#for missions it’s much less because his senses are heightened but I believe he still has an attitude

[sinnbaddie]

Headcanon that Gai needs a certain number of hours to be as cheerful in the day as he is and if he’s woken up before he reaches that time he’s gonna be the biggest asshole to you about it in the most passive aggressive way

Kakashi has gotten the worst of it because 1. He didn’t know the first time and 2. He thinks Gai’s rude and brash attitude is so funny

[loveless-scribes]

Uchiha Itachi: NSFW Alphabet

So, it has come to my attention that Itachi of the Uchiha has been done a disservice in the eyes of the internet and been called terrible names. *COUGH* vanilla *COUGH* basic *HACK* I assure you, my friends, nothing could be further from the truth! And so, I present to you, my interpretation of the one and only. Enjoy.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Aftercare is not optional. It is just as much a part of the experience as foreplay and the actual sex. 

Will he clean you up? Not religiously, like it’s something he’ll do every time, but yes, he would. If you’re still feeling tired or lingering in bed by the time he’s gotten cleaned up, he wouldn’t think twice and just take care of you as well. If you mention that you think it’s sweet or you enjoy it, then… YES, he would absolutely start doing this religiously. 

Expect hairstroking and holding you to his chest, letting you listen to his heartbeat. If you want to share your 4 AM thoughts here, he’ll be down for it and let you know what he thinks about your ideas. After you’ve fallen asleep he will stay awake sorting through his thoughts, over what it means to have you by his side and the risks involved for you. This is pretty much the only time in the day that it’s safe to be vulnerable with his thoughts and so, this is where he will think about what you mean to him, and press a kiss to your forehead before finally going to sleep himself. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Eyes, definitely. The eyes are known to be the windows to the heart and his own eyes define so much of his life and his destiny, so yes, he could stare into his partner’s eyes for an almost uncomfortably long time, drinking them in. I can’t really say he’s a butt or boobs guy cuz that’s not how his mind is wired. He’s wired to be mission-oriented and there’s no room in his mind for distractions but on his S/O he would appreciate and worship every inch of her. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Um… breeding kink, anyone? Defo see him as having one. Is this an underlying psychological thing because he was deprived of having a normal family? At the same time, though, he’s in no rush to have children of his own, because he knows what a terrible place this world can be. But the desire to spill his seed deep into his S/O’s womb is deeply ingrained. Modern birth-control would really solve this problem. 

Also, swallowing. *COUGH* If someone does this for him it will go straight to his head. Prepare to be rewarded. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Hmm… I almost feel guilty about characterizing him like this, but I could see him somewhere deep down having a desire to have his partner submit to him? Not in the sense that he would ask for that, but if he had a wet dream about his S/O she would probably be on her knees, and he would feel guilty about it the next day and be a little sweeter than usual to her. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Okay! So, this is an unpopular opinion, but I don’t think Itachi is inexperienced! Even if we take Canon!Ita (but maybe age him up a little) I feel like there could be situations, mission-related, or pursued by women he objectively finds appealing, where saying no is just more inconvenient than going along with it. Especially if it’s for the sake of a mission, he wouldn’t think twice. Or if he does it in order to not blow his cover. While he does largely turn admirers away, more for their own good and because he’s generally not interested, I do believe he could have realistically encountered situations in his travels that led to sexual encounters. He hasn’t taken a vow of chastity, so I don’t see why he should go to unreasonable lengths to say no?

So yeah, in my mind he definitely has some experience, but not a whole lot. Obviously, he takes necessary precautions to ensure those brief dalliances stay just that. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Hahahaha, so I had to do some research to find out what this position is called. The Mastery? Basically, it’s woman on top but the couple is in a seated position. Meaning, he gets to look into your eyes and just basically, the heightened intimacy and closeness of this position are what does it for him. Also, he has more control than in the normal girl-on-top position, so he can control the pace somewhat and help you out. 

But if you’re tired, he’ll pick you up and flip positions, he won’t wait for you to admit you’re tired and he won’t listen to your protests. He wants to see you out of your mind in ecstasy, not wondering whether or not you’re too tired to continue. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Alright, so it’s Itachi, right? He isn’t very jokey. That just is what it is. He might do something unintentionally that might make you giggle, or you could laugh out of nervousness and while he very much enjoys that sound he doesn’t really know how to provoke it from you. It’s just not his area of expertise. (Sorry, Ita. Couldn’t give you this one.)

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Hmm… well, Itachi definitely is clean by nature, and is definitely well-groomed and particular in all aspects of his life, so… I’m going to go with trimmed. Neat and orderly. Just like everything else about him. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

I lowkey just want to link my oneshots to this, cuz they say it all, but alright! He will want to be connected to his S/O. That means either being able to see her face, or if the position doesn’t allow for it to hear her voice the entire time. He’s good at that. He’s so sweet and considerate and perceptive. He knows what’s working for you and what isn’t even without you saying a word, He may not have a whole lot of experience, but he has an innate talent (because doesn’t he just… with everything?) and he’s an exceptionally quick learner. He will legit ruin you for anyone else because if you ever ARE with anyone else and they snap at you, “What do you think I am, a mind reader?” You’ll realize what Itachi was doing.

So, yeah. He wants to make sure you’re into it and you’re taken care of and you’re near delirious with pleasure before he decides to let go himself. Being self-sacrificial and caring for others is in his nature. So, yeah, you really need to man up and figure out what he needs because he isn’t going to tell you. But you’re smart. You’ll work it out. (OR JUST READ THE REST OF THIS ALPHABET.)

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Sorry, no. Don’t see him doing this. You have to consider how disciplined the guy is, and how insanely busy. It really is kind of a waste of time at the end of the day and if he wants it that badly, he can just make the trip to see you. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Teasing, edging, getting you to beg. He feels bad for you, he really does. But how much more can you take? You won’t know until you know. He’ll reward you for your patience though. And let’s be honest, you’ll love it, teasing and all. Not to mention mindfucking you to oblivion.  

So, I went through an alleged “complete” list of 239 kinks to try and answer this question and most of it was just… weird. So, let’s do this differently. What follows is an incomplete list of things I could potentially see him being into or good at or have an interest in. In no particular order: mirrors, sub/dom play (with a little coaxing and admitting to himself that this is even a thing that he’s into. It would absolutely be limited to the bedroom, though), sensory deprivation, and.... bear with me here, but… I could see him having a hand for Shibari. THINK ABOUT IT. Those knots and things they learned to tie in the ninja academy? And we know Itachi is the best of the best in everything he does. So, I don’t think this is beyond the realm of possibility. 

Generally speaking, though, he just doesn’t have the time for this stuff. BUT IF HE DID…

And now, this is exclusive to AM!Ita but he most likely has a praise kink. Being hated and cursed for eons, and being disillusioned with his own role, if his S/O comes in and tells him how great he is, how handsome, how wonderful. How good he is at what he does. How wonderful he makes her feel. Mmmm. I can see that doing things to him. XD

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Ideally, in a lake or a river. Outdoor bathing spaces are generally approached with caution, so even if someone were to come by they would call out and make sure no one is there first, which means, less risk of getting caught. And I mean, this is Itachi… He’s an S-rank exiled nin. HE KNOWS HOW TO NOT GET CAUGHT. LOL. But yeah, he spends a lot of time out-of-doors. He’s more accustomed to the starry sky overhead than the roof of a house or woodland cabin. In my interpretation, he feels very much at peace when surrounded by nature and he would enjoy being intimate with you in that setting. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Confidence. Enthusiasm. Not necessarily seduction, if it’s a stranger he’s dealing with, this is more of a turn-off than anything. But if it’s his S/O and she turns up the charm and crooks a finger at him… You might even get a smile on that stoic face. I don’t see him being into the shy and stuttering type. If you blush and say, “No! St- stop!” He’ll literally stop. And probably apologize. AND NOT DO IT AGAIN.

If you try and explain to him that your no doesn’t mean no… Ah, yeah. He’s not into that. Be straightforward. Say what you mean. Don’t play games with him. He’ll see right through you. 

That being said, being a lonely fighter all his life means he’s very sensitive to your touch. Just run a hand along his shoulder in passing and he’ll grab it and press a kiss to your palm, and haul you in. I could see him being into your hands. It really isn’t hard to turn him on, it’s hard to earn his trust and a position in his life that gives you the right to touch him and be touched by him. But when you’re there, it’s the easiest thing in the world. A smile, a kiss, a brush of your fingers over his collarbones. He’s a goner. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Pegging. This goes without saying. I can’t really think of much else he wouldn’t be into. I mean, stuff that’s a little more out there. Watersports. Daddy/Mommy kinks. Actual exhibitionism, (not genjutsu version) no way is he going to let anyone look in on your most intimate moments. Impact play. He knows very well what his hands are capable of, and there’s a lot of blood on them, so he really wouldn’t be into stuff that involves actually hurting you. 

If his S/O likes it VERY rough, he might resort to genjutsu so that she gets what she wants, but he doesn’t have to actually hurt her. Other than that, bruising, choking, the usual level of roughness? Bring it on. Being adept with his hands also means he knows very well where that fine line between pain and pleasure is. 

Not to mention, he’s very perceptive, so he’ll figure out what you’re into even without you saying it. He’s also very giving so he’ll focus more on your preferences than his own. But if the day ever comes where you realize what submission does to him… The man would be putty in your hands. Kukukukuku...

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Both. 

Giving, because he has absolute control over your pleasure, and because he enjoys how easily he can drive you out of your mind. We’ve established that he’s a terrible tease, so driving you to the brink and leaving you hanging, feeling every single one of your reactions… It’s good stuff. 

Receiving takes the cake though. Being that vulnerable with someone, even having someone he can trust that much. It’s definitely something he’s very partial to, something that makes him soft towards you, and something that plays into his forbidden desire of seeing you submit, whether or not he’s aware of it. He’ll make sure to return the favor tenfold.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This is an odd question I think, because… doesn’t it depend? On how much time he has, on how the two of you are feeling, on what the mood is? 

Anyways, I’m going to go ahead and say slow and sensual because he really is a man who likes to take his time with you. He likes to feel every one of your responses, hear every little mewl and whimper and moan that crosses your lips. He definitely makes it an experience. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not his preference, but he isn’t above having a quickie if that’s all that time allows. But he would definitely follow up with a proper session at a later time, then. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Itachi is so nice. He really is. There’s nothing you could want that he wouldn’t be willing to try at least once for your sake. I mean, apart from the stuff listed under “N”. 

And would he take risks? YES, HE WOULD. Because his assessment of the risks varies greatly from yours. So, something that you would think is very risky, might seem not risky at all to him, because he knows exactly how to go unseen, unnoticed. You might think he’s being risky, but he’s well aware there was a 0% chance you were going to get caught. Because Itachi skillz.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Stamina! *insert sparkles* AM!Ita has been established in the works, so I think that needs no comment. Canon!Itachi is a freaking fighter. An S-class exiled nin. Someone who claims Itachi has no stamina wants to start something with me. DID YOU SEE HIM HAND SASUKE’S ASS TO HIM? Despite his illness? He lost because he CHOSE to lose. I don’t see the Akatsuki hauling out a wheelchair for Itachi to go on his missions, so don’t go telling me nothing about Itachi having no stamina. SHAKE MY HEAD WHILE JUDGING YOU.

Dude is strong as hell. And you can’t tell me some bedroom fun is more physically taxing than literal superhuman battles against huge ass tailed beasts! It’s just ridiculous. I’m not here to rant. Better calm down.

I’m here to tell you our man can go for at least three rounds and you will *GUARANTEED* always tire out before he does. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Yes. The sharingan. THE ONLY TOY YOU WILL EVER NEED. As mentioned above, he’s not above using his skills to heighten your pleasure, and mess with your mind. But actual, physical toys? Nah, the thought processes that would lead to considering, comparing, and actually purchasing those are just so foreign to his thinking. It would never even cross his mind. What can a toy even do that he can’t do better? (To his thinking anyway. Well, he’s not wrong.)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He will make you beg. Absolutely. He’s totally unfair. He will have casual conversations with you while driving you out of your wits. And then he’ll ask you why you’re not answering him. Ask you what’s wrong. Ask you what you want. LIKE HE DOESN’T KNOW. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Itachi is very restrained and disciplined so, unfortunately, this means he isn’t very vocal. I know, cry with me, it’s such a waste. *hires an orchestra of the world’s smallest violins* BUT that means when you do manage to make him groan or moan in pleasure, it’s such a huge ego boost. Apart from the sounds he makes when hitting a climax, he’s generally in control and whispering praise and teasings into your ear or over your skin.

If you want him to talk, get on your knees and give him some head. Not kidding. Mentioned it above already. He gets to let go, a lot of his secret kinks are getting fulfilled, he feels vulnerable and is cool with it. He’ll dig his hands into your hair, cup your cheek, his eyes will roll into the back of his head and he’ll tell you on a low moan what a good girl you are. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

So, let’s say you’re waiting to talk to him and he’s busy meeting with some people or whatever and you’re standing off to the side patiently. He just briefly glances at you before turning back to his comrades and BOOM. Next thing you know, he’s got you by the neck, has you pinned against his desk/table/whatever (this was originally a Hokage!Ita headcanon so do with that what you will), and is doing unspeakable things to you in front of everyone. No sooner does the encounter come to an end, than you suddenly wake up and find yourself still standing right where you were, until it happens again, and this time he takes you against the wall. It’s an illusion wrapped in an illusion wrapped in an illusion more times than you can count and when you finally do come to your senses, you can barely stand. The meeting is over. Itachi turns toward you, “You wanted to speak with me?”

Ah, yes. Good old Itachi mindfuckery.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I mean, muscles, yes? Lots of them. Man’s fit as a fiddle. He’s a ninja. So, yes, the entire delicious length of him is covered in lean, firm muscle. He’s clearly well-endowed because… he just is. Maybe not the longest cucumber in the farmer’s market (which isn’t to say he isn’t long, because he is… don’t claim I called him short) but thick and veiny and above all else, attached to a man with a brain who knows how to use it efficiently. Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

This is a tough one, because the constraints are not on his drive, but on his time. He’ll take whatever chances he can to be with you. AM!Ita is established to have a very high sex drive, but he also has restraint, so when you’re not into it, he’s cool with it. As if that would ever happen. So, I would have to say, the actual encounters will unfortunately be far between because of his lifestyle, but he will always make up for lost time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Kind of already mentioned this above, that those moments afterwards with you are his most vulnerable moments where he feels relatively safe and at ease, so he stays awake for a long time after, sorting through his thoughts. Also, he won’t say this to you, but it’s his job to protect you, so there is no way he’ll fall asleep before you do. Not gonna happen.

[scribblingfangirl]

GLOWING IN THE DARK #2 | The Punisher - Billy Russo

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Author’s Note: First of all: I am so sorry this part took so long (and it is very underwhelming as it’s just a few scenes of Y/N’s life on the base (all involving Billy - and I’m not sure if I got his character right in this one)). I tried to make it one longer coherent chapter, but I needed these scenes to be able to proceed to the more important parts of the story. Hope you guys don’t mind. I hope the next few installments will appear faster and will get better again. But for now, thank you for reading and enjoy!

word count:  ~ 2.7k

summary: Becoming Billy’s friend is weird - if whatever relationship you have is even considered a friendship.

warnings: //

| PREVIOUS PART | - | next part | - | SERIES MASTERLIST |

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You felt it – whatever or whoever it was – before you even heard or saw anything. 

As a Marine, you had undergone different kinds of training modules and boot camps and this wasn’t your first tour either. Your job before getting promoted to helicopter gunner had been to try and get in and out of places without raising any suspicion or getting in the way of the others that were fighting while you got the intel. Inevitably, however, sooner or later you had to fight your way out of wherever the hell you were as well.

It had heightened your senses, which made it almost impossible for you to have a good night's rest. The smallest change in the atmosphere or the slightest sound sent you straight to overdrive. No heavy eyelids, no blurry mind - just wide-awake and alert.

Of course, this wasn't the case with everyone though. After missions with the Blackbird crew, you’d seen Garth and Dane fall asleep as soon as their heads hit their pillows and nothing could wake them up after that. You even had some conversations with Frank about it whenever you stayed over at the Castles during your military leave. 

You’d call the day you were able to fall asleep within the first ten minutes of getting into bed and stay asleep for the whole night a miracle. That is why your eyes opened wide and your body went rigid as you blinked desperately and tried to adapt your vision to the darkness. Or at least find the smallest shimmer of light. Obviously, you had no such luck. After all, it was somewhere around the early hours of the morning and it was pitch-black in the tent. 

Your hand automatically went for the gun under your pillow, only to end up empty, and it took you a millisecond to realize that you weren’t in your cot in the tent you shared with Garth and Dane, but rather in the infirmary where weapons weren’t allowed. 

You decided to do the next best thing. You used your body.

In a swift movement and without much hesitation you grabbed the thing - a person as you came to realize in that very moment - in front of you and used the momentum to turn both of you around, pinning him (as you still were the only woman on the base) down on the bed, straddling his waist and pressing your upper arm on what you expected to be his throat.

A soft chuckle resounded through the tent. In the next second, you were blinking against the white lights that illuminated the infirmary, realising that you were holding Billy in a tight grip. And worse, straddling him. 

As your senses were still on a high (heart beating fast and body frozen) you were unable to do anything else other than stare shocked at Billy.

“Gotta admit Frankie boy, you trained her well,” Billy smirked up at you, his hands going to your waist to support you a little bit and take the weight of your injured foot.

“Na,” Frank shook his head, “All that was already there. I just showed her how to properly use and manage her strengths. Reminded her of who she once was.” Frank approached you both from his place beside the entrance and gently pulled you away from Billy, who started to massage his neck as he slowly stood up.

Billy chuckled at that. “A clumsy girl?”

“Hey! Watch it or I beat your ass-”

“Again… was that what you wanted to say? Do I have to remind you that you didn't beat my ass last time? That's why I told you that there are less violent ways for you to see my backside.”

You had soon realized that flirting truly was Billy’s defence mechanism, just as Frank had said. And humour. Whenever something turned uncomfortable for him he either turned on his charms or tried to alleviate the situation by making some stupid remark.

You had also realized that Billy had been right. You were terribly out of shape. Everything had hurt the day after the game, but you had guessed it might also have had something to do with the fact that two grown-up men literally tackled you to the ground the day before.

So you had gone to Frank, because, obviously, you couldn’t give Billy the satisfaction (or more time with you) and had asked him to give you some training lessons. A little refresher of your earlier days. 

“Okay… What would you do if I did this to you?” Frank asked while cornering you against a wall and trapping you between it and his body, putting his hands on either side of your head.

“Really Frank. Are we really going to look at Self-Defense 101? I’m weak right now, not stupid. I remember the training.”

“Well, show me then.”

Sighing you looked him straight in the eyes as you punched your straight fingers into his ribcage under his left armpit, causing him to withdraw his left arm entirely. Then you punched your fist into his left rib cage that was now open to you, pushing him slightly away from you before punching his chin and knocking your head against his.

Tumbling a few steps back Frank caught himself quickly and grabbed you, hugging you from behind as you had already turned around to move away. “Not so quickly.”

“Do you really want me to give you a concussion?” you groaned, leaning closer into him and knocked your head back into his.

With a grunt, and while trying to regain his footing after stabilizing you due to the additional weight you put into his arms, Frank loosened his arms around you and you went for his right knee. 

Ducking down fast and sliding your hands down his leg to his foot you pulled it up before Frank could regain his balance, throwing him to the ground behind you. You quickly turned around and sat triumphantly on his stomach. 

“Satisfied?”

“It’s a beginning.”

“That’s enough Bill.” Frank's deep voice brought you back to the present. “She might be a little clumsy sometimes, but it’s clear that you can’t say anything against her senses.”

“Hey! Whose side are you on?”

“Kid, let’s be honest. I saw you tripping over nothing but thin air yesterday, somehow managing to injure your foot while doing that. And then you proceeded to fall face-first to the ground.” Frank said as he moved you to another unoccupied bed. Thank god you were the only one in the infirmary right now. Scoffing you rolled your eyes. 

“The ground wanted a hug! Not my problem you’re a heartless guy. Ever thought about the fact that it might not want to just be trampled on? And anyway,” you added after a short pause, “you heard them yesterday after you insisted on bringing me here. I’m fine! Just a misstep, nothing a good night's rest with limited movement wouldn’t fix… which well, is kind of the opposite of what you two just did.”

“Ah well, sorry ‘bout that. Colonel Schoonover wants to go over some strategic movements first thing in the morning. Thought you might want to get caught up with the most important details first.”

“Oh. I see. And both of you were needed to bring me a, and I quote, ‘clumsy girl’ up to date?”

“Oh no. I’m sure Billy, who very enthusiastically volunteered, will do that just fine. I just followed to make sure you don't kill each other. You are welcome by the way.” 

-

After that, you weren’t sure if you were actually becoming friends with Billy (because you didn’t actually need to ‘up your friend game’) or just accustomed to him because he was always there whenever you were doing something with Frank.

Granted, there were times when it was just you and Billy (and multiple other Marines). Like that one time when you were waiting for the showers to turn purple (a term the base had coined to show that it was your time to use the facilities without having to check your surroundings for possible men to appear and take a shower with you.... they had realized how bad it had sounded the moment they had said it to you.)

You had been waiting in front of the facility as there was still around 10 minutes before they would turn purple and Billy had decided to keep you company by starting to annoy you (you couldn't believe how incredibly childish he could be - he gave you wet willies!)

Nevertheless, you had grown close enough to him to tell him about your time as a foot soldier and how you had a knack for repairing stuff, especially cars and aeroplanes thanks to your father. That he had been a military mechanic and that, after your mother had died when you were a baby, he had taken you with him whenever he had to move or do something for the military. That you had practically grown up on military bases and that joining wasn’t even a question, it was the only valid option in your life. And that one day the Marines had asked you to join their new helicopter crew and you couldn't say no, as you had wanted to feel closer to your father who had died a few years prior.

You had also talked about how you never met in New York (or about how Frank skillfully managed to keep you both apart) and about the fact that you guys have the same call sign (well, he and your helicopter). 

That was apparently enough for Frank to give you the “I know I said, I know Maria said, but do not fall in love with him”-speech one night while you were sitting on Billy’s bed, enjoying some alone time with Frank after some hectic weeks of training and strategy meetings.

“Don’t worry,” you had said and patted his back, “you know that my heart belongs to the sky. And, well, to Pete.”

Little did you know that Billy had just entered the tent when you said that.

-

"- hell Y/L/N!”

“It was my pleasure. But you know, maybe next time you could just thank me, one might think you don’t have any manners.”

“You could have died out there!"

"It was a test run Garth. If anything, we would have died together. Also, here I was thinking taking risks is your life motto. I mean, isn’t your name practically Gar-'With some good food I can conquer everything?'-field?"

"With good food, you can conquer everything… and everyone," he winked at you, “because even though the saying goes 'The way to a man's heart goes through his stomach' this applies to women and everybody else as well!"

You laughed and clapped his back as you pushed aside the plastic tarpaulin and let him pass you before leaving the tent as well. 

"Sounds like you gotta invite me for dinner sometime, as soon as we're stateside again!"

"Sounds like it!"

Remembering that you had to get something from your cot you turned around to get it, but stopped in your movement when you caught a glimpse of Billy, his fist tightly shut and his eyes glaring after Garth. Realizing that you were watching him, he turned around and stomped over to his own tent.

-

This repeated itself on multiple occasions. You talking to a fellow Marine or crew member and Billy seeing it and getting angry. Sometimes you realized it, sometimes you didn’t. Like the time in front of the dining tent. 

One of the Marines, you didn’t even know his name, had waved you over to give you a piece of mail that had found its way to him instead of you (apparently your names were similar enough to confuse the guy who had distributed them), apologizing for opening it already. 

You had just shaken your head, saying it wasn’t his fault and had turned the envelope around, causing a beautiful ring hanging on a thin necklace to fall into your hands. Smiling at it while suppressing some tears that were threatening to leave your eyes you had looked up at him. “I doubt you would be caught wearing this anyway.”

Of course, your luck had it for Billy to see him giving you the envelope and the necklace and to disappear through another entrance into the mess hall before he was able to hear you thank the guy for bringing you the envelope.

-

And then there was that time when you were pretty sure that Billy had become more to you. You weren’t sure what exactly, but more.

A Skype call for you had come through during the day, which Billy who had just passed by, accepted and told the man on the other side of the screen to wait while he got you. Sticking around he had to admit that he felt a little green now that he knew that not only Frank but even you had someone waiting for them when they came back. He wasn’t near enough to hear what was being said, but near enough to see you touch the computer before the connection ended and see you starting to cry terribly after that and rushing away, making Billy think the guy just broke up with you.

Frank had found you shortly afterwards (after Billy had gone to him to tell him what had happened, not being a very touchy-feely guy but thinking you might want someone around). He had talked to you, asked what had happened and you had repeated yourself, telling him that “my heart belongs to the sky now. Everybody I ever loved has left me, even though I am the one risking my life every day.”

Frank had just hugged you closer telling you that wasn't true. That he, Maria and the kids would always be there for you, that you wouldn’t be able to get rid of them now, no matter how hard you tried.

You didn’t know how long you had been sitting there, but then Billy had entered the tent, telling Frank that Maria was asking for a Skype call and Frank requested for Billy to stay with you. 

