#he went through some SHIT and it WILL have effects down the line

[rip-cod-brainrot]

Suddenly thinking about what jobs the 141 would have if they weren’t in military/police.

Price I’m unsure. He’s a natural born leader, yet I also think he wouldn’t go for anything particularly money-centered like a CEO. He would be in a position that’s more about giving to/caring for the community than anything high-paying. I just, uh… have no idea what that would be.

Ghost? A butcher, a mechanic… any physical labor job where he doesn’t have to interact face-to-face with customers very often is his vibe. Fuck, even a factory job. He wants to be left alone, in the peace and quiet, working with his hands. Calms the mind… keeps him focused.

Gaz? Look, that sweet boy’s got gentle, encouraging, and nurturing vibes. He’s an instructor, or he’s a teacher. Doesn’t matter what age his class is, he’s patient with them and understanding and he will absolutely rip into anybody that is the reason one of his students comes in crying. Heart of gold, that one.

And Soap? I can also see him working as some kind of instructor. Definitely not a teacher, I feel like he would NOT be able to sit through a whole school year of planned shit, the boy’ll get bored and restless. But if any of the four are working with kids, it’s definitely Soap. A swim instructor, a camp counselor…. Anything where he can encourage kids to explore the world and discover themselves through that wonder.

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny used to be a vigilante, firmly on the side of good. Like, illegally, but morally good.

Danny’s 100% sure that whatever he is now, it’s not good.

Is Gotham’s influence just Like That?

He was homeless when he got to this thrice damned city (literally, because Lady Gotham was so cursed) and now he’s… here? In a mid-level penthouse with a rotation of homeless kids going in and out of his kitchen and eating out his pantry??

Danny adjusted the cuffs of his dress shirt, making the conscious decision to ditch the tie. He’s a tall 6ft 4 now, taking after his Dad. His head smarted all of the time, hitting doorframes when he was being a bit clumsier than the normal ghost-like grace he had learned to channel as The Phantom.

The Phantom instead of just Phantom. Why? Because Phantom was the name of a teenage vigilante in another dimension. The Phantom, on the other hand, is an intimidatingly tall, deceptively kind, extremely dangerous kingpin.

Honestly? Danny didn’t even want this life. Like, he had no idea it would snowball like this??

He supposed that it all started when the Penguin was trying to snatch kids off of his block on Crime Alley. Not officially his block, of course, because Danny didn’t actually enter this city to be a crime-shadow thing. But he hadn’t lost enough of Phantom the Vigilante to ignore kids getting hurt. He still hasn’t, if he’s being honest. He flew into a frantic search, tracking down the missing kids to Penguin’s bar. The Iceberg Lounge. Apparently, he wanted the kids to do some menial tasks and what not. Danny, rage flickering through his core, intangibly went in and robbed Penguin of every coin and secret the man kept.

Then? Danny blackmailed the Penguin to guarantee his kids a measure of safety from the Rogue. That began the slippery slope into whatever it is he does now. Penguin was being kept in line by Danny’s threats, the grip he had on the Rogue’s weak points, and a wonderful bit of intimidation.

——

“What, you stinking phantom? I’m stickin’ to yer rules!” Penguin snarled, forced to his knees by invisible blob ghosts.

Danny, salty and pissy from the lack of sleep he’d experienced trying to keep Penguin’s men in line as a result of Penguin trying to test where Danny’s lines were, dropped the temperature to the point where Penguin started shivering. Considering the place was already cold- the Iceberg lounge lived up to its name- it meant that Danny was standing nonchalantly in a room that was negative twenty five degree Celsius in a sweatshirt, Danny was already making good on his natural intimidation factor.

“It’s The Phantom to you, Oswald.” Danny said, in the tone of someone saying “it’s the shit, to you.”

Danny narrowed his blue eyes, letting a tiny tint of ectoplasm make his eyes glow a bit in the suddenly icing over room.

“Your people have been getting on my nerves, Oswald. Roughing up kids is so… uncultured. Are you sure you’re a Cobblepot?”

Penguin snarled, the effect of which was rendered ineffective due to his increasingly violent shivers. Plus, Danny loomed over him without even trying.

Danny, annoyed and asking himself “What Would Dan Do To Intimidate This Guy?”, gripped Penguin’s shoulder and hauled him up one handed. He dragged the mob boss over to one of the booths, avoiding the bodies he’d dropped (non-lethally) when Danny first walked in to ruin Penguin’s night. He shoved Penguin in chair he iced over, because Danny’s petty and if he saw one more bruise on his kids at Penguin’s hands, Danny was gonna go full Dan the Murderer.

He at least allowed to room to warm up before laying into Penguin, though. He stayed standing. Hey, he had the height advantage to use. He could have kept Penguin kneeling, but it was probably god the best that the mob boss got some sense of pride back.

(Danny had no idea that sitting as someone loomed over you to lecture and threaten you was even worse than kneeling. At least with kneeling, you knew where you stood. But sitting? It leaves you horribly off kilter.)

“I told you to keep your people in line. Kids are off limits, Oswald.”

“I kept them in line!”

Never let it be said that Oswald Cobblepot had a normal functioning sense of self preservation.

“Really?” Danny jabbed his pointer finger lightly on top of Penguin’s trachea and allowed his fingernails to sharpen into Phantom’s sharper digits. Penguin tried to lean away. “Then why did they start a gun fight when there were kids visible on the street? Why did I see one of my kids get hit by one of your poor excuses of a bouncer?���

“I-”

“Don’t care much for your excuses, if I’m being honest. I let you mess around with the little projects you have, without even breathing a whisper of your secrets. Sionis would love to know how you double crossed him the last deal, yeah?”

“I- I’ll keep them in line!” Penguin stuttered.

“Well, I believe in second chances,” Danny bullshitted. Ancients, how was this even working? “So I suggest you make an example of the guy that smacked Hailey around before I make an example out of you, Oswald.”

“Fine! Fine!”

——

And with that, he got access to Penguin’s resources and men and more importantly, the corrupt police officers. He made Penguin “boot out” the pedophilic ones (in a very violent way) and kept the rest.

Then? Mr. Freeze froze over the god damn pipes and Danny had to intimidate and make a deal with the Rogue so he and his increasing roster of orphans had access to warm water.

In exchange for Danny’s restorative and, more importantly, unmelting ice, Mr. Freeze was now Danny’s… on-call enforcer?? When he’s not researching cures for his frozen in a pod wife, that is.

Danny was satisfied with that. He was! But then Black Mask happened, with the man trying to engage in a battle of wits with Danny over the control of Crime Alley which, at that point, was firmly Danny’s territory.

The thing is, Danny doesn’t play nice anymore. Why bother with pointless mind games when he could just…

——

“So, you’re The Phantom.”

“And you’re Sionis.”

Black Mask twitched at the name, gloved hands pulling out his guns. Danny sat on the counter, head touching mid cabinet, and sipped out of Sionis’ favorite mug.

Because Danny broke into Black Mask’s safe house and stole his quality coffee. The man’s eyes were wary.

“How did you get in here?”

Danny shrugged. “Walked.”

Danny held the coffee out of the way as Sionis unloaded a clip into his chest and lunged forward to slap a mask onto Danny’s face. After waiting a bit, as Black Mask’s smug triumph bled into shock, Danny laughed and, using a bit of his natural strength, tossed the guy off of him. He casually took the mask off of his face.

“Jeez, I’m trying to be nice, here.”

“So, you’re a Meta.”

Danny grinned. “Eh. And you’re a cult leader with a mask fetish.”

Danny tuned out the rant about the “true face of Gotham” or whatever, already bored, and sipped at Sionis’ coffee. The ass might be a psycho, but his coffee tastes were wonderful. Danny stood up, rinsed his mug, and turned back to Black Mask.

“You’re trafficking people. Kids.” He said, cutting through Sionis’ chatter. He was sly about it too, committing violence and torture in a way that would ensure obedience and fear. Danny probably would have never caught on, Black Mask’s schemes being so ingeniously created and executed, had he not kept a hawk’s eyes on the more vulnerable members of Crime Alley’s community. And the rest of Gotham’s vulnerable communities, of course.

“My, a wonderfully obvious conclusion. Now, Phantom, I have a proposition for you.”

Sionis seemed to have gotten his bearings back. Danny tilted his head at him, looking down.

“You can work for me,” Sionis said, before opening a laptop with video feed to one of his masked men or whatever holding a knife to one of Danny’s more fearless kids. Danny snarled.

“Or, refuse, and your kid will lose a finger for every instance of your defiance.”

“I told you not to touch the kids, Sionis. I don’t allow trafficking either.”

Black Mask chuckled. “Cut off a finger, Sadness.”

“Yes, bos- ARGHHHH!”

Danny watched as Mr. Freeze froze the goon’s arms before breaking them.

“I’ve got her, Phantom.”

Danny nodded at Freeze, keeping an eye on Sionis in case the fool bolts.

“So, what are your cards now, Sionis? You’ve sure pissed me off with nothing to show for it.”

And that was the last night anyone heard from the one that was supposed to be the King of Crime.

But Gotham knew the head mounted on a pike at one of Black Mask’s hastily abandoned bases was a warning, that The Phantom was watching.

——

Then he somehow got a gaggle of more orphans that were undead zombie “Talons?”

From there, he just obtained influence over the crime bosses of Gotham. Because his Talons kept bringing him heads and blackmail and his crime alley kids and Gotham orphans kept bringing him information for food and safety?

But like, Danny never wanted anything in exchange for the safety he provided. His core could give less of a shit whether he got anything in return. But he couldn’t convince his kids of that! They’re putting themselves in danger and ugh-!

Danny checked himself once more in the mirror. Ready, he stepped out into the night to wait for the Bats at his new favorite VIP spots.

On the way, he passed Ivy and Harley, who he waved to. Pamela worked under him because he controlled Gotham’s criminal underground (which also mean the official parts of the city considering the sheer amount of corruption) and influenced them into more plant friendly methods. His dominion over Undergrowth also helped immensely.

Harley? They’re friends. He beat up and crippled her abusive ex. She gave him therapy and stopped torturing people for fun.

Danny stepped into the back door of the Iceberg Lounge. No one stopped him. No one dared to.

He settled onto a velvet couch, nodding respectfully at the server that had immediately and nervously set down his mai tai. He glanced around for cameras and wire taps, before giving up and upping his ectoplasmic output to short any recording devices out.

He sipped his drink as he waited.

“Batman.”

“Phantom.”

“Oh, good. You didn’t bring Robin,” Danny said, watching Batman tense. “Kids shouldn’t be in places like these.”

Batman stayed silent.

“Come on, sit.” Danny gestured to the couch across from him.

“This isn’t a social call. I’ll stop whatever you’re scheming-” Batman growled.

“Oh my god, you’re so dramatic. Is this where Nightwing gets it from?”

Batman snarled.

“Sit, sit.” Danny rolled his eyes.

Batman stayed stubbornly looming. Danny sighed, allowing his voice to slip into velvet danger.

“I told you to sit, Bruce Wayne.”

“You-”

“I won’t repeat myself again, Bruce. You’re testing my patience.”

Bruce sat, wary and hyper vigilant. Danny sighed, settling back in his chair.

“You’ve heard of Red Hood, yes? Don’t answer that, it was hypothetical. I know you’ve heard of him.” Danny waved a hand impatiently. “I don’t really care why he’s setting up shop in my Alley, but he’s upsetting the other crime lords. They’re asking me to interfere.”

“I don’t work for you.”

“No,” Danny acknowledged with a nod. “But I could make you, if you push it. Politeness would serve you much better right now, Bruce, seeing as I am doing you a… favor. And since I’m not shouting to the world who you are under the cowl.”

Danny gave Batman a pointed, patented, mom glare.

“… Apologies.”

“Now, you might be wondering what that favor is.” Danny watched Batman’s cowled face carefully. “I thought you should know that the Red Hood is your “Jason Todd.’”

Batman was still. And then Batman leapt at him, snarling, “How dare you-!”

Danny caught the vigilante by the throat and squeezed.

Batman’s flurry of punches- which, mildly ow, those gauntlets kind of hurt- quickly changed to clawing and maneuvers to get out of the choke hold. Danny held steady, cutting off the vigilante’s air supply until he began to go limp. He’s not Superman. Danny will bruise and kill, if he had to.

“Are you going to listen to me now?” Danny asked mildly, emulating both Black Mask’s drawl and Dan’s effortless psychosis.

Batman gave a weak nod. Danny plopped him unceremoniously back onto his couch. He sipped on his drink once more as he waited for Batman to cough some sweet air back into his lungs.

“I’m telling you to get your little birds in line before I have to go hunting, yeah? Keep your kids out of danger, Bruce, and I won’t have to step in.”

“He- how do you know..?” The growl isn’t there anymore, and Danny felt a smug sense of vindication of having smothered it out of the guy. Woah, no, that thought was too Dan and too little Danny. Danny handed him a cup of water, which Batman didn’t drink.

Danny rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Drink. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it by now. And as for how I know…”

Danny held up a beat up copy of Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility, filled with Jason’s writing. He tossed it to Batman, who caught it with blank eyes.

“Water,” Danny reminded him firmly, feeling like a mother hen. Batman gulped down his water, eyes flicking between the pages of Jason’s annotated book. Ancients, Danny couldn’t believe he annotated his book. A crime lord, like that? Well, it’s not like Danny could say anything.

Batman looked up at him, a silent demand- no, plea, because he’s not in a position to make demands- for an answer.

“Broke into his safe house. You should contact your fling, Talia. Seems like she dunked him into these “Lazarus pits” and told him you replaced him with the current Robin.”

Danny could see Batman’s emotional gears hard at work and honestly, he doesn’t have time for that.

“Now, we’re done here. You owe me one for the information. I’ll collect later.” Danny grabbed the Dark Knight, who stayed oddly unresisting (shock, maybe?) , and hauled him up.

“Tell Tim Drake to eat more. He looks too skinny.” With that, Danny dragged the Dark Knight to the window and punted him out. His kids were waiting on hot chocolate night and Danny had to go shopping for quality ingredients.

——

“YOU COULDN’T HAVE TOLD ME THE BIGGEST CRIME LORD OF YOUR CITY WAS THE FUCKING HIGH KING OF THE INFINITE REALMS?!”

“Hn.”

“BLOODY HELL, DON’T YOU GRUNT AT ME, YOU BROODY BASTARD!”

Constantine let out a scream. Shite, the king who held his soul contract was a crime lord. Great.

——

The reason intelligence and convoluted schemes and genius doesn’t work against Danny is because he’s got weird standards of what he’ll tolerate and the fact is that his normal dumbassery and mother hen tendencies cancels out and coherent thoughts or plans he might have had.

[lightseoul]

So excited for this ask! #24 🥹💐💐

hello, lovely! thanks for playing <3 ik i said i'd write "short" drabbles, but this one kind of got away from me... nevertheless, i hope you enjoy it!

(this is lightseoul's 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i'll whip something up!)

24. "THERE YOU ARE." (1.5k)

you feel his commanding, unmissable presence before you even catch a glimpse of him.

yet despite yourself, you still startle at the sound of his booming voice when it inevitably comes.

“there you are.”

almost instantly, you cringe at the sheer volume. no doubt he’s caught the attention of at least three people in this particular area of the bookstore.

tightening your grip on the book you just spent the last ten minutes admiring from where it stood on the ‘newly released’ table, you, however, don’t look back to the source.

you know it’s stupid. but maybe—just maybe—if you didn’t see him, you could just pretend he didn’t exist.

which is ludicrous, because he’s literally your boyfr—

“oi.”

before you even get the chance to react, a hand grabs you by your left shoulder and spins you around, leaving you face-to-face with #6 hero pro-hero dynamight, decked out in his hero gear.

and he’s looking mighty pissed.

