#everything comes with a prize is what makes him rational

[erabu-san]

What kind of Introvert is Kinich do you think?

The introvert that is shy of People or "eww people?" 🤔

HMMM I don't believe he is shy, but it doesn't mean he dislikes people

It is kind of canon that he felt sometime alone, because he had no friends 😭 i think it is more "huh. People can't deal with me. Welp... that's how it is" his straightforwardness, rational thought and impassive face clearly doesn't help him. He talks only when he thinks it is necessary ??

[mimipolo]

Hey I have a request

Some Nam-gyu x reader where he developed a crush and sneaks of to talk to you at random times even tho you vote opposite of him he can overlook that however when he’s with thanos he’s mean and insults you which shocks and upsets you will you forgive him?

Nam-gyu x reader

I had so much fun writing this ngl, I hope I did the idea justice <33

Sorry Se-mi it's for plot

You had met Nam-gyu and Thanos after the first vote. At the time you felt a small sense of determination that you could make it through the games, get a higher prize and pay off all your debts in one go.

They had praised you excitedly, Thanos slinging an arm around you and going on about how they'd both protect you. You had trusted them for the most part, yes they were both a bit sketchy but they had a prescence among the players so it'd be easier to follow them. You had mixed feelings about the duo, one was always hyper and loved to mess with you and the other had a serious staring problem and a stupid smirk.

At the moment it didn't matter how you felt about them, you needed to get out of here. And now. You had barely survived the last game, knees grazed from when you fell and quickly scrambled to your feet. You wince at the pain as you curl in on yourself and rub your thumb over your bloodied hands. You were desperate for a sense of comfort or solidarity which at the moment only you could provide for yourself.

You were startled to see a head of black hair come out of nowhere from the ladder to your bed, angled eyes meeting yours hazily. Nam-gyu, a rare visitor. You're still startled by his sudden appearance, clutching your chest slightly as your eyes widen in surprise.

"Nam-gyu? What are you-"

"I'm coming up."

You don't get the choice to protest against it, he's already hauling himself up to get on your bunk, sitting cross legged in front of you. For a moment you're genuinely confused to why he's here, your bunk was fairly high off the ground and from how he was earlier you didn't expect him to be capable of climbing. Guess he sobered up. He's sighing softly as he links his fingers together, gazing at you as if in deep thought.

"You're gonna vote "X" next right?" He lifts his head up to see your reaction, clenching his linked fingers when he sees your lips purse as you look away from him. That was enough of an answer.

You personally are terrified, you had never been particularly close with the man and you were tense as to why he decided to make the trek up to your bed to ask you such a question. What's he going to do? Is he angry? Noticing the small shift in your body language he stops spacing out and runs a hand over his face. This sucks, honestly. The small infatuation based of pure curiousity he had for you had developed into a genuine crush he couldn't shake off. You intrigued him to no end and he was just working up to talking to you more.

So why'd this have to happen?

He's not that upset you want to leave, as much as he preached about how everyone should "Play one more game!", He understood the main basis of wanting to leave was the simple passion to live. A passion that'd he'd lost touch with after he lost everything he had. But you were in a similar situation, yet despite that you always seemed slightly hopeful things would work in your favour, and when they didn't you kept a level head. A rationality he wished he also had. You were smart, attractive and worst of all reasonable. Which is why you wanted to leave.

He's still staring at you but you feel less creeped out, you feel more worried. The usual carefree demeanor he had seemed to be crumbling right before you, he almost looked more tense than you.

There was a reason why he had come here, he didn't want to ask in front of Thanos. With him he'd be obligated to maintain this facade of now hating your entire being, but that wasn't the case, in fact it was very far from it. He wanted you like nothing else, selfishly. He could only hope you read him openly from the small amount of vulnerability he'd give you, something you were good at.

"Choose "x", I don't really care."

"Oh."

You are honestly pleasantly surprised by his words, your anxiety lowering massively. With the tensity gone you could see he looked...worried for you? You weren't totally sure but he laughs bitterly, pulling his signature move of pushing his hair behind his ears.

"Just know that, I'll vote to stay. So I'll still be sticking with Thanos."

You looked at him confused, and honestly he was too. There was no need to share all this information with you but he couldn't help it, he wanted to be open with you, show you how he is when you could be alone together.

You jolt slightly when he lightly takes one of the hands you're holding onto and taking them in his own. Streaks of blood crumbling away when he rubbed it away with careful thumbs, you could only watch him silently, admiring his oddly considerate actions. Even if the tint of blood still stained your palms. What's with all this special treatment, did he like you or something?

Before you could question him about what had just happened between you two he's sighing deeply and rubbing his hands together, ready to climb off your bunk.

"I'll try look out for you when I can."

And with that he's gone, you're left to sit with your thoughts and overthink how sweet he was to you just now. He was never like that before. Before you realised it a small smile was on your lips as you savoured the cold, brief moment of his touch still on your hand.

Though the next moment left you quite confused, it was time to vote. Everyone was still conflicted but you had made your choice and had a silent comradery with Nam-gyu. It gave you the bit off confidence to press the "x" button, some cheered while others groaned as you quickly switched your blue patch for its opposing side.

You could hear the familiar deep voice of Thanos going "What the hell man, we agreed one more game??" the direct confrontation made you physically tense as you made your way to side of potential exit. Nam-gyu didn't say a word, didn't even look at you either. Strange, you thought but you mostly brushed it off.

What the hell [Name], we agreed to keep playing, ya just switching on us all of a sudden?"

Thanos' voice echoed in your ears as he had you cornered near your bunk, you glance to Nam-gyu for some sort of support, even if it was just telling his friend to relax but you were quickly disappointed.

"Tch, did you really expect them to stay, I saw 'em practically trembling after the last round."

You felt your heart aches at his words, your expression immediately dimming as you stared at him confused. But unluckily for you he had mastered his poker face to the last detail. If he felt any guilt for what he said you wouldn't know, it was all behind that senile smirk now.

"Kehaha, nah you're right. All those loud sounds scare ya already?"

"Poor thing."

Thanos pushes you back accusingly, forcing your back to meet the unforgiving metal bars of the bunks, just as suddenly he's in your personal space, grabbing the red velcro badge on your chest roughly as he shook you. His eyes dilated widely as he threatened you with crazed, wild eyes.

"You're lucky this is there's a revote, switch this "x" to an "o" or I'll never let you live it down, got it?"

He laughs when you stagger back when he lets you go, Nam-gyu joining in with own mocking chuckle, it hurt you in a way it wouldn't have before. What was all that about earlier then, was it just a lie? But why, he didn't get anything out of it.

And again you're left alone to deal with your own self destructive thoughts, you just wanted to leave this place, it felt like you were suffocating within its walls.

Things ended up more violent than he had expected, he's panting as he rips the fork from the man's neck for the last time. How he felt? Great. It was like some great awakening as he stumbled up to his feet. It's only then he takes the time to digest the fact Thanos is dead, what a sad way to go hm?But also equally as pathetic. He wanted to laugh but he wanted to shout in frustration too. He does neither, looking down at his unpredictable partner in crime now laying on the floor covered in grime and blood. It's when he starts to feel the growing ache in his chest that the guards finally barge in to stop the fighting, forcing them all out the crime scene.

You're on your bunk, cuddled up to yourself as usual when you spot him, bloodied and worn along with other men. Your heart sinks as you take in the situation, watching as they shouted and cursed impurities from both sides. You had switched sides of sleeping arrangements due to the votes, so now you were able to get a slightly lower bunk bed. He shouldn't know where you were and yet his eyes snapped to you, for a moment they crumble slightly, a sliver of the worry he had coming out just for a moment. And then he's walking off, not looking back once.

It's lights out and you were terrified, you had finally found out what had happened in the men's bathroom and you knew it could lead to nothing good. Everywhere you thought to hide felt dangerous and you had no one to rely on, no one to truly trust.

He's shaking, his hands trembling as he sits perched on Thanos' bed, in memory of the annoying guy. He's feeling conflicted, he couldn't tell if he had cared for him or not, all he knew the indifference he felt for others wasn't the same with colourful haired man. He pops two pills in his mouth, brushing his knuckles against his lips as if the action were sacred. Soon thoughts drifted back to you. How were you holding up? Did you have anyone there to protect you? A sick part of him hoped not, he wanted to be the only one to look out for you, the only one you'd think to turn to.

He feels amazing, never felt so resolute in the entirety of the games than when he killed. Hissing in satisfaction as he struck the deadly cutlery into Se-mi's neck for what felt the 100th time. Wiping the blood of his face with the back of his hand when he feels a prescence behind him. He doesn't bother taking back his weapon as he gets up from his crouched position to turn towards the figure.

It's you.

You look absolutely terrified, your upper body was uptight and you could've gotten away with looking less afraid if it wasn't for how your legs trembled ever so slightly. You're fighting with yourself and you finally will your body to run but he's quick, yanking you back by your arm and holding you against him possessively. His breathing is hard and his bloody hands are firm against your back.

Heavy breaths fill your ears as he looks at you with wide shaken eyes, he'd been looking for you, even on this killing spree.

"You asshole, what are you doing are you crazy??"

"Heh- huh, yeah I feel like it a little..." the small chuckle he lets out feels distant from his true feelings and he wished you'd tell him why he's like this.

"You lied, you said you'd look out for me, prick." You want your words to be firm but the fear of everything around you was still so intense, it shook your words and made your throat tight.

"I know, I know alright. I said when I 'can' Thanos would've made things worse for both of us if I said something..."

"But he's not here anymore... I'll watch out for you, for real this time, promise."

Even in his drugged state you could tell these were his thoughts the whole time, and his visit to your bed made slightly more sense, he just wanted you to know he didn't actually hate you. What a weird guy, why not just come out and say what the game plan was? You wanted to ask him all these things, shout and push at him until you got all your frustration out.

But you're drained, there's still the far away screams of new victims being made and you couldn't tell what was side was losing.

But he's shushing you quietly, when you weren't even crying, but now it triggered you to. Hot silent tears running down your face as he huddled you into a corner and made you sit against the wall behind a fallen mattress. Grabbing your face and pressing his forehead to yours as he whispered softly.

"Nothings happening to us, we're getting that stupid cash prize and leaving this shitty place."

And then he's off again, you don't know where, but you'll stay here quietly and hope for his quick return.

[underratedbreadcrust]

Chance Equals Fortune — Chapter One

Squid Game | The Salesman x F!Reader

Summary: you find yourself questioning your next moves, debating whether to take the salesman up on his offer. meanwhile, somewhere else, the salesman and gi-hun play a game and exchange some words.

Warnings: swearing, mention of guns, ,drinking, nothing too bad.

a/n: tiktok just went down i am in despair. btw, holy crap, i didn't expect to get that much attention on my previous chapter, thank you all so much for the support! i am so sorry it took so long for this to come out but from now on i will do my best to upload consistently. the next chapter shouldn't take as long as this one.

Words: 2.9k

<<previous part

456-034

You rolled the card between your fingers, the glossy surface reflecting the numbers through the poorly lit bar where you were currently seated. The weight of the card—the one that would change everything—lay heavy in your hand. You brought the glass up to your lips, taking in a large swig of alcohol and downing it all in one gulp. Your mind drifted back to the game, the endless rounds of ddakji that stretched on far longer than either of you had expected. Your mind couldn't stop drifting back to the man who gave you the card, the salesman. His arrogance in approaching you and the confidence in his tone believing he would win, made beating him feel that much sweeter. Not to mention, you couldn't get out of your head the promise he had made—the games.

“The prize involves a large sum of money.” Those were his words. “A chance to change everything.”

You sighed, rubbing a hand down your face in frustration as the replay of his words refused to cease. You weren't stupid. No organization on earth would be willing to offer large amounts of money to those in debt without wanting something in return. 

What the hell would I be getting into? 

You could feel it in the way the businessman described the games, the hesitation beneath his perfect, pre-rehearsed words. The games were possibly dangerous, deadly even. 

Your thoughts continued to float back to the man, unable to let go the image of his defeat. He hadn't expected it, you had. You remembered the way his eyes had shifted—just a flicker—but it had been enough to feel the rush of power that coursed through you. The kind that surged up your spine as you watched him stumble, the look of frustration barely contained under his sharp features. It brought a twisted smile to your face, a sort of satisfaction that you hadn't felt in a very long time.

You scoffed at yourself, you can’t let a single interaction with a person who matched your competitive energy let you fall back into that dangerous train of thinking. It was that sort of attitude that led you to your financial problem in the first place. 

Disappointment. Deceit. Debt.

You'd already dodged enough bullets, danced with enough sharks to know the results of your reckless actions. Yet, no matter how hard you tried to fight it, your need to play had always won over any rational reasoning. Something about what the man had offered felt different, a new kind of gamble. Bigger stakes, bigger rewards. You could feel the possibilities swirling in your mind.

As you stood from your spot, pocketing the card, everything felt fuzzy—like you were floating, drifting on the edge of a decision, unsure if you should let go or pull yourself back to reality. You weren’t such a lightweight but right now it seems as if you’ve passed your limit. You try to regain your balance as you stumble towards the exit, the loud music and flashing lights disorienting as you bump into multiple people along the way.

