#does he know how much of what to put into this bomb so it blows up at the right time with the right intensity?

[bitchface24-7]

Hiii! How are you? I hope you had a wonderful day. Now, I'm here with an idea, I was thinking what if Jayce (and maybe Viktor, but I don't know how to make it work) traveled to another reality, like Ekko, but in this reality nothing of what happened happened. I mean, yeah, the explosion happens and blah blah blah, but in this world reader doesn't die (I love angst I'm sorry) and that helps Viktor not turn into the herald and try to kill everyone. I don't know, just a thought, you can use it to inspire yourself or not, that's perfectly fine. If you do write it thank you, and if you do not thank you anyways. Love your blog, keep on like that 😘

THE ONE’S THAT GOT AWAY - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: Jayce isn’t sure how he got here. Did the older Viktor he met who was a mage cast the spell wrong, was it when he and Viktor accepted fate in the cosmos, or was it his gift from the gods he no longer believes in, bringing him back to the two most important people in his life. One of them he died with. The other died much earlier.

warnings: MCD undeath (you're all alive now, hurrah! But the death with be mentioned), Jayce thinking he’s gone mad, crying, comfort, a world where EVERYONE IS ALIVE, poor Jayce; we’re so mean to him. Plot twist… Grammarly is my beta.

genre: m/f or m/m (with a realization of m/m/f or m/m/m)

p.s. Y'all just like putting my boy through the ringer!! Hopefully, he gets his peace here.

Jayce is scared. He's only in his early thirties and he's going to die. Everything is destroyed, their lab, their dreams, their future. All blowing in the wind like ashes, and the ground is stained with blood.

This was never supposed to happen. Hextech was meant to improve lives not become… what it became. You, Jayce, and Viktor were supposed to live long, happy lives. Maybe move out of the city, find a small town and live in a cozy cottage. Or even find a nice house in Piltover where you're in prime real estate. The markets and transit not too far from us.

But all of that is dead now. You died from a dormant virus in your body, it was waiting to strike when you were most happy. Your family has had it in their bloodline for years; and you didn't tell anyone.

You died in your sleep, painlessly, peacefully. Neither Jayce or Viktor knew until they went to your apartment to check on you, it wasn't like you to not come into the lab, not unless you told them before hand.

It was almost like you were sleeping. Your face was at ease, your body stiff. Jayce could lie to himself and say you were in a deep sleep, but he knew the truth. You were dead. Your chest wasn't moving, you were cold to the touch, and there was no pulse.

Viktor stood there horrified, before trying his best to find some sign of life. The more he looked, the more desperate he became. Jayce was frozen. He had finally asked you out on a date, it happened just a few days ago. You shared a kiss. Now you're dead.

Jayce silently walks to the home-phone attached to your wall and calls an ambulance, explains the situation in the most monotone voice he's ever produced, and quietly hangs the phone up; not even hearing what the phone opperator told him.

But he does hear Viktor crying, his hand over his mouth muffling sobs. Jayce walks over to him on autopilot and hugs him as tightly as he can and Viktor collapses into his arms.

They don't move until the paramedics come.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

After that, everything went downhill. Sky went missing, Hextech was made into weaponry, he and Viktor’s relationship became strained, the council room explodes due to a bomb, Viktor dies, Jayce breaks his promise to destroy the hexcore, he uses it to revive Viktor, turns out Sky died due to the hexcore.

Viktor leaves.

And Jayce is all alone.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Viktor's become a herald of some kind; a messiah. Healing the ill and injured in the Under— Zaun. He talks to Jayce through Salo, mentions all his accomplishments, and wishes he had this power back then to save you.

Jayce winces.

He kills Salo and goes to the commune, he kills Viktor.

Then the Machine Herald is born.

Viktor tries to get Jayce to be his partner again, desperately missing him, and you. It doesn't work.

They fight, they reunite, they die together in a massive glow of white.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Jayce jolts up from his bed, frantically patting his face and his body. What the hell is going on?

He's alive? How is he alive?! He died with Viktor in the cosmos, he shouldn't be here right now! He's panicking until a familiar hum interrupts his thoughts.

“Hi, sweetheart! I know those meetings with the council are exhausting so I brought your coffee to yo— what happened?!” You gasp, and Jayce bursts into tears. You place the mug of coffee onto the dresser and rush over to Jayce to hug him.

You're here too, you're alive. Your hair is the same, your smile is still blindingly bright, and your signature scent washes over Jayce as he sobs even harder; barely breathing.

“Oh Jayce whats wrong? Was it a nightmare? You don't have to tell me, I'm right here. I'll always be here.”

Jayce’s cries become much louder at that and you start to panic. You've never seen Jayce cry like this— ever. This is gut-wrenching to see, and you're gonna need another set of hands to help you.

“Viktor! A little assistance please!”

Jayce's cries stop momentarily but pick up when the other man enters the bedroom. He's here too. He's alive too. And he looks so good, so healthy. He still has prominent cheek bones, and he still has dark circles under his eyes; but he looks like when Jayce first met him, if not even healthier. His posture is much better, his leg brace is gone, but he's still using his cane. His hair is longer too, with the blonde highlights he briefly saw before his chest was caved in due to his hammer.

A look of confusion sits on the mans face before a brief look of understanding flashes by. So quickly that if you blinked, you would've missed it.

“Oh my loves, what’s happened?” Viktor quietly asks as he goes to Jayce's other side, completing the goup hug. Jayce has never felt more safe as he has between you two.

“I don't know,” you state, a worried furrow of your brow gives away how scared you are, “I just came into the room and he broke down. Maybe it was a nightmare?”

Viktor nods before looking imploringly at Jayce, “Maybe it could be he’s been bottling everything up and finally reached his breaking point?”

Jayce squirms under the truthful accusation, and looks anywhere but to the two of you, “Jayce! You're allowed to come to us when you need it! I thought we agreed, no more suffering in silence.”

A light shrug is what you get for your reprimand, “Its a hard habit to break.”

You coo and run you hand through his dark hair, his beard tickles your nose when you kiss his cheek, “I know sweetheart, but we’re here for you. How about this,” you offer, “I make your favourite breakfast, Viktor stays here with you and then we all eat together. Sound good?”

Jayce wants to say no. He just got you back, and he can't handle losing you again, but at Viktors look— one he's well acquainted with when he wants to talk in private. He gives in and agrees to your bargain.

You give both of them a kiss on the forehead and leave the bedroom. Keeping the door open so you can hear them if they need anything from you.

Jayce sniffles and looks at Viktor, Viktor looks back at him in understanding. “You weren't expecting this, huh? Neither was I. Luckily for me I had my panic attack last night. I was able to find journals to read to realize where I was.”

“You’re my Viktor?”

“I’m your Viktor.”

Jayce sighs, “Where the hell are we, Viktor? They're alive. We’re in a room I’ve never seen before. You're the healthiest I've ever seen you, and your hair is different.”

“What did you think about before dying?”

A long silence is held before Jayce demurely responds, “A world where the three of us were happy. In the perfect house with our perfect lives. Nothing major has gone wrong, nobodies died, there was no war, Hextech succeeded. You know… the usual.”

Viktor just looks at the man and hugs him tightly, brushing his nose into the crook of his neck, “I thought along the same line. Now we’re here; I guess this is our happy ending? For all the pain and suffering we went through.”

Jayce sighs, he feels a headache forming, “Isn’t this wrong? We’re not… we’re not their Jayce and Viktor. We could be missing years of memories that we’ll never get to know about.”

Viktor chuckles, “We’re scientists Jayce. We write everything down, besides, I got them to tell us the story of how we all got together.”

“We… all… what? Write down— what are you saying?”

Viktor looks coyly at Jayce, “We wrote everything down, like a journal. And for all of us— you two started dating, but really nothing changed. And the things you two did for one another; you did for me too. You came to the hilarious realization that, you love me too.”

Jayce quirked an eyebrow, a little offended, “Hilarious?”

“You burst into the lab startling the two of us and yelled, “ARE WE ALL DATING?!” In a panicked, frenzied tone. They just looked at you and said, “I thought we were all on the same page, guess not.” And you fainted. I almost pissed myself in laughter.”

Jayce sputters, his face going red. He’s not that oblivious, is he? He thinks back on his interactions with you, with Viktor, and with the two of you together; and comes to a startling conclusion.

“Oh… oh no. I’m an idiot. How come I never realized?!”

Viktor pats his cheek in solidarity, “You’re a very intelligent man, Jayce Talis. But that doesn’t mean you’re smart in other areas of life.”

“Oh geez. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

The two men hear your voice from the kitchen, “C’mon you two, breakfast is ready! We still need to get our formal wear from the tailor for the Distinguished Innovators Competition later tonight. We’re the judges this time, we can’t be late and I want to see what Powder and Ekko invented!

Jayce is gobsmacked and Viktor chuckles at him, “Turns out perfecting Hextech makes us quite famous in the science world. We’re highly sought after guest speakers at the academy, explaining our success in transportation, ventilation, plant-life, and medicine. Our lovely partner is a professor at the academy for all students mandatory English class. Powder and Ekko are their favourite student’s; but they’ll never admit it.”

Jayce feels like crying again, this time in happiness, “This is really real. This is our life now?”

“It’s really real. Now c’mon, I’d rather not get hit with a spatula because I came late to eat.” Viktor gets up, gets his cane and leaves the room. Jayce sits there stunned for a few seconds before following him, getting his mug of coffee of the dresser.

When he sees you standing there, all proud of the food you made for them, Jayce’s heart melts.

He deserves this.

You all deserve this.

And with that, he eats the most delicious breakfast he’s ever had, with two people he adores.

AHHHH!!! This idea was so good! I hope I balanced out the angst and the fluff well. This is so *mwah* love ya ❤️

[prettynice8]

Kinkmas Day 5: Rimming

Choi Soobin x male reader

This guy

Stuff: Rimming DUH, some balls licking, you and Soobin are friends.

Word Count: 969

Notes: Happy birthday Soobin, please feel better soon

Soobin is like your best friend. You two get along incredibly well together and whenever you're around him it's always a good time, this hangout is just 'extra' special.

Right now, you both are just lying on your bed chilling. Having casual conversation while he's cuddled up to you all snuggled in, his head resting on your chest while you absentmindedly run your hand through his hair as you watch the TV. Friends stuff, dude boy shit.

"I'm kind of bored." He expressed into your chest, making his deep voice come out as groggy.

"Oh? What else would you rather do? Wait, don't answer that, you'll probably say something like blow me or rim me." You said jokingly, you guys did make an awful lot of sex jokes to each other. For two openly gay men who aren't actually dating to do this is... a little odd.

"Rimming you say..." He responds, jokingly putting his finger under his chin, as if he's actually considering it. Which he's not... right?

"Don't get any ideas Soo, I know my pussy is the bomb, but it'd ruin our friendship." You scolded him.

He takes his head off your chest and stands straight up, looking you dead in the eye.

"Come on Y/n... we're both attractive, both gay, both sexually active, and you have an ass that I've been wanting to dive into since the day I met you." He told you, his tone completely sincere, but he can't actually be considering this, can he? This bitch.

"Well yeah... but-" Before you can finish, Soobin cuts you off with a kiss, one that though unexpected, you instantly melt into and kiss him back.

