmi is the one that is pushing for Anakin to be brought to the Jedi Order and obviously Qui-Gon's gonna need to know a few things before he can just up and take Anakin to the Temple, so it wouldn't be a stretch to say that her consent was implied.

Anakin also doesn't fight or seem at all distressed or unwilling to have a blood sample be taken, so it would be a stretch to say that his consent was implied as well (especially considering that, when I get my blood taken, I'm never asked for my consent--I generally just cooperate and the phlebotomist takes my blood, and that's in a professional setting).

But that's not really how consent works, so I'll give Matthew that one. No, Qui-Gon doesn't ask for consent from anyone before taking Anakin's blood.

But I will defend him not telling Anakin why he's taking the blood, because Anakin clearly idolizes the Jedi and wants to be one--if Qui-Gon had told him that he was testing to see if he was Force-sensitive, Anakin would have gotten his hopes up. Which, if it turned out that he wasn't Force-sensitive, would have crushed him--so is it that much of a stretch to say that Qui-Gon wanted to wait to say anything just in case?

---

Matthew quote, continued:

"I guess you could try to argue that Anakin is literally living in slavery and so he and his mother are probably desperate to get out of the situation and maybe that makes it better, but no! You are so wrong! In fact, the idea that Qui-Gon is preying on people who have no rights and no way to advocate for themselves makes it that much worse!"

Again, Shmi is the one pushing for Anakin to be brought to the Order, not Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon isn't "preying" on anyone.

They ended up on Tatooine by accident, Shmi is the one that decided to take them in, and--once again--Shmi is the one that kept saying Qui-Gon needed to take Anakin back to the Temple with him!

It's not like Qui-Gon specifically sought out this poor family with the intention of inducting Anakin into the Order--all of it happened by complete accident while Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, and Padme were trying to save Naboo from being invaded!

And again, the Jedi are extremely empathetic and they're just plain good people. If Shmi had said "you're not taking him to the Temple, leave him alone," then Qui-Gon would have listened!

The Jedi aren't the Sith, nor are they the Empire, stop assigning them traits that they don't fucking have!

---

Matthew quote, continued:

"You can even make a case that the Jedi barely think of their recruits as human! As even the venerable old Obi-Wan Kenobi, everyone's favorite Jedi, describes Anakin like this-" [cut to clip of Padawan Obi-Wan saying they've picked up another pathetic lifeform]

So...the entire Order obviously doesn't think of their recruits as human or people...because of one comment made by Obi-Wan who, in this case, seems to be pretty aggravated at their situation and is probably just snarking to blow off steam.

Yeah that holds up. /sarcasm

[cinamun]

Hi Cin!! I hope your day is going well so far!!

This is going to be long so I’m sorry in advance…

Okay so, I’m gonna start with saying I don’t like Bishop. I like him as a character in the sense that I like knowing how people think and why they do the things they do. Motives, ya know? So naturally his character intrigues me. BUT, I can’t stand the role he plays in this story and the way he treats others around him, especially Mercy. He is vile and abhorrent. That being said, what is he currently doing wrong? He could be trying to cover his ass while also weirdly caring about her, not in the sense of getting soft and mushy but in a way where what happens to her affects him because clearly he benefits from having her around even if that’s just so he can continue to manipulate her. Maybe he is just helping her so she doesn’t die. He doesn’t have to care about her extremely deeply to want to make sure she doesn’t die. Regardless of his intentions…she’s still breathing, he’s getting on her every single time she gets up, he’s making her eat, he told her to call her son, he said d she’s free to go as soon as she’s able to stand on her own but she can’t. She’d get back to her apartment and end up right back on that floor. Who else was showing up to check on her? She would’ve probably died on that floor. No one was coming any time soon. Except him. Could’ve just been right place, right time but still. It could be as simple as I’m around this person very frequently, they’re hurt, I’m going to fix it. Doesn’t mean he’s had a change of heart. He could just be simply taking care of her bc she’s severely injured and no one else is there and she’s being stubborn about it. Like Cin said, there’s no telling what kinds of nasty injuries him or his cell mates may have sustained while incarcerated. I’m sure he knows a thing or two about concussions. OR it could just be to cover his ass and not be a suspect or manipulate her into trusting him again. Either way…she’s alive, right? Because of him, right? And I’m only defending him bc SHE ATTEMPTED TO STAB HIM WITH A KITCHEN KNIFE WHILE HE WAS SLEEPING THUS GETTING FLUNG ACROSS THE ROOM TO PRESERVE HIS OWN LIFE. Prison instincts are a very real thing. In that particular situation this one time, he had a valid reason but used way too much strength and now she has a head serious head injury. It could have genuinely been an accident. You don’t have to care about someone to acknowledge that you severely injured them without meaning to and you feel obligated to take responsibility bc not only was it your fault but they’re not taking care of themselves and neither is anyone else. I will keep saying it….if he wanted her to die or didn’t care to some degree about her life, she would’ve been gone by now.

Now…I am fully aware that I could be loud and wrong and I will admit it if I am. We all know Bishop and we all know nothing is ever what it seems. I’m just going based off what we currently are seeing and how we got to this particular situation.

[silversiren1101]

To Our Children

[A little drabble between Regill and Jesyll, since I got the father-daughter bonding bug]

Jesyll listens intently as her father reads aloud the words on the page before them, nestled close to his chest where she sits on his lap, wrapped tight in a blanket. She has to listen hard; unlike the books Mama picks for story time, the ones Papa picks have no pictures. She can read some words on the page, but there's just too many for her to take in at once. She doesn't mind, though. The pictures form in her thoughts instead as she listens hard as she can, sometimes having to close her eyes to do so.

The trick is not falling asleep—which she has a feeling story time is supposed to be for. Lucky for her, Papa's stories keep her much too interested for that, and they continue in her dreams even after he does settle her into her bed afterward.

He doesn't use different voices like mama does, but she doesn't mind that either. Storytime with Mama is fun and makes them both laugh, and she likes to look at the pictures and ignore whatever the words say to try and tell her own stories, which Mama really likes. With Papa, though, she learns so many new words, and the stories make her think in a way the picture books don't. She need only tap his hand and ask what something means, which usually makes him smile a little bit as he explains. Bigger, stranger words are broken into many more smaller ones, but she understands them much better that way. When she reacts to parts of the story, he stops and asks her questions about what she thinks, and she likes that, too. It makes her feel like she's an adult, being listened to.

She likes both types of story-time. Asking her to pick her favorite would be like asking to pick between Mama and Papa themselves: impossible. She loves them both in different ways, just as they love her differently, too.

Tonight, Papa continues to read stories of a place called Lastwall, which doesn't exist anymore. He'd told her that it was why he was reading her stories from there, that it was important to know about it so that it wouldn't be forgotten. It disappeared only a few years ago—before she was born, but not long before that—so she doesn't understand how people could forget a whole place like that, but she doesn't fixate on that. She likes these stories. They make her sad but also hopeful, and make her want to run outside and pick up her sword (stick) and swing it around like the heroes on the pages and in her thoughts. She knows they're a lot like her parents and the rest of the knights in their castle, though they wear shiny silver armor instead of black; more like auntie Seelah. They fight to keep people safe, the ones like her that can't pick up a sword—only for so long as she stays little. She'll be like them too, when she can, with armor that covers her tail like Mama's does and a real sword of her own... or maybe a type of hammer like Mama and Papa.

For now, though, she listens hard as Papa reads to her. Her tail peeks out from the blanket to wrap around his arm, ready to squeeze if she has any questions. Like Mama's, the chill in the air makes her scales turn warm, unlike her skin which is just achy in the cold. Even in front of the fireplace like they are now, on the floor leaned against her bed, she'd been shivering—their castle was old and 'drafty', as Mama had called it—and so Papa bundled her up tight for story time tonight.

This one is about the orcs that fought the knights in Lastwall; about how they sided with the evil skeleton king and his undead armies. She listens hard, scenes of the battles playing out in her head painting a very clear picture until they reach the end of the chapter and then Papa tells her that things are very different today. She blinks questioningly, suddenly having no understanding at all of who had been right and wrong, as the book had made it obvious even to her little head. She knows he wouldn't lie to her though. He doesn't lie about things like this, even if the truth makes her sad or isn't easy to understand.

"But... they fought the good knights for a long, long time... and now they don't want to? Are they good now too?", she asks, looking up at him from where she's drawn up even closer to him as her eyes have gotten heavy. A yawn is stifled in his shirt after the question leaves her mouth.

Papa rumbles in that deep way that tickles her ear when she's leaned up against him like this. It's a noise she's come to understand is something like 'yes and no at the same time' when she asks questions like this—one that means he's going to ask her questions, too.

"It's easier to say they are no longer the enemy they once were. There is a lot of talking still to do between them and everyone else, to see if they will be 'good'", he answers, confirming her initial expectations. Yes and no.

She chews on her lips, little fangs biting into the oft-tenderized flesh. His answer only makes her have more questions. They normally do, and his silence after tells her he's waiting for them.

"They hurt a lot of the good guys though, didn't they? For the Whispery Ty...Ty..."—Tyrant, her father supplies—"Tyrant. They did for a long time... How can talking make things okay?"

How many times has she done something wrong only to be told that saying 'I'm sorry' is just the start of an apology? Mama and Papa both have taught her that you have to actually try and fix things, if you can. Just talking sounds like it won't fix anything.

"Hrm", he rumbles again. The approval in it makes her feel happy, like she's done something good. She always likes giving answers he likes too, even as much as both he and Mama say to speak what she thinks and likes most during moments like this. To her, it's best when she does both at once.

"You are right, Jess. They did fight for the Tyrant, but it's because it was for such a long time, and so long ago, that 'talking' may indeed make things right. It is not the same orcs now as it was hundreds of years ago, during the days of the Shining Crusade and Arnisant."

She nods in recognition of those names. The story of Arnisant has been her favorite from Lastwall thus far.

"Generations have come and gone since then, and these orcs have not fought for the Whispering Tyrant like their grandparents did. To treat them as if they had, it would be as if... my father's father had wronged someone, but you were held at fault, and made to make things right."

Her golden eyes go wide at that. Something stirs in her, bigger than her little body can quite contend with. Her tail tip rattles from where it's hanging wrapped around his arm, the little feathers at the tip rustling. She sits up a little straighter.

"But, that's not fair! I didn't do it!"

Papa nods, his own eyes—pale, pale yellow, long having lost the gold she has now way before her time—staying evenly narrowed as they hold hers. Something in them watches Jess in that way like he's expecting something, searching in a way. It's the look they get when he's asking her questions about the stories, about what she thinks about what's happening, on what's right and wrong or just is.

"No, you didn't, but I want you to think about something. What if he—my father's father—had raised his child with the way of thinking, or taught them rules, that caused that fighting or hurting during his time? Then, my father taught me the same, and I then taught it to you? It wouldn't be a 'bad' thing to you, now would it? It would be a good way of life in your mind, so, would you go against it all? Would you live completely differently than our family in this scenario has done for so long?"

She frowns. It's hard for her to think about, but what it does sound like to her is a trap. Was Papa really asking her if she would break the rules he taught her? If she would do the opposite of what she knew was good? On purpose? She does sometimes, but she wants to be good. It's just hard. She thinks then on what else he said: but what if doing what he and Mama said wasn't actually 'good', then? That doesn't make sense to her! They wouldn't do that! It hurts her head. She makes a little noise, a half-whine-half-grunt, as she thinks hard as she can, wanting to get it right.

That noise itself seems to be the answer.

"It's a difficult question, isn't it? The orcs of Belkzan today aren't the same ones that fought against The Shining Crusade, but they were raised by the ones that did. They were taught to live in the same way that led their parents and grandparents to fight, but they themselves have not fought in the same way, for the Whispering Tyrant."

Jess thinks she understands, but it's late and she's sleepy and her head is too heavy for this. Papa is looking at her like he expects another question though, and she doesn't want to disappoint. There's still more he wants her to know and learn from this.

"...Do you think they will be good? Will the talking help them?"

Papa's chin raises a little at her question. He looks pleased, and she's happy to see it, even tired and filled with too many jumbled, confused thoughts as she is.

"The talking won't, no. They must decide for themselves if they wish to change. The talking will only prove that they have."

She stifles yet another yawn. These questions have only made her realize how tired she is. It doesn't slip her notice though—"Papa, you didn't answer my question..."

He looks taken aback for a moment, before softening into a slight smile. He makes that airy, breathy noise where she or Mama would have laughed instead.

"I suppose I didn't." He shifts, letting go of the book to gently run his hand through the feathers behind one of her ears, which makes her giggle, albeit sleepily. "Now, do I think they will be different? I hope so; they would prove valuable allies now that Lastwall has fallen. And, given that some of their people already have, I do think there is a chance."

She perks up at that. It's not often that Papa is hopeful in this way. He answers most questions with the opposite, and sometimes it makes him and Mama get into a talk with really big words and ideas Jess can't keep up with... though she gets the sense they like talking in that way. It makes even Papa's eyes brighter.

"...But what if they don't?" Still, she has to ask. Only, a real yawn this time interrupts the tail end of her question. It's full and wide enough for her top fangs to catch on the outside of her lips as she closes her mouth.

Papa only shakes his head in response, though a little of his soft smiles touches his eyes.

"A question for next time, it seems. It's much better suited for more awake little girls."

Jess thinks to protest, but as Papa closes the book, something happens that pushes all that to the side. His left hand, having been holding the book open stiff for so long now, twitches. He makes short, pained grunt and shakes it, as if trying to knock loose whatever pained it, before squeezing it open and shut a few times.

A little needle pierces her chest, carrying with it a thread of pain of its own. She disentangles herself from the blanket and places one of her hands in his pained one just as he opens it again, finding it cold. It's not from the pure whiteness of his fingers, either (which she knows is not a good thing), but from the chill in the air even the fireplace can't quite beat. A little whine escapes from her closed lips as she looks up at him, not quite sure what to say or do, just a child upset to see their parent hurt.

The feeling of her hand in his makes him pause, before his fingers close slowly over her entire hand, so very gentle. His other crosses over her front, bringing his arm around to pull her into a full-body hug from above and behind as she feels his chin rest on the top of her head. All down her back, she feels him sigh a great and mighty sigh.

"I am fine, Jesyll. The cold does not agree with this scar, as you know."

She does know. How often has she run her little fingers up and down his hand and arm, tracing it from palm to shoulder because it was there and a thing to do? She's watched Mama take care of it when the cold comes, rubbing medicine into it so it doesn't hurt him anymore. She expects she'll smell it on him tomorrow, if it's hurting him tonight.

Papa has lots of scars. She's asked about the ones on his back, which made him and Mama look at each other before answering her.

'From the training I did to become strong. Strong enough to protect you and everyone else.'

"...Does getting strong always hurt?", she suddenly asks.

Papa goes stiff around her at the question before he relaxes into another hug. Shorter. Reassuring.

"Not always, though this scar is not from that. No, this one is from protecting your mother."

The answer strikes her. Mama? Needing protection?

"But Mama is stronger than you!", she gasps. "Why did she need to be protected?"

It gets a real chuckle from him this time, but Jesyll doesn't feel like laughing. The topic is much too worrying for her.