“did you fucking lie to me?”

he spits the blatant question—no, the accusation—so harshly that you can’t help but shrink into yourself ever so slightly.

when you don’t say anything, he only shakes his head. “i thought you said you had to work overtime and stay in the office?”

he pauses, as if to hear you out, but he continues before you can get a word in. “so you can only imagine my fucking confusion when i got there and that dickhead of a supervisor of yours said you went home on the dot.”

“i thought you agreed to cover for kiri tonight…” you mumble, more to yourself.

but bakugou, sharp as ever, barely catches it. “what?”

you look up from where you were staring at your feet, finally meeting his gaze. you try not to let the pained expression on his face chip away at your resolve. “what were you doing at my office? i thought you were working a double shift today.”

at that, he sneers. “oh, so we’re answering questions with questions now, hah?”

“no, i just—”

“i told eijirou last minute that i couldn’t ‘cuz i was planning to surprise you and spend the night together. happy?”

a wave of guilt courses through you at his admission. you shift to look at the stack of novels behind him instead, effectively ending your staredown.

“so you did lie to me,” he declares definitively, voice clipped. “can’t even look me in the fucking eye.”

not knowing what to say, you resort to scanning the relatively big area around you, clocking the curious faces attached to which are most definitely eavesdropping ears.

“people are staring, kats…”

the pro-hero doesn’t miss a beat. “i don’t give a single fuck.”

you heave a sigh as you wrack your brain for a way out of this. adjusting your grip on the book you’ve been cradling, you settle with: “it must’ve been a long day for you, you should go home and—”

“why are you avoiding me?”

you barely stop yourself from choking. “what?”

“you are. shit’s been going on for a while now—can’t believe it took me this long to put two and two together. you’re always working overtime, you always have errands to run on your own, you’ve been turning down my offers to—”

“excuse me, mr. dynamight, sir?”

the both of you whip to look at the source of the timid voice, only to find what has to be a six or seven-year-old child quaking in his notably orange and black hi-top sneakers.

“what?” comes bakugou’s curt response, obviously annoyed at having been interrupted. you, on the other hand, bask in the momentary reprieve the kid has unknowingly granted you.

you instinctively take a step back from the two.

“can i p-please have a p-picture with you?”

bakugou purses his lips in a tight line, “look, kid, i’m actually in the middle of some—”

“just do it, kats,” you cut him off, feeling empathy for the boy. the child looks at you in surprise, as if he just remembered you were standing there, before tossing you a grateful look.

at that, the man sighs, before beckoning the kid to come close next to him. the younger male beams in joy, hurriedly handing you his smartphone. bakugou crouches down on his knees so he’s more or less at the same height as the kid, an arm looped around the latter.

and as you say ‘cheese’, the two grin, one genuine and excited while the other comes off as a bit strained.

the kid jumps in glee and rushes off to you right after catching the hero off guard with a tight hug to his muscled leg.

looking up at you, he smiles. “thank you, miss!”

you ruffle his hair, “no problem, …?”

“eiro!” the child offers enthusiastically. “and you are?”

you’re about to say your name before you catch yourself in the nick of time.

“no one, really,” you chuckle, although it comes out a bit stilted. through your periphery, you can sense bakugou’s stare boring holes into the side of your face.

a look of perplexion crosses eiro’s innocent features. “really? for a second there i thought you were dynamight’s girlfriend, or something. you can’t be just no one.”

“i’m just a random bookworm,” you raise the book you’ve been holding and wiggle it to prove your point. “see?”

the child merely gives you an unconvinced hum before deciding he doesn’t really care enough to keep pressing. with one last look at his favorite hero, he lets out a squeal of delight, exclaiming thanks and dashing off to who-knows-where.

you take that as your cue to turn your back and make a start for the exit.

you can always just order this book that you’ve been waiting months for, anyway.

but you barely get to take a step forward when bakugou reaches for your wrist and pulls you unceremoniously close toward him, the distance between the two of you around only a foot apart.

your heart starts hammering—whether at the proximity or in anticipation of what’s about to come, if the tight grip on your appendage was any indication—you don’t know.

“the fuck was that?” he hiss-whispers.

at least he’s minding other people now. “i just felt for the kid. he just wanted to take a picture with you.”

“quit playing dumb with me, princess,” he growls. “why the fuck didn’t you just say your name?”

you gulp before you get to talk yourself out of it. bakugou notices, his eyes darting down to your throat and back up to your eyes, his crimson ones wordlessly demanding an answer.

when you don’t utter a single word, bakugou pushes. “you don’t want to go public about us, is that it?”

you almost gawk unabashedly at the man. you sometimes forget how perceptive he can be.

before you can even attempt to deny it, you get stopped in your tracks as you witness first-hand the palpable hurt that flashes across the pro-hero’s features.

and nothing could’ve prepared you for what tumbles out of his mouth next.

“…are you ashamed of being with me?”

“what?” you blurt out, an amalgamation of emotions washing over you in an instant. “no! why the hell would you think that?”

at that, bakugou frowns, “what else am i supposed to think, dumbass?”

“a million other things! like how villains might kidnap me to get back at you, or that your popularity and general ranking will drop, or that i’m not fucking good enough for you!”

the second you say the last thing, bakugou’s gaze turns indescribably stony.

“take that the fuck back.”

“no,” you say, trying to sound firm. “i’m being serious, katsuki.”

“no, you're being fucking ridiculous,” he spits, and if you were judging him just by his tone you wouldn’t believe he’s the one defending you right now.

“is that why you’ve been avoiding me, hah? because you don’t think you’re good enough for me?”

“don’t say it like that,” you grumble, shame now churning in your gut. “you’re making it sound stupid.”

“because you are being stupid, dumbass.” the man huffs, evidently frustrated but you’ve known him long enough to recognize the traces of relief etched on his face.

bakugou reaches for your shoulders, his big, firm hands encasing them as he gently squeezes the flesh. you finally bring your gaze up to look him in the eyes, and the sincerity in them would’ve made you stumble if it weren’t for his hold that’s keeping you in place.

“you’re fucking good enough for me, you got that?”

he says it so certainly that you can’t help but nod, even though you know the insecurities won’t vanish overnight.

“and don’t worry about my ranking—i want to reach number one with you by my side. as for those shit-faced villains, they won’t lay a finger on you as long as i’m alive. okay?”

“okay.”

seemingly pleased enough, bakugou releases his grip on you, pulling a few inches away.

“good. now be a good fucking girl and come home with me, alright? we're gonna talk this shit out.”

[merakidoll]

𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧 | Toji. F & Sukuna. R

- Toji and Sukuna, the no good rockstar boys, who you just so happened to have a sick obsession to. and luckily you finally got to get your wish.

warnings : black chubby! reader. the boys are gay ( we love ). anal, alluding to ass eating but not descriptive. vaginal penetration, double stuffed hehe, hard drug usage. toji has a play boy belly piercing but they both have many tattoos and piercings! neck biting, blood drinking. veryyyy little plot.

mirah note. : i got a littleeee carried away but it’s all good. i don’t think i like this very much either 🧍🏾‍♀️

the nasty boys is what the media referred to the two men as. they’re real, raw, and very uncut with their fans about everything. from their terrible drug usage, to their love of sharing, toji and sukuna made it known that they weren’t men you should settle with, but steer clear from. yet, you just never listened. you knew you weren’t doing a very good job at stalking. you knew - that they knew - you followed them everywhere. fancy dinner, concert, every fan sign. so they decided to give you exactly what you wanted.

looking into the mirror toji carefully- but messily put on the dark eyeliner. he used the tips of his fingers to smudge it in giving it a messy affect that he knew the pretty ladies in the crowd would love. he ignored the moans and gritted teeth words from his bandmate, picking up the rolled crisp 100 dollar bill and sniffing the grimy white substance that was in a line. “mm good shit” he threw his head back, the feeling of his nose burning making his cock harder. andrinline pushing through his bones as he finally got up. one final wink in the mirror

you wish you could have taken a picture of how sexy toji looked standing above you. cropped graphic muscles shirt, with tight leather slacks that didn’t do well at hiding the big dick print. his belly button piercing glistened from the yellow dressing room light, the play boy bunny dangling at every step he took closer. your mouth moved to say something but a loud whine came.

sukuna bucking up into your tightness. he could tell anal was foreign to you, your pretty hole so tight that it wrapped around his tongue, fingers, and now cock so well. “our little stalker needs to be extra- mmm” he paused moaning as his cock let out pre cum inside of you. “full hm?” toji eyes followed the trail of her pretty little body. thick thighs, big breast, love handles, and his favorite- stretch marks.

sukuna had her thick legs up in the air the mini skirt pushed back with no sort of under garment underneath. the view of his cock stuffing her made toji’s dick jerk, her head was leaning onto his shoulder pussy jucies trailing down her leg slowly, as if teasing him. taking a huge breath toji got closer. he pulled his pants just enough for his cock to spring out. his fingers slyly moving to her cunt and sliding through her fat lips, slick forming around him. “p-please” she desperately moaned as he began to rub her clit.

“mm, a slut huh?” she looked up bitting her lip. her pussy ached, sukuna not doing anything to please her but making her feel stuffed and more needy. “where do you want me baby?” grabbing his wrist she brought his fingers to her seeping hole, she didn’t wait for him pushing the two digits in herself. sounds of her wetness breaking out through the room. toji couldn’t contain the moan, dick jumping as tingles went throughout his body. he gently removed his hands bringing the digits to his mouth sucking on her flavor. with eyes rolling to the back of his head he moaned indulging in the savory sweetness. “what a sweet girl” he smirked alighting his cock to her entrance.

moving his eyes from her to sukuna they shared a secret conversation. the two had always had some sort of desire for one another, they never hid it. kissing on stage and taking very sexual instagram photos together. toji could see that him teasing the women had some effect on his mate. “you like it too huh?” pumping his full length in one good time, the women screamed out cumming while toji pressed his lips against the other man’s lips.

“hnguh” moaning against his mouth, sukuna also came letting a load out in the tight ass that only seemed to squeeze him harder. as toji moved back, digging his chipped painted nails into the leather couch, he pumped into her hard. her body moved, creating another friction with the cock in her other hole. making her scramble to grab ahold of something, her body feeling as tho she could faint. “you got it” she heard a whisper from behind her. her eyes were closed but she could feel toji’s hot breath fanning against her ear, his mumbles of how she was the best pussy he ever had making her tighten around him.

“uhhh” throwing his head back sukuna blissed in the way his cock was being milked. toji took that as an opportunity to kiss his tattooed neck, trailing his tongue against his adams apple, then to the right side before bitting down feeling the women below him squeeze down onto him while squirting. “OHMYGODDDD” she had finally spoken words, voice high over the loud chants of the two men’s name from the crowd that had been waiting.

the men shared a moment, the matalic taste of sukunas blood on toji’s tongue making him press his forehead against his shoulder, finally filling her to the brim. while sukuna came from the bite, his body not feeling pain but so much pleasure. sitting still for a moment they all had their eyes closed taking deep heavy breaths.

what threw everyone out of the trance was a giggle. a tired giggle passed her lips that caused everyone to laugh. toji pulling out and bitting his lip when his cum came out of her. using the same two fingers he stuffed all of it back inside. “don’t let it come out.” he said sternly. “if it stays in the entire concert we’ll have more fun after” and with a promising smile he kissed her cheek walking away.

[angellesword]

Baggage l JJK (01)

Summary: Drowning in debt and blood, Jeon Jungkook knows he's better off alone, lest he brings people down with him.

But one drunken night changes everything.

In a blink of an eye, Jungkook found himself drowning not only in debt and blood, but also in dirty diapers and judgmental stares from you, a.k.a his long-lost love and the guardian of the son he didn't even know existed.

Genre and warnings: best friends to lovers, co-parenting, idiots in love, slow burn—really slow burn, mutual pining, angst, fluff, implied smut, kissing, minor character death, slight getting back together, OC cusses excessively so watch out

Pairing: dad!Jungkook x adoptive mom!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

→ Next Chapter (02)

***

You know it's New Year's Eve when people flock to Incheon's Chinatown. Some were rushing to buy gifts for their families and friends, while others ate in a fancy restaurant or watched fireworks and the famous lion dance.

As for Jungkook, he knew it was New Year's Eve when he could earn double. 

"I said I don't want to take a picture!" The loud wail of a little girl could be heard through the vast street of Chinatown. Many shoppers looked at the kid and her father with disdain. The child was crying hard, yet her father simply laughed it off, urging the child to take a picture with Jungkook or, rather, with Ronald McDonald.

Jungkook was wearing the infamous mascot costume of that red-haired clown of McDonald's.

"Come on, Wonyoung-ah. Just one picture, please?" Seokjin, the child's father, batted his eyelashes, acting cute. It worked on his partner Namjoon. Unfortunately, it didn't have much effect on Wonyoung.

"No! He's so ugly and scary!" Wonyoung stole a glance at Jungkook. The mascot looked so hideous that Wonyoung couldn't help but throw her ice cream at Jungkook.

"Wonyoung." Namjoon, who had been quiet all this time, grimaced when he saw Jungkook stilled—as if the ice cream that hit his chest also froze his heart.

Namjoon usually tolerated the young girl's brattiness, but seeing that Wonyoung crossed the line and even hurt someone older than her, Namjoon couldn't help but scold his daughter.

"Apologize to him." Namjoon tilted Wonyoung's shoulder, compelling her to face Jungkook, who was still rooted to the ground.

Jungkook had never liked kids. He thought they were annoying and full of shit. What happened today totally embarrassed him. Not to mention, many people witnessed the jarring scene.

"I don't want to! Why don't you listen to me! He's a bad clown! He scares people!" Wonyoung refused to look at the mascot. Honestly, Jungkook couldn't refute the kid's reason. He, too, was aware of how ridiculous he looked. Most of his co-workers went on vacation leave. No one was around to help him apply his Ronald McDonald makeup. He had to do it himself.

Jungkook had no talent when it came to makeup. He had accidentally put on too much white face paint—even his manager laughed at him. But despite feeling helpless, he still swallowed his pride and went out to entertain customers. It's just for one night. Someone who needed money to survive couldn't be picky with the little opportunity available.

Not everyone was lucky enough to throw away food like it was nothing. Wonyoung was a young heiress; throwing ice cream at Jungkook was considered throwing tantrums and not wasting food. They had money. They could buy people's silence.

That's precisely what happened. Namjoon was hellbent on making his daughter apologize, and after a long time of coaxing, Wonyoung finally (although reluctantly) managed to say she was sorry.

Namjoon apologized on behalf of his child, too. Conversely, Seokjin gave Jungkook some hush money after promising to 'discipline' Wonyoung at home.

Jungkook could only nod, once again forced to swallow his pride and accept the money offered to him. Poor people like him didn't only have fewer opportunities; they had no self-preservation either. He endured long hours of smiling as kids cried seeing his face. The brave ones were a little easy to deal with. They only clung to his legs, asking their guardians to take more pictures with him.

It was already late at night when the last customer bid him goodbye. Jungkook was exhausted; the cold winter wind made his body shiver. He was itching to go home.

"What happened to your costume?" The manager who laughed at Jungkook earlier couldn't laugh anymore, not when he knew it would cost the restaurant money to clean off the stain.

The chocolate ice cream thrown by Wonyoung heavily stained the costume. Jungkook explained what happened. Unfortunately, the manager only shook his head.