You put your hand in the back of his head to pull him closer, deepening the kiss. Soobin rests his tongue directly on your lip, begging for entrance, which of course you offer. Man... you're kind of easy.

You moan into his mouth as his tongue meets yours, sliding and clashing with yours until he comes out victorious. The kiss is incredibly overwhelming, and it leaves you to pull back to catch your breath, thoughts, and sanity.

"No, don't pull away..." He said all whiny, giving you a pouty face with his bottom lip quivering, but his smile returns once he remembers the subject you two were discussing before the kiss.

"You can't just kiss me like that! I mean it was really good but still!" You loudly told him, your face in a deep blush and completely flushed from his kiss.

"Yeah yeah yeah, Can I rim you now?" He asked casually, totally ignoring your little rant at him.

You just sigh, realizing how much him, and you, both want this. So, you simply respond with a defeated but also excited, "Fine..."

Soobin goes right to work, manhandling you into place on your hands and knees and pulling your pants and underwear down to reveal your puckered hole to him.

The speed in which he does this is enough to give you whiplash, but you go along with it. Afterall, having a man with lips as good as his to eat your ass isn't exactly undesirable.

Once your pants are off and your hole is winking up at him, he dives right into it, taking a long lick along your ass, doing this multiple times until your crack is completely wet with his saliva.

"Fuck, it's already delicious." He said breathlessly.

Once Soobin has done that, takes a few more long licks with his tongue but this time, he gets your balls in there. Licking all the way from your balls to the top of your crack, giving them a little suck from here to there.

He assumes you're ready enough, so he goes right in, diving his tongue into your anus.

You let out a shrieked moan, which he responds with a little chuckle while his tongue is buried in your asshole, sending the most delightful shiver of pleasure to run up your spine.

He licks the hole, inserting his tongue in and out with every stroke of his tongue. He enjoys pleasuring you but it's also clear that he just really loves eating your ass. The way his tongue almost adoringly inserts itself inside you is absolutely orgasm worthy.

"You're so fucking delicious Y/n, new favorite meal." He let out into your ass, the vibrations sending more delightful shivers.

He inserts his hole tongue inside you, pushing the wet muscle in and out of your asshole, making your moan in what can only be described as, like a fucking homo.

Thank god you've rushed because this bitch is getting IN there. Soobin is fucking you with his tongue in the best way. He clearly knows and enjoys what he's doing, which you can tell from the way he moans into your asshole.

He pushes his tongue in and out faster, making your moans louder and your cock leak even more onto the bed. His hands tightly grip your ass cheeks, pulling your asshole even closer to his face, allowing his tongue to reach unfound heights, also allowing your moans to reach unfound decibels.

"Fuck Soo! I'm so close!" You moan out loudly. Soobin simply responds by doubling his efforts, somehow pushing his tongue in even deeper, even lightly touching your prostate.

That's more than enough to make you ejaculate all over the bed, shooting your cum and near covering the sheets. Soobin tongue fucks you through it until you're finally spent.

You collapse on the bed, none of your body being able to work after such a heart stopping orgasm. Soobin laughs lightly as he wraps his arms around you, cuddling you from behind.

"You eat ass like a pro." You started breathlessly.

"It's hard not to when an ass tastes as good as yours."

THE END

[corpsekiller]

consumption of a heart unloved — dabi

PAIRING. dabi/touya todoroki x genderneutral!reader (sorta healer!reader)

WARNINGS. hurt/comfort, descriptions of scars and burns, slight gore, but i promise it's still sweet at the end

SYNOPSIS. dabi's body deteriorates after another mission, slowly meeting its inevitable end. you're able to offer him a fleeting sense of relief, an escape from the pain, even if it's just for a short while.

AUTHOR'S NOTE. so, this is one of the two fics i wanted to finish before i go on a two weeks break to focus on my upcoming exams! i've never written healer!reader before, but it just seemed to fit the plot of this fic... and with that, i'll officially log off for the next 14 days (besides reblogs and the other fic), so wish me luck on my exams🖤✨️

LENGTH. 2.072 words

MASTERLIST

It's getting worse.

He can feel it beneath his skin, breathing, pulsing, feasting on his churned flesh and brittle bones like a fuckin' parasite, consuming every inch of his sickly being with a lethal appetite.

The burns have started to spread across his torso and the staples at the seams of his discolored scars have burst open, barely able to piece his frail body together any longer as the fresh wounds tear him open from the inside out, crawling over what remains of his untouched skin with blistered heat that pulls a scream out of his throat — raw and utterly broken — like a dying animal writhing in the dirt.

It echoes through the abandoned building and fades into ever-lasting nothingness, a desperate cry that remains unanswered as he sinks further into the cushions of the old couch he found in the new hide-out of the League, hoping the cold leather might soothe the unbearable ache that keeps tormenting him.

It's a futile attempt that reminds him how pathetic he's become — unable to control his quirk and forced to suffer with the shame of it.

Dabi is convinced ripping his failing organs out of his own abdomen would feel more pleasant than this. It would be easier to bear, removing parts of this pathetic body that is causing him so much pain, dismantling himself into small pieces like a puppet — without a heart that feels and a brain that thinks — and putting them back together until everything fuckin' works how it's supposed to do.

Until his body obeys.

He's too delirious to remember when the pain started, doesn't recall what he was doing before it began to unwind in the pit of his stomach earlier that day, but he's still capable of noticing how his skin begins to feel like it has grown too tight for his bones — a prison of flesh he can never escape.

And it's not like he wasn't expecting this day to come. On the contrary, he was always aware of the ticking time bomb buried behind his ribs, the can of gasoline pulsing through his veins, waiting for the light of a burning match to blow everything up and engulf the entire world in a hailstorm of violent destruction.

That's how it was always supposed to end.

Dabi knows his fire will seal his inevitable demise in a blaze of cerulean blue, swallowing him whole and wiping him off the surface of this godforsaken earth. Still, nothing could have prepared him for the torture he has to endure until that day arrives.

His fingers twitch, blackened at the tips and trembling unsteadily, reaching towards the ceiling as if he'll find something to hold on to or perhaps someone who'd reach back and grasp his hand to pull him out of the delirium that fogs his usually so clever wit - he finds nothing but a shattered lightbulb hanging above his head, the lampshade covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs, a single spider dangling from it in the corner.

He faintly wonders, if it feels just as lonely as he does.

The pain caused by his movement twists through him like barbed wire, slicing into every muscle and every nerve until his mind becomes a blur of feverish thoughts, jumbled together until he can barely form a word.

Oh, he's awfully aware he's burning out — a collapsing star on the verge of a supernova. He expected his life to end this way, should have made peace with the fact that he'd never get a happy ending, but—

The sound of footsteps pulls him back from the brink of his madness, light and deliberate, like whoever is approaching is trying not to disturb him as if he's a mere child slumbering innocently in his crib. The door creaks open, rusty hinges protesting as a figure silently slips into the darkened room.

Dabi doesn't have to look up to know it's you — he'd recognize your presence anywhere.

He always does.

"Hey," you whisper softly, your voice cutting through the haze of his pain, soft and steady, like the soothing caress of calm waves washing over his frayed nerves. Carefully stepping into his line of sight, your features deepen with a certain kind of concern — through his blurred vision he can still make out the fine line between your cinched brows, your lips curved into a small frown as you brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Though there's no pity in your eyes.

There's never pity.

It's the only reason he lets you stay.

Immediately, he grits his teeth and tries to sit up straighter, digging his fingers into the cushion for some kind of support, but the effort causes his skin to scream in protest. Before he can even realize what's happening, you're already rushing to his side and crouching beside him on the dirt-stained floor, your hand hovering near his face like you want to touch him but aren't sure if he can take it.

"You look like shit," you mumble as he catches his breath, a weak attempt at humor that coaxes a ragged chuckle from his coarse throat despite the searing heat pulsing through his entire being.

"Feel worse," he rasps, his voice barely above a whisper. The corners of his chapped lips twitch into a half-hearted smirk, a ghost of the maniacal grin he wore earlier when he watched his flames consume another one of the inglorious heroes he always despised so much.

You don't laugh.

Instead, you reach out and tentatively brush the tips of your fingers against his unscarred skin, right above the silver staples that glisten faintly in the dim light creeping through the wooden planks nailed across every window of the room.

It's the barest touch, but it sends a wave of something strangely comforting through him — something that seems to extinguish the fire for a split second and settles deep in his chest, cradling his stuttering heart like a fragile butterfly with broken wings.

You're using your quirk, he notices far too late, the realization crashing down like a sledgehammer to his skull, leaving his thoughts shattered and bleeding. His body stiffens beneath your careful touch, a primal instinct to recoil sparking somewhere deep in his aching limbs, though even as his pain screams for him to move, he stays frozen in place.

He's certain now because he can feel it — the subtle, almost imperceptible shift as your energy flows into him, soothing the jagged edges of his agony. It's not enough to heal him completely - nothing could undo the damage he's done to himself - but it dulls the worst of it, like a cool cloth pressed to his fevered brow.

You’re taking it from him. The pain that is meant for him to feel, the agony that is his to own (or perhaps it owns him).

Then Dabi sees it.

The faint crease of your brow, the way your jaw ticks and clenches to stifle a sharp inhale of breath as your fingers tremble against his mangled skin, ever so slightly, before you finally press the palm of your hand over his sweat-slicked forehead in a motion so gentle that it almost reminds him of a mother tending to her sick child.

"Shit," he croaks, his words nothing but a cracked brittle thing climbing out of his mouth as he tries to jerk back. "Stop, you're–"

"Don't move," you interrupt, quiet but certain. Your voice breaks just enough to betray the strain you're under, though your hand stays firm on his face, even as your breaths start to come out quicker than usual, shallow and uneven like your lungs have unlearned how to function properly.

He supposes that's what his pain does to someone who isn't used to suffering the kind of torment he feels every day.

"You’re feeling it," he growls, though the argument dies somewhere in the back of his throat when his eyes look onto yours and find a glimpse of what is going on in your head — determination, stubborn and unyielding, even as the pain he’s spent years burying himself in bleeds into you.

"I know," you murmur shakily and tight with effort. "Just let me... let me help."

His jaw clenches, and for a moment, all he can do is stare at you. Dabi watches the thin sheen of sweat gather on your temple, the way your muscles twitch and your shoulders cave in like they're trying to hold back a scream, and he hates it.

More than that, he hates the way you’re looking at him. Not with pity, but with something far worse: care.

Fuck, he wants to tell you to stop — he needs to yell at you, push you away, do anything to make you let go, yet he can't, not when your touch feels like the only thing anchoring him to reality, the only thing keeping him from slipping into the abyss that’s been pulling at him for years.

"You can’t fix me," Dabi whispers after a moment, his voice trembling as his hands twitch uselessly at his sides. A certain kind of guilt cuts through his chest, sharper than any flame ever could and it's strange because he can't remember the last time he ever felt remorse for anything he's ever done, for anyone he's ever hurt. "You can’t—"

"I know," you cut him off again, your tone firmer this time. "But I’m not leaving you like this."

Your words slam into him harder than the pain ever could. Reeling for another argument, he swallows thickly around the stone that has settled in his throat, heavy and suffocating, as he feels the edges of something unfamiliar awaken in the depths of his mind- it isn't anger nor is it hatred.