You both had stayed quiet for some time except for your sniffles and hiccups that came from you crying earlier.

“You shouldn’t be crying. You have more than enough men falling on their knees for you.”

Confused you had lifted your head to look at him through teary eyes. “What?” “You shouldn’t be crying because of Pete. I heard Garth inviting you on a dinner date as soon as you’re both on leave again and saw the Marine in Frank’s squad giving you the neck-”

You had started to laugh at that. “Wait what? Please don’t tell me that you’re jealous!” 

“No! Just… just annoyed I guess. I get called ‘Billy the Beaut’ and get called out on my shit and… and then you come along and you’re allowed to dance on all of our noses?” 

You had snorted, wiping your nose on your T-Shirt sleeve. “Welcome to the world of a woman. As normally it's the other way around. Doesn't feel nice, right?” You had chuckled sarcastically. “Anyway, who’s Pete?” 

“Who’s… Who’s Pete? Your boy-, well, your now ex-boyfriend? The guy who just broke up with you over Skype?” 

Being reminded of that Skype call had hurt you, but you had laughed anyway. His stupid conclusions and obvious obliviousness had helped you think of other things. “I might have kissed a Pete once, but I might have lost the memo that he was my boyfriend because as far as I know, I never had one.” 

“But the man-” 

“Was my cousin's doctor and now close friend due to the time we had to spend together.” 

“But you told Frank something about your heart and Pete. Wait, was?”

Of course, he had heard that. “Pete's another name for our bird. Yes, our callsign is Blackbird, but the guys call him Pete and I guess it stuck. And yes, was. He just called me to tell me that my cousin died of cancer. No… please. I don’t need your condolences. I’ve been around death for quite a while. It feels almost normal already.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“I know… but what can I do? I cried and now I have to stand up and make sure that we don’t meet too quickly again, that's what she would want.” 

After that you both had sat there, quiet again, shoulder against shoulder, staring at the green plastic of the tent. Never realising that Billy, however unpleasant that situation might've been for him, never searched for a way out of it.

•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•.

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[stuckinmy-wonderland]

So hi. This is my first ever written & shared headcanon so it might be missing a lot lol. As long as y’all enjoy, I could care less how I wrote it! So here have a Wolf Gavin~! 💙🐺💙 (who doesn’t love a good wolf boi~? ^//^) and yeah this totally was not influenced by his spicy halloween karma before i read his date owo EnjOy!!

< WEREWOLF GAVIN HC >

APPEARANCE

brown ears are sharply pointed, soft and fluffy to the touch

ears display all the kinds of emotions he might be feeling: flattened for sadness or anger, erect for alertness or curious, etc.

loves his ears to be scratched and rubbed, but won’t say so or deny his joy when MC sees his tail wag slightly

he didn’t want his wolf ears pierced, but had to in order to be accepted into a pack

slit amber eyes, they practically glow in the dark

has an incredible sense of smell and will blush at MC’s scent, but try to hide it

is extremely sensitive to stronger smells

will actually gag or choke on strong smells he doesn’t like; he cannot stand them

his tail is huge and will wrap around MC to either keep her warm or close around her to protect her from danger or guide her away from it

pointed canine teeth i.e. fangs

heightened sensitivity in hearing, eyesight, and scent

his full form is exactly like a normal wolf except bigger; MUCH BIGGER; like the size of a pick up trUCK 😳

brown fur with traces of white on chest and front paws 🐾

lone wolf attitude is now magnified

one time MC managed to sneak up on him and startled him that he yelped/yipped in surprise ☺️

STORY

he was chained up and left by his pack because he betrayed them for not participating in an all out killing spree (killing a village of humans)

“You have the heart of a human…not a wolf’s. Of course that’s no surprise since you were turned rather than born…therefore be cursed with a human heart and face a world that will not accept you on either side; human or wolf!”

his pack magically bound him to the castle and encased his true strength within a crystal heart; his task (or “curse” really) in being bound to the castle is that he must find his place in the world

Gavin believes his place to be in a pack so he must figure out how to regain his strength from the crystal heart in order to find a new pack

he guards his crystal heart so that it does not fall in to the wrong hands as it also holds the power to influence him

the crystal heart could or could not be a part of his curse

MC ventures into the castle for research and clues to her past lineage and stumbles upon the crystal heart

Gavin walks in on MC and almost attacks her

MC shields herself, but then manages to connect the dots that he either needs the crystal heart for something or...

“I’m tasked with guarding it…” he tells her, but MC thinks there is more to it so she makes it her mission to figure that out

MC keeps the crystal heart on her person at all times in her brown satchel bag

Gavin is puzzled why MC keeps coming back to spend time with him; he was also very surprised that MC approached him when they first met

as MC continues to possess the crystal heart Gavin’s ice wall around his own heart begins to thaw and melt

eventually MC learns that the crystal heart holds the power to influence Gavin; so she may or may not use it to gain snuggles and/or affection from him to which he reluctantly bends to her will at first, but warms up to her

MC learns that he changes with the phases of the moon; a full moon he is transformed for the whole night until sunrise, a half moon half night, quarter moon quarter night so forth and is not scared by his full form

MC loves to snuggle with him in his full wolf form on cold snowy nights; he does it to protect her, keep her warm and happy; he is extremely happy that she is not scared of him in his full form

will not hold still while MC tends to his wounds (a few scratches) he got while rummaging around the castle

he acted confused when MC threw a stick one time while they were outside; she was disappointed until she busied herself with something and then turned around to see the stick she had thrown by her feet…

...MC looked at Gavin; he stared back blankly, “what?” and she just chuckled to herself

after a long time together Gavin starts to realize that he doesn’t want MC to leave his side; he hates it when she leaves for a long period of time as he’s worried about her

“I’m a hunter,” he tells her. “A hunter is a better protector than your average person, don’t you think?”

Gavin does tell MC about his curse and why he never leaves/cannot leave the castle; he explains that the story of Red Riding Hood is mostly made up but actually true; his pack killed Riding Hood’s village and her white cloak was stained red with blood from being killed

“Hence,” Gavin explains, “Red Riding Hood”

“And most people pair the wolf who killed Riding Hood and her village…to me,” Gavin sighs

“Well,” MC says quietly. “I had that suspicion, but everything they say about you in the village is wrong. You’re not a bloodthirsty monster…you are just…you.”

“But why did you stick around?” Gavin asks the question he wants answered the most

“Because…I like you.” MC smiles shyly. “You’re funny and kind…you have your own feelings and you deserve to be free like everyone else not trapped in this castle so I stayed because I wanted to help you lift the curse and escape.”

I am incredibly lucky to have her… how is it that our paths crossed? She made our encounter possible…and I couldn’t be more thankful…

in turn MC tells him about her past: “I’m actually a surviving descendant of Riding Hood…and I came here to find the truth about my family line’s disappearance which unfortunately was due to your past pack killing them all.”

Gavin is shocked. “How…?”

“My grandmother was still very young, but she was away from the village at the time of the mass killing and she managed to escape into the woods to the next village over.”

“Riding Hood was my great grandmother.”

Gavin apologizes for his pack’s behavior, but MC brushes it aside saying it wasn’t his fault nor should he be apologizing on their behalf

later that night was a new moon and knowing that Gavin gets antsy when she’s away, MC stays the night with him

at that time some men come to kill Gavin upon hearing the “Legend of Wolf Castle”

MC hears the men and goes to try and peacefully dissuade them from their intent but ends up getting hurt

Gavin is on top of a man like white on rice upon hearing MC’s cry

he cradles MC in his arms, “She had nothing to do with your sole mission of seeking ME out!” his voice drips with anger, “So why did you hurt her?!”

with his teeth and fangs, he cinches the front of MC’s dress with the cord to suppress the light bleeding

MC takes out the crystal heart and hands it to Gavin; he takes it

“I know… you’ll make the right choice,” her voice rasps

his eyes turn to the remaining men…his slit pupils become fine lines, brows furrowing, fangs bared with the cinch cord and blood

“For I will stain your cloak red...” he says only for her. “Red with the blood from my heart…that beats only for you now.”

he crushes the crystal heart to a thousand shards with his bare hand and regains his true werewolf strength

Gavin’s curse is broken by MC as she becomes his new pack and he is the alpha…or rather Gavin realizes that he doesn’t need to be in a pack to be happy, but to have someone he loves by his side

and have someone who loves him

Who says monsters cannot love?

Fin.

[goldenretriever-nicknelson]

Annus Mirabilis ~ Thanksgiving 2020

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: Happy turkey day! This chapter is actually on time yay! This was really hard to write because I don’t celebrate thanksgiving but I got some help so hopefully it’s okay. I can’t believe there’s only one month left!! Where did this year go? 

Since this is my last time writing a chapter for this series I just want to say it’s been an honour to write with @thinkoutsidethebex​. She’s one of my favourite writers here and one of my favourite friends that I’ve ever made on this hellsite. We’ve had our differences and disagreements but I love you Bex Thank you for writing this with me.

Warnings: angst, jealousy, a brit writing about a holiday she doesn’t know about lol

Word count: 2.6k

Thanksgiving was one of Peter’s favorite holidays. Not because of the traditions or the parties, it was because of the smell he woke up to on Thanksgiving morning. His heightened senses allowed him to savour the smell of his aunt’s cooking from the moment he woke up and it always put him in a good mood. The thought of having a nice dinner, just him and May, and not having to worry about assignments too made Peter feel lighter than he had in ages.

“What’s got you so happy?” May asked, raising her brow as he bounced into the room. “Did things with Y/n finally work out?” Peter’s expression and heart dropped at the same time, the memories of the last time he had seen you rushing back. 

“Um no. I’m just looking forward to dinner.” He forced a smile and grabbed a piece of fruit for his breakfast. May nodded, already prepping things for the afternoon. 

“I did tell you I invited a few people for dinner this year, didn’t I?” Peter almost dropped the apple from his hand as the nice image of a quiet dinner was thrown out of the window.  

“What? Who?” 

“Oh, um just a few of the avengers. Steve, Natasha, Bruce, and.. Y/n.” May turned as you said the last name, avoiding the look that Peter sent her way. 

“May! She’s not going to want to see me!” 

“Oh really?” Peter nodded as if it was obvious as May turned back to him with a knowing smirk. “Then why did she already say yes?” Peter’s jaw dropped a little, panic and nerves and a little bit of excitement flooding his brain. 

“S-she said yes?” he stammered, allowing the faintest glimmer of hope to flare in his heart. May nodded with the same knowing smirk playing at her lips.. She could almost see the gears in Peter’s brain working double speed as he thought about seeing you again. 

“It’s gonna be okay.” May tried to reassure softly, but Peter was worried it would be anything but. 

He tried to preoccupy himself until company came that afternoon. He went on a quick patrol, but it seemed even the criminal element of New York had opted to spend the day with family because there wasn’t so much as a jaywalker. He stopped by the F.E.A.S.T. shelter to help out a bit with their Thanksgiving meal, and swung by the store on the way home to pick up a few things May mentioned to him that he missed. 

By the time he got back home, he was almost in full panic mode. He fussed about what to wear and what he was going to say,  even going so far as to practice in his mirror, until Ned walked into his room and laughed.

“Dude what are you doing?” Peter’s cheeks flushed red as he rolled his eyes and finished getting ready. 

“Nothing, I was just-”

“Telling your mirror how much you love Y/n?” Ned laughed and adjusted his hat. Peter threw a sock at him and tried to change the subject as they walked downstairs. 

“So, new hat?” 

“Don’t try and change the subject dude, but yes.” Ned smiled and patted his hat as if for good luck just as Peter noticed someone walking through the door.

You looked hesitant as you walked in, a large freshly baked pumpkin pie in your hands and a small smile gracing your lips. He wondered if you’d picked pumpkin pie to bring because you remembered it was his favorite, or if it was just a strange coincidence. You were wearing a simple outfit with your hair done up but Peter couldn’t help but think about how good you looked. His heart simultaneously lifted and fell as you met his gaze. It only lasted a brief moment but the tension between you was thick. 

“I, uh, think I’m gonna grab some coffee.” Ned cleared his throat and walked past you both into the kitchen, leaving you both to bask in the awkwardness of what was once your best friendship. 

“H-hi Peter.” 

“Hey.” 

You both gave slightly forced smiles to each other before Peter’s eyes darted towards his shoes. You sighed and bit your lip, wishing that something could break the awkwardness. 

“You never replied to my texts.” Peter commented, breaking the silence that had settled in the room even with more guests arriving. 

“Oh well I-” You faltered, unspoken words dying on your lips as you looked back at Peter. “I came here because May invited me, okay? That’s all.” 

Just when Peter thought he couldn’t hurt anymore at seeing you, those words chipped away at the cracks in his heart. 

“Oh.” 

You held the plate of food tighter and chewed on your bottom lip before walking away into the kitchen to find May, fighting back your tears. Peter looked up at you just about to apologise for the party with his rehearsed speech but the words left as he saw you walking away. 

He tried to occupy himself with the party, greeting the various members of the team as they arrived. Once everyone was there, May then asked him to set the table which he hurried to do. 

“Y/n would you go and help Peter please?” 

Peter cursed May in his head as he heard those words, followed by your footsteps. He sighed and laid out the napkins. 

“I’m capable of setting a table, you know?” he snapped, a little harsher than he intended. 

You choose to stay silent and started laying out the cutlery but Peter could sense your gaze flickering to him every so often. The only thing that broke the silence was the chatter from the living room as they watched the parade and the soft music playing on in the background. 

After the table was finally set, you and Peter made your way to see the rest of the guests. May was busy putting the finishing touches on dinner and the others were idly chatting as the Macy’s Thanksgiving day parade showed on the tv. Peter immediately noticed you walk straight past him and Ned to where Steve was drinking a beer and watching the tv.

Peter once again tried not to look too hurt as you ignored his company, instead choosing to focus on Ned talking about the newest update for Beast Slayer. His eyes kept flickering to you as you laughed with Steve, resting your hand on his arm. It was the most he’d seen you smile in a while, he just wished he could have been the one to make you smile like he used to.  

“And it has these cool Christmas updates where you can- Peter?” 

Ned noticed Peter’s jaw had clenched as had his fists, his eyes focused on the other side of the room where you were leaning in to whisper something to Steve before both of you started giggling. Peter was just about to walk over but Ned soon stopped him and ushered him to the dining table where May was serving up dinner.

“Looks great May! Right Peter?” Ned nudged his best friend, trying to distract him from what Y/n was doing. Peter looked at Ned and nodded.

“Um, yeah you look alright dude.” 

Ned and May gave each other a look before she called everyone for dinner. It was a small group but it was still a tight squeeze on their small table. Peter saved a space for you next to him but you choose instead to sit next to Steve, making his blood boil. 

“Dude, you’ve got to stop being jealous. Trust me nothing is happening.” Ned whispered to him as Peter vigorously cut his turkey piece as he had been doing for the last 5 minutes. The knife was almost carving into the plate. 

Peter dropped the knife quickly and turned to Ned with red cheeks and a forced laugh. “Je- you think I’m jealous?” Peter asked, shaking his head and forcing another laugh. 

“Dude cmon.” 

“I-I’m just worried about her. I mean you don’t know Steve could be dangerous.” Peter stuttered, ignoring Ned’s scoff as he stuffed a piece of turkey in his mouth and his eyes glanced back over to you but this time you met his gaze. You both blushed before quickly looking back down at your plates, both suddenly very interested in your food. 

The rest of the dinner was pleasant, and far less tense than Peter had imagined it would be. Everyone was smiling and exchanging stories about missions or old family traditions. Even you and Peter started to enjoy yourselves more. Peter was stuffing his face with all the different kinds of food, trying not to look over in your direction too much because he knew he wouldn’t like what he saw. 

“So, what is everyone thankful for?” May asked as she finished her plate, looking around the table. “Peter?” She gave him a smile, interrupting the stuffing of mashed potatoes in his mouth. 

“Um.” He quickly ate the food and blushed as he noticed all eyes were on him, waiting for him to start the tradition. Peter’s eyes quickly met yours once more before he spoke. “I’m thankful for the people in my life who I love even if they don’t know how much they mean to me.” 

The last part was mumbled but he knew as he looked back up at you that you had heard, knowing it was meant for you. For the first time since you arrived you gave Peter a genuine smile and blushed. 

The tradition continued around the table, Peter didn’t really pay attention until it came to your turn. You cleared your throat and blushed a darker shade of red. 

“I-I’m thankful for…” You paused for a moment to think before smiling at the table. “I’m thankful for my friends, old and new.” Your eyes lingered on Peter who smiled back before you looked at Steve. Peter’s heart fell again. He knew it was stupid to read into things and feel jealous but he couldn’t help it. Ned gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Hey Peter, do you wanna pull the wishbone?” May asked, holding the bone up and knowing it was one of his favourite traditions they did together. He nodded and came over to take the bone. 

“Can I do it too? 

Peter looked up in surprise at your question and bit his lip. May nodded and smiled at you as you walked over and took the other side of the bone. Peter blushed as you smirked at him.

“Ready, Parker?” 

He smiled at the sense of normality between you and nodded, smirking back as he held the wishbone tighter. 

“Bring it on.” 

May counted down before you both started pulling the bone, trying to break it. You both laughed at the small tug of war that was happening until you finally pulled back with the bigger half. You looked shocked and furrowed your brow at Peter, knowing he had been holding back to let you win.

Peter just smiled innocently and shrugged. You let out a giggle before feeling a kiss on your cheek as Steve walked over. 

“Woo! Well done Y/n!” 

“Oh, um thank you.” You blushed hard and gave a laugh as you looked at him. Peter watched the scene before him, feeling his blood start to boil as well as the ache starting in his chest. He clenched up again and although Ned tried to distract him he couldn't take it and excused himself for air.

He stepped out onto the fire escape away from the rest of the party and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He almost wished he’d gotten the bigger half of the wishbone then maybe his wish would come true. He wished that everything would go back to normal before he had said that lie to Flash all the way back in February and before he had fallen in love with you. 

“Pete?” 

He quickly straightened himself up as he heard your voice and wiped his eyes, trying to keep the emotion out his voice. 

“Um, hey.”

“What’s wrong?” You squeezed next to him on the fire escape and looked out at the city before turning your worried gaze to him. “And before you say nothing, I know you Peter.” 

He sighed and blushed, thankful for the darkness of the night as you kept your gaze on him. He heard Steve ask where you were and felt the jealousy come back to him. 

“What’s wrong?” He gave a forced chuckle. “If you wanna know what’s wrong why don’t you ask your new boyfriend?” Peter spoke bitterly, keeping his gaze on the city. You scoffed and looked at Peter as if you couldn’t believe what he was saying. 

“Are you serious right now? You’re jealous?” Peter didn’t answer, instead giving you the cold shoulder and clenching his jaw again. “You’re the one who left me at that party!” 

“I know!” Peter huffed and threw his hands up in exasperation, finally looking at you. “You think I wanted to do that?!” 

“Yeah, I know,” you snapped, rolling your eyes. “Spidey stuff is more important. But it still sucked, Peter. It hurt because I thought that maybe you wanted to go on an actual date with me.” 

“I did want to!” he yelled, frustrated.”Don’t you get it?” Peter looked at you like a sad lost puppy, begging for forgiveness. 

“Get what?” 

Peter gulped and sighed, kicking his feet and staring at the ground below. 

“N-nothing,” he grumbled. “Go back to the party and be with Steve. Maybe you’ll get it with him.” You stared at him in bewilderment and confusion, furrowing your brow. 

“Peter, what are you talking about?!” you yelled, growing angrier by the second. “You’re acting like a jealous boyfriend. It’s not like we ever really dated!”

“You don’t have to remind me.” Peter spoke through gritted teeth, glaring at you before he shook his head. “Forget it.” 

You were taken aback by his behaviour as he went back inside and stormed to his room, ignoring your calls of his name. You stayed outside for a moment after he left, wiping your eyes and regaining your composure before heading inside. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Steve asked you, worriedly resting his hand on your shoulder. You nodded and let out a sniffle, shrugging his hand away.

“I’m fine.” 

You noticed that almost everyone in the room was looking at you since they had probably heard the argument outside and it only made you feel worse. May tried to comfort you but you just thanked her before quickly grabbing your stuff and rushing out the door. May sighed once everyone had left, exchanging a worried look with Ned who had stayed to help clean up and talk to Peter. 

“How is he?” 

Ned shrugged and sighed as he walked out of Peter’s room. 

“Not great,” he admitted. “He barely said two words to me.” 

May finished washing up the plates and let out a deep sigh. It had been Ned’s idea to invite you, hoping that getting you both in the same room would at least start you on the path to being friends again. May was eager to play along and get you two talking again, but after hearing your fight on the fire escape she couldn’t help but think they had only made things worse. 

Meanwhile, Peter was still in his room and screaming into his pillow. He knew he was acting stupid but his feelings just kept getting stronger. He didn’t want to lose you but the more he tried to fix things the more he failed; the carnival, your birthday, the Halloween party. It felt like all he had done all year. He’d screwed everything up and you were all he could think about as he fell asleep that night, your contact open on his phone.

---------

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[echo-three-one]

The strongest lead toward Shepherd that will lead them to Nero. (honestly I can't think of better summaries lately. I hope you're still enjoying THE ROAD SO FAR (CUE carry on my wayward son)

Table of Contents

Previous Chapter : If I Remember Correctly

Chapter 22 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️ Look how far we've come!

Going Dark - Part 1

"Alex"

Safe House 110197, Brazil

Alex woke up to the smell of Samantha's shampoo. God, she smelled so beautiful. He thought as he shifted his position carefully, trying not to disturb his sleeping girl.

Samantha caught wind of his actions and turned back to him. 

"Good Morning." Alex greeted with the most wholesome and lovable smile he could ever conjure. He could see Samantha actually blush at his smile, meaning that his charm still worked toward her even after all those times.

"Good Morning… you-" She greeted back but Alex immediately met her lips with his, turning a simple morning greeting into a hot make out session. Samantha ran her hand across his arm down to his chest, pushing the tough muscle as her eyes slowly closed, enjoying the way Alex's mouth moved inside hers.

"I wish I could just sit out this mission and stay here with you…" he mused, tapping her nose and smiling.

"You go out there and fix the world, hero. I'll be here when you get back." She winked as Alex slowly got up and left the room, his eyes never leaving hers until he was out of sight.

Alex stepped out of the stairs to the view of Price complaining about the water. Roach was already shuffling to the kitchen to satisfy their Captain's needs. This gave Alex the chance to check on Maxine.

"How are you holding up, Maxine." He asked.

"What's wrong, lass?" Price inserted sipping his morning coffee.

"Hey Alex, Captain Price…" She greeted, her voice was shaky but she looked like she had the courage to respond.

"I had a strange dream last night… I believe it was one of my memories." She spoke softly. Price and Alex's face lit up.

"That's good news!" Alex cheered, shaking her shoulders and quickly withdrawing his hands as soon as it felt awkward.

"Good on ya, lass. Cheers to that!" He raised his mug and nodded.

"Captain Price." Another familiar voice interrupted behind them.

"I have intel on Shadow Company." Ghost announced, everyone fell silent and they immediately gathered around the command center. Soap and France followed as they walked down the stairs together.

"Three addresses in three separate London Apartments." he informed while typing furiously across the keyboard. The map had three yellow blinking dots, two of them were close to each other while one was far away.

"Intel says they're not sure which of these had a Shadow Company residing in it. They're most probably on leave and might be armed." Ghost added, showing three faces of men which were presumed targets for intel.

"Where'd you get these? They look like very classified information." Price asked, crossing his arms and looking at Ghost.

"Let's just say I know someone." he replies smugly.

"And why would we follow such a lead?" Jack added, making the situation very awkward for the rest of the team.

"Is this…" Soap tried to insert.

"Yes, Soap. It's interpol." he finished. The rest of the team looked at each other.

"They wanted to investigate more on the Shadow Company. But since they aren't authorized to act on it, all they do is gather information. Which is frustrating-" Ghost complained but got cut off by Price.

"They're asking for our help because we're rogue. No rules, no anything…" He stated the bitter tone in his voice was too clear.

"We can't just casually fly to London, right? Who's helping us?" Alex stated the larger problem at hand. If this lead is solid enough, they have to act on it.

"Nikolai could fly us in. I could pull a few favors from S.A.S. but they're going to have to be sneaky to let us land there. We can't forget the fact that we're fugitives. I mean, Shepherd only put Me, Alex, Soap, Ghost and Roach on his list." Price said.

"My dream of being wanted came true in the worst way possible." Soap cracked a joke to lighten up the mood. It obviously worked except for Jack, who always never gets the humor.

They continued briefing, planning the route that they would take saving the most time. Which weapons to use and other protocols to follow. 

~

"Saving the world once again, my hero?" Samantha leaned on him as he continuously flicked Soap's lighter.

"Stop calling me that. I'm no hero. I'm just trying to set things back the way they were." 

"Like what heroes do." Samantha chuckled sitting next to him and rested her head on his lap.

"My Dad probably misses me so much." She sighed, looking at Alex as he looked down on her, his fingers played with her hair.

"If we could find the perfect time, we could tell him you're safe. It's unfair how the whole world thinks we took you as a hostage." he complained.

"Well, when you think of it I really am a prisoner here." she mused as Alex's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Then once his brain cells finally agreed, he smiled and laughed.