"She is stronger, but not always. For those times she isn't, I will do anything to keep her safe, just as I will you."

She whines at that. She knows scars are from moments of pain, far more than the little scrapes and cuts she gets from running around and playing. The thought of him getting even more of them because of her makes tears prickle at the corners of her tired eyes.

"...I don't want you getting hurt, Papa..."

He hums. The feel of it all around her makes her feel as warm and safe as protected as he'd said he would. Her little hand is squeezed in his."

"You don't have much choice in the matter, wyrmling. That's what good parents do, just as their good little children go to bed at a reasonable hour."

[missingcarrion]

carrion // ch2 human

uh oh we meet a new friend!!! also future chapters will be longer im just working out a groove

trigger warning: sexual harassment, weird sexual comments

taglist: @tapioca-milktea1978

masterlist

-

There is something fascinating about the way robotic arms whir as they move, crafting together a piece of something that will one day simply be you. Shepherd watches them piece his future together – a body, his and his alone. And Hannah is there too, watching with keen interest as they make him their new Adonis (she told him that forgotten story the previous night and he’s fascinated by the idea of myths and gods.)

There’s a restlessness to this, a fear that he will lose what little he has of himself, but Hannah has promised to help. She… she promised.

“Lookin’ good, Shepherd.” One says, and makes a pointer remark at the more…. Masculine parts of his body that the Institute regarded as necessary, “you’ll have women jumpin’ all over you. You’ll have to learn how to use it. I know someone who can help.”

If ever it was possible to be repulsed as a living computer, this would be the time. But he ignores the disgust, and the discomfort, and instead tries not to think too hard about what curses may befall him now.

Hannah sends One a glare, however, seemingly not as docile as he has been. After all, it is his purpose to serve. Maybe it’s all just a test of sorts?

“Ignore him, Shepherd. He’s just being gross,” Hannah looks at One like she’s going to scold him for what he’s said. But she bites her tongue and says little else.

Shepherd watches her with mild intrigue. He ought to ask her later, but his attention is drawn back to the synthetic body that a team of scientists and engineers works on. The body is big, like One had said it would be, and it’s a bit bulky. Like they’ve engineered the ability to fight into this body without even asking if the inhabitant wants to fight.

Though .. . The body is exceptionally handsome. With an aquiline nose and long hair. None of it is real, but… the idea of being so close to being human sparks something in him, it awakens something he wasn’t sure had been there before.

“I am eager for my placement.” He says, although he struggles to contain his true excitement. “When do they expect to do the transfer?”

I am sick and tired of travelling through wire, he thinks, bitterly before regret takes over. The Institute knows what they are doing. It’s not in his place to judge or fault them. They must have a plan.

“Eh, if the body is completed tonight, you’ll be transferred sometime Friday.” One says, although he seems far too interested. Far too curious for his own good. “They’ll change up your room and give you a bed to go into sleep mode.”

Hannah’s eyes flick over to him briefly, like she’s sensing something sinister in his tone. One cannot be trusted, not now, not with the freedoms Shepherd’s being given by the Institute.

“I am sure I will not find sleep mode useful,” Shepherd replies, wary of One’s intentions, “but I am glad all the same. I have decided I would also like to see the Archives. I cannot gain access to them as I am now, but I should like to see the information it holds.”

“We can arrange that,” Hannah chirps, “you’ll like the Archives. It’s basically a giant library.”

“’You’ll like it’? Minsheng, he’s a fucking robot,” One snorts, “he doesn’t think. The only thing he’ll be doing is curing some housewife’s boredom and keeping Institute defectors in line. Nothing else. He’s not a puppy you get to keep.”

“And one can argue he’s not a plaything either,” Hannah retorts, arms crossed over her chest.

But a completely different voice cuts through their conversation, scathing and annoyed, “that is enough you two. Your bickering is distracting. Shepherd is a fascinating case. He may very well grow beyond whatever we have boxed him in. You both will do well to remember your places in this project.”

Shepherd looks towards the speaker, a tall, frightening man, with his entire body covered by robes, with his head wrapped. There, the cloth of the robes are curled into makeshift horns. He is the eccentric scientist behind many of the projects at the Institute – he’s not employed by them, either, and refuses every attempt to be hired by them. Oddly enough, Shepherd sees nothing when he scans the Doctor. It’s like he doesn’t exist.

Hannah seems visibly different when this man appears, almost like a cross between fear and admiration. “Of course, Aasimar. I didn’t mean to offend. I’m sure you’re equally fascinated by this opportunity.”

Aasimar, as he is called, hums, his eyes, pure white with his pupils lined in an intimidating gold. He is one of them, one of the mutants, although, was he ever really human to begin with?

“And what of you, One? Are you going to behave?” His voice is sultry, tantalizing and terrifying all at the same time. “Our friend Shepherd may be a tool now, but soon enough the power in our hands will be in his. Do be kind.”

One hisses, but his face scrunches up into severe discomfort. He mutters something under his breath before he backs away.

“Fantastic, now that he’s gone,” Aasimar claps his hands, delighted, and returns his gaze to the synthetic body, “we can finally have some peace and quiet. A rather annoying fellow he is, hm? Don’t worry, he’ll only sulk in a corner somewhere.”

Hannah snorts, but she’s more timid than she had been. “Shepherd, this is Aasimar, a leading scientist and doctor in the city. He’s the top in his field – which changes on a whim, but still. He’s pretty cool.”

The odd man hums thoughtfully, “keep an eye on your new friend, Minsheng. It is in his best interest that when he gets his body, he has a friend in his corner. I foresee terrible things. Very troubling things.”

“Can you see the future?” Shepherd asks.

“Secrets, secrets,” Aasimar taps his temple, smiling, “anyway, I shall be going now. Much to do, much to work on. Maybe once you’ve been transferred into your body, Shepherd, you might stop by.”

“You called me a tool. Why would I visit you?” He asks, and it earns a snort from the man.

“We are all tools, Shepherd. Remember that. We are like cogs in a machine, different components to the larger system,” Aasimar waves his hands to emphasize his point. “What matters is what we do with ourselves. Do we break the machine? Or do we allow the machine to continue? Think about it, and find me when you’ve decided.”

Shepherd watches Aasimar leave, and watches as Hannah visibly relaxes and heaves a sigh of relief.

“I never thought he’d leave,” she murmurs, lips pursed, “he’s not the type of person you want to upset, but when he likes you, he’s a fantastic friend. He’s the keeper of the Archives at this point – he’s always in there, reading, tinkering. I don’t know what he does. But he’s been a key part in making your body.”

“I would like to know more about him.” He says, and his tone trails off as he’s forcefully sent back to his lonely, quiet room.

[silver-rings-and-rabbits]

Open Heart 2 - Chapter 17

Do No Harm

The rest of the week passed steadily and a strange excitement bubbled inside Matthew. He didn’t know why; they weren’t going for fun, and there was every chance Jackie’s plan wouldn’t work. Eventually he put it down to the simple fun of travel: he had never been to Vegas before after all.

On Friday evening, Kyra, Keiki and Bryce turned up at the apartment.

“Hey you!” Kyra shrieked as soon as Matthew opened the door. She almost bowled him over in a hug. “How dare you talk me into this surgery and then get so poisoned that it’s too dangerous for you to come visit afterwards?!”

“I’m sorry!” Matthew groaned, hugging Kyra tightly. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“I’m at my parents for now but I’m still having a lot of hospital check-ups. Surely it’s safe for you to come see me now?”

“I’m sure I can.”

Kyra won over Keiki as easily as she had Matthew, particularly with stories of drunken Bryce and intern Bryce. By the time the rest of the gang was ready to leave for the airport, they had commandeered the entire sofa and seemed to have no intention of moving from it until Sunday night.

The generosity of Panacea Labs apparently covered hotel rooms but not flights, and Matthew had to patiently explain to the grumpy man in front of him that he wasn’t purposely kicking his seat, his legs were too long to comfortably fit into the space between the cheap economy seats. He got little sympathy and had to suffer in silence throughout the flight, hoping his book would be enough to distract him.

Sienna and Aurora were also sat in his row. Sienna seemed down.

“Mitch quit this afternoon,” she explained in a low voice.

“Is that much of a surprise? He never really struck me as competent.”

“No, but…I feel like maybe it’s partly my fault. I spent half the year making excuses and then it became too much and I blew up. If I had handled myself better—”

“Sienna, don’t blame yourself,” Aurora said. “You’ve been through so much crap lately, you didn’t blow up just because of Mitch’s attitude.”

“How has it been since you told him off?” Matthew asked. “Did he take you seriously?”

“He did, finally, but he didn’t think. Jackie told me that Gary always knew where to go after he was done with a patient, but I had to constantly tell Mitch to go down to the ER, or check for new cases coming in. I couldn’t figure out if he was afraid of doing things wrong or still being purposely incompetent.”

Matthew and Aurora glanced at each other.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter,” Matthew said.

“Agreed.”

Sienna sank down in her seat.

“I just don’t really know what to do anymore,” she said. “After I blew up at Mitch, Zaid decided to reassign some of my cases…he thought I was stressed and overworked, and still affected from the attack. He wasn’t wrong but now I don’t know how to fill out the rest of my time. I’ll just think about Danny, which won’t help anyone.”

“Elijah does a bit of research outside of his work,” Matthew said. “Maybe you could do something like that too, just to give you some focus that’s not direct cases.”

“It doesn’t have to be forever either,” Aurora said.

“I guess.”

Sienna rested her head on Aurora’s shoulder companionably.

All thoughts of work were forgotten when they touched down in Vegas and caught their first sight of the strip. Neon lights as far as the eye could see, life-size replicas of world landmarks towering over them. New York City might have been the city that never sleeps but Matthew was sure the title ought to be re-crowned. He felt like a dork, gazing open-mouthed at the lights that surrounded him but it was impossible to look away.

“Someone help me,” Bryce grinned. “I think I burned my eyes looking at Excalibur.”

“Follow me, Lancelot,” Aurora laughed.

They were staying in an extremely fancy hotel: just the reception area was swathed in marble floors and gilded statues. The crystal chandelier was most definitely real crystal and gold. When Jackie gave her name at the desk, the receptionist gave an almost crawly smile. Jackie seemed to cringe and swiftly led the group to the elevators – which were probably bigger than their apartment’s bathroom – and they flew up to the top floor and into the penthouse.

“Holy crap!”

They had walked into a sweeping room with floor-to-ceiling windows, remote controlled spotlights in the ceiling, several plush sofas that looked as comfortable as a bed, plasma TVs in the wall facing a fully-stocked minibar.

“Check out this bath!” Sienna squealed. Matthew looked into a marble bathroom to find a big circular tub, mounted on several steps, big enough for Sienna to lie flat in.

“Want me to run you a jacuzzi?” Matthew said, looming menacingly over the buttons.

“Not yet!” Sienna scrambled out the tub, giggling.

“Just remember this was paid for with blood money,” Jackie warned as she flicked through a menu. “On that note, who wants to help me rob Panacea with room service?”

Matthew couldn’t help smirking: Ethan had had a similar philosophy last year, and Jackie would be sick if he told her that.

As Jackie put in a call to the front desk for a Panacea-funded feast, Matthew snuck into one of the bedrooms and sprawled out on the king-sized four poster bed, marvelling at the silk sheets and velvet throws, then took out his phone to call Rafael.

“Matthew!” He sounded happy. “How’s the city of lights?”

“Pretty sure that’s Paris, not Vegas.”

“There is an Eiffel Tower there.”

Matthew moved to the window where he could see the Eiffel Tower replica glowing against the night sky.

“Fair point. I’ll give it to you.”

Raf chuckled.

“It’s good to hear your voice. I was getting a little jealous thinking of you guys hitting the town without me.”

“I know. I wish you could have come with us.”

“Me too, but I’ve got a super-heavy physical therapy schedule and Dr Mirani doesn’t want me travelling far at the moment.”

“I know, I know.” Matthew didn’t want Raf to get caught up in what he was missing out on. “So, what are you up to now?”

“Right now I’m at Vovó’s for family dinner!” His voice perked right up. “You should smell the moqueca she has on the stove…”

Matthew could picture the scene: Juliana’s bright kitchen, Rafael probably trying to help out and being told to relax, his parents gently teasing each other.

“That sounds amazing. Remind me to invite myself over again soon.”

“That won’t be hard.”

Someone knocked on the door of the bedroom, and he heard Sienna’s voice asking if he was OK.

“I should probably get back,” he said, reluctantly. “Heist plans to make and all that…”

“Go, have fun! And…get into some trouble, OK? For the two of us.”

“I will,” Matthew smiled. “Say hello to your family for me. And the next time I’m in Vegas, I fully expect you to be here with me.”

“Actually I have good news on that front: I could be up for some travel in a few months, if I keep up with my recovery schedule.”

“That’s great, Raf!”

Matthew felt comforted as they exchanged goodbyes and hung up. He had been a little concerned with what Raf would think of the plan, but he had been encouraging, and Matthew was glad Raf was having fun back home.

As they ate dinner – a variety of world foods that they could all pick and share – they put their plan together. The next day would be the main conference which Jackie, Aurora, Sienna and Elijah would attend. Matthew was off the hook as he and Nash still hated each other. He was just going to make the most of the luxury penthouse. Bryce had volunteered to keep Matthew company, though he would probably take another stroll down the strip. Saturday evening would be the big one for all of them. The execs would be drinking and gambling and this was when Jackie hoped their tongues would be loose enough to reveal a few dirty secrets.

Matthew slept in on Saturday morning and soaked in the jacuzzi for a couple of hours. He was lounging on the couch in a fluffy bathrobe when Bryce came back from his explore.

“Check out what I bought for Keiki!”

He reached into a shopping bag and pulled out a little model of Elvis Presly. When the button was pressed, Elvis sang a few bars of ‘Viva Las Vegas’ and wiggled his hips.

“Just what she’s always wanted,” Matthew laughed. “Maybe I should get one for Raf.”

“Do it and they can have a dance-off.” Bryce flopped onto the couch beside Matthew and took some chocolate out of the shopping bag to share.

“How are you doing, anyway?” Matthew asked. “I couldn’t believe that your parents had come into the hospital.”

“Yeah,” Bryce said, heavily. “That was…something. But people have actually been quite nice about it, which I didn’t expect. And people talking about me in general is nothing new.” He acted cocky, smoothing his hair back, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “But I got so angry when I first saw them, even though it’s been years. It…scared me,” he admitted. “I used to punch the wall after I argued with my parents, and at the time I told myself it was OK because it wasn’t a person. But that’s hardly a healthy reaction. Keiki and I argue, what if I get angry with her?”

Matthew rubbed his shoulder. “I think the fact that you’re worried about it is a good sign,” he said. “You’ve been making it work with Keiki for a while now. But the anger caused by your parents will be different than arguing with your sister. Much less extreme.”

“I suppose,” Bryce nodded. “But…there’s a lot to think about at the moment….Stuff to work out…Things to decide.”

Matthew waited, but Bryce didn’t elaborate.

“Are you going to tell me about that…?”

“Maybe later.” Bryce casually popped a chocolate into his mouth. “But not today. Today we help Jackie.”