No, it's smaller, softer, fragile like a flickering candle trying to survive amid a raging storm.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he mutters, his voice cracking with defeat and his eyes dropping to where your other hand has moved to rest against his collarbone. "You're gonna kill yourself."

"Not today," you reply, your lips twitching into that faint, stubborn smile he's grown to like so much. "And neither are you."

He hates how much he wants to believe you, how much he wants to let himself lean into you, let you carry some of his burdens even if it burns you, but as he watches you endure it — every stab, every flicker of heat and pain his body throws your way — he realizes something he’s never let himself think before.

He doesn’t want to lose you.

Not now, not ever.

"C'mon, stop trying to fight me," you mutter, tenderly brushing some tousled strands of hair out of his forehead before you lean forward to press a kiss to his temple, letting your lips linger there for just a moment. "I'm not going to leave you, I promise... Touya."

The sound of his name falling from your tongue so sweetly feels like a soft ripple across still waters.

It seeps into the cracks of his fractured soul, cooling the blistering heat beneath his skin and quieting the flames that have consumed him for so long. His shoulders drop, the tightness in his chest easing as he finally exhales a shaky breath. It’s not a miracle, not a cure — but for the first time, it doesn’t hurt quite as much.

He doesn’t have the strength to answer, so instead, he leans ever so slightly into you, letting your presence hold him together where his broken body and soul cannot.

Finally, Dabi allows himself to lose this battle, letting his muscles relax for the first time in what feels like hours, days, maybe even weeks as your energy shifts around the room and the burning pain has simmered down to a dull tenderness. Cautiously, your hand leaves his forehead to find his and he lets it stay there, lets himself savor the warmth of your touch.

For the first time in longer than he can remember, the thought of surviving doesn’t feel like a punishment. It feels like a promise. Something worth fighting for and it terrifies him.

He doesn’t say it out loud — he can’t, not yet — but the thought burns brighter than his flames and he silently wonders if maybe, just maybe, he can hold on just a little longer.

For you.

Taglist: @justwolosers @jaerang @dabislittlemouse

(@redr0sewrites tagging you because you loved my other fic so much, i thought you might like this one too <3)

[hoshigray]

hiiii!! I loveee your posts!! can you write something about Tojo or Geto being extremely jealous to the point y/n wants to break up but they don’t allow it? I don’t know I can picture it in my head but I can’t write anything good like you 😭

....why not do both? (¬‿¬) ty for the love, sweetie ♡ hope ya like this one! tagging @neptunes1nterweb bc they asked to be, lol, ily sapp!! ☆

cw: Geto + Toji x fem/afab! reader - smutty, so minors, move. - fingering (f! receiving) - biting (ears + shoulders) - clitoral stimulation (fingers + toy) - imagery of taking pictures of your naked body - pet names (baby, princess, sweetheart) - overstimulation - use of a vibrator and rope to tie your hands (geto); oral/cunnilingus (f! receiving) - impact play; pussy slaps (3x) - toji being a tiny bit of a meanie + possessive - overstimulation - pet names (baby, mama, sweetie) - clitoral play (licking and pinching) - heavy depictions of being given head - mentions of spit/saliva (toji)

You love your boyfriend, you know you do. And you know he loves you just as (if not MORE) than you. There's never been a day where you'd doubt this love. His love...but this love does have its bad moments — like this one.

Your boyfriend tends to be quite possessive of you, to the point of jealousy. There have been times you'd try and excuse the behavior; he's just your partner making sure you're safe and that no one gets any funny business when it comes to you. If anything, it's his way of showing his seriousness about you, right? Well, that's what you've been trying to tell yourself all this time, even when bringing it to his attention, to which he'll brush off or reassure you it's for your own sake. But today? Oh, it was the last of it.

Your friends invited you to a party they were having, and you, being your good partner, invited your boyfriend to tag along. It was all of good intentions, no? After all, it's not like you planned on staying til things went crazy; just meet and chat with some old buddies, eat some bomb food, a drink or two at max, the usual. And things were going great doing just that; you stumbled upon a very old friend you hadn't seen in ages!! Excited to see his face again, you spent most of your time catching up with him on the living room couch and seeing how life's been on his end. The conversation was going swell, nostalgia getting the best of the two of you. So much so that your old friend got a little tipsy from his drink and got a little handsy — putting his arm around you when the two of you would laugh reminiscing old memories together.

However, your laugh ceased when his laughs turned to abrupt howls of pain. You'd then turn behind to see your boyfriend standing behind the couch, who ripped the poor guy's hand off your shoulder and is crushing his wrist with a deadly grip. Immediately, you'd stand to stop the commotion and excuse your friend for your man's actions (he surprisingly expressed forgiveness), and you two left that party. No words were exchanged in the car ride home, but you had your mind set at that late hour. There's no point in being with someone who's just going to be envious of anyone who has your attention — even old friends, for God's sake! This is it, for sure! Those were the words you went with as you stormed from the bathroom and into the bedroom where your boyfriend lies on the bed of your shared bedroom. With crossed arms and furrowed brows, you tell him these words with a confident breath:

"I think we should break up."

ʚ⁺˖↪ Suguru Geto

"Mmmph!! Ahhhnnn!! S-Suguru, stop!! Your hands, too fa—Ahhhh!!!"

"Hold still, baby." He coos to your ear before teasing it with a blow; shudders run down your spine from the breath play.

With your back to him and your hands tied with a rope, Geto uses this position to play with your vulnerable body. Your panties exposed for him to see, a wet patch blossoming more and more from the touches of his slender fingers as they roughly rub on your clothed, leaky cunt. The lacy material becoming drenched with your fluids, he has your body twitch on him, and he sneers at the pathetic display.

"Ohhh, fucking shit—hic..." Tears well up from shut eyes, the swift motions of his fingers increasing the pounding in your head. "Suguru, pleaseee, it's teww muuuch!!"

"Awww, is it?" He mocks your whines. "Serves you right, though. You scared me with what you said earlier. Breaking up with me after I was trying to make sure that guy didn't try anything funny with my princess?"

"Nnnnmm! I'm s-sorry, Suguru! But he was my friend, and you were bei—Iiiiieee!!!"

Your body jerks when Geto snakes his hand inside your panties, using a forefinger on your clitoris and rubbing harshly on the sensitive bud. You can just picture the cunning smirk with the chuckle you hear while he kisses your bare shoulder. "Well, your friend seemed to be a little too touchy for my liking. And you," Geto suddenly sinks his teeth into your shoulder, having your nude figure jump at the bite. He uses his free hand to keep a leg to the side, making sure your legs are wide for him. "You seemed too close with this friend, huh. You were practically making him blush the entire time."

Did I really? Was I being too open? You couldn't answer those questions; it hurts to think with your boyfriend's fingers inside your slit, fingertips grazing your spongey walls, turning your brain to mush. The squelching racket from your southern lips and his digits ring your ears to a lewd trance — it makes your face dial to an unbearable heat.

"Nnmaaa, Ahhhhh!! Suguruuu," a tear makes its way down your hot cheek. Geto hums into your ear, and you shiver as he nibbles on your lobe. "Pleaseee, forgive me...I should've known you were just there for—Mmmm! M-Me...I'm sorry, so please..."

It's best that you couldn't see Geto's eyes narrow at your apology, the bedroom light donning his dark orbs a purple hue. He snickers, "See? My Y/n is understanding. Such a sweetheart for me, huh." He lays sweet kisses down your neck. "You're forgiven. Not thinking about breaking up with me now, right?" You nod erratically, earning a hearty chuckle while he grabs for something on the side. "Good, but we're not done yet."

Your sweat runs cold when you hear a familiar buzz when Geto presses a button on a small remote. You turn to see a bullet vibrator, the mattress experiencing the whirr of its vibrations. And when he picks the toy up and brings it down to your inner thighs, your anxiousness scales to an all-time high.

But you're too late to voice concerns as the toy makes contact with your clitoris, the delicate bud unprepared for the touch of the cold surface and intense buzzing. Especially with him pressing down on your clit and bringing his fingers back into your vagina again, his digits scraping your tender walls, your orgasm hit you within seconds.

Your nude body bucks to the aftershocks of your climax, your cunt pulsing around Geto's fingers, and come coating his digits and sliding down to the sheets. The pitch of your wails descends with every exhale, your mind too fuzzy to think of anything else but sinking into your man's hold.

Geto rubs small circles on your clit with the vibrator; you gasp and try to squirm away, yet to no avail. "Did so good, princess. Kinda wanna take a picture for your friend. Show him how much of a great time you're having with me...I'm kidding, I'm kidding~, so don't cry. Okay, princess?"

ʚ⁺˖↪ Toji Fushiguro

"Hoohh!! Ohhhh!!! Tojiiiii!! W-Wait, I already came—Eeeyahhhh!!"

Toji's got you with your back to the bed, legs propped up by his hands, and your bare cunt not even centimeters away from his face. His mouth is situated on the folds of your chasm, tongue lapping around your slick walls, and nose brushing on the fragile button that is your clit. Your moans at a higher pitch than before as your man is feasting on you for another orgasm, his chin already painted of your come from a few minutes ago.

Your legs tremble from the pleasurable abuse on your sore nerves, yet Toji's hold prevents you from so much as writhing away from him. He lifts his chin from your sloppy cunt, licking traces of your come from the scar on his lip. "C'mon, mama. I know you can cum more than one time." He gives your inner lips a suck before swapping his mouth with his fore and middle finger, the two sliding into your vulva with ease. Your brows skewed down and mouth agape for moans to escape, Toji enjoys your disheveled display with a devilish grin. "Heh, look at you. Lookin' all pretty like this because of my fingers."

"Haaaahh, Tojiii, Ohh, Jesus..." You grip the sheets below as his digits swirl and pump to and fro into your cunt, difficult to breathe with the hot air surrounding you and heat spreading from your cheeks to your ears. "Pleaseeee, I'm too sensitive — hic — G-Give me a min—Ohhhooo!!"

"Aht aht aht, don't act soft on me now," he gives your slit a smack, the rough hit from his palm catching you off guard, almost choking on your breath. The stinging pain pushed tears to roll from hot cheeks into the pillowcase. "You already tried that with that lil' friend of yours. Lettin' that fucker get too close fr' my eyes, and then you walkin' up here actin' all high and mighty talkin' about a breakup. Where's that now, Y/n? Hmm?" He licks circles on your clit, having you howl his name in despair — music to his ears. "Did'ja let the kid make you forget who can make you crazy like this?"

You peer down — big mistake — to see his fierce emerald eyes honed in on yours. You chew on your lip at the helpless atmosphere you're drowning in. "Mmmph...Toji, please, I'm sorry. I—Ohhhh, fuck!!" Toji's fingers do a 'come hither' motion, skimming your walls with the tip of his digits. "I really am...You just made me really upset that time, but, Hmmmm...I love you, I love you lots..."

The smirk on his face gets broader. "Ya know I ain't mad at you, not with that cute face of y'rs." Toji kisses your inner thighs, lightly nibbling on the skin to make you yelp. "Just teachin' my baby a lesson." Another slap to your hole results in a sudden scream from your puffy lips. "Who does this belong to?"

"...you—Ahhhhhh!!!" A third smack.