"Oh I get it." he reached for her hand and put it close in his heart. 

"You're trapped in here aren't you." they both laughed.

"That's so corny, right?" Samantha giggled.

"Yeah. It is." Alex replied as they continued to spend the rest of the few hours they had together before flying to the Majesty's domain.

LONDON

UNITED KINGDOM

Price wasn't able to land on the S.A.S. base, but they did assist the rogue team to land on an open area not too far from the base and Nikolai seemed to be fine with it. The team borrowed MacMillan's jeep and took the road less traveled to the city. 

Everyone looked alert and worried, this was a risky move but it was all they had to get to Shepherd, to get to Nero.

They drove as fast as they legally could, knowing that their faces wouldn't be recognized by anyone until Ghost distributed his extra skull masks, which allowed them to move freely across the streets of the nearest target location.

The first apartment room was located on the third floor, that meant they had to ascent two flights of stairs without raising suspicion. Ghost immediately worked his way to the basement and disabled the lights.

A quick flicker and the building's lights immediately shut off, making some of the tenants scream in surprise. It was time to move.

The team slowly crept the stairs, their steps were light enough that they could only hear faint creaking. Price led the line as they cleared the hallway all the way up to the third. 

Alex was behind Price as he saw the target room's door was slightly ajar. It's either they're lucky he forgot to lock it or they were too late. Proceeding with extreme caution, Price swung the door open and continued to scour the room for the guy. 

"Right door, clear." Price announced as everyone scattered around to look for intel. Jack searched the closets hoping that clues were left behind inside pockets. Roach looked for the drawers while Price and Alex looked for clues of possible escape. 

"Someone's going up to this floor." Soap whispered as he signaled the team to remain quiet. He was by the door on lookout for the team.

Complete silence. Alex could only hear his breathing and his heartbeat as the person walked past the hall, not minding the open room he just passed through.

They took a few more minutes of intel gathering until they ultimately decided to call it off. It was a dead lead.

"Two more houses." Ghost announced as the team silently regrouped by the car where Nikolai was waiting. The lights immediately returned as soon as they set foot on the vehicle.

"I sure hope we get something from the next house." Roach wished as they drove to the next location.

The second location almost had the same layout. They did the same plan but this time Alex and Soap switched roles. Guard duty was significantly harder when it's dark and Alex did his best to heighten his senses. 

Signs of struggle were heard from the inside and Alex assumed they finally identified one of the targets. He could hear the person's groans and struggles as well as his team working hard to constrain the person.

"Ghost. It looks like they got him." Alex reported as he could hear Ghost working on something. Then in just a flash, the lights turned back on along with a loud booming sound of Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up". Alex entered the room and looked at the poor guy being surrounded by his squad. He was trying to scream for help but Rick Astley begged to differ. 

"We're just here for one simple question…

WHERE. IS. SHEPHERD?" Price roared. The guy didn't easily give in. He just shook his head and continued to struggle free. Jack immediately pulled his hand and placed some pliers in between the hostage's fingers.

"Isn't that a little bit too harsh?" Soap whispered to Roach, who just shrugged.

"What's harsh is that they used an innocent daughter as bait." Jack slowly squeezed the pliers making the hostage scream. 

"AAAAAAAAAH." He squirmed making the rest of the team hold him tight. Alex had his eyes set on the door as neighbors started to complain about the booming music.

He squirmed enough that it activated something in his pocket, a smartphone whose light shone through the fabric of his pants. Then in a flash, a small scale EMP blast rendered the whole building quiet. All electrical devices were disabled and Alex and the team found themselves kneeling as the loud ringing triggered their ears.

None of them were too quick to react as their hostage looked like he wasn't affected by the blast. He bolted toward the exit and Alex attempted to grab him by the foot, only for him to effortlessly shrug him off and stomp on him, causing him to roll in pain.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Soap follow along with Roach, who were still holding their ears and wincing from the pain of the ringing. 

Next Chapter : Going Dark - Part 2

Notification Squad my Beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee @enderio @whimsywispsblog @beemybee @ricinbach

[punz4lyfe]

Wasted Plotential: Journeys Episode 68 (Part 2)

Part 2: Gary and the Moltres Battle

Picking off where the last part ended up on, the episode begins with Ash and Goh searching around the woods for Infernape. As the two call out his name, Staraptor soars through and Buizel uses the rivers to search at areas far off from his trainer. As they search, Goh remarks how impossible it’s gonna be to find Infernape in such a dense forest without any signs, but Ash reassures him that they can do it. He also admits he isn’t too surprised of Infernape continuing to train by himself, stating how much battling means to the Pokemon while flashbacking to some of Infernape’s most proudest battles, such as Candice’s Abomasnow and Volkner’s Luxray.

After recalling those moments, Ash meets up with Staraptor and Buizel who both confirm their lack of signs for their former comrade. Thanking them for their efforts, Ash returns them into their Pokeballs so they could rest up and that’s when Goh notices a nearby Pidgeotto. Just like in the original episode, Goh fails to capture it, as well as the Onix encountered afterwards, leading to two to get saved by Gary and his Blastoise.

Gary’s interactions with Ash and Goh in the og episode were honestly REALLY good, and so for the sake of padding out runtime, events of the episode will play out as they did in the original while expanding a bit more on the dialogue. For example, perhaps Gary could point out Goh’s flaw of recklessly throwing Pokeballs at Pokemon without weakening them first. While Goh would state that his approach has been successful most of the time, Gary would rebuttal that maybe he’s just been lucky this whole time. Or when talking about Project Mew, Gary could mention some of his past missions to fill up Goh’s own interest more. Maybe, as a reference to Goh’s Suicune, Gary could have had encounters with Entei, Raikou, and a different Suicune, stating he had to retrieve samples of Entei’s fire, Raikou’s electricity (it’s pokemon dont question it), and Suicune’s water in order to pass. Additionally, prior to this mission, he’s also succeeded in gaining feathers from an Articuno and Zapdos. Of course, as he explains what he’s done so far, Ash will be impressed and state how proud and happy he is for Gary for being able to take part in such experiences, sparking up Goh’s jealousy even further.

As the three make their way to the mountain where Moltres and Infernape are up, Goh, due to his lackluster physique compared to Ash and Gary, accidentally winds falling in a river and risking him and Grookey falling down a waterfall. Ash prepares to send out Buizel to rescue them, but Gary insists to leave it to Blastoise due to his stronger and bulkier body. As Blastoise makes his way towards Gary and Grookey, the two end up falling over, but Blastoise leaps off and catches them in time before he starts to swim UP the waterfall to get them all back to safety. The rescue is a success and the plot moves on.

Again, things play out the same way at the peak, but when Ash and Infernape reunite, we get a more wholesome-ish hug with Ash happily spinning Infernape around, just as they hugged after their fight against Volkner. Ash also formally introduces Infernape to Goh and Grookey, with the latter having a huge admiration for the taller, stronger, more experienced primate as Infernape pets his head in a friendly manner.

And that, my friends, is when Moltres appears. Instead of everyone taking turns for no good reason, the encounter is instantly declared a Raid Battle (just as Ash, Goh, and Team Rocket did with Zapdos), with Ash using Infernape, Goh sending out Cinderace, and Gary sending out Blastoise. At the beginning, all three of them rely on ranged attacks to keep a safe distance, but Moltres’ speed proves near-impossible to land a good hit as it moves in closer to the three mons, forcing them to rely on physical moves. As a demonstration of Infernape’s greater power compared Cinderace’s, when Cinderace tries to attack Moltres with a Blaze Kick, it gets effortlessly blocked, but then Infernape goes in for a Mach Punch and actually does some damage to it, which slightly annoys Cinderace. Additionally, Cinderace attempts to block an incoming Air Slash with Pyro Ball, but that fails and causes him to get badly hurt. Moltres then tries another Air Slash to finish Cinderace off, but Infernape quickly steps in between the attack and Cinderace to intercept it with Flamethrower, this time completely cancelling it.

Despite this, Cinderace finds himself too exhausted to get up, forcing Goh to. withdraw from the Raid Battle as he brings Cinderace out of the battlefield for his safety. After performing more or less the same way he did in the original episode, Blastoise attempts to take down Moltres with Hydro Cannon (because why the fuck would nerf that down to Water Pulse while Infernape’s Sinnoh moveset remained the same?!), but Moltres avoids the attack and, because of Blastoise needing to recharge and already being in a fatigued state from rescuing Goh and Grookey, takes down the Water-type with Air Slash, making Blastoise’s defeat a little less contrived and a little less bullshit. Gary recalls Blastoise and, desperate to succeed in his mission, prepares to send out Electivire while offering Goh to borrow his Umbreon, but Ash requests for them not to, knowing how much this battle means to Infernape and that he believes they will finish the job for Gary’s sake. Understanding Ash’s reasoning, Gary withdraws, as well as Goh after he retrieves a supportive look from Grookey, who also wants to see his new idol win by himself.

So now it’s just Infernape against Moltres. While careful to avoid any Air Slashes, Ash and Infernape deliberately rush in to take potshots while occasionally managing to deal in good hits with Flare Blitz, Flamethrower, and Mach Punch. They also use Dig to either avoid powerful blows or use the debris to eliminate a Fire Spin. However, Gary and Goh are confused why Ash and Infernape are now behaving more recklessly, but then Gary soon realizes what the two are trying to do. Just after Goh asks him on what he means by that, his attention is instantly taken back to Infernape when they see him get hit by a powerful Burn Up attack, taking away Moltres’ Fire-typing.

However, Infernape is not done yet. This is exactly where he and Ash wanted to land at. His body glows red. He gets back to his feet. And with a roar of pride and power, Infernape’s head flame ignites to severe proportions. Just as Gary notes; Infernape’s Blaze has been activated, shocking Goh and Cinderace as Grookey cheers loudly for Infernape, as does Pikachu nearby Ash. Ash smirks confidently before he asks Infernape if he’s ready to end this. Infernape replies with another roar and Ash tells him to use Flamethrower. Moltres attempts to cancel it with Fire Spin, but Infernape’s flame only eats up Moltres’ before landing its mark. Moltres quickly flies back up and uses Fire Spin again, this time working as Infernape slowly takes damage from the surrounding flames. With its opponent trapped, Moltres uses Air Slash to finish up, but on Ash’s command, Infernape simply uses a rapid series of Mach Punch to block every single air... wave... slash... thing.

And now it’s time to end things. Ash tells Infernape to use Flare Blitz and Infernape uses his heightened head flame to absorb Moltres’ Fire Spin, adding it to his own power, and takes off towards the legendary bird as a humongous fire ball of rage. The attacks hit down on, causing a huge explosion that heavily damages Moltres and causes it to drop a feather, which Gary notices. Now realizing it stands no chance against Infernape, Moltres uses Burn Up again to briefly light the area and disorientate everyone else on the mountain before taking off. But despite Moltres’ retreat, Infernape feels completely satisfied from the fight, as it shows with a victorious Flamethrower to the air. Blaze then deactivates, but Ash catches Infernape before he could collapse, telling him how proud he is and that he practically won due to Moltres’ retreating. Grookey then quickly approaches Infernape with sparkly eyes full of admiration with Goh and Cinderace joining them as the former supports Ash’s statement on Infernape’s technical victory. Gary retrieves the Moltres feather, passes his mission, and they all return to the lab.

Once again, events and dialogue play out the same only with Tracey involved as well. Gary leaves, Goh decides to join Project Mew, and now, Ash tells his current team that it’s time to go back to Cerise’s, so they all say goodbye to their new friends. Dragonite tearfully hugs Charizard, who returns the gesture while lightly patting his back with a sympathetic expression. Gengar shares one last laugh with Glalie. Lucario shakes hands with Sceptile. Dracovish happily gets hugged by Totodile and Gible. And Sirfetch’d... ends up getting attacked by Bayleef’s Vine Whip and Oshawott’s Razor Shell as revenge for preventing from hugging Ash earlier.

The episode ends with Goh using his Rotom Phone to take an updated version of Best Wishes final group photo, with Ash and Pikachu sitting at the middle while surrounded by all of his Pokemon at Oak’s lab and his current team. Special notices go to Infernape sitting next to Ash, one arm wrapped around shoulder and giving a thumbs up with the other hand, Lucario and Sceptile standing back-to-back against each other with crossed arms and confident smirks, and Totodile and Gible both posing on top of the ever-so-jolly Dracovish. This photo is also the final frame as well because it would make sense for one of the hype points of the episode to be the focal point of how things end off instead of Goh and Grookey for no reason.

And yeah, that’s how’ll I would rewrite Episode 68. Events still play out more or less the same, only with more time focused on certain points to expand interaction and dynamics. Thanks for reading and, since this is basically my first real rewrite project, feel free to tell me your thoughts on it!

[babycracker]

Echoes In The Forest - Chapter 11

None of Unit Bravo know what to expect when they're sent overseas for a mission. Surprises await them in the Black Forest, but perhaps Adam stands to find out more about himself than he's ever bargained for.

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Female Detective/Adam, Female Detective/Mason Word Count: ~3k Warnings: None

You can find this chapter on AO3 here. Start from the beginning here.

--

If things had been awkward with Adam before, now they were disastrous and Jordan found herself wishing for the first time since meeting Unit Bravo - including the time she’d been captured by Murphy - that she’d never met them. 

He wasn’t exactly making things pleasant for her since their moment, as she was convinced that it was the moment after the feeding rather than the feeding itself that had made him so distant. He’d kissed her neck, both of them apparently so distracted by what had just happened to realise that it was happening until his lips had made contact with hers, snapping them both out of it.

She has no way of knowing what it was like for him, because he refuses to speak to her, but she knows that she felt more than she was expecting to. She’d been prepared for the physical pain, prepared for the feeling of helplessness that had washed over her before she sternly reminded herself that she trusted that Adam wouldn’t hurt her. She hadn’t been prepared to find herself close to tears over the emotional pain she felt. Not her pain, but it might as well have been for how hard it had hit her.

He had unknowingly left some of his sadness behind in her and it breaks her heart. She doesn’t know what memories are causing the sadness that she feels, but she knows it’s deep and destructive and she can already feel it festering away inside of her. She can only imagine how bad it is for Adam to live with the full brunt of this, day in and day out.

She glances up as Felix comes and sits beside her on the edge of the stump she’d sat on with Adam the other day. He’s grinning at her, but she can see the concern in his eyes as plain as day.

“How you goin’ trooper?”

He slings an arm over her shoulders as he asks, his fingers rubbing at her bicep lightly and she can tell that he’s subtly trying to put her at ease.

“Trooper?”

“Yeah, because you're handling everything like a champ. We all kinda thought you’d be a bit of a basket case after, you know.”

“Who says I’m not?”

He jerks a thumb towards himself and his grin widens, his arm dropping from around her shoulders.

“Me. Haven’t you heard that I’m the most perceptive one here?”

“It’s been mentioned, yes.”

She laughs lightly, going along with his attempts to cheer her up.

“How are you really, though?”

“I’m okay.”

The answer falls from her lips almost as though she were on autopilot, and she’s not sure if it’s the truth. She’s confused about the bizarre connection that seemed to have been forged between her and Adam without even of them expecting it, confused about the brief kiss, angry that he won’t speak to her, and absolutely clueless about what to do with these feelings of sadness that have been forced upon her.

“I’m not okay. I feel… lost.”

She admits after a moment of silence, Felix apparently not believing her first answer anyway and staying quiet as he waits for her to say more. She looks back up at him and he’s watching her carefully, a hint of a smile still on his face but now it’s pretty much overshadowed by the worry creasing his brow.

“Lost?”

“I have all this, stuff now. I don’t know what to do with it.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Feelings. His feelings.”

The smile fades completely and Felix frowns at her.

“Adam’s feelings?”

“I think? I don’t know. While he was… it was like being in his head. I don’t know where any of it came from but I could feel everything, and some of it’s still in here.”

She presses a hand to her chest, then lets out a heavy sigh and looks down at the ground. She knows she’s not making any sense, but how is she supposed to explain this?

“That’s pretty rare.”

Felix admits after a moment, and she looks up at him in surprise. Not the response she’d been expecting. He shifts to the side to face her properly, casting a quick look around them as though he’s not sure if he should be telling her what he’s about to tell her.

“I expected this from Adam. Doing that, it would’ve been like it tapped him straight into your, what’s the word? Consciousness? It fades off after a while, but it’s rare for a human to experience the same thing at all.”

“Is it because of my blood?”

Felix pulls an uncertain face, moving his hand in a so-so motion in front of him.

“Maybe. Doubt it, though. You don’t get in unless we want you to.”

“What does that mean?”

Suddenly his face changes into an uncomfortable expression, almost guilty, as though realising that he’s said too much.

“You should be talking to Adam about this, sorry.”

He gets to his feet abruptly and gives her an apologetic smile.

“No, wait. Are you saying he let me in on purpose?”

He’s already backing away from her.

“I, um. I can’t really answer this stuff. You really need to talk to him.”

He turns and all but runs off, and she stares after him with a frown on her face. What the fuck? She looks around the camp, seeing Adam as far away from her as he can possibly get without disappearing completely into the woods. Like he has been all afternoon. Letting out a heavy sigh she hauls herself to her feet and trudges over to him, more determined than ever now to find out what the hell is going on with her.

--

Adam can hear her footsteps before he even bothers to turn and see her coming towards him. That, and he’s been hyper focused on her heart beat and her scent since he had her in his arms and it’s starting to get on his nerves.

Why had he agreed to this? And more importantly, what had possessed him to kiss her once it was over? That’s all it is, this feeling of her crawling through his veins that refuses to leave him alone. It’s all because he lingered for too long, held her for too long, kept his mouth on her for too long, then allowed her lips to come into contact with his.

He knows it’s more than that, deep down. More than regret and shock and dwelling over one brief moment. He can still feel her because she’s still right there, under his skin. He pretends that he can only sense her presence moving towards him because of her blood, all of his senses are heightened so it makes sense that he can feel the shift in the air when she stands up all that distance away. He knows it’s not the entire reason, but he’s never been so determined to pretend that he can sense less than he actually can.

“Can we talk?”

He sucks in a deep breath, closing his eyes as he holds it for a moment before exhaling slowly, preparing himself to turn and face her. She’s quieter than usual, her voice sounds uncertain. Almost scared. He spins to face her, aviators covering his eyes as he gives her a once over.

“Of course.”

She looks to the side where Nate is standing not far away then turns back towards him, but she’s not looking at him. She’s looking at the ground in front of him and he clenches his jaw to keep his composure as his heart sinks. This is what they are now. She’s afraid of him. She’s realised that he is the monster that she always insisted she didn’t see him as and she doesn’t want to be alone with him.

“In private?”

Oh. Well, that’s unexpected. He gives a stiff nod and follows her when she turns and heads back towards the tent, hesitating when she drops to her knees and crawls inside but then going in after her a few seconds later.

“Something on your mind?”

He’s grateful his voice isn’t shaking as much as his inner thoughts seem to be as he sits as far away from her as possible.

“You’re on my mind.”

Usually he’s impressed by the way she doesn’t beat around the bush, she’s always straight to the point. Right now though, he could use a little beating. He suppresses a groan at the thought, he can practically hear Mason’s crude response in his head when it enters his mind.

“Oh?”

“Literally. Like you’ve deposited a mini Adam inside of my head and he’s set up shop in there and he's drip feeding me your emotions.”

Oh. 

Well, this is a complication. It was bad enough that even when he thought it was one sided he was having trouble shaking the connection. It’s an entirely different matter if she feels it as well. She’d told him that she felt sadness and something else, but he’d brushed it off as temporary insanity. Brief madness in the form of her rambling about nonsense. If she still remembers and feels those things though…

But he didn’t let her in. He can’t have. He wouldn’t have. Except that it seems very much like he did, the way she’s looking at him like she’s finally really seeing him after all this time. He should be happy about it, really. He'd spent decades and then some wishing for someone to look at him the way Jordan is right now before he gave up, assuming that he would never again find it.

But now that he has, and she is, he doesn’t want it. Because now he remembers that people really seeing him and him letting people in never ends well, and he will not be responsible for something happening to Jordan. He’d already considered letting his guard down with her, and she’d been kidnapped by Murphy. He needs to explain her side effects away effectively enough that she’ll push them away all on her own. She will stop seeing him if she decides that he isn’t worth seeing.

“Care to explain?”

She prods once she decides that he’s been silent for too long, and he sighs in annoyance.

“How am I to explain to you why your mind is doing the things it is doing?”

“I mean, you kind of had a part in it.”

“You were insistent on one of us feeding, Detective. You were insistent on me feeding, and you told me that you’d researched. Surely somewhere in your research you came across material advising you that humans may experience temporary bouts of mental instability for a short period thereafter?”

Instantly he knows that he’s said the wrong thing, and he’s fairly certain he doesn’t need any kind of special connection to her for it to be obvious. She no longer appears afraid or nervous. Now she’s livid, glaring at him with her hands balled into fists by her sides.

“Du Mortain, you did not just call me crazy.”

“Correct, I did not. It is not my intention to start an argument with you."

He sighs out but her glare doesn't fade and he takes a long breath, willing himself the strength to deal with the mood she's apparently in.

"You know what, forget it. I thought we could have a civilised conversation about it but if you’re just gonna dismiss everything I say as being crazy then I'm not doing this with you right now.”

“Detective Mills-”

A noisy sigh cuts him off and her glare deepens, if that were possible.

“I thought we had more of an understanding now.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because I have more of an understanding of you. I thought it was mutual, but apparently not.”

He stares at her in uncertainty for a moment as she pauses, watching him and waiting for a response. A part of him wants to tell her it is mutual, spilling his guts and telling her that he feels infinitely closer to her already and that he’s only growing more connected to her every minute that she is near to him.

The other part, the rational, hardened and professional part of him knows that nothing good would come of such a confession. Best case it would make her pity him. It would make her realise that the feelings she experienced from him are true, and he would be forever weakened in her eyes. Worst case, she would mistake it as a chance - however slight - for them to become even closer. For them to someday become more than mere teammates. He knows how humans' thought processes work, full of hope however false. Clinging onto whatever outrageous idea that they find appealing and holding on tight. She would imagine that there is some kind of a future for them, and he knows how persistent and relentless she is once she decides that she wants something.

No, telling her anything now would be disastrous for Unit Bravo. The awkwardness that would settle between him and Jordan would tear them apart, not to mention Mason. 

Mason. He had been completely forgetting Mason’s relationship with her in the midst of everything that had happened between them today, and guilt tugs at his gut hard enough to make him feel ill.

He might not approve of their casual relationship, and while it is unlikely that Mason actually feels anything for Jordan, the miniscule possibility that he might has Adam despising the feelings for her that have been slowly creeping up on him. Creeping so slowly that he didn’t even realise they were there until today when he had her in his arms. The thought of betraying one of his closest friends in such a way makes the decision for him and he gives a short nod.

“It would seem not. Whatever connection you feel you have with me will fade by the end of the day and tomorrow you will be grateful that I have not allowed you to act on it.”

He ignores the hurt that flashes in her eyes, looking away from her and staring past her at a random spot on the side of the tent.

“You’re an asshole.”

She mutters before crawling back out of the tent and trudging away, shoulders slumped and head hanging. He did that. He hurt her before he was even in a real position to hurt her properly. Yet he still managed it. And that is why there could never be anything between them. That is why he must shove these new - or perhaps not so new - feelings as far down as he can until they are forgotten like so many others.

--

She doesn't speak to Adam again for the rest of the day, and he can't tell whether he's happy about it or not. He is, he decides. He has to be. Because he doesn't know if he can handle causing the depth of hurt that he'd seen in her eyes earlier today.

He and Nate are standing either side of the entrance to the tent while Jordan sleeps inside. There'd been no playful banter coming from within tonight, there'd been only silence, she hadn't even returned the disconnected "goodnight Detective" that he'd muttered as she'd made her way past him into the tent.

His thoughts are quickly turned away from how she is acting towards him when he hears Felix yell for him. It's the moment of truth. The moment they find out whether feeding from Jordan was worth it.

"Adam, over here!"

He casts a quick glance in Nate's direction before running in Felix's direction, the look on his friend's face matching his own. If this hasn't worked, then all the awkwardness now between him and Jordan, all the pain he'd unknowingly caused her, it was all for nothing and they're out of ideas.

"What is it?"

He asks as he stops beside Felix, who almost excitedly points in the direction of the forest. Adam can tell he's happy to potentially have someone able to help him with this enemy, but his heart sinks when he looks in the direction he's pointing and sees nothing but trees.

He takes a few steps forward, already knowing it's useless but hoping all the same that he's just somehow missed Erlking to the darkness.

"You were right in front of him. He took off."

Felix speaks up forlornly behind him, a heavy sigh accompanying his words. Adam spins to face him, offering a sympathetic frown.

"I am sorry, Felix. I saw nothing."

He feels badly for Felix it’s true, but his heart sinks even further when he imagines the reaction Jordan will have in the morning when she discovers that what they’d done was useless. Felix forces a strained smile back to his face and makes an attempt at a careless shrug.

“Hey on the bright side, we got to him before Jordan got up this time.”

He points out and Adam gives a stiff nod, his fists clenching at his sides as his disappointment gives way to anger and frustration. He turns back around and marches back to camp, coming to stand beside Nate at the tent.

“Did it work?”