“If you say so,” Matthew said. “But I’m here for you.”

“You’re a doctor, not a psychologist. But thanks.” Bryce ruffled Matthew’s hair, then paused, sniffing the air. “Dude…did you use rose bubble bath or something?”

“It was so foamy!”

****

That night, the suite was a flurry of activity as everyone got dressed up for the evening. Matthew kept it very simple in a black silk shirt. Elijah was in a maroon tux, and Bryce was in a navy tux with a matching flower print shirt.

“Only you could wear flower print and pull it off,” Jackie sighed, as she fixed a pair of sparkly earrings to her ears. She looked particularly striking in a short, tight sparkly blue halter-necked dress and black heels, though her hair was in its usual bun. Sienna had offered to style it differently, but Jackie had brushed her off. Whatever the morning conference had been about, she had come back with fire in her eyes and had been on edge all afternoon. Meanwhile, Aurora wore the red dress she had worn to her school reunion, and Sienna was in a glittering black cocktail dress, curling her hair for the occasion.

Walking into the casino was quite the assault on the senses. Music blared, slot machines squealed and buzzed, dealers called for bets, gamblers cheered in delight or howled in anguish. Lights flashed in every corner and cocktail waitresses strutted round offering shots…for a small fee, of course.

“Alright heist crew,” Elijah said, rubbing his hands together. “Where do we start?”

“I can see Nash talking to someone at the poker tables,” Matthew said.

“Let’s start there. But we need to be subtle,” Jackie said. “I say we go over in small groups to eavesdrop. Except Matthew, make sure you stay out of Nash’s sight.”

Bryce and Jackie strolled over to the poker tables. Elijah and Sienna went in that general direction, pretending to look around. Matthew hid at a slot machine. Aurora did the same, but positioned closer to Nash’s table.

“I’ve been hearing Solomon Health had a very good year.” Matthew could just make out Declan’s voice. “And I’ve been hearing rumours about vertical integration?”

“You using that machine or what?” someone behind Matthew said rudely. He jumped, then glared as he loaded a quarter into the machine and pulled the lever…only for the machine to start spinning and line up three golden sevens! The entire machine lit up and squealed with sirens as coins started rattling out, into his cup and onto the ground. The rude person looked scandalised.

“What the hell?!” Aurora gasped.

“It was a mistake,” Matthew groaned as Nash started craning his neck looking for the jackpot winner.

“Mr Nash! Good to see you!” Aurora called as she hurried over to Declan. He looked surprised, but pleased.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here, Dr Emery!”

“Well, my aunt couldn’t make it so she asked if I would go and represent the family.”

“And you work at Mass Kenmore now, I believe. Interesting…”

As Aurora subtly turned Nash away from the slot machines, Matthew hastily grabbed his cup and dashed away. There were still a ton of coins on the floor but he didn’t care; the rude gambler could have those.

Bryce and Jackie caught up with him as he was paying in his winnings: he had managed to catch a few thousand.

“How could you win a slot machine on the first go?” Bryce said. “You’re so jammy.”

“Never mind that, did you find out anything?”

“I heard something about Solomon Health and vertical integration,” Matthew said, as the other three caught up with them.

“I’ve heard about that,” Elijah said. “Vertical integration is when a company owns its own supply chain. Basically, Solomon Health are trying to create a monopoly.”

“I spoke with one of the Solomon reps and he kept saying there were ‘big plans’ for Mass Kenmore too,” Aurora said, darkly.

Jackie gritted her teeth.

“It doesn’t help us deal with Panacea. We need to try again.”

“Declan’s still at the poker table,” Sienna said. “This woman came to join him just before we came to join you, but he seems to know her well.”

The group peered over at the poker tables. A tall woman in a bespoke suit and black hair in a high ponytail sipped from a champagne flute and laughed at what Nash said.

“That’s Panacea’s CEO, Charlotte St Yves!” Jackie gasped. As she spoke, Charlotte downed the rest of her champagne and walked to the stairs that led to the sportsbook. She wobbled a little as she went.

“Charlotte seems to have had a few…I bet we could get her to talk. And taking down the CEO would be major,” Elijah said.

Jackie frowned.

“I don’t know…I still think it’s worth following Nash.”

“How about you and I stick with Nash, the others can follow Charlotte,” Bryce said. “Text us when you’re ready to meet up,” he added to the group.

The elevator doors opened to a modern sports lounge filled with flatscreen TVs, leather recliners and loungers.

“Pretend we belong,” Aurora reminded everyone as they stepped out. Charlotte was in a recliner, swirling clear liquid in a glass tumbler. Elijah started rolling towards the TV closest to her and the others followed.

“Yesss, Nick Lawson’s playing tonight. We gotta bet on him,” he said. Matthew and the girls settled on the loungers.

“This sportsbook is fancy,” Sienna noted. “So, where do we place our bets?”

“There’s a screen on the arm of the lounger,” Charlotte said, looking over at them.

Perfect Matthew thought as he gave Charlotte a smile.

“Thanks. We’re clearly not from around here.”

“What brings you to Vegas?”

“Er…”

“We were at high school together,” Aurora said. “Every year we take a trip to a different city.”

“Nice! Where are you from originally?”

“Boston.”

“I know Boston quite well,” Charlotte smirked. Matthew and Aurora shared a glance; of course she did.

“Do you travel a lot?” Sienna asked.

“A fair amount. I have a lot of conferences with work.”

“What is it that you do?”

“I work with Panacea Labs. We provide a lot of pharmaceuticals.”

They chatted a little longer about the beginnings of Panacea – Charlotte was drunk enough to let slip that she had always looked for tax loopholes, even in the early days – and then back to the basketball, which had just reached half time.

“So,” Charlotte said, slurring her words. “Who’s up for a bet? Sports games like this are unpredictable. Every game means lives and futures hang in the balance.”

“Sounds ominous,” Matthew muttered to Sienna. “Do you think that’s the drink talking?”

“It’s hard to tell either way,” Sienna whispered back.

Charlotte clicked her fingers at the server for a refill as Matthew watched a reporter interviewing a sweaty player. He seemed confident, almost overly so.

“That’s Antonia Morrison. He’s an absolute monster. The opposition will need a lot of luck getting past him.”

“So you think he’s the one?” Charlotte’s finger hovered over her betting screen. “The bookmakers have put an over-under on him of 15.5 points in the second half.”

Matthew continued watching the TV as Morrison wrapped up his interview, but as he stretched, he winced: a classic sign of hip-flexor strain. Elijah had gone pensive. He seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“You know what? I think Morrison will score under fifteen points.”

Charlotte giggled and her well-manicured hands tapped on her screen.

“Did you just bet a hundred grand?!” Matthew yelped.

“Exciting, isn’t it? Probably a teensy bit more than what you’re used to.”

The group watched the screens with baited breath. Matthew could feel himself sweating…and Morrison fell short of fifteen points before the final buzzer.

“We did it!” Sienna squealed. “I mean…he didn’t do it…but she did it!”

Matthew felt a little dizzy and he wondered if he’d been breathing properly at all for that second half.

“Well played!” Charlotte crowed, reaching over to shake his hand. “This calls for a celebration. I have a VIP lounge booked at the MGM Grand. Find me there and I’ll buy a bottle of Chateau d’Yquem.

“We’ll be there!” Matthew said as Charlotte staggered away. He could hardly believe his luck. Maybe he should place a bet for himself.

“Come on,” Aurora said. “We need to get Jackie and Bryce.”

Jackie was thrilled with their success. She had a recording of Nash saying they purposely extended testing periods and withheld breakthroughs from the public eye because they knew it would lose the money from the long-term treatment…but Nash was nothing compared to a confession from the CEO.

The MGM Grand was a huge nightclub with a long line of people waiting to get in. They didn’t recognise any Panacea honchos in the line…clearly they had queue-jumping privileges.

“We need to get past the bouncer,” Jackie scowled. “Bryce, flirt with him until he lets us in.”

“What?” Bryce spluttered. “What if he’s not into dudes?”

“Since when has that stopped you?” Sienna laughed.

Bryce rolled his eyes, but put on a charming smile and strutted to the bouncer who watched him warily. The group waited as Bryce ran his hand up the bouncers arm…the bouncer rolled his eyes and waved him in. Everyone else charged in after him.

“What did you say?”

“Well, I used my medical training to be very specific about which body parts of our anatomies would fit together…and he let me in on the grounds that I would never speak to him again.”

The group laughed. Matthew looked at Jackie, expecting a witty remark, but she was frowning and her eyes were focused straight ahead where Nash and Charlotte were in the VIP lounge.

“Jackie? You OK?”

“Come help me get my phone ready. You guys wait here.” Jackie grabbed Matthew by the front of his shirt and dragged him towards a bathroom.

“Wait, I can’t go in there!”

“It’s fine, just pretend we’re hooking up.”

A few women were fixing their make-up in the mirror. They jumped when Matthew was dragged in, then burst into giggles when he and Jackie crammed into a stall and locked it behind them.

“You owe me for this.”

“I’ll owe you for a lifetime.” Jackie’s hands trembled as she swiped at her phone, her brow furrowed in fury. “I got an app that filters out background noise. I’ll set it up and we’ll nail those bastards to the wall.”

She accidentally tapped out the app and cursed loudly. Matthew gently took the phone from her to continue the set-up. Jackie leaned against the wall, her hands clenched into fists.

“We need to find something, Matthew. I need Nash to suffer.”

“You’re not the only one who wants that.”

“No. I need it. Nash is out there, right now, making deals that will literally kill people as he drinks champagne. He deserves to lose everything.”

“You’re getting a bit…intense,” Matthew said in alarm. “Why do you want this so bad?”

Jackie made a strangled noise as she kicked at the wall. Matthew’s stomach squeezed when he saw the tears in her eyes when she faced him.

“This is the only way I know how to make it right. I let them buy me off and I hate myself for it. Nash is a slime bag but I should have done better. I was the one who was too weak. And it’s going to carry on…Nash will make his shady deals and there’ll be plenty of desperate doctors willing to help in exchange for extra cash.” She hastily dabbed her thumb under her eyes. “Sorry…I’ve barely slept over this.”

“Jackie, this isn’t all on you…”

“No. If I can do something to stop it…it won’t solve the whole problem but it’s a start. I’m sick of Big Pharma.”

Matthew’s heart broke for her. He handed the phone back, ready to record.

“Let’s go take them down.”

They found their friends at the edge of the dancefloor and huddled together. Jackie thrust the phone into Matthew’s hands, agitated.

“You need to do it,” she said. “I’m too…”

She couldn’t finish her sentence but she didn’t need to. Matthew squeezed her hand as he took the phone.

“Maybe it’s best if one of us goes anyway,” Elijah said. “You were the one who made the bet, Matthew. If she asks, just say we had to stop somewhere but we’re on our way.”

“We’ll wait for you on the rooftop terrace,” Bryce added.

He went with Aurora and Jackie, whilst Elijah and Sienna waited in the corner until Nash drained his glass and stood up. Almost as soon as he was in the main area of the club, Elijah rolled into him and Sienna started waylaying him about the Panacea perks program. Matthew ducked under the VIP rope.

“There you are!” Charlotte was trashed. “Where are your friends?”

“They wanted to stay at the casino a bit longer but they’re on their way,” Matthew said as Charlotte poured him a generous glass of champagne. “I still can’t believe how easily you placed a hundred thousand dollar bet…”

“I forgot how shocking the numbers can seem to the lower classes but it’s child’s play, really.”

Matthew ignored the jab. Charlotte had to keep talking.

“Humans are designed to thrive on adrenaline. The greater the risk, the greater the pay-off.” She smirked. “C’mon, you must get a rush from something.”

“Well…I once impersonated a doctor.”

“How?”

“I was at the mall and someone started choking. They called for a doctor but no one stood…so I ran up and did the Heimlich, like they do on TV.” He shrugged it off. “It worked. The guy woke up. And the ambulance crew asked me which hospital I worked at and thanked me for my service.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. Matthew had saved someone from choking in a mall food court during his med school years, but he had made it very clear he was only a student. The people hadn’t cared; they wanted their friend to be OK, and Matthew was the closest thing to a doctor they could get.

“Unbelievable. You got lucky,” Charlotte said. “When I was your age, I snuck into the lion exhibit at Atlanta Zoo.”

“You snuck into the…?”

“They’re just big kitties at the end of the day!”

They swapped a few more stories, but just as Matthew worried he was running out of life experiences to base his lies on, Charlotte took a big gulp of champagne.

“You want risks? I increased my company’s quarterly profits by sixty percent by inflating the wholesale prices of our most used drugs!”

Matthew spluttered. Charlotte had just confessed to text book medicare fraud.

“How would that even work?”

“Easy. Officially price the product at ten times retail. Medicare pays us the full amount for it and we just happen to offer a ninety percent wholesale discount to other buyers.” She sat back, happily. “My head’s going to be sore in the morning,” she giggled.

Matthew’s head was spinning. He had to get away from Charlotte.

“Well, I don’t think I can top that so hats off to you.” He forced a big grin while feeling like he might throw up. “Be right back, I gotta use the bathroom.”

Charlotte waved him off as Matthew ducked into the crowd and bolted for the stairs. The cool night air shocked him for a second before his friends gathered round him. The initial reaction was the same disgust he had felt, but then it turned celebratory when they realised it was perfect.

“I can’t believe it! You did it!” Jackie gasped, pulling him into a surprise huge hug. “Gimme the phone, I’ll take it from here.”

“Charlotte could go to jail for this,” Aurora said, as Jackie trimmed down the recording to just the admission. “Can you believe we pulled it off?”

“I might have known!” said a smarmy voice. Declan Nash had found them, just as Elijah and Sienna appeared from the elevator, aghast.

“I got suspicious when those two started hounding me about the perks program. Amateurs.” He looked at them with disdain before turning to Jackie. “Now, give me that phone.”

Jackie stepped forward to face Nash, holding up the phone showing the audio ready to send.

“I have a friend at the New York Times who was very interested to hear the goings-on in Panacea. You make one more move and I hit send.”

Nash went pale.

“W-What do you want? Money? We can talk deal,” He spluttered. “I could get you a consultant job at Panacea alongside your doctor job if you want!”

“You think this is about money?” Matthew snapped. Money seemed to have been the cause of most of his problems this year and he had had enough. From constantly asking how much patients could pay Edenbrook, all the way back to his father covering his sisters medical bills, and then screwing over Holly during the divorce. Had the world always been this way, or had he just now noticed? “You think we did this for a pay out? Not everyone is as disgustingly greedy as you are. The only thing we want is to get Panacea out of Edenbrook and Kenmore for good.”

“I can make that happen too!” Nash said, but then he paused. “Although…you know if you send that, you won’t come out of this clean.”

“What?”

“A story this big would lead to investigations. Every single doctor who took payments from Panacea Labs…and how many payments they took.”

He raised an eyebrow, pointedly. Matthew expected Jackie to flip Nash off and send the file, but she had frozen in place.

“So it was a couple of consultations. Big deal!” Sienna protested, but Nash laughed nastily. He still had cards to play.

“Your friends don’t know, do they? Well, kids, Jackie here was one of the highest perk recipients at the hospital.” He said the words with relish, and crossed his arms over his chest with a smirk, thinking he had won. Jackie couldn’t look anyone in the eye. She had lied to them.