"Louder."

"Yours!" Your voice sounds broken. "I'm yours, only yours..."

"Good," you flinch at the feeling of his palm on your slit again, but he soothes the pain away by rubbing gently. "Now you just sit still while I finish, 'kay, sweetie?"

He doesn't give you time to reply, stuffing his mouth on your cunt and sucking on your folds. The image of his raven hair buried down to your thighs and his gruff moans as he eats you out shed you into another level of embarrassment that you throw your head back to the pillow. The commotion between your legs and his mouth is the only thing you hear that suffocates your senses, along with the growing heat.

Tingles crawl up your spine. "Nnnmm, naaaaa, Toji, I'm so close, I'm gonna..."

Toji hears your pleas, a hand dragged to your clitoris, giving the swollen bud a few pinches while he resumes using his mouth to stimulate your heightened nerves for another release. And it comes in hard, choked sobs lashed out from your throat as your body is stimulated to experience your second climax of the night.

With his grip still on your legs, your body is forced to endure your crescendo, muscles tensing, abdomen tightening, and your essence being lavished by your boyfriend, his tongue moving to gather your come to drink and savor from your messy entrance.

And when things finally calm down with your body following a steady rhythm, he withdraws from you with a satisfied grunt. Licking the last remnants of you from his thirsty lips, he gazes down with a proud leer. "Always tastin' so fuckin' good fr' me, mama." He takes off his shirt, his eyes still honed in on you. "We're not done yet, though. Gonna spend all night makin' you go crazy fr' me."

[h4venpha]

i think i find comfort in vashwood because of their unwillingness to say outloud how they care and love for one another. like CANONLY, theres so, so much they dont say, yet their actions reflect everything.

i’m pretty sure i’ve spoke on this before but i like to think that they never say more than they need to because of the world they live in, the type of people they are, the type of upbringings theyve had. it all stems back to them not really feeling worthy of the love they are offered.

wolfwood who only thinks of himself as some fucked up modified killing machine and that he believes theres no chance someone as kind hearted as vash would see the good in him, or what little there is left of the good in him. he’s done nothing but kill, he could never redeem himself, and yet vash isn’t scared nor shuns him for it even with his pacifistic ideals.

vash who has seen the brutal truth of wolfwood’s being and still decides he loves him to the very end.

vash who doesnt believe he deserves any ounce of love or commitment because he only hurts those he gets close to. it’s happened before and itll happen again, like hes a walking time bomb and everything will blow up again and the people close to him will die no matter what he does. and wolfwood who canonly sticks beside him until the end! literally calls himself his guide.

vash who has never had true companionship in his 150 years of living, and wolfwood who follows him to the ends of gunsmoke.

just up until vol10, theyre still toeing the line of the relationship theyve created. but the exact moment vash shows up and chooses to prioritize wolfwood over going after knives (the fucking thing he’s been working towards since the big fall, over a hundred years ago) is the moment he steps past that line. its so extremely open and explicit, even wolfwood asks him ‘why are you here?”

while what he says here is true yes, it also sounds like “you cannot die, i’m here to ‘save’ you because i want to live.”

then to this when wolfwood knows and accepts he will die— the sheer HORROR on vash’s face when he realizes wolfwood wont allow him to save him.

few pages ahead, vash’s monologue starts and these old panels come up. “deep down, he had become very close to me.” basically implying that back then, during the ‘shoot’ moment, they weren’t really close. and when vash accused him: “you’re the coward here.”, “you give up all hope so easily”, it was almost surface level in a way? talking to him at surface level

but now, so many chapters later when wolfwood really does give up hope, vash, with all of his developed love through out the story realizes how differently he feels now. wolfwood made him put a fucking gun to his head (giving up hope), and vash who only scolded and accused him, vs vol10 where when wolfwood gives up hope, vash feels straight terror, that he’s really going to lose him. (also the inverted panel is just so gorgeous.)

the whole “isnt that right, wolfwood?” just proves my entire point that vash’s presence here in this fight steps over the line of vulnerability they had created. he knows how he feels, and he knows that wolfwood feels the same, even if hes speaking to him indirectly.

[riality-check]

TW: past verbal and emotional abuse

The Harrington house is a game of perfection.

Steve has known this fact for as long as he can remember. There is a right way, a narrow way, a rigid way, of doing things. Numbers dictate all: rebounds, points, and assists for basketball, new PRs in freestyle and backstroke for swim. The numbers themselves do not matter; all that does is that they grow and shrink appropriately.

Infinite growth is not sustainable; not for Steve's stats, not for Richard's stocks. Both of them strive for it anyway.

The house must be clean. The parties can't be busted. The people of Hawkins will only say good things about the Harrington family. Gloria strives for these things, day in and day out.

The Harrington house is also a game of Perfection.

Steve hated that game growing up. The one with the little yellow pieces and the blue board. He was never able to get all the pieces in the right spot before the board spit them all back out.

It made a ticking noise, like a time bomb. Steve doesn't know when he started associating that sound with his parents.

It fits. It fits almost too well. They're fine, at least for a little while. The ticking starts quiet, then grows louder and louder until everything blows up.

The thing is, in Perfection, that the board blows up even if you put all the pieces in the right spots in time. The thing is, in the Harrington house, that everything blows up even if Steve does everything right.

The ticking lasts for days sometimes, weeks others. It's impossible, random, and impossibly random.

The only consistent thing is the board blowing up. And when that happens, so does the shouting.

The Party thinks that Tommy and Carol taught Steve to be cruel. That they're the ones who taught him how to bare his fangs and spit venom. That once he left them, the rage left him.

He's okay with letting them think that. It's easier than explaining that Richard and Gloria are the ones who taught him how to snap and shout, how to tear holes in other people with a few well-spoken barbs.

When Steve thinks of his parents, he thinks of fighting. He thinks of his father calling him useless and his mother calling him an idiot. He thinks of his mother calling his father dirt and his father calling his mother a bitch.

There are never any apologies. "I'm sorry" is never said in the Harrington house, even when the board gets reset.

They say "I got you pizza for dinner." "I saw this at the store and thought of you." "Do you want to come with me to get gas?"

And with that, the ticking starts up again.

Horrible things are said when the board blows up. Steve says horrible things when the board blows up. He's called his father an asshole and his mother self-absorbed and apologized without any apology at all.

He cleaned the pool instead.

Steve doesn't want to the board to blow up in the middle of the Munson trailer. It's why he's keeping his mouth shut while Eddie yells at him.

"What the hell, Stevie?" Eddie shouts, arms flying. "I told you that you can’t do that!"

“You told me you don’t want me to,” Steve says, staying calm and measured.

Calm and measured. Not blowing up. Steve isn’t going to snap or shout or bitch. He isn’t.

“Fucking semantics!”

“They were saying-”

“I don’t care what they were saying!” Eddie roars. “I don’t give a shit what they say about me!”

It’s true. Wayne calls Eddie “Teflon,” says that nothing sticks to him, least of all anyone’s opinion. Steve knows that Eddie doesn’t care about what most people in Hawkins think about him.

But he cares very much about what the people who care about him think.

Steve can say a whole lot of things right now. He’s angry, physically biting his tongue to ground himself. He can say a whole lot of things to cut Eddie to the bone, to end the argument and then some.

But he won’t.

Love is knowing how to hurt someone and choosing not to. It’s using a knife to split an apple to share instead of to cut skin to ribbons.

Steve can’t trust himself not to slash Eddie open. He says awful things when everything goes to hell like this, snaps back hard when snapped at first, operates purely on instinct.

He doesn’t want to hurt Eddie, so he keeps his mouth shut.

“I care that you could have gotten hurt when you swung at those assholes,” Eddie continues. “I care that I wasn’t there with you when you defended yourself. I care that you won’t let me take a look at your hands and make sure they’re alright.”

Steve squeezes the knuckles of this right hand in his left. It stings, but he’s fine. Nothing broken. He knows from experience

“Stop it, you’re hurting yourself,” Eddie barks.

Steve lets go of his hands, lets them hang loosely at his sides.

“So, what the hell, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, still loud, still snappish.

A variety of terrible answers surges to the front of Steve’s mind. Eddie’s biggest insecurities, the things he’s only told Steve when he thought he was asleep. Ways to wipe the anger off his face and replace it with stuff easier to manage: shock, hurt, sadness. Things he would say if he didn’t particularly like Eddie, if he were still in high school, if he were still in his parents’ house.

Steve doesn’t say anything. He keeps the knife in its drawer. He closes his eyes tight and breathes in once, then again.

“Hey,” Eddie says, softer.

Steve opens his eyes to find him a step closer, hands up in surrender.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says.

Oh.

Well.

Steve doesn’t know what to do with that.

He’s said it before. Of course he has. He knows the words, knows that he needed to say them to Dustin and Robin and Max, and he has. He’s stepped too far with jokes and forgot about some things and missed some things they’ve said.

But he’s never yelled at them. They’ve never yelled at him.

This is not how this is supposed to go. Eddie isn’t supposed to apologize. He’s supposed to clean Steve up or make him dinner or invite him along to go grocery shopping.

And Steve was supposed to snap back.

“It’s okay,” he says because that’s what he’s supposed to say, yeah?

Eddie shakes his head. “It’s not. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“It was bound to happen.”

Eddie stares at him, big doe eyes shining, like he has five heads. It makes Steve want to put his bloody hands behind his back, make him shrink.

He swears he can hear ticking, but the board just reset. Didn’t it?

“What?” Eddie asks.

Steve shrugs. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I got scared, but that doesn’t mean I get to yell at you. That’s not okay.”

What does Eddie get to do, if not yell?

I deserve it, Steve thinks, but he’s smart enough to know that saying that out loud will just lead to another fight.

There’s been barely any time to put the pieces back.

Steve doesn’t get it. But, he figures he’s always been a little slow on the uptake, so he can watch. Observe. Figure it out later on his own. He’s pretty good at that.

“Okay,” Steve says.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, and he holds his hands out for Eddie to take.

He’s dragged along to the sink, where Eddie rinses the cuts out with cool water before bandaging them up with the remnants of a box of Band-Aids from the bathroom. When they’re dry and finished, he presses a kiss to each knuckle, feather light.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, looking at Steve very seriously.

“Me, too,” Steve says, voice a little hoarse. “I’m sorry.”

It feels good to say. It feels good to mean.

Standing there in the kitchen of a trailer in Forest Hills, looking at the mismatched furniture and half-full ashtrays of the living room, holding hands with his boyfriend formerly accused of murder and apologizing for the first time and meaning it, Steve feels like he can finally breathe.

The ticking has finally stopped, and silence sounds so sweet.

[sandraharissa]

So I never wondered before what happened between Vander and Silco cos I had faith in the writers (my bad) and cos realistically it would require several professional writers to figure this out. I can't come up with a whole scenario, smth that should have been probs a whole episode or many flashbacks to the first revolution to parallel and give context for the second revolution. but since they dropped the whole revolution plotline there was no point in that ig. Now I'm not coming up with a whole plot for s2 to make it connect to a whole plot for the Silco and Vander backstory. I'll just talk about general things when it comes to

How I would do the Vander and Silco backstory:

Silco and Vander meet as young adults, probs in the mines.