Nate asks hesitantly, undoubtedly already knowing the answer just by the look on Adam’s face. He shakes his head, not trusting himself to say the words out loud lest he lose control of his emotions and say something foolish. Thankfully, Nate seems to know better than to say anything more, he just lets out a heavy sigh and walks a few steps away to leave Adam in peace.

--

Felix watches Adam go, the forced smile fading from his face before he turns back to the woods. He glances around quickly before jogging just beyond where the woods begin to grow thicker beyond the clearing they’ve made camp in.

“I know you’re still here.”

He calls, surprising himself with the annoyance he hears in his own voice. Sure enough he hears a twig breaking to his right and he whirls around to see a short and surprisingly frail looking figure walking towards him. He takes a nervous step backwards and a light chuckle sounds from within the black cloak.

“You need not fear me, vampire. I have no use for you.”

“Why couldn’t he see you?”

“The human’s blood made him stronger, yes. But it cannot make him see what is not meant for his eyes.”

Felix huffs out a frustrated sigh and turns away to head back towards camp.

“It will be over soon, Tai.”

Erlking calls after him and Felix stops dead mid-step, looking over his shoulder.

“What did you call me?”

Pale hands reach up to remove the hood from Erlking’s head and he gives him a sympathetic smile.

“That is your name, is it not?”

“Not anymore.”

Erlking hums thoughtfully before slinking backwards into the black of the forest and disappearing again and Felix frowns to himself before trudging back to camp, surprised to see Adam standing just beyond the tree line, looking uncharacteristically confused.

“I heard that. From the tent.”

He says simply, and Felix’s eyes widen.

“You did?”

“He called you Tai, correct?”

Felix nods, a smile returning to his face and resisting the urge to bounce up and down on the balls of his feet in excitement. So maybe the feeding hadn’t worked in the way they had hoped. Maybe Adam still can’t see Erlking. But he can hear him, which is better than anything they had before. Maybe they have a chance at catching this thing after all.

--

Tags: @admdmrtn @mmerengue @adamdumorpain @masonsfangs @oxjenayxo @bravomckenzie @daisydumortain Thanks for reading! Let me know if you’d like to be removed from/added to the tag list!

[illprotectyou-hearteyes]

I didn’t get around to writing a role reversal fic, but I took notes on how I imagined it playing out, so I’m cleaning those up to post here :)

I. Ethan the Tech:

In the films Benji is known for his extremely high turnaround rate in addition to his skill. I don’t necessarily think that’s the case for Ethan as a tech; he’s not especially fast, he just Does Not Give Up. The IMF gives him the projects the other techs have declared impossible, because he will keep working at them until he finds a solution or they decide they need him for something else and tear the project from his hands. (He actually has a pretty impressive turnover rate as well, but that has less to do with speed than with the frankly horrifying number of hours he works).

In a similar vein, Ethan didn’t start out at the top of his class. No one picked him out as a natural talent at tech work, because frankly, he wasn’t. He became one of the best through sheer Tenacity. 

He’s pretty discontent as a tech, though. He enjoys the work itself well enough, but from the start he’s disturbed by how little information they’re given regarding the context and purpose of the projects they work on, and one day when he pulls on a loose thread he learns some horrifying secrets about what the IMF is willing to do. After that he tries to figure out the context of each project and does the occasional tampering when he sees fit, but the IMF is paranoid about people like him and keep their techs in a stranglehold to prevent it. So there’s only so much Ethan can do, and he is in a constant state of guilt/anxiety that whatever he is currently working on will be used for harm.

His inspiration for joining the field is a pretty direct reversal of the film. Through some series of events Benji asks him to do something ... not strictly on the books, and Ethan not only does it but positively jumps on the chance. That’s what gets into his head that field work would force the IMF to give him all the information relative to the missions he worked (this proves only half-true at best; but this is still a relatively young and innocent Ethan), and that it would put him in a position to directly affect how the IMF’s orders are carried out. And if it means getting to work with the IMF super-agent who is always failing so endearingly to present the cool and collected image that’s expected from him and who has about as little respect for the agency as Ethan himself, well. He’s not about to object.

II. Benji the Field Agent

This Benji is a better fighter than his film counterpart due to his training having been more focused on it/more experience, but it’s far from his greatest asset. What really made him a legend in the IMF was his analytical skills and the creativity of his problem-solving—where others are stuck on protocol and rote strategy, Benji approaches each problem purely on its own terms. 

His survival and success is also aided considerably by the face that newer teammates are desperate to prove themselves to this IMF legend, while those who have known him for any period of time inevitably have their “MUST PROTECT AT ALL COSTS” instincts awakened at full force. They’d never let on, because he’d think it meant they saw him as a particularly vulnerable agent, when it really isn’t that at all. It’s rather something about how even this Benji dampened by trauma is so undisguisedly human; how he looks after them in a way the IMF never did; how for him this work is about doing good, not ‘doing the job’. He allows them to grasp back onto the hope of making the world better motivated them to become field agents in the first place before the IMF beat it out of them; he reminds them that the world is worth saving and in the process (accidentally) becomes, in their eyes, the most important one of all to save.

I kind of like the idea, though, that Benji does put on a bit of a show of being hardened, and on a verbal level he justifies his constant defiance of the IMF not on a moral basis but on the basis of their orders not making sense. Literally no one whose been on more than one mission with him believes this, but they let him pretend they do. Ethan has his suspicions from the start but has some level of anxiety that the facade might be the reality. If I was actually writing a fic it would lead to a more polished version of this exchange:

*Benji makes a choice that from a strategic perspective is completely illogical and is purely to reduce risk to civilians and/or team members* 

Ethan: But Benji, that … doesn’t make sense. 

Benji: I KNOW I KNOW. It’s about protecting people, okay?? 

Ethan: I knew it!! But then why … 

Benji: I have a reputation as the coolest agent in the IMF—don’t ask me why, I’ve got nothing—but that’s what gets me on the important missions, where I can really help. I can’t admit to such a sappy core motive. Besides, if the glove fits and all that. Incompetence drives me up one wall and down another. Everything we do is life and death, you’d think they’d hire people with half a brain!! But nooo [etc]” 

(at this point Ethan is spiraling about some mistake he made and whether Benji would judge him incompetent)

(spoiler alert he doesn’t)

(Ethan doesn’t bring up the mistake here, though. Instead): 

Ethan: Benji, despite how it’s going to sound I really really don’t mean this as an insult, but you suck at the ‘cool guy’ act. That’s not what people love you for.

(Benji pretends to be insulted but it’s actually the most touching thing anyone has ever said to him. He tries very hard to focus on that instead of the fact that Ethan maybe-possibly just implied he was one of the people who loves him. He fails)

III. Dynamic on Missions:

When Ethan joins the IMF, he takes “MUST PROTECT BENJI AT ALL COSTS” to a whole new level. When pressed he says it’s because Benji is so critical to the IMF’s work and because with how much he does to protect others, someone’s got to protect him. It’s a perfectly true answer, and if it’s also kind of because he might be a little head-over-heals-in-love, there’s no need to mention that detail.

This does NOT help with Benji’s guilt complex about having been a key factor in why Ethan transitioned from tech to the dangers and trauma of field work. (He knows about this because Ethan told him as much one day when Benji was feeling insecure about his abilities. The revelation might not have had the intended affect.)

Unfortunately Benji’s guilt and fear for Ethan (and maybe also definitely being wildly in love shhhhhh) leads to him convincing himself that Ethan is more of a tech person than a field agent, and while he’s invaluable to have on-hand in the field it only makes sense to keep out of the more heightened danger-spots. This is not only a miserable failure (Ethan has a habit of rushing in anyway, the most annoying part of which is that his judgement is usually good), but results in Ethan feeling like Benji doesn’t trust him and/or he’s doing something wrong, even though he can’t figure out what. This in turn results in him constantly trying to prove himself and making even riskier decisions.

Ummm stuff happens, they communicate and are happy, The End

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 9: Only Dreaming •

A/n: For those of you who might not have caught my announcement, this series has recently gotten a title change, and new cover as you might have noticed. Both of which I owe a big thanks to my good friend scamander [RichieTozierKaspbrak on Quotev] This is still the It rewrite, just under an official name: Scars That Heal. You can find the full explanation on my profile activity, anyways, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

    Silver’s tires skid across the cracked pavement creating a high screech that barely managed to pierce through the thunderous heartbeat in Bill’s ears. Before him, stood the Neibolt house, and despite his pounding heart, there was no sign of hesitation as he stormed across the pavement towards the gate. However, when his bruised and gangly legs reached the gate’s threshold, they slow as if he is suddenly standing in quicksand. His nerves have finally caught up to him but Bill does not allow this to stop him from his mission and continues across the crisp dry grass that crunches beneath his sneakers. As he walks, it feels as if he is now wading through an invisible pool, his muscles aching as they fight hard against the water. The technique turned mantra slipped from his lips the moment it popped into his mind as crosses the lawn and into the dark shadow the house casts over all of Neibolt.

    “H-he thr-thrusts his fists against the p-po-posts,” Bill’s clammy palms tighten, his mouth running dry but he continues. “and still insists he sees the g-gho-ghost.”

    He has reached the house’s rotten and creaky steps when he hears the approach of several bicycles and Beverly’s voice.

    “Bill!” She cries, jumping off her bike and it tumbles to the ground. “Bill, you can’t go in there. This is crazy!”

    He turns to find his seven distressed friends abandoning their bikes and following cautiously after him into the yard.

    “Look, you don’t have to come in with me,” Bill says, looking to each of his friends. “But what happens when another Georgie goes missing? Or another Betty? Or another Ed Corcoran? Or one of us?”

    The shadow of Neibolt seemed to grow darker before it got lighter as Bill rallied before the Losers Club that day. And despite the ice coursing through their veins, not only from their previous encounter minutes ago but the mere thought of seeking the creature out, they couldn’t fight the small spark of hope from Bill’s words. He had always had that effect, he had a way with words despite the stutter. And what he said was something Eddie had been dreading himself. His eyes flickered to Y/n instinctively, his mouth parted slightly as he regains his breath. There’s a pained expression on her face, her lower lip curled as if she was fighting back tears and he feels like kicking himself for not doing anything to protect her back in the garage.

    “Are you just gonna pretend it isn’t happening like everyone else in this town?” Bill asks, capturing Eddie’s attention once more. “Because I can’t. I go home, and all I see is that Georgie isn’t there. His clothes, his toys, his stupid stuffed animals, but… He isn’t.”

    Bill takes a deep breath, and it seems to fill him with more confidence and the Losers each squirm under Bill’s confession.

    “So walking into this house, for me, it’s easier than walking into my own.”

    Bill turns to face the old rotted door and Richie raises his eyebrows.

    “Wow.”

    “What?” Ben asks.

    “He didn’t stutter once.”

    Y/n’s eyebrows raise in shock as this dawns on her and she turns to Eddie instinctively for his reaction and he meets her gaze uneasily. A moment passes between all the Losers before they begin heading for the porch.

    “Wait!”

    Everyone stops to see Stanley, who remains planted to the ground, his eyes filled with uncertainty. He catches their waiting stares and shuffles uncomfortably.

    “Um,” he clears his throat. “Shouldn’t we have some people keep watch?”

    Bill fidgets with the doorknob and he shrugs slightly and Stan looks around uncertainly at his friends.

    “You know, just in case something bad happens?”

    “Who w-wants to stay out here?” Bill asks.

    Six hands rise to the air, none of them Beverly. Each Loser looks around at one another before one by one their arms fall back to their sides. Richie sighs, knowing what’s coming next.

    “Fuck.”

    After much debate, and several coin tossing later, the Losers had found themselves divided into two groups of four. Due to an unfortunate toss, Richie, and Eddie found themselves with Bill and Bev who had volunteered, while Ben, Stan, Mike, and Y/n stayed outside.

    Richie, of course, didn’t go without a fuss, making his feelings on the matter very clear as they prepared themselves for venturing inside.

    “I can’t believe I drew the short straw,” he huffs, trudging up the porch steps. “You’re lucky we’re not measuring dicks.”

    “You’d still be drawing the short straw” Y/n quips, her voice vaguely meek.

     He turns to look at her, ready with a comeback but the words die on his tongue when he spots her smile, it’s weak and he knows immediately what she is feeling - why she’s making jokes when at a time like this. He can’t help but smile weakly back. Her arms are folded over her b/t frame protectively and her eyes flicker between him and Eddie.

    “Just be careful, okay?” She sighs, her eyes darting to each of them. “All of you.”

    They each nod, and Eddie swallows thickly before following after his friends. Not before casting one last longing glance at Y/n who gives him a less than convincing smile of reassurance.

    The front door creaks open, and Bill, Eddie, Richie, and Beverly step wearily inside. They each have to duck underneath the many wooden slats nailed over the doorway and through it, bits of sunlight stream through.

    The three follow Bill’s lead as they exit the small alcove that bleeds into what is supposed to be the living room. Around them is an empty dark entryway with they could guess was thousands of thick cobwebs. The warped wooden floor beneath their feet was littered with hundreds of dead leaves scattered from the many twisted branches that had snaked up through the cracked floorboards, walls, and ceilings. It’s clear from where they stand and their limited view into the other rooms, several pieces of furniture have been left behind. And to greet them as they step inside, just across the floor was an eerie brick fireplace with a wooden header, carved into it in large misaligned letters; Good Cheer, Good Friends! A low whistle leaves Richie’s mouth as he takes in the chilling sight around him.

    “Well, he’s got the haunted house part down to a science,” Richie says.

    “Shut up, Richie.” Eddie scoffs, his nose scrunched up in overwhelming disgust as he looks around. “Ugh, I can smell it.”

    “Don’t breathe through your mouth.”

    Eddie’s brow furrow as he inches further towards one of the connecting rooms.

    “How come?”

    “Cause then you’re eating it.”

    Richie’s eyes fall on the small alcove to his left when something tangled in a branch catches his eyes. Behind him, Eddie lurches forward as he gags repulsed and hastily grabs for his inhaler in his fanny pack. Against his better judgment, Richie crosses over into the small corner of the room and the closer he approaches the thick trap of web and leaves the clearer the object has become; a missing kid poster with an all too familiar face. Shakily he reaches for it, and every crumple of the paper through the branches is like a thunderous boom in his ears, his heart already racing. All he can do is stare in shock, he can feel his stomach twist into knots and this time it wasn’t because of Eddie. For the first time, Richie ‘the Trashmouth’ Tozier was speechless. Beverly is the first to notice.

    “Richie?” She wanders over with the other in tow, her senses heightened when noticing his fearful gaze. “What’s wrong?”

    “It… It says I’m missing,” He croaks, realizing his mouth and throat have run bone dry.

    Bill joins his side, examining the poster and he tries to keep the worry at bay for his friends.

    “Y-You’re not missing, Richie,” Bill eases.

    Richie’s tremble only grows worse and he starts to shake the flyer, his voice rising.

    “'Police Department, City of Derry.’” He cries. “That’s my shirt. That’s my hair. That’s my face. That’s my name-!”

    “Calm down,” Bill interjects, attempting to grab the flyer. “This isn’t real.”

    “That’s my face! That’s the date!”

    “It can’t be real, Richie!”

    “No, it says it!” Richie shrieks, now fighting over the flyer with Bill. “What the fuck!? Am I gonna go missing!?”

    Beverly and Eddie can only watch in pain and worry as the moment unfolds until finally, Bill is able to rip the paper from the boy’s hands and throws it the ground without even a glance. He wraps his hands over Richie’s shoulders, holding tight against his clawing arms.

    “Calm down!”

    “Am I gonna go missing? Am I gonna go missing-?”

    “Calm down! Look at me, Richie,” He tugs on his friend’s wrist, bringing his attention away from the flyer on the floor. “Look at me.”

    “That…” Bill hastily points to the flyer, and Richie looks to it fearfully, “th-that isn’t real. It’s playing tricks on you.”

    “Hello?” Calls a distant, whimpering voice.

    The four Losers’ attention is ripped away to the source of the oddly familiar voice. Slowly, they creep back into the entryway, the leaves crunching beneath their feet and that is when they hear the voice once more.

    “Hello?”

    “It’s coming from upstairs,” Bev murmurs under her breath, creeping towards the winding stairway, the boys close behind though reluctant.

    “No shit,” Eddie trembles, stepping closer to Richie as they approach the stairs.

    One by one they ascend the winding stairway, caution in every step. They each have duck a gracious amount to avoid the thick tendrils of cobwebs stitched between the walls. And as they inched closer to the top they could hear the sounds of muffled coughing, the source of the voice was gasping for air. They reached the second-floor landing - somehow, it seemed dirtier than the first floor if that was at all possible - and had a continuing set of stairs behind them. Ahead of them, was the entrance to a long hallway, and the four of them inched along as the ragged breathing got louder, now almost wheezing.

    Just around the corner, and the end of the long hallway was a largely cracked and warped wooden door opened ajar revealing a figure on the ground. It was girl, gasping for breath and spitting up blood, her face buried in the leaves and dirt on the floor. Shakily, the messy head of muddied brown hair brushes aside as she weakly turns her head to reveal a face they never thought they’d see again.

    “Betty?” Bev gasps.

    “Ripsom?” Richie gulps.

    She merely looks at them, her eyes sunken and lost before she is ripped away, clawing at the floor and her screams are quickly swallowed in silence. The Losers jump back in horror, their hearts hammering in their chests and they can feel the bile churning in their stomach. And yet, without a word they each creep forward, knowing what they have to face. The leaves scrape against the floor as they pushed by their dragging feet and Beverly tries to focus on the sound of each leaf’s crunch rather than what she is willingly about to face.

    Eddie finds himself shrinking back but he carries on nonetheless. That is until he hears a hauntingly familiar voice carry through the air.

    Eddie.

    The poor boy feels as if his legs - and heart for that matter - have stopped working altogether and slowly he turns around. He finds nothing but the other half of the hallway and it came to a dead-end with an ominous yellow glow from the faded window pane.

    What are you looking for?

    Eddie’s eyes widen to the size of saucers and he freezes where he stands, his heart pumping his chilled blood through his veins. And he can feel the familiar tightness return to his lungs. His hands are fumbling for his inhaler when his friends reach the door at the end of the hall, unaware they were now one Loser short.

    “She was just here,” Richie breathes, looking around the empty room. “Where the fuck’d she go?”

     Eddie still stands rooted in place, he commands his body to scream for his friends but all that comes out is a hushed whisper. And as the only door amongst the dead-end hallway slowly creeks open with a taunting wail, one single moment plays over in his mind strangely enough; the coin toss just minutes ago.

    “So, are we doing this two out of three, or is this a one-flip — well — flip?” Eddie asks.

    It had come down to him and Y/n, and whoever lost the coin toss was going inside. The others had already paired off and it was between them. She stood across from him, she was bouncing nervously on the balls of her heels, shaking out her hands at her sides, visibly nervous. He held the coin in his hand, turning it over endlessly with his forefinger and thumb and her eyes followed its movement precisely.

    “Cause if we do out of two of three, statistically speaking it’s fairer and considering-”

    “Eddie,” she says suddenly, her voice trembling and pleading.

    She fails to meet his eye and she sighs deeply, her eyes closed for several moments and he realizes she only wants the waiting to be over.

    He shuffles on his feet and readies the coin, her eyes stilled trained on the quarter as well as his own and he is suddenly all too aware of the sun beating down on his neck. He looks at one last time, his stomach twisting and turning for many different reasons as the dumbest fucking plan he’s ever heard forms in his mind and the feeling hits him. That deep, sinking feeling one gets when they know - no matter a feeling, or any logical thought, no matter how much their gut is screaming at them not to do something, they know in their heart of hearts they are going to anyway. If it’s the right or wrong thing, they’re not quite sure but it is inevitable from that moment in time and beyond.

    The ‘58 minted quarter soars through the air, the sun reflecting off in thin fleeting beams and Y/n’s voice rings out with slight hesitation.

    “Heads,”

    Eddie swipes at the coin, several beats off even though he was certain he could have caught it if he truly wanted to. Instead, it lands noiselessly in the grass only feet away.

    “The fuck was that?” Richie called. “You probably didn’t realize this, Eds, but you’re supposed to catch the thing,”

    Ignoring his friend’s jabs - and ruefully neglecting to correct his given nickname - he takes a few steps off to find the coin buried in a pile of grass and sure enough, as if to mock him, the tail end of the quarter glints in the sun.

    “What w-was it?” Bill asks, growing impatient.

    He picks up the coin and straightens out. He deposits the quarter in his fanny pack and looks to Y/n. Her eyes are squinted in the sun, and it only enunciates the worried frown already on her face.

    “Heads,” He mutters, slipping over to join Richie, Bill, and Beverly.

    He expects to see her relax, but all she seems is shocked. Not eased in the slightest. But that was only because she now had him to worry about. He had willingly taken her spot.

    But would it be worth it, he can’t help but wonder. This was his chance to be brave, for her, and himself. To prove that he could be. But as he stared down the dirty hallway with god knows how many germs and viruses lurking in every nook and cranny and not to mention the leper’s voice calling to him again, he sure didn’t feel brave.

    “Guys,” he mumbles, turning to find the door begin to close. “Guys!”

    SLAM

    The door separating him and his friends at the end of that long hallway had slammed shut. The noise breaks the others from their trance-like state and they whip around to find they are trapped inside, and worse; Eddie is not with them. Eddie’s terrified screams only bring their further to the edge and they fight harder against the door to no avail.

    “Guys! Guys!” They hear him call out.

    “Eddie!” Richie cries out, his heart pounding dangerously fast.

    “What the fuck?!” His hoarse voice tears through the air, muffled by the door separating themselves from their friend.

    Eddie nears the door, only feet away from the barrier keeping him from his friends when he comes to a screeching halt. The floor in between him and the room had suddenly caved in, one by one the wooden slats peel away to reveal a giant hole leading to the kitchen below - a hole he had barely missed by only the skin of his teeth. He looked down below in shock as he struggled to catch his balance - his knees wobbled terribly at the sight - and while he had not taken the fall, he felt as if his stomach had.

    He tries desperately to slow his rapid breathing, and before he can even think of what to do next, he feels a bony hand grip his shoulder and just as fast an icy chill shoots down his spine. Eddie feels a light tug from the hand that turns him around and he can feel the exhaust of each gaunt finger at the simple gesture. It’s face is somewhat lost in the dark but It is unmistakable; the same face, the same monster that terrorized him before. Pools of excess spit dribble out of a hole in It’s cheek as It’s one foggy and cataract eye drinks up the sight of fear in the boy.

    “Time to take your pill, Eddie.” It taunts.

    It all becomes too much for Eddie, and for the briefest of seconds, he feels as if his heartbeat is so fast it is almost nonexistent. He is suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of light-headedness - or at the very least, he is only just now recognizing it - and suddenly his vision darkens. Only one thing is strong enough to pull him back to earth before he falls under once more; an explosion of pain on his head and back as piles of wood crumble beneath him, prodding his skin. Eddie is given only moments of consciousness to realize he is back on the first floor, his arm and back in searing pain and he has crash-landed on the kitchen table below.

    The last thing Eddie hears before he feels the deep pull of sleep is the shrill beep from his watch.

    Time to take his pills.

    On the other side of the door, a panicked trio of Losers claw at the seemingly jammed door. Bill wrestles with the doorknob and Beverly begins looking around the room for things to use to bust down the door. Meanwhile, Richie stumbles numbly back, fear and panic gripping his heart at the raucous going on outside the door. And how Eddie was all alone.

    Richie!

    His head turns sharply at the sudden call of his name, grabbing his attention. But what held it captive, was the familiarity of the voice. He knew it was impossible, and just about the stupidest fucking thing to believe given the circumstances. The idea that his best friend had somehow made his away around the door and into the room and had decided here of all places would be the perfect time to pull a page of the Tozier handbook and pull a fast one on him to lighten the mood. It was ridiculous, but it was a far more palatable reality than the alternative he faced. That Eddie was trapped in the hallway alone and in grave danger, quite possibly in pain. Or worse. And yet, he had no clue. All he knew is he heard his best friend and the only logical thing was to go to him.

    Come here, Richie. Came Eddie’s hoarse sounding voice, followed by a dry cackle.

    Adrenaline was pumping fast through his veins, and his legs trembled something awful, but this did not stop him from striding quickly across the room as he followed the source of the voice. Around the corner, was another door, this one wide open that displayed a limited view of what looked to be a storage room upon first glance. Several figures cloaked in faded white rags, covered in dust and cobwebs filled the ill-lit room, and yet he still managed to make out the sudden burst of movement of a small frame scurrying from one hiding spot to another.

    “Eddie,” He breathes, less than relieved and treads inside. “Eddie!”

    Richie receives no reply, but he does not let this stop him from his search, nor does it calm his spiked nerves.

    "Eddie,” Richie hisses to the now seemingly empty room. “where the fuck are you? We’re not playing hide-n-seek, dipshit!”

    On the other side of the room, Beverly - who was nearing her defeat in her search for a ramming device of some sort, had only just noticed Richie’s absence.

    “Richie?” She calls, trailing across the room, a curious Bill on her heels. “Richie-?”

    Having heard her calls, Richie turns quickly on his heels to find Beverly just outside the door in the other room, a look of relief flashing across her face and even Bill comes into view. He breathes a sigh of relief, knowing for sure what he is seeing is a true familiar face and he can feel himself coming to his senses. He wastes no time in heading for the door, but just as suddenly as it had happened with Eddie, the door began to close.