Once you reach the outside, the fresh air makes you feel like you’ve rediscovered how to breathe. You inhale deeply, doing your best to walk along the dimly lit streets of Seoul, the sidewalks inhabited by those enjoying the city's nightlife. You call for a cab and once you’ve given the address to the driver, you sit back against the seat and take in the views drifting by. The city's neon lights blurred into streaks against the darkness, drowning everything around you in an almost dreamlike haze.

If I were to join the games….

The thought made your pulse quicken, in anticipation or fear you couldn’t tell, both emotions had melted into a single feeling long ago. The rules were simple. Win, and you could start over, away from the poverty and death threats that have taken over your daily routine. No matter how far you ran, your creditors always found you. Last time it was money, next week they would take your eyes. You knew that you would no longer be able to survive on your own, not anymore.

The thought made you chuckle…survival. What was survival if not just a slow death with a different name? A quieter, more painful death.

Finally arriving at your apartment, you paid the driver with the bit of cash you still had on you and walked up the steps of the building. Once you reached the front door, you stood motionless, feeling the outline of the card through your pocket, the weight of the decision pressing down on your chest. Out here, as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you didn’t stand a chance. But now, you were given a choice. A choice to win.  

The corners of your mouth twitched as the decision hardened inside of you. You never lose.

So why stop now?

“Let's play a game.”

At the moment, both the salesman and Gi-hun were sitting across from each other, face to face, observing each other's expressions under the multicolored fluorescent lights inside the motel. One of their faces showed loathing and disgust, his eyes glossed over with hatred and the pain of everyone he had ever lost. The other eyes were the complete opposite. Instead, shining at the prospect of a new challenge, a game in which either won or lost, would grant him one more chance to play. The blood marks on his face were the only betrayal of his deceptively put-together persona.

“I’m sure you’ve seen this in the movies. It’s called Russian Roulette.” He carefully placed one of the bullets in the gun’s chamber as he explained the rules. “But I’d like to make this game a little more serious,” his smile widened as the look in his eyes became increasingly more manic.

“Cut to the chase,” Gihun snapped.

The salesman’s eyebrow quirked in surprise. The man in front of him seemed nothing like that quivering coward who he met at the subway station long ago. Now, instead of darting, fearful eyes, Gi-hun’s gaze was almost vicious looking. Having transformed from that of a prey to a predator. I wouldn’t expect any less of the man who has been chasing me for the past 3 years. “We’ll take turns pulling the trigger without spinning the cylinder again. The bullet will be fired within six attempts, and the game will be over,” his head tilted, his words serving nothing more than to provoke Gi-hun, “What do you say?”

Gi-hun glared at him, his jaw clenching and his lips pressing into a thin line. He was back to the start. Once again being forced to play games to have the chance of gaining an advantage. Now instead, he was required to risk all the work he had done up to this point to get closer to the man in charge. He gulped as he slowly nodded his head. It seems his gambling addiction was still rooted deep into his being. However, instead of splurging his mother’s money, he had to wager his life. What other choice do I have?  The thought of all of his pain and labor to stop the games being in vain if he died didn’t even cross his mind. If I’m only one more bet away from the frontman, then so be it.

With that, the clash of two unrelenting forces began. As the rounds progressed, they each pulled the trigger, the odds of death increasing each time the gun shot blanks. Their postures became more rigid as they passed each other the gun. “Time to Say Goodbye” playing in the background, the slow and beautiful melody a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere between the two players. 

The recruiter took every opportunity to insult the other man, enjoying pushing all of the buttons he knew would rile up his competitor. He found it amusing just how effortless it was to provoke him. His confidence reached an all-time peak as the game reached its second to last round. The chance of dying now 50%. “Let me guess what you’re thinking right now…Screw the rules. Pull the trigger once or twice, and I can blow this guy’s face off.” 

He knew it was dangerous to anger the man with a gun in hand, but above all, he wanted to prove his point. “But I’ll have you admit one thing.” Show him that he’s the same piece of shit that groveled at his feet for a bit of spare change during their first interaction. “That you’re a piece of trash, just like everybody else.” 

Even if it cost him his life.

The man was sure his opponent would cave. His survivor's guilt not being a good enough reason to pull the trigger. He could practically envision his next actions. Gi-hun’s hold on the gun would tighten, his expression filled with that disgusting self-righteousness. His hand beginning to shake at the prospect of dying before ultimately plunging the gun in the other’s face and— 

Gi-hun brought the gun up to his temple and pulled the trigger.

The gun didn’t go off.

Well shit.

Gi-hun slowly pulled the gun away from his head, his hand trembling as he pointed it at the salesman. The man in the suit looked at Gi-hun before tearing his eyes away and glancing at the weapon. He hesitantly lifted his hand, his fingers brushing the firearm as his arm drew closer—

“No.”

The salesman blinked at Gi-hun. “No?” As Gi-hun yanked the gun away from the salesman’s grasp, a swarm of questions began to form at a rapid pace inside his brain. What was he playing at? What was he going to do?

Why won’t he let me kill myself?

Gi-hun let out a heavy sigh as he slumped his shoulders and dropped his head. He fidgeted with the gun as his face turned contemplative, weighing over his current options. He looked exhausted. Finally, he redirected his focus to examine the other man, his eyes raking over his form as if that way he could unearth a deeply concealed secret.

“To let you die now, just because you lost…would be no better than what he does.” Silence. The air became thick. The only sounds audible were the ending notes of the song still emanating from the businessman’s phone. Suddenly, a cackle burst through the room, the noise sounding foreign in the serious setting. The mirthless laughter erupted from the salesman as Gi-hun’s words sunk in. In an instant, he shot up from his seat and clutched onto Gi-hun’s shirt, jerking him forward so that their faces were mere inches away.

“Who. Do. You. Think. You. Are. Mr. Seong,” the recruiter spat out the words, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low tone. His mouth contorted to a sneer, his previously carefree demeanor now resembling that of a wild animal. Any concern for his appearance was long forgotten. “Do you think your pity grants you any worth to your already pathetic life?” The anger in his eyes burned like a wildfire, threatening to consume everything in its path. “You may be ashamed of your sins, but there is no use trying to deny who you really are. Why try to act like either of us  are any different from what fate has dictated for us?”

“Because!... I cannot accept that the only way to end the games is by being as immoral as the people who created them!” 

“Unlike you, I have learned to live with the fact that there is no other way to accomplish your goals. If you want to alter society to cater to your beliefs, then the process requires an equal amount of sacrifice. Whether that be your own…or of others.”

“Does that hold true for you?” Gi-hun tilted his head as realization settled in his eyes. “The only way you've managed to maintain that cynical outlook on life is by surrounding yourself only with experiences that would prove your point?” As he spoke, he once again brought the gun upwards, pushing it with such force to the salesman's chin it was sure to hurt. “Tell me, was you being an underling for them ever actually about getting rid of humanity’s waste?…or was that just an excuse for your own shortcomings as a person. Is that why you’re so eager to get put down like the dog you are? Eager to die the same way your father did?”

“My father! And many like him are a weight that hinders society’s ability to progress!” His voice rose to a shout, the veins in his neck becoming visible against his red skin. “That is why the games were created, to get rid of the bottom feeders who live their lives lurking in the shadows of accomplished men!” 

He paused. He looked down at his hands, still tightly holding onto Gi-hun’s shirt, and saw that his knuckles were white from how hard he was clutching. He let go, shouting would get him nowhere, not when he was dealing with someone as ignorant as Gi-hun. I can't let his words get to me. He took a deep breath before he began again, this time in a much calmer voice. “Those who contribute should not be forced to bear the burden of putting up with those who don’t,” his lips quirked up in a small smirk, “do you think your mother wanted to spend her late years providing for you?”

Gi-hun clenched his jaw. “I realize my faults now, and if I could go back to change them I would…but I can't. Which is why I need to shut these games down, because I need to fight for what I can change—what needs to change. Not just dwell on the memories of my past mistakes.”  He paused. Slowly, he loosened the pressure of the gun against the salesman’s chin. He tilted back into the chair, creating space between the two. His chin jutted upward as his facial expression hardened into determination. “And you're going to help me.”

The businessman chuckled as he adjusted his suit and tie, “I have no reason to. Even if I did want to assist in your little heroic endeavor you wouldn't stand a chance.” His gaze turned distant and empty as images of the past flooded his mind, “I have seen firsthand just how controlling ambition is, how far people are willing to go to satisfy their hunger, one man won't make the slightest difference.”

“Then prove your point. Help me get in and I’ll show you that all you need in one person to create a spark,” his voice was steady and unwavering. His confidence akin to that of a sturdy tree, firmly rooted in the ground, and standing tall against the storm that was the man sitting across from him. “After all, you lost. You lost against me and that’s eating away at you, right?” It was Gi-hun’s turn to laugh, the irony of the situation not lost on him. “I know that you more than anyone respect the rules when it comes to games. Now that I’ve decided not to kill you, you still need some form of punishment to tell yourself that you can take a defeat with dignity. You owe me”

The recruiter’s jaw tightened.

Gi-hun continued, “Unless you'd like to admit that you really are a dog. Favoring serving your owners above respecting the outcome of the game. In that case, you would be a hypocrite, and you'd have to admit you're no better than those you claim to hate.”

He blinked, his eyes narrowing as he scanned Gi-hun, for the first time since meeting him he was taking the time to really look at him. For once in his life, the recruiter is seemingly at a loss for words, his quick wits abandoning him. Eventually, he let out a deep sigh, one that seemed to carry the weight of all those whose lives he had taken. He didn't believe that humanity's greed would come to an end just because one individual happened to be the exception. But Gi-hun was so disgustingly optimistic. So, he thought he might as well offer the one piece of advice that would allow Gi-hun to stand a chance.

“Fine.”

Gi-hun froze in shock, he hadn’t expected the man to actually be willing to help him.

The salesman interlocked his fingers as leaned forward, his aura turning into that of a successful strategist. “In that case, there’s someone you’ll want to meet. Her name is Kang No-Eul. She is employed as one of the guards for the games but has recently been displeased with the system she works for,” his hands moved randomly as he emphasized the points in his words, almost as if he were discussing a presentation. “She is a North Korean defector, and the only thing she wants is to have her child cross over as well.” He spoke in a light, almost playful tone, “If you were to help her…she would be indebted to you.”

Gi-hun looked at his lap, he didn’t want to emotionally manipulate a mother into helping him by using her child. The more he thought about it, he knew he didn’t have any other choice.

“That way, you could convince her to aid you in pretending to be a guard. You won’t be able to protect the players that way, but you would be on the inside of the inner workings of the games. More power. More control.”

The salesman abruptly stood up, snatching the phone off of the desk and shoving it into Gi-hun’s chest. “Her contact information along with everything else you will need is in there.”

Gi-hun looked up, concern suddenly lacing his features, “What about you?”

The salesman gave an empty smile.

“Does not matter. They are bound to find out what I did soon enough."

@scuzmunkie @onyxmango @riellarielle25 @laurenbenoit70 @azmosposts @moxxxane @milfsarefineashell @okayiamkassandra @giaeunnxz @mullty @outofst1le @recordofragnarokfan2

i am so sorry that the the reader didn't interact with gong yoo but this was kinda necessary for the plot. i promise they will exchange words in the next one. please keep commenting i loved reading your thoughts on the last post.

[solxamber]

Yours to Keep — Rollo Flamme x reader

Rollo is calm, collected and confident. Jealous? Rollo Flamme? No way! ...unless?

Rollo Week D6!

You’re walking through the sun-dappled streets with Rollo, your hand brushing his occasionally as you stroll side by side. The warmth of your newfound relationship hums in the air, making the world seem a little brighter. You’ve worked hard to get here—after all, Rollo was no easy conquest. But now, here you are, together at last, content in each other's company.

As you walk, you spot an old friend from the academy. A wide grin spreads across your face as you jog over to greet them. "Hey! Long time no see!" you exclaim, excitedly launching into conversation, catching up on all the things you’ve missed. Your laughter rings out as your friend cracks a joke, and just for a moment, it's feels like you forgot Rollo's presence.

Meanwhile, Rollo stands a few paces away, hands clasped behind his back, quietly observing. At first, he’s patient—he knows you’re social, that you light up a room with your enthusiasm. But as the conversation stretches on, his chest tightens.

The more you laugh, the more a gnawing feeling builds inside him. He knows he’s not the most entertaining person in your life—certainly not someone who could make you laugh so freely. And seeing you enjoy someone else's company like this stirs something bitter within him.

He lowers his gaze, struggling to keep his composure. It’s irrational to feel this way, he tells himself. But no amount of rationalization can quell the jealousy tightening around his heart. With a deep breath, he steps forward, the hurt creeping into his tone despite his best efforts to hide it. "I’ll be at the dorm," he says, as politely as he can manage. "Please... come when you’re done."