“So that’s why they gave you the penthouse,” Elijah finally said into the shocked silence.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Sienna asked.

Tears welled in Jackie’s eyes.

“Because I was ashamed. I hate myself for all of it. I wanted to tell you…but I couldn’t get the words out.”

The conversation with Jackie in the bathroom stall suddenly made more sense.

“No patient or doctor would trust you again after this. You’d be out of a job,” Nash said, coldly. He held out his hand. “Just give me the phone so I can delete the message. I’ll move Panacea out of your hospitals. You keep your job. No harm done.”

Jackie tensed…then shook her head, and glared at Nash with cold fury.

“No. There was harm done, and you need to pay for it. And so do I.”

She hit send…and they all heard the swoop of the confirmation.

“NO!” Nash roared. For a moment he looked like he wanted nothing more than to wrap his hands around Jackie’s neck and squeeze. Matthew readied himself to fight him off, but then Nash whirled around and tore down the stairs. Matthew and Aurora raced after him, reaching the club in time to hear Charlotte’s furious screech, joined by other execs as Nash rounded them up. As they neared the door, Charlotte finally spotted Matthew.

“You little shit!” She spat. “How could you do this to me?”

“To you? You’re defrauding millions of people!”

“I think you’ll have to start placing slightly smaller bets, Charlotte,” Aurora grinned, high-fiving Matthew which made Charlotte even angrier but there was no time to rip them to shreds now.

Despite the fact the club was still raving, the roof terrace felt peaceful when they returned. Jackie was slumped on a bench with the others gathered round her.

“You didn’t have to sacrifice your career for this,” Sienna said as she sat beside Jackie and put an arm around her. “I’m really proud of you.”

“Me too,” Aurora said, going to Jackie’s other side. “You’re a brave, strong woman, Jackie.”

“What you did took a lot of guts.”

“You did good, nose-wiper.”

“I’m proud of you, too.”

Jackie glanced round at her friends, and finally managed a tired smile.

“Thanks guys.”

The six of them sat in peaceful silence in the cool night breeze. They seemed to have almost forgotten where they were until a heavy bass started thumping beneath them.

“So…” Elijah said. “Do we go home right now and wait for the headlines to hit, or do we make the most of an all-expenses-paid trip to Vegas that features a recently-vacated VIP lounge?”

The group started to laugh, then excitement grew again as they piled into the elevator and went back down to the club floor, where they wasted no time filling the VIP lounge and helping themselves to he abandoned champagne. It didn’t take long for Matthew’s head to spin and when he started feeling a deep love and gratitude for his friends, he grabbed a half-drunk bottle and stumbled to the edge of the lounge.

“Can I interest anyone in a drink?” he announced, to a rousing cheer. Clubgoers surged forward, and he poured champagne directly into their open mouths, feeling like a god.

Sienna and Bryce were dancing wildly. Elijah and Aurora were doing shots of tequila. Jackie shimmied over to Matthew and leaned on him heavily.

“You’re amazing,” she said, loudly. “Thank you. For everything. I mean it.”

Matthew smiled as he wrapped an arm around her, but somewhere in his fuzzy brain he thought it might be time to retire. He and Jackie stumbled out of the club and into a taxi back to their hotel.

“I miss Raf,” Matthew groaned loudly, as they collapsed on the penthouse couches.

“I know you do, you big dumb-ass,” Jackie said, kicking off her shoes. “Hey Matthew…I’m really sorry I lied…I just couldn’t stand the idea that everyone might hate me when I already hated myself—”

“Ssssshhh.” Matthew leaned over and gave her a big hug. “It’s all in the past. You’re redeemed. And we don’t hate you. I love you.”

Jackie hugged him back, then started sniffling.

“Sorry,” she wailed. “But I haven’t slept and I’m a bit drunk—hey!”

“Let’s get you to bed.” Matthew had swept Jackie into a fireman’s lift and carried her into a bedroom where he threw her onto the bed. He flopped onto it beside her, and soon they were drifting into a deep, drunken sleep.

****

Matthew woke up at noon the next day, with a sore head and a dry mouth. Jackie had woken up before him and he could hear his friends shuffling around the penthouse. He groaned as he rolled over and felt the smoothness of his phone, revealing a text from Rafael: several laughing emojis followed by ‘how are you feeling this morning?? xx’.

Matthew panicked, wondering what he might have sent, but opened up the message thread and snorted with laughter: ‘yur fuvkinn awesummd Raf xxzxxxcx’.

He called him, and he picked up immediately, laughing at the sound of Matthew’s condition.

“Sounds like you had a great night!”

“I don’t think I even drank that much…my tolerance has been shot.”

“I don’t want to think about what mine might be like,” Raf said. “So, anyway, there was breaking news report this morning where a bunch of Panacea reps were arrested. Anything to do with you?”

Matthew was about to recount the full story of their success when he heard a shout that pierced his head: “BRYCE, NO, WE’RE ON THE THIRTY-FIFTH FLOOR!”

“What the--?”

Forgetting his hangover for a second, Matthew scrambled into the living room. Bryce was on the balcony, leaning over the railing. Everyone was crowded round him, laughing and groaning.

“Raf’s on the phone,” Matthew said, squinting in the daylight. “What’s going on?”

“Bryce threw up over the balcony.”

“Eeeeww!”

“If the people don’t have an umbrella, that’s on them,” Bryce said, as defiantly as he could in his hungover state.

****

News of Panacea spread quickly through Edenbrook. It was a double-edged sword. Matthew knew what it meant for Jackie, but Panacea was immediately closed pending investigation and certain medications were now inaccessible. Some patients had to be sent to other hospitals that had better supply. Even when Edenbrook did have an alternative, it was only through another pharmaceutical company that could have had the same level of corruption as Panacea.

Matthew met Jackie and Sienna by the entrance on Monday night to walk home together. They were all subdued, still with a touch of hangover and the hospital’s financial crisis heavier than ever, when Aurora burst through the doors gasping for breath.

“Thank god you’re here,” she choked. “I was just told…Kenmore don’t want to merge…the board decided…Solomon Health bought us out and the board doesn’t want to share that…they said there’s no need to lean on Edenbrook.”

“Oh god,” Matthew groaned. June had been right about the liability of Thorne pushing hospitals away. Ethan had been right about greedy hospital boards. And if Senator Farrugia had been adamant to keep research funds from Edenbrook…

They were doomed.

Tags: @sazanes @rafasgirl23415 @ceruleansnake0

[culttvblog]

Number 6 was a Plant: The Chimes of Big Ben

You can read the introduction to this series of posts examining the suggestion that Number 6 could be a plant, here: https://www.tumblr.com/culttvblog/738540162388213760/number-6-was-a-plant-introduction Perhaps I should also have said in the introduction that I have arbitrarily decided to follow the ITC order of episodes for these posts. I still want to do some posts about the order of the episodes, and am reminded that Chimes of Big Ben this early in the run makes absolutely no sense from the viewer's point of view, because it means poor Number 6 has barely arrived and the Village authorities are talking about the remaining tactics that they haven't tried yet.

In my last post, about Arrival, I commented that if you want to see Number 6 as a plant, then his investigation is equally divided between finding out what is happening in the Village and testing its security to desctruction by trying to leave it. In Chimes of Big Ben he reaches the apogee of his attempts to leave by attempting to make it back to London. I am therefore in no doubt that his intention is clearly to test the Village's security, and he must therefore be motivated by rumoured excapes or cover-ups in the Village. He approaches trusted (?former) colleagues in London and tells them about the Village.

I would suggest, based on their reaction, that Number 6 has self-allocated this assignment. On the evidence of this episode he has not been 'planted' by British intelligence authorities, because they just repeat the same questions he has already been asked mutliple times in the Village. It is strangely comforting that it completely fits with Number 6's maverick personality that he would hear about corruption and escapes in the Village and assign himself to investigate it by appearing to resign and having it backfire on him.

He has made a real mistake, because his resignation has been convincing so everyone else in the episode, both in the Village and from Britain, is proceeding as if he has resigned and they just treat him as a prisoner of the Village. He has set up such a convincing cover story that he's then caught in Village security himself and can't escape! Perhaps he should have told someone before resigning...

This episode does reinforce that he is clearly someone very senior in intelligence, not least judging by the Whitehall types who know him. I would also suggest that in the scene where Number 2 invites him to watch Nadia wake up and he watches the various 'treatments' going on in the hospital, he is being treated much more as a senior, trusty, managerial visitor than a lowly new boy.

If you wanted to be particularly critical of the way Number 6 is going about his investigation, you could say that he's going about his test escape in a particularly cack-handed way because of his complete trust of Nadia, when he is resolutely suspicious of everyone else in the Village, including her at first. However it could be that Number 6's acts of finding out what is what at the Village naturally include trying out everything, including the Village authorities' smoke and mirrors.

I would therefore conclude from this episode that based on the events depicted it is still possible to view Number 6 as a plant, although probably a self-planted one, and his actions as attempts to investigate the Village and test its security to destruction.

A couple of other things have struck me about this episode on this viewing:

I really don't like the scene where Number 2 invites NUmber 6 watch Nadia waking up in her house. I frankly find it a bit pervy, them both watching her. The Village authorities would have some justification in their own eyes because she will just have been drugged and is waking up in a copy of her own home, both of which are bound to be traumatic. But inviting Number 6 to watch her is way out of line to my mind.

For some reason I notice that when I'm tryingto watch it thinking of one way of understanding it The Prisoner always makes me think of other ways as well, and obviously this time it's going to make me think that the Village is like a cult. In The Chimes of Big Ben this becomes especially clear in the art competition where literally every exhibit is all about the cult's charismatic leader, which is proper freaky.

Be seeing you!

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[jofdiamonds]

The day after, somebody knocked on Aki's door. Who could it be? He wasn't a person who received many visitors. Maybe... ah no, but she wouldn't. Not after what he had said, offending her so much she probably wouldn't want to see him again. His heart ached at the mere thought of not sharing any more moments with her but he knew it was what he had to do. Why, oh, why, had he chosen to stay here in the first place? If he hadn't done it, then, perhaps, they would have had a chance in the real world. He was sure he would have found her, eventually, without even trying.

His room wasn't in a proper state, either. Madness had overcome him. Ripped pages of his notebook laid everywhere, stained with tears and red wine, an empty bottle of the liquor also somewhere on the floor. Like a feral, caged animal, his only instinct had been to destroy. And since, he could never harm Airi, he went for the closest thing, the cause of all this pain: himself.

Ignoring the agony possessing him, both physically and emotionally, he opened the door. And he found a girl he had never spoken to, but had seen around. Blonde whirlwind, he had thought about her the first time he had laid eyes on her. Head full of curls, huge, slanted, brown eyes, features that revealed her foreign origin. But she spoke Japanese with no accent, and Aki couldn't help but wonder what her story was. He knew, not because he had been told, but because his eyes seemed to follow her wherever she went, that she was a close friend of Airi, but also, that she was usually in the company of his Spades counterpart... Vessel.

'Hi! Name's Cass. I have something you should read.'

Straight to the point, aren't you? Aki thought after taking the note she was handing him, a spark of curiosity in his eyes, wondering what this was all about. He couldn't help but notice Cass' fingers were covered in paint. Black paint, smeared all over them, as if she had been painting, or... could it be? Was Vessel going through the same thing he was? Did this have to do with Airi? Was it a goodbye?

Cass seemed to read his mind.

'Airi wrote this and left it in my room. She said to give it to you if she doesn't come back from her next game but... well, you should know either way, whether she comes back or not. Look, I know this is stupid but...' The young woman seemed to have problems to find the correct words. As if she wanted to say something, but also had a secret she should keep at all costs. So, yes. Vessel had also fallen in love, but the masked man had been braver (or more foolish) than he was, giving in to his desires. 'If you have your reasons, you have your reasons. That's it. But at least explain them to her? Have a conversation? So she can have a certain closure? I don't know, anyway...'

'Thank you, Cass.' Aki stopped her with a nod, looking intently into her eyes. He could tell, she understood. Of course she did. Even her posture now could tell the Jack of Diamonds she wanted this to be over soon, go back to familiar arms where she felt safe, something rare in this wasteland.

He closed the door after goodbyes were said. And read the letter.

His eyes were flooded with tears once more. He thought pain and him were old friends, but turned out, they were strangers. Nothing felt worse than this. Nothing could ever.

Her feelings were so intense... so pure, so real. And that was exactly why he had to keep away. Because he had nothing to offer her; nothing that would last. She would die, or he would. He couldn't lie to her and have her find out who he was later on.

He cried, until there was nothing left. If this was who he had to be from now on, a husk of a man, so be it. If he had to be constantly in pain so that she wouldn't, so be it. If he couldn't touch her hair or her skin or kiss those lips... so be it. She was young, it would pass.

She loved him with a frightening intensity. But it would pass.

Airi stood up, not knowing how her feet were carrying her, but grateful that they were. She wanted to tell Aki… What? What could she possibly say when he’d made it clear: “How are you going to be the one comforting me if…” He’d probably meant to say “if I want nothing from you at all” but he was too kind to say anything of the sort. 

She would have liked to turn toward him and smile at him, but she couldn’t. At least she would have liked to say “good night” to Aki, but this wasn’t an option either. Her eyes were welling up with tears, she was sure her voice would fail her if she tried to speak again, and the last thing she wanted was to break down in front of him. She let her hair fall like curtains around her face and waited until his back was to her to start walking.

How she made it to her room was anyone’s guess. She was an automaton. Airi didn’t sleep at all. The soft rays of the morning were beginning to filter through her window but she didn’t feel any of their warmth. There was a dull ache in her chest, that was her only reminder that her heart was still beating.

She lay in bed, awake, unmoving. She knew she should rest, she had to join a game that night but the moment she closed her eyes she saw his face, heard his voice. 

Eventually she decided trying to sleep was pointless. Airi was torn between her heartbreak and the inevitable anxiety that joining a game implied. Strangely enough, not coming back didn’t scare her as much as not seeing him again. She needed to tell him. An idea began to take shape in her head. She sat up and began to write a letter.

Airi didn’t leave her room at all that day. She knew that if she ran into Aki again she would probably cry and she didn’t need that right before playing for her life. By nighttime, she felt calmer. 

Before going down to the lobby to join all the players that were leaving to play a game that night, she stopped a few doors down and snuck into the room of the person she’d addressed the letter to. The room was empty. Airi had expected as much. ‘I’m sorry,’ Airi muttered to herself. She wouldn’t just barge in but she didn’t want to take the letter with her to the lobby, she left it on the bed and went back out.

As she waited in the lobby she kept her eyes resolutely glued to the floor. She didn’t want to look up and see Aki in the crowd. And she definitely didn’t want to look up and find out he wasn’t there.