"Nope, that can't be. It's your fault you didn't dodge. I'm gonna have to deduct the laundry fee from your salary."

Jungkook's hands balled into fists when he heard about the salary deduction. There was ringing in his ears, and as if that wasn't cruel enough, the manager added, "I'm not going to double your payment this day. Half of it goes to dry cleaning."

The strong urge to grab the manager's collar and slam him on the wall made Jungkook's hands twitch. Who even dry-cleans a fucking mascot costume? A whirlpool of profanities at the bottom of his heart threatened to swallow him whole. Jungkook wished he could just disappear from this world.

Logic sided with him in the end, though. Jungkook needed a job. He couldn't leave even if he wanted to because if he did, where would that leave those people to whom he owed money? He couldn't escape his responsibilities. Yes, it would be satisfying to smack the hell out of his manager, but after all that gratifying feeling came the consequences: he would lose his only source of income, face a civil case, and be forced to look for a new job.

The last one was the hardest thing to do. No one would want to hire someone like Jungkook. He was a failure, and almost all business industries knew about it.

For the third time tonight, Jungkook swallowed his pride. He held the crook of his manager's elbow and beamed, "Manager Bang, have mercy on your poor employee, would you? You promised to pay me double today."

Jungkook struggled to steady his voice. He swore he never cried, not even when losing millions of assets. But things were different now. Back then, he lost everything because of his own decisions. But today's case was different. He didn't ask any of this. He didn't ask that stupid brat to throw ice cream on him. None of these was his choice...because sadly, he only had one choice:

It was to beg. 

"Please? I-I need money. I need to..." Jungkook choked on his bitter spit. He shook his head. Never mind his needs, never mind his reason. It wasn't like others cared. He could only compromise, "What if I wash the costume instead? You don't have to pay at all."

Jungkook was so passionate about his proposal. He kept spouting nonsense. It was a pity, really. Even his manager couldn't bear looking at his face. It was such a cringe-worthy juxtaposition to see a happy clown almost crying.

"Okay, fine!" The manager cut Jungkook off. He had never seen someone desperately beg for money. It made him uncomfortable. "Do whatever you want. Just get out of my sight."

The manager shuddered again, but Jungkook smiled, almost kowtowing as he received his compensation.

"Thank you, Manager Bang!" Jungkook smiled at his manager before finally leaving the food chain. He didn't change his outfit, realizing that things were better off like this. It was winter, and he had no money to buy coats and boots. He had to make do with this clown costume.

With little compensation in hand, Jungkook walked around Chinatown, spending his transportation fee on food instead.

It was New Year's Eve, after all. He felt like he at least deserved to eat something delicious. Jungkook originally wanted to buy crabs but could only afford five sticks of chicken skewers and a bottle of the cheapest soju. 

Jungkook had low alcohol tolerance. It had been many years since he last drank, and the consequences of that night had been awful—so awful he decided to never drink again.

Tonight was the only night he'd break his promise. It was New Year's Eve. He had no one by his side; he could only rely on alcohol to give him warmth.

As expected, Jungkook's vision doubled after just a few sips of soju. He couldn't stop drinking, though. The alcohol burned his throat and stomach, but it was nothing compared to his bitterness as he looked at the building before him.

The Bighit building. 

Out of hundreds of restaurants and food stalls in Incheon, Jungkook had no idea why he chose to dine in a place where he would have a clear view of Bighit. He did so well trying to avoid going to this part of the city for years, so what changed tonight? Was the embarrassment he experienced earlier not enough?

Did he need to be reminded of the pain and humiliation he went through at the Bighit back then?

Or was it because he missed someone?   

Jungkook's heart throbbed just thinking about that someone. It had been long since they last saw each other. Things had changed already. Take Bighit as an example. It was called HYBE now.

Some people left, including him. But some things never changed. The building was still as magnificent as ever.

Jungkook felt nostalgic. He couldn't stop himself from walking toward HYBE. Years ago, he could go in and out of this building as he pleased.

Everyone would bow down and smile at him. What a pity that he could only stare at the façade of this company now.

Jungkook wasn't the same man years ago, but the alcohol clouded his mind. He felt as if nothing had changed. He thought he could stand outside the building, smiling like an idiot as he waved at an angry girl leaning against her car, a frown decorating her lips while rolling her eyes.

Jungkook smiled despite himself. How shameless of him to think about that girl? To think that he could drink alcohol and pretend like he could turn back time?

Oh, how he wished he could turn back time. He would do anything to see that girl roll her eyes again, to hear her scream one more time.

Jungkook laughed bitterly.

He missed the girl.

The snowflakes fell, followed by tears falling from his eyes. The tears he thought had frozen over time.

And then he heard the sound of the fireworks before seeing it illuminate the dark sky.

It's New Year.

He heard the sound of her voice before seeing her face-to-face.

"Jungkook."

The fireworks enveloped his ears, but it was nothing compared to his loud heartbeat.

Jungkook looked at the person who had just uttered his name.

Did time really freeze? Was this some kind of New Year miracle?

Or was the alcohol still messing with his brain, making him believe that he was still the Jungkook from the past? The Jungkook could see the girl, also known as you, any time he wanted.

Jungkook blinked, chuckling.

It was absurd.

How drunk was he to see your car again parked in front of Bighit?

Jungkook was drunk, but the image in front of him wasn't a fragment of his imagination.

You were really here to pick Jungkook up.

Just like before.

***

NEW JJK ONESHOT HERE

→ Next Chapter (02)

This fic is originally a soukoku fic which I'm posting/revamping as a JJK one (I don't know, man. I feel like I have to change the characters to eradicate my writer's block. This fic has been on hiatus for many years. This will probably have 8 chapters in total. (I've written 4/8 already, so stay tuned!) This is also for those few readers who never fail to message me, asking if I will be writing more JJK fics. Here you go, I guess? Hehehe

I appreciate COMMENTS the most <33 I love you, guys. Thanks for reading.

[theemporium]

[3.1k] it was a placebo effect. you were so sure of it. but a deal with your boyfriend makes you rethink your stance on the aphrodisiac-laced chocolate. (smut)

.

“I don’t buy it.” 

Eddie raised his brows, something quite like a smirk on his lips. “No?”

“Not for a second,” you said with a shake of your head. “It’s all a placebo effect.” 

“A placebo effect,” he repeated, thoroughly amused as he shifted back against his seat, his attention now purely focused on you. “I don’t think you can call drugs a placebo effect.” 

“It’s not drugs though,” you pointed out to him. “At least not any of the fun ones. It’s an aphrodisiac, also known as the coward’s drug.” 

This time Eddie snorted. 

“The dude supplying you is fucking with you, Eddie, you’ve been ripped off,” you said, sniffling a little as you took in the array of drugs lined up on the coffee table like it was an average Tuesday. 

Well, because for the two of you, it was an average Tuesday. 

“He said he’s tried it himself,” Eddie countered, his eyes watching you closely before he reached for what looked like—to the untrained eye—as a simple bar of chocolate. “Went as far as saying it worked wonders.” 

Your brows furrowed together in response. “I still don’t buy it.” 

The first Tuesday of the month was the same for Eddie. He would drive over a couple of towns, to a town that was much bigger than Hawkins. It would be a day trip, he would leave early in the morning after pressing a kiss to the top of your head before shoving his mouth with some toast as he walked out the trailer. He would get back an hour or so before dinner, utilising the coffee counter whilst you whipped something up for the two of you. It would take him an hour or so to get through everything and sort out his inventory, then he would be all yours for the rest of the night. 

No drugs. No distractions. Just you and him and whatever crappy movie he picked up from Family Video on the way back home.

Except, this Tuesday was a little different when Eddie barrelled through the door with a massive grin split across his face, already rambling about some new product his supplied had given him a few testers on. 

Hence, leading to the two of you staring at the somewhat disappointing chocolate bar.

“You’re being cynical,” he commented.

“I’m being realistic,” you retorted as you leaned over, plucking the bar between your fingers. There was no writing on the packaging, not a single word. It was just a simple black wrapper with a love heart plastered in the middle. You snorted at the sight. “Baby, you can’t seriously think this works?” 

Eddie only shrugged in response. 

You rolled your eyes, throwing the chocolate bar back down on the table. “You are too trusting in stupid shit.” 

“Hey, it’s never stopped that stupid shit being true in the past,” Eddie countered. “No one thought demogorgons were gonna be real now, did they?”

You gave him a pointed look. “Fair but—”

“Take it with me.”

You paused, your words faltering as you stared at him suspiciously. “What?”

“Take it with me,” he said as he reached for the bar of chocolate, waving it in a teasing manner. “If you’re so sure it’s a load of shit, then there is no harm in trying it, right? Worst case scenario, we enjoy a bit of chocolate and go about our lives knowing you were unfortunately right.”

Your lips twitched. “And best case scenario?” 

Eddie’s grin widened, boyish and cheeky and full of promises that made your thighs clench together. “We fuck like bunnies until the sun rises tomorrow morning.”

You snorted. “You have a way with words, Munson.”

But Eddie just extended the bar towards you. “First one to touch the other loses?” 

Your eyes narrowed on the bar, knowing very well that your boyfriend was baiting you. He was testing that competitive streak in you, that he was just goading you, tricking you. You knew that and yet, you still fell for it.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Munson.”

“That’s what I like to hear, sweetheart.” 

The first hour passed and you didn’t feel any different. You could have laughed at how blatantly stupid the whole scenario was. The chocolate didn’t taste any different to a bar you could buy at the store, maybe a little bitter but you just assumed it was dark chocolate and moved on. 

You made your way into the kitchen, deciding to finish up dinner whilst Eddie sorted out the last of his inventory before you both found yourself settled on the small couch, plates of pasta in your hands as the movie Eddie picked played on the television.

On separate sides of the couch, of course. 

There was something like a smug smirk on your lips as you happily ate your dinner, a rush of adrenaline coursing through you because you knew you were right. It was a load of shit, just some dumb trick to fool people into spending whatever obscene amount dealers could charge them for ‘sex chocolate’. 

It was around thirty minutes into the second hour when you started to feel hot. 

Not flushed. Not warm.

Hot. 

Your body felt hot, like it was burning up. It was uncomfortable, but not in the way you expected. It wasn’t the kind of heat you felt when you stayed out in the sun for too long and your skin started to feel prickly. It wasn’t the heat when it was stuffy and muggy and the air clung onto you like a second skin. 

It was the kind of heat when Eddie would whisper something filthy in your ear when you were out, when his voice was a little raspy and strands of his hair tickled your neck as he told you every single dirty, little thing he wanted to do to you before walking away like nothing happened.

It was the kind of heat when his chest was pressed against your back, his hands running over every inch of your body as he slowly slid his cock inside you, letting you feel every inch until you swore you could feel him in the back of your throat.

It was the kind of heat that had you begging to feel every inch of him pressed against you, but even then it wasn’t enough. 

You wanted to ignore it. You tried to ignore it.

But it only led to you being painfully observant of everything around you. 

The inches that separated you and Eddie on the couch, a distance that wasn’t all that big considering it was a small couch, but now felt like an ocean between you. You wanted it gone. You wanted to crawl over and settle yourself into his side, to just feel his body against yours.

The way his hand wrapped around the beer can, the clinking of his rings against the metal can. You could see the drops of condensation rolling down the can, you knew it was just out of the fridge and it would leave his hands and rings just cold enough to make you shiver if he touched your heated skin. You wanted to feel him.

The way his tongue darted out, wetting his lips every few minutes as his eyes remained focused on the screen. The way he would tug his bottom lip between his teeth, lightly biting down when the movie got too intense. You wanted to be the one to bite his lip, to hear that little groan he would let out when you’d suck it between your lips. 

You fucking wanted him more than you had ever wanted him in your life. And as stupid and dramatic as it sounded, you thought you were going to end up burning a hole through the couch if he didn’t touch you soon.

“You’re drooling a little, baby.” 

You blinked, snapping out of your spiralling thoughts to find your boyfriend grinning at you, this time looking as smug as you did less than an hour ago. You cleared your throat, turning your gaze to the television as you pretended to understand whatever was happening on the screen.

“What were you thinking about?” Eddie continued to push, a shit-eating grin on his face as he watched you squirm in your seat. 

“Taxes,” you stated bluntly.

He huffed out a laugh, his eyes falling down to your thighs as you clenched them together. “Didn’t realise taxes got you so worked up.”

“I find them riveting,” you continued.

“Really,” Eddie mused, stretching his arm across the back of the couch. It wasn’t close enough to touch you, but enough for you to be heavily aware of the ringed fingers a few mere inches away from you. “Nothing else is making you squirm?”

You instantly froze. “I’m not squirming.”

“You haven’t been able to sit still for the last twenty minutes, baby,” Eddie commented, his voice a little rougher as he spoke. “Bet you’re fucking soaked.

You stayed silent.

“You gonna admit it, sweetheart? Gonna admit you’re all worked up?” His words were like a phantom touch across your body. “Just sitting there, thinking how nice it would be just just feel my hand slide between your legs and touch your—”

“I’m actually fine,” you bit out, a little more high-pitched than you would have liked. “But it seems like you’re having some issues over there.”

“Baby, I’ve been as hard as a fucking rock since I came back home,” Eddie snorted as he eyed the shirt of his you had been prancing around in all day. “Don’t need some chocolate to make me wanna fuck you, but it’s definitely helping.”

Almost instinctively you glanced over, your eyes falling to his lap to see if he was telling the truth.

He was, and you almost instantly regretted looking.

He had changed into some sweatpants, and guessing by the tent in his trousers, it didn’t take a genius to figure out he wasn’t wearing boxers either. You could feel the coil in your stomach tightened as you stared at his bulge, imagining what it would feel like to just reach out. To wrap your hand around the length of him and listen to the way he would shatter under your touch before you wrapped your lips around his cock and—

“You’re drooling again, baby.”

Your eyes instantly snapped away again, your cheeks flushed and heated as you tried to focus on the movie again. But you didn’t know what was happening, you didn’t even know what the name of the movie was. All you could think about was Eddie’s cock. 

“Shit.”

Your head snapped around to look at him again when he let out a low groan, his head leaning back against the couch as he palmed the length of his cock over his sweatpants. Your lips parted, watching the way he twitched under the fabric.

“What…what are you doing?” 

His head turned to look at you, a lazy smile on his face. “Never said anything about not touching ourselves,” he pointed out, squeezing his cock and letting out a pathetic noise. “Ah, fuck.”

Your mouth ran dry as you watched him. He was far more captivating to watch than the crappy movie, the way his chest heaved up and down with soft pants as he tried not to buck his hips. He was so fucking pretty and he was all yours, and you didn’t give two shits about the bet or anything else.

You wanted him and you were going to have him.

Eddie barely blinked before you were on top of him, straddling his waist as your hands reached for his face. His lips parted in surprise, a noise of surprise leaving his lips as his hands instantly moved to your hips, holding and clinging onto you like he had been wanting to do for the last two hours. 

“Baby—”

“Shut up,” you grumbled against his lips before you kissed him. 

It wasn’t a sweet kiss. It wasn’t sweet or loving or full of affection. It was sloppy and messy and desperate. It was needy and pathetic and it wasn’t doing enough to damper the heat that settled over your whole body since you ate that damn chocolate bar. You wanted more. You needed more. 

“Knew you’d give in,” Eddie murmured between shared kisses, groaning when you nipped his lip a little too hard. “Knew you’d be eating your own words.”