You blink, surprised by the sudden shift in his demeanor. There’s something off in his voice, something pained. As your friend waves goodbye and heads off, you turn back toward Rollo, concern furrowing your brow. You quickly close the distance between you and him, jogging after him until you catch his hand in yours. "Hey," you call softly, gently squeezing his hand. "What’s wrong?"

Rollo doesn’t answer immediately, his jaw tightening as you walk together. He tries to hide his vulnerability, but it’s impossible now that you’re so attuned to his every shift in mood. You reach the dorm in silence, but the tension lingers, unspoken.

Once inside, you tug him into a soft embrace, arms wrapping around him tightly. He stiffens at first, caught off guard by your sudden affection, but then slowly, he melts into your touch, resting his head against your shoulder. His voice, when he finally speaks, is low and hesitant. "I’m afraid," he admits, the words barely above a whisper. "I’m afraid that now that you’ve... won me, you’ll lose interest. That I’ll be—" He hesitates, voice cracking with insecurity. "That I’ll be a disappointment."

You pull back just enough to look into his eyes, your hands still holding him close. "Rollo," you begin, your voice filled with warmth and sincerity. "The chase was fun, sure. But you’re not some prize I just wanted to win and leave behind. You’re everything to me." You reach up, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "You’re not a disappointment, and I didn’t pursue you just for the thrill. I pursued you because I care about you. I want you. And being with you now, like this, is even better than the chase."

His eyes widen, and for a moment, he’s speechless. The vulnerability in his expression makes your heart ache—he's spent so long guarding himself that the idea of being genuinely wanted still seems foreign to him. Slowly, though, a soft smile tugs at the corners of his lips, the tension in his shoulders easing as your words sink in.

"You really mean that?" he asks, his voice still carrying the faintest hint of doubt.

"Of course I do," you reply, cupping his cheek gently. "You’re stuck with me now."

He lets out a soft chuckle, the sound of his relief palpable. He leans into your touch, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. "I’m... grateful for you," he murmurs, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. "More than you know."

The two of you stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other's warmth, the earlier tension melting away into something more intimate. You sway slightly in place, still holding each other, and when Rollo finally pulls back, there's a new sense of ease between you.

"Okay," you say, breaking the comfortable silence with a teasing grin. "Now that we’ve gotten all the serious stuff out of the way... I think you owe me some cuddles for putting me through that emotional rollercoaster."

Rollo’s cheeks flush, but he doesn’t protest. Instead, he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you once again, this time without hesitation. "If that’s what you want," he says, his voice just shy of playful.

You smile against his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and calm beneath your cheek. "Always."

And just like that, the two of you sink into a comfortable rhythm, finding peace in the simple act of being together—no more chasing, no more doubts. Just you and him, perfectly content.

Masterlist

[sugar-crash]

🍬King Candy (Wreck-It Ralph) x (gn) Reader👑

(Game Hopping Loser Reader Edition!)

(Picture’s not mine!)

(Request’s here! Alright so, this my first ever request to have such detail! I love it honestly, gives me a far clearer idea of what to do and not feel like I’m pulling stuff out of my ass.)

- No offense but I think when you get found out at first he considers you a fucking pest and a copycat, a drowned rat that ended up on his turf.

- Some MAJOR negotiation skills are needed to convince him to keep you there, and even then he throws you into the fungeon and makes Sour Bill swear to keep your presence on the low, which horrifies the poor sour drop into compliance like he usually does.

- I think he’d visit you specifically to taunt you at first, smugly dangling freedom like a carrot over your head like you’re a prized race pig, giving you that idea that he is not the benevolent king he portrays himself as till you eventually realize he isn’t what he says he is.

- He’s far too overzealous for his own good on top of that and I think in some way or another he lets it slip that he doesn’t even belong to Sugar Rush and has too much information about the arcade in its early-early days and it sparks a deal between you two that you won’t squeal in exchange for several things, like freedom, a disguise, etc…

- He keeps everything on the down low when he does it, making you help him every step of the way because Sour Bill could become a liability if he sees too much, simply telling his little assistant he finally decided to let you go.

- He really fucking hates you at first, something about you aggravates him to no end but he has to refrain from being too expressive with his hatred over you so his joyous and sweet persona is maintained.

- You act too much like him, it’s what he both loathes but slowly comes to love about you, as low as he thinks of you I think a part of him is finally relieved to have someone who acts and thinks like him to rationalize his actions.

- He gets a sense of superiority from how “better” he was at bending the reality of Sugar Rush to his command over you, you have to settle for being less than, even with your dirt on him he still has control.

- That power dynamic doesn’t exactly melt away when you guys begin having romantic feelings for one another, those soft moments between you two having that underlying edge to them that you two never seem to shake away.

- There’s a kind of shaky trust between you two, which is supported by what you know about one another, that agreement keeping you both tied to one another to the point where you two start dating.

- Much like everything else it’s a secret you both have for a long while, fleeting touches and private displays of affection that are well hidden and kept under lock and key before you two announce it in the most grandiose way possible.

- Secrets are great and all, with you two having more than you can count, but they can be rather exhausting to maintain, so becoming an actual couple in the eyes of Sugar Rush seemed like the only way you guys could be able to be there for one another.

- You guys both trust and distrust one another in a way that can’t be duplicated anywhere else, there’s both discord and harmony in the way you guys are— But still greatly dysfunctional.

- I think he tries to make himself believe that what you two have is born from convenience, I mean, gets less suspicion on him if he shows himself to have a cutesy and picturesque relationship with someone just as friendly-looking, the same thing with you—

- But it’s pretty obvious it isn’t, as much as you both probably deny it, that selfishness you both share being your strength and folly.

- Does have the habit of getting easily frustrated with you when you slip into, that “Stick to the program” mantra that was hard-coded into gaining another meaning as you two try to do hard to keep your places in Sugar Rush.

- Evil enabler couple that make each other WORSE!!

- You two perpetuate that god-awful behavior and make it even worse, helping one another with your shared charades, keeping those candy citizens and children racers oblivious about your true natures, like having a false alibi for one another when something goes awry.

- And going awry it does, literally, in the worst way possible, like doomsday kind of awry.

- Secrets can be kept for only so long after all, and you two are package deal for that downfall.

(Fvb'yl ivao h spaasl zabwpk il fvb nbfz nva aol zwpypa.)

[becca-e-barnes]

heyy!! can you do a dbf bucky caught masturbating? only if u wanna obv~!

No honestly bc the thought of a man masturbating is way too hot, it makes me so weak 🥵

I've probably talked about this before but it's delightful to imagine him staying over in the guest room of your house for a while and when he thinks the house is empty, he's taking some time for ✨self care✨, not knowing that you're still home.

I always imagine he's so vocal too so when he thinks he can be as loud as he wants, he doesn't hold back.

He's surprised at how badly he needs this, taking his time at first with just a few leisurely strokes. He's rock hard in no time, his hand wrapped around his own length, doing everything he can not to think about you.

Fuck, it would be so wrong to think about you. He knows it would. It's wrong to think about kissing up your bare legs or sucking bruises over your collarbones. It's wrong to imagine how you'd look on your knees for him, begging him to finish on your face.

No matter what he does, that's all his brain wants to come back to. He can almost hear how sweet your little moans would be when he rubs your clit.

You'd be such a good girl for him. He knows that and he loves it.

There's no harm in letting himself give in a little. As he gets hornier, precum drips from his tip and he's only focused on imagining how gorgeous you'd look beneath him, lost in pleasure the way he is.

He hadn't even considered that you might still be home. As far as he knew, you were planning to go out with your parents so he was safe to groan your name the way he wanted to.

Heat pools between your legs at the sight of him on the bed in front of you. The guest room door hadn't been pulled shut completely and when curiosity got the better of you, you were beyond surprised to see Bucky laid out on the bed, stroking his own cock and whining your name.

"Such a good fucking girl for me." His voice was loud enough that you could hear every word.

His hand moved faster, soft breathy moans tumbling from his lips and hanging in the air.

Your panties were soaked. Rational thought had all but left you. Pure need buzzed in the pit of your stomach and there was no doubt in your mind that you'd summon this image of Bucky every single time you felt like touching yourself for at least the next 3 months.

The decision seemed to come naturally to you and before you'd really thought about it, you'd pressed the door open and stepped inside, settling on the end of the bed.

Bucky sounded startled. Understandably. His cheeks were flushed, desperately trying to cover himself and make apologies at the same time.

"Bucky, please." You almost sounded timid while you prized the blanket from his grasp. "Can I taste you?"

He swore he had to be dreaming. This couldn't be real. You weren't actually asking that right after he'd spent so long imagining it. Is this how manifesting works?

"Are you sure?" He asked, not missing the way his dick throbbed when you nodded enthusiastically.

Bucky pulled the blanket back, grasping his dick again, stroking slowly. He swore he'd never forget the sight of your tongue pressed to the tip of his cock, looking up at him before you swirled your tongue around the head, gathering as much precum as you could.

"Oh fuck, that's it. Such a good girl for me, holy shit." He's lost in the feeling and he couldn't tear his eyes away from you, even if he wanted to.

Your lips wrap around his tip, sucking gently while he continues to stroke himself and he swears he's going to lose it. You hum your approval at a fresh bead of precum gathering over his tip but it's not there very long before you've licked that up too.

He forces himself not to imagine how pretty you'd look with your tongue or your face painted with his cum because if he does, this is over. He's determined to make that a reality but not just yet.

[somedaylazysomeday]

Experiment - Part Two

Tech x fem!reader

Tech decides to prove how simple female bodies can be.

Can be considered a second part to my one-shot 'Experiment', but can also be read as a stand-alone work.

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 3,800

Warnings: Antagonism, ill-advised bets, assumptions about females, mentions of sexual behavior, sexual touching, fingering, unprotected piv sex, creampie

Previous | Masterlist

---

It wasn’t rare, per se, that you and Tech found yourselves alone. 

Your relationship could be contentious, but it wasn’t anything bad enough that you needed to keep a referee on hand. You found him slightly grating and he thought you were oblivious at times. You also vented some of that low-level irritation by sleeping together every so often, but you had never decided to be anything close to exclusive. 

That being said, Clone Force 99 was busy enough that neither of you had much time for finding another partner. It had been a particularly bad dry spell for you. Which was why you were unashamedly eavesdropping on a few troopers behind you in a market on Savareen.

“Anyway, I told her I wanted to bring someone else with us and she freaked out,” one of the troopers was telling his friends. “She said I wasn’t even good enough to keep her happy, let alone two people at the same time. Can you believe that? Not my fault that making her come is harder than defusing a det on a countdown timer”

Thankfully, you were facing the other direction, because that made you grin broadly. From everything you had heard so far, the relayed statement from the trooper’s girlfriend had been harsh but true. The trooper was a remarkably selfish lover if his stories were to be believed. Personally, you thought the girlfriend had a point. 

“Are you almost finished?” Tech asked. “We need to return to the ship.”

“Shhh!” you hissed. “I want to hear how this plays out.”

You couldn’t be sure whether the troopers had heard you or if they simply weren’t bold enough to tell their friend that his girlfriend was right. In any case, the only answer they offered was a simple, “That sucks, man.”

“Yeah,” the other agreed. “Females are a mystery.”

“We will miss our rendezvous,” Tech warned. 

You huffed at him and went to pay for the basket of produce you were holding. After weeks of nothing but rations, the prospect of fresh fruit and vegetables was something you couldn’t turn down. Still, you were irritated at losing your stolen entertainment and you glared at Tech when he fell into step with you on your way back toward the Havoc Marauder. 

“I don’t know why you were rushing me,” you said eventually. You were passing the last of the small town’s buildings and the forest grew thicker around you. “Hunter sent a comm that the window needed to be pushed back by an hour. They won’t be at the rendezvous for at least two hours and we’re not that far from the ship.” 

“And I don’t know why you were so eager to continue listening to those regs.” Tech shook his head. “It was hardly an interesting story, especially given the trite and untrue assurances at the end. Females are hardly a mystery.” 

Your jaw twitched. “And what exactly does that mean?” 

“Females across most species barriers share several characteristics,” he spouted instantly. “The majority of them prefer to be listened to rather than have their problems solved, prize social bonds rather than holding leverage over others, and are often capable of more complex, circuitous thinking than most males.” 

“They were talking about female bodies, Tech.” 

Tech fell quiet at that. You gloated for a moment, happy to have silenced him for once, but it didn’t last. Apparently, he had needed a moment to consider that, but came back with a reply soon enough: 

“There are too many species to narrow down what he was talking about. Different species have different physiology, and need different stimulation to achieve pleasure.” He adjusted his goggles, and you could see the brightness of his eyes behind them. “For instance, did you know that female Dianogas derive pleasure only from having the pressure in their eyeball increased by a factor of twenty percent?” 

You nodded slowly. “Gross.” 

Tech had been preening at his masterful display of knowledge, but his expression dropped into one of derision when you failed to be as impressed as he thought you should be. “It is far more complex a system than is possessed by most species. Humanoid species are all similar. And human females are the least complex of all.” 

That sounded as if you were being challenged. With the frustration stemming from your recent dry spell and the general irritation of being around Tech when he was in one of his ‘I am the god of all knowledge’ moods, you accepted that challenge. “Go on.” 