[starbuckie]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

pairing(s): college!peter parker x reader, dark!steve rogers x reader, dark!sam wilson x reader, dark!bucky barnes x reader

words: 8.1k words

warnings: DARK!FIC, SMUT 18+ (unprotected sex, foursome turned fivesome, gangbang, non-con/dub-con, daddy kink, oral M and F-receiving, spit kink, degredation kink, praise kink, creampie), age-gap (reader is in her early 20s), cheating, angst, there’s like zero fluff

summary: peter should’ve made it back to the tower for date night on time, or maybe just before he found his girlfriend being fucked by three other superheroes.

a/n: eee my first dark fic! im so so happy with the way this turned out, and even though it was a pain in my ass for nearly three months, im so hapy to share it with y’all. this idea was brought up by an anon from @mypoisonedvine’s saturday sleepover a few months back, but i switched up tony and sam bc i didn’t like the tony and peter stuff. hopefully my smut has improved from the first time i wrote it in january, and just a reminder that in no way, shape, or form do i condone rape of any kind. there’s a large difference from the page and the real world. i try to put all tw’s in the tags and warnings, but if there was something i missed please tell me. thank you to my lovely bestie @mermaidxatxheart for beta-reading(i have no fucking clue what i’d do without your help). feel free to leave a comment or two and reblog, but don’t repost anywhere or i will hunt down your ass. thank you again and please please enjoy <3

main masterlist || mcu masterlist || sebastian stan characters masterlist

Bucky wasn’t planning to fuck Y/N as soon as he saw her.

It started with a faint mention, something Tony had thrown around along the lines of, “Parker’s bringing his girl down here tomorrow, don’t be an asshole”. He didn’t give a damn what Tony said or how he acted around Peter’s girl. Years of being thrown between gruesome mind-wiping and being half-dead, asleep in a freezer would do that to a man.

So the next day when Peter brought his girlfriend in, he was scratching his ass like a fucking ape and downing a beer with a messy bun at the nape of his neck, until he actually saw her. Neat hair, even neater laces with a sweet smile but a body that could kill. Didn’t matter that she was bundled under Parker’s hoodie and a pair of jeans- he could always admire a pretty dame, but Bucky could see that she was beyond that. It was as if God had intentionally made the one being, the one ethereal creature beautiful and angelic enough to be a sin away from him, so that he couldn’t touch her. Because she was young, and in her twenties, and that shouldn’t have even been the first two things that popped up in his mind because she was also Peter’s girlfriend.

But then she had the audacity to stick her hand out, a shy grin and twinkle in her eyes as she gave her name. It sounded so pretty rolling off of her tongue, and he wondered what it would sound like while he groaned it into her cunt.

Y/N. 

So, yeah, maybe Bucky wasn’t planning to fuck her as soon as he met her, but it was pretty damn close after.

-

Steve Rogers was one of very few men who said they had the pleasure of banging nearly every woman on the north side of Manhattan. Bucky indulged in the fact that the man who had once been too shy to do so much as meet a gal’s gaze was now “a dollar whore”, but he was more than happy to keep that title if it meant he could continue to get off in the nearest woman’s mouth everyday. 

Every time he walked down the streets of New York with just a simple ball cap and jeans, he could feel stares on his back from what seemed like miles away, girls on every street corner just waiting for him to take her into the nearest public bathroom and fuck them dirty. CEOs, baristas, girls fresh out of getting master’s degrees with stars in their eyes and big dreams, until he shattered them by making them gag on his cock and scream his name into bedsheets. Or tile floors. He didn’t care as long as they were screaming. The girls of this century were just too delectable to turn down. He didn’t discriminate. His dick had been in women of every height, stature, hair color, and he had quite the variety throwing themselves at him as well.

And then Tony ruined it all and sat him down with a simple explanation that the image of Captain America was being tainted with disturbing stories of girls being fucked in the ass and thrown on their knees in dirty bathroom stalls. The blond was beyond pissed when the billionaire told him to stop dicking around, but he couldn’t do anything else if he wanted to keep his title and job. In a new century, even if he’d had a few years to adjust, he was still absolutely oblivious when it came to anything outside of aliens and sex. There was nothing left for him outside of being an Avenger, so reluctantly he agreed to keep his number of conquests to a minimum, and most definitely inside of the tower rather than out on the street.

However, inside of the tower seemed to be no problem at all when Peter brought his girlfriend over, all smiles and straight A’s, and that’s when Steve realized that he’d yet to fuck a bright, little college student. He could see himself stripping her from the innocence in her eyes, loosening up her pussy with his thick cock against the wall in his room.

Surely Tony couldn’t reprimand him for spending a little time trying to bond with Peter’s new girl, right?

-

Sam Wilson was a simple man. He had a job, a well-paid one at that, somewhere to live, a girlfriend, or a woman to keep him company, that’s for sure- but for once in his life he was seeking out something other than missions, something that would keep him busy when he was feeling bored, something like-

Pleasure, and he knew that he’d finally found what he was looking for the moment Peter brought his girlfriend through the elevator doors on the fifty-sixth level of the Avengers tower. She’d shaken his hand so daintily and spoke so politely that if he were to see her without any backstory, he’d think she was another innocent, dim-witted college student, breaking her bank account every Saturday morning and naively believing that her relationship would last longer than a few months. But by the things Parker had told him, she was much more than that.

Was it shitty of Peter to tell his teammates, the people he worked with, how Y/N was in bed? By the majority’s vote, probably, and by Sam’s strict conduct of his own morals, definitely, but when Peter’s girl looked like that and he was so incredibly bored with his routine? 

Well, fuck, Sam had never been happier that the Spider-kid had told everyone how his girl gave head.

Peter brought his girlfriend in daily after that, and every one of her visits, she grew less shy and more friendly, and the Falcon saw each of his friends gape at her growing comfortability with a wolfish demeanor. It started with the water incident with Steve in the kitchen, where he so clearly spilled water on her already thin, white camisole with intention. Sam couldn’t say he was upset though, after all Steve had offered him and the rest of the Avengers quite a show when he tried to clean up her shirt, taking his sweet, sweet time to fondle her tits as subtly as he could, his eyes staring at her pebbled nipples poking through the material. He could see Bucky hiding his boner under his cereal bowl on the couch that day. 

Then of course, he’d been no better than America’s sweetheart himself when he greeted Y/N with a hug that in hindsight, was a little too enthusiastic. His large hands squeezed into the pockets of her back pocket, and if the college student found anything weird with it, she didn’t say so, but Sam graciously palmed the round globes of her ass in his hands, feeling the muscle clench under his fingers. Oh, how he’d never hugged someone that tight ever before in his life. Maybe he would’ve gotten a bit further than squeezing her ass had it not been for his own girlfriend standing behind him, ready to introduce herself to Y/N.

Bucky, well, Sam could admit that Bucky had the most guts out of all of them. Though the super-soldier was normally well-reserved and polite, the dark glint in his eyes the day he met Y/N let him in on the secret that he had a much dirtier mind than most thought. It had been movie night that time, and he barely even tried to cover up how much he wanted the girl, his hands resting all over her as they watched Inception. Hardly a movie to get so riled up over, yet Bucky’s hand still inched its way up her thigh, his rough fingers gently carressing the flesh until they started to lightly trace the apex of her thighs. 

If she noticed anything then, she didn’t comment on it, doe-like eyes just marvelling at the screen in great intrigue. It was only when Peter’s arms wrapped around her a bit tighter did she scooch away from Bucky’s touch, with a small apology and shy grin. 

That only made his dick harder.

On the other side of Bucky, his super-soldier counterpart tapped his knee gently, forcing their blue eyes to meet each other. No words had to be said between the two, three men when they looked over to Sam, because they all recognized that look they saw in each other's eyes; predatory, dark, nearly voracious in the way they all wanted to be balls deep inside of Y/N.

And they would get there. No matter how long it took, they knew that the ultimate prize of tearing their prey apart would be more than worth the wait.

-

“Hey, babe, I’m gonna be a little late. Ned and I got stuck back in the lab, so we’re gonna need to stay until eight or nine. Can you make it to the tower by yourself alright?”

Peter’s concerned voice made Y/N smile gently as she trudged along the rainy streets of New York. He always loved to worry about her, especially when it was dark and gloomy out, but she could handle herself pretty okay. By pretty okay, of course meant she could kick ass like no other twenty-something year-old, but she wasn’t one to brag. Y/N readjusted the Kate Spade purse on her shoulder with her right hand, attempting to keep her umbrella over her head with the other. “I’ll be fine, Pete, just go finish up and get back to me. I’m gonna be waiting in your room at the tower before you go off on that mission this weekend.”

A small sigh came through the speaker, “Okay, I’ll try to get back to you soon. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Pete.” 

“Oh,” she could hear the shy but no less mischievous smile that was taking over his face, “I left you a little present on the bed, make sure you open it before I get back.”

Y/N’s face heated at the implication. “Peter Parker, you dirty little-” He ended the call with a laugh, and she huffed out a small chuckle at his childish antics.

The walk to the Avengers tower would have been nice, had it not been for the downfall of rain, making everything mushy, socks being absolutely soaked through her sneakers by the time she arrived. The receptionist at the front desk, Jenny, if Y/N remembered correctly, stared at her a little oddly, probably not expecting to see the young college girl in such a state of disorder, but it didn’t affect her at all. She confidently strutted up to the elevator, pressing in the floor number where all the rooms were located. Y/N scrolled through her Twitter feed on her phone while classic rock blared through the elevator with the constant shuffling of people moving in and out. Seven minutes and thirty-two seconds later she was sprinting down the halls with soggy shoes and damp hair, her cold body screaming for warmth.

Peter’s room was the farthest down the hall, and the room was fairly empty. He rarely stayed at his room in the tower, preferring to stay with his Aunt May or keep Y/N company in Brooklyn. When she entered the room, she saw a plain white shirt and a pair of socks strewn upon the carpeted floor, but what really caught her eye was the red box wrapped in a pink bow on the bed. Deciding it would add more suspense if she opened it later, she quickly hopped in the shower, letting the hot water warm her freezing, rigid muscles under the spray. 

Peter didn’t have all the products she’d usually use before she knew they were going to have sex, so she had to make do with the half-used bar of Irish Spring and his small travel-sized bottles of shampoo and conditioner, promising the fresh, breezy smell of citrus and mint. It was a quick process; two squeezes of shampoo, shaving with the green soap as best as she could without cutting herself, one squeeze of conditioner. A fuzzy towel sat waiting for Y/N on the rack, with the Spiderman symbol as a prank gift from her to her lovely boyfriend, and without a second to let the heat leave her damp skin, she wrapped herself in it, quickly hopping out to the bedroom again.

The lingerie she set out on the bed was a deep set burgundy color, with lace decorating the delicate corset and the trim of the satin panties. The packaging really did not do it justice. Y/N grinned at the new set, one that she knew would happily be torn from her body later. A shiver ran through her as she let the cold air fall over her skin, carefully slipping the lingerie on. It was a damn shame, really; the set was quite nice, and she reminded herself to buy more of the nicely suiting color for their nights together. 

Click.

Y/N’s heart thumped with anticipation as she heard the door open and she took a quick moment to ready herself. Hair in perfect style, legs stretched along the length of the bed to make herself look as seductive as possible, a small smirk thrown on her pouty lips.

But in the darkened room, it wasn’t Peter’s shadow that appeared. Three men, three tall, bulkier men’s shadows appeared at the foot of the bed, and horror washed over her as she realized who they were. “Goddamn, dolly, I’ve imagined what you would’ve looked like under those sweaters, but this is much sweeter than I expected.”

The sinister face of Bucky Barnes came into her view, just a sliver of moonlight lighting up his pale skin. His eyes raked over Y/N’s uncovered skin, and goosebumps appeared as she tried to cover herself up under his predatory gaze.

“W-what are you doing here?” She whispered worriedly. Sam and Steve flanked the bed on either side of her, plastered sickly sweet smiles on their faces, providing her with a false sense of security that made her heart scream in fear. Though she wasn't making any noise, her lungs felt like they were going to give out, her throat closing up like an allergic reaction. 

Her head whipped every which way in robotic movement, her brain seeming to fail her as she scanned the room for an exit. Several moments of shortened breaths, cold air chilling her body, before she came out of her freezing shock to realization.

“Why are you here? Please, get out, just g-get out!”

A calloused hand pushed away Y/N’s left arm that covered her tits, and Steve groaned at the sight of her pebbled nipples. “God, baby, they’re as pretty as I thought they’d be. Been trying to feel them up all week, but you knew that, didn’t you?”

Saturday the week before at lunch when he’d spilled water over chest and tried to clean her up. Sam’s friendly hug that became a bit less friendly when his hands slipped into the back pockets of her jeans. The movie night on Monday when Bucky’s hand caressed her thigh a little too close to her core. All of their touches began to make more sense, and her eyes filled with tears at the realization. 

“Please,” she begged, tears blocking her vision, “I promise I won’t tell anyone, not even Pete, but please just go.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Steve asked. He grasped her chin roughly, his face close enough to hers so that she could feel his fiery breath on her lips. “We’re not leaving, sweetheart. You’re gonna let all three of us play with your pretty little body, and you’re gonna make the prettiest sounds for us, alright?”

Y/N shook her head violently, too afraid to make noise, but also bold enough to make one last attempt at freedom. The hand that held her chin quickly moved to slap her cheek, and she hated the way the sting made heat stir in her lower belly. She tried to shy away from their touch again, but Bucky’s face simply held the same smirk as he trailed his vibranium fingers up and down her leg. 

“Oh, come on, Y/N, don’t act all shy now. Peter has been telling us how good you’ve been to him and don’t think he hasn’t told us about your little childhood crush on little ol’ me. Been wanting to fuck you ever since.” Bucky’s hand quickly left her body, instead moving to palm over the bulge in his pants. “Fuck, sweetheart, got me real hard just thinking ‘bout your pussy swallowing my cock. Bet you’re gonna be a sweet, obedient girl for me, right?”

Fire started to course through Y/N’s veins, and with all the power she tried to dampen it down with, it seemed to push through her body that much more dangerously. She despised the fact that she could feel herself growing wet for the three older men, but God, she had never felt the need to be filled up as badly as she did in that moment.

“You’re a bit of a slut, don’t you think?” Sam mocked. He kneeled on her right, his eyes fixated on her panty-clad pussy, a wet patch already forming on the soft satin. It really didn’t help that three of her teen celebrity crushes were eyeing her nearly naked body like a piece of meat. “I mean, look at you, already growing wet and needy for three cocks. Is that what you want, honey? Parker not treating you good enough?”

She hesitated. Goosebumps rose across her skin at the sinister tone of his voice, like he already knew it was true. And it was true and she hated that Sam was right, but as amazing as Peter was a boyfriend, it was clear from the vibrator hiding in his apartment’s bathroom that he was not amazing in the sheets. Every time, she held hope that it would be better, that she would finally get to stop faking an orgasm before he rolled out of the bed with a filled up condom, but she knew deep down inside of her that it wasn’t happening anytime soon. Y/N forced herself to nod weakly at Sam’s questions, and Bucky chuckled. “Oh, you poor dolly, we’re gonna have so much fun with you. Treat you better than that little boy ever could.”

All it took was a whimper, a nearly audible, deadly silent whimper that managed to squeak its way past Y/N’s throat, and the three men took it as permission to ravage her body however they pleased.