    “Richie! Richie!” Beverly calls, pounding and punching the wooden frame, no longer bothering to look for something to do it for her. “Richie, are you okay?!”

    “Guys,” He yelped, his sweaty palms struggling to twist the jammed brass knob to no avail. “come on, open the door!”

    “What’s going on? Rich!” Bill pleas, his arms growing sore from his fruitless fight, but he doesn’t give in. “Richie! Open the door, come on!”

    Richie, who had resorted to tugging on the handle until his arms weakened called out once more, hoping his voice would reach them.

    “I can’t!” He cries, his head whipping over his shoulder and he squints up at the new flickering blue fluorescence above him. “I- I fucking can’t!”

    No matter his efforts against the jammed door, all Richie could really do was watch helplessly as he slowly drowned in his fear. The frightened cries of his friends now lost in the thunderstorm that was his own dangerously fast heartbeat. All sound was lost to him it seemed, that was until he heard the eerie sound of what he could only describe as several curtains dropping at once. Against his better judgment, he turned to face the room he was now trapped in and the pounding of his heart was no longer the problem. Scattered across the dimly lit room, illuminated by the pale and flickering lights were dozens upon dozens of clown figurines of varying sizes, all staring directly and unmistakably at Richie.

    “Oh, shit,” he mutters, mouth running dry and his breath ragged.

    The voices of his friends have since disappeared altogether, or maybe this thing just doesn’t want him to hear them. He can’t tell which is worse in the spur of the moment, that is until he can hear the snickering high pitched laughter of the many painted porcelain faces staring back at him. It’s not real, he tries to remind himself. He just needs to get back to Bill and Bev and then go find Eddie, but when he turns back around, he finds his path is blocked and he jumps back with a frightened yelp.

    Standing propped up against the door, at about half his height was another porcelain clown, with cockeyed eyes and a wild painted grin. He found himself stumbling into the center of the room, now feeling more trapped than ever as he gazes around at the taunting figures surrounding him. One wooden clown, that stood just inches taller than him and its hand extended suddenly became the center of Richie’s attention.

    It’s not real, it’s all just some fucked up trick.

    Slowly, he reached out, his confidence slowly returning and taps the hollow wooden cheek of the white-face clown. Nothing.

    Richie releases a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, and for a moment he thought he could almost laugh. Almost.

    “Stupid clowns.”

    No sooner does the sound of cloth hitting the floor echo in his ears, and just as fast his one measly scrap of confidence evaporates into the air. He turns to find at the very end of the room, what had been previously hidden under the final cloth tarp; a coffin. With a shrill, one chilling creak it rises open to reveal his own missing poster. And sprawled over it, and all across the baby blue moth-eaten fabric lining was a single five-letter word painted in blood.

    FOUND

    “Oh, fuck,”

    His legs nearly buckled, and yet they still carried him forward towards the open coffin. His widened eyes never broke contact with the open casket, had they, and he just might have spotted the wandering heads of the clowns that followed his every move. As he approached, he prepared himself for whatever horror he was about to face. His mind even managed to conjure up several stomach-turning images before he could reach the thing, all far too horrible a thought to have conjured himself. And he wondered for a moment if the Clown was putting these awful thoughts in his brain. Or was It, and the fear It created in him just unlocking the darkest corners of his own mind?

    What did lie in the coffin was something small, cloaked in a black veil of some sort and yet it still managed to keep his heart pounding. Just like a band-aid, he told himself. Taking another deep breath, once again preparing for the worst, he pulled the cloth off to reveal a small, marionette figurine… Of himself. It was made to look like it was rotting, and it sure was succeeding. It’s eyes were glazed over, nearly all white and his mouth was stitched closed. But what made his stomach lurch was the many patches in its face filled with real maggots, squirming and squelching and Richie could even swear he could smell the corpse rotting.

    “Ugh!” Richie groaned.

    Though he had to say he was in the least bit relieved, it was far less gruesome than he had expected, more disgusting than terrifying he couldn’t help but think. It was enough to make even him nauseous, and he always thought he had the stronger stomach out of his friends. He could practically hear Eddie gagging.

    The very thought snapped him back to reality. Eddie. He needed to get the hell out of here so he could find Eddie.

    With a definitive huff, he slams the coffin door shut.

    BAM

    The casket flies open and a sudden and elongated blur of silver and orange soars out and up to the ceiling, a sharp and maniac screech piercing the air. Richie stumbles back with a scream of his own and he watches on in sheer terror as Clown falls back down to earth, landing perched on the now-closed coffin and towering over Richie. It’s twisted smile grows, and the arch of where It’s eyebrows should be perk halfway up to It’s copper hairline creating a taunting snarl.

    Reaching out one gloved hand, It moves as if to honk an invisible horn at the boy and It’s wicked grin only grows wider. “Beep beep, Richie.”

    Before he can even blink, he is running for his life. No sooner had it spoke was It leaping through the air and charging after him. Unhinging It’s jaw, It lets out an impossibly shrill and ear-splitting roar of anger as It lunges after Richie, long arms growing in length as It reaches out to snatch him up. Richie spares a glance behind him, knowing he is about to run out of the room when to his great surprise the door swings suddenly open, and Bill’s arm stretches in and pulls him out.

    Despite his current situation, Richie cannot believe his luck. He barrels over, swallowing air in heaps with his hands gripped tightly above his knees and hoping they don’t buckle.

    “Let’s get outta here,” Bill stammered.

    A soft thump from the adjoining room shifted their attention to a shabby, threadbare mattress that began to shake vigorously - they could barely make out a familiar giggle from inside. And at its center, a lump grew from inside the mattress until one of many weak seams finally gave way, splitting open to reveal the face a friend they had been searching for.

    Their jaws hit the floor at the sight of a disheveled and even somewhat decomposing Eddie, who looked at the three friends with a glint of mischief.

    “Wanna play loogie?”

    Thick, inky black sludge began to pour from his mouth, staining the mattress as well as their minds. The projection of Eddie let out a deep, primal grunt and he began to vibrate unnaturally as the grunts evolved into a crazed cackle before his head disappeared back into the mattress. All the while, the black sludge had begun to spread; seeping out from under the mattress and onto the floor, slowly inching for their feet and burning anything it touched.

    Down on the first-floor kitchen, the real Eddie springs up, awoken by his adrenaline and he looks around the room. In less than moments, the entirety of his pain of injury returns and he looks down at right arm that lays limply in his lap. He is repulsed at the sight when he realizes why it looks so wrong. It had snapped clean in two, and his lower forearm dangled weakly when he attempted to cradle it. He winced as he did so, excruciating amounts of pain flaring up and it took everything in his power not to vomit. Though this time, he was unsure if it was out of disgust or pain.

    Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck! How would he ever explain this to his mother? That is if even got out alive! What was he going to do?

    Eddie was far too caught up in his panic to notice the gloved hand that shot out from inside the fridge. That is until It began drumming It’s fingers against the metal exterior of the fridge, creating a chilling rhythmic tap, tap, tap that diverted his attention. His head shoots up in time to see the refrigerator door slowly creak open. For one short instance, he can’t make anything out inside, though that quickly becomes a desirable advantage when he finally spots a crooked lanky arm unfold onto the floor revealing the crooked and twisted face that had cornered him here only weeks ago.

  A sinister cackle echoed from the fridge as limb by limb, the gargantuan figure untangles Itself from the fridge and comes to tower over Eddie’s small frame. The boy draws back in terror as the clown dips into a bow, and It’s puffy white cheeks peel back into a mocking leer that revealed It’s several sharp teeth.

  “Time to float!”

  It’s voice, despite its low octave, was light and mocking. The voice It always used in this form, It’s favorite form: Pennywise.

  He steps forward, his long and lanky arms began shifting side to side in a stiff and stilted manner as He stalked forward towards his prey. All Eddie could bring himself to do was crawl back to the best of his ability, swallowing a dangerous amount of air in the form of choked gasps. Finding this amusing, Pennywise puts on an exaggerated frown and begins to feign a gasp, mocking Eddie as It pretends to stumble.

  All the while, the black sludge surrounding Beverly, Bill and Richie only grow closer to their toes. Subconsciously sweeping them back with her arms, Beverly turns on her heels and goes head for the door, the boys following her lead. However, they each stop short, shocked at the least to see not one but three doors in their path. They were each labeled, painted in what one could only assume to be blood, and each drop of excess liquid slowly crept up to the ceilings as if gravity had been reversed. From right to left, they read; ’Very Scary’, ’Scary’, and ’Not Scary At All’.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

  Eddie’s back hit one of the larger scraps of wood - what was left of the kitchen table - indicating he could go no further. He nearly jumped out of his skin when in the blink of an eye, Pennywise was within inches of himself. His tuffs of copper hair - normally swirling out in even sweeps, now mucky and mangled as it hung closer to his rotted face. In an act of bravery, and all the strength he can muster under such terror, Eddie begins to swat at the clown’s face, batting him away in an act of defiance.

  Pennywise snatches the boy’s wrist with an iron grip, bringing it close to his jowls and pretends to eat Eddie’s hand. He giggled delightfully at his clever antics, oh what fun! And the squeals this meal was capable!

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

  Beverly met eyes with both Richie and Bill, knowing a decision had to be made. And it was unanimous. The three children scrambled for the door marked Not Scary At All, Bev is the one to reach the handle first and she rips the door open to find nothing but shadows. A hoarse whisper carries through the air, bringing goosebumps to their skin, all the while, the sizzling goo was creeping dangerously close to their feet.

  “Where’s my shoe?”

  Spotting the metal chain dangling only feet from his face, Bill reaches forward and pulls the chord illuminating the small space and the ghastly sight within. Betty Ripsom’s bloodied and bruised body was suspended from above, hanging by her wrists as she was left to bleed out from the gaping and shredded stump where her torso ended, and her waist and legs had been torn off. Her mucky and tangled hair hung over her face but parted soon as she limply lifted her head revealing the gathering terror on her face.

  A horrible shriek left her lips, eliciting one from each Loser respectively. Richie lurched forward, swinging the door shut and collapsing on it, panting heavily with a wild look in his eye.

  “Where the fuck were her legs?!” He screams, eyes falling to the sludge creeping up on his friends. “Holy shit, what the fuck was that?!”

  “T-T-This is-isn’t real,” Bill reminds, shaking his head and grasping Richie’s shoulders. “R-remember the m-missing kid p-poster! That wasn’t r-real, so this isn’t real.”

  Beverly nods feverishly, trying her best not to pay no attention to the sludge. Bill was right.

  “You can’t let It get to you,” Bev urges, locking eyes with the boy. “It’s toying with us, all of us. But we can change that.”

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

  “Tasty, tasty, beautiful fear!” The clown cried with glee, spit dribbling from his lips and onto Eddie.

  Eddie convulsed with revulsion, his face barely able to scrunch up in disgust in the iron grip the clown held him in. He choked back sobs as the clown smiled. His eyes had turned to a yellow that glowed harsh bright light amidst a darkness like two headlights tailing you in the night on an old back road. And his smile was so sharp and sudden, so unnaturally pointed. And then, those gaping yellow eyes, the haunting headlights, rolled back into his enlarged - was it enlarging? - skull and his jaw unhinged revealing his rows and rows of thorny teeth. Like hundreds of little white needles that would surely tear his flesh apart and Eddie was sure of it. He was sure this was the end of him.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

  “Come on. Ready?” Bill asked, the three of them facing the door.

  “NO!” Scoffed the Tozier boy.

  “Let’s go!” Beverly rallied, ripping the door open.

Disgruntled, Pennywise turned from his meal. Like a wolf in It’s den, It could hear, It could sense - It could smell - the company.

  A sigh a great relief swept through the three friends as they saw the disheveled and grossly unsanitary hallway. Something they never thought they’d be grateful to see and Richie felt one of many large weights had been lifted from his chest.

  “Oh, thank fuck.”

  But the moment was cut far too short when Beverly begged the question he had previously been asking.

  “But where’s Eddie?”

  “Help!” Eddie! “Help!”

  Pennywise’s gloved hand moves to cover the child’s screams, only managing to muffle his cries. All the while, It’s rotund head still angled away and physically, It’s eyes are fixed on the kitchen door, and yet It knows the boy’s friends are coming for him.

  “Eddie!”

  The door is thrown open, Richie, Beverly, and Bill come stumbling in. They all gasp at the sight of the disheveled clown hunched over their friend, hand now pinned around Eddie’s throat. Displeased, he turns to glare at the interruption, yet a glint of amusement lingers in It’s soulless eyes.

  “Holy fuck,” Richie mutters breathlessly, eyes shifting away quickly. “Eddie!”

  His exaggerated lip began to quiver as he looked to Bill, his voice growing high and shrill as he so easily put on an expression of pain.

  “This isn’t real enough for you, Billy? I’m not real enough for you?”

  “Oh, shit,”

  A malicious smile painted the clown’s face, curling his mouth.

  “It was real enough for Georgie!” He jeered.

  An odious cackle erupted from Pennywise at Bill’s reaction, and it took only seconds for it to turn to a hideous roar as he lunged across the room in a hazy silver blur. It was their turn to stare death in the eyes - more specifically for Bev, Bill, and Richie - death was in the form of a heinous clown. A rallied cry tore through the air as swiftly and cleanly as the fence iron rod was driven through It’s eye so suddenly. Everyone in the room gaped at Y/n as she uncurled her trembling hands from the spike, blood floating out of It’s eye and up towards the ceiling. The rest of the Losers stumbled inside, mouths agape to see the wounded monster wailing meekly at It’s new wound. It was distracted, for the time being.

  “Eddie!” Y/n cried, shuffling around the hunched figure, motioning for her friends to follow. “Guys, help me get him out!”

  No one wasted any time, and Bill, Richie, and Bev managed to maneuver around pennywise and scurried to the floor to help. Mike, Ben, and Stan stood frozen in the entryway, unable to help.

  “Eddie, come on!”

  “Eddie!”

  “Get up!”

  In their fright, not one Loser could hear one another, each scream overlapping the other in a mad scramble to get Eddie out. But Eddie couldn’t bring himself to move, the shock of it all was gripping, and he was much too afraid of what would happen if his eyes left the clown for even a moment. Bill quickly caught on, and he turned his head to see Pennywise’s arched back slowly straightening, a deep growl rumbling It’s chest.

  “Oh, fuck!” Richie gasped at the sight, looking back over at Eddie as he tugged at his one good arm. “we gotta get outta here!”

  With a flourish, Pennywise turned on his heel halfway in a bow, and even then he towered over the Losers. The spike had gone clear through his head and was protruding through his left cheek, his growl deepened and he rose to his full height as he stalked forward. Dribble was once again pooling at his lip, and nothing but a fiery rage was left in It’s one good eye, fixed on It’s newest target. But she was too focused on Eddie, and getting him up. Beverly stood over her and Richie, groaning in fright and tugging frantically at her best friend’s shirt.

  “Get Eddie! Let’s go!”

  “Eddie, come on! NOW!”

  “Guys!” He wailed.

  Y/n, who was all too aware of the It’s presence, finally turned around to see It inching closer. She locked eyes with the monster and tuning out the overlapping screams of her friends became easy when she did so. Because all her mind could handle at once was the fear, the very fact she and her friends were in danger and she just pissed this thing off even more. It was coming for her first, that was easy enough to know. Though she trembled with fear, she shifted her frame in front of her friends, shielding them to the best of her ability.

  It merely snarled at her, amused at her ply but far more tickled by It’s own countermove. A horrible cracking elicited from It’s hunched figure, and everyone - apart from Richie who was hellbent on assuring Eddie’s attention was on him instead - watched as the clown transformed. It’s arms began to grow, now sagging on the floor as It’s knuckles dragged through the leaves. And It’s torso had thinned to impossible proportions, It’s hunched and bony back ripping away the seams on It’s satin costume. And of course the eyes, the same eyes that haunted her that night and every night since.

  And yet she didn’t move.

  Not as he taunted her, with cruel, strikingly similarities as that night - the boogeyman towering over her trembling form. Nor did she move when he lurched forward with a shriek, a desperate, last resort jump scare that worked on her friends. But not her, she refused. Refused to let him know he got to her, or even admit to herself that he got to her. But he did, all too easily. Y/n looked up at the dark chasms where his eyes once were, were two glowing yellow iris now resided, and she waited. Waited for the final blow and for this all to be over. When it finally came, she had expected it to be directed at her but had hit Ben instead.

  Turning suddenly, the iron rod protruding from It’s cheek had caught the flesh of Ben’s stomach, tearing it open. He collapsed back into Mike’s arms with a painful wail, Stan running to his side. All the while, Pennywise turned to look at the eight petrified children and cackled weakly at the small feat. Taking a bow, It backed out of the room, retreating into the shadows and back to It’s hideout. Everyone was in a state of shock, Mike and Stan were fussing over Ben. Richie and Y/n now doing the same with Eddie while Beverly trembled in horror, hand clamped over her mouth to stop her screams from breaking through. But Bill, he only grew more frantic and he rose to his feet and made a mad dash for the door.

  “Don’t let him get away!”

  “Bill! Where the fuck are you going?!”

  At that moment, Bill didn’t care his friends hadn’t followed. He had to make sure the bastard didn’t escape. He followed the clown and found himself descending a rickety staircase, not unlike the one in his basement. That’s when he spotted the well. And more importantly the two lanky claws gripping the stone ledge and the disappearing glance of the clowns head and glowing red irises vanishing into the well.

  “BILL! GET BACK HERE, WE HAVE TO HELP THEM!” It was Y/n’s voice, and Bill was certain he had never heard her so certain.

  “NO! NO!” Eddie cried, looking around at all his friends as they grabbed for his arm.

  Bill has to pull himself from his trance, promising himself this wasn’t the end and scrambled back up the steps back to his friends. He quickly joined their side, and for the first time, he got a good look at Eddie’s arm. He felt as if he could just about puke. Richie looked at him nervously, his hands trembling and a stutter of his own taking over.

  “I-I-I’m gonna, I’m gonna snap your arm back into place!”

  Anger flashed in Eddie’s eyes, and he shook his head with fervor. “DO NOT FUCKING TOUCH ME!”

  Ignoring Eddie’s protests, Richie attempted to calm his nerves and prepare himself, all the while the rest of the group beginning to panic. Even Mike, and Stan were drawn to their cries, having been wrapped up in Ben.

  “Okay, one,”

  “Do not touch me!”

  “Eddie, squeeze my hand,” Y/n ordered over the commotion, extending her palm but he shook his head.

  “Two,”

  Cries of protest echoed across the room and finally, Y/n quickly grabbed the Eddie’s one good hand, closing her eyes and turning away knowing what was inevitably to come.

  “Three!”

  Everyone heard the sickening crunch of Eddie’s bones shifting, yelling out in disgust but none compared to Eddie’s pained howl. Y/n grimaced at Eddie’s surprisingly strong grip, and she did her best to swallow the bile creeping up at the horrible sound. Remembering all too quickly where they were, she jumped to her feet. Her and Richie helped the boy up and once they were assured Ben was able to move, the eight Losers fled for the exit.

×××

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[awackyphdinadorkable]

Cherik Moodboard - Being Human AU

When Erik and Charles move into their new shared house, they expect the normal madness one would have to anticipate when a telepathic werewolf and a vampire with the ability to control metal try to live a human life. Having to move furniture around and having to switch around shifts at the hospital to make sure the craftsmen don’t do anything behind their backs.

What they do not expect is a foul-mouthed ghost to haunt their newly purchased house, apparently with no recollection of how he died and only sure of that one thing: It’s actually not possible for him to be dead since he was a mutant like them when he was still alive - and his mutation made it almost impossible to kill him.

But seemingly just almost.

And funny enough, Logan doesn’t just have to come to grips with the fact that he is now a ghost and thus can’t drink alcohol or help himself to a “goddamn cigar,” but with the reality that there are actually werewolves and vampires in this world, when he is fairly sure that none existed last time he checked.

“Whenever the fuck that was.”

Charles, ever enthusiastic to help who Erik only ever refers to as one of his roommates “strays”, Logan remember his past in the hope that it will help him move on, so his door leading him to the other side will finally appear, as he seemingly missed it when he died.

Erik, for his part, is not at all pleased about it all, even less so when Charles has to realize that he may have to wait for a time closer to a full moon. Because being a werewolf around a full moon means your senses and strengths are heightened - and so are the man’s telepathic abilities. And Erik is well aware how taxing that is on his friend, but leave it up to Charles to nearly get himself killed if only to help a single soul.

He did it before, just that last time, he winded up fishing a vampire out of water who was short before drowning, both literally and figuratively.

Until it’s time, life is supposed to continue as normal as it can be, though times are rough now that Erik broke with the Hellfire Club aka the local coven run by his alpha, Sebastian Shaw. Shaw turned Erik back during the revolutionary war and has since made it his mission to give “the gift of eternity” to mutants, as they are the oppressed despite being the superior species.

And Erik will have to say, he found himself agreeing with Shaw’s teachings for what seems far too long. While Shaw is right about how mutants are regarded in this society, the “gift of eternity” soon turned into a curse, always stuck between the grief of seeing everyone you love pass while you have to continue walking and the constant threat of hunger overtaking you, so you may take lives instead of just making ends meet. Erik was fed up with Shaw’s practices and wanted to leave, but you don’t just leave Shaw, he had to learn the very hard way.

He tries to redeem himself since, inspired by Charles and his ongoing fight for the good in the world, picking up where he left off long time ago back when he used to be a doctor in the army, helping the sick and those in need at the hospital. And in that same vain, he swore off of live blood, instead relying on blood bags he always drinks from the obligatory metal mug.

Erik was the one to inspire Charles to try out as a nurse in turn. Charles has all it would take to be a doctor, but ever since the camping trip that ended with some of his friends dead and the wolf now living inside him wanting to come out to play every full moon, Charles distanced himself from most of his dreams, living a life in small, very small, in fact. Even his biggest dream - to open up a school for mutants - was something he swore off of.

“I can’t teach anyone how to control their abilities when I can’t seem to control the beast coming out every full moon, can I?”

With Erik’s help, Charles dared to make the first steps back into a life he thought he couldn’t ever have in any capacity again. He helps people again and feels like he is having a purpose. They take over each other’s shifts when hunger is too high or people think too much around a full moon. Erik picks up Charles from the woods after a rough night under a full moon - always with some spare clothes in the trunk and an ever bemused smile whenever he finds Charles with whatever scraps he helped himself until erik arrived. And Charles ensures that there is “bloody coffee” in the fridge at all times.

It’s the small things, it turns out, that make being human so worthwhile.

It’s the small things you do for one another, the things you do together, that matter and make you keep fighting even when you feel like giving up.

Over time, Charles and Erik came to care for one another not just as roommates but as best friends. Whereas Charles ensures that everything runs smoothly around the house, Erik makes sure his roommate runs smoothly. For instance, as it turns out, just because you are a vampire and can’t taste or eat food anymore doesn’t mean you can’t be a great chef for a guy who easily forgets any self-preservation in the face of an exciting book on genetics or an amnesic ghost Charles is desperate to help move on.

Though if Logan’s comments about the pair can be believed, they may be far more than friends in a long time already, though neither one knows where the ghost got that idea from.

And so, both try their best to be as human as they can, having decided that this is the goal they can share in, even though their struggles are very different at times. Though that endeavor may now be ever the more under threat than usual when Shaw starts to cause trouble around town, seemingly in an effort to bring Erik back into the coven. Though his interest may not only be in bringing back home “the son he never had” but in the amnesic ghost whose past may hold truths to a much greater, much darker secret.

And it may very well put their life at stake.

[dreaming-gamer]

DMC Week Day 2 & 3: Demon, Fight, Loss - Nero & V

I chose to sort of combine these two days, hope you enjoy the result!

Rating: Mature

Warning: Angst with a happy ending, canon-typical violence, mentions of earlier character death, mentions of blood.

“We… should retreat…” V sounded wrong, his deep voice out of breath. Griffon’s wings looked tired, bringing him closer to the ground for each slow flap. By V’s feet, Shadow lingered but Nero could see specks of her form falling off.

Nero’s muscles burned from the fight, cuts and bruises covering his upper body. The enemy was like none he had seen before. Humanoid in form, faster than the Angelos, stronger and with more technique… Despite having fought for a long while now, their inflicted damage on the demon didn’t seem to bother it, as it towered over them just like Urizen while it seemed to only regard them as flies it needed to swat away with its scythe. Armor cloaked its limbs, chest and back, with scratches from Nero’s sword and Shadow’s spinning wheel attacks, but for the most part, the armor had held. One of its arms, its thickness about the same as Nero’s entire body hung limply at its side, the one sustainable damage they had managed.

“Shakespeare’s right, it’s too much!” The avian shouted on top of his tiny lungs. “We need backup!”

What backup was there? Trish and Lady were away on their own mission. Nico was waiting for them to come back and Nero didn’t want her anywhere near this craziness. Dante and Vergil had left this realm to him and V to protect, if they couldn’t… then who would? The iron taste in his mouth grew worse for every breath, he barely had enough strength to keep Red Rose revved up. Blood on his hands made the grip slippery, the cut above his eye was finally bleeding less so his vision wasn’t as obscured.