“Yes, whatever,” you snapped before pulling back, taking in his flushed cheeks and smug expression. “And now, I want you to fuck me, Munson. So, shut up and fuck me.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he grinned as his hands dropped to your legs, squeezing the fat of your thighs as he moved like he was getting ready to stand up, but your hand on his chest stopped him.

“No,” you whined, your words a little breathier than you realised. “Here. Need you to fuck me here, Eddie.”

“Here?” he cooed, a tinge of mockery twisted in his words and it just made you squirm on his lap. “My pretty girl that needy for me? You don’t even wanna go to the bedroom?”

“Eddie,” you choked out, wiggling on his lap until you felt his bulge brushing against the cotton fabric of your panties. “Shit, please.”

“Shhh, baby, I got you,” he murmured as his hand rested on your throat, his thumb brushing against your beating pulse. “Gonna give you everything you need.”

You were too impatient to pause even for a second, let alone long enough to strip out of your clothes. But Eddie was no better. Despite the patronising words and soft touches, he was fucking desperate to be inside of you. He had been desperate and regretting his words the second the deal left his lips, he was just glad you finally gave in. 

His sweatpants were pushed down enough for his cock to spring free, red and leaking and desperate to be inside of you. You hadn’t even lifted yourself off his lap to take off your panties, just pushing them to the side as you swiped the tip of his dick along your soaking folds before you finally sunk down on him.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck—”

Your head fell to his shoulder, a muffled sob let out as you felt each inch of him slide inside you. His fingers were gripping the cheeks of your ass, squeezing and digging into your skin as he tried to hold back, as he tried to think about everything except the fact he wanted to come already.

That self restraint lasted all but thirty seconds before you were bouncing on his cock, before your nails were digging into his chest, before you were moaning like something out of a fucking porno. 

You had completely lost all care and inhibitions, and it was the hottest thing Eddie had ever seen in his life.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the trailer, deafening the movie still playing on the screen. You bounced on his cock until you came once, twice, three times and it still wasn’t enough. You wanted more of him, you needed to feel every part of him until it was all you could think, smell and taste. 

There was a part of him that would care later, that would be mindful of the mess you had both made. The fact your release was soaking your thighs, his own and the couch beneath you. The fact that the trailer was stuffy and hot and probably smelt like sex. The fact that the remaining clothes you had kept on were all but shredded in a pile on the floor.

Those would all be things for him to care about later, but not when your face was pressed against the arm of the couch, nails digging into fabric of the couch as you wiggled your ass impatiently. 

“Please,” you all but sobbed, one hand reaching back for him. “Please, Eddie, I need you—”

His hand reached for yours, intertwining your fingers before he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your cheek. “I know, baby, I know,” he cooed, his voice low and gruff and the whine that left your mouth was almost embarrassing. “Such a needy fucking slut.”

“Just need your cock,” you murmured, your eyes fluttering shut when you felt his tip nudge against your swollen clit. “Need you inside me, please.”

“My needy slut,” he murmured, another sloppy kiss placed against your lips before he sat up, his hands gripping your waist so tight you were sure you would bruise by the morning, but you didn’t care. 

Not when he started to pound into you from behind, not when the noises leaving your lips were debauched and desperate and sending a thrill of pleasure down his spine. Not when he could feel your walls clenching around him, your ass bouncing against his pelvis with every thrust until he couldn’t help himself as his hand came down on your ass cheek.

The moan you let out only encouraged him to do it again.

“Shit, look at you,” he groaned, watching the way your needy cunt swallowed him whole with every buck of his hips. “S’like you were made f’me, baby, fucking made for my cock.”

Your moans were whiny and incoherent.

“Yeah? My little whore made for my cock?” he gritted out through clenched teeth, his hips pressed against yours as he leaned over your body, as his chest pressed against your back and his arms wound around your body to grope your tits. “My little toy, hm?”

“Yours,” you murmured out, your lips parting in a silent scream as the coil deep in your stomach tightened. 

“My little toy gonna come?” he murmured, watching in delight the way you silently nodded, tears slipping down your face. “Come f’me, baby, let me feel you come.” 

 You were a mess by the time Eddie came too, a mix of your come and his own leaking out of you and onto the couch. Your skin was shiny with a layer of sweat, your body far too tired to even hold yourself up. And yet, still, you craved him. You craved more.

“Those chocolates are fucking dangerous,” Eddie murmured in amusement as he placed a bottle of water at your lips, lightly slapping your ass until you finally took a few gulps.

“Need you,” you whispered with a sniffle.

“Still?” He grinned before he joked. “Maybe we should do this every day.”

“Eddie,” you whined but he was there, he was always there to give you want.

“I know, baby, but gotta give you a lil’ break,” he murmured, and yet despite saying as much, you couldn’t help but let out a needy mewl when he slid back inside you, quick and easy considering how wet you still were. “Gonna keep you full, honey. I said until the morning, and I mean that.”

“Good,” you grumbled as you nuzzled yourself against his chest, still craving that closeness.

“Remind me to call Johnny tomorrow and ask for a bigger batch of those chocolates too.” 

You could only snort in response as Eddie placed a kiss against your temple.

.

[warmilikeit]

Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood (Neglected reader)

Dc x Pjo

Part 9

______________________________

It was now morning, the air was humid and the chariots were lined up, everyone on the sidelines was packed with food, every second you wish you were in those benches

"One... Two.... Three... GO!" Tantalus yelled and the campers roared

The Ares chariot was quick, but the Hermes chariot led by the not twins Travis and Connor Stoll, Connor was shooting rocks in between the wheels of chariots

Leading first is the Hephaestus chariot led by Charles Beckendorf and his brother, second is Poseidon Chariot led by Percy Jackson and Tyson the cyclops

No way you were going to let them win

Your sister Yvonne Bailey Daughter of a multi-million fashion designer grabbed some arrows, her step mother (Aphrodite approved) was an Olympic archer, she taught Yvonne everything she knows

Which is lucky because in this race your opponents either throw arrows or bombs, even luckier cause someone on the Aphrodite cabin knows how to make arrow bombs (you duh)

And you may or may have not taken green arrows design but it's not like he can sue you, I mean come on you're dead

"No hard feelings (Name)" Annabeth smiles as her chariots bumps yours

Yvonne recovering from the shock stood up again quickly "You did not just do that", she prepared an arrow and shot at their left wheel, tried to shoot at least

The arrow instead hit the Hermes chariot and it crashed onto the Hephaestus chariot

Well they say it's better to destroy two chariots with one arrow

Now it was just You and Yvonne, Annabeth and her brother, Percy and Tyson

AND CLARISSE LA RUE????

For some reason, even if they were stuck at the back of the track trying to get he ricks out of their wheels, they managed to bypass the other burning down chariots in their way

It was fine, you liked a challenge, Then Stymphalian birds (flesh eating demon birds) started raining down from the sky and started pecking at the campers

A flock of these birds started to attack your chariot, without thinking you grabben an arrow and shit at them...

... without proper space distance, making the explosion close to you chariot

Yvonne grabbed you and ducked down and the horses who were carrying your chariot went feral trying to avoid the demon birds themselves

Percy who slipped out of the race, managed to grab a boom box and played this awful music that made the birds screech, but stopped them from attacking

The Apollo kids took this as a chance to shoot them down

And when you thought it was over, Clarisse came running through with her chariot and won the race

Despite the injuries of the racers and the non racers, they cheered

______________________________

Jason grumbled at the sight of his family, gloomy, "Hey, Breakfast has been ready for hours now, Duke is waiting!"

"I know but I found new information, according to here, Empousa only drink the blood of their victims, not eat them, that would mean there is still a body-" Tim has been researching every Greek monster ever since, trying to find a clue on how to see them properly

Diana had explained this most that covers the mortal eye from the divine world, with the announcement that the gods are real...

People have been starting to get stressed, since the most is still in effect, people are accusing each other of being monsters in disguise

"I don't get why you're doing so much for a fake" Jason glared, true he was shocked at the death, but... It's not like this was the first time (Name) died

The little replacement to protect dad's sanity was dead, so?

______________________________

According to Tantalus, we should be punished, because according to him the stymphalian birds were just minding their business and only attacked because they were bothered by Percy's horrible chariot driving

"go chase a donut!" Percy stomped off as Tantalus continues to yell at him and Tyson scurries behind behind Percy

I grabbed a piece of fruit from a table that managed to survive the attack and waved it around so Tantalus could see

And I ate it in front of him.

"Okay you too! Both you and Percy and the monster will be washing the dishes tonight" he yelled

Annabeth's brows furrowed "That's not fair! (Name) Just ate! You can't punish her for eating!"

"you're punished as well! Everyone cleans this mess! And make dinner for Clarisse if you want, a banquet or something, but stay the fuck away from my sight" now it was Tantalus's turn to stomp away

______________________________

(Name): eats*

Tantalus who was cursed to never eat: I'm offended

______________________________

@delias-stuff @sadslasher13 @ellaprime7 @wpdarlingpan @mountvesuvu @chinxinsomnia @nathaly36 @vanessa-boo @bat1212 @ceramic-raven @sweetconnoisseurgardener @dhanyasri @bella-wolf100 @shortnsweetsposts @roseapov @d3sperate-enuf @d3kstar

[scoutswritingcorner]

It's Still You

Alastor x GN!Reader

A/n: Part two of ‘Despite Everything’ also a big thank you to my lovely Kuro (@kurosstuff)- They helped me figure this out!!

TW:Crying, talks about murder, a little screaming, angst. DONT WORRY THERE IS FLUFF I PROMISE!!

He didn’t remember when Rosie had guided him to sit down at a table, you sat across from him as Rosie had to leave to go make some tea saying something about “Needing to talk it out”. He would agree but his pride didn’t want to be bruised more than it already was. The way you won’t even look at him, of course he didn’t blame you but it still irked him to no end.

“Darling..” He started but was caught off with a loud scoff from you, “You don’t get to call me that anymore, Alastor.” You hissed venom lacing your tongue and it went right to his undead heart like a knife. He stayed silent for the first time in a long time, The Great Radio Demon was stunned silent and backed down like a kicked dog. But what made it worse was how tears started to well up in your eyes yet you didn’t acknowledge them, only looked at the wall across from you. “..Rosie told me you were still singing around here..you have your own little parlor..” He whispered out the radio effect gone from his voice, you nodded wordlessly.

He played with his cane and looked away from your face, “Why do you care? Have you ever fucking cared, Alastor?” You hissed out finally looking- no glaring at him. “Was our marriage just for show? It felt like it.” He flinched as his ears fell flat on his head at that thought of you thinking he truly didn’t love you. He showed it the best ways he could. “No no, it was never for show. I could never hurt you like that.” He calmly replied, trying not to let anyone see how upset he was at your words. No one could know The Radio Demon had a weakness.

That made you sob out and stand up collecting your things. He stood up as well reaching out for you but you moved away from his reach. “But you did. You killed me, Alastor. I did everything for you, I got the cops off your tail and covered your tracks when you were too damned tired to notice you got sloppy.” You yelled out, “I worshiped you, you were my husband, what else was I supposed to do?” Tears now falling freely down your face as your hands trembled, “I was scared of my own husband during my last moments alive.” 

He froze in place his ever lasting smile had fallen into a deep frown as he slowly walked closer to you. “That was probably my first fucking mistake in a long line of them but love makes you do crazy shit. And I truly did love you..I still do but I’m so afraid.” His shadow curled around your body as his hands finally reached to cup your face, wiping the tears away from your eyes. “I love you as well, my Songbird.” He started watching as you nuzzled into his hands, “I loved you from the moment I laid my eyes on you. I’m sorry for everything I have done..for how I’ve hurt you. You were never my target.” He whispered out, pulling you closer to his body.

“You were my everything, cher..” He leaned his forehead against yours as you let another sob rip through you. “My driving force, the person I wanted beside me at all times..could we try again? If you allow me the chance?” He asked softly, smiling as he felt your hands, your much softer hands than his, had grabbed onto his clawed ones and nodded. “I would like that, Al..I’m sorry..” 

He hummed and gently placed a kiss upon your forehead, “There is nothing to be sorry for. Tu as toujours eu mon coeur, mon petit oiseau chanteur.” He wouldn’t ruin this chance, not again. You both would run Hell side by side.

A/n: This made me fucking cry so much, I hope everyone loves it! Translation: "You always had my heart, my little songbird."

[crookedteethed]

Heyy on your Rafe nsfw abcs you mentioned Rafe and r having a quickie at midsummers 😭 curious to know what all went down

Heyyy!! Thanks sm for the request, and I hope you enjoy the fic. <3

Warnings: 18+ semi-public sex, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), Jealous!Rafe, Possessive!Rafe, dub con(?) mentions of violence, angst, fem reader

(the post they're referring to: here )

Rafe liked the way the heel in your stilettos raised the ball of your foot. Streamlined and pointed, their shape is in line with the elegant leg-lengthening effect that they give you, causing you to appear much taller than you were.

The stilettos also had an effect that made you have a sudden flair of sexiness and confidence that (unbeknownst to you) had Rafe seething and wondering if you knew just what these effects had on not only Rafe but the other men attending Midsummers.

Rafe also liked the way your tight-fitted slip dress left little to imagine about your body in his mind. Though, he wished you had gone with the all-black thong instead of the bright pink thong with the star on its mound—the thin bright pink was starting to show through your white dress. 

Of course, Rafe marveled at the sight of your hot pink thong bleeding through your dress, but it was always that nagging thought in his head that said: the other men, the other men are watching. That instantly turned Rafe off. 

Either his nagging jealousy problems were causing him trouble, or everyone else around him having fun besides him. Ward and Rose are laughing and toasting it up with Ward's work colleagues, Wheezie is in the corner dancing with her friends, Sarah is secretly taking shots with Topper, and you are being pulled onto the dance floor by two of your friends.

And here Rafe was, downing his third shot, leaning against a wall, watching you like a hawk.

He should've been happy. 

This was his first year coming to Midsummer's with a date that wasn't one of Ward's big-haired coochie colleagues' daughters or some slut who let him in her panties once or twice. 

He was supposed to be here with you, but there you were, getting ogled and preyed on by gross (old and young) men. And if it weren't for your stupid, stupid friends dragging you onto the dance floor, Rafe wouldn't be looking at you swaying your body in a sensual movement as Usher's Yeah! started to play. 

And if you weren't swaying your body in the center of the dance floor, then Rafe wouldn't have noticed that shit-pouge waiter ogling at your curves.

Shouldn't he be working? Rafe thought.

Who gave that pouge the right to look at his girl? Better yet, who gave any of these shits the right to look at his girl? Kook or pouge, they didn't have the right to look at you--not in the way they did.

Rafe begins stalking towards the waiter, ready to pluck out his eyes, just when he hears you calling his name.

"Rafe!!" You call out, motioning him to join you on the dance floor.

Rafe stops in his tracks, watching you watch him; he then starts walking towards you, most of his anger tarnishing.

Ok, so he'll get back with that waiter later, get him fired or something.

"Come." You say, putting your hand in his. "Dance with me."

Rafe kept that stoic look on his face as you and your friends danced around him. He saw the same waiter looking at you again, and that's when Rafe told you:

"Let's go."

His tone is very assertive, analogous to your parents putting you in time out after you've been bad.

"What?" you say, worried.

Rafe's heavy hands grip your forearm and drag you from the dance floor.

Rafe didn't care.

He didn't care about your friends calling your name or the worrisome stare you gave him. He didn't care at all.

"Rafe, baby, please tell me what's wrong." you say, your footsteps becoming maladroit as you walk under Rafe's guide.