“Human females share close similarities to each other, likely stemming from a narrow evolutionary path. Even ignoring the genitals, human females have a set of several extragenital erogenous zones. They are, in descending order: breasts, lips, neck, ears, and buttocks(1).” 

You rolled your eyes, readjusting where your bag sat on your shoulder. “That’s ridiculous. Not everyone likes having all of those places touched.” 

“Not everyone, but a majority,” Tech expanded. “And the type of stimulation can vary between each place. For example, lips are best stimulated orally while breasts can be stimulated either orally or manually. That means manipulated by hand.” 

You hissed at the condescending explanation, but he paid no attention to you. Tech could get this way when he was convinced that someone would benefit from his knowledge. “And that is not taking the actual genitals into account. The human clitoris has over ten thousand nerve fibers, some of which extend into the vaginal channel to form what is known as the g-spot.” 

“I already knew all of this, Tech,” you bit out. Okay, maybe you hadn’t known the exact number of nerve fibers in the average clit, but you didn’t appreciate being lectured on your own body. 

Tech turned to you, raising his eyebrows. “And yet you believed those troopers were correct when they said human females were a mystery. There is nothing mysterious about the body of the human female. If given the proper stimulation, most human females can reach orgasm in under three minutes.” 

“That can’t possibly be true.”

“Are you doubting the research or my knowledge of it?” 

“Are you admitting that you’ve done research into how quickly you can make someone come?” you countered. 

“Of course.” Tech was, as ever, matter-of-fact. “And you personally have benefitted from my research. Yet you still doubt whether I’m correct.”

“I’ve been with some talented people,” you said, making sure to emphasize the plurality so he wouldn’t think you were solely talking about him, “but I’ve never come in less than three minutes. So, according to my personal experience, you’re wrong.” 

“I am not wrong,” Tech disagreed, clearly appalled. “If you don’t believe me, that is your choice, but I am not incorrect.” 

You didn’t answer him, relieved when you saw the Havoc Marauder just ahead. As you had expected, you had plenty of time before you needed to go meet the others, but that meant you could put away the provisions and get some time away from Tech until he started to annoy you less. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t seem capable of letting your disagreement lie. He followed you as you went to the storage room where you kept the rations. “The research is simple and well-supported. Even if you ignore anecdotal evidence, there are clear trends that prove-”

“Tech, can we just let this go?” you asked, trying not to sound overly antagonistic. “We can just agree to have our different opinions.”

“It is not a matter of opinion,” he insisted. “There is a single answer, supported by science, research, and experimentation. I can prove it to you.” 

That made you pause and turn to him. “What? What exactly do you mean by that?”

“Allow me to prove that I am correct,” Tech repeated. 

That was not enough of an answer, so you watched him in silence. There was a strong chance that he meant to show you the papers and studies where he had gathered his information. 

When you didn’t agree, Tech apparently decided to offer more of an explanation: “If you agree, I will use the knowledge I’ve gained to bring you to orgasm in under three minutes.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea-” you started. 

“I understand it can be frightening to have one’s worldview challenged-”

“Yeah, I’m terrified of an orgasm.” The sarcasm was thick in your voice. “You know what? Fine. And when you’re wrong, you’ll have to admit that your research wasn’t as effective as first-hand experience.”

“I look forward to proving you wrong.” Tech took the bag from your shoulder, tucking it neatly inside of the (little-used) produce cabinet in the ration storage room. He latched the cabinet with sure motions, turning expectantly to you when he was finished.

“Bunks,” you suggested. He inclined his head in agreement and followed you to the small barracks aboard the ship.

You shoved aside your sheets and the discarded clothing that was still tangled in them. When you had woken up, it had seemed impossible that you would be bringing anyone back to your bunk, so you hadn’t bothered keeping anything neater than they needed to be. Tech was more than a little messy, himself, so you didn’t worry that he would look down on you for it. 

“How do you want to do this?” you asked, hesitating before you climbed onto the mattress. 

“I do not believe that you undressing should count toward my time,” he pointed out. 

“Fair enough,” you agreed, stripping quickly. You had been dressed casually to visit the nearby market, so the process didn’t take long. When you were naked, you rested your hands on your hips and tilted your chin at Tech. “Next?” 

Tech swallowed hard, like the sight of your bare body had made his mouth go dry. It was a heady feeling, and your confidence soared. 

“Remember what I told you about extragenital erogenous zones?” Tech asked, switching into lecture mode. 

“Yes,” you agreed, adding, “which is not an attractive term, so I don’t think you’re helping your own case, here.” 

“The attractiveness of the term is not what matters.” Tech stepped closer, hand rising. “The important thing is how they impact you.” 

You opened your mouth to loose a sarcastic comment, but stopped short at the feeling of Tech’s fingertips brushing lightly against your bottom lip.

It was… odd, having someone touch your mouth. But the warmth and familiar smell of Tech's skin kept you where you were. You would at least let him have his chance. 

His hand went to your chest, fingers splaying to cup your breast. When you were nestled in his palm, he trailed his fingers together, letting your breast slip under his fingers until they met with a soft pinch on your nipple.

Tech's head tipped closer, letting him mouth at the line of your throat. Those lips traveled upward until he could scrape his teeth lightly over your earlobe. You fought a shiver. 

And then you did anyway, shuddering against him when Tech reached to run his gently squeezing fingers across your ass. 

“Breasts, lips, neck, ears, and buttocks,” he murmured. “Slightly out of order, but have I managed to convince you?” 

“You've managed to waste thirty seconds of your time,” you replied, fighting to keep your voice almost steady. “Two and a half minutes to go and I'm not anywhere near an orgasm.”

“Patience.” 

You frowned at the chastisement, but Tech paid no attention. He guided you down to lay on your bunk, feet on the edge of the mattress supporting your half-bent legs. It left your core exposed to the chill of the air on the ship, and you abruptly realized that those simple touches had left you wet. Not soaking, but well on your way there. 

You watched between your own legs as Tech studied your core. He seemed to be plotting his methods. Before you could remind him again of the time requirement, he brushed gentle fingertips over your labia. 

It felt more intense than you could believe. And when that delicate touch moved to caress your inner lips, you shifted your hips impatiently. 

Tech's attention turned to your clit. His first brush over it was so light that you could hardly feel anything, but he soon grew bolder in his touches. He worked you faster and faster, pausing only to sink two fingers deep into your channel. 

You arched against your bunk, a shocked and plaintive cry leaving you before you could even try to bite it back. 

“Good,” Tech said softly. “I want to hear you. Let me hear that you like what I'm doing.”

You weren't entirely sure how you would have responded to that, because Tech crooked his fingers inside of you and started hunting. Deliberately, he mapped your channel until he zeroed in on a rough, spongy patch on the inside of your front wall. 

A slight smile appeared on Tech's face. You had a moment to think about how handsome it made him before he stole your ability to see. 

He bore down on your g-spot, putting pressure on it until you cried out again. If you had the ability to remember words, you would have told him that it was too much. 

Tech hummed in understanding anyway  and shifted his efforts. His thumb worked against your clit as his fingers started a circular sort of thrusting motion. Your g-spot was still getting more attention than it ever had, but it managed to be less direct - and with that, less intense. 

Just when you started to wonder how close you were to three minutes having passed, Tech's mouth dropped to your hip. He applied lips and teeth to the sensitive crease where your hip met your thigh. 

Your orgasm rose up and swallowed you whole, and you never had a chance to fight against it. One moment, you were treading water in the assault and the next, you were drowning in sensation. 

Dimly, you became aware of the fact that your fingers hurt. With that realization, you came slowly back to your body, letting your stiffened fingers uncurl from where they had been fisted in the sheets. Your thighs unclenched, releasing Tech's hand from where it had been trapped between them. 

His fingers were still working gently inside of you and you gathered your strength to push him away. “How… how long?”

“Two minutes and forty four seconds,” Tech informed you, sounding obnoxiously matter of fact about it. “It likely would have taken less time if I had not stopped to test my understanding of extragenital erogenous zones.”

You would be irritated, but the strength and suddenness of your orgasm had left you largely unable to do anything but stare up at the ceiling. The heaviness of your limbs felt strange without a full buildup of activity, and it almost seemed as if your body was in a state of shock at how quickly the pleasure had been pulled from you. 

“Tech, can- can you-” you trailed off, reluctant to ask him for anything else. Eventually, you settled on, “Water?”

“Of course,” he agreed, instantly on his feet and rushing to get you a canteen.

When he handed you the water, you could watch Tech eyeing how long it took you to accept it, then to raise the canteen to your lips. Even so, he waited until you had finished drinking to ask, “Is something wrong?” 

You lifted one shoulder. “I- no? I don’t think so. It was just weird to come that suddenly. It’s like my body is pissed that there isn’t more.” 

“Do you want me to do it again?” Tech asked. 

You searched for sarcasm or mocking in his tone, but there was only patient curiosity. “Can you.. kiss me?” 

“Gladly.” 

He pressed a kiss to your lips. Then another, kneeling on the bed to reach you more easily. Eventually, he was lying on the bed beside you, all so he could kiss you without putting either of you in an awkward position. One of his hands gently cradled your cheek while you pressed a palm to his chest so you could feel the steady thump of his heartbeat. 

You continued far longer than you had expected, past the solace of a simple kiss and into the realm of need. You didn’t think it was entirely one-sided. Maybe the kiss had started for your benefit, but nothing said Tech couldn’t enjoy it, too. 

And he did. You could tell by the way he squirmed closer, by the heat of him pressed against you, by the steady deepening of the kiss you shared.

“Is this helping?” he asked. 

His eyes were bright with desire, a faint but undeniable rasp edging his voice. Maybe you should let him ask, to help assuage your pride. But you took pity on him instead. “Yes, but it might help more if you made me come again. Slower. The old-fashioned way.” 

Tech started to ask what exactly ‘old-fashioned’ meant. You could hear the question rise behind his parted lips. And yet it faded away before it could be asked, answered by the way you gripped his length through the material covering his lower half.  

His breath shuddered out and his hips twitched, but Tech still asked, “Are you certain-?”

“Yes, if you are.” 

Tech’s response to that was to reach down and grasp the back of your leg, tugging your knee up and over his hip. You were both still cradled by your mattress, but he was perfectly between your thighs. 

“You are stunning,” he told you. 

“You’re still dressed,” you told him. 

Tech paused, glancing down with a mixture of irritation and dread. “A problem I intend to fix momentarily.” 

He pulled away from you, rolling to his feet with his hands already working at the fastenings of his body glove. He had stripped it off in moments and you couldn’t help but be impressed at the efficiency of his movements.

When he slipped back into your bunk, he was all tan skin and subtle musculature. Tech arranged you both the way you had been before the interruption and, without the body glove in the way, the head of him was notched at your entrance. You were noticeably wet from your earlier orgasm, and he started to slip into you simply due to the position and your proximity. 

Tech’s voice was completely unsteady as he asked, “Precisely how slow do you want this to be?” 

“More than three minutes.” 

It may have been a dry witticism, but Tech accepted it like it was the most sincere request he had ever heard. And you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it, not when he pushed into you in a series of shallow thrusts.

When he had bottomed out inside of you, Tech reached to brush a bead of sweat from your temple. “Slow.” 

“Slow,” you confirmed with a nod. 

Tech began to move. He stayed deep inside of you for the most part, using tiny pulses to keep you building toward a reasonably paced orgasm. Occasionally, when he couldn’t help himself, he withdrew further and plunged back into you. Each of those thrusts pushed the breath from your lungs, shocking you no matter how often they happened. 

It wasn’t the frenetic sprint toward pleasure that you had experienced before. Rather than having pleasure ripped mercilessly from your system, Tech’s efforts were coaxing it from you. 

His pelvis rocked against yours, pushing and pulling incrementally inside of you. The bunching of his muscles against your body told you how much he was holding back even as the thick press of him stretched your channel. Compared to the jarring shock of your rushed orgasm, this pleasure felt utterly lazy and self-indulgent.

And you didn’t seem to be the only one who thought so. 

When Tech wasn’t watching you intently, his eyes fell closed and his brow furrowed as if he needed to concentrate so he could process everything he was experiencing. After one particularly deep pulse, your body tightened. It wasn’t your second orgasm - not yet - but it was a warning that another one was coming. 

Tech’s eyes flew open and he made a rough, helpless sound. Ridiculously, that was the thing that finally pushed you over the edge. The fact that you could pull such pleasure from him even without the extensive research he had done into erogenous zones - genital or otherwise - made you feel extraordinarily powerful. And, of course, it didn’t hurt that he was such a gorgeous man. 

In any case, you gasped a warning a half-second before your body clamped down around his. Tech kept going, working you through it, and it only pushed you higher. The pleasure went from silver to a blazing white, blinding in its intensity and almost painful. 

It was hard to come down when Tech’s rhythm was speeding up, but you could tell he was close by the wrinkle between his eyebrows. “Where-?”

“My implant is still good.” 