Nero spat, he could kill for a glass of water to rid himself of the taste… His stomach felt bruised after a direct hit earlier. He gripped his sword more tightly. V’s words were having the opposite effect, igniting that spark of fighting within him again.

“If you wanna bail V, go ahead.” Nero gathered all the snarkiness he had left into his grin and revved his sword. “I’m bagging this bitch.”

“News flash, hotshot! We’re in deep shit?!” Griffon squawked, flapping maniacally to get in front of Nero. “We need a plan!”

Cool metal touched his shoulder, in an attempt to make him turn.

“We need to regroup and mend our wounds. Right now… that’s the best we can do.” The handle of the cane was trembling. The young devil hunter set his jaw. V looked pale, his limp prominent, his hunched over form screaming of fatigue, several cuts and bruises blooming on his skin, though most of them had stopped bleeding. With his slowed movements, any further fighting for him, or either of them was too dangerous. But so was leaving this demon alone… its scythe had already torn through so much of the evacuated buildings, filling the air with smoke from the fires. If this continued to the populated areas… No, there was still something for them to try. Something he could do.

“I haven’t tried this yet.” Nero shook off V’s cane. “Just stay back.” It would actually be a first, outside of that one battle. Nero had never really found the trigger again, but now, he felt an odd certainty that he’d be able to.

I need power…! The thought rushed through his mind, with that searing heat of transformation. Every wound on his body tickled as if ants were suddenly crawling in them as they stitched together and sped up the mending process. A rush of adrenaline, the wings sprouting out of his back in all their iridescent glory, ready to pummel any and all demons into the ground.

“Nero…!” V’s voice behind him held bewilderment, perhaps insistence that they should in fact retreat but Nero didn’t turn to check.

This form had given him power to stop a family feud, to protect the ones he cared about. It would have to be enough to do so again.

One look at the demon in front of him and Nero felt rage well up. Exploding in his gut like a supernova, his yellow eyes burning as he threw himself back into the fight.

The air reeked of blood. His, V’s, but there was also the foul stench of demon blood, his Devil Trigger form enhancing his senses in a way he was still not used to. One of their earlier attacks had scraped through its defenses, hitting its thick arm and making it hang limp. That was where he’d strike again.

An earsplitting roar. Nero’s clawed hands flew to his ears. His wings fluttered, gathered wind. Avoided the scythe. He closed in, just a meter from his target. One wing transformed into the fist, poised to strike.

Something moved in his peripheral vision. Danger incoming, his body screamed. His wings flapped, the demon’s kick swooping past him, just barely missing.

A sudden crackle of thunder behind him. Nero clenched his jaw, gripped his sword tighter. His wing about to snatch the new threat from the air, when he somehow realized that no, that was an ally. A noisy one, shouting “Fry!” at the top of its small lungs, but an ally. A strike of lightning swept past him, hit the demon straight in its three glowing eyes. Its mouth opens for a screech, the tentacles around its jaw moving, showing the fearsome row of teeth.

Red Queen blazed through the flesh, searing it off, the thick limb falling to the ground with a thud. The demon roared, stepped back. Nero didn’t revel in the victory, he launched himself for a new attack. Blood splattered over his wings, his form as he aimed for the head, sword poised to strike…

Only to be caught by the other fist that had let go of the scythe, all five fingers catching hold of him and squeezing. Nero couldn’t scream, air was being knocked out of him, how the hell did this thing still have so much power?!

He thrashed, struggled against the tightening grip.

Let go! Opening his mouth wide, he bit into the thumb of his enemy. Blood with the taste and smell of decay hit his senses, hard enough to make him feel like puking but the grip remained, strong and attempting to crush him.

Nero felt his thoughts blanking out, instincts taking over. Teeth letting go, his mouth tasting of blood. Every fiber of his being burned to get free of the fingers trapping him. His pulse throbbing fast, drowning out all sound in his ears. Pain engulfing his entire frame. His wings, though trapped, tried to bend up an opening for him.

When there suddenly was a swirl of black blades cutting through the air, crackling with lightning and hitting the demon’s wrist, managing to tear through the armor plate coating the demon’s body. A sickening splat as the blood sprayed over the ground.

The grip loosened and Nero fell, pain pounding in every nerve. He hit the ground with a thud, breathless, spitting up blood and aching, feeling most of his transformation come undone as concentration and rage was slipping.

He knew this feeling, the twisting of a snake in his stomach, trying to eat its way to his chest and heart. Having someone else having to step up and fight for him, like Dante had against the demon ass Urizen. Even now, he heard the sound of fighting. Crackles of lightning, Shadow’s demonic spikes trying to pierce through. The sick sound of metal meeting flesh. Nero struggled to raise his head, spotting his comrade still locked in combat. Did he see… blood?

Should he have listened to V? Had he doomed them both? Dread spread inside, like a snake finding new vulnerable spots within him to bite into. The demon was slower now, but so were V’s familiars from their master’s weakened state.

With a yell, Griffon was hit by a fist head-on, his form falling apart during its descent, entering his stalemated form of swirling particles surrounding the blue orb.

“God-dammit!” Arms trembling under him, Nero struggled to get up, stand! Transform! Do something!

“Nero, run!” He wasn’t sure if the words were just in his head or being shouted at him. He just knew he had heard them before but he wasn’t going to face another situation like that. Not again!

Once, he lost Credo when he tried to save him. Years later, he believed he had lost Dante the same way.

Nero’s eyes found V, whose hair shifted to a glistening white just as the earth shook from the arrival of his third familiar. His triumph card, as well as last resort. V’s legs barely holding him as he grabbed onto the golem of pure destruction. Despite having spoken of retreat, V remained because of Nero’s choice.

Determination burned anew in Nero’s gut. He was not losing anyone else.

Wings and horns materialized again, his heightened senses returning. Red Queen didn’t feel slippery in his grip anymore, the weight familiar, almost light despite his aching muscles. The demon was focusing on Nightmare, grabbing its scythe and meeting the golem’s laser head-on, the light blinding to look at. Sparks flew through the air, the scythe’s metal taking on a red, hot glow.

His iridescent wings cracking their knuckles for round whichever this was, Nero charged again, aiming straight for the head. A shock of lightning made the demon’s head turn and that’s when he saw it, a soft spot, basically beckoning for him to tear it apart and end it all. Fueled by the sense of protection, he soared, aimed…

It hit, blood spraying over his arms, the sword piercing directly into the thin crevice between armor plates. But the demon was still moving, trying to shake him off. Red Queen was lodged in the wound, but not far enough.

“Nero, move!” V’s words left no room for argument. Nero let go, feeling claws suddenly yank onto his jacket and pull him away, fast. Griffon flapped frantically as Nightmare’s fist, rammed into the demon’s weak spot. Red Queen shot in far, V holding on to the inky back of his familiar with all strength he could muster while the demon wailed, tried to get away. Blood continued to spray, the demon’s motions turning twitchy, its roar sounding more like a gurgle for each second.

When it fell silent, Nero almost thought he had gone deaf. Everything was so suddenly quiet, the demon falling on its side, jaw and tentacles slack, all three eyes rolled up into its skull. Dim with no glow in sight before the creature started to dissolve.

But the creature was not the only thing that fell.

Nightmare withered away, disappearing in specks of black goo, some of them sticking to V’s hair and with Griffon currently holding on to Nero, V fell, landing heavily on his knees and collapsing in a heap with a grunt of pain, blood oozing onto the ground.

Nero’s heart felt like it would stop.

“V!” He wasn’t sure if it was his voice, Griffon’s or both of them overlapping in a chorus that made the world suddenly kick-start itself again. Ignoring that he was still meters above ground, Nero tore himself free, his wings, horns and claws fading as his transformation came undone. Feet hitting the ground so hard they felt numb for a second, he forced them into a run, Griffon soaring past him overhead.

Shadow was already by V’s side, licking his hand. The human summoner had his eyes closed, breathing as if he had run a marathon in sandals. V looked like a toy whose batteries had run out, having just fallen onto his side and not moved.

“V! Hold on, I’m gonna…” Nero carefully put his hands on the other man’s shoulders, turning him over, the quarter-demon’s vision narrowing into a tunnel, slightly blurry, looking for wounds and something to do about them. His face and hands felt so hot, the pain suddenly forgotten from the adrenaline burning through his system.

V’s left arm hung limp, blood trickling from a gash a bit above his elbow. Most of the smaller cuts on his arms seemed to have stopped bleeding, a rather nasty blue bruise peeking out under the side of his leather vest.

“I got you V.” Worry accelerated his world, it felt like the seconds passed too fast. He couldn’t think, only act. V was losing blood fast, he looked like a sheet, especially with the now black hair back in place, sticking to his forehead. Nero ripped off a bit of his own red t-shirt, wrapped the cloth around V’s upper arm and pulled hard to create pressure. V winced, a pained sound escaping through gritted teeth. “Yeah, I know it hurts, but hold on, alright?” Nero let his voice turn softer, steadier than he felt. His eyes wandered, checking for anything else needing tending to, was there anymore blood, signs that V was–

“Nero…” The name dragged out as V sounded so out of breath. “I’ll be fine. I’m merely… spent.”

Hearing V trying to comfort him, when he was the one hurt because of Nero’s stupid decision just made the quarter-demon want to puke.

“Once we get you fixed up, you’ll be fine. Just hold on, I’ll get us back.” Nero moved to get V off the cold ground, that couldn’t be good for him, V got chilled so easily anyway.

“Nero…” V’s prompted but Nero didn’t get why, he was just doing his best to get them out of this fucking mess he’d created. He didn’t look at V’s face, kept his gaze from the summoner’s neck and down.

“I’ll get us back, I’ll fix this.” He cut V off, gripped V’s less damaged wrist firmly to help him get to his feet. For a second, V seemed unsteady but steadied himself.

“Nero.” V’s tone was insistent once he stood, still sounding slightly out of breath, but much more determined. Somehow, it just grated on his nerves.

“WHAT?!” The word tore out of Nero, raw, uninvited and harsh. He snapped his head to look at V, shocked when he found V’s collected expression, his green eyes to look out of focus.

“Talk to me.” V demanded, turning his hand in Nero’s grip, cold fingers, weren’t they too cold, brushing against Nero’s underarm.

Just then, Nero realized he was crying. Wet, fast droplets obscuring his vision and he couldn’t make stop. Suddenly, it was as if the snake had wrapped itself around his throat, sealing off any words he wished to use. He tried to speak, to give him V an explanation but it was like a dam inside him had ruptured, let out the tidal wave that had built up against it. This was wrong, nothing he had ever experienced before. But he couldn’t stop, had no clue as to how to do so. His shoulders were shaking, his breaths trembling. All he felt capable of doing was hold on to V’s wrist and his comrade in arms let him.

“I thought I had too little strength, again. I thought I messed up!” He rambled. “When you fell, and there was blood, you looked like–” Nero clammed up, unsure of how to continue.

Credo. The man who’d been like his brother looked nothing alike the pale, black-haired man in front of him now. And yet the dread of losing someone close to him again had hit him like a truck. Especially when the continuation of the fight had been his idea.

“Like someone you lost.” V filled in the blank. Nero nodded, trying to wipe his damn eyes. That wasn’t even all of it, he had almost lost V once but he shut those words down.

“You… know about him?”

“Kyrie has told me stories.” V said, voice gentle as he slowly pulled his arm free, placing his hand on Nero’s arm, the touch cold but light and well-meaning. “…it’s alright to cry.”

“…you sound like Nico.” Nero couldn’t help but point out, but it was dragging the start of a grin out of him, despite all the emotions. A sniff escaped him, the snake feeling like it was letting up. Slithering away for another day. His heart was still being squeezed, but it slowly felt lighter, purged from the tears.

“Perhaps you should listen to her, she is a genius, after all.” V said, a faint smirk forming on his lips.

“Don’t say that to her face!” Their friend she might be, but she didn’t need a more inflated ego, in Nero’s opinion. It made his wallet cry enough as it was.

V chuckled.

“Perhaps we should return to her, we did fight for quite a while.” He pointed out, slowly reaching down for his cane when Shadow brushed against him and took it in her mouth but Nero didn’t miss the tense reaction of his comrade’s muscles. Before V managed to collect the cane, Nero offered him his shoulder. V accepted, his less wounded arm around Nero’s shoulders and Nero put an arm around V’s waist to steady him, because the first step almost made him stumble.

“You alright there?” Worry gnawed at Nero’s insides again, V patted his shoulder.

“Yes, I will be. Believe it or not, I have been through worse.” Nero felt it as a punch in the gut, realizing that must be true. V looked fine now, but there had been those sickening cracks plaguing his skin before, it was not easily forgotten.

“Yeah well… I’m glad you’re here V.” Nero swallowed, his voice sincere. The tears finally felt dried up, for now as they slowly made their way towards the RV. Shadow walked away to get Nero’s sword. “Next time, maybe I’ll listen when you say retreat.” He said in an attempt to lighten the situation.

“Oh, I doubt you will… The first time I had to force you.” V teased, tempting Nero to give him a playful shove but he refrained.

They were both hurt, bruised and exhausted but alive. And that was the way Nero wanted it to continue, working together with friends while devil hunting sure made it feel more fulfilling. Scarier at times, but still more positive than not.

As for V, he blinked away the damp feeling in his eyes, not following his own advice. Knowing he had support, a shoulder to hold on to spread such a warmth in his heart he didn’t feel sure any more words would come to him if prompted. Each step was heavy while Nero supported him towards the RV, Nico and proper treatment. Though most of his body ached, running on low on energy, the cut on his arm throbbing painfully, it all felt mild compared to the pain he had endured in the past. And above all, his heart felt relief it had not known before.

[brief-candle]

ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ - Muzan Kibutsuji

the longest of my boys

took a reallllllly long time too lol. was it worth it? maybe.

had to fix about 20,000 mistakes because as an english person i accidentally kept using american versions and you know we don’t let that slide round these parts

series: demon slayer/ kimetsu no yaiba

notes: yandere, muzan being a dick, muzan in general, many minor character deaths, some gore, self-deprecation, starving.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

It was a dark night; murky and thick was the fog that surrounded you and your fellow demon slayers. You were all rather low down in the ranks, mostly due to lack of experience rather than any lack of effort. The moon hung in the sky as if on an invisible string, a full and bright circle.

"The moon is pretty tonight, isn't it?" Said one of your teammates after more silence than she seemed able to handle. You believed her name was Hanako, though you weren't quite sure. 

Another person merely grunted in response, and another elbowed him swiftly after. 

"Yeah, I think so," that person spoke, not sparing a glance upwards. He only looked towards 'Hanako', seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from her. She only giggled as everyone moved forward,  "Focus, everyone," another person who had taken upon himself the role of the leader had piped up, "the demon's said to be around here. Stay sharp."

Yes, stay sharp. That was the most vital thing when looking for a demon. It was always a case of spotting it before it spotted you; the first blow could very easily be the last. 

"I'm sure it'll be fine. They only sent us Mizunoto, after all," Hanako reasoned, voice light and without an ounce of concern. Everyone muttered in agreement with that, then, before another pitched in: "Yeah, besides if anything happens, we've got a Tsuguko on our side!"

It was then that everyone turned and glanced in your direction. You, the girl who didn't talk much, who no one knew much about, either. It was as if everyone had just now remembered you existed, and stared upon you with newfound awe. It's not as if Tsuguko were common, after all. They were probably even rarer than Hashira, even if they were less powerful. There wasn't much else you could do but glance around at all of the curious pairs of eyes and nod in acknowledgment. Hopefully you wouldn't have to put your training to the test, and you could just be there as a background character instead. That would mean there was no threat, after all.

Thankfully they all looked away soon after, suddenly disinterested. Not that it was extremely shocking; You didn't have the most striking or memorable appearance. Plus you weren't exactly being talkative or upholding a constant flow of conversation with your intriguing personality. Instead you were just following everyone else, two steps behind, beginning to berate yourself for... well, berating yourself. How could you even think of becoming one of the Hashira when you couldn't even stand up to yourself for yourself? It was a miracle that your teacher had even seen any potential in you in the first place. You'd barely been able to hold a sword steady before then, and had survived the Final Selection through luck alone. There really was no hope for-

Putrid.

You slapped your hand onto your nose, cringing immensely from the odour seeping through the air. The Mizunoto ahead didn't even seem to notice you'd stopped, and only one or two appeared to be aware of the disgusting stench ruining the forest air. You could barely call out to them as you were- the more of it that filled your lungs, the closer you got to vomiting. And if there was one thing you didn't need to be known for, it was throwing up before even encountering a demon.

But that smell was unlike anything you'd sniffed out before. It was almost suffocating from a single breath.

"Hey, everyone!" You finally called out, a desperate and breathless outburst that made you want to shrivel up and seep into the floor you stood upon. Especially when their gazes were filled with concern and confusion. But here, you had to cast the shadows lurking in the crevasses of your mind out to focus on the situation: there was no doubt that there was a powerful demon nearby. Extremely powerful- more powerful than any demon you'd come across yet. Maybe even more powerful than any demon you'd come across even in the distant future.

Who are you kidding- such a thing is foolish to think.

“Please... be cautious. I think there's a very powerful demon nearby.” Your mouth was running away with you again, leaving your brain in the dirt as it struggled to catch up and come up with any half-decent sentences to convince your companions to be wary, "Don't hesitate to withdraw if need be." 

For a moment, it was silent. You were almost convinced that everyone had died where they stood before one of them began to laugh.

“Of course there's not a powerful demon around- why would they send Mizunoto to an area full of demons we wouldn't be able to defeat?” He spat, tone scornful and expression condescending. To be completely blunt, he was an idiot, especially as he continued: “And withdraw? Really? Why the hell would we withdraw? What do you take us for? A bunch of cowards?”

Yet his harsh words seemed to spur on the rest of the Mizunoto, who began to chuckle with him. But even still, he wasn't done.

“Real demon slayers don't run from a challenge- they find a way around it. They're skilled enough to find a way around it. How do you think we passed the Final Selection?" 

“To be honest, through luck.” The words flew from your mouth before you could catch them and shove them down to your chests. “Real demon slayers, as you put it, don't charge into battle without a plan. But even a plan isn't good enough all the time. Real demon slayers know when to quit and withdraw.” Your hands seemed to be flying everywhere, at this point very much out of your control. This time the people's eyes were upon you as you began to fume more and more, the demon slayer who you'd very quickly shut up could only stare on, shocked. “But sure, if you wanna go and get yourself get killed for something as idiotic and worthless as your damned pride, then go right on ahead. Be my guest!" With each word, you jabbed your finger more and more aggressively in his direction, your scowl deepening to such an extent that you never thought it'd straighten out again, “But I refuse to die with you! I'd much rather actually do something with my life rather than waste it through one stupid mistake, thank you very much!”

He looked dumbfounded still, mouth gaping similarly to that of a fish. And he made about as much sound as one, too. Everyone else seemed to be in a similar state, looking between one another as if to say: 'is this the same person from just a few minutes ago?' It certainly wasn't unfounded, either, as even you were taken aback by your own outburst. But you certainly weren't remorseful. It was hard enough to train with someone who zoned out constantly, who only gave praise through his silence, who only seemed to think for himself. Never mind being on a mission with people you don't even know, who don't know what you've experienced yet still look down on you for giving them an ounce of your common sense. To say the least, it was infuriating.

He'd taken it gracefully, all things considered. From the now-distant look in his eyes, you also assumed that you'd given him some food for thought as well.

Even though the tension in the air had considerably heightened after your outburst, it tasted a little cleaner as it passed into your lungs and it seemed much easier to focus on regulating your breathing back to its usual rhythm. Not even the sounds of chirping birds filled the silence. It was as if there were no birds in the area at all. Such a thing was so far-fetched that you couldn't tell if it made you want to laugh at its ridiculousness or if it just egged on the part of your mind that was determined that everything was going to go wrong. Either way, you ended up shrugging it off, trudging on with the group in silence.

“What's this demon all about then?” Someone had asked, whether to simply fill the silence or out of genuine curiosity was unknown.

Another demon slayer that you didn't know anything about took it upon himself to reply, "Dunno, probably just some new demon who's gone on a mini rampage."

You felt your eyebrows furrow and lips purse with disapproval with the way he phrased it . However you didn't call him out; you'd made enough of a bad impression as is, never mind attacking someone over how they phrased a demon slaughtering innocent people. With that in mind, you straightened out your facial features with a small sigh. Your first mission again after months of stressful training, and you were being this moody.

Mind lost in the clouds, you didn't see the massive root of the tree sticking several inches out of the dirt. Not even a second passed as the ground rushed up to meet your face. The dirt beckoned, calling out to you mockingly. You were so useless that you tripped over the root of a tree when people several ranks below you hadn't fumbled once. How could you even think that you could protect them if everything went pear-shaped if you can't even notice a root when you're simply daydreaming? The audacity!

That was another thing you'd have to ask Muichiro to teach you.

Well, at least it wasn't all bad- you'd managed to catch yourself with your hands and shoot back onto your feet before anyone had turned around to spot you in such a pathetic state.

Rancid.

That filthy stench was back again, stronger than before. You'd forgotten it had existed between now and the last time. It was overpowering, and you barely held back from gagging from the first lungful.  “What's that smell?” 'Hanako' seemed in a similar state, but on the worse end of it. She'd gone deathly pale, and was visibly trembling. Upon looking closer, her eyes were watering as well, and her hand was clutched around her nose like a vice. A different person had his hands clutched over his ears, and was curled in on himself.

“W-what's wrong with everyone?” Someone, clearly unaffected by the demon's nearby presence, stuttered. It was then that you realised how you all must look to those whose senses weren't so heightened: several people looking extremely ill so suddenly when you'd all barely set foot onto the site of your mission. 

There's a dangerous demon in the area! 

Your vision was only just clearing up from the swift and sudden headache that came with the exposure to such a potent smell. There was no way you could pull yourself together; there was no way you'd be any use at all.

It's probably too dangerous for anyone else to take on! 

Yes, but there was no chance in hell that you could take it on either, was there?

If it appears and you're in this state-

That's right- you're right. Here you were, hunched over, in a worse state than the majority of the Mizunoto, with your level of experience and the privilege of being a Tsuguko. It was cowardly. Yes, you should be careful, but that doesn't mean you should be so downright pathetic in that you're so reluctant to fight a more powerful demon than usual for a few moments so that everyone can escape.

-everyone will die. 

And it'd be all your fault, too.

That, if nothing else, gave you the strength to straighten your back and stand tall. You stood taller than you had for months. Perhaps the false bravado you plastered onto your exterior would trick your muscles into halting their quivering and force the adrenaline through your veins. All the help your body could provide would be greatly appreciated, for this could very well be your final fight.

I might not even become a Hashira...

No, but what would that matter in the end? It's not as if you were ready to become a Hashira anyway, though you liked the thought of eventually being that strong. But today, in this moment, none of that mattered. What mattered was protecting humanity.

That was what a demon slayer of any caliber strived for, wasn't it?

The bravado you had strung up almost collapsed when you saw it stood there, through the trees. Ghostly pale as the moon itself, clad in a white hat to match his trousers, contrasting with a black suit jacket and curly hair like ink. It faced away from you all, so you couldn't see its face, but the sense of dread that filled your stomach was burning as it rushed through your body.

Run. 

You almost listened, instinct to survive barely stomped upon by a trained mind. In these moments when you wanted to run away most, you had to remain the most calm you'd ever be. To show cowardice and fear is to hand defeat to these beasts upon a silver platter.

“Everyone,” your voice was softer than you'd remembered, mellow as you strolled through each word, “get yourselves out of here. Don't waste a single moment; return to headquarters, seek out a Hashira or even Oyakata-sama himself.”

It was incredible how in a moment of peril they all listened to you, hung onto every word. For a brief second, you contemplated if this was how Kagaya Ubuyashiki himself felt, being the centre of attention with every slight movement. “Whatever you do, you must make haste and warn them,” you weren't sure how exactly you knew who the demon was, but your gut screamed the name at you until it shook your very core, “that on this mission we encountered not the demon we were to be hunting, but Kibutsuji Muzan. This is of the utmost importance. And I-"

You had to swallow and pause, almost choking on those words. It was a moment of hesitance to continue, to admit such a thing to not only them, but yourself also. Yet it needed to be said, for if not now, then perhaps never.

“I may very well not follow you out of this forest.”

The tears threatened you at the corner of your eyes, of exposing your frail heart even more in front of these strangers who felt closer to you than your mentor had felt most of the time.

"So treat this as my final request, alright?"

Your voice definitely wavered there, the prospect of dying looming over your head as if it were the Grim Reaper himself, sharpening his scythe with deafening and long strokes. The Mizunoto were silent, like the dead, for several seconds. It was as if the air had been stolen from their lungs and left them physically incapable of speech. This usually wouldn't be an issue, if you weren't anxiously counting down the seconds until the demon reared its head and lunged.

"(L/N)-san..." 'Hanako' had uttered. You felt sorry for her, there. She'd gone and learned your name yet you hadn't bothered to offer her the same courtesy. If only you had the time here to apologise to each and every one of them, for not giving them the time of day to listen to them, to learn who they were. They were like you, each with their own sob stories of ambition and loss that they'd yet to fully live out.

Would you live yours out, or would the curtain fall in just a few short minutes? Or were you being cocky by even giving yourself that long?