Steve made quick work of his pants as Sam lifted her chin to kiss him, his tongue hot and heavy against her mouth, coaxing her lips open. The sound of belt buckles hitting the floor shamefully turned on Y/N even more. Panic coursed through her senses, her mind wanting to scream for them to stop, but her body knew her too well as she felt a wave of slick run down her thighs. Cold metal digits slipped under the waistband of her panties, moving to her wet folds, and she whimpered into Sam’s mouth at the touch. 

“You look so nice, baby, so pretty all laid out for us like this.” Bucky’s hands pulled down her panties as Steve pinched her peaked nipple through the lace, laying lavish, open-mouthed kisses down her torso. The cool air hit her pussy when Bucky’s hands pulled her legs wide open, fully exposed to the three men ready to use her against her will. “Knew you’d be so wet for us, sweetheart, just look at you. Dripping all for your daddies,” Steve murmured against her skin.

Hot breath fanned over her cunt before they rolled her over on her stomach, someone’s hands forcing her up onto her knees with her face smashed into the cotton pillows. She could feel two rough human hands pulling her ass cheeks apart, spreading her ever wider for their view. “Would you look at that, boys, look how fucking hot she is for us.”

Sam’s thick finger ran through her folds, the calloused pad of his finger just teasing her clit before landing a harsh smack to the inside of her thigh. Her moan was muffled through the mattress and she prayed they wouldn’t hear how being treated like whore made her wet like nothing else. 

Hot slick dripped down her thighs, a pool of it staining the pristine sheets by each knee. It was quite a sight, Steve, kneeled by the bed as his face hovered next to her ear, whispering filthy things into her ear as Bucky stroked his hard, leaking cock right next to him. Sam’s lips were making their way up the inside of her right thigh, cracked skin gliding across her sticky flesh. “Oh, baby,” he purred, “you smell so good. Bet you taste even better, don’t you, little girl?”

His tongue reached the apex of her thighs, finally licking a stipe up her center with no warning. Y/N sobbed into the comforter below her, mascara stained tears marking up her face. Two fingers edged their way between the bed and her face, forcing her head upwards and arching her back. Steve’s face was caught in a dirty smirk above hers, lip pulled taut between his teeth, until he saw the tears trailing down her face. “Oh, sweetheart, you look so desperate like this.” His fingers traced her smeared lip gloss around her lips, before opening her lips harshly. “Open up, you dumb baby.”

Y/N forced her jaw open wider, just enough to watch a string of Steve’s saliva drip into her mouth. The thick spit pooled on her tongue and she tried hard not to grimace in front of him, in hopes that he wouldn’t make her- 

“Swallow it, sweetheart.” He saw the hesitation in her eyes, how her lower lip trembled at his words, but he just laughed at her. “Now.”

The warm saliva slid down her tongue and more black tears ran down her face as she obliged his orders, finally gulping it and cringing at the taste. Steve loved the way her face screwed up in displeasure, how she still had the audacity to pretend she hated what they were doing though she was moaning and whimpering with Sam’s tongue attacking her entrance.

“What do you want, sweetheart? We might give it to you as long as you use your words.” Bucky taunted lightly.

Y/N stared up at the brunette, staring menacingly down at her with his cock in hand. “Please,” she whimpered.

The three found it woeful, the way she could barely get a full sentence out as Sam went to town with his skilled tongue, but even with that onslaught, a simple please wasn’t enough for them.

“Please what, honey,” Sam moaned from between her legs, “you gotta use your big words or we’ll never know what you want from us.”

Steve and Bucky nodded in fake-agreement even though they all knew exactly what she wanted and where. 

“I don’t-” her widened eyes glanced into Steve’s, blown-out and teary. “I don’t want anything, not from you.” She lied through her teeth harshly.

Sam removed his head from between her thighs and Y/N immediately whined at the loss of contact almost hilariously. “You don’t want anything, little girl?” 

The air felt static, every hair on her neck rising in the pressured silence. The angel and the devil clawed at her heart, each trying to show her what was right. And she wanted to sin, God knew that she would love nothing more than to let that little greedy part of her take over, but she’d already cheated on Peter and that damn good part of her conscience stole the wheels of her brain.

Slowly and shamefully, she shook her head, though the downright dirty monster inside of her wanted the men to ignore her words and keep assaulting her body. 

“That’s a shame, baby, I thought we were having fun.” Sam sighed. He met Bucky’s gaze on the side, and though they seemed to be in resignation with her wishes, their eyes twinkled devilishly. He positioned his body over Y/N’s kneeled over form, his bare chest glued to her sweating back as his hands ran up the sides of her ribcage and to her front, just barely grazing over her sensitive nipples. “You mean, you don’t want me to touch you here?”

He pinched the darkened buds and she had to use every ounce of self-restraint to not collapse at the sensation. His calloused hands moved back even further, tracing down to the stretch of skin just above her mound, swiping a finger across the skin delicately. “How about here? Or even,” he brought three fingers around her body, over her ass, and into her glistening cunt again, just rubbing along her entrance, not daring to go further in. Y/N couldn’t hold in her reaction to his prodding anymore, his teasing chipping away all of her dignity and pride in a few simple touches. 

“Yes, please, please, use your fingers,” she blurted against her will. Where shame should have washed over her, there was only lust, raging red and coursing through her body so forcefully that she felt braindead. “Put your fingers in me, daddy, please.”

The pet name rolled off of her tongue so easily and she was barely ashamed of how it made her feel. The name especially shocked the three men, who smiled even wider with their cocks harder than before at the little slip up. “That was all you had to say, dolly, gonna have your daddies make you feel real good,” Bucky laughed.

Sam finally plunged his thick fingers knuckle-deep into her cunt as Steve’s mouth captured hers, effectively swallowing her scream with ferocity. The long digits scissored and swirled inside of her, pressing against new unexplored areas that she’d never even gotten to with her own fingers. White dots danced along the front line of her vision as teeth clashed against hers and though it’d been mere minutes she already knew she was close and the men did as well.

“I can feel you clamping around my fingers, honey,” Sam taunted. His lips were moving sinfully around her ass, planting sloppy kisses and drooling all over her skin while he fingered her deep. “Are you gonna come soon, baby?”

“Yes, daddy, I’m so- fuck,” Y/N panted into Steve’s mouth, “m’ so c-close.” The blond bit her tongue hard enough for her to taste blood and she yelped as she heard Sam and Bucky laugh. 

“Watch your language, dolly,” Bucky sneered from the side of the bed. His hand was rapidly moving around his cock, corkscrew motions edging him towards the brink of pleasure. 

“Little girls like you don’t get to use big swear words,” Sam’s face was still buried between her legs, his soaked fingers pulling out of her cunt only to rub at her little pearl of nerves in circles. His tongue still lapped at her dripping entrance and he could feel her tight hole start to pulse as her breathing picked up. “Oh, baby, you’re getting close, aren’t you?”

Y/N was hesitant to answer at first, the sweat on her body seeming to cool immediately in fear of what would happen if she messed up. But after five seconds Steve stopped kissing her, gripping her chin and staring into her eyes deeply. He looked as debauched as she felt, with his rosy lips swollen with spit and cheeks tinged with pink. “Are you gonna answer daddy, sweetheart?”

That knocked her into shape real fast.

“Yes, daddy, I’m so close. P-please let me come,” she whimpered. The whine in her voice pleased the two men, and Steve went back to exploring her mouth before she felt something poking against her asshole.

“Gonna let daddy put his cock in you, little girl?” Sam asked gently. His words had panic coursing through her system, a chilling realization like water being poured on her head and she began to wiggle around, trying to free Sam’s hand from her hip. Her arms weakly pushed at Steve’s chest, trying to push him as far away as he could, but the men only laughed at her flailing limbs. Y/N wanted to scream no to them, and despite her contrasting love-hate relationship with Sam’s fingers inside her cunt she knew it was time to go. It was laughable how much she would continue to say that to herself for the rest of the night. 

But Sam managed to sense her panic, knowing exactly what the issue was before harshly spanking her and effectively stopping her struggle. “Don’t worry, baby, I won’t come inside of you. I’m not risking knocking up a whore with my kids, I’ve got more dignity than that.”

He led the leaking tip of his dick down her crack, rubbing it along her slick entrance before pushing in with a groan. “Oh my fucking God, that is so hot.” Bucky admonished from the side. “Gotta get in on that soon.”

Steve chuckled against Y/N’s lips, pulling away with a strand of saliva connecting them. He adjusted himself up so his dick was centimeters from her face, a knee propped up on the bed for balance. “Gotta wait your turn, Buck, we all want a piece of her.” He noticed the way Y/N’s eyes were transfixed on his cock, the red mushroom head smeared with precome along the slit, nearly purplish veins standing out prominently on his shaft. Yeah, he couldn’t even deny that he was big because he already knew how many girls had dropped down on their knees for him. “Go ahead, sweetheart, open up those pretty lips for me.”

Almost too excitedly, she dropped her jaw, allowing him to slide his cock into the silky warmth of her mouth. As his hips started to thrust into her mouth, Sam’s started to do the same into her cunt. Both men moaned in tandem with their movements as Y/N’s worries faded away to the back of her mind as they stuffed her to the brim.

“You can come now, baby,” Sam nearly ordered, “go and cream on daddy’s cock- fuck, I know you’ve been waiting.”

It was a harsh bump of his head against her G-spot that sent her over the edge, walls clamping down with ferocity and milking him for all she was worth. Y/N reeled in the sunlight infested warmth that coursed through her body as she finally let go, whining around Steve’s dick as he continued to abuse her throat with long, deep thrusts. 

Bucky was still holding his orgasm off, fondling with his tight, heavy sac while his dick remained a painfully hard mess, glistening with precome. “I’m so glad I got to see you come, dolly, look so fucking pretty when you do.”

She couldn’t deny the little skip of her heart at the praise, just a few simple words that made her feel like a good little girl. But no, God-fucking no, she wasn’t supposed to let them make her feel this way. Guilt washed away that warmth in her chest just as quickly, knowing that her boyfriend was just waiting to come back to see her, finishing up his studies so that they could live their lives out together after college while she was getting her pussy and mouth absolutely wrecked by his co-workers. 

As soon as Y/N got her brain thinking straight again, Sam started moving inside of her again and she garbled out a strangled cry. “If you thought we were done here, baby,” Sam laughed, “you’ve got a lot left ahead of you.”

“We’re not leaving until all of us have come, brat.” Steve’s palm gripped the back of her skull roughly, pushing her head so far down on his dick that her nose was squished against his abdomen. “Greedy little bitch.”

Both men started to thrust into her again, and just like that she was back to being absolutely lost in desire and lust like the bitch in heat she was until there was a sudden shift in the air. So much that the sweat on her body began to cool her skin, Sam’s hands still gripping her hips so tightly she knew they’d leave marks that she would have to hide when she wore her favorite low-cut shorts. 

Bucky’s eyes seemed to drift from her tits moving with each movement of her hips, checking behind the door as if there were something lurking there, but she was too afraid to see for herself. If she stopped she would get spanked, and they’d probably prolong her second orgasm even further, and her pussy couldn’t handle any more subtle teasing.  

“Hey there, Parker, why don’t come on out here?”

But that, that was what made the hairs on Y/N’s neck rose, dread filling her to the fullest as she realized the implications of Sam’s words.

Peter had seen everything. Peter, her boyfriend, had seen three of his co-workers, three men who she barely knew, fuck her deep into his mattress. Peter, her boyfriend, had watched her get fucked into his mattress, without trying to stop them whatsoever.

She couldn’t tell if it was the guilt of cheating on her boyfriend or the freezing realization that he hadn’t done anything to stop the three men that hurt more. 

Yet Peter still walked from behind the door, dressed in a NYU hoodie and a pair of khakis slung low on his hips, just drawing attention to the sizable bulge that stretched out his zipper. His umber eyes, normally full of so much joy and love, were possessed by the same lust and darkness as the three men, as much as he tried to hide it behind a shyer facade. 

His eyes were trained on the tightness of how Y/N’s pussy was gripping Sam, her lips glossed over with come and spit wrapped around Steve’s dick. The girl stopped in her movements, her eyes no longer full of tears for just being gagged, but as soon as her mouth came to a halt around the base of his cock, the blond slapped her across the face. A sharp crack echoed around the room and though she couldn’t see him, she heard Bucky’s feral growl of pleasure at the whorish treatment she was receiving. 

“Didn’t say you could fucking stop, sweetheart, keep working on daddy’s cock.” No more words needed to be said as Steve gripped her hair once more, forcing himself farther back into her throat to the point where she couldn’t breathe. Sam’s thrusts were quickening, closer and closer to release as the sounds of the girl struggling to breath made his balls tighten. 

“Fucking shit, baby, you feel yourself squeezing my dick? I bet you like teasing daddy like that, don’t you?” One of his hands were brought down on her ass in a quick smack that resonated with Bucky, who was staving off his orgasm for something much sweeter than his hand. She was moaning raucously around the dick stuffed in her mouth, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure up every nerve in Steve’s body as he came with the tip of his dick nearly being swallowed by Y/N’s throat. There was barely any time for her to fully down the thick come in her mouth before Sam was threatening to orgasm. “I’m gonna come so soon but you better fucking not, little girl, you hear me? Gotta let your daddy come before you, you ungrateful little bitch- oh.”

It was a really fucking close call, Sam’s dick pulling out of her with one quick movement before spilling pearly ropes of come onto Y/N’s spine. A high whine escaped her mouth, clit throbbing as she was so, so close to coming, and she was too far into her crazed pleasure to realize that she was letting three older men, men who fought to defend the universe from evil, use her as an over-glorified fleshlight. 

She couldn’t really blame them for calling her a cockdrunk whore. 

Bucky sauntered over to the bed, eyes trained on the pool of come centered around the base of her spine before flipping her over onto her back with his large hands and shoving three vibranium fingers back into her hole. She gasped and held onto his forearm as he continued to fingerfuck her to her second orgasm, eyes screwed shut in a delirious haze of contentment for being filled with at least something again. 

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, please-” Steve slapped her along the face, correcting her words immediately. “Daddy, daddy, please let me come.”

Bucky chuckled, tweaking one of her nipples with his flesh hand as he hovered over her face. “I don’t know, dolly, you’ve been a little naughty, callin’ me the wrong name, not listening to Stevie’s orders- don’t think you deserve to get what you want.”

A muffled whimper escaped her swollen lips, and he sighed in surrender. “Okay, dollface, go ahead and come on my fingers. Let me see how you wet ‘em up real good.”

Y/N’s hips bucked into his metal digits with finality, come leaking out of her cunt and soaking the sheets below her. Her sweat-glazed skin shone even against the darkening sky, and all Bucky could do was chuckle at how her chest rose quickly as she tried to catch her breath. He thought about teasing her clit again, just circling around the little bud of nerves to get a rise out of her, but he decided against it. Sam probably had better plans for her anyway. 

On the other hand, Y/N’s orgasm was starting to wear off as she noticed the hardened stare from the edge of the room. Her boyfriend.

“Peter, I…” Y/N made eye contact with him, suddenly noticing how mousy he looked in his own bedroom. 

“I nearly forgot you were here, Parker,” Sam smirked darkly. “Why don’t you come over here and fuck your little whore. I’m feeling a little generous today.”