Tech’s lips parted and his brows furrowed, but you couldn’t see any more of his face than that. By the time he started to spill inside of you, he had buried his face in your neck. His arms wrapped around you, squeezing hard enough that it took extra time for you to catch your breath. 

When the desperate thrusts finally stopped, Tech fell utterly boneless against you. You sympathized as you slumped against the bed. You dozed lightly, rousing only when you felt him pressing his lips against your shoulder. 

You chuckled lightly, glancing down just in time to catch his eyes flicking up toward you. “You okay?” 

“Rather wonderful, actually,” he admitted, his lips still brushing your skin as he spoke. “And you?” 

“Good,” you said, wincing slightly as he moved against your core. “I’ll be sore, I think.”  

“I shouldn't be surprised.” Tech gingerly moved away from you, the stickiness of your activities trying to keep you together. “I'll see if we have any bacta.” 

“Bacta can't do anything about soreness,” you reminded him. Of course, as the Bad Batch's makeshift medic, he was well aware of the limitations of bacta. “Save it for the next mission.” 

Tech's head snapped toward you as your eyes widened. “The rendezvous!” 

Weak-kneed and as bare as the day he was decanted, Tech sprinted for the front of the Havoc Marauder. 

You braced against the shift of liftoff, then started gathering his clothing and a washcloth for him. Hunter would know what had happened, of course, but there was no need to be blatant.

---

Author's Note -

I can't remember if this is a first for me, but it's definitely in character for me as a person: I referenced an actual paper posted in 2016 to get Tech's information about the extragenital erogenous zones. I'm posting the citation below in case anyone wants to read it! I thought it was very interesting, even if you just read the abstract.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to let me know what you thought!

Younis, Ihab, et al. "Female hot spots: extragenital erogenous zones." Human Andrology, vol. 6, no. 1, Mar. 2016, pp. 20-26, www.ingentaconnect.com/content/wk/xha/2016/00000006/00000001/art00004.

[goddessalthena]

UsaMamo Week 2024 - Day 3/6 - Inspired by a Song/Coffee

Late again, and it's tough to say how late because this is technically two prompts in one. I was originally planning to write this as a song fic, but wasn't really feeling it leading up to the event week. Then last night I read @caelenath's awesome song fic and felt inspired to take another look at my outline.

This is not the whimsical lark that my other UsaMamo week pieces have been (which is why I was torn about writing it) but it's an idea that's been nagging at me for a while now. This is only the first part of three, but I thought it would be nice to post it for the event.

Title: Happier Summary: Mamoru wants a cup of coffee. Rating: T (for language) Words: 1722

“Thirty eight!”

Chiba Mamoru is not a melodramatic person. He is not given to histrionics. Flagrant displays of emotion are simply not his thing. Indeed, he is a calm, composed, and exceedingly rational human being. Life is stressful—his arguably more so than most—and he prides himself on his ability to ‘rise above’. But if this beanie-wearing, mouth-breathing barista doesn’t call his number in the next sixty seconds he might just lose it.

“Thirty nine!”

Mamoru stares down at his receipt and wills the numbers to change. Unsurprisingly, they remain the same. He can transform into a superhero in the blink of an eye, but he can’t change a number on a piece of paper. It may be the caffeine withdrawal talking but this seems…unfair. Unjust. Unacceptable. He is a reincarnated prince, the rightful heir to the planet beneath his very feet, and yet he cannot get a simple cup of coffee.

“Thirty seven!”

Are they counting fucking backwards now? He takes a breath and stuffs the receipt in his pocket so he can run a hand through his hair. He needs to calm down. He’s just tired. He’s had another rough night of precious little sleep and this is just a bad morning. That’s all. One bad morning. At the end of a bad week. At the end of a bad month. He just—

“Forty!”

He just really needs some coffee. It’ll be ready soon. So long as they serve him in the next—he checks his watch—four minutes he can still make it to the hospital before his shift starts. He thinks. He’s only just started at UoT and he’s still not used to the bus transfers. Getting to Keio was much simpler. He didn’t have to get up so early, and the coffee shop across the street was much faster. Not to mention better. He misses that coffee. He misses Keio. He misses sleeping. He misses…a lot of things.

“Forty one!”

Lucky number forty one strolls up to the counter to claim their prize. They walk away with a tall plastic cup full of frothy green liquid that looks like it was poured directly out of an infected nostril, and Mamoru can’t help but shudder when they take a long, noisy sip from the straw. Who comes to a coffee shop and orders…whatever that is? This is apparently a trend now—ordering non-caffeinated beverages at coffee shops—because the last ten people who have walked away from the counter have had similarly ridiculous drinks. Why does everything have to be dessert, or snot, in a cup nowadays? What’s wrong with a regular cup of coffee?

He needs to find another coffee shop.

“Forty two!”

He needs them to call his number.

He pulls out his phone to distract himself and scrolls through a list of notifications: weather, junk mail, update reminders—up to forty five now, he’s got to get around to doing that—and one text. His thumb hovers over the blue bubble for a moment or two before he eventually presses down.

Training session Fri or Sat ppl. LMK work schedules ASAP. No ghosting Chiba. Ur old ass is getting rusty. 👴

As Mamoru rolls his eyes three little dots appear at the bottom of the screen. He holds his breath.

“Forty three!”

He doesn’t look away from those three little dots, doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe. He just watches them, transfixed, until finally—

I’ve got a shift at the restaurant Friday night, but I can do AM Sat wide open

He releases the breath he’s been holding in a quiet sigh. Just Makoto. Not— His thumb hits the back button of its own accord then scrolls down through the list of chats, until…there, near the bottom. Sandwiched between an old banking verification and a number he doesn’t even recognize. He reads the date to the right of the name and winces. Again, his thumb hovers.

“Forty four!”

He taps. A string of texts populate his screen. He doesn’t need to read them again, he knows them by heart. But he reads them anyway. Like he always does. He can’t help it. He’s weak; in these moments at least. When no one can see. He should stop looking now. Should close the window. Should delete the whole thread while he’s at it. But he won’t. He can’t. He can do a lot of things—has done a lot of things—but he can’t delete those words.

I love you, Mamo-chan.

“Forty five!”

I’ll always love you. Even if you’ve stopped loving me back.

“Forty five!”

I wish I knew why though. I wish you would tell me what I did wrong.

“Forty five! That’s four five, people. Four five!”

I’m sorry, I get it now, I won’t bother you anymore. Be happy, Mamo-chan. I want you to be happy.

“For the last time, forty five! Going once, going twice…”

Mamoru’s head snaps up. Forty five. Fuck. That’s his number.

He stuffs his phone in his pocket and rushes up to the counter and beanie-boy does not look happy. Mamoru begins to mutter an apology then stops as the barista shoves a large mug topped whipped cream, caramel, and chocolate shavings toward him. Mamoru looks from the mug to the mouth-breather and back again as his brain tries to comprehend what is happening. After an eternity of waiting they finally called his number and yet…this is not his drink.

The barista is staring at him with a bored, somewhat vacant expression and Mamoru can clearly see that he is wondering why Mamoru isn’t taking the mug and walking away. Apparently the barista can’t tell from Mamoru’s assumedly apoplectic expression that he has no intention of taking the mug. This mug is not his. It’s not what he ordered. It’s not what he wants. Apparently that’s just his life now. An endless string of miserable disappointments that he’s supposed to suffer through silently. But he’s fed up with being silent.

He wants his damn coffee, and he wants it right fu—

“Oh, hello, uh, hey, sorry, excuse me but…I think that’s mine actually.”

Mamoru blinks as a cheerful man with sandy blond hair steps up beside him. He points to the confectionery concoction on the counter and shoots Mamoru an apologetic smile before turning to the barista. “Yes, chocolate macchiato with caramel, right? I believe that’s mine and not this gentleman’s.”

Beanie boy looks from Mamoru to sandy-hair and blinks.

Sandy-hair glances at Mamoru and shoots him another overly apologetic look. “Right, umm, well, if it’s all right, I’ll just grab this and get out of your way.” Mamoru steps to the side and sandy-hair takes the mug and hurries away. Presumably to overdose on sugar.

Mamoru turns back to the barista.

Barista scratches his temple. The beanie must be itchy. Mamoru hopes it is.

“So…what was your order again?”

“Large. Black. Coffee.”

“Right. That’ll take a couple of min—” Beanie boy must have just learned to read facial expressions because his eyes widen and he takes a step back. “I’ll go get it now.”

Mamoru feels a little bit of the tension ease in his shoulders and he breathes a weary sigh. He’s being an asshole. He’s doing that more and more often now. He keeps telling himself it’s the long work hours and the lack of sleep, but he knows what the real problem is. It’s her. He misses her. But there’s nothing he can do about that so he needs to find a better way to cope than being rude to baristas. And co-workers. And neighbours in his apartment building.

The barista comes back with his to-go cup and Mamoru tries to smile and thanks him for the drink. The guy nods but appears otherwise unaffected and that’s fine. Mamoru’s not looking for a new friend, he’s just trying to be a decent human being. A tinkle of bells sounds as he reaches for his cup. A gust of air follows, and a familiar tingle between his shoulder blades compels him to turn. He follows the innate instinct before his mind can warn him against it.

The unmistakable sight of blond odangos makes his heart soar before the inevitable sensation of crushing gloom comes down hard upon his ribs. Just when he thought his morning couldn’t get any worse. He can’t handle this. Not right now. Not again. He’s not strong enough to face another awkward meeting, another painful interaction, another agonizing opportunity to break her heart. Why are they always bumping into each other? Why, in a city as big as this, can he not get through one single week without running into her? Why?

Mamoru knows why. Because they’re soul mates.

He looks around for an alternate exit, a side door, a window, anything so he can avoid being seen. Before he can consider hiding in the bathroom he realizes she’s not approaching the counter where he stands, she’s rushing over to a table. She’s out of breath, her cheeks are pink, and she’s spouting a string of apologies. He’s seen her look exactly like this countless times before, and he can’t help the smile that spreads across his face as the memories replay.

His smile disappears as a new memory implants itself in his mind.

Of Usako, rushing up to a table where a man with sandy blond hair is standing in wait. Where a man with sandy blond hair is taking her hands. Where a man with sandy blond hair is pulling her forward. Kissing her cheek. Making her blush.

“Don’t worry,” sandy-hair says, “your timing is perfect. Your drink just came out. I wasn’t sure if you wanted a muffin, a danish, or a doughnut, so I got one of each.”

Usako laughs with delight.

Usako laughs with delight.

Usako laughs with delight.

Mamoru heads for the door like the building is on fire. He doesn’t hear the barista calling after him, telling him that he’s forgotten his coffee. He doesn’t hear the tinkling of bells as he shoves through the door or the loud rush of traffic as he hits the sidewalk. All he can hear is Usako’s laughter play over and over in his head.

When was the last time he heard her laugh? When?

Mamoru doesn't know when. He can’t remember.

***

Ain’t nobody hurt you like I hurt you But ain’t nobody love you like I do Promise that I will not take it personal, baby If you’re moving on with someone new

***

Happy Birthday, Mamoru! Sorry bud, this is a breakup fic. What can I say? I both love and hate the breakup arc. The song that inspired this fic is Happier by Ed Sheeran.

Thanks for reading! ❤️

Be sure to follow @usamamoweek for all of this year's content!

Many thanks to our awesome hosts @random-mailbox and @lilliebellfanfics for making this possible. 😘😘

[aestheticitii]

"marry me."

"did you think i'd marry you without a ring?" kiran teases. [alfonse/kiran]

content tags: pure sickening fluff and a proposal lol

notes: was in the mood for something short and fluffy as a break from all the longer oneshots i keep trying to write

alfonse looks up from the open notebook on kiran's lap at the woman herself, drawing his knees closer to his chest.

her smile, bright and cheerful, when she asks his opinion and the way she animatedly dissects the dresses she and his sister were looking over this morning for the annual wedding brawl festival—the same one commander anna attempted to win in order to sell its winning prize the first year—makes it easy for his mind to start wandering to thoughts he shouldn't be vocalizing.

and to that the fact that he hasn't seen her in a while, because of the duties that keep piling up on both their plates, and what happens next is no surprise.

the thoughts—all following a similar line of reasoning about how desperately he wants to go back to when they were younger and he could monopolize her time at odd times without much trouble, without fear of scandal or leftover paperwork—condense into only two words, which slip out of his mouth by accident. and they come out as a soft whisper that his lover would ordinarily overlook in the midst of her cute babbling, though lady luck does not side with him today.

dark brown eyes, once fixated on the rough sketches of various wedding dresses, lock onto his blue ones. their (beautiful) owner tucks a strand of similarly-colored hair behind her ears, leaving her hand there, and smiles something that can barely be called a smile—a twitch of her lips that seems to be at odds with the embarrassment and concern that makes her eyes shine.

"did you say something?" she asks, allowing her hand to slip out of her long hair. it comes to rest neatly on her lap, rather than the page it once rested on. "i didn't catch that."

in the midst of battling his own concern—well aware what a momentous occasion it is that the woman who spent her teen years pretending she didn't want to marry anyone is entrusting him with actual, tangible thoughts about her dream wedding, beyond who the groom will be and how his sister is definitely going to cry—the words stupidly slip out of his lips once more.