Silco is a wide-eyed idealist, he's small and weak making it hard for him to survive from day to day but it's not important to his character (no insecurities, his character is not about that). He cares about and crafts his idea of an independent nation of Zaun. We're meeting a way 'better' version of Silco but he still has all his traits like being a bit of a diva and pettiness and pride and such.

Vander is capable and the 'get shit done' guy. He feels the need to use his strength to protect others. He has a strong sense of justice and fairness. He has anger issues too tho.

Vander uses his strength to protect Silco and so Silco feels safe with him but Vander also has violent tendencies and anger issues. There should probs be some instances where the possibility of Vander being violent with Silco is hinted at.

A la Powder's bombs or Mylo's lock-picking skills no one puts much value on Silco's ideas, everybody immensely respects Vander and his brute strength tho. It's the commonly lived by in the Undercity 'survival of the fittest' vs Silco's silly 'Undercity, united as one'.

Vander loves the idea tho and is Silco's first and biggest fan lol.

They start doing their thing together. At some point they build the Lanes and the Last Drop together.

Silco as a co-leader gets to do his thing, planning the nation and writing in his notebook and such, he's more of a planning guy, not the best in the field. He gets to do his thing but ppl really look up to Vander, with a lot of them not understanding the concept that they should have a shared national identity etc. but they do understand resisting their oppressors and Vander can lead them by example. Ppl admire him cos he rescues ppl and does justice and can kill an enforcer with one punch. Silco also likes that about him. He's the one to take direct action and is more of the pushing force of the revolution. He's like 'bro Zaun sounds amazing and what's stopping us from rounding up our friends and taking out this patrol on the corner? right now?' at Silco. Silco's 'brothers and sisters' beliefs low-key inform the attitude of the rebels even if they still don't get Zaun. He's also the one making all the smart decisions like creating a black market but he's underappreciated for it cos ppl don't directly see the connection between stuff like his scheming/business talents, the Lanes and the living situation getting better. (you could say Vander and Silco were the violence and ideology that make up a revolutionary movement).

As the revolution continues Vander was insistent that they need to push more, that's his mentality cos he was always more capable than others. With Silco being more logical and pragmatic. The stress isn't getting so much to Silco but it is to Vander. What got to Vander was that if he's the one pushing and ppl die bcos of it then it's on his hands and he can't stand it. Especially that it's probs partially self-indulgent. He gets to blow off steam and has an outlet for his violent tendencies. He is not making the best decisions, they are somewhat self-serving and on some level he knows this. Pressure to succeed and get results fast and guilt is getting to him.

Then they're on a mission that's gotta have them both doing different things but somehow connected to the bridge.

Silco and his team, or even bystanders, get caught/get in trouble. Silco starts spouting poetics at enforcers and bcos he pissed them off they decide to arrest everyone (so that's probs a one way ticket) but ppl did get inspired which causes more scuffling, probs ppl die, the situation gets worse but it allows ppl to let Silco escape/hide/he gets knocked out. Vander finds him and they escape via river, they jump from the bridge or from the docks, going further and further away from the shore and the enforcers and they start talking about what happened.

For context Vander and Silco's attitudes are opposite to each other at any time, and they also switch from what they were originally to what they become post their character development moments (betrayal and bridge massacre), they're narrative foils after all. One is at the core selfish and violent and the other is altruistic and for the good of everybody bcos of their lofty ideals. So Vander in his violent era at the end of the day cares about himself and ppl around him and keeping them (like Silco in s1 with Jinx when push comes to shove).

Vander is angry that Silco 'prioritized some "Zaun" over their ppl', starts criticizing his ideology and his ineffectiveness but Silco saw his approach working and decides he should try by himself again, like he did before Vander, with the focus on the whole business enterprise and such, now that it turned out in the last few years that he's good at it. He points out Vander's overly violent tendencies. So they're pissed and stressed cos of the situation, pressure gets to Vander and he feels responsible for every loss that happened. He feels responsible for Silco. If he failed then Vander failed. Then it escalates when it becomes more personal, they start being petty and criticizing each other. Vander stands to lose his most important connection. He feels rejected. Maybe Vander physically prevents Silco from leaving. They start struggling, things escalate, instead of letting Silco go Vander lashes out. And then Vander punches him, gives him the black eye (plus maybe chips his front teeth) and then in the heat of the moment starts drowning him.

Afterwards Vander blames it all on Silco, paints him as worse than what happened. It's easier cos his emotions tell him Silco somehow wronged him (hence the 'you animal' reputation, cos ppl could view it, especially if that's how Vander presented it, as Silco doing that whole thing intentionally, sacrificing his ppl to get a thing done and escaping himself). Vander projects his blame and guilt onto Silco, after years of leading by himself he mellows out and realizes Silco was not at fault but it's years into the cope/lie. He can't do better by himself and his straightforward violent methods don't work well enough for him to be worth it anymore. The bridge massacre is the last straw. Meanwhile Silco learns to be violent on top of being driven by ideology (but also he's not trying to convince anyone anymore of his ideas cos it didn't work the last time, he doesn't preach to anyone in s1 but Jinx).

Add somewhere in there a comment from Vander to Silco about pretty eyes for zaundads and dramatic irony reasons.

[sanest-bsd-delegate]

General Headcanons with DOA Boys

Headcanon: General headcanons of stuff I think they will do Pairing: Fyodor x reader, Nikolai x reader and Sigma x reader Genre: Fluff, lowkey crack A/N: Thank you dc person for that one fyodor headcanon. →Masterlist

Nikolai

He probably likes to eat mud for fun and force everyone to eat it

You both secretly sneekout of the hideout and visit beaches at night, having deep conversation which would end up with him filling your shorts with sand

he likes to place insects and rats in your closet stating it is a harmless prank. Not even Sigma is excused from his pranks

Nikolai irrespective of being a prankster would gift you with ice-creams and bakery goods [to lactose intolerant ppl, he gives u popsicles]

that was until he decided to prank you once day and put hair in your food

Never fell into his 'get in hole' game. You got stuck in it for 40 days without food and water. No kidding.

The mysterious hole is filled with nothing but junk.😭😭 very questionable junk

You both love to prank others though.

"Let's plant the bomb under Sigma's bathtub" "Extra points make it filled with pink glitter"

Sigma was covered in pink glitter for thirteen days.

But! Personally Nikolai would be one of the best cuddlers in the manga/anime

The first time he wore normal clothes instead of his usual multi layered buisness clothing, you were in tears. How could someone pull such simple clothes so fashionably?

You like to braid his hair. Even if you suck at it, he would wear your braiding loud and proud.

"Ahh quiztime! Who braided my hair?" "Sir this is-" "Wrong answer," boom "it's my love YN who braided it, you are no fun"

And that's how the city's McDonald's got blowed up.

overall he is a good insane boyfriend, so 10/10 cause I love him 😋

Fyodor

This man

I swear he is fine asf but would probably learn all the instruments you like so he can play it to you when you are kidnapped by Dazai most prob.

he is a Lil more insane then Nikolai so he would probably boom North Korea cause he was bored. [NK people i am jk-]

"what did you have for breakfast" "I don't know" "wrong answer" And the next moment you know, South of Yokohama got blowed up

He is the most broken richest man you ever met.

he can't buy clothes for himself or even upgrade the doa office but will gift you a wholeass country as a Birthday return gift.

you force him to wear dresses and paint his nails, 😭 but my man is so down bad that he is sub in this relationship.

"Sir we have bombed the tunne-" "Good verywell" "🧍🕯️" 😭 nah cause they are hella scared when he wears makeup.

He would probably take you to fireworks only for you to realise he is bombing the area again.

"fyodor, we talked about this" "No" and he proceeds to boom everything

he isn't much of a hugger and probably tries to runaway when you try to even touch him, but mf would suffocate you in his sleep with his hug

He probably had tried giving those evil laughs, but the moment he did that, he choked on air.

Me and a person on my server were having a convo and they said "He probably bites his nails to much and they are really short"

he owns a pet rat but denys it

honestly, he is a 10 but he is a terrorist who likes to bomb everything up. But he is your boyfriend and he is hot.

Sigma

-Are you the man of the relationship or he is?

he is more of a 'please don't kill anyone sweetheart' rather then supporting your actions and being a 'lets commit arson dear YN'

Mf is rich asf. He would deny it ofcourse and then proceed to shower you with silk clothes, Gucci , prada comfy…..such a sugar daddy

😭😭hear me out, he is a ball full of sunshine and anxiety but he wouldnt hesitate to kill anyone who does wrong to you or his casino.

-"Sigma am I your first priority?" "Yes-?" "Is the casino your first priority?" "Yes-?" "Me or the casino?" "Yes"

He probably cries everytime you ignore him.

HE REMEMBERS EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU.

once Nikolai kidnapped you for fun and man did Nikolai end up being half bald.

Sigma wants you to stay away from fyodor, because the last thing he knows is that he want to give fyodor a bombing partner.

Atp he doesnt want you to interact any of the DOA members, because little did he know, you will grow more insane with them.

I like to imagine you knowing Dazai and mentioning it to Sigma on occasions, and oh boy Sigma wanted to kill the man when he first met not because you talked a lot about him, but he would probably be the reason why you pull questionable strunt

10/10 Mama Sigma

He also doesnt allow you to run away freely in his casino, for all he knows is that you will cheat and win all the games.

He is so restrictive

You both probably or possibly may have this convo:

"BUT FYODOR GIFTED HIS S/O A WHOLE ASS COUNTRY, WHY CANT I GET THAT PLUSHIE??" "You cant cheat everytime to get the plushies" "BUT-" "Fyodor is a terrorist, we are not like them" "LEAST HE GIFTED HIS S/O-"

Your arguments probably never make sense to others, but its for you and Sigma to know.

Also he gave up on scolding you every time you try to eat casino coins.

He is such a 'I am trying to keep my S/O mentally sane' boyfriend, even if he needs to go to therapy. 8/10 bf material

Guys get a Sigma. Sigmas never disappoint.

A/N: Btw the discord server if you wanna join is here.