Steve and Bucky nodded with the same infuriating smugness as Sam. The brunette boy opened his mouth to object to the degrading statement, but when he met his girlfriend’s eyes nothing needed to be said. There was no escaping this. Nothing he said mattered to the three older men, because really they had already gotten everything they wanted right in front of their disgusting, perverted eyes. 

He unbuckled his belt, letting the weight of it drop his khakis to the floor. Maybe if he’d known he would be forced into join a fivesome later that night he’d have picked any other boxers but the Ducktales one, but no one seemed to say a word about them, rather focusing on what they were failing to conceal. 

Peter’s cock had always been admirable to Y/N by its length and God, definitely its thickness. Curved upwards towards his abdomen with a vein running along the left side up to the bulbous head, it was definitely more than average. It was really just a shame he didn’t know how to use it well enough.

His shirt was pulled over his head just as quickly, and if Y/N knew any better she would say that he was excited to get to fuck her in front of the three men. He placed himself in between Y/N’s parted legs, standing in the same position as he had so many times before.

But when Y/N cried out in pain and pleasure as he slid into her, Peter knew that this time, it was different. This time three men, men that he used to trust with his life, stood on either side of him and his girlfriend and jerked their hands up and down their cocks as they watched her get fucked relentlessly. It wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t romantic, but he couldn’t really think when his thick cock was stuffed inside of her stimulated pussy, juices and come leaking out of her abused sex. 

“Go faster, Parker,” Steve instructed, his face contorted in pure pleasure. The pace of Peter’s thrusts sped up, and he threw Y/N’s ankles over his shoulders, hitting deeper inside of her, with the sound of her sobs only turning them all on more. “Oh, right there, shit, shit, shit-”

Steve came first, a low groan escaping his lips as streams of come landed on her tits, still bouncing with every movement of Peter’s hips. 

“Open up,” Sam gritted through his teeth, and Y/N obediently opened her mouth to let his bitter come coat the inside of her throat, some of it landing on her face and neck. The string of curses he let out made Peter thrust even faster into her, and he hated, absolutely despised the way it turned him on to see the three men use his girlfriend to their pleasure. But soon enough a hand pushed against his chest away from Y/N and he reluctantly pulled out.

“Move aside, kid,” Bucky instructed, “Wanna come inside of her.”

As he lined his gigantic cock up with her entrance, her eyes widened with fear. “No, please, I didn’t take my pills, I can’t- I won’t, please not inside-”

“Shut the fuck up, you slut.” Bucky’s fingers came to slap her clit harshly, and she cried out in pain. “You’re gonna be quiet and let me come wherever I damn want, right?”

He punctuated his last word as he thrust inside her, filling her up to the hilt with his girth. She was too drunk on the feeling of her cunt being filled up to argue again. It was painful, extremely so, even though two different cocks had been inside her overstimulated pussy already and Bucky stretched her out wide, his cock thicker with veins to hit every pleasure point. With her legs tossed around his tapered torso, he slid out until his very tip was left in her, then slammed back in with a small moan. The head of his cock relentlessly pounded into her cervix in a nearly soundless tempo and all Y/N could hear were her own gasps of pleasure, jaw-dropping moans that made drool slide back down her throat in her laid down position.

She turned her head to the side, and though her vision was bleary through the tears, she could see Sam and Steve watching Bucky fuck her while Peter, her boyfriend, her sweet, sweet boyfriend, was caught up fucking his hand to the sound of Bucky’s balls slapping against her ass. 

“Fuck, ‘m not gonna last much longer, dollface.” Bucky gasped. “You gonna come soon? You’re gonna come for daddy one more time. I think you’ve got a third one in you, you little fucking slut.”

“Shit, shit, daddy, please ‘m almost there,” Y/N wailed absentmindedly. A thumb came down to circle her clit quickly and she felt the coil in her stomach grow tighter and tighter, until she finally let out a high whine, finding her release as Bucky’s cock pulsed inside of her, ready to come just as easily as her. Her pussy clenched around his cock as she rode out her orgasm, fingers grasping at the sheets in order to find some sort of grounding. His come painted her walls white, and Bucky could’ve sworn there was no better feeling than feeling his blood warm in every vein as he finally let go. With stunted groans, his hips slowed its rhythm, lost in watching how his cock disappear into Y/N’s pussy, her slick juices coating his dick each time he pulled out. 

“Ah, fuck, dolly, you did so good for me. Pussy tight as a fuckin’ vice.” Bucky hugged her limp body close to his sweaty chest, letting his dick soften inside of her for a good few moments before pulling out. He tossed Y/N back onto the bed below him, barely even caring to clean the come dripping down her ribcage and out of her cunt before grabbing his boxers from the cabinet next to the bed. 

Steve was already buttoning his jeans up, checking the notifications on his phone before shoving it back into his pocket. The blond seemed to have better things to do so soon after, rushing his way to the door before pausing where Y/N laid to watch come drip out of her pussy. One more time he pushed Bucky’s come inside of her abused entrance, watching as it oozed out from behind his digits. “Look at you, fucking full of of his come. Such a goddamn whore,” he muttered under his breath.

Those were the last words he said to her before patting Bucky on the shoulder and leading him out of the opened door. 

Maybe Sam was a bit more kind, or affectionate at least. He was already dressed but visibly hard again beneath the thick denim of his pants, and he made sure Y/N knew it, taking her left hand and placing it over his dick. “You still got that effect on me, honey, even when you’re all fucked out like this.” He dragged his fingers through the thick ribbons of come that coated her chest, bringing them up to her mouth so she could taste. Even though she was more than exhausted, she wrapped her tongue around the two fingers that were pushed past her swollen lips, sucking them clean with a tired vengeance. Satisfied with her work, he kissed her chin one more time before leaving without so much as another word, slamming the door shut on his way out.

Click.

It ended exactly the way it started, the lock jostling into the doorknob just as easily as the high of Y/N’s final orgasm slipped away.

Stifling silence suffocated the room around them. Peter refused to meet her eyes, just as much as hers did his. She laid motionless on the bed with him standing at the foot, his dick soft and if she narrowed her bleary eyes just a bit, she could see how his knees were shaking. Neither of them were able to say anything, losing the ability to converse as soon as the three men left the room.

“Peter,” her voice was throaty after the rough fucking she took, “C-can you please get me a drink?”

The brown-haired boy looked down to meet her face, and she could finally see the reason that he had hid it from her. His eyes were red and bloodshot, snot running from his nose with tears running down his cheeks. She’d been so caught up in the after haze of the sex that she didn’t even notice how his bare chest was heaving so deeply, nearing hyperventalation. 

But still, he grabbed his boxers, pulling them over his weakened legs clumsily. “Y-yeah, what kind do you want, Mr. Stark has a ton-”

“I don’t care.” She cut him off firmly, a sharp tone in her voice as she rolled over on her side. Y/N tucked her knees to her chin, fingers running over the side of her neck which was marked with bruises and scratches. “I don’t fucking care.”

Without another word Peter slipped out of the room quietly, knowing better than to try to talk to her about what they had been forced to participate in. It wasn’t as if there was much to say anyways.

Rain pattered against the window. It was only six o’clock in the evening. Cars honked and beeped and Natasha’s Igor Stavinsky record played for its fiftieth round of the day, and to anyone else in the tower it was a normal night. Normal, just like the ones spent sitting on the couch with Bucky’s hand creeping up her leg or Sam’s hands groping her ass, but this time they’d made a move. 

The silence was far too much to handle, the unspoken truth of what she’d done with Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Peter finally hitting her, knocking the air out of her lungs as she suddenly struggled to breathe. Gripping her face, clawing at it like a goddamn wolf, Y/N began to cry. Silently at first, gradually growing into heartbroken sobs, she let her trodden pride carry her voice wherever it wanted to go. 

The men’s whispered words haunted her mere moments after they’d left the room, but most audibly she could hear a faint husk of a voice, Sam’s low moan in her ear looming in the dreadful silence of the room:

Thanks for sharing with us, baby.

[plan-d-to-i]

Okay but let’s be honest here for a second, JC stans don’t even stan the actual character, they stan their OC/fanon version of JC, because all the things they attribute to him as his positives and reasons why “he’s a good an complex character” are not even real:

He’s a good sect leader: he’s not, the regular people his sect is supposed to protect are scared of him (as we were told in canon by the innkeeper lady before wangxian confronted jgy). So his people are terrified of him, he constantly grabs people to torture them, the other sects have shaky relationships with him and he doesn’t even have an heir

He’s a good guardian to JL: hell no, he raised that kid on a diet of spite and hatred and made him as insecure, entitled and full of rage as him. JL’s only saving grace was getting to know WWX and the other juniors and expanding his social circle, which helped him grow much more in like 3 months than his uncle did in over 20 years.

He’s actually a caring brother deep down!: is he? Like even putting aside how shitty of a “brother” he was to WWX, he wasn’t even that good to JYL either. Sure he cared for her and all that, but he was more than ready to give her away to the Jin sect when she was still apprehensive about the marriage, he completely ignored her last dying wish by killing the guy she sacrificed her life for and then raised her son in the worst way possible to be as bitter as him.

He raised his sect from nothing!: well considering YunmengJiang wasn’t destroyed or burned during the sunshot campaing (as we can see from the novel) and considering he received support from the other clans in getting soldiers during the campaign, had the best soldier in the whole war on his sect and because of said soldier attracted lots of disciples after the war was over, how much else was there left to do? Do his sect duties and organize things? Like Xichen had to do after his sect burned down and his dad died, while he also had to fight a war and help people along the way?

Sorry for the rant Plan, just needed to vent a little after seeing so many JC stans talking about this incredible fabrication they concocted in their minds.

Lol no worries go off!! <3 Sorry this is so delayed! x

I agree. there's definitely this vibe jc stans try to give jc of ~emotionally abusive asshole on the outside, covering a heart of gold! Sometimes assholes on the outside are just assholes on the inside tho. That's the more frequent one tbh. It's also a funny attitude in general, bc someone might have a heart of gold on the inside (still not jc tho) but if their actions only end up hurting people and they're just a horrible person to be around what's on the inside hardly matters.

Now I think it's true that jc made Yanli's death all about himself (like everything else ever) but I wouldn't say that "he was more than ready to give her away to the Jin sect when she was still apprehensive about the marriage". Ofc it's an easy marriage to approve of. It was something YZY wanted and jc's thinking has always been in line w hers and socially he's a good match being a Clan heir himself but jc isn't a political, machiavellian juggernaut. I mean I know jyl stans want to act like jyl was a strong independent woman who didn't need no man and she was forced into marriage and had her dreams of being a Clan leader crushed but that's because they're 🤡. jyl always liked jin ZiXuan. And it's not a bad call on her part. He's by far one of the better dudes in the story. She just thought after soupmageddon he found her presence truly bothersome and would never think well of her, so she didn't want to impose on him. ~"Wei WuXian knew she feared that Jin ZiXuan was only inviting her due to Madam Jin’s intentions and didn’t really want to have her with him, so she didn’t wish to trouble him. However, what could Jin ZiXuan know about this?" and ofc in his embarrassment Jin Zixuan initially confirmed this exact fear: "Jin ZiXuan’s voice was ice, “What should you be sorry for? You can think whatever you want to. I wasn’t the one who wanted to invite you anyways. It’s fine if you don’t want to.” This is ofc all cleared up by his shouted confession.

jc is an idiot but I think it's funny he was one of the first to cotton on to the fact there was something different about the way that WWX was treating LWJ from day 1, he was just too homophobic to get what it was and he knew jyl liked jzx AND SHE DID. That's all.

[tale-as-old-as-time-au]

"-How come you never SAW a freaking library?

-Small village. Twelve books in the whole town. Weren't you paying any attention?

-Well, yeah, but have you never visited an actual town? They all got libraries.

-I went to Paris when I was a little girl, but…

-You're still a little girl.

-Haha, very funny. I'm just short, I'm not…! OH MY GOD!!

They arrived at the library and, as soon as Papyrus pushed the big doors, Chara squeaked, absolutely thunderstruck. Books. Hundreds of books. Thousands of books. Dozens of thousands of books proudly stared back at her from their shelves. The human walked inside the room with her hands covering her shocked mouth. She was beyond amazed. The king watched intently as Chara placed her hands over the nearest books, touching them with reverence. Then, in a quick motion, she grabbed a bunch of those books and sat on the ground, firmly hugging them.

-I'm dreaming - she murmured, extasiated, her face buried against the books - I know I'm dreaming, please don't wake me up just yet, I'm in my personal paradise.

Huh. That girl… actually looked kinda cute.

Papyrus coughed, shoving that thought aside for later. Hell, if he was supposed to fall in love with Chara to break the curse, it was a good thing she was cute. She didn't seem very bright on that book-searching-trip story.

-So, uh… - he started, rubbing his skull - We couldn’t get new books ever since the curse started (for obvious reasons), but you said it was an old book, right? So there is a chance we can find the next one here. Uh, someday - he added after glancing at the castle's vast collection and frowning - This is not the most organized library unfortunately. As I told ya, the kid's nursery is also located on this wing, so it's not rare that they come in here and mess things up, those little brats.

Chara beamed at his words.

-Oh my, you're right!! The sequel could be right here!! - she got up from the floor and placed the books she was holding back into the shelf, quickly checking each one's cover before doing so - I mean, if I'm trapped here forever I might as well look for it. I wonder if the sequel's cover is the same color of the first book…

-That's not a rule, it could be different - Papyrus said, also approaching the shelf - I guess I can help you search for a bit. What's the name of the book you read, by the way?

-"It ends now".

-And the sequel?

-"It starts now".

-Wha…? - the monster paused in the middle of picking up a book, turning at the girl - It ends… Then it starts? That doesn't make any f*cking sense!

Chara was smiling and cocking her head when he questioned her.

-Well, you have to read it to understand - she declared, shrugging.

-Nah, I'm not into girly books.

-Wha… It 's not girly!! What, just because I'm a girl all books I like will be girly? That's absurd!!

She placed her hands on her hips, visibly outraged. That made Papyrus snort.

Ok, she was cute.

-Right, gimme the book - he reached one hand in her direction, grinning - I'll be the judge of that.

Chara took the old volume out of her pocket but hesitated while looking at the king, finally speaking in all the seriousness she could muster.

-If you damage this book in any way…

-What? - the skeleton laughed, amused - Is that a threat? What could you do to me, little girl?

Heck, their size difference was huge. Only in height they had, what, a 50 cm gap? Maybe more? Has she failed to notice it at all?

Oh, she noticed. Right at that moment, at least, she noticed. They were standing very close and Chara had to lift her chin to face the king, who was indeed tall. That realization set all sorts of alarms on the girl's head. They were alone. If he ever tries to hurt her, there is nothing she can do to stop him. Crap, Chara got so excited about the prospect of seeing a real library she lost sense of danger. Being alone with that skeleton she barely knows could be dangerous.

Actually, even if the bitties were around… Papyrus was their king. If he ever decides to beat her up - or worse - would they even try to stop him?

Chara hoped she never had to find that out.

Unaware of the girl's disturbed thoughts, the king took the book from her hands, examining its cover.

-Right, I'll be careful. But that's quite damaged already, did you forget it on the stove or something? 