"marry me."

the corner of the page she was in the middle of turning slips between her fingers, and the page falls back into place. surprise makes her lips part and her eyes widen—makes her drag her other hand onto her lap too and clasp the two together as she looks down.

if you want to.

his short-circuiting brain lacks the means to differentiate between a thought and something spoken out loud at first—and when it calms down, recognizing what happened, his throat lacks the means to free the words caught there.

but then she looks up and her expression changes.

narrowed eyes and a soft smile; that alone is enough to relax the weight bearing down on his shoulder.

"i can't do that," she says, closing her book.

the weight comes back, in the different form, as a heavy stone in his stomach, even as the more rational part of him understands that her words are only a set up for some punchline—probably about how they've been lovers for only a few months. though in his defense, he's been in love with her for years now.

his gloved hand grasps onto the mess on the bed that is her beloved blanket and pulls it closer to him, as though it'll bring him some measure of comfort.

his blue eyes don't leave her form for a single moment.

she swings her legs to the right, scooting closer to him. her hand comes to rest on his cheek and for a moment, when he sees her loving expression, he forgets everything.

which explains why, only a second later, he feels so betrayed when she pinches his cheek hard.

"did you think i'd marry you without a ring?" kiran teases. she's laughing as she presses a kiss to his cheek, in the exact spot where she pinched it. "it's like you're expecting me to do all the work."

alfonse performs his part admirably, rubbing his cheek once to start an attempt to let her know how deeply her betrayal cut. when it comes time to pout and glare, his lips mistake the order for a smile, and his eyes, for a loving gaze.

he exhales through his nose, rolling his eyes fondly at the (very beautiful) woman smiling brightly at him.

"but you'll marry me if i give you the ring, right?" he asks, as if he doesn't already know the answer from the way she takes his hand in hers.

she laughs, in a way that, despite his reading habits, he can only describe as prettily.

"of course, that part was never in question," kiran tells him, punctuating the end of her sentence by resting her head on his shoulder. "so make sure you find one soon, 'kay?"

[cosmicswritings]

Saw your thing for writing requests, please just ignore if that's off the table!

Starscream or OP in any universe gets the other to genuinely laugh.

Okay, I think I have the perfect post war idea for that. I’m going to do TFP (it was hard to find which universe but oh well). Actually, you’re lucky because I’m going to also make and IDW version of this prompt because an idea LITERALLY just popped into my head. I’ll tag you in both <3. 

Also this fic was so fun to do thank you so much!!

__

Eventually, Starscream knew he’d have to contact Cybertron to let them know that their prized pet had gotten loose. 

Most people thought that Optimus had perished when he’d jumped into the Well of Sparks, and in his own exile so did Starscream. He wasn’t too upset at that at all actually, in fact, that was the one thing he could celebrate while on the run from the predacons and the rest of Cybertron in general.

Yet, Prima worked in many ways because living in his humble cave on an energon-filled, yet desolate planet systems away from Cybertron, he did not expect a confused, clueless and very much alive Optimus Prime to find him.

That had happened a month or so ago, and Starscream could not shake him off. Optimus - or Orion - was clearly lost. Starscream had thought to kill him at first, or even send him to bounty hunters for some energon rations or something but…little by little, he had a change of spark. He didn’t know what it was about clueless Optimus that made him less prone to violence or at least want to change his ways.

Truth be told, that answer was simple. Starscream was lonely, and he’d lost everything.

Everywhere he went, people looked upon him with disgust and hatred. Not that he didn’t deserve some of it, but it hurt. Especially when he had, during the conclusion of the war attempted to change and defect from the Decepticon cause. No one believed him, and the Autobots had treated him poorly because of it.

That said, as clueless as Orion Pax (or Optimus) was, he didn’t look at Starscream like he was a monster.

He looked at him like he was a savior and perhaps, one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. And that is why Starscream could not bring himself to harm him. He knew eventually Optimus’s memories would return, or that someone would come for him, but until then, he could indulge in the new friend he’d made. 

Presently, Starscream found himself sitting against one of the trees outside of their cave. Truth be told, they did not spend that much time in their cave; it was where Starscream hid. However, given they were the only ones on the planet, being outside suited Starscream more. He was used to living in the woods like this, being beneath the trees and in nature. During his self banishment, he’d found himself there before and it was a comforting setting to him.

There was a datapad in his hand, a book downloaded from an Earthling database. As much as he hated to admit it, Starscream loved Earth books and stories. 

In the distance there were heavy footsteps heard growing closer and closer. Starscream retained his calm demeanor, as he already knew who the mech was approaching him.  

“Starscream,” The voice was soft, yet filled with excitement and curiosity. “I know it’s going to be another cold night, so I found some firewood. I can regulate heat much easier than you can…you on the other hand…”

He stepped in front of Starscream, who was still leaned against the tree. He hadn’t faced him yet.

“Or, you can just sit next to me and warm me. You are a big, loveable hunk of metal, we don’t need fire to stay–”

At that moment, Optimus had fully made it in front Starscream, still holding large tree trunks in his arms. Starscream’s optics made contact with Orion’s yet, his vocalizer paused as he attempted to speak. A breathless noise came from the depths of his audio system that eventually, burst into laughter. 

Orion tilted his head in confusion.

“Is something funny, Starscream?” He asked quietly. 

“You–your head–our audials!” Starscream stood and practically ran over to him. “Were you rolling in a meadow?” Somehow, some way, when searching for fire wood, Optimus had accumulated a rather large amount of flowers upon his head. He was more than likely pushing through some trees as he did so, and did not even realize that he had grown a sort of crown of flowers. 

Orion smiled rather bashfully and inclined slightly as Starscream approached him, messing with the makeshift flower crown on his head. “You are many things Orion Pax, but you manage to get more an every day.” He still chuckled as he spoke. Never in his millions of years did he expect to see Optimus Prime with flowers on his head. Somehow though, it seemed fitting. 

“Cute, is that a human term?” Optimus asked, confused.

Starscream chuckled. “Yes…yes it is. Ahh there, now you look better.”

Optimus smiled, dropping the pile of fire wood and taking just a flower or two from his audials and somehow placing them upon Starscream’s head, fashioning them tightly.

“Now Starscream, we both look ‘cute’.” Orion said, gaining more confidence.

Starscream smiled, feeling that familiar rush of energon flush his facial chasms. He hated to admit that after all this time, he started to grow feelings for Orion Pax. Well, maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.

__

Hope you enjoyed and as always, requests are open! I loved writing this!!

[fallenasleepyetagain]

In My Care - Nightmare/Blue fic

Media: Undertale AUs/UTMV

Genres: Romance, hurt/comfort, betrayal, whump (technically?), human AU

Characters: King Nightmare, Blue, Dream, Cross, Horror, Ink (mentioned)

Pairing: Nightmare/Blue

CW/TW: Betrayal, broken bones, bones in general, violence mention

Word Count: 2616

"H..huh wha...I don't- What…What’s going on?" Blue slurred, his vision blurry as he looked up at Dream's face. He must've been in pain, but he couldn't feel it. Not yet.

The ground was cold, a striking contrast to Dream's warm hands that were placed on his face. Dream was stroking his head and saying something, but the ringing in his ears made it impossible to focus.

Whenever he tried to speak, Dream would put a finger to his mouth. Shushing him.

"Drea-Dream I don't- Please-"

"Shhh." Blue heard him, finally. His eyes lit up slightly, and his brain got less foggy. "God, shit, ok, good, you're with me now. Hey, hey..."

Dream kept his head up as he regained his energy, the guardian's hands running through his curly hair.

"It's going to be ok. You're going to be ok, I got you."

"What happened...?” His head was thrumming and pain began to creep up from his bottom half.

"We were fighting Nightmare plus his gang and some debris fell on you. It got you good, and knocked you out, but you're ok now."

Blue attempted to pull himself forward but he stopped just as quickly as he started. Pain shot through him, and he cried out, holding onto Dream as he was cradled.

"No no! Don't move. Your legs appear to be fine but the debris above you seems to be keeping your waist pinned down."

"Can-Can you help me?" Blue took a deep breath, his eyes slammed shut due to the hammering in his chest and the return of the ringing in his ears.

Dream stopped touching him to stand up. Averting his eyes.

"Dream? Can you...are you...?"

"Don't worry ok? I'll come for you, just be patient. Don't give up hope. This is all part of the plan."

"P-Plan? What plan? Please I…I don't understand."

Dream just shook his head. His eyes glanced up and he sighed, kneeling down and stroking Blue's cheek one more time.

"Nightmare is coming. He will take you with him."

"WHAT?!"

"SHHH!" Dream slammed his hand over Blue's mouth, "I know, I know ok?! I know that this seems terrible, but listen. It's...a necessary evil. Ink and I will come get you, ok? I promise. He won't even have the chance to hurt you."

The warmth of Dream's hands abandoned him as Blue's head was dropped. He lay on the cold ground, mind and heart whirling. Had Dream just...left him? To become Nightmare's captive?

He could barely believe it. He couldn't believe it at all! There had to be some rational explanation, some sort of reasoning behind Dream leaving him!

Something heavy pushed against the debris above him and he cried out before slamming his hands over his mouth.

Nightmare was right above him. Crushing him from above. He prayed to whatever god was up there that Nightmare would just leave him alone and Dream would come back, and everything could be normal and make sense.

"Well well well, what do we have here?" Nightmare's voice spoke from above him, cruelty dripping from every word. "A prize waiting to be claimed."

Shit!

A groan of pain rang out as Nightmare stepped down from the debris. The shifting of weight caused whatever was on top of Blue to be pushed into the ground, into his legs, even further.

Tears were forced from his eyes as he blinked. Pain shot through him like a barrage of bullets. Blue grit his teeth and avoided looking at Nightmare, eyes squeezed shut.

This proved to be worthless however, since Nightmare bent down and gently slipped his hand under Blue's chin. Nightmare was colder than Dream, and his hands were more forceful. Grabbing at his skin to make sure he didn't break free. Though, Blue preferred it to the cold ground.

"Aren't you just adorable?" Nightmare cooed, squeezing his cheeks. He whimpered as Nightmare did so, his body beginning to ache again. "I can't believe Dream just left you here. That was quite stupid of him.”

Nightmare leaned down closer, his lips nearly touching Blue's ear. "How does that make you feel, hm? Being abandoned by your only friend."

Blue hung his head down, and Nightmare clicked his tongue disapprovingly. He stood up and snapped his fingers, almost like he was calling a dog, "CROSS! HORROR! Here, now!"

It only took a few seconds for the biggest men in Nightmare's gang to get there. Horror and Cross looked down at him, concern and pity forming on their faces.

"Oh shit?! What happened to-" Cross tried to say.

"Lift the debris." Nightmare commanded, interrupting Cross's words.

The two got to work immediately. Blue inhaled deeply as the large debris was lifted. It was as if a mountain was lifted off of him, and he staggered to his feet.

Despite his own weight being significantly less than the large piece of cement on him, his legs began to scream. To burn. It shot up through his body, through his bones. Even his artificial ribs felt the stinging pain.

A cry left him as he collapsed to the hard ground once more, trembling.

Nightmare nudged his cheek with his shiny, black shoe. "Hm."

Cross attempted to go over, to help, to do something, anything! But Nightmare held up a hand. Slowly, he bent down and shifted Blue so he was on his back. With oddly precise movements, Nightmare poked and prodded at his legs, making careful notes on Blue's reactions.

"Careful," Nightmare spoke as Blue gripped onto his sleeve. "This suit is worth more than whatever hovel you, Dream, and Ink live in. If you ruin it, I assure you that you will be in debt for the rest of your mortal life."

The city was quiet at that point, with Horror wrangling up the other two members of Nightmare's gang. Blue's ragged breaths echoed along the street, as well as his his grunts of pain whenever Nightmare touched something that was especially tender.

"Cross, come." Cross stepped forward, being only a foot away from Blue.

"Shift to your left." Cross did as he was told. "Good. Don't move."

It took Cross a second to realize that Nightmare was using him as a shield from the sun. He scowled, but didn't move. At least he was being helpful.

"I fear you've got a break in your left ankle, my dear." Nightmare spoke softly, effortlessly lifting Blue up into his arms. Blue didn't struggle, going limp as Nightmare carried him off.

The adrenaline coursing through him had begun to wane, and the pain in his ankle, his legs, only got worse. He wanted out of Nightmare's arms, away from Nightmare entirely, and back to the safety of Dream's warm embrace, but he couldn't bring himself to fight. Not when he was in such agony.

Tears slipped from his eyes as he squeezed them shut, blocking out the sun and getting some dust out of his eyes. Nightmare's hand gently shifted to Blue's face, and with the flick of his finger, a tear was promptly removed from his face.

"Brace yourself." Nightmare spoke. Blue flinched as the squelching sound of Nightmare's tentacles being summoned entered his dining eardrums. He held his breath and tensed his body, preparing for the sudden change in environment.