[pumpkinsy0]

U got any curtis gang new yrs hcs??

unfortunately they wont leave my mind, so yes i do

•look im basing this off of me cause its sm fun to do, but when its nearing 12am, pony likes to put on a song that he RLLY liked that year, like its carrying him into the new year, its comforting!!! usually near that time u wont find him in the living room, but alone either outside or in his room

•soda gets suupperrr sentimental, hes the friend going around telling u how much u meant to him that year, he has NOOOO shame about it, hes a lover what can he say

•dallas doesnt attend their new years party, believe it or not hes not the HUGEST fan of parties he never stays for the full amount of one, if he does go to the house, he stays for 30 minutes before running away and the gang doesnt see him till the 3rd of january, nobody knows what he does or goes, but he always comes back so its whatever

•johnny and pony have a thing where they either fistbump at midnight or blow those party horns at each others face!! they would always bet on who would get a midnight kiss bonus money if they guessed who it would b w

•YES, steve and soda have been each others midnight kiss btw, u could take this as romantic or not bc it was never on the lips, only like forehead or something “as a joke”🙄

•i dont think steve is that much of a party animal, at least for a new years party, he has a habit of going outside, watching illegal fireworks that really should classify as bombs while thinking about his life and throwing party snaps on the ground, then going back inside to live it up so he doesnt get too sad blah blah blah repeat. he gives the rest of the party snaps to pony and johnny

•the curtis gang will leave up christmas decorations for MONTHS, they dont rlly buy new decorations. two bit however loves to take the mistletoe down to put it in a new place and annoy surprise everyone by screaming whos under it

•the gang wuestion dally on the times square ball drop a lot, hes went ONCE and will always rant about how stupid and annoying it is, he says its like top 3 worst new years ever bc of how cramped it was but the gang will notttt believe him, they think hes just being grumpy

•u can expect to hear allllll of darrys new years resolutions bc hes making some for himself AND the gang, u leave trash on the floor and he passive aggressively suggest a new years resolution for u to throw it out😭ill tell u what tho he follows through on his resolutions for the most part u gotta commend him

•when i think of johnny and new years i think of tyler the creator being upset that he was making a stupid ass sandwich into the new year

•alternatively when i think of two bit and new years i think of camilla cabeo??? i think it was???? and her tweets for new hears where shes like “i havent showered since last year” and she was doing it consecutively each new years

•mrs curtis made this tradition to take a new years picture each new years and the gang WILL keep that alive!!! they choose one person from the gang to keep the photo forevveerrr and everrrrr

•the gang also makes a time capsule!! this was something they didnwhen they were wayyy younger but some of the gang still make it, althought there is this one time capsule literally EVERYONE forgot where it was buried so its just somewhere chillin in the backyard</33

•do u guys think they would drive over to the curtis parents’ graves and hang w em for a bit, pouring alcohol and soda to commemorate em,,,i think so,,,,theyd do the same for dally and johnny

[devastatinglygreen]

Why do you think they're waiting for the Lady Whistledown reveal?

aside from drama? and i mean that seriously. i know everyone had headcanons and wants for years here but they're building tension. there was no real tension in part one outside of sexual and the stakes need to be higher for the penultimate episode.

the next bit is spoilers we know have been pretty much seen by too many people for ep 5 at least so wander under the cut at your own risk:

i think, and i know a lot of people aren't going to be thrilled about colin not knowing before some things happen, that they need to do two things: solidify their relationship a bit and basically send penelope into a spiral to take the stakes higher.

they have plot armor, they're not going to behead penelope right there in the queen's garden with the peacocks once she gets caught. the only thing truly up for grabs is polin. and not even that, not really, but it's the thing the audience is going to care about.

the spoilers have penelope trying to tell him but failing because she keeps getting interrupted. every time she fails, the clock ticks further. it's a pressure build. eloise is on her back. colin is just wandering along, deliriously happy and penelope knows she's carrying this bomb she's gonna blow up in his face.

she lost eloise to it. colin is the love of her life. i think we can all do that math. she's so stressed out by eloise's timeline she can barely breathe and then comes cressida.

you've got cressida taking credit for LW, colin's happiness sitting on her shoulders (tho i do think it's also so smart of them to have him defend penelope to portia before he finds out, it might give him some insight to how penelope is treated and feels when the right time comes), eloise is assuming things and giving her hell.

i mean, wouldn't you be a mess too? like, give the girl some grace her entire life is imploding right after getting what she's always wanted and never thought she'd get and losing the two most important people in the world to her only a few months before. would you want to blow that up again? yes, yes, i'm sure everyone who says "but she has to!" is very morally outraged and perfectly righteous in their own lives scoffs at the idea that penelope might struggle with a secret she doesn't know what to do with.

it's not like we've never seen how that eats her up before, right? oh. we totally have. nvm.

anyways. cressida. i kind of hope it's the turning point for peneloise because i think even eloise knows she's not a good person to have in a position of power like that. say what you want but penelope doesn't lie in LW.

add in they seem to be bringing in book scenes and i'm going to guess colin catches her after she takes off to print something saying cressida is a whole ass lie. fight ensues. angst! stakes are ridiculously high. the wedding is planned. the pedestals are knocked over and now colin will know everything. does he love her after that? can he? does he trust her ever again? (clearly yes or they're gonna need to change up that family tree thing they released lol).

this will give way to colin having to come to terms with penelope's legacy and how it affects his own estimation of himself and his writing. jealousy like the book. it's a colin issue and he knows it but he still has to deal with it.

colin very much thinks penelope is his purpose, right? the book says it. LN said it about show colin. he's gotta reconcile that LW and penelope are two halves of the same person. he can't put them both in boxes.

anyways what i mean is that the stakes need to be high and her blurting it out then having 2.5 episodes of them moping around about their LW fight isn't really the thing that gets your heart racing when you've got 8 episodes to tell the whole story.

(also as an aside, i think it's going to lead to us getting second "firsts" in a way. it's not going to be a first kiss or anything but i feel like the energy of it all will be different and i, personally, think that could be very fun)

[bluebellowl]

Ok, fnaf submas idea(maybe)

Now, i cant remember if you said something about a train chase scene between the twins and the player or not but if you didn’t then that is what i am proposing.

How i imagine it going is at first the player/gregory is taking the train to some new area that’s been unlocked with the twins having been a neutral party throughout most of the game until now or freddy mentioning them and helping gregory reach them to unlock fast travel(with little train stops here there that have been found across gameplay)

And upon the first encounter the twins become hacked and attack gregory as the train is going with you the player racing to get the conductor car with the twins following in suit behind you quickly (either rushing at you on their two feet or that really creepy bent-backward crawl on their hands and feet and their heads turned[360 turning capabilities?] in order to accommodate that position)

Once you get to the front car you then have control of the train and veer it onto an unfinished track, freddy contacts you and sets up some type of like bomb or something, you somehow escape the train before it crashes leaving the twins to scream metallically (and somehow fearfully) into the trash area. Fast travel is still accessible, you just don’t have the twins there to manually run the train, its on autopilot now until you get them back up.

Alternatively, if one them catch you, you either get fucking decked/punched to death (one punch only shown) or suffocated. Gruesome yes but i imagine afton getting real fuckin sick of the player at this point and commands animatronics to kill on sight no matter what.

And depending on who you find first they will either follow you around the trash dump(Ingo after you get him a battery) or head straight to the nearest train station to wait for you(Emmet).

Once they’ve been reunited you take em to the repair area, find a few leftover parts and fix em up as much as you can. Ingo’s voicebox still has that unnatural, glitchy, autotuned baritone and Emmet still twitches(he twitched and sputtered a lot before the repair, a result of his fall) here there due to faulty wiring/coding that would require an engineer and coder to fix fully, not a child. That and the parts were a little outdated.

Oh man I'm eating good today!! Thank you so much for that plot idea. I'm having a lot of fun juggling that around in my brain!

Some of that I already sorta used in previous fnaf AU pieces.

Like crashing the train into the trash dump and befriending the twins again after finding them down there.

or

Using the train as a means of fast travel to make navigation easier but with a catch.

But you mentioned that the twins are neutral at first, but the first time you actually encounter them they'll attack? Will they be a mystery at first then? Like you only ever see a portion of them from the back? Freddy would probably insist they'd be such nice fellows, like he does with music man. I wonder what would move him to place a bomb in order to blow them up. Maybe the train crashing off tracks and the fragile pizza plex floor might even be enough to doom them.

I do love the idea of them just straight up punching Gregory to death upon sight as their jumpscare. Just unrestrained violence. And you know those guys have the Newtons to crush an adult skull! Suffocation might be even creepier I think. Just their manic eyes staring you down, hands around your throat at your vision goes dark. As if they were simply putting you to sleep.

[ae-azile]

Kind of have a Chan/Big one-shot in my head that I am thinking about writing but have no time for. I'm going to bullet point it here to have on hand for later.

Big still takes the bullets for Porsche. When Kinn arrives, he initially thinks he is dead. Tawan still presses the button and kills himself. However, the bombs Tawan placed end up being duds and the effort was for nothing.

Once they realize the place isn't about to blow up, they go back inside to get Big's body. He turns out to be unconscious but alive. They rush him to the infirmary and he miraculously pulls through, but is going to be there for a while.

Despite the Drama™️ going on, Kinn, Porsche, and his fellow guards visit him. Kinn is very thankful and sorry, Porsche is thankful as well but feels like Big should value himself more highly and tells him as much, and the rest are trying to be present.

Even Tankhun visits him. He usually talks about how he should put demands on Korn to change up the decor of his room. But occasionally, he tearfully thanks Big for saving Porsche. There is also one time that he tells Big he deserves a better ending than the one he tried to give himself. That he may not have leading man energy, but he could totally be half of a secondary couple in a K-Drama if he just found the right person.

"And sometimes the secondary couple is more interesting anyway!"

But out of everyone, Chan visits the most frequently and has been putting the most work in when it comes to Big's care.

The thing is, Big notices two guards aren't around: Pete and Ken. The guards tell him Pete is visiting his grandmother, and they sound believable enough when they say that, even though it seems like strange timing. But they won't meet his eyes when he asks about Ken, and their stories never line up.

Chan eventually tells him. While the truth paints Ken as a traitor and there is no getting around that, Chan tries his best to empathize with Ken by telling Big that Ken was likely approached by Gun with an incentive to be a double agent. If he would have refused, it would have cost him his life a lot earlier on. He says it to let Big know it's okay to mourn Ken. Ken was still his roommate and his friend, regardless of what he did.

They become closer after that night, and Chan talks to Big in a way that is less gruff and more gentle. Big finds comfort in him, and has prior to this. Chan was the one who made sure Big took an extended break after his father died. He drove an hour each way to check on him at his mother's house back when that happened. So Big has felt comfortable coming to Chan in his moments of worry or doubt, and he has always viewed Chan with respect and affection while the other guards tended to be more intimidated by him. But something feels different now.

He doesn't know who to talk about it with though. Ken is dead, and he probably would have teased him and said he had a crush on their boss.

Does he?

Chan is at least ten years older than him. He probably shouldn't have a crush on him. He's also actively taking care of Big, and Big has a long recovery in front of him. He's setting himself up for unrequited love. Again.

Speaking of, Kinn is continuing to visit. He does so frequently, and Big can see that he's wracked with gullt. Big still feels his heart beat a little faster whenever he walks into a room, but that is starting to feel different too. Kinn almost feels like a friend now. That's probably inappropriate as well, but on a lesser level.

So he holds it in. He plans on doing so forever until he wakes up gasping from a nightmare. Chan had fallen asleep in the chair, but wakes up when Big does. Instead of telling him it's just a dream, he scoots closer to comfort him, strokes his hair, and holds his hand until he falls back asleep.

Big ends up telling Pol, of all people. It just slips out. Pol doesn't seem like the right person to tell, but not the wrong person either. He manages to strongly empathize with and defend Tankhun, while most of the guards tend to steer clear of him, so maybe he will understand this insanity.

Pol is actually nice to talk to. While he doesn't completely understand a potential crush on Chan because Chan is intimidating, he gets having a crush on someone a good bit older. He thinks he might be into a bartender friend of Porsche's, and she has several years on him.

The conversation doesn't give Big any answers, but it does make him feel a little better. He's able to be around Chan and not feel like freaking out.

That is, until Korn "dies" and the attack approaches. Chan has Big moved to a more secure location a day prior. Big wants to stay, Chan won't let him. Big only feels okay about leaving when Chan says he will command from the armory while Arm sends out remote attacks, that he won't be a frontline guard.