Rafe didn't say anything, so you didn't say anything afterward, knowing to remain silent when he gets like this.

You were shocked to see that Rafe had brought you to the men's bathroom, and Rafe was even surprised himself.

He looked around the spacious bathroom, letting you go for a second to look on the other side of the divided room.

When he comes back he says: "Come on, get in there." while harshly grabbing your forearm again and lightly dragging you into the last stall to the right.

Rafe had a funny feeling brewing in his stomach as he pushed your front against the bathroom stall's cold tile walls and unbuckled the belt holding up his slacks. It was as if he was mad at you, but how could he be?

You, in particular, hadn't done anything to provoke him; those slimy men looking at you provoked him. Of course, he wanted to take his anger out on the waiter and the other men, but why you, too?

As Rafe hitched up your dress to bunch around your waist, you felt the sudden cool breeze pierce the skin of your ass.

He marveled at the sight of your hot pink thong, fucking finally. Biting his bottom lip at the skimpy fabric snugged between your ass cheeks.

"Rafe." you moaned, detesting in the anticipation.

"Shut up." he tells you, pushing your face into the wall.

Just after, Rafe index finger dug the string from your ass, and gently pushed it aside.

His belt buckle clacks quickly, and you hear his pants and underwear being pushed down to his ankles. You try to catch a glimpse of him, but Rafe's hand is splayed across your head and your cheek is again meshed with the cold tile.

Rafe's rage was radiating from his body, and you could feel it (it being his tip) teasing the flesh of your ass. You wondered what you had done this time, beginning to feel Rafe's length—all 7.1 inches of it—push inside your tight cunt, stopping you in your tracks.

An elongated shrill escapes your pouty lips, like the sound of a person getting stabbed in the back with a knife and letting the knife twist the bone, but to you at that moment, that's exactly what Rafe's cock felt like.

Like you just had an iron-hot poker thrust through your gut--repeatedly.

Your slick feels the silence, along with you and Rafe's grunts and pleas, but mainly the filthy squelching sound that manifested itself from each time Rafe's cock plummeted in and out of your cunt.

For a second, Rafe takes his eyes off your plump ass and looks at you for the first time during this fuck. Your legs are weak and nearly buckling, your makeup smudging on the tile wall due to the tears that strain from your eyes, and you had a tight grip held onto the metal accessibility rail bolted into the wall.

He'd gotten a feeling of guilt wash over his body, a sense that he predicted that would prevent him from cumming.

Here he was, with the finest girl on figure eight, fucking her in the bathroom stall like she was a slut.

What if, after this, you decide to break up with him?

or worst

You break up with him and decide to date that loser waiter pouge or any of the men out there ogling you, find someone who can treat you better.

Rafe slowly pulls himself out of you. You pout at the feeling of emptiness inside you, but your insides feel relieved.

There's a dull silence for a second, during which Rafe turns you around and brings your pouty lips to his in an everlasting kiss that almost turns you both into jelly.

You swear that after the kiss, Rafe says, "I'm sorry." But, before you can say anything more, words die on lips as he gives you another mouth-watering kiss, wraps your leg around his waist, and starts to fuck you again—this time slowly—leaving you speechless with the realization that he's the only man who gets to treat you this way.

[sometimesanalice]

Bad Idea

Summary: After being deployed, all Bradley wanted was to have a fun night out with his friends and let loose. That is until he sees the woman who broke up with him, who he still isn’t over.  At his bar. With another man. And then he is in the mood to make some bad decisions. 

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Reader

Warnings: mutual pining, a little angst, smuttt. Minors DNI

Length: 6.3K

After being deployed for three months, Bradley had been looking forward to getting off that carrier and having a night out with his friends. Having a couple more beers than he should, kicking Hangman’s ass at pool, maybe flirting one of the many tag chasers that frequented the Hard Deck.

He wants to let loose a bit. Just for a while. 

The team is scattered around the bar. Some are hovering around the pool table, a few others hogging the dart board. He’s seated at one of the stools around the pool table, half listening to Fanboy recount some of his amusing antics during basic flight training in between lining up his shots, when he feels Phoenix nudge his arm to get his attention.

“Oh shit, is that…” she starts and trails off. 

He turns around in his seat expecting to find some friend from a former squadron or someone they went to TOPGUN with, and instead he sees you. 

The woman that he has spent the last three months trying to get over.

And you’re here in front of him looking entirely too comfortable with another man.

“Is that Zach Collins she’s with?” Phoenix asked pointedly, being decidedly unsubtle as she studies you and your date. 

“Sure looks like it,” he grunts. He lets his eyes linger on you, absorbing the shape of your curves. 

You are just as pretty as ever. The summer had been good to you, all your sun kissed skin was on display in the strappy open back top you were wearing. 

There’s a cluster of freckles on your right shoulder blade, he can’t see them from here, but he remembers their exact placement all the same. 

He feels the low pull in his stomach, not surprised in the least that you still have this effect on him. He wants to trace those straps with his fingers, wants to see if your skin is just as smooth as knew it to be.

You should be here with him.

Collins was fine. 

Bradley had worked with the engineer a few times in the past, and there wasn’t anything wrong with the guy. Except for that one time he asked one of the new female engineers to make the coffee for the team’s weekly debrief, which he was quickly put in his place for.

He was just boring as fuck. 

And apparently somehow lucky enough to have caught your eye.

“Damn, I really liked her,” Phoenix lamented, watching as your date handed you a drink, “What the hell did you do to send her into Collins arms?” 

“Thanks for the support, Nat,” he grumbles, down the rest of his beer in one go. Squeezing the empty glass a little too hard when he sees Collins checking out your ass as you leaned forward to chat with Penny above the noise of the bar. 

“But seriously, Rooster, she was so into you,” she continued as she turned back towards him, looking at him scrutinizingly, “There was no way that she would have been the one to end it with you, so what were you thinking letting her go?”

“Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t just bet on that.” He was regretting downing his beer, he’d need another one if Nat is going to give him the third degree.

“Hold up, she dumped you?” she asks perplexed, her eyebrows pulling together.

“Yup.” The word was flat and hollow even in his own ears.

He’d spent most of his free time during that deployment working off his feelings in the weight room. 

Instead of counting his sets, he was thinking about you and racking his brain trying to figure out what went wrong. Going over the night you broke up with him over and over again. Pushing himself until his arms shook and his legs couldn’t support the added weights. Combing through everything he could think of, only to come up with nothing. 

You hadn’t been dating that long, but you had made him happier than he had felt in a long time. And he thought he had made you happy too.  

He had been so into you.

And now you’re here at the bar he used to bring you to and standing close to Zach fucking Collins instead of being tucked under his arm.

Smiling at Zach fucking Collins instead of grinning at him.

Politely chuckling with Zach fucking Collins instead of unabashedly laughing with him. 

Bradley hated the feeling settling in his stomach as he watched you give Zach fucking Collins your full attention. He can still remember how good it felt to have it directed at him. How warm it made his chest when you turned the full force of your smile on him.

You must feel the intensity of his stare or of his wishful thinking because you turn to scan the bar, and he swears he stops breathing for a second when your eyes snag on his. The smile freezing on your lips as you hold his gaze.

If it wasn’t completely obvious before this, it’s even more clear to him that he is absolutely nowhere near being over you. And with you looking at him now, he doesn’t want to be. 

He can’t quite read the look that’s in your eyes, but it makes his gut twist with longing.

And then Zach fucking Collins is putting his hand on your bare shoulder, pulling your attention back to him. 

All Bradley knows in that moment is that he needs to talk to you right fucking now. That he wants you back.

“I need another beer,” he announces, tapping his knuckles on the table. 

“That seems like a bad idea considering who is currently occupying the bar. How about I go get the next round?” Nat suggested, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Funny you’d say that, since that’s exactly what I was thinking too.”

He had an idea coming together, he couldn’t claim it was a good one, but that wasn’t going to stop him.

“Rooster.”

“Phoenix,” he retorted, “Remember when I covered for you when you were hooking up with that civvy in the barracks? I’m calling in the favor, Nat.”

“Why do I feel like this has the potential to be a bad idea?” she muttered, shaking her head as she slid out of her chair.

As he watches Natasha weave her way through the crowd, he realizes there are a variety of ways this could backfire. But he pushes all those thoughts out of his head when he sees her striking up a conversation with the engineer, providing the distraction he needs to talk with you alone.

He saunters up to the bar, admiring your profile as he gets closer. Raising a hand to flag Penny down as he settles down next to you.

“It’s good to see you, Rooster. It’s been awhile. Another one for you?” Penny asks, and he feels you stiffen next to him. 

“Thanks, Penny. It’s nice to be home. And I’ll take a pint of the Pale Ale too, please.”

Bradley watches as Penny briefly glances at you. He gives her a small nod in confirmation as she grabs the glasses to pour the beers. 

She slides them over giving him an entirely too knowing look before turning to help another patron. 

“How have you been?” he asks as he passes you the beer, noting that your perfume hasn’t changed since he’s been gone.

“I’ve been fine, Rooster,” you say mildly. 

“You look good,” he murmurs softly. 

He’s not surprised when you that, instead choosing to make small talk since your date was conveniently occupied, “So…How long were you away?”

“Three months,” he says leaning a hip against the bar to face you.

He sees as you put it together, that he’s been gone almost as long as you’ve been broken up.

“Well, I’m glad you’re home safe. But you didn’t need to do that,” you say gesturing to the drink.

The one you are nursing is still over half full, but it feels right that he should be the one buying your drinks. 

“What’s one beer between…” he pauses for a moment, letting his gaze playfully rake over you before settling on, “Friends.”

Your eyebrow ticks up pointedly, “My ex probably shouldn’t be buying me a drink when I’m on a date with someone else.”

We don’t have to be.

“Tell me, what’s Collins bringing to the table?” he asks jerking his chin towards the dull engineer. 

He tried to swallow down the flicker of irritation that sparked when he said the other man’s name, but the frustration wells up in his chest.

“Don’t,” you say sharply, your pretty eyes flashing, “You don’t get to act jealous, Rooster. You are the one who wanted to break up with me.”

“What are you talking about?” he presses, feeling his brows knitting together, “You’re the one who broke up with me.” 

“Stop. I may have beat you to it, but I heard you talking to Jake,” your voice had gone tight, and you wouldn’t look at him, “You told him how you wanted to end it, but weren’t sure how to do it. So I did it for you.” 

This conversation was not going the way he hoped it would, and now he was more confused than ever.

“Wait, what?” he asks settling a hand on your waist to turn you towards him. He genuinely had no clue where you’d gotten that from, “I didn’t want to break up.”

“Seriously, Rooster?” Your eyes shoot back to him and he can see your temper flaring there.

Shaking your head at him in frustration, you grab his hand and pull him away from the bar to a quiet corner of the bar. 

He’d be more smug about how you’ve ditched your date for him, if his mind wasn’t all over the place trying to figure out what the hell you were talking about.

“I came out on the patio that night to see if you and Jake wanted another round, and I heard you. ‘I don’t know how to tell her, and we’ve only been together three months. It’s just too much.’ Does that sound familiar?” you questioned, raising your chin at him in a challenge.

Of course, he remembers that night. 

As if he hadn’t played it over and over.  He remembered how withdrawn you had been when he had come back inside with Jake. You ended things with him less than thirty minutes later.

And now he knows why. 

It hadn’t been him. It was a misunderstanding. A conversation taken out of context. The pressure in his chest that had been building up eases.

He can’t erase the last three months, but he can fix this. He needs to fix this.

You look so hurt, and all he wants to do is pull you to his chest. 

“I didn’t want to wait around for you to break my heart, so I made it easy for you and ended it myself instead,” your voice thick.

He is waiting for you to realize that your hand is still in his.

“I wasn’t going to end it,” he promised as he steps closer to you, squeezing your hand, “That night on the patio? I told Jake about my orders, I wanted to ask him how he had navigated the long distance with his girlfriend. I didn’t know how to tell you I was going to be shipped out last minute and gone for basically as long as we had been together.” 

“The deployment you just came back from,” you whisper, as realization dawned on your face.

He nods and searches your eyes, willing you to be back on the same page as him. He hasn’t stopped wanting you, not once since you broke things off with him. 

There is a hopefulness in your eyes for the first time since he approached you at the bar, and he’s encouraged.

And then he sees your face fall.

“I… I should get back to my date,” you mumbled, dropping his hand and looking away from him.

“I wasn’t going to end it,” he repeats firmly, ducking his head trying meet your avoidant gaze.

He needs you to hear him. 

“It doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done,” you tell him quietly as you walk back to Collins where he was still wrapped up in whatever small talk Nat had been forcing on him.

“The hell it is,” he says to himself, resolve firm in his chest. 

You tried to keep up with Zach as he chattered away, you really did. But try as you might you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the propulsion system his team was developing. 

You hadn’t been back to the Hard Deck since you ended things with Bradley.

When Zach had suggested bringing you here, you balked a bit at the thought of running into any of the people you had met and befriended through Bradley. 

At the idea of being known as just his ex. 

At the possibility of seeing him again.

It had been three months, you should be over him. Hearing his name shouldn’t still make your heart stutter in your chest. Seeing him in that ridiculous Hawaiian shirt shouldn’t make you long to take it off of him.

He looked so good tonight. 

You didn’t know how it was possible, but he looks even more broad now than he did before.

Bradley Bradshaw’s baseline is handsome, but tonight it’s been a test to keep yourself from admiring the way the cuff on his shirt hugs his biceps. How the ridges of his abs stand in relief against his undershirt. Did his jeans always grip to his thighs like that?

And god, you feel terrible about thinking about him like that when you’re literally on a date with another man. But not guilty enough to stop yourself from checking him out every chance you got.

And there was no avoiding him, Bradley was everywhere. A constant reminder of just how royally you fucked everything up. 

He was already at the bar when you were planning on getting about her round. 

Hovering near the jukebox when you were about to go feed it some quarters to put a stop to the painful and unending Jason Aldean retrospective. 

Needless to say, your glass remained empty, but thankfully someone changed the music and one of your favorite bands was playing over the speakers. 

It is impossible not to feel his presence, his energy. You swear there are times you feel his heated gaze on you, the sensation of it sending pulses of electricity down your spine. 

He wasn’t going to dump you.

Bradley seemed too good to be true, so when you overheard that conversation you’d let your mind spiral instead of just talking to him. Because what else could he have been talking about other than figuring out how to end things with you?

A deployment apparently. 

He had called and texted afterwards, and you deleted every single attempt without looking. Why didn’t you just talk to him?

And you couldn’t see a way to get back to how things were with him, now that he’d seen you self-destruct in spectacular fashion. 

Why would he want to be with you after you dumped him so casually, like it didn’t mean anything. Like he didn’t mean anything to you. 

God, you were such an idiot. 

Zach had been gone for a few minutes. He went to get another drink for himself, and had apparently forgotten about it since he was engaged in deep conversation with someone you recognized as a member of his team from the introductions earlier in the evening.

You’re startled by a warm hand skimming your shoulder. Surprised when Bradley pulls out the chair next to you, his knee nudging yours as he settles into it like he belongs there. 

“How long have you been seeing him?” he asks, leaning in to your space.

“It’s our third date.”

You weren’t sure what he was playing at, but if this was going to be one of the last times you saw him, you were going to let yourself have this. Even if it was a terrible idea.

“How’d you meet?”

“As one does in the twenty-first century, on an app,” you retort, tapping a couple fingers on your phone that is resting on the table.

Truth be told, you had only installed it after a drunken Girls Night a couple weeks ago. Zach was the first person you’ve been out with since Bradley. And you were quickly learning that he had set the bar high.