How Dream, Error, Ink, or anyone else for that matter, hopped from universe to universe without issue was beyond him. It really wasn't fair. Universe jumping always shook his body, and he needed a minute or so to adjust.

The humidity was the first thing he noticed. It was staggering, how dry the city was compared to the outside of Nightmare's castle. He felt his clothes stick to his skin, and he grimaced at the feeling.

Mercy was shown to him though, as Nightmare entered the castle. Despite it being visibly old and weathered, it had decent cooling. Apparently the heating in the winter wasn't too great, according to Cross, but that was irrelevant considering it was the springtime.

Blue braced himself for the freezing dungeon and harsh conditions that he was often put in when he was kidnapped. Nightmare smirked at his astonishment when he was taken in the exact opposite direction of said dungeon.

Nightmare went up a large set of spiraled stairs with ease, taking caution to not let Blue's head or broken ankle hit the walls. The hallway was like every other: gothic and dark.

It was jarring to see what the medical area in the castle looked like. The big, wooden, medieval-style door opened up into a pristine and modern medical room. It looked like a studio apartment, but with medical supplies instead of furniture.

When they entered the room, Nightmare gently set Blue down on the bed. It was surprisingly comfortable for a hospital bed, and the coolness of it felt nice against his throbbing legs. Blue had been to his fair share of hospitals in his lifetime, and he had to begrudgingly admit that this was the most comfortable.

As he laid down on top of the white sheets, he kept his eyes on Nightmare as he walked a few paces away at the counter. The room was silent as Nightmare opened up the upper cabinets with his hands, his tentacles opening the ones closer to the ground.

"What are you doing?"

The two tentacles protruding from his back hovered by his shoulders, holding what seemed to be gauze and a pill bottle of some kind. Blue couldn't see what was in his hands from his current angle.

"I can't put a cast on your leg immediately, especially without a proper x-Ray scan. However, I do know the general idea of where your break is, so I can stop the swelling."

"...What?"

"Hm?" Nightmare turned around, small pillows in his arms. Blue looked at Nightmare in confusion as he came over, lifting up Blue's leg and placing it on the pillows to keep it elevated.

As Nightmare began to wrap his ankle and foot up tight with the gauze, Blue spoke, a bit baffled. "Why aren't you using magic?"

Nightmare looked just as confused as he finished up wrapping Blue's leg. "You and I both know that messing with bones and magic is dangerous. Healing muscle, fat, or skin is easy."

"I know that! It's just…um.”

"He heals your bones with magic, doesn't he?" Nightmare asked, standing next to Blue with his arms folded behind his back. Theo he was taking about was obvious. "That doesn't surprise me. Healing bones with magic never works properly, we both know it leaves your bones...malleable.

"Dream, on the other hand, has never really understood how...fragile you mortals can be."

Blue grit his teeth, "I'm not fragile, thank you very much."

"Aw." Nightmare purred, clicking his tongue as he ran a finger down his face. "It’s adorable that you think that."

Before Blue could protest further, Nightmare put a finger to his lips.

"Shh. We could do this all day, and as much as I'd like to do that, we need to move on." Nightmare smiled, oddly sweet, as he shifted his hand away from Blue's face and back behind him. Blue nodded, keeping quiet.

"Good. Now, you will be in my care until you can walk without pain. And, since I know you, how your magic works, I suspect you'll be here for a month or so."

"A month?!" Blue sputtered, sitting up while keeping his leg elevated. "Are you out of your mind?! Y-You can't just- Dream will come for me!"

"Why are you treating this like a kidnapping? I do believe that Dream won't be coming for you, considering the circumstances that got you here."

Rubbing salt in the wound is what Nightmare excelled at.

Using his thumb, Nightmare wiped the tear that fell down Blue's cheek. Much to his surprise, Blue didn't pull away or push him away.

It was subtle, but Blue leaned into his touch, just a little.

"You're tense." Nightmare said, taking his hand away and tucking it back behind his back. "You have no need to be. You are in my care. Harming you would be counteractive to my goal."

"Which is?"

Nightmare clicked his tongue, amused. "Cleaning up Dream's mess, of course."

This, as Nightmare intended, got a small snort out of Blue.

Before another word was said, Blue yawned. Nightmare wasn't surprised, considering the amount of adrenaline that had been pumping through his veins during the battle, as well as his body trying to put itself back together.

It was around eight-thirty in the evening, which, for mortals, wasn't an unreasonable time to fall asleep. A bit early, perhaps, but since he'd be healing, the more sleep the better.

"Hold on."

Carefully, Nightmare lifted Blue with his tentacles. He made sure to support Blue's head and back, as well as keeping the broken leg elevated. He pulled down the sheet, and then set Blue back down, allowing him to get comfortable underneath it.

"There."

"Can I have a blanket?"

Straight to the point. Nightmare found that admirable about him.

"Of course."

There were warm blankets in the storage area of the medical wing, and it took only a moment for him to drape one over Blue's body. Blue nuzzled into it, pulling it up as he stayed on his back.

"Comfortable?"

"Mhm."

"Good." Nightmare stroked Blue's hair, fingers combing through his brown curls. He pulled away from Blue, sauntering over to the door. "I'll leave you to rest then, I'll be-"

"Wait."

"Hm?"

"Don't leave." It was a soft, gentle plea. Blue's hand dropped from the bed, reaching for him. "Please."

There was work to be done, there always was. Nightmare hesitated at the door, hand hovering by the knob. But Blue looked so sad, so pathetic...he couldn't just leave him alone.

"Just this once."

"Thank you."

Using a tentacle and portals, he grabbed the book that he was currently reading from his bedside table. He sat down on the armchair next to the bed, crossing one leg over the other as he opened the book.

"...Can I ask you for something silly?"

Nightmare's lips curled into an amused smile, "Of course."

"Can you read it to me?"

"What, my book?"

"Yeah...sorry."

"Don't apologize. I wouldn't mind that at all, as long as you don't mind starting in the middle."

"Nope..." Blue sunk into the bed, his face buried into his scarf as he closed his eyes.

It took Nightmare a second before he began to read aloud. He would have to reread this section later, as he was not paying attention. His mind was stuck on his kidnappee next to him.

If Dream didn't come to get him, Nightmare might just keep him himself. Dream wouldn't know what he was missing until it was gone.

Nightmare liked the idea of that. He'd get sweet revenge against Dream as well as a sweet man in the palm of his hand.

It didn't take long for exhaustion to catch up with him, and he was passed out within minutes. He shut the light off with a tentacle, the only source now being the setting sun shining in through the windows. Blue looked stunning in the light, the way the sun danced against his brown curls and face was something he hasn't noticed before.

No wonder Dream liked to keep him by his side.

A smile, one more sinister than the ones he had given Blue, creeped upon his face. He believed that Blue would look just as, if not better, at his side than Dream’s.

With a final touch of his cheek, Nightmare left the room.

[thegemthatreads]

Alakai ‘Kai’ Novalar - Half-Elf Warlock Bhaalspawn

What is your Tav’s…

Favourite weapon: Bloodthirst Dagger. He loves to get all up and personal with his victims so they can see the bloodlust in his eyes.

Most prized possession: A little trinket Klarity made for him when they were younger. It was one of the very first things she made and tried to make a crescent moon out of vines. He carries it in his pocket wherever he goes and when he needs to calm down or needs a little’ luck push', he holds onto it.

Deepest desire: He doesn’t remember his past. Only that he had to look out for his little sister when they were younger, but after that, everything was a blur. So his deepest desire would be to create more memories, good or bad since he can never see the line between the two, especially with his family he found with Klarity.

Guilty pleasure: He loves to make people around him flustered. It could just be a stare or using what he’s learned against said person. He loves to watch them squirm and get red in the face, not able to say a sentence without stuttering.

Greatest strength: As cheesy as it sounds. His sister. She gave him the courage and the strength to be who he is today. Though most people see being a Bhaalspawn as a curse, his sister inspired him to use it to their advantage and use it for….mostly good purposes while still having fun with it. She may be the more calm and collected one and people friendly but when it comes to combat and strategizing, she’s more experienced compared to Alakai which inspires him to be more. She is the reason he gathered the strength to stay alive and keep fighting.

Greatest weakness: If Klarity or his partner is hurt or in trouble. He’s a mess. He can’t focus on anything but their safety. It would always cause him to get gravely injured. He either gets really scared/worried or so angry, all he sees is red and won’t stop till he gets to them, even if it means his life is in danger.

Fatal flaw: His rage can make him not think rationally. He would black out and wake up the next day with no recollection of what happened.

Favourite smell: The type of atmosphere smell when you’re by the lake. The fresh air with the fresh water smell, calms him and would always make him want to sit by the lake, basking in the moonlight (He prefers night to day)

Favourite spell or cantrip: Eldritch Blast (Especially when it throws the enemy back…preferably over a cliff)

Pet peeve: Gale keeps absorbing his favourite artefacts or little trinkets he thought a friend or his sister would like. (Normally when Alakai finds out Gale absorbed it, he ties Gale up like a hog in his tent as ‘punishment’ and leaves them there to think about what he’s done.)

Bad habit: He tends to have a snarl-like expression on his face 24/7. He was never a people person so it always made him unapproachable. It’s a habit he tries to break but always fails miserably at.

Hidden talent: He plays the Lute and he can juggle. (He had to entertain his little sister somehow growing up)

Leisure activity: Sitting by the river at night, watching the scene in front of him. Sometimes he likes to take naps with his back against the tree. Scratch and Owlie (He named the owlbear Owlie but refuses to tell anyone) curled up on either side. If he can’t sleep, he’ll hum to himself a tune he’d hear on the day.

Favourite drink: Mermaid Whiskey. It’s a bonus since he’s a sucker for bottle designs too.

Comfort food: Poutine. Potato, cheese and gravy all in one? Sign him UP!

Favourite person(s): He saw Shadowheart more as a sister as they travelled together. Although he should have disapproved of it, he was proud of her when she would try to threaten La’zael but would only smirk since he kinda liked the idea of the two together. Shadowheart was one of the very few people that would see the ‘teasing’ side of Alakai. Everytime there was tension between La’zael and her, when they would set up camp, he’d walk past her tent while making lewd gestures while pointing to La’zael and Shadowheart, causing her to chase him until he’d fall in the lake. They had a brother and sister bond that she didn’t wanna trade for anything.

La’zael he cherished so much. She was all about fighting and spilling blood which he LOVED. They bonded over the fact they wanted to constantly spill enemies blood. They both aren’t very familiar with having friends but he would die for her and would hope she’d do the same for him but would also respect her even more if she didn’t.

Astarion…well…Alakai thought he was a dick at first. Although when they first met, he didn’t like the fact at how much Astarion pulling a dagger on him, excited him. So in a panic he’d twist around, decking Astarion in the nose before scrambling to get up. That day was when their relationship blossomed. Astarion would always flirt with him or Klarity for some sort of protection which of course would urk Alakai the most. When they all found out that Astarion was a vampire, he made Astarion promise that he would drink from him only and not to touch his sister. They would always joke around and actually enjoy each other's company as time went by. Alakai didn’t want to admit it but he started to fall for the Pale Elf and wouldn’t do anything about it and would continue to continue the bond they built since he was convinced Astarion needed a friend more than any form of intimacy.

Karlach was a puppy in Alakai’s eyes. He wanted to make sure she’d get the escape and happiness she wanted and would bend his back backwards for the Tiefling. Although she had the strength and courage to look after herself and such, that didn’t stop him from wanting to keep her safe. The same with all of his friends.

Favoured display of affection: If he really cared for the person, forehead kisses or a faint smile. He wasn’t always one for affection and when he’d be worried about an upcoming battle, he’d give the people he really cared about an encouraging smile or a forehead kiss, depending on the person. If it was someone he is involved with, an arm around their waist while kissing the side of their head or resting his forehead against theirs.

Fondest childhood memory: He doesn’t remember much but only the laughter and fun he shared with his sister.

Is there anything else you'd like to share? (feel free to include art or a screenshot of your Tav if available!)

When they finished facing Cazador, after Astarion decided not to ascend and let off all his feelings. Alakai crouched down, his head bowed so Astarion could have his moment of relief. Later that night in camp, Alakai went to check up on him and when he could see the pain in Astarion’s eyes, he gave a look to Astarion, asking for permission to hug him and when he is given permission, he pulls Astarion into a hug, resting his face in the crook of Astarions neck before moving his head to give a faint kiss on Astarions forehead and gives a faint smile to him. “I’m happy you’re finally your own person, if you ever need a night hunting person, I’m always available.”

Later that night, Shadowheart goes to Alakai’s tent as he’s reading a book he found. Shadowheart kneels beside him and has a knowing smirk on her face, Alakai already sensing what is about to happen, he closes his book and exhales through his nose. Shadowheart then reenacts Alakai’s words that were said to Astarion, causing Alakai to growl and throw his book at Shadowheart that runs out of his tent laughing.

Also fun fact, Alakai doesn’t like to show his soft side often but when he does, he gets so lovey dovey towards Scratch and ‘Owlie’, fawning over them and giving them plenty of treats while everyone watches, shocked that Alakai even had that side of him (considering they only saw the anger looking, murderous side of him). He even allows them to sleep in his tent which leads to them curling up to his side.