He pointed at an ugly mark on the back cover. It definitely looked burned.

The human took a deep breath, controlling her wild emotions. Papyrus wasn't acting in a threatening way right then, so there was no reason to panic. She just needed to keep her guard up, that's all.

-It was already like this when I bought it, ok? - Chara explained, cautiously taking a step back.

The king didn't seem to notice, frowning as his sockets examined the old book once again.

-I hope it was cheap.

-It definitely wasn't - the girl murmured, embarrassed, then her face suddenly lit up with a smirk - But hey, at least I didn't have to kidnap an old man to get this book, your majesty.

-Well, f… - Papyrus had to forcefully stop himself on that word. He would not get any points with Chara unless he starts controlling his tongue - …Forget about that. I’ll search on the top shelves, ok?

-Ok, thanks - she gave the monster the tiniest smile before turning back to the shelf, ready to begin her long, long search.”

~

Previous

Next

Masterpost

~

ML SPEAKING

"It ends now" and "It starts now" are NOT real books, but they're inspired by the things I felt while reading "It ends with us". That book starts as a dumb romance, but THEN it took a shift that just hit me like a fucking truck. It was unexpected as fuck and I was mesmerized by it. I guess I like unexpected stuff.

(It's NOT for everyone though, there's some heavy sh*t in that book!! One friend was reading with me and literally gave up reading when the shift happened)

But again: that's NOT the book Chara read. "It ends now" is different. It's way better, by the looks of it. I kinda wanna read it too now…

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Like Another Tattoo

Summary: Eddie learns to appreciate the scars he's covered in, one comment and show at a time. His friends also manage to make him cry.

Word Count: 2,706

Warnings: descriptions of wounds, vague mention of self-harm scars, mention of S4E9, body dysmorphia (about scarring)

Note: I wrote this originally as a daily writing exercise of writing blurbs for the words in the book The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows by John Koenig. The word 'scabulous' is defined as being "proud of a certain scar on your body, which is like an autograph signed to you by a world grateful for your continued willingness to play with her, even if it hurts". I thought it fit Eddie a little too well not to make a little blurb out of it. It's hardly polished because I had no original intention of posting it anywhere, but alas, here I am.

I'm debating also making a similar one for Steve, just with less rockstar themes.

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Most people had scars on their knees or elbows from falling while riding a bike. Maybe there were scars from an incident while cooking, or something at work. Some people had scars that proved they were strong enough to keep going even when they didn’t want to because they were still here after everything.

Eddie didn’t have those kinds of scars. He had scars that told a story of a different realm, a story of a world far more gruesome than the real one. His scars said I saved all of you from something far worse than you could have ever imagined.

He wasn’t proud of them at first. He hated them more than anything when he woke up, spluttering and coughing up blood and in pain. They’d been wounds then, gaping and horrifying, already infected. He’d had to pick the stones out of them, whimpering his pain every time his numb, cold, and trembling fingers brushed over what should have been covered muscle. He hissed when he walked and tried to find a way home, only to find the rifts in his trailer and Lover’s Lake closed, meaning he’d limped the whole way there with his clothes scratching at his open wounds for nothing. He’d watched them ooze and bleed and blister and become more and more infected for his whole year (or two, he’d lost count of the days) in the Upside Down. He’d watched them heal only to be ripped open days later when he had to fend off a demodog or demobat who’d smelled him and thought he could be an easy meal. He’d passed out too many times when they refused to heal. And he couldn’t quite get the look of disgust and horror on Nancy’s face when she’d realized his wounds were still as bad as the day he’d “died”, if not worse.

It wasn’t until 1990 that Eddie caught a glimpse of his scars in the mirror that he began to stop hating them. It was the night of a small, regular gig for Corroded Coffin, not one of their big ones with sold out stadiums way outside of Hawkins. This was just a little show, only five songs or so, being played in a dingy bar on the outskirts of town. But when Eddie struggled to get his head through his shirt and finally figured it out, he glanced toward the mirror to straighten out his shirt, and there was that glimpse. The scars weren’t faint by any chance, and it was hard to miss them normally. But for the first time, Eddie didn’t feel the usual twinge of whatever it was—disgust or humiliation or shame—when he looked at those scars. He looked at them and felt…relief, was it?

You are alive, the scars seemed to say, and Eddie wondered if that was what Steve had meant when they’d talked about their shared scarring. Maybe it really was a reminder that they had gotten out of the Upside Down alive—and, well, considering everything? They were pretty damn lucky to even have gotten that far. 

Eddie stared at the scars peeking out from under the hem of his Black Sabbath shirt. “Maybe you’re not so bad after all,” he said to them, then felt weird because he was talking to what was technically himself but didn’t quite feel like a part of him.

And, on impulse, Eddie tugged off the Black Sabbath shirt and found an old one from well over five years ago—the AC/DC shirt he’d cropped himself that he’d practically lived in in his junior year. He hesitated in the mirror for a few seconds, staring at the now clear scars, and grabbed his leather jacket, just in case. It would be far too hot on a big stage, but Eddie pointed to himself in the mirror and made a promise:

“If you can get through tonight just fine, we’ll go from there, got it?”

He knew from the nervous twinge in his stomach his brain understood exactly what it was telling him.

Eddie grabbed his guitar, muttering “you can do this, you can do this, you can do this” more times than necessary but feeling better after he had.

~❊~

“Whoa!” called Gareth, who had spotted Eddie first at the bar. “Rad scars, man!”

Eddie felt the warmth of relief and acceptance flood his chest. “Uh. Thanks, man.”

“You ready for tonight?” Jeff asked, hauling an amp toward the curtain separating the stage from the audience and the bar. 

“Born ready,” said Eddie and Gareth together. They grinned at each other.

And just like that, Eddie felt at ease. No more comments were made until after the show.

Steve and Dustin were waiting for the band at the back of the bar. Dustin waved his arms erratically to get them over, Eddie still lugging his guitar with him. He laughed as Dustin threw himself around Eddie, gushing about the guitar trick Eddie had pulled on stage, one he usually reserved for large crowds.

“That was awesome, dude!” Dustin yelled over the noisiness of drunk bar patrons. “You guys sound amazing, you always do, but—” His conversation became directed to the other band members and Steve waved Eddie over, holding up a beer. Eddie waved it away.

“I like the confidence,” Steve said with a proud grin like the ones he’d given the kids when they graduated and got accepted into their colleges, if they had actually gone to one. “And the shirt.”

Eddie grinned bashfully and sat down next to him, putting his guitar on the ground. “What can I say? They’re not so bad after all, I guess.”

Steve opened his mouth with what was likely a sappy but good Harrington line about Eddie’s newfound confidence, but shut it just as quickly, staring over Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie frowned. “What?”

A finger tapped his shoulder. He jumped and turned only to find a skittish girl with a shy smile behind him, chewing on her lip nervously. “Hi?”

“I, uh, I wanted to…” She looked away, biting her cheek. Eddie snapped his fingers at the band and Dustin, who were staring at the poor girl, and they turned back to their conversation. She smiled at him again, a little more easily this time. “I want to say. I like your scars as much as I like your music.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped open. He was aware he should say something—thank her, probably—but it was one thing to be told by friends, some of whom knew the story behind the scars, to be told they looked cool. It was another for a random girl to like them so much she felt the need to tell him.

“Sorry, that was, um, forward, I probably shouldn’t’ve—”

“No, no, no, it’s okay! I…I appreciate it. I’m just learning to appreciate them myself.”

“They’re hot,” she said, shuffling on her feet as she said it. “You should, um…show them off more. You’d get a lot of fans that way,” she added with a laugh.

Steve clapped Eddie on the shoulder. “Told ya!” he said good naturedly. Then he winked at the girl. “I’ve been telling him for years.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “You know,” he said to the girl, throwing Steve a sly look, “my friend Steve here has the same scars.”

The girl’s eyes widened as Steve and Eddie winked at her, almost in perfect unison. “I, uh, I’m…” A second girl appeared behind her and grabbed her wrist, shouting something indiscernible in her ear. She pointed toward the bar’s door. “I’m sorry, I gotta go!” She scribbled on a napkin. “I gotta drive my friends home. But I’m going to more of your concerts. And, um—” She threw the napkin at them as she was being dragged away. “Call me!”

The napkin had a phone number on it. Eddie picked it up. “Which of us do you think she was talking to?”

Steve nursed his beer. “Probably you. She was already a fan of your music, she said she’s going to your concerts—you should call her up later.”

Eddie tossed the napkin at Steve. “Nah, you call her. She’s your type anyway, not mine.”

“You sure?”

“You need the help, man, you’ve been girlfriendless for a while now. Me? Picking up girls’ll be easy from now on if that interaction was any indication.” Eddie winked at an exasperated Steve, who rolled his eyes but said, “Fair enough.”

~❊~

August 1, 1992. The first day of Corroded Coffin’s tour. Their record label had said they had never seen a band grow so much so fast or gain such huge popularity overnight, comparing them to Queen. It was praise the band blushed under, but they jokingly attributed their success to Eddie’s scars. They were prominent on every album cover, even the most recent one, which had been drawn by an artist—who had insisted on painting Eddie’s scars underneath his leather jacket. 

“They’re certainly eye-catching,” Eddie had laughed, looking at the album cover the first time they found it in a record store. Of course, Steve had called him just to laugh about it on the phone, hardly getting out words between wheezing laughs. 

Now a month later, their first tour was beginning. Eddie was slightly terrified, panicking about messing up some crucial part of the music, even though he’d always been fine before in front of huge audiences.

This isn’t a huge audience anymore, it’s a massive one.

Eddie shook himself out and slowed down his breathing, pacing across their stage for their tests and warmups, just a few hours before night would fall and the show would begin—promptly at 9 p.m., if all went well.

“We got this, man!” Gareth promised. “Don’t sweat off your eyeliner.”

Jeff snorted. “Don’t say that too loud, the girls’ll go even more feral for him.”

“Don’t be jealous,” Gareth chided jokingly. “Seriously, though, Ed—you’re gonna do great, just like you always do. If you ever doubt the audience is in love with you, just take your shirt off, they’ll start begging you to marry them.”

The comment got exactly the reaction Gareth wanted—a full-bodied laugh from Eddie that made all of his prior anxieties seem small. He was with his band. Gareth was right—they’d be perfectly fine. They knew their music well, and Gareth was right; if the band messed up, Eddie could always throw off his shirt to distract them all.

Which wasn’t quite how it happened, but it happened nonetheless.

Halfway through the concert, Eddie paused between songs, grinning at the crowd of fans chanting “MUNSON, MUNSON, MUNSON!” at the top of their lungs. He raised a hand and waved at them, laughing at their high-pitched reaction.

He glanced over at Gareth, who mimed taking off his own shirt. Eddie raised his brows. Gareth nodded and mouthed Give them what they want! You got this!

Eddie put his guitar down, spreading his arms in front of the crowd. He made a show of stripping off his leather jacket, earning a particularly loud scream from one girl close to the front. He shook with laughter. “You alright out there?” he said into the mic.

“SHE PASSED OUT!” one of her friends yelled forward.

“Pity she didn’t stay awake a minute longer,” Eddie said, shrugging out of his shirt and tossing it. He winced as it went into the audience. “I’m never getting that back again, am I?”

“NO!” someone shouted. Eddie laughed and the same person shouted, “NICE SCARS!”

Eddie felt the soft smile spread across his face before he realized the comment had melted away the nervousness lingering around the idea of so many people seeing his scars in real life. “Thank you,” he said, his voice just as soft as his smile. He picked up his guitar again. “Alright, drool over me later. Ready, Gareth?”

“Ready, Eddie!” Gareth said with a wink, and they struck a chord together. The crowd screeched as they recognized the opening measures.

~❊~

September 18, 1992. Eddie woke up with a distinct empty feeling in his chest. The last concert of their tour had been last night, and the bittersweet feeling he’d ended the show with still in his chest the following morning. Touring was a stressful, tedious business, but he’d miss the interactions with the audience.

He’d miss people excitedly coming up to him to show off a scar of their own and tell their story, most of them laughing over little events, but some nearly in tears because he’d helped them feel better about the scars they’d gotten in terrible situations. He knew for certain he’d miss that the most, learning that he’d made someone feel better about themselves after struggling with it for so long himself.

“EDDIE!” Gareth shouted, banging on Eddie’s door. Eddie groaned, rolling over. “EDDIE, YOU GOTTA HEAR THIS!” The door burst open and Gareth dragged Eddie from the warmth and safety of his bed to the TV.

“...the band, which was seemingly an overnight success earlier this year, has just completed its first tour in America. Fans and critics of the band have been calling the tour ‘incendiary’. It seems as though there’s really nowhere for Corroded Coffin to go but up!”

Eddie gawked at the news reporter. “They’re talking about us?!”

“Shhh, keep listening, dude!”

“We traveled to Hawkins, Indiana, where the band is from, to talk to some friends of lead singer and guitarist, Eddie Munson, whose name had made the news years ago in a less savory light. But he has put that time behind him, according to longtime friend Max Mayfield. We spoke with her and two others, Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson, about Munson and the band.”

The three appeared on screen, Max standing in front of and between Steve and Dustin. 

“What can you tell us about Eddie Munson’s history with being in the news, particularly in 1986?”

“Eddie got me into rock and metal music,” Max said, who was narrowing her eyes at the reporter like she was planning his murder. “I thought he was crazy and that he always played it too loud when he lived across from me, but after everything we went through, I gave it a listen and I realized it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was. Eddie’s music is kind of like him—entirely misunderstood by people who don’t understand it. Or him. So if you could stop bringing up the false accusations from years ago, that would be—”

Her words were cut off by the news station switching to the conversation with Steve. Eddie felt tears building in his eyes already, because there was Max, standing up for him. And, oh, God, Steve was going to be sappy as hell, wasn’t he?

“We’re really proud of him back home. I mean, he worked so hard to get to where he is, and he’s done so well. The whole band— I remember when they were playing gigs in small restaurants in town with small crowds who couldn’t stand metal. But they’ve found people who like what they do and love their music. We’re really, really happy Eddie got his dream. Just, um, we do miss him a little bit.”

“A little bit?” Dustin echoed audibly, staring at Steve like he was crazy. The reporter laughed. 

“And what about you, Dustin? What’s Eddie to you?”

“Oh, God,” Eddie whispered, wiping frantically at his eyes.

“He…he’s like my dad.”

Eddie was about to start bawling.

“When I got to high school, he showed me the ropes, invited me to be myself around him. And Eddie’s always been like that, you know? Helping the people that need help. He’s just a big softy.”

“You guys miss him a lot, don’t you?” asked the reporter.

“Yeah, we do,” Max said. 

“Well, we don’t know if the band will see this, but…is there anything you want to say?”

“YOU’RE DOING GREAT!” Dustin yelled, beaming, over the din of Steve shouting his good lucks and we miss yous and Max’s calls of come back soon! “THE PARTY SAYS HI!”

Eddie sat back against the couch, rubbing at his eyes. He sniffled. “Where’s the damn phone?”

“Why?” asked Jeff.

“I gotta call Dustin and yell at him for making me cry.”

☞ ❊ ☜

Stranger Things // Eddie Munson

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