“We'll do it." Ah, it was that Mizunoto from before. The one you'd snapped at. You hoped he'd look back on it positively, and learn from it, rather than resent you for lashing out with no prior warning. You saw none of the latter in his eyes- he had such kind eyes- and you almost opened your eyes' floodgates then and there. But you held them tightly shut as you whispered your appreciation.

“Be safe. Take care of each other. I hope to see you all in a few days, okay?”

“Yes. The best of luck, (L/N)-san.” Was the overall message you got from their mumbles as they passed. Their footsteps through the greenery echoed in your ears like thunder, but your own were like their own volcanic eruptions, all melting into each other to form one deafening mess.

Keep calm. That was the first thing you'd been taught. It was the most relevant now, considering you'd mastered the others.

You knew he knew you were there, and approaching. There was no point in adding in some fancy stealth footwork if your target could sniff you out in an instant. Yet that didn't mean you approached without caution- that would be hypocritical of you, wouldn't it? So with one hand grasped firmly on the hilt of your sword, you inched forwards until you were some meters away. Close enough to lunge forward, but far enough that you'd see an attack coming. The silence was thick, tense. You had no desire to fill it, never mind any ideas of what to fill it with. How do you break the ice with a demon, anyway? Oh, lovely weather tonight, isn't it? How many humans have you maimed and tucked into recently? It was such a ridiculous concept that you almost laughed at the mere thought. But in front of Kibutsuji Muzan, as a demon slayer? You already had enough of a death wish by merely standing there.

“Do you really think you're enough to hold me back from those running away?”

You really didn't expect him to talk, especially not while you were internally coming up with demon ice breakers instead of tactics. Why did you distract yourself with something so stupid in such a serious moment? You even had to hold yourself back from asking him to repeat what he said, and by the time you'd recalled what he'd said you'd pretty much ran out of time to respond. And you could tell he wasn't happy with that.

"Well..." what could you possibly respond with here?! Saying 'yes, actually' was way too cocky, way too stupid, and way too big of a lie. So you remain with a, “not really. Hopefully they're quick enough to get away before I have to do any 'holding back', as you put it.” By the latter part, you really meant 'before I'm dead', but it'd come across too weak to say that.

“Don't be foolish,” his voice was smooth and monotonous, yet condescending in every aspect of the word, “they won't set foot out of this forest alive.”

In a way, you were confident he was wrong; you hadn't travelled far into the forest before encountering him, so they didn't have far to go to prove him wrong.

In an act of boldness, which you very shortly after relabelled as foolishness, you blurted out the question: “and what makes you so sure?”

They were a bright shade of red, were his eyes. A saturated crimson that drew the eye, even away from the narrow slits taking the place of his written. They added some colour to the otherwise monochromatic him, and you weren't quite sure if it added to or took away from your near paralysing terror.

Definitely added, you decided, as you whipped your sword from its sheath to block his hand. If your eyes hadn't caught it and your mind not been prepared, it would have been a swift death- an irreparable slash to the jugular. The reality you were facing was beginning to seep in now, no matter how you tried to block it out: the chances you would die at any conceivable moment was incredibly high. The amount of Hashira this man (though you detested likening demons to humans) had mangled and demolished probably outnumbered the total number of people you'd even spoken to. Such a terrifying thought caused your hands to tremble, weakening your hold on the blade. None of you missed this, and just as he moved to shatter your blade with ease, you shot to the side. In fact, your desire to move pulled your upper body faster than your feet could carry, causing you to lose your footing. It was momentary- you soon scampered back to your feet- but it had allowed him to move closer and prepare another ruthless attack. One that was sure to kill if it landed.

You had to move. To move faster, and quicker than you'd moved before, to keep light on your feet with a head clear of doubt. Only then could you keep yourself alive.

Your feet led you to retreat, narrowly escaping those cobalt claws again through a backwards leap. You must be graceful, yet each attack must be as strong as a thousand years of work, for you must challenge someone with a thousand years of slaughter. With a goal and half-baked plan clear in mind, you seized the grip of your sword, shifted your feet away from each other and focussed your breathing. Your subconscious usually handled this with ease, but you couldn't rely on just that. You had to charge your breathing technique into overtime, even if your limbs felt like they would fall apart with a simple touch, even if you collapsed under your own weight and couldn't move even a toe for several days. Because then, at least you'd be alive.

Sixth Form. 

He's approaching. 

Allow him, you thought. As long as you had a chance of pushing him back, of stalling him whilst you fled after your comrades.

Sea of ​​Clouds and Haze.

Such a menacing aura felt as if it was a hair away, though you learned not to judge from that alone as you dashed forwards. Just because it felt so suffocating, didn't mean he was close enough to do that. After all, at his level, he didn't need to be.

You couldn't avoid the slash at your face his talons had left, but you forced yourself to grit your teeth and ignore the severe pain leaking from your forehead.

I'm still alive.

The blade required much more force than you were used to providing to even pierce his skin, yet the adrenaline coursing through your veins aided you massively. You forced yourself onward, unleashing attack after attack. It was a whirlwind of a technique that you'd not yet quite mastered, and you were determined to. Because you'd live past this, you had to! What would all that torturous training be worth otherwise, after all?

.

.

.

A demon slayer of any calibre strove to protect humanity, didn't they?

The stronger demon slayers protect the weaker ones as well, who protect those weaker than them. That's how the cycle worked, wasn't it?

But then why was no one coming to your help?

By this point you weren't sure how much time had passed since you started fighting the original demon. Though 'fighting' probably wasn't the correct term, as it was more of a one-handed beating since your first attack. You must have pissed him off so much by actually cutting him a wee bit that he didn't give you chance to even launch the quickest, and what you thought was the simplest, move. That was an achievement in and of itself, right? You wondered if Muichiro would praise you for that, or whether he'd tell you to get up and continue.

Even with your dominant hand twisted beyond repair, so much so that you wondered if everything would reattach if you somehow got out of this.

Even with your tibia, snapped not-so-cleanly in two, breaking out of your skin. At least, you thought it was your tibia. You only read an anatomy book once years ago, before even thinking of joining the Corps. Your bone didn't look quite like how they were illustrated in the book, with their clean lines and minimum shading. Then again, they didn't really draw bone with edges so jagged that there must be fragments dotted around somewhere in your swelling, bruised leg. Though what part of you wasn't bruised and swelling? What part of you wasn't caked in your drying blood?

You'd been cocky, hadn't you? To think you'd escape a fight with Kibutsuji Muzan as a mere Tsuguko when esteemed Hashira hadn't come close. It was foolish. You'd always prided yourself on being too cautious, telling yourself you had to be with your mediocre skills. Perhaps it was the moment of hesitation rather than launching your next attack immediately that brought you down. That moment where you swelled with pride, thinking 'I really do have potential!' only to be beaten so brutally. You wondered with morbid curiosity on how messed up your face looked. And you wondered with dried-up tear ducts whether Muichiro would mourn your death even a little, whether he'd become attached to you at all through the time you'd spent together.

You wondered what he saw in you in the first place.

There was movement in the upper range of your sight, just out of reach as to what it was. You'd look up, but you weren't sure you could even move your neck at that point. Though it wasn't as if you had a choice. “Humans are pitifully weak creatures aren't they?” Ah, how smooth his voice was. It was calming to listen to now. Perhaps it was due to having very little to worry about now, now that you could almost see the falling of the red velvet curtains. You felt like you wanted to nod, to agree with him, anything to keep from the silence. The silence brought your current existence into question.

“You always sought validation, didn't you? Validation that the demon slayers never gave you.” He spoke the truth, with words spun like silk. How many times had he said those very sentences? And how many times would he say them further?

"Always so worried about how weak you were, how much of a failure to your title you were." It was like he knew you as well as you knew yourself, and you clung onto every word, convinced that you'd finally found someone who understood you. In that moment, you had forgotten who he was, too delirious from pain and blood loss to care if he were the most manipulative demon or the most angelic person.

"But you have potential, one that can grow with my help."

You could be strong? You? How strong? How many lives could you save with that power? How many people would look up to you and think: 'Wow, I want to be like her'?

“So, what do you say?” Your vision, fading in and out of focus, was filled with the image of that pale hand, dancing around and shifting into two before merging back into one. 

There was no argument within when you somehow found the energy to grasp it. 

.

.

.

"Are you starving yourself again?"

Don't answer. 

You didn't have the energy to answer, nor the will. You didn't care about the trouble it'd get you in with him, nor the repercussions from it.

“Answer me, (Y/N).” His voice, silky as ever, held that dangerous tone to it as he uttered each word.

Don't answer. 

In an instant, your face was captured by one hand, eyes that were now filled with such an extraordinary amount of fear being raised to meet furious crimson irises. Veins stood raised upon his alabaster face, lips drawn back into a snarl.

“Did you not hear me?” Rage dripped from every syllable, fingers tightening with the passing seconds. He'd probably break your jaw again as punishment, thereby giving you an excuse not to answer him. "It's useless- such a stupid thing won't bring them back."

You felt the muscles in your face jerk at that comment, images of the Mizunoto you'd tried to help escape flashing through your mind. Your senses tingled as a reminder: the sight of their faces as they saw you approach, initially filled with relief, before swiftly switching to fear, then the expression of pain and anguish that'd forever be etched into their skin; the sounds of their screams, of tearing flesh and snapping bones, of pleas of mercy, apologies to families that would never know exactly what had happened to their children, siblings, cousins; the smell of their blood that seemed so irresistible, so delectable as it seeped into the midnight air; the texture of their skin, how easily they fell apart with the slightest pressure; the taste of their corpses, of those unfortunate enough to still be alive as you tore through them.

It was his features changing that had brought you back to the present, sitting in your new room where you busied yourself through hiding away from the sun and wasting yourself away through starvation. His expression had shifted from incomprehensible anger to smug satisfaction, eyes glued to the lower part of your face.

As a string hit the back of your palm, so did the realisation of why: you were drooling. Drooling over the taste of the comrades you had murdered with your own two hands. No one had forced you to- Muzan hadn't told you to- you simply shot through the forest like a bat out of hell after being turned, your injuries not even fully recovered.

“Oh dear, aren't you disgusting? No manners at all,” it wasn't even teasing with Muzan, no matter how much of a lilt he put onto his voice, it was always mocking, "Really, did anyone even try to teach you such a simple concept?" You knew better than to answer the obviously rhetorical question. The last time you had done that, Muzan ripped out your tongue without a moment's hesitation. If you were to lie and say that no one had taught you, Muzan would gouge out your eyes. Sometimes there was no way to please him other than silence, and there was definitely no way to please him other than complete subservience. Muzan didn't tolerate disobedience in any way, shape or form. You often wondered why he'd kept you around so long, which was what you were doing now as you apologised profusely and wiped your mouth with your handkerchief, especially with how long it took you to completely adapt to the Muzan's-way-or-no-way lifestyle, but that didn't mean by any means that he was gentle with you.

If you weren't as acquainted with him as you were, you'd say he was delusionally and disturbingly infatuated with you, but as he twisted your head to face his and crushed your lips with his, you reminded yourself of your doubt that Muzan can feel such things. As you obediently and swiftly parted your lips for him, careful not to take too long lest he reprimands and punishes you again, you believe the only thing he feels with you is the satisfaction of being fully and completely in control.

[neshabeingchildish]

League of Extraordinary Geniuses || Chapter 3

I’m very sorry if I’m pushing these out too soon. I can’t undo them as they come out. Whenever I’m off this week, I hope to work on other projects. This one kind of establishes something pretty important to me, even though a lot of it is perspectives from the characters and it shows some of Chase’s less flattering traits, but don’t worry. I’m not gonna do him dirty in the long run. I’ve already began on the next chapter and that one they’ll begin getting into more of the work. @kiddangers @sunbeameyes @just-a-j-reallly

The P Word

"This is like that scene in Romeo and Juliet," Chase said. Charlotte knew that he'd been there, so he didn't startle her, and she didn't pretend to not know he was there.

"I sure do hope not," she told him, "They had a bad time."

"I've honestly always wondered why it's considered a love story and not a horrific one," he said and levitated himself up to the terrace.

"Because of the people in charge," she said with a slight smirk.

"Is that your answer for anything, now?"

"Anything wrong with the world," she told him, shrugged her shoulders and looked at the moon again. "And it isn't my answer so much as THE answer." She turned to look at him again. "If you're concerned about your capsule, I promise you it's fully functional. We just made sure to program it to keep you in slumber mode until your body reached optimal equilibrium." She poked him playfully on the chest and told him, "You don't get enough sleep."

"So, you're making me?"

"The capsule is making you, but yeah…" she looked bothered suddenly. "If you want to undo it, you can override stasis mode."

"No. It's fine."

"It's just… important to me that you don't feel like I'm trying to force my will on you, be it this, or anything else. I just want you to make the best decisions for you, yourself."

"I get it… and I appreciate it, more than you know."

She smiled and glanced at her bedroom. She had enough of the moon, for now. She picked up a basin of water that he hadn't previously noticed from on the rail and headed inside. Chase followed, unsure of how to broach the subject… She poured some of the water into a tall, transparent and smooth glass on her nightstand and the rest into a canister that had "Moon Water" on the label, with drawings of the moon and stars stickers decorating it. She gave him a curious look as she put the canister away in an armoire. "What's on your mind? 

He thought for a moment while she also put the empty basin away. "I came to apologize, but there's no good way to do it. I feel extremely silly for what I said earlier." She paused in front of the armoire, closed the doors and smiled at him. 

"I've had people that I care about much less say much worse things to me."

"I don't want to be a person who says bad things to you," he told her. "I don't want to be a person who says ignorant things or intolerant things. I misspoke and I wasn't fully thinking. I should never open my mouth unless I've processed things. I hope you can forgive me."

Her eyes were glazed over and she nodded her head, "I've forgiven terrible stuff to people I didn't love. Don't worry about it." He smiled at the insinuation that she loves him, even if she only meant as a friend. "I'm used to being misunderstood, and I knew that it didn't come from a place of malcontent."

He reached out for her hand, allowing her the chance to take it, which she did and he stared at her. "You can always tell me what's on your mind, even when I hurt you. Especially when I hurt you. I hated not knowing what I said or how it was affecting you. Just seeing you look at me that way… you're one of the few people that I don't disappoint. I don't ever want to do that unchecked."

"I didn't respond because I didn't want to put words between us that I couldn't retract. Then, I'd be feeling like I guess you must be." She laughed a little and strummed his hand with her thumb. He was always impressed by how smooth her skin was. How perfect it felt to his heightened senses. He didn't frequently use or need that one. Mostly, it was for precise science in special conditions. But, whenever he had the opportunity to touch Charlotte, he naturally used it. She had the least amount of dead cells on her than anyone he knew, a fact that she told him was because she exfoliated religously. Praise whoever was responsible for that! Her… he guessed, now that he thought about it. 

"I'm feeling better now. I like it when you let me hold your hand."

"I'm not "letting you hold my hand." WE are holding hands. This isn't some favor that I'm handing you. It's a mutually beneficial show of affection between friends." She noticed the flicker of something in his eyes. It was brief, but they'd been gazing at each other, so she couldn't have not noticed. It was because of her use of the word "friends," but that's what they were. And he was one of her most valued ones. He loved that, he did. But, he wanted more. She knew he wanted more, but she didn't know if he was ready for everything that came along with somebody like her. She could be… a lot, and he still had so much social disconnect.

Changing the subject, he wondered, "Will you tell me? What you were thinking?"

She sighed. "Just that it was unpleasant to have to hear something like that from you. I have a lot of things that people have tried to get me to shove down. Everything that I do has been policed my entire life, same for my ancestors. I.. have so many things that I've had to learn to love about myself, to accept about myself and to work through for myself because of the fact that for as long as I could remember, somebody, anybody, sometimes everybody wanted me in a box. My race, gender, sexuality, romantic affiliation, relationship culture, spirituality, practices, ethics, culture, upbringing… every facet. So, to hear that you felt like I couldn't understand having that happen and processed for me was… hurtful." 

He moved his free hand to cup her face and they stared at each other. She whispered, "How else did you figure I seem to understand you so well?"

"I'm sorry," he said. He placed his forehead against hers and confessed, "I think I was so frightened by the mission that I panicked and forgot my senses. Of course, I don't actually think that about you. I just… I don't like to admit when something seems impossible to me. Changing the world, in the way that you described… the probability of success…"

"Will rise more and more with each assignment and each recruit," she finished his statement to try to help appease his fears. "I can guarantee that." He nodded his head, but didn't move it from hers. "I promise," she reiterated.

"Even if I knew that I would die trying, I would still say yes to you," he told her, as his other hand moved to cup the other side of her face.

"Why is that?" She asked, curiously, not teasingly.

"I can't say no to you…" he said and leaned forward a little bit.

"I can say no to you… when it's for your own good." She backed her face from his lips and his hands, but took them into hers, "I'm asking you as a qualified and trusted partner in the effort. Not as a woman that you care about, abusing that knowledge. I wouldn't lead you on to get what I want from you, Chase. I also wouldn't pretend that we want the same things."

He gently pulled his hands out of hers and nodded, "I understand. You.. don't want me. That doesn't change anything. I'm still here for you." She smiled, sadly. It wasn't that she didn't want him… "Is it because of Max?" His jaw clenched when he said this name.

"Not.. really. It's because of you. You're very committed and pure. Very sweet and loyal." 

"Aren't you those things, as well?"

"Yes, but… not necessarily to one person at a time…" she bit her lip and tilted her head, "I'm… polyamourus, Chase. I am comfortable being involved romantically with more than one person. I prefer it, and I'm used to it. It's not something that I ask of other people, and I've never gotten the feeling that it's something that you would be comfortable with."

"You… have multiple partners…" he said.

She nodded, "I am most comfortable with multiple partners, and I have to warn others when they show serious interest in me, or make a move… I'm not going to suddenly just want to be with one person monogamously, just because I have strong feelings for them. I have enough passion to have strong feelings for everyone that I have them for."

"And do you have them for Max?" 

She laughed and covered her forehead, "Chase, it isn't about Max. It's about ME."

"I know, but do you?"

"Yes. I love Max, very much and I have for years," she said, nodding her head.

"And is he okay with.. your… relationship desires?" 

She covered her mouth as she answered, "I feel like you're still focused on the wrong thing. The question you need to ask yourself before ever getting as close to me as you almost did is if you are okay with it." She reached for a book of matches and tucked her hands in between her legs. "I'm patient and rarely lonely. You don't have to answer it for me. You have to answer it for you. And if it turns out that you still… want to say yes to me, we can talk about it at that time." 

Chase was not the first person who she had to break this news to, and because she was in high demand and full of qualities, she knew that he wouldn’t be the last. She hated seeing him look so crestfallen, but he was not someone that she would ever lie to. She loved and respected him too much to do that. 

She saw him out and went to light her handmade incense, and a white candle. She laid down to rest, trying to release the energy of having to sort of let him down gently. She wished that hadn’t happened, but also… Chase was the type who was very territorial and jealous - she had seen it for herself from almost the instant that he had met Max, and to pretend like she could believe he would be fine with sharing her wouldn’t be fair to her or to him. She tried to focus on the positive things in her life and gave thanks for those. Confident that she would find peace in her dreams, she fell to sleep for the night.

.

In the morning, Charlotte got up, took the water from the nightstand and threw it off of the terrace. It splashed against the ground and she took the glass back inside, grabbed the basin from her armoire, and she washed the glass in it. When it was clean, she put it away, dumped the basin over the terrace, as well, cleaned it out and put it up. She cleared her nightstand of her sleeping spell and replaced it with an orange candle with flowers and crystals in it. That, she lit, now for her morning ritual. 

Silence. Affirmations. Visualization. Exercise. Reading. Scribing (Journaling). The entire process took about an hour and when she was done, she would always cover the candle with a see through snuffer. It was big enough to cover the entire candle and she would pick up the candle dish, step outside and open the lid to let the smoke out into the air. 

Once back inside, a shower, moisturizing, styling her hair and getting dressed were up next, and she topped it off with a few spritzes of her custom fragrance blend of ylang ylang, jasmine, vetiver, and sandalwood in rosewater from a fancy, old fashioned perfume bottle with a squeeze pump through a nozzle. 

Charlotte practically pranced through the courtyard to get back to the guys. She came through the doors, the sunshine blaring through when they opened, and saw Max and Chase, standing awfully close to each other’s faces. They would’ve almost looked like they were ready to kiss, except their expressions were the opposite of that sentiment. “Good morning?” She said. Chase continued to glare Max down, but Max scoffed, took a step back and looked at Charlotte. His own glare melted away and his eyes brightened. She was all glowy… Beaming and shit. Her skin was radiant, her eyes were twinkling, her jewelry sparkling, and her hair gleaming. But, her expression was bothered. He didn’t want to be a part of dulling this image. 

“Good morning!” He cheered, with a smile. “Ready for breakfast?” He asked, pointing finger guns at her and shaking them. 

She looked at Chase and Chase avoided looking at her at all. Then, she remembered the last time that they spoke. What had happened, and she wasn’t sure if him avoiding looking at her was because of that or because of whatever TF she had just interrupted. “So… Is no one really going to tell me what the heck is going on?” Chase and Max both looked at each other…

.

Max got up pretty early. For some reason, his brain was usually a go anywhere from 4 am to sunrise (he just would wake up and have to record multiple ideas, or realize that he figured out an equation for a gadget while he dreamt, or just be filled with the energy to have to think of something new that he could tackle next. 

If he had it his way, he’d never wake up early, but his mental processing and creative juices had other plans. He always woke up before the world did and he was always filled with urgency to do things when he did. Some of his best brainstorms occurred upon waking up with a start. Today was no different. He got up, began recording notes for several of his experiments in progress, checked his website and answered some questions from science heads that followed his gadget series, and sketched some designs for new ideas in his project sketchbook, and when the sun began to come up, his mind began to settle down enough for him to not lose excitement, but to focus on getting ready for the day. (This usually happened much later in the day, but anytime that he was spending at Charlotte’s, his body knew to chill out sooner, so that he could see more of her). He couldn’t really explain it, but maybe it was desire based. She was the only thing that he wanted more than to create and invent, so he was able to taper that passion whenever he knew that he would be able to see her sooner, if he did. 

She usually arose either with the sun, or after it peeked into her windows and warmed her back to consciousness, so he tossed the sketchbook aside and grabbed some clothes into his fist to wash up. 

Max generally liked to soak in a bath, then wash off in the shower. It was kind of a waste of water, but it was what he enjoyed doing. Plus, Charlotte being the super nerd that she was, she had her bathrooms set up like those prefect ones in the books, and he just felt like a little kid having a blast in a huge bathtub with these ridiculous soaps faucets. The scents would fill the entire room and he knew this was the height of luxury and that he needed to memorize every single sensation for whenever he was back in his lesser bathtub. 

After the shower, his hair was pretty much just wet and tousled. He heated his hands with his heat breath and ran them through the coif, flirted with himself in the mirror, summoned his phone to himself and strutted out of his guest chambers towards the lab. He was singing to himself and scrolling through, liking Charlotte’s morning posts, which were usually something inspirational for her fanbase and sometimes something artsy like a burning candle or a bird that landed on her terrace or something. She usually posted 3 things, and it was generally right before she left her quarters, because she tended to leave the phone behind whenever she was on a break. He was liking those and bumped right into something, lost his balance and dropped his phone when he almost fell. He groaned as he caught his footing and looked up to see Chase. “Are you drunk?” Chase asked him.

“What? I was looking at my phone. What’s your excuse? You have super freakin’ senses. None of the five let you know that I was right in front of you?” Max snatched his phone from the floor and checked it for damage.

“Maybe you’re just so insignificant that you didn’t register to any of my senses!” Chase snarled at him. 

Max furrowed his eyebrows and slipped his phone into his back pocket. The last time he’d seen him, they’d been fine. What the hell was this moody shit in front of him? “Excuse you?” Max asked. “Can you repeat it with your big boy voice? I’m afraid my hearing isn’t as good as yours is supposed to be.”

Chase wanted to escalate this. He wanted a reason to fight with Max, but also… That wouldn’t prove anything but that he was childish, and also that he was exactly what Charlotte thought he was when she rejected him last night. “Look. I didn’t notice you, okay? That's that.”

Max stepped closer and shook his head, “No. Not okay. You could’ve said that in the first place and I wouldn’t have had anything to say, but you called me insignificant? Because I bumped into you in the hallway? I don’t feel like that was called for.”

“I’m sorry,” Chase said. 

Max folded his arms and just sized him up. “What’s your problem this morning?”

“No problem. Simple mistake. My fault,” Chase said. 

Max was still studying him. His body language was all messed up. He looked tense and a little fidgety, and he was clenching and unclenching his fists. “What happened last night when you went to apologize to Charlotte?” Max asked, actually concerned, but Chase got super defensive.

“None of your business!” he snapped.

Max laughed and that just pissed Chase off more. He knew he was being childish and he knew that Max was more than likely laughing at the discomfort of the situation and the absurdity of his behavior, but still… he had not enjoyed his morning and the last thing he wanted to do was even look at Max, much less to bump into him, and now he felt scrutinized by him. Max rolled his eyes, stepped aside and muttered, “Whatever she did, you deserved it. Freakin’ weirdo…” He was going to walk away, when Chase turned him around and both of them were on the ready to attack. 