Chan lied.

Does he die? Does he miraculously live like Big manages to in this canon divergent fic or like Vegas does in canon? Depends on how much I want to torture Big, I suppose...

Jk, I want them as infirmary roomies falling in love, all while Pol wheels in to visit while he heals from his less serious injury. I also want Chan to be finished with Korn altogether after everything he pulled.

[mooncalf87]

Cherrisnake??? 🥺🥺🥺🥺💕💕💕💕💕 Tell me more

SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG my brain short circuited and I couldn't fathom this ask lol

EVEN MORE CHERRISNAKE HCS <3

Forgive me if some of these are repeats, I dont remember what I did on the first two lists LOLOL also I am gonna do a few with my Pentious fan kid Adelaide, but I'll indicate where that starts

Snuggle bug. Pentious craves physical touch and comfort CONSTANTLY, which Cherri enjoys giving.

If you put them in a room together and lock the door there is a good 80% chance they will find out how to make a bomb out of carpet fuzz and drywall

They are big on PDA, but they- and everyone really- dont really notice it. They love giving quick kisses to each other, Cherri often finds her seat all cuddled up in Pentious's lap. It is a normal thing at the hotel, no one thinks much of it.

Cherri isn't interested in getting redeemed, which is something that Pentious 100% respects. They make it work

Pentious tried to propose but dropped the ring like 5 times. Cherri even handed it back to him once (he didn't realize)

Adhd couple

Their ideal date night is getting drunk off their asses and blowing up the Vee district

Pen is far from being a virgin, but he fumbles around in bed like one. Cherri finds it HILARIOUS

Pentious goes to Husk for relationship advice, and so does Cherri. Husk gets ALLLLLL the drama.

Cherri likes sweet/sugary stuff but Pen doesn't- pen has made jokes like "I'll have to break up with you, it just won't work. we are enemies 😔"

Sense their eras are so far apart, they love to teach each other about their time

Pentious, due to growing up in thr 1800s, didn't get a great education. He is great with building and stuff, but he doesn't know how to write or read very well. Cherri teaches him, and writing is one of his favorite things now.

Pen fell first. That man was smitten from day one. It took cherri a good 4 decades to realize her feelings

Adelaide stuff starts here! (Little bit of info: they are pents kids who were angels and he reunited with them in heaven. Adelaide is 3. She has a brother named Arthur, but I won't be including hcs about him, because he is not my character! His creator is @/emositecc, go to their page of you wanna learn about him!)

Cherri loves Pents kids SO. MUCH. She loves being a mother figure to them

Cherri is closest with Adelaide but she loves them both so so much

Adelaide CAN talk, but she is preferably non-verbal! The only time Cherri has ever heard her talk was when she called her "mama" once (cherri cried)

They were both in Pent and Cherris wedding

I do hc requests!

[snapghoul]

I’d give you a part of my soul for Twins HC: Hurt and Whump Edition or similarities edition

Your offering is adequate, the terms are fair. You shall receive both whump and similarities.

Warning: foul language

Their similarities

✩ Both have a very self centered front they put on. Jake’s need to be the best came from the spotlight being taken away once in high school, a new kid stole his thunder and he hated how none of his friends really cared about him for almost two weeks. Tyler’s come from having the spotlight for a short time, he started rodeo as a freshmen and when he started getting good people started to like him. He was never the popular kid and he liked the attention. Despite this they surprisingly don’t compete with each other, they don’t try to one up and put their twin down.

✩ Deep down both are sweet southern boys. Tyler it takes less for him to show it, Jake is like a fortress, he’d rather naw his own foot off than show he cares.

✩ Both are extremely outspoken, neither have an issue voicing their opinions. Tyler is less aggressive about it and Jake will go to insulting the other to get his point across.

✩ They consume sweet ice tea like their life depends on it. If Jake isn’t having a beer at the Hard Deck he is downing tea like he’s been in the desert. Tyler doesn’t drink too much alcohol, having two at most, and like Jake he loves ice tea any chance he gets. Nothing beats their Dad’s tea, somehow the man knows just the right mixture.

✩ Both like physical touch:

✩ Jake is more guarded with touch until he feels comfortable. When he got more comfortable with the Daggers and his cocky front dropped he likes to hang close to his team, he rests an arm over Phoenix and Bob’s shoulders, grab Rooster by the shoulders and shake him when he’s playing piano. Lack of personal space and touch is a sign he feels safe to be himself.

✩ Tyler have a touch boundary, as long as it someone he knows, but mostly because personal space doesn’t exist with the wranglers. Tyler can stand right up next to Boone and neither of them will notice or care. He loves to give hugs and pats in the back, high fives. Tyler’s way of physical touch is a way to welcome others and he is respectful for people’s boundaries, if they don’t want to be touched then he won’t.

✩ Their love language is acts of service. “Jake, can you?” Done. “Tyler, I need-“ already has it.

Comfort

❥ Tyler is much better at comforting others, he knows what to say, how to get certain answers and helps people understand and process. Tyler knows his crew better than anyone and he knows exactly what to do when one of them needs some comfort. Boone likes chocolate peanut butter bars and fireworks, Lilly likes the quiet and star gazing, Dani likes to sit and talk, and Dex likes to listen to classical music.

❥ Tyler’s way of self comfort is to just sit in a field and let everything out, mama Seresin says the wind takes everything away and keeps all your secrets. But when he needs it from others he’ll seek out Dani or Kate to vent to until he feels better.

❥ Jake on the other hand is not so good at comfort. Jake is a freezer, someone starts crying and he panics. He tries to make horrible dad jokes which always suck but do work because they’re so bad. If it’s a Dagger he’ll offer a hug, he’s bad at verbally making people feel better but he does know touch can help.

❥ Jake’s self comfort is throwing playing darts and pretending the issue in the target he keeps nailing in the face. He doesn’t seem comfort from others often, he’d rather do it himself but just sitting quietly with someone is nice.

Hurt

☹ Jake hides his pain, emotionally and physically if he can get away with it. With mental and emotional damage he gets quiet and snappy, a time bomb that never blows up. He makes sure he gets his space, sometimes being rude about it. The daggers know when to leave him alone and no one takes his poisonous words to heart anymore. But when sometimes he crumbles and just needs someone to hold him together. He’ll call his mom or dad if it’s a serious problem like almost dying or a teammate almost dying. If is parents aren’t available, Coyote will always be there for his best friend.

☹ Physical pain, depending on the severity Jake is either an annoying over dramatic shit or ignores it until he can’t or he gets caught. Jake’s sick? No he’s not, he’s not gonna pass out (he is). Jake not holding the door open? Sorry he can’t, he jammed his hand in the door this morning (he’s fine).

☹ Tyler is more open with talking his emotions out, he’ll even call his mama if he didn’t feel comfortable telling the others. But he doesn’t bottle everything up, he never did even as a child. If he cries, he cries and he doesn’t care what others think.

☹ With physical pain he’s the exact same, though not to Jake’s annoying degree but he’ll make jokes about it. He also forgets he’s injured since most of his nerves are kinda shot in some areas from the rodeo he won’t even register he’s bleeding until someone says something.

[dastardly-imbecile]

Mechanical Butterfly (III)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

---

Viktor doesn't run from Singed. Silco sees the burgeoning inventor in the young girl he found, after Vander. Collaborations abound!

---

Wordcount: ~2100

Singed is back by the time the knock comes, which he’s thankful for. He allows Viktor to answer the door himself, absorbed in methodically sorting through the brains of an overgrown rat. 

Standing before it, in the alleyway, is the woman who’d come in Silco’s entourage the day before, and Jinx, the man himself nowhere to be found. Viktor can’t help but be glad for that—he doesn’t know how he’d possibly teach with that man peering over his shoulder at all moments. 

Then again, looking at the sharp expression on her face, she may not be much better. 

Jinx, however, is the picture-opposite to her—face bright, a smile already tugging at her lips, standing tall. A moment of hesitancy flashes over her expression, as she looks up at him, but it doesn’t quell the clear excitement thrumming through her. 

He steps back, murmuring a quiet, “come in.” 

She does so eagerly, and the woman slower, scanning around the lab, clearly looking for danger. 

“Viktor?” She asks him curtly. He nods, though surely she recognizes him from the day before. 

“And you?”

“Sevika.” The answer is sharp. Singed glances up at the name, some note of recognition in his gaze, though he soon turns back to the rodent’s cracked-open head. 

“My room,” he says to Jinx, nodding towards the open door. It’s a small place, cramped, nothing but the bed and the mass of the half-built forge in it. 

“Not so fast,” she growls, “let me check.”

She bustles off towards the room before he can tell her not to touch anything. For what’s essentially glorified babysitting duty, she seems rather serious about it all—then again, she works for Silco. There’s probably a lot of motivation to be good at her job. 

He follows, finds her poking through the space underneath his mattress. 

“I assure you,” he says, “it’s safe.” Not like he’s hiding a bomb in the room—what does she think he wants to do? Blow up a child, her, and himself?

She mutters something inarticulate, strides over to the far wall and leans against it. A vantage point to look at both the room and, in the lab beyond, Singed injecting the rat with a vial of glowing magenta. 

“You can sit,” he tells Jinx, indicating the bed. She does so, padding over to the spot with the attention of a child in a schoolroom, as if he’s some sort of actual instructor. 

On her lap, she holds a small brown bag. He nods at it. 

“What’s that?”

“Oh!” She opens it, and from inside, withdraws a handful of crude, clumsy tools—a screwdriver that’s hardly more than a rusted rod of metal taped to a block of wood, a small mallet with a chunk missing from the end. They look like something a beleaguered shopper trying to exert minimal effort would scrape up in the cheapest parts of the market, which he suspects is exactly what they are. “I brought my own tools. And Silco told me I should make something for you, so I thought-”

Here, from the bottom of the bag, she extracts something else, holds it gently pinched between two fingers and extends her hand for him to take it. He leans forwards, unsure of what it is at first glance—it is only when she drops it into his palm that he realizes. 

It’s a small butterfly. Deceptively delicately crafted—at first glance, it is nothing but a twist of wires, but as he examines it closer, he sees the shape of wings and even gossamer-thin legs. And, lining its back-

Gears. Experimentally, he prods at its wings, and they move, flapping up and down. Everything about it is so small, so carefully put together, that he could not imagine the patience it must have taken. 

“You made this?” He doesn’t bother hiding the admiration in his voice. Just the minutiae of the body and wings is enough, but to attach the mechanisms for it to move is beyond what he’d expected of her. 

She smiles wider, the last of the anxiety melting away. “Yes! Is it… do you like it?”

“I do,” he says softly. He glances at her fingers, the small hands of a child, thin and nimble, and has a sudden idea. “Come here,” he says, beckoning her forwards, towards the forge upon the ground. 

She obliges, slipping off the bed and approaching it—it’s almost as tall as her, and he’s gratified to see similar awe in her eyes. Singed’s appreciation for what he does is nothing more than the occasional comment on his talent, always said in a detached, observational sort of tone. It feels good to be recognized. 

“Inside,” he says, grabbing a flashlight off the top and shining it inside, “can you see that exposed panel?”

“Where it’s peeled back?” She asks, peering in. 