“Our story is better,” he rasps, there was an unwavering intensity in way he was looking at you. 

“Well, not everyone gets a meet cute, Rooster,” you sigh resigned. 

“We did.”

You can smell faintest hint of bourbon and bitters on his breath. He told you once it’s usually his liquor of choice when he is in the mood to make some bad decisions. And you briefly wonder whether or not that’s the reason why he is drinking it tonight.

“Yes, we did,” you admit softly.

Bradley Bradshaw had literally knocked you off your feet before he figuratively swept you off of them. 

He had been absolutely mortified when he had accidentally collided with you during a game of dog fight football when you had been walking along the beach after brunch with your friends. He had all but carried you up to the Hard Deck to help clean you up and to make sure you were ok.

Concern turned into flirting, “you’re too pretty for a concussion” he’d told you. While the line was cheesy, the snug denim shorts he was wearing were decidedly not. And then flirting turned into an invitation to meet up later that day where he could properly apologize in the form of a great night out and drinks on him. 

And a couple weeks later you were spending most nights in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets and sandalwood scent. 

You feel instantly warm remembering just how good it felt to have Bradley’s strong body pressed against yours.

“Has he made you come?” 

“Jesus, Bradley!” You shoot straight up in your seat, looking around wide-eyed trying to make sure no one overheard that particular comment. Shocked by his words and the way he seemed to know where your mind had wandered. 

“Do you remember our second date?” he questioned, his voice dropping lower. He’s even closer now.

Of course, you remembered. 

There was no way you could ever forget the way he had worked you with his fingers in his Bronco parked at a scenic viewpoint along the coast. How it felt to writhe on his lap with your dress rucked up your thighs as he rasped dirty praise in your ear. 

You had never moved that quickly with anyone. Had ever felt that much chemistry with anyone. Had never wanted anyone as much as you had wanted him. Had never come as quick with anyone else.

You felt hot all over. With confusion. With longing. 

“Bradley,” you warned, it sounded weak in your own ears.

“I wasn’t going to end it,” he steadfastly tells you again for the third time this evening.

“I heard you the first time,” you snap.

You are entirely too aware of how you fucked everything up. It’s been the only thing on your mind all night since he told you.

“You sure about that?” The irritation in his voice, matching the heat in his eyes, “Then what are you still doing with him?” 

It wasn’t fair for him to toy with you like this. He said it was a beer between friends. He hasn’t said anything that makes you think he would give you a second chance. That door was closed, but it didn’t hurt any less. Not when you were still so into him.

“He’s… nice,” you mutter unconvincingly, fiddling with your coaster.

“Nice?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, Bradley. Nice.” You can hear how defensive you sound, but somewhere in the back of your mind realize that you’re having a better time arguing with Bradley than you’ve had all night with Zach.

“Baby, Collins is as bland as that gluten free bread you keep trying to trick yourself into liking.”

You can’t control the laugh that escapes you in that moment. 

Surprised that he remembers that about you, almost as if he knew about the sad sandwich you had lamented over during your lunch break earlier in the day. When you promised yourself that you’d stop buying that terribly unsatisfying gluten free bread.

The heated pressure that has been building between the two of you breaks. His eyes soften and the tension leaves his face as the corner of his mouth twitches up in a half smile.

“I missed that sound,” he murmurs, as he traces a thumb along the delicate skin of your wrist. “I thought about it a lot on that carrier. Thought about how much I missed you. Your laugh. Your smile. The sounds you made in my bed.”

Your breath catches in your throat. And for the first time that night you think there might be a chance.

You don’t know, but you’re desperate to find out. Your heart is pounding, as you open your mouth to ask the question-

“Hey, Bradshaw,” Zach interrupts, returning back to the table with a fresh drink in his hand, “I heard you just got back.”

You jerk back, surprised by just how close you and Bradley had gravitated towards each other during the conversation. How had you not noticed that your faces had been scarcely a few inches away from each other?

Bradley’s unwavering gaze is still on you. You can feel him willing you to ask the question that had been on the tip of your tongue, but you barely knew where you stood with him. 

Could barely think around him when he looked at you like that.

“Do you guys know each other?” he asks curiously, glancing between the two of you as Bradley ignores him in favor of staring at you.

“Uhm, yeah. You could say that,” you hedge uncomfortably, trying not to fidget in your seat.

“Biblically,” you hear him huff under his breath, for your ears only.

“Well, the dart board is finally open. How about we play couple rounds?” Zach suggests, settling his hand on your shoulder.  

You can tell by the way Bradley is flexing his jaw that he wants to say more. And you’re dying to throw yourself at him, to ask him if he would ever want to open that door again. 

But you had read him so wrong the first time, you didn’t trust yourself not to get it wrong again.

So you slide off the stool instead, “I’ll see you around, Rooster.”

Phoenix told him he was watching you with a stalker-like intensity, Bradley argued he was just being observant. 

“And don’t even think about sending me back in to try and distract Collins again. Frankly, I think you owe me a favor now. That guy is painfully boring,” she’d complained.

If you didn’t want him, he hoped you could figure out a way to be friends. Even if you did have history. 

And friends tell each other the truth, like when they’re dating the human equivalent of a rice cake. Or that they should forget about the rice cake completely and come back to him instead.

He noticed when your beer was getting low, and just so casually stationed himself near the bar for another chance to talk to you. But when you didn’t move for a refill, he had to resort to more drastic measures.

It had hurt him to pay for and queue up that terrible country music, but he figured it would be worth it if he could catch you by the jukebox, knowing that you hated this music just as much as he did.

But you when didn’t get up to change it as he expected you to, he’d put on one of your favorite artists instead and made his way back to his friends. Trying to figure out how else he could get you alone to talk. 

Usually he didn’t mind an audience, but tonight he didn’t want anyone else getting in between the two of you.

He thought he would finally have his moment to make you see reason and choose him when Collins had gotten waylaid at the bar, probably talking about math equations or whatever the fuck engineers talked about. 

But that conversation had only left him half hard and entirely desperate for you. And he didn’t feel any closer to getting you back than he had at the beginning of the night.

Having been banished by Jake for being “pathetically sulky”, he was sitting at the bar by himself staring into his untouched Old Fashioned. Which worked just fine for him, he wasn’t in the mood to be around anyone other than you.

Bradley wasn’t ready to be done. 

He could see it in your eyes that you weren’t ready to be done either, but he couldn’t figure out why you were holding back. He thought he had been clear that he still wanted you. 

Now that you knew it had all be a misunderstanding, he’d respect your decision if you didn’t want to be with him. But he needed to hear you say it. To tell him to his face.

You couldn’t actually think that Collins was a good match for you. You deserved so much better than that guy. 

And he wasn’t going to give up without a fight.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you turning down the hallway towards the bathrooms, and he struck with another bad idea. Probably the worst one of the night. 

Shooting up from his seat, he catches up with you in a few long strides. And then recklessly, he is grabbing you by the wrist as he pulls you with him into the Hard Deck’s storage room.

You whirl on him instantly, “Oh my god, Bradley! What the hell?”

He knows he had been toeing the line all night, but now he’s made you angry. 

And it shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does. The blaze in your eyes, the way your chest is rapidly rising up and down. Even in this dingy, dimly lit room you’re still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

“Sorry, sorry,” he tries to soothe, putting both his hands up. “But you and I both know we weren’t finished talking before Collins-”

“Enough, Bradley. You weren’t going to end it. I get it, I messed up!” you cut him off, putting a hand to your chest, “You’re already so hard to move on from, but I don’t think I can handle anymore of you dangling what could have been in my face. It’s not fair that you won’t let me try, if you don’t want me that way anymore.”

You turn to leave and his heart squeezes in his chest. This can’t be it. He doesn’t want this to be the end.

“Woah, woah, woah,” he desperately reaches out, pulling you against his chest. You tense as he wraps his arms around the front of you, “What gave you that idea? Talk to me. Please.”

It feels right to have you in his arms again. To hold you. And you fit just as perfectly against him as he remembered.

“I feel like you’re giving me mixed signals. You called us friends at the bar, but then you tell me all the ways you thought about me while you were deployed,” you admit quietly, “I don’t know what to think. And I already ruined a good thing, I don’t want to be wrong again.”

He would prove just how serious he was about you in whatever way you wanted. In words. In actions. Or if you wanted him to fuck some sense into you, he’d happily oblige.

Nothing mattered more to him than figuring this out with you. He wasn’t going to let you slip through his fingers a second time. 

“Let me be as clear as possible, I don’t want you to move on from me. Because I still want you,” he murmurs, letting his lips skim up your neck to the shell of your ear, “I never stopped wanting you. So if you want me, baby, you’ve got me.”

“As easy as that?” you ask cautiously, almost disbelievingly.

“As easy as that,” he promises.

“Of course I want you, Bradley,” you breathe, as you settle your hand over his where they are wrapped around you, melting into him, “I didn’t want to get my hopes up, not when I still like you so much.”

“Then I’m yours,” he grins, as he nudges your temple with his nose.

He likes the way your name feels in his mouth, as he kisses your neck and whispers your name against the skin there.

“Bradley,” you whisper. 

“Does it feel like I want to be just friends with you?” he asks, pressing himself more firmly against curve of your ass.

“No,” you moan, as you lean your head back against his shoulder, where it belongs.

“You’ve got me,” he murmurs, as he presses line of kisses along shoulder, “Now show me how you want me, baby.”

Taking his left hand, you guide it up to rest against your chest. He can feel how rapidly your heart is beating under his palm, he thinks his is going just as fast. And with the other, you smooth it down the front of your body until its resting low on your stomach.

You squeeze his hands briefly, letting go of them for long enough for you to unbutton to your jeans, before encouraging his right hand to go lower.

Bradley lets his fingers lightly trail over the top of your panties. He groans, recognizing them by feel alone, “Are these the little blue ones I got you?”

“They’re my favorites.” You tell him as you arch into him, trying to get his fingers to go lower still.

“I’m the only one who gets to see these on you,” he growls as he pulls out his hand to yank down your zipper.

“Yes, only you,” you keen, “There hasn’t been anyone else since you. Only wanted you.”

He feels frenzied now as he shoves your tight jeans down to you knees.

He wants you needy and writhing for him. He wants to feel you wet for him. He wants you to come chanting his name. He imagined taking you so many ways when he was on that carrier, he almost can’t believe he gets to have you this way again.

“You’ve got me.”

It’s a promise. It’s a vow.

He thrusts his denim clad knee between your thighs to hold you open as he slides his fingers back into the pretty light blue panties he bought for you.

You cry out when his fingers connect with your clit. He works you there with deliberately slow circles, satisfied by how wet you already are for him.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he says, resting his forehead against your temple. 

“Me too. Missed you so much,” you murmur as you stroke his forearm, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Bradley.”

He shushes you dropping a kiss to the crown of your head, threading the fingers of his free hand between yours, “It’s all good, baby. We’re good.”

It’s not long before you’re trying to grind against his hand, eager for more than what he is giving you. He wants to draw this out, wants to tease you a little longer.

“Please.”

“Please, what?” he lightly prompts. 

“Bradley, it’s been so long,” your breath hitches when he switches up his movements of his fingers, “Please.”

“I know, baby. I promise I’ll get you there. But you’ve got to wait a little longer,” he croons in your ear, adding a bit more pressure, “Not going to let you come on my fingers when you’re still on a date with another man.”

You whine as he rubs his mustache along your neck, he feels the shiver that courses through your body. Smiling to himself that he is the one who is making you feel good, not anyone else. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says as he tightens the circles he is rubbing on your clit, “You’re going to tell Collins it isn’t going to work out. Then, we are going straight to the Bronco and you can ride my fingers like you did on our second date. And after you come, I’m going to take you home and show you just how much I’ve missed you.” 

The sweet kisses his is placing on your cheek are in stark contrast to his filthy promises. 

“I already did.”

“Say that again,” he demands, slowing down the movement of his fingers. 

“I already ended it,” you repeat with a whine, as your hips roll against him desperate for the release he is withholding from you.  “Told him I wasn’t over my ex. I just want you, Bradley.” 

The zipper of his jeans is almost painful with how hard he is, but he is too absorbed in the feel of you to bother unzipping himself for a little temporary relief. He’d willingly suffer as long as he got to hear your sweet whimpers and sighs at his hands.

He was yours.

“Did you delete that stupid app?” He didn’t consider himself a possessive man, but you made him greedy for more.

“Been a little busy,” you quip breathlessly, as you reach around to palm him through his jeans.

“I want to watch you delete it as you fuck yourself on my cock,” he grunts into your ear.

“Fuck,” you gasp, “Bradley.” Your hand flies up to the back of his neck, nails biting into the skin there.

You are even wetter now beneath his fingers. 

“Tell me you’re mine.” He wanted to hear it.

“I’m yours,” you pant into his neck, licking a stripe up the tendon there, “I’m yours. Now make me come and take me home.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” he promises with a grin as he redoubles his efforts against your clit. 

There’s no teasing in the way he precisely works you. 

He remembers the way you like to be touched. He knows how you’ll sigh when he rubs you up and down. How you whimper when he alternates the circular caresses against your hypersensitive skin. The way you clench when he glides rough figure-eights over your clit.

“I’m so close.” You’re trembling in his arms now.

“What do you need, baby?” he asks, switching his attentions to the diagonal strokes that always gets you there quickly.

“Just you,” you plead into the crook of his neck, “Just you.” 

You take the hand that’s been guiding the motions of your hips against his fingers, and settle it over your breast. Whining as he thumbs at your hardened nipple.

“You’ve got me, I’m yours,” he rasps softly.

And then you’re shuddering in his arms you fly apart for him. Body shaking with the aftershocks he pulls from you as he softly teases you with one gentle fingertip, as he coos sweet praise against the shell of your ear.

Bradley removes his hand from your now thoroughly ruined panties, and you spin around to wrap your arms around his neck. He tightens his hold on you as you come down, letting one hand make soothing circles on your lower back.

After you’ve caught your breath, you pull him down for a kiss. Your tongue languidly sliding against his. He’s missed having your lips on his.

“Can’t believe I got you off on my fingers before I got my mouth back on you,” he mutters against your mouth.

“I liked it,” you smile.

“Good,” he says as he helps you to pull your pants up, “Because we’ve still got a date with the Bronco and my bed tonight.”

You kiss his cheek as he redoes the top button for you.

“How do I look?” you ask as you try to fix your hair and straighten out your top.

You look like you’ve been fucked.

The smirk on his face must give away his thoughts, because you’re lightly hitting him on the chest with a shy smile before turning towards the door.

“Wait a second,” he pauses you with a hand to your wrist, “Your bow.”

You glance over your shoulder at him curiously.

The flimsy strings of your backless top hand managed to come undone. He skims a finger down the exposed skin, like he had been dying to all night, before retying it for you.

“There. You’re perfect,” he says ducking down to kiss your shoulder before opening the door for you.

He was hoping that the coast would be clear for when the made their escape, and instead he sees Nat leaning against the wall at the end of the hall looking entirely too smug for her own good.

“You owe me a favor,” she says pointing at him, before turning that finger on you, “And you, owe me brunch. Preferably with bottomless mimosas. Because I just saved both your asses from getting caught by Penny. And now I owe Jake a favor. So, you owe me big time.” She gives you both a knowing look before walking away.

You bury your face in his chest laughing.

“I’ll make us some reservations for next week,” you call out to her retreating figure, and Nat throws a thumbs up into the air not breaking her stride. And then you’re looking up at him, “Come on, let’s go. Don’t want to be late for our reservations in the Bronco.”