[the-meat-machine]

Would you mind if I asked you for advice on Caliborn for a fic I'm working on? I love the little guy to death, but I'm currently struggling with my self-indulgent urges to put him in a less dominant role than he'd EVER accept in canon (if only because I'm a sucker for dominant characters being put in a submissive position, and Caliborn is simultaneously the ultimate candidate for that and the hardest to pull off).

How do you think he would react to a situation that makes him feel weak and puts him in a more submissive role, but that he enjoys enough to continue through with it in spite of that, or /maybe/ even because of it? It's difficult for me to even comprehend Caliborn not being totally dominant and still being in character, and I consider you an expert on the matter, which is why I ask.

Thank you in advance, if you choose to answer!

I think there are ways to make this work.

In general, Caliborn is not prone to self-reflection. He's a creature of pure id. He takes what he wants without ever bothering to consider why he wants it. Usually this works out fine for him, since most of the things he wants (to fuck shit up, hurt people, and generally cause mayhem) fit in with his self-image as a badass manly dude who doesn't give a shit about anyone.

The problem for him comes when he likes something that, on the surface, doesn't seem to fit in with his self-image. But even then, he doesn't tend to deny himself the things that he wants. Instead, he comes up with some batshit justification that makes it fit his self-image. Because he's the biggest badass and so by definition he must like everything for badass, manly reasons… right? An obvious example: I'm of the opinion that Caliborn's fascination with "tenderness" is way more genuine than he will ever admit. And then there's the absurd way he manages to justify his interest in "the yaois".

So. In this specific situation, I can see a world where submission is something that Caliborn enjoys. Maybe he gets a weird thrill out of being overpowered, out of feeling like he's in genuine danger, since those aren't things that happen to him much. (You could even argue that there's a basis for this in canon, in that he tries to build up Jake and Dave into heroes who can defeat him.) You just need to figure out a way for Caliborn's brain to rationalize it in the most ass-backwards, self-aggrandizing way possible.

If he can manage to convince himself that the whole thing is his idea (whether that's true or not) and that any perceived "weakness" on his part is just some filthy perverse roleplay where he's just ironically pretending to be weak when actually he's the strongest and best (again, whether that's true or not), it might work out.

Maybe he'll be willing to obey orders as part of a "game" if the prize for winning is good enough or the punishment for losing is bad enough. Or if what's happening is a surprise to him but he finds himself wanting to keep going anyway, maybe he can tell himself that he's actually "tricking" the other person into doing what he wants. Or maybe he can find a way to construe it as them acting out some sort of tender romantic scenario that he can pretend was his plan all along. Things like that. Ways that he can give up control while telling himself that he's not really giving up control.

(Or maybe the first time he gets beaten up it awakens something in him, and from then on he keeps subconsciously steering the timeline in directions that require him to get his ass handed to him at regular intervals. You know, just coincidentally. It's not like he likes getting pinned down under strong, muscular bodies, it just has to happen to ensure his dominance in the end. No getting around it. I doubt this is applicable to your scenario, but I thought of it and wanted to share because I kind of love the idea now.)

[sepdet]

Also? Faramir faced the Witch-King. He knows better than anyone what foe she defeated. The best he could do against the Nazgûl was rescue his troops from a rout. Which was still more than anyone else had managed.

He and Éowyn shared somewhat similar ordeals of the heart: eclipsed by brothers held in greater regard (by themselves as much as anyone, perhaps more), watching father-figures falling to despair.

Faramir was sent into battle unthanked by a father comparing him to his brother, and was ready to throw his life away. Éowyn snuck into battle after being told to stay behind, and she, too, was almost suicidal.

There is a great deal in Tolkien's writing about hope and faith, a fool's hope and rational despair. Elrond gave Aragorn the name "Hope" in Elvish, Estel, a word that also means trust and faith. Aragorn's mother dies saying, "I gave Estel to the Edain, I kept none for myself."

Sam exhibits estel when he keeps going in Mordor even after Frodo has lost it, when it looks like they'll run out of water and food crossing the blasted plain to the volcano. Denethor lambasts Gandalf for a "fool's hope," and Aragorn tells the Captains of the west that they've reached a point where "hope snd despair are akin."

There's another Elvish word for hope, Amdír, hope based on extrapolation, expectation, which fails when rational hope is exhausted. Sauron's great at chipping away at it (so is Saruman, sending Wormtongue to poison Théoden's morale, nearly destroying Éowyn's too). Denethor uses the Palantir to gather intelligence, so Sauron makes sure he sees only things to make his situation look hopeless, like the Black Fleet coming up the river, or (perhaps) items stripped off Frodo. So Denethor gives up.

Éowyn and Faramir nearly do, which is why the Black Breath nearly kills them, whereas Merry recovers more easily.

Butv when Faramir recognizes who and what Aragorn is, he regains hope. He doesn't know if it will be enough to prevail, but he has faith again.

That's what Gondor— and Faramir— need to be healed in spirit, but it's not what Éowyn needs. As OP notes, she needs (and deserves!) recognition of her deeds and valour, which is what kudos originally meant, and what heroic warriors sought and prized above rewards, pay or material goods: reputation they had won was everything.

Faramir, who has come through a similar ordeal of despair, recognizes and admires Éowyn's valour. So he's finally able to reach her, and help her find that hope again too. Éowyn's troth does not lie in Aragorn, who raised her hopes by at least respecting her, but in the possibility of a future alongside someone who sees her truly.

There are about a million reasons why I love Faramir and Éowyn’s relationship and why I think it’s one of the most romantic relationships that Tolkien wrote, but do you want to know what isn’t talked about enough?

‘Do not scorn pity that is the gift of a gentle heart, Éowyn! But I do not offer you my pity. For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten; and you are a lady beautiful, I deem, beyond even the words of the Elven-tongue to tell. And I love you. Once I pitied your sorrow. But now, were you sorrowless, without fear or any lack, were you the blissful Queen of Gondor, still I would love you. Éowyn, do you not love me?’

A lot has already been said about Faramir’s confession that he would still love her if she were the Queen of Gondor—and rightly so, because he’s basically saying he’s so hopelessly in love that nothing could ever change his feelings—but what REALLY does it for me, even more than that, is Faramir saying that she is VALIANT. He admires her bravery and her accomplishments in battle, and he says she has won RENOWN. Yes!!! YES!!!!!!!!!

Look, part of the reason Éowyn doesn’t want pity is that she doesn’t want to be looked down upon, and that’s what she associates with being pitied. But this isn’t really about another person’s pity—this is about how Éowyn sees herself. All her life, she’s been held back from participating in battle and from doing great deeds. In her conversation with Aragorn at Edoras, in one of my favorite scenes in the book, she delivers these searing lines: ‘All your words are but to say: you are a woman, and your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and honour, you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more. But I am of the House of Eorl and not a serving-woman. I can ride and wield blade, and I do not fear either pain or death.’ Aragorn asks, ‘What do you fear, lady?’ And Éowyn replies: ‘A cage. To stay behind bars, until use and old age accept them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire.’

But at the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, she DOES great deeds! She and Merry slay the Witch-king of Angmar, Sauron’s MOST POWERFUL SERVANT. When you think about the power of fear that the Nazgûl had over most mortals, it’s absolutely astounding how brave this was for them to do. But even afterwards, Éowyn doesn’t appear to know the value of what she’s done. Part of this may be her grief for Théoden, and part of it may be the Black Breath, but the point is she doesn’t know what she has achieved. Because in the Houses of Healing, she says to Faramir, ‘I wish to ride to war like my brother Éomer, or better like Théoden the king, for he died and has both honour and peace.’ Éowyn still does not believe she has won honor—and so she does not have peace.

To this Faramir says, ‘It is too late, lady, to follow the Captains, even if you had the strength. But death in battle may come to us all yet, willing or unwilling. You will be better prepared to face it in your own manner, if while there is still time you do as the Healer commanded. You and I, we must endure with patience the hours of waiting.’ It’s important that Faramir doesn’t tell her she’s wrong for wanting to go to battle, only that she must heal, and battle may still come for them yet—and he says WE must wait. Éowyn didn’t want to be left behind to wait for the men to return, but with her and Faramir both waiting, it no longer has that meaning.

This is all important context for the confession. Because days later, in the most romantic conversation of all time, Faramir says these magic words: ‘For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten.’ LISTEN TO ME, IT IS SO IMPORTANT THAT HE SAYS THIS! THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT ÉOWYN NEEDED TO HEAR. It’s the FIRST THING HE SAYS IN THE SPEECH! Before he says she’s beautiful, before he says he loves her, he tells her she is valiant.

This is it. This is why this scene is peak romance to me. Because Éowyn desired to do great deeds and to win honor in battle, and she actually HAS DONE SO, but she doesn’t know it. And Faramir understands her, and not only that, he ADMIRES HER! ‘For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten.’ I don’t know about you, but that line ALONE would make me fall in love.

[loopspoop]

It was as if he was in a complete void. There was no feeling at all. Except for a small evergrowing creep of cold all around him. Like he was back in the snow. He opened his eyes halfway, having completely run out of energy from that action alone.

The room was still dark. But it only seemed a bit darker than it had when he had gotten back. Good. He had only been out for a few minutes then. He noted, however, that the blankets and sheets had returned to their original places. Had a maid come in to fix the room? Interesting. He hadn’t given this motel enough credit.

He attempted to sit up, but began shaking heavily at the effort of it. Despite that, he pushed himself more, feeling the need to get up NOW, to fix everything in that very moment. Instead, he collapsed onto his side and began throwing up, burning his throat in the process.

His energy had completely run dry.

…………

“This was just a painting wasn’t it? Just about the museum’s security? We weren’t dealing with anything bigger were we?” Jigen was now pacing around the room, despite his several efforts to hide his discomfort with an aloof wall. Goemon was still in his position for meditation, but found it hard to focus with Jigen loud thinking. Or at least that was his excuse, while he himself attempted to rationalize the situation.

“Not that I am aware of.”

“So … why?” He crushed his hat against his head.

“Lupin would not relinquish his prize easily.”

“I KNOW THAT!”

“Perhaps he is merely hiding from whatever force has caused all of this. You did not mention any signs of struggle.”

Jigen paused, thinking on the statement, “You’re right.”

“Then perhaps it is best to wait. Even in times of trouble, Lupin has always found his own way out.”

“But then why isn’t he here?”

Goemon couldn’t argue that. It had been frequently making appearances in his own thoughts. He remained silent. What were they to do if he WAS in trouble? There were no leads on where to find him. It was as if he disappeared completely.

…………

If they were still in town, then it wouldn’t take long for Zenigata to track them down. He knew just about everything about the little group. They always chose a house or lone building, apartments and hotel rooms were more Fujiko’s style. And usually on the edges of society, away from the eyes of anyone who might recognize them too soon. Except for rare occasions, this would give him the fastest results. On his several assumptions he went to the appropriate local offices to assist in his search.

Being in a smallish town, it was simple for them to pull the recently purchased and rented properties, and even shorter time for Zenigata to find his target. It was exactly their style. A small rented property about twenty minutes out, but perfectly triangulated between the town and the museum. Just enough for it to be invisible to both.

“This is where Lupin is hiding,” he said, pointing to the property which he had picked from the pile.

On his way to the house, in planning his method of attack, he had missed the small yellow car making its way into town driving past his own cohort of cars.

…………

He woke up feeling somewhat refreshed. At least, comparatively. Perhaps he had just needed a moment of rest. He reached and grabbed some of the fruit that had fallen onto the floor. Simply eating a few bites felt as though it restored him to his normal state, and after finishing a whole fruit, he allowed himself a moment to relish in the feeling of normalcy.

After that time, he rose and went back to the bathroom to check on his injuries once again. Most of them had closed up by now, however the wound on his head seemed to have opened back up when he had fallen.  He reached for the first aid kit. Damn it. It was gone. The maid must have taken it back when cleaning the room. He needed something to fix himself up with. He thought momentarily about using the tissue paper that had appeared on the counter since his last visit, but he knew that was, at best, a very temporary solution.

He determined it would be fine for a short time. So he fixed himself up, ate the rest of his fruit, threw a wet towel over where he had been lying, and collapsed back into the bed. He would go back out once he had restored more of his strength.

…………

Jigen and Goemon arrived in town, disguised of course, in order to stock up on supplies before the shops closed for the night. They had been planning to be in this place only long enough for the heist, their food and other supplies reflecting that. But now they were lost in where to go. Without telling each other, their real reason for being there was the small hope of coming across Lupin. Surely, he would just pop out of nowhere like he so often did.

It was quiet as the car came to a stop. The two “old” men got out of the car and separated from each other to search for their own needs. They had both agreed to meet back again in an hour and a half.

…………

The house was empty. That was disappointing. But there were clear signs that they had been here. And recently. So, they may still be here. Zenigata prepared for the odds, and instructed his underlings to do the same. They would surprise the group upon its return.

👀 I’m so hype to figure out who gets to him first