Max wasn’t sure how or why they got to this place, but if Chase was going to attack him, he certainly was about to defend himself. “Walk. Away. I swear to god…” Max said through his teeth. Their noses were practically touching. Neither flinched. Chase wasn’t sure what he planned on doing… The smart thing would be to just walk away. What was he gonna do? Fight, in this brand new castle? Over like… school type stuff? 

“Good morning?” he heard, off to the side. He flinched at the sound of her voice. He forced himself not to look at her, though he could imagine her face and he felt like she probably knew that he was just here, in a bad mood trying to bring down Max’s day, as well. And… she probably would lose so much respect for him. Max was right. He did deserve for her to turn him down. He was unsure of why he had even let himself for a moment think that she might not. 

“So… Is no one really going to tell me what the heck is going on?” 

He looked at Max to gauge if he looked like he might say exactly what was on his mind. Max was the type to just tell the truth, even if it sucked. Chase felt panicked. He had been messing up this entire time and today was avoidable. He chose to make today this way. Max lifted his nose and looked down towards Chase. “A misunderstanding that you interrupted in time,” Max said. He rolled his eyes at Chase, put his hand in the small of Charlotte’s back and led her towards her kitchen, “I am craving quiche! Quiche good for you, Bionic Boy?” Max asked over his shoulder.

“Sure,” Chase said, in a low voice, trailing behind them. Charlotte turned to look at him. She really wanted to know what had just happened. He couldn’t even think of a way to ever explain that. Maybe she would leave it alone? Because, he’d embarrassed himself enough for one trip.

.

Chase left Charlotte’s quarters frazzled. He couldn’t believe he’d made such an ass of himself and he just wanted to vanish at the moment. He should probably go home. He looked at the missions. Skylar seemed to be doing just fine getting things done while he was “away on business.” He shot her a quick text asking if they needed anything.

“Good to go!” She texted back almost immediately. He checked the reports, and everything looked good, as she had already stated. He couldn’t chill himself out. He was worried about what Charlotte might say tomorrow. Did he mess up something? Did he make it weird? Wouldn’t it be even harder to watch her around Max? Max… She loved him. She said that she did. She didn’t say that he was one of her… prospects, but she did love him and that much was clear, just from seeing them together. And, it was mutual. And… they knew each other for like… seven years, or less, but, still… More than twice as long as Chase had known her. What kind of love did she have for him? Was it the same as the “love” she had for Chase?

He should get into his capsule and rest. The stasis mode would put him to sleep. He couldn’t SLEEP though… He needed more information about polyamory. He turned off stasis mode, climbed into the capsule, washed up, dressed for bed and then began reading every single article, ebook, script to movies and storylines in shows - every single thing that he could find on polyamory. He wound up more confused and more frustrated than whenever she gave him a soft, short definition. He had collected too much information. Some of this was unreliable, and some simply not the way that she was, some of it was ill-conceived or poorly executed and now, ALL of it was in his head and he wouldn’t be able to fact check each of these details against her life, nor would he be able to forget what he had read. He was upset with himself by the time he fell to sleep and as upset by the time his alarm woke him up, because he had not put the capsule back into stasis mode.

Grumpy and tortured by the information, he got out of the capsule and decided to exercise, maybe blow off some of the steam that he had nobody to thank for but himself. He heard an alert on his phone, but ignored it, in lieu of a morning workout routine. Afterwards, he looked at the phone and saw that Charlotte had posted something whenever she got up. Max had liked it. He put his phone away and got ready for the day, making yet another masochistic decision to scan through the two’s social media pages for each other. There were less than seven years, but close to it. Many adorable and cozy photos, a few of them very very close. Some kisses shared that could be casual, could be something else… Basically, a ton of fuel for his jealousy. 

He continued going through each account and saw flirting in comments, suggestive replies to posts and other stuff that let him know… Nope… He certainly couldn’t share her with somebody else. She was right to point that out. 

For crying out loud, he couldn’t even  handle reading through past exchanges that he couldn’t even confirm were anything other than the flirtatious banter of two great friends. 

But, sometimes, Chase would let his thoughts get away with him and make him paranoid and completely irrational. THIS was one of those times. 

He thought about how comfortable Max made himself, not just in Charlotte’s home, but her personal space. He thought about the fact that he was regarded as a rebel and a bad boy of herodom, but all he had seen was an obedient puppy dog with heart eyes and uncontrollable smiling. That wasn’t the demeanor of a friend one loves. That was the demeanor of a friend with benefits, and while Charlotte was well within her rights to do whatever she wanted with whomever, Chase hated the thought of her wanting that with Max and not even so much as a kiss with him! As though the gods hated him in this moment, right as he was simmering in thoughts he fabricated for himself, storming down the hallway, reading when he should just close it all out, he ran headfirst into Max. 

The latter had just been strolling around like he owned the place and got all pissy about this accident. It wasn’t like either of them were paying attention, so who did he think he was that this had to be Chase’s fault? Who do you think he is? He’s the king of this fucking castle. He’s loved. He’s comfortable. This is his domain. He belongs here. She wants him. You’re an imposter and you’re in his space…

But, Chase had to defend himself. Even if it wasn’t Max who was telling him these things, it was Max who was causing him to tell himself these things and he couldn’t take it right now. By the time Max told him he deserved it… Deserved her rejection? Deserved to be in this state of confusion and mental chaos? Deserved to fall in love with someone who told him that she couldn’t let him? He felt like FINALLY. Finally, he could turn the anger he was feeling into something justified and he reached out to grab Max and turn him back around, surprising even himself when he did and making Max’s anger match his. Yes. Yes, now BOTH of us can be super mad. It was slightly a relief whenever Charlotte appeared, because she cut through Max’s tension, at least. The obedient puppy dog with the heart eyes was back and… Chase didn’t know where the hell he was. On the crazy train, apparently. It wasn’t even like he could blame Spike or even either of the two people here. Neither of them did anything to him. He did this to him, and he was disappointed in himself for doing it all. 

“So… Is no one really going to tell me what the heck is going on?”

Max’s deflection was great for him. He wouldn’t keep pushing. He would have breakfast, let them know he wasn’t feeling well, return to the capsule on stasis and get the proper rest that his body needed for equilibrium. It was a wonder that he wasn’t glitching!

Because of his super hearing, he heard her ask, “What was that Max, be honest?”

“I wish I knew. Dude flipped out on me over basically nothing. I don’t think it was about me, honestly. I think it was about you. Last night, he said he was gonna apologize. Last I saw him, I thought we were gonna be cool and this morning, completely different story.”

Charlotte sighed and said, “I had to have the talk with him last night… The P word talk.” 

Max blew a gust of wind out and nodded his head, “Okay, that is a rough one. I’ll give him THIS once, because of that, but… I don't know, Char. I don’t know.”

Charlotte turned to look at him and he avoided eye contact. “Chase,” she said softly. He looked up to see the two of them waiting for him. Now that he knew that they knew what was wrong with him, at least to an extent, he felt a little better, a little bit more ashamed. 

But, he fell into step between the two of them and Max started asking about what ingredients they would be okay with for the quiche. Chase owed him an apology, too, but he was fine with just saying, here and now, “Hey… Sorry that I was acting that way. I don’t know what came over me this morning. I was just jaded and wanted to bring somebody into my misery.”

Max laughed and said, “You’ll find that it’s pretty tough to do that to me, but don’t worry about it. You seem like you had a rough night. I assure you, my breakfast quiche will fix that.”

“Okay,” Chase said, smiling, in spite of himself and everything else. Max threw an arm around his shoulder as they walked and at first, it made Chase jump a little, but he didn’t toss it off of him. Instead, he decided to finally act like he had some good sense and just listen to Max go on about this perfect quiche of his that nobody else can make quite like him. 

Max was right. Chase felt a thousand times better after eating and fell to sleep on a fuzzy couch in the lounge. “Can he hear in his sleep?” Max wondered.

“No. He’s inside of his mind when he sleeps. Sometimes, he has a dream, but mostly, it’s numbers and coding,” she said and strummed Chase’s hair. 

“Do you think he’ll be able to put his feelings aside for the sake of the work?”

“Yeah. You did,” she said. 

Max raised his eyebrows, “ I did? I don’t recall that. I recall powering through, because you were back in Dystopia with your boys and that was that. I didn’t have a choice. I was there to do work that I believed in. Chase doesn’t believe in your work.”

“Not yet. We’ve gotta show him some results. I can keep him occupied with something less hard to swallow, in the meantime.”

Okay… So, what’s our first assignment, to prove to him that he belongs in this thing, with us?” 

“It’s gonna sound a lot like a horrible thing, but in the long run will be a great thing,” she said. 

He winced, “Tell me.” She smiled...

[kyndaris]

Truth Seeker

You would imagine that after playing through most of the Yakuza series during the pandemic, I would have wearied of exploring the same city for the sixth time. Yet there was something special about finally starting Judgment that washed away the malaise I was feeling towards the franchise that started my Kamurocho journey ever since it was praised by a member of PlayStation Access. Perhaps it was because I was playing a different character from the stoic Kiryu Kazuma. Or maybe I would now be thrust in the role of a lawyer-turned-detective in an alternative history of Phoenix Wright if he had allowed Matt Engarde go free at the end of Justice for All. Honestly, Takayuki Yagami’s swagger and more cynical attitude to life was a breath of fresh air. One that allowed Judgment to maintain its more serious narrative and juggle it with the levity peppered throughout that was represented by the side cases.

But first, a little backstory on how I managed to get my hands on the title. In fact, it might be best to think of my quest to pick up the game as one of the side cases that are in the game itself.

 After keeping an eye on its impending release in the West, I made a beeline to the nearest JB Hi-Fi after work. Unfortunately, the one closest to the train station had sold out of all their copies. Why would anyone bother to purchase a relatively unknown title that was not Call of Duty? I cried within the privacy of my mind.

Luckily, two other stores still held copies and I was directed to both - though they were in opposite directions of each other. I picked the one at World Square. It was a gamble, but it was the one that had the most copies was also quite close to an EB Games.

Off I dashed, in my heavy coat, my umbrella propped up until I reached World Square. I stormed the entrance and made my way to the gaming section, the shelves decorated with all kinds of other games to distract me. To my relief, a copy of Judgment was waiting. I picked it up and presented it to the cashier.

With my purchase safely tucked into my bag, I made the slow slog to the train station and returned home. The game would sit on my shelf, gathering dust, until the year after.

Now, back to the game.

Despite many of the assets being reused from the Yakuza franchise, Judgment still felt fresh. After experimenting with their new engine, Ryu Ga Gotoku studio in Yakuza 6, they were able to take advantage of what they had learned. The narrative starts off with Yagami locating a fellow detective that owes money to a gang. Players soon learn that a killer is stalking the streets of Kamurocho, his signature being the removal of the victim’s eyes. When the captain of the Matsugane family is fingered as the culprit, a yakuza family with which Yagami has ties to, our main character is drawn into a conspiracy involving a drug to cure Alzheimer’s and a mysterious connection to a previous case three years ago that forced him to leave his lawyer days behind him.

From the very first moment, I was gripped by the story. I was immediately drawn to desire to hunt down the truth. From a character standpoint, it made perfect sense. In stark contrast with Yakuza 6, I felt Kiryu could have simply stopped as soon as he pulled Yuta away from making the worst mistake of his life by trying to kill his own father. The whole Onimichi secret of a battleship that survived the end of World War II felt a little too contrived. Was there really a need for Kiryu to hunt it down except for the desire of the writer’s to see their elaborate plots seen to their conclusion?

Yagami’s guilt was also an important factor in many of his interactions with his fellow cast mates. And, despite being a civilian and never sworn into the yakuza lifestyle, it was still possible for Ryu Ga Gotoku studio to do what it did best by representing the seedy underbelly of Japan. The whole AD-9 drug and the subsequent scandal surrounding it also felt believable. In fact, it came as a shock to learn that dementia has such a high prevalence in Japan and the world. Unfortunately for my own thriller writing, I’ve been less able to incorporate proper facts and figures into my own story regarding climate change.

What I liked most, regarding the plot, was that the key figure behind the deaths in Kamurocho was a seemingly milquetoast gentleman scientist: Yoji Shono. Rather than a big hulking brute, it was a short thin man that had a face that barely stood out amidst a crowd.

By game’s end, I was almost reluctant to see Yagami’s journey come to an end. As soon as the credits rolled, I was eager for a sequel. Yagami, Kaito, Hoshino, Sugiura, Higashi, Saori and Mafuyu all seemed like characters I would like to learn more about. It helped, as well, that the writers managed to make it believable that all of them had a shared history.

The scenes in the court houses made it abundantly clear that Ace Attorney is very much a Japanese courtroom. With the prosecutors and defense seated facing each other. 

Although, it could be said that Yagami’s and Izumida’s alliance near the end was a little on the nose when it came to unmasking Ichinose. In fact, it was a bit like Edgeworth and Wright teaming up to uncover the truth of the matter rather than trying to win a case for the sake of prestige and standing.

The side cases were also quite enjoyable. Ryu Ga Gotoku was still able to retain its sense of humour even by making most cases available through clients seeking the help of a detective. I personally enjoyed Yagami’s hunt for a ghost in a local apartment complex and taking photos of a wrestler-turned-politician. Even the ones that were encountered on the streets of Kamurocho were enjoyable, ranging from stopping calamities to chasing a wig.

All of this was heightened by the controls of the game and the numerous side activities on offer. By trimming some of the fat, I did not have to worry about subjecting my eyes to softcore porn videos or watching Kiryu type with two fingers the phrase: ‘it’s growing.’ I will miss hostesses but the girlfriend system was also quite robust. In fact, the conversations were quite nice and I liked how Yagami went out of his way to help a woman snag her first interview. Alas, the one detriment to this was that Judgment offered no karaoke - a stapler minigame that should have been kept.

I also very much liked the combat. While it took some adjusting to, with X used to sprint, within moments, I was leapfrogging over enemies or wall punching the street thugs and Keihin gang into the dirt. The return of different combat styles was welcome. I often changed between crane and tiger as I took on groups and bosses. In fact, this was the first time in the entire history of the Yakuza series that I took on an ‘Amon’ and won! 

That was in spite of the mortal wounds mechanics that proved a little frustrating and the very limited healing items. I’ll never say a bad word about Toughness Emperor ever again!

On a side note, why were there so many stray cats? Even in the flashbacks!

Judgment proved to be a detective game set in the backdrop of Kamurocho. While the tailing missions were tedious, it was nevertheless an enjoyable excursion back into the world of corrupt politicians and the seedy criminal underworld of Japan. Yagami was also a refreshing main character that had his own burdens to bear. Should there ever be a sequel, I hope that karaoke would be reinstated as a side activity. As it is, I’ll need to double down and learn how to play shogi if I ever want to enjoy another iconic past time that has been incorporated within the world of Kamurocho.

[ohmygraysonsthighs]

God is a (Wo)Man (E.D.){SMUT}

A/N: hey y’all! so uh like i know i like kinda don’t exist anymore and it’s all chill i don’t know if i’m gonna be posting more or not but this was in my drafts and since i keep seeing circles and lines get attention i just thought y’all would want this one too ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

The bass of the ear wrecking music surrounding you pumped through your bloodstream. Not even ten minutes ago you were in your friend Ethan's car smoking a bowl outside of the last party of the summer. The affects always took a little while to kick in for him, but you couldn't say the same. Smoking weed worked like ecstasy for you. Every feeling so much more intense than usual, which would make you horny as ever but you tried to contain it.

Before you both walked into  the home, Ethan whispered in your ear to make sure to stay close to him, saying he didn't want anyone fucking with you while you were in this state. His words made your heart swell. Of course you had a crush on him- how cheesy, right- but you couldn't help it. 

Right now you were dancing with Syd, a close childhood friend of yours. She offered you a drink but you declined, not really looking to get crossfaded tonight. When someone changed the song to an unfamiliar beat, your eyes began to scan your surroundings.  Ethan's twin, Grayson, was leaned up against a wall talking to Ethan and a kid named Josh. Ethan looked totally out of it and you chuckled. It's definitely kicked in now.

You left Syd to go talk to some of your other friends. Mid conversation, a presence came up from behind and wrapped their arms around your waist.

"Hey Y/N." Ethan slurred, resting his head upon your shoulder.

"Hey to you too big boy. How ya hanging in there?"

"I feel great baby. How 'bout you?"

"Kinda like I don't exist. And my shoulders feel like honey. So pretty good." The person you were talking to got caught up in someone else and you waved bye to them, planning on finishing your conversation later.

"Mmm. Honey. So sweet. Just like you."  Ethan kissed your cheek and his lips made your skin burn like coals. You had to get out of his arms or your next move could be sinfully deadly. Grabbing his hands, you twisted out of his hold.

"Alright E, let's go dance. Sound good?" He offered a droopy nod as a response and you shook your head. Still holding his hands, you led him to the area where most of the people were.

A few rap songs played and you both jumbled over your words trying to rap to the other, which just ended with the both of you in fits of laughter. Although others crossed paths with you both, you stuck together. The cycle of horribly trying to keep up with the fast paced songs came to a halt once "God is a woman" came on.

"E! E! This song is so good!" You stumbled into is arms then back out, singing to him.

You, you love it how I move you

You love it how I touch you

My one, when all is said and done

You'll believe God is a woman

Every other song you've listened to you shouted the lyrics out loud. Not this one. You don't know what had come over you, but it was like you subconsciously knew how you wanted this to end, like you were on a mission. Instead of shouting, you let the lyrics drip off your tongue like honey.

And I, I feel it after midnight

A feelin' that you can't fight

You took a step closer to Ethan, your faces just a few inches apart. All of the sudden he had nothing to say, his eyes darker than before and one of his hands leaving yours to grip your waist.

My one, it lingers when we're done

You'll believe God is a woman

"You know, this song is incredibly sexual." He murmured.

"Really? I had no idea." You bit your lip and turned around so your ass was pressed against his bulge, teasingly grinding on to him.

"Y/N, what are you doing."

"What feels good."

"We can't do this. This isn't right."

Turning your head to linger your lips around his ear, you whispered, "Then tell me to stop."

Ethan pressed his lips together in a line. "Don't. Stop." You smirked and turned back around to continue grinding on him.

Ain't nobody else can relate

Boy, I like that you ain't afraid

Baby, lay me down and let's pray

I'm tellin' you the way I like it, how I want it

Ethan's rough hands skidded across your torso hotly, landing above your clit and rubbing you through your shorts. A small gasp left your mouth.

"Did you bite off more than you can chew, princess?" He said smugly. To show him that he barely knew the beginning of what you could handle, you grinded on him with more pressure until you could feel more than just a bulge.

"I know what I can handle. I know what I want."

You, you love it how I move you

You love it how I touch you

My one, when all is said and done

You'll believe God is a woman

And I, I feel it after midnight

A feelin' that you can't fight

My one, it lingers when we're done

You'll believe God is a woman

"I can't fucking take this anymore." Ethan twirled you around, brought both hands up to your neck, and kissed you passionately. It happened so quickly that at first you weren't able to comprehend his movements, but in the blink of an eye you reciprocated his actions. Your kisses were hungry, like you both haven't eaten in months and were finally brought something that could replenish you for life. How just one kiss could make you this wet you couldn't understand. Ethan broke the kiss and looked you in the eyes.

"Follow me." He tugged at your hands and lead you upstairs. A few of the rooms were locked with teenagers doing something you were going to do soon. Eventually you found an unoccupied room and Ethan held the door open for you.

"Sit on the bed." He mumbled as you walked into the room. You did as you were told and watched him slowly close the door and lock it, the action alone causing goosebumps to erupt across your body.

"You've been bad Y/N. Grinding on me like that in front of all those people? Tsk, tsk, where are your manners?" He strode over to you. You loved this side of Ethan. His dominant side came out every once in a while, but imagining him in bed like this was sending you into overdrive.

"I couldn't help it. You make my head spin; you have no clue how long I've been waiting to do that." Regularly you would've never confessed something of those sorts to him, but you're laying it all out on the table tonight.

"You're in for a treat, kitten. I'm gonna ruin you in the best way imaginable. When all is said and done, you'll believe God is a man." And just like that your lips met again. It was less hungry than before- probably because you both knew something better was to come. Pausing momentarily, you took took your tube top off and Ethan took off his shirt. You were always amazed at how well formed his body was. Shortly after you rejoined, Ethan's mouth left yours to travel down your neck, lightly biting which caused you to yelp. Everything already felt like it was vibrating, so the pleasure from his tongue was multiplied tenfold. He wrapped his tongue around a nipple and you couldn't help but let a groan fall out.

"Look at you, you're already a mess for me."

"Don't be so big headed, you know what being high does to me." You said, head thrown back in satisfaction.

"Babe you're about to find out how big this head really is." He winked, letting your nipple pop out of his mouth and crouching down to wiggle you out of your shorts and undies. Once you were free, Ethan spared no time to run his thumb up and down your glistening cunt.

"Even more wet than I imagined." Slipping his thumb between his lips, he moaned, "And even sweeter too. I can't wait to devour this pussy," your eyes grew wide and he cracked a smile, "Not yet though."

Head bobbing back up to meet yours for a third time, you reconnected as his fingers cruised along your soaking folds. He circled the perimeter of your clit until you had to break the kiss to take a breather. Resting his forehead on yours, his eyes peaked down to watch as his fingers made you weaker by the second and you did the same. Thumb not leaving your clit, he let his pointer and middle finger finally enter you and your body relaxed. You observed as they entered dry and withdrew completely drenched.

"See that, kitten? Who makes you this wet?"

"You, E." You gasped.

"Damn right. Never forget that." You nodded in response, growing more breathless the more he pumped into and rubbed you. When your lips met once more it was sloppier and wetter than previously. An impatient hand reached out to touch him from his pecks, to his abs, all the way down to his belt and yanking at his shorts.

"Eager, aren't we?" He said huskily before pulling away from you momentarily, undoing his belt and removing his pants along with his boxers. His hard-on sprung up and you reached out to stroke it.

"Not tonight, princess. Not tonight." He removed your hand and went right back to his earlier work. Hands now sliding in and out at a faster rate and thumb still going in on the clit, he added a third finger to stretch you out which made your heart race.

"Fuck your fingers feel so good in my pussy," you moaned, "Ethan holy fuck."

His fingers curled up and hit your g spot, causing your back to arch, gluttonous for his contact. No one has ever made you feel this good before.

"You like that? You want me to make you cum?" A whimper escaped your throat and you were too busy focusing on the pleasure he was giving you. Those hands truly worked like magic. The way he weighed his thumb down on your clit burned blissfully. Your pussy strained for more and you ground yourself into him the hardest you could. Eyes closed in the dark room and high out of your fucking mind, touch was your most heightened sense.

"Answer me." Ethan growled, other hand reaching around your throat, squeezing lightly.

"Yes! Yes E please make me cum. I need it so bad baby please."

"Since you asked so nicely. Cum for daddy, Y/N." A fourth finger was added and Ethan's eyes bore holes into yours. He removed the hand from your throat and used it to pinch your clitoris and you were through. You came loudly, screaming his name like it was the only word you knew.

He opened your mouth with his wet digits so you could taste yourself and you hummed in delight.

"How do you taste?"

"Delicious, daddy."

"Good. You were so tight around my fingers, I'm sure you'd be even tighter around my cock."

"Let's find out." You spit into your hand and lightly grabbed him, stroking until his lips parted. Slipping his tip in between your folds, you teased him by sliding it up and down through your wetness.

"Enough playing baby." You listened to his words and allowed him to slowly glide into you.  He somehow expanded you more than his four fingers did. It hurt a little bit so it took a second for adjusting, but once you did, he filled you with his dick.

"You're so fucking tight." He grunted, pulling out slightly then rammed back in. Steadily, you both found a rhythm and your second orgasm was already building up until he removed himself completely.

"On your hands and knees. Now." You excitedly complied. As soon as you did, Ethan wasted no time entering you again. The new angle had your legs trembling and groans following. Hearing Ethan moan behind you turned you on even more and you started to fuck yourself onto his cock.

"Shit Y/N, that's so good. Your ass is so hot." He said, spanking you and getting a grunt in return. He continued to spank you as you backed that ass for him. When he had had enough, he harshly grabbed your hips and pounded into you relentlessly, hitting that perfect spot over and over again while you reached down to add some friction to your already sensitive clit.

"Ethan! Harder, daddy, harder. Keep hitting that spot and I'm gonna fucking cum again." And harder he went, balls slapping up onto your hand and for the second time that night, you were about to explode. But this time was different than earlier, a different sensation came over you. It felt like something else was going to happen. Before you could think about it for too long though, you came, squirting all over Ethan's dick.

"Holy fucking shit." You were spent but Ethan was merciless, still going at it until he flipped you over once more then pulled out.

"Cum in my mouth, E." You took him in, swirling your tongue around the head then pushing him down your throat and out until he spilled his seed. After you swallowed it down, you kitten licked his tip to make sure you got it all, staring at him, then finished with a peck.

Both of you layed down next to each other on the bed, exhausted. Ethan grabbed your hand and kissed to back of it.

"I hope Matt isn't pissed we fucked in his bed. And we fucked his bed up." Ethan chuckled at your comment and turned to look at you.

"That was fucking amazing Y/N."

"I know. I guess we learned a few things from this."

"What?"

"That you're as good as I thought in bed."

"And?"

"And I guess we can agree that God is a person."