He grins down at you feeling lighter than he has in months as he leads you out of the bar tucked away under his arm.

Just where he wants you to be. 

Just where you’re supposed to be.

We’re saying “Yes to the Ex!”

Thanks for reading! 

You can check my other stories here!

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[mouthpoisons]

on viktor's doomed destiny as the magical harbinger of the apocalypse, sky being a secret mastermind, the butterfly effect, the message within the pattern, the arcane being a sentient manifestation of The Narrative and pushing everyone towards tragedy

so this started out as a halfhearted joke post that went something along the lines of ''maybe sky is such a nothing character because she was always the arcane's y/n x viktor self insert and not just after the hexcore eats her'', then it turned into me spending like a whole day examining sky scenes through this lens and acquiring a massive tin foil hat about it, and then while paying attention to sky i also started viewing the arcane as a whole as something conscious, malignant, the plot of the show itself manipulating and urging everyone, but especially viktor, towards it's end goal of him becoming heimerdinger's world ending mage. and then This post happened. because i was initially writing an analysis on sky, this post is mostly me talking about sky. i started Realising Other Shit about halfway through and i simply wont be rewriting what ive already put down. but the more i think about it and go back and rewatch parts of the show, the more this makes perfect sense and i'll definitely be coming back with a part two. part 2 will likely be about jinx because that ''use your explosive potential and maybe you can change your story'' line from vi, which we can only assume is directed at her sister, is doing cartwheels in my brain

this is massive and long and messy and its going under a readmore. enter if u dare

disclaimer because theres gonna be people who Seriously hate this and might wanna assume things about me because of it but i hope youll understand im coming from a place of pure story and meta analysis. this theory is unfortunately going to assume theres a manipulative ulterior motive to Everything sky says and does, and this is not written in any way to spite people who like sky as simply the sweet doomed lady who has a crush on viktor, skyvik shippers, etc. i honestly just think she is currently the worst written character in the show by miles and that that... cant be it. trying to attach any secret meaning to what she went through and her role in the story beyond ''fridged woman'', i promise, is out of love, despite what im about to spend a billion words accusing her of. i deeply want her ass to secretly be part of the craziest reveal in the show.

if anything im about to say stays one of the most crackpot theories about the show ever written, then i will firmly be a member of the ''she deserved better'' camp, in which you can all beat me with hammers if you want. anyway lets get right into it.

i think sky has been some kind of arcane manifestation who scouted out, has been keeping an eye on, and has urging viktor along the path he's been on the entire show, and not just after the hexcore ''killed'' her. i believe she is essentially another herald who foreshadows some of viktor's major character developmental moments, that she is the butterfly effect, that the arcane is a conscious character and she is one of the vessels it uses to manipulate the show's story towards it's end goal, which very much seems to be setting up viktor as a world ender. i also believe that she may have had one major instance of manipulating the trajectory of jayce's story in service of this

before i continue i need you to know i tried to pull up a wiki page about her just now incase theres any Extra Lore that hasnt appeared in the show and apparently all anyone could be bothered to write down for her is ''Viktor's assistant with an unrequited admiration for the scientist.'' lmfao. if there Is any missing lore, behind the scenes stuff, etc, id love to hear it, whether it supports or contradicts any of this.

ok then, whatever, what do i remember about sky. shes from zaun, shes viktors assistant, they knew eachother or at least met that one time when they were children, she's been doing her own private research, and she has a massive crush on/admiration for him. viktor doesnt pay her too much attention until she ''dies'' and then he is consumed by guilt surrounding her death. sky also has a pattern of becoming more and more ''relevant'' to viktor as the show goes on, and a lot of people have criticised this as a form of reconning her fridging, and yeah if all of this is bullshit then it might be, but if not, wow. i also vaguely remember hearing something about amanda overton being very proud of sky's character which... right now? youre kidding me. if literally any of this is true? holy shit, i get it.

as a last bit of additional context; this theory was also super inspired the other theory that the corrupted spot heimerdinger noticed at the base of the hexgate is where some of viktor's blood fell as he... divinely received the idea to build the hexcore? (that's going to be such a fucking facepalm moment for all of us in retrospect if im onto something here lol). it's one of the things that really got me thinking. he shouldn't have been in any way magical at that point. my theory is in essence a massive continuation of the idea that arcane forces have been having an effect on viktor for longer than we realise.

i'll pitch this theory primarily through some scene analysis, and mostly from season 1 since everyone else has ''wait is she being Bad here'' season 2 sky analysis on lock, most of us agree she's being strange and ominous after her ''death''. i might be the first insane person on earth to pitch that she's also being strange and weird Before her ''death''

i'll start with what might be one of my personal smokiest of guns and biggest Insane In Retrospect Moments, which has a lot of the core thematic stuff shoved into it and laid out quite plainly, then im just gonna go wherever the flow takes me. im not an essay guy. this will be messy and im sorry in advance.

in this scene, viktor is messing around with the hexcore. sky is watching behind him, and remarks that it's beautiful. viktor expresses his frustration at not being able to figure out the device, sky responds ''you will'', asks to walk him home with her, and he declines, saying that he's going to keep working on it through the night. sky doubles down, asking ''again? yknow there's always tomorrow, right?''. he dismisses her and she leaves. pretty much immediately, viktor passes out coughing up blood, which merges with the hexcore.

viktor has been established as a wildcard and a risk taker who doesnt like unnecessary stalling and delays. at this point in the show his health is starting to take a heavy toll on him. jayce has recently hit the pause button on releasing their new hextech tools (more on that in a bit). he's incredibly frustrated with the overall situation and is in tunnel vision mode. my theory is that sky very purposefully asked him to take his time, to give it a rest, knowing that he would do the opposite. this is an example of some potential reverse psychology sky demonstrates a couple times during the show. the other one is a very prominent scene in s2e6 that also got me Thinking about all this, the part where she says to viktor ''you once told me, all systems have limits'', and he responds by asserting vander is worth the risk. course vander's continued presence in the camp as viktor tries to heal him kickstarts the rest of the horribleness that happens that episode, which in the end makes viktor ''understand'' the futility of the human condition, and perhaps if he hadnt just gotten shot by jayce, wouldve been the moment he becomes the apocalypse wizard.

in this s1 scene though... she didnt really have to flex it here. the purpose this specific example would theoretically serve would be to piss off the audience upon rewatch, because we all thought she was just flirting lol

her assuring him that he will figure it out, and then a massive advancement happening instantly, is crazy. it's as if she knew what was going to happen, as if she heralded it into being. this is also her first speaking scene in the show which feels significant especially when it comes to retrospect potential

next i wanna talk about the scene where she may have, in a such a blink-it-and-youll-miss way, manipulated jayce's trajectory. this is also her first appearance in the show period

before jayces progress day speech, he asks viktor to come onto the stage with him, ''we're partners'', and sky adjusts her glasses while looking in on in the background. viktor declines, anxious about the idea of being on stage, and sky hands jayce his script.

jayce confidently reads from the script for a bit, but then changes his mind about what he wants to say, and this is when he hits the brakes on unveiling the new hextech devices, suddenly disappointing both viktor and mel, who he sought out for advice on the matter just a couple of scenes prior. his mind is assumedly comfortably made up about this. hell, enough to write a script, set up a presentation, and for mel and viktor to also be confident about how the presentation will go. the decision was extremely on-the-spot; it's a very awkward moment as jayce freezes mid sentence, we get several shots of the hexgem behind him, strange noises start chiming in the background (which do sound a lot like the mic feedback that's also going in that scene, but these ones seem.. different? certainly deliberately placed), and he suddenly decides against the tech demo. the shots of the hexgem behind jayce have the potential to be ominous as fuck in hindsight. certainly ominous enough to snap me out of simply writing a theory about sky, to thinking about the arcane's influence on the characters and plot as a whole.

this is a possible example of sky, as some kind of arcane avatar, manipulating the plot, with the goal of creating tension between jayce and viktor, and frustrating viktor with the stalling of their technology. after the progress day speech, jayce remains a lot more safety-cautious, and is given his councillor positon, which furthers the rift between them. viktor states all of this in their brief argument in the scene at the hexgate, before he coughs up blood over the railing and has his vision of the hexcore. within the context of this theory, it really feels like the arcane kind of saying to itself, ''all according to plan, he's ready for the next big thing.''

this now. on a personal I Was A Disabled Loner Kid Too Once level this scene has always bugged me and i never quite understood why most people seem to take it as ''aw their first bonding moment''

viktor cant play with the other kids because of his disability, so he hangs out on his own and builds toys. sky comes over, literally looks down on him from a cliff, seems very curious about what he's doing but only briefly, and is called away by her friends, leaving with a smile, as quickly as she arrived. she... acknowledges him, but that's about it. this scene is significant to my theory in that she appears, does her little bit, and then viktor meets singed, who shows actual sustained interest in him and his toy boat, and lets him hang out so they can ''be loners together''. this is a seed planting moment in so many ways and it even threatens to come full circle next week if singed is going to revive viktor again. this very well may well have been when the arcane, through sky, ''chose'' viktor, or at least decided that his story is to be put into motion now, and set him on the path. he literally gets up and starts following his boat down a river.

i'm also pointing out the butterflies in this and jayce's flashback scenes. i dont have much to say about them that a lot of other people havent already especially since butterflies and insect imagery started popping up Everywhere for jayvik in season 2, but yeah *vague hand wave* im pointing them out.

pausing scene analysis for a moment to talk about the idea of viktor really being The Center Of All Of This, as caitlyn said in the act 3 trailer, before i go onto the next bit.

viktor, for this whole show, has been so unbelievably doomed, and it's ramped up to the nth degree in season 2. he's felt especially at the mercy of outside forces to the point where me and everyone else are starting to get real tired of the lack of agency the story is affording him. he becomes terminally ill, he rages against the dying of the light for a bit, but then shit gets scary and he makes jayce promise to destroy the hexcore (and let him die), he gets jinx nuked, jayce revives him explicitly against his wishes, comes back from time prison and kills him again, its a mess. its infuriating. i think that viktor's entrapment by the narrative, and everything becoming more hopeless and out of his hands, is going to be extremely important in act 3. that him giving the biggest Fuck You to his arcane destiny and tearing away from the narrative with claws and teeth is going to be the moment he becomes our machine herald.

i wrote a much shorter post about this earlier, but since then i've also become confident that the bad ending apocalypse wizard viktor himself is who sends jayce back to destroy the hexcore, effectively breaking the cycle and thrusting viktor's story into uncharted waters, which he will Gloriously Evolve above, but only after singed puts him through hell and fills him with resentment for jayce.

ok back to scene analysis

viktor has already come close to breaking free of his predetermined path before. in the context of this theory, viktor's beautiful hopeful triumphant moment, seemingly having a massive breakthrough in rising above his fate and body, outrunning the boat, being immediately cut short by sky showing up and dying and throwing him into a pit of guilt, despair, and desperate need to atone, is in no way accidental. im about to spill whats probably going to be this post's most egregious sky character assassination so be warned i guess!!!!

to put it very bluntly, heres how this whole scene goes according to my theory. viktor gears up to transmutate himself again, but because he's doing so while so full of hope, in a way that's threatening to break him out of his doomed narrative, maybe even just the fact he's doing it to himself instead of jayce doing it in a frantic attempt to save him from death, sky steps in. viktor must die, physically, emotionally, before he becomes the magician.

sky takes the drastic measure of ''killing herself'' in order to curse viktor with the crushing guilt that would morph him into someone who desperately needs to pay for what he did. fix the world, no longer as a driven idealistic scientist, but all consumingly, obsessively, and devastatingly.

if sky didn't intervene, viktor presumably still would've become some form of magical purple guy, but it wouldve been... the best possible timeline? a timeline completely untainted by death? like imagine the cocoon emergence scene and that conversation with jayce but a version where he's not absolutely destroyed by guilt surrounding sky. he was so, so close to just outright winning the game.

as sky's walking down the hall thinking about how she's going to pitch her ''private project'' to viktor, she says something that's potentially a massive red flag hidden in plain sight. she says that she's been working on it for weeks, then changes her mind and says she's been working on it for a year. that's... a huge time difference? if it was months vs a year it would sound much more organic, but weeks vs a year? of course in the real life ''everything im saying here is bullshit'' world she's just figuring out how to pitch herself and sound impressive, but whichever way you look at it and no matter her intent, she was preparing to lie to viktor here.

back in my delusional mind palace, i think viktor's full transmutation attempt takes her (the arcane/the narrative) by surprise - she was formulating her next move here, but it becomes her having to throw a spanner in the works immediately in order to keep him on the path of despair, of death and guilt.

so sky's a pile of ash now. sky is a pile of ash. she wasn't absorbed by the hexcore, on the contrary it looks to be actively pushed away from it (metaphorical skin shedding?) something else is happening for her to be manifesting herself to viktor in season 2. there's also that extremely ominous freezeframe of her when viktor picks up her glasses, but i cant for the life of me get a screenshot of it.

viktor picks up and starts reading sky's journal, and i'll be honest i cant really find any hidden message in her words there apart from the idea that this wide eyed, sweet, idealistic girl that viktor has just let down drastically is some kind of persona. it does stick out to me how much sky seems to envoke a younger viktor - someone who's stuck in an assistant role when she has her own big dreams. This tragic reveal that this cute but inconsequential background character had an inner life and goals too… it's a shock! And it’s all very personal. He paid her barely and mind and now she’s dead because of him, this poor girl who was inspired, by him, to change the world, just like him. It’s like. It’s so tailor made to make him feel like shit.

the next thing that happens is viktor gets Big Mad and tries to smash the hexcore, but it goes ''nuh huh!'' and makes him fall over in a show of power over him. he's firmly stuck in this narrative now, and he wont be breaking out again for a while. the mask is off and his story is locked. he will die, one way or another, and come back to destroy the world.

viktor cant break himself out of the narrative anymore, it has him by the neck and it makes sure he knows it, but someone else promises to.

and he cant, initially. it takes betrayal through reviving him with the hexcore (exactly what it wants). it takes a guilt-ridden viktor being overtly guided along by a much more suspicious sky, for him to get so in his head about this cult shit that it approaches the event horizon of becoming all consuming, it takes jayce being trapped in a time loop desperately trying to find any possible way around this. but the destruction of the hexcore, the narrative, sky, the destruction of the arcane within viktor is the only way for him to truly gloriously evolve.

jayces love for viktor was dooming him into becoming the arcane that ends the world, and the only way to chart a new course was by truly saving him. destroying the hexcore, sky, freeing him from the narrative, at the ultimate cost of viktor's love for him.

[darylbrainrot]

CHAPTER 01: WIP

AIYGIWGWY || GOJO X READER

How would you—a part time guitarist and streamer, react when an upcoming streamer known as gojo admitted to liking your music and streams?

As he sat down on his chair with it dipping with his added weight, he reached to his PC to start it up. He was about 20 minutes early to stream so he had to get his streaming apps ready. He wanted to keep this stream chill, he was probably some background music playing to make his stream calming (as calming as possible with his screams from playing fortnite.) As he made the sudden decision to play music on his stream, he opened Spotify as soon as his computer turned on.

He opened one of his designated playlists for streaming, some relaxing music ranging from different artists. He made sure this playlist wasn't going to get him flagged on his Twitch, something he didn't want to happen again.

He finally had his necessities opened, his discord and Spotify opened on his first monitor, his Twitch ready to stream on his third monitor, and finally his main monitor with his game loading up. When he looked at the time, he had around 6 minutes to spare before starting up his stream. With his extra time, he decided to go out of his room to his shared dorm with suguru to grab some snacks.

As he made his way to the shared kitchen, he just decided to grab a Gatorade and some random candies he had stored for when he was craving them. As he was going to retreat back to his room, he heard his fellow roommate's door open.

"Suguru, you should join my stream please." He said, dragging out the please for dramatic effect.

"Hell nah, ima go to sleep anyway." The black-haired man says with a blank stare, passing Satoru as he makes a b line towards the restroom.

"What the flip man." Sighing as he made it back to his room to start up his stream.

—————————

"BROO, no fucking way he got me. He literally only got me for 50 shield." He said, falling back in his chair as his 2nd place ranking got displayed on his screen. His hands now going through his face, raking through his white hair. The soft melodies of 'Cologne' by Beabadoobee fill the stream when he is quiet. The song finished up when one of your songs replaced the quietness, it was a cover you made of 'Paul' by Big Theif.

This is when his chat started flooding with new messages, ranging from questions asking him if he liked your music to how long he's been listening to you. As his arms finally fell from his hair, he looked at his chat when he saw the flood of new texts.

"I didn't know you listened to y/n's music... of course, I listen to their music, she's like one of my favorite artists." He said after reading some questions in his chat. Snickering at his chats surprised reaction, "I'm surprised some of you guys didn't know this, I follow them on twitter and on insta and I know some of you guys stalk my following and shit" He said as he was going back to the home screen of his game, deciding that it was enough of fortnite for him after playing around 10 rounds.

“Have you seen shes working on a new song? She posted about it on her twitter” he mumbled, reading one of the texts that caught his eye. “Yeah I saw her post, hopefully she posts a clip of her song. I know it’s gonna be good though.” He grins, exited that one of his favorite artist might release a song soon.

"Anyways, ima stopping the stream here, I'm done with fortnite for today. I might stream again in the weekend though, I'll tweet about it if I do." Waving at his face cam as he ended the stream, making sure to double-check it was off. He closed off any extra tabs he had open before shutting down his PC. Once he was finally done with his computer, he stood up and went to scroll on his phone on his bed, finally relieving the ache in his back due to his bad posture.

< prev || masterlist || next >

Interact with this post to be a part of my taglist.

this isnt proof read so lmk if theres any mistakes D:

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

TAGLIST: OPEN

@bakananya, @lysaray, @reagan707, @cccccccccccleo, @samutoru, @sunaluvrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, @sur-i-ki, @rybunnie, @ramchu,

[maxwell-grant]

The Penguin Ep3 - "Bliss" Breakdown

oh

(Episode 1) (Episode 2) (Episode 4) (Episode 5) (Episode 6) (Episode 7) (Episode 8)

So that's what Victor's image in the credits was meant to represent the whole time. A still of him inside the last memory he has of his home, his perspective on the window before it all went to shit.

I get that it might have been obvious the opening was a flashback given the election was still ongoing and given we get to see Vic's friend, the one who was shot by Sofia, still alive, but they also peppered enough bits that hade me fully convinced we were just watching Victor's present life when he was out of earshot from Oz. The bombs were a genuine shocker.

Credit to @davidmann95 for pointing out that the rooftop pebbles are Victor's equivalent of the Crime Alley pearls, an extremely important detail to add to the other Batman parallels Victor's gonna be shown having in this episode.

I'm loving a lot of the choices that go into Oz's outfits and specifically what kind of outfits he wears around specific characters, the whole chameleon thing he's got going personality-wise reflective in his choice of wear, and I like how this extends to the people around him and his choice of vehicle and base and everything. He may not wear fine suits everywhere and for all occasions, but this is very much a Penguin concerned about fashion particularities and branding and ways to dress up himself and the people acting in his behalf.

This scene where Oz pays Victor is funny, but it importantly sets up an element that's gonna come into play regarding their relationship by the end of the episode, that is how hard Oz projects on Victor and how much of his insecurity and need for affection comes through in his attempts to deal with the kid. Two episodes in after all the shit Victor's done for Oz and it's the first time we're seeing Oz talk about giving him a salary. It's not an unusual comedy beat, sadly not a real life one either, but the thing is, Oz is not a cheapskate, far from it. Across the last two episodes, he's been very quick to fork over cash to smooth over negotiations, and he's more than happy to pay the kid and praise him for demanding double (even if he shuts down the idea), it just genuinely never occurred to him until the moment that, right, the kid whose job is driving me around and burying bodies and putting his neck on the line for me needs a paycheck, of course, he's gonna get a nice thousand per week because I'm a good boss who does that kind of thing.

Nice little reminder of the class disparity element of the show, in how Sofia looks at Oz's set-up and dismisses as tacky garbage, while Graciela calls it bougie and thinks Victor's basically set if his boss is letting him crash in a place like that. Also illustrated in the money scene earlier, because from what I've researched, a thousand per week is an average salary for a driver in New Jersey (which is where this Gotham is located), and despite Oz calling it a start, Victor's already shocked at how much money Oz is paying per week. Just these totally different conceptions of what money and good living entail across the board for our characters. SPEAKING OF totally different standards,

So it turns out that Sofia has been planning her own meteoric ascension into ruler of Gotham for about as long as Oz, and more effectively at that, and if there's anything this episode will establish for sure about her, it's that Sofia Falcone is an actual supervillain the way Oz is still some ways from being. Alberto's shipment wasn't the ticket for the two of them, just for Oz, and Sofia just needed him to drive her around and open the door once more.

Oz the whole time basically happy with running a club and pushing dope out of a warehouse to the point of crying to her in the end that it was the best thing that ever happened to him, while Sofia here casually unveils a Gus Fring hidden meth lab with a mushroom forest full of Arkham Super Drugs and another Batman Villain working out in the backroom to produce them. Oz spent the last years ass kissing and spinning plates and seizing his own little levers of power all over Gotham, while Sofia was enduring soul-redefining torment entrenched inside the Supervillain Factory of the world where she would discover and pillage the tool that would let her conquer the city in one swoop.

A tool that she debuts before the underworld with an intimidating yet casual speech, above the city writhing before her and falling by the minute into her grasp, before casually leaving and telling her grunt to wrap up negotiations for her. The Riddler showed Gotham what a supervillain is and can do, a call to the maladjusted victims and freaks everywhere to grab their masks and bombs and get in the action because this is how the world works now that Batman exists, but Sofia here shows us not just a different way the rot spreads across the city, not just a way in which Arkham can become the other force filling in the power vacuum, but that being a supervillain is also a business model every respectable criminal in the city is gonna have to get on board with real fucking quick.

I love/hate that we get to have a few scenes of Sofia and Oz working together and how good they are, glad they could at least give us those before everything gets turbofucked forever further.

I definitely encourage you to keep up with the Penguin podcast, and particularly the latest episode where they talk with Rhenzy Feliz and fluency consultant Marc Winski, where they go over the thought and care that went into depicting Victor's stutter and incorporating it into the character and show, it's a very insightful conversation.

Oz's empathy for people with disabilities shows up in him complaining at the waiter for speaking over Victor, and later in their scene with Johnny Viti when he berates him for calling her a psycho, and is consistent with lots of other little moments where it's come up. I like that this is a consistent thing with Oz, and not just one of the things he does for show - even when he's complaining about Sofia to Victor, he never disparages her based on mental illness, he calls her uptight and elusive and a problem he wants off his back, but he never insults her the way all the other mobsters do.

Even in the bathroom scene by the end of the episode, where he does lose his patience and rushes Victor to explain himself, only happens after they've reached a boiling point. I do think it's important, for his character and role, that Oz maintains some important principles, even if they are still self-serving.

Again, love how the show knows just when to drop the Penguin name to maximize hurt on Oz.

What a fucking show Farrell and Miloti and Feliz give us in this episode.

I said back when the trailers dropped that Sofia Falcone looked like she was going to be the prestige crime drama protagonist that this show would have if it wasn't about The Penguin, and that's the vibe you get out of these two together. She is the tormented HBO leading lady and he is the charismatic side character, he is her driver with a wacky voice and face that bites it tragically to motivate her revenge / bites it after the reveal of how he backstabbed her. Which is exactly where the Falcones liked him, that funny guy in a supporting role who drives them around and runs their club and digs up their graves, and it's partially how their last scene in the episode plays out.

"Yeah I know I ruined your entire life and led to irreparable damage to your mind and sanity and reputation and all that, but I really wanted a little piece of the action as a nightclub owner, is that so bad?" is a confession that Oz only survives because he's the main character. In any other show, him bearing the depths of his embarassing pathetic soul to Sofia like that would be the last thing he does before dying, tragically or cathartically.

But to his credit, it worked. Sofia actually sheds a tear for him. It's the first time Oz has seemed genuinely honest with her, and more importantly, it's the first time anyone has been honest with Sofia ever since she got back from Arkham. She really has no one else she can possibly trust but the least trustworthy person on the planet. Who on Earth could possibly be willing to make an ass of themselves before her like that if they weren't being truthful?

Lauren LeFranc: You know, I think Oz is a bit of a walking contradiction and I think he deeply believes what he believes in that moment. I think he genuinely feels that way. Also understands the benefit of her being on his side at the same time. Right? Like, if she doesn't believe in him, their operation currently goes to hell. Not to say that he's playing that up, I think that is a moment of genuine emotion from him. But I also think for a man like him, he's not quite sure where it begins and ends. He doesn't believe that it's bullshit. That doesn't mean that it's not. Like, I don't know if he can even identify it or if, honestly, if Oz takes the time to unpack that. He's not a guy who's like, "Hmm, let me think about my actions today.", you know? - The Penguin Podcast: Episode 3

I'm extremely curious as to what the Sofia-Oz dynamic is gonna look like in the rearview. Does he have enough of a lid on his temper to fake that masterfully being offended on Sofia's behalf while playing her attack dog? Does he genuinely regret that she got sent to Arkham over whatever he did? I think this and the ending scene go a long way in pending towards either way and that's interesting to me. Even if 90% of what he says is bullshit there's some of that regret / kinship that feels genuine

I am very curious to see what becomes of Eve and what more will we learn about her. She seems to be Oz's second-in-command when it comes to businesses he does with her and the girls, and I like that the girls and Victor form a personal squad for Oz (and crucially, he's promising all of them a bigger slice of the pie when he becomes a big shot, and just as crucially, all of them have massive targets on their back right now).

It is genuinely funny how appalled and offended Oz is, at the idea that maybe the kid he roped into this with a gun to the head only stuck around out of fear, not because the kid thinks he's a great guy giving him a chance. I call him the Michael Scott of crime and I mean it. But like most funny things about the Penguin it also has something sad and lonely and pathetic and human about it, the ever present disconnect between the gentleman he wants to be and the thug he acts like.

Like with the salary thing, it just did not cross his head at any moment prior to this, not when he threatened to kill the people he cared about or openly argued with Vic whether to shoot him and stuff him in a trunk, not when threatening to gut him like a fish for messing up or spilling his secrets or telling him to lie with corpses, that Vic was sincerely scared of him and his power and did not leave because he feared this known gangster would do exactly what he said he was going to do. To Oz, doing those things to "his guy" now would be unthinkable, but the question that Vic wanted to leave never even popped in his mind.

And it makes him genuinely upset. That scene at the bar, where he is fully alone, sad and tired with his drink, tired from all the plates he's had to spin and all the indignities he's endured and still endures, tired from all the hats he's had to wear, and sad because the only person so far he's been able to let down his guard around, the one person with whom he could at least wear a hat he liked just bailed on him.

Of course he'd never kill Vic for just wanting to leave, once he realizes that this is actually a factor in how Victor views him and obviously he'd be a bad boss if he did that. Of course he gets angry at Victor for wanting to throw away an opportunity given to him that Oz would have (and probably has) killed for, he's giving Victor the kind of help he desperately wishes he got and he's gonna throw it away? Of course he gets shocked at being reminded Victor is a guy with needs, a guy that Oz holds lethal power over, and not just a kid version of Oz that he can live out his Rex Calabrese fantasy by helping out and mentoring. And of course, none of the cruel and hurtful things he says to Victor before he leaves would sting if there wasn't just enough of a bitter truth to them, or at least, enough of it to stick with Victor.

What an excellent scene Victor's panic attack was, totally get why it was the editor's favorite

I was waiting for a Victor-centric episode and was not dissappointed, this is the episode where he first comes on his own as a character and we see how crucially important he is to the show, the from-the-bottom ground floor perspective on everything that Reeves and LeFranc have repeteadly defined the project around. I love getting to see such an on-the-ground perspective of how fucking monstrous Riddler's plan was, and the kind of lives it ruined. This poor kid thrust headfirst into a Batman/Robin origin story and situation.

It's like Feliz said in the podcast, the end of the episode is the first time we've ever seen Victor, and maybe the first time Victor's ever seen himself, outside of survival mode, outside of simply living to try and get to next hour and do what his parents/Oz tell him to, which is a painfully real state to be in for anyone who's dealt with poverty growing up or is dealing with poverty right now. It's the first time he really has an opportunity to decide on his own what he's going to do on his own. As much as we may know he's making a doomed choice, that he really should just hop on the first bus out of Gotham and join his girlfriend in the sun, well, he's a Batman character, he doesn't get to do that.

Victor wants to live his life and protect himself and the people he loves and make good choices and be a good person, but on a deep fundamental level, he just wants his family back, he wants his dad back, he wants to do right by them more so than by himself, even if that means doing things they would find detestable. Like the son of a doctor, a son who now chooses to inflict violence every night if it means he can avenge their memory, here we have the son of a nurse presented with a choice: He gets to honor the intentions of his parents by dying as a well-meaning decent nobody like they did, or he gets to make up for the shame of how they died by living a good life, one which was denied to them, by surviving and thriving as a criminal. He gets to honor their ideals, or get back at the shameful cruel reality of how they died, but he cannot do both. So he makes his choice.

Oz, in this episode, burns nearly every single bridge he has: with the Falcone family, with the Maronis, and with Sofia, and he even does it with Victor. If Victor hadn't come back, Oz would have died on that parking lot, and still Oz is ecstatic that his guy's come back, because all he wants is for someone to like him enough to stick around with him. Victor is not so sure he's not in for a horrible time now, but in his own way, he also burned his bridges, and he also got what he wanted.

Okay Vic, you wanted dad to not take shit from others and shoot for a better life, you got a dad who will teach you to do just that. You wanted to pal around with small-time criminals you were friends with even if your parents insisted otherwise, well, the king of hoodlums is the only guy you have left in your life now.

You have committed yourself body and soul to a dangerous life within the city you love, spurred on by the tragic injustice that took your parents in an event that destroyed your entire world? Great, welcome to Gotham, here's even a new name you get out of it.

[ladykailitha]

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 14

Hey, guys just a couple chapters left. The story is done. I kind skip over the Mind Flayer bit and get back to the heart of the story, Eddie and Steve.

It will be some time before I start the last one. The lack of interest for this one made it hard to finish and as you're aware I don't really like having to rely on canon so much. And the last one will have to feature it in someway. But we'll see.

In this we get Eddie calling in the cavalry, Steve and Robin are captured and Steve plays hero.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

~

To say Eddie was worried would be an understatement. He had gone to the mall to pick Steve up from work and he wasn’t there.

But he knew about the Russian message and he knew that there was one thing Steve couldn’t stand and that’s was letting a literal child rush headlong into danger, not if he could help it.

So he started looking around. There were bound to be clues. And sure enough, the ladder had been moved and vent wasn’t properly screwed on anymore. But there was no