“Yes,” he says. 

Outside, there’s the clatter of a door closing. 

“Where’s he going?” Sevika asks immediately, making him turn, peer out the door. The lab is empty—Singed must have left. 

“I don’t know,” he answers semi-truthfully, “out.”

“Who’s he getting?”

“Nobody,” he says. Does she suspect an ambush? 

Her eyes dart down to regard his twisted leg, and he gets the ugly feeling that she’s currently considering how easily she could beat him in a fight—the answer is, very easily—before they flick back up and she lets out a low sigh. 

By the time he turns back to Jinx, she’s already halfway into the forge. 

“What are you doing?” He asks. Her voice, when it comes back, is muffled. 

“All you have to do is- is connect the green wires, I think, and then make sure to plug the switch in, and then I think you’re missing a part.”

“Missing?” he asks. 

“Yes, you need something to ignite the spark with, right?”

“I’d planned on installing that later,” he says, but she makes a sound of negation. 

“It’d be best here.”

He steps back, takes a moment to think on it—and, yes, it would be most convenient. For the first time, he smiles, and she extracts herself from the forge interior, blue hair a mess and a nervous cast to her mouth. 

“...Would it?” She asks, and he realizes he never responded to her last point. Suddenly, all that confidence is gone, drained out and replaced with something vulnerable. “You know best, obviously, you’re the inventor and you made this and-”

“No,” he says, cutting her off, “no, you were right.”

Still, she doesn’t move. He nods at the forge. “You were doing a good job. If you wish, you can continue with the wires.” He holds up his hand, wriggling the fingers slightly. “My hands are a bit too large.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, and for what, he’s unsure, but he nods anyways, watches as she returns to the forge. 

Must be an hour, maybe two, before Sevika steps off the wall. Currently, he’s walking Jinx through the construction of a filter, watching her fumble with the delicate meshes, but both of them pause as she approaches. 

“Time to go,” she says, huffing out a breath, “boss wants you back. Same time next week?”

The last question, she directs at Viktor, who nods. Jinx stands without complaint, dropping the filter—and he hesitates before speaking up. 

“No. Keep it.” 

Questioningly, she reaches for it. He nods. “You know what to do, no? Finish it by next time. Consider it… homework.”

The delight on her face at the prospect is both startling and slightly gratifying. He tries to smile back. 

Sevika fishes about in one of her pockets before withdrawing another brown pouch, this one jingling musically. She tosses it to Viktor, who just barely manages to catch it, the weight bowing his arm down. 

“For you and your father,” she notes, and steps out without waiting for his response, escorting Jinx with a careful hand on her shoulder. Even as they leave through the front door, he stands immobilized, carefully considering the pouch. 

Singed is not a father, not in the way that Viktor’s ever thought of him, even though he can perhaps see the logic in calling him that. But no, he had a father, one who died upon the bridge, and Singed is simply a man who fed, sheltered, clothed him, though he cannot think of an equivalent word for that at the moment. It has always felt faintly transactional in nature—always, Viktor has had a job, no matter how trivial, that he does in exchange for this bit of care. 

First, it was caring for Rio, and then it was as an errand boy and lab assistant, spending long afternoons hunting down rats in the gutters or ferrying chemicals to Singed during his experiments. Then, as he began to build, to tinker, it became creating contraptions for the lab, and now it’s this work, bringing in enough money to buy things like food while the other member of the household is off experimenting in the cave. 

Which, speaking of, he’s still not back from. Viktor leaves the bag of coins upon his desk before returning to his room, beginning the work on the nine other filters he needs to make. At least Jinx will take the load of one off of his shoulders. 

—

It is not until late night that Singed stumbles back in, closing the door with a heavy thud. Late enough that Viktor is usually asleep, but he had work to do, and besides, he tries to stay up and wait for Singed if he can. Does not want a repeat of that night of the explosion, does not want to be sleeping while the man bleeds out in the next room over. 

Tonight, he’s unharmed, though tired—he sits down at the lab table with a heavy thump, arms ridgid on the desk. Viktor approaches quietly. 

“You remember Rio,” Singed says—a rare occurrence, him starting the conversation. He nods. 

“Of course.”

“How did you do it?” He asks, swiveling around to regard him, “help her with the Shimmer. How was it done?”

“I… don’t know,” he replies, thinking once again of the giant salamander. Always affectionate, even in her last days, curling around his legs as he slept so she could share his warmth. He’d wanted to bury her, after she died, but Singed insisted on dissection—a process he was normally accustomed to, but in this case, sat out. Viktor left the cave during the process, spent those hours as she was cut to pieces sitting by the river and stretching his leg in the cool water. “Did you not find anything? In her blood?”

“No,” he says, “I’ve attempted distillation, but it is a fraught process. Little has come of it. Cannot preserve it, either—the meat spoils. Not physically, but the Shimmer inside does not take to being extended.”

He winces at the thought. Too soon, still. 

“All the ones before,” he continues, “and all the ones after, the Shimmer changes irrevocably. It is some malady that runs molecule-deep. In small doses—” now, he indicates himself—“it heals, somewhat. But what I’m working on requires too much.”

“What are you working on?” 

“A vast project,” is the answer, more crumbs of knowledge yet. The next words rest heavy on Viktor’s tongue, the words that he doesn’t dare say—that of his daughter. He knows, obviously, from seeing the room and the coffin, from doing his own bits of illicit research. Coming across the name Doctor Reveck, catching glimpses of a girl in Singed’s scratched golden locket. 

And Singed knows that he knows, because how could he not—has alluded to the matter, dancing around the topic with all the grace of a spy. 

It is part of the reason that he has never considered Singed his father, he supposes��because the spot of the child is long-filled. 

So he doesn’t say it, and instead shrugs, an uncomfortable movement with the cane. 

“I do not know how I did. Rio simply… survived.”

And how different it would’ve been, if she hadn’t.

Singed lets out a long sigh, the most emotion that he allows himself to show, before standing from the chair. “Perhaps you are uniquely brilliant. I’ll find the key. You should rest.”

Hypocritical words from the man that Viktor’s sure will stay up the rest of the night, but that’s another effect of the Shimmer. Honestly, that facet of the drug, the ability to need so little sleep, is almost as tempting as the prospect of fixing his leg. 

“The money is on the table,” he says. Singed makes no move to grab it, instead striding over to one of the long rows of jars upon the wall, selecting one with a litter of baby rabbits floating within. With his other hand, he reaches for a loaf of bread that sprouts clumps of glowing pink mushrooms. 

“Goodnight,” Viktor adds.

This, finally, garners a response. 

“Sleep well, Viktor.”

He doubts he will, thinking of Rio as he is, but the sentiment is nice.

[captainlilyuniverseworld]

Never Gonna Give You Up

Next Part in Willingly Unwilling (Can't believe we're already at 9 🤯)

Summary: Gale wants to forget Mystra but can't. Astarion helps.

It’s stupid and he should leave. He should not be sitting here in the tabernacle with Mystra’s shrine in front of him. He is admittedly a little drunk. Astarion may have collected and burned everything in the palace that reminded him of Cazador and his siblings but he left the wine cellar intact. And it’s very good wine. Gale finished the first and is working his way through a second bottle. 

The floor is cold and hard and his back hurts from leaning against the stone bench behind him. His neck hurts from the angle he’s held it in for so long. Peering up at Mystra’s statue. He missed her and he shouldn’t. He should be mad at her. He should be forgetting her. 

She’d tossed him aside. She’d left him with a hole in his chest that no matter how much magic he gave, he sacrificed, it just took and took and took. She made her forgiveness contingent on blowing himself up. He had the crown of Karsus within his grasp. All he had to do was reach out and take it. But then she’d dangled the cure right in front of him. 

“Bring me the Crown of Karsus and I will heal you Gale. I will restore you to your rightful place as an archmage. As my chosen.” 

And what did he do? Caved like the doe eyed schoolboy he’d been all those years ago. 

And she’d cured him alright. He had all the magic and power at his fingertips and then some. The only evidence of his folly, of his mistake, the evidence that something had been mildly wrong with him was the scared reminder on his chest. 

He drank more wine. He needed to leave. He needed to get up and leave and forget her but he can’t. She’s taken up too much space in his head. In his heart. And he shouldn’t be thinking these things knowing that he would come after him. 

Because it wasn’t a matter of if, it was a matter of when. Not after the earlier conversation they’d had. 

“I just don’t understand why you’re so against the idea,” Astarion watched Gale brush his hair in the mirror. “One little bite. One little drink and eternity is yours.” 

“I never said I wasn’t against it,” Gale replied. 

“Are you scared?” Astarion sat up. “Because it’ll only hurt for a bit. I’ll make it as painless as I can. I never want to hurt you, you know that.” 

“I do. I know, and it’s not, it isn’t out of fear,” Gale shook his head. He didn’t know what it was. He set the brush aside and started to pull his hair back. His fingers brushed his ear and his hand stilled. 

It was empty. It was still an odd feeling. It’d been less of a request and more of a demand from Astarion. He caught his gaze in the mirror and looked away just as quickly. 

“Surely you are not still beholden to your former goddess?” Astarion asked as he walked over to him. “The ex-lover who asked you to kill yourself for her. Who dangled a cure for that bomb in your chest in order for you to hand over a crown that by all rights, could and should have been yours? Are you?” 

He put one hand on Gale’s shoulder the other coming around his front, fingers stroking his cheek. A few inches over and those delicate fingers would be around his throat. It’s funny how much Gale would prefer that. 

“Of course not,” Gale reached up and put his hand over Astarion’s. “Why would I when I have you?” 

“Always so predictable.” 

Gale straightened and swallowed the mouthful of wine he’d been drinking. He didn’t have to turn around, or look over his shoulder, but he did. Astarion is standing near the doors with his arms crossed over his chest. 

It must have started raining because his hair’s wet and plastered to his forehead. Even with the dim lighting of the candles he can make out the man’s expression. He’s not angry like Gale would have expected. But he is upset. He’s hurt. 

“I thought we’d moved past this running away and getting drunk,” Astarion walked over. “If it’s not the Elfsong, or the Blushing Mermaid, it’s here.” He looked around. “The shrine belonging to your ex lover.” 

“...I’m not getting drunk…” is the point Gale makes. “I’m drinking…but not getting drunk.” 

That doesn’t make it better but it doesn't make it worse. 

“Do you still love her?” Astarion asked. 

“Of course not,” Gale answered. “I told you. I don’t love her anymore.” 

“Then why the fuck are you here?” Astarion stood in front of him. “Why do I have to find you here in front of her? Staring at her like some lovesick puppy?”

The rain is louder now. Thunder breaks up the sound every so often. Astarion is looking down on Gale and Gale is looking up at him. And his eyes are wet. From tears? From the rain? 

“I…” Gale doesn’t have an answer for him. Because he doesn’t want to be Astarion’s spawn? Not now. Not yet. But it isn’t as if he really belongs to Mystra anymore now does he? But if he becomes a spawn. Astarion’s spawn it’s the same thing. No longer beholden to a mistress but to a master. 

When Astarion touches him, his fingers are cold but gente. His eyes are soft. “Poor thing. You say the words but struggle to believe them yourself. She really has you in a chokehold doesn’t she? That’s why you came here isn’t it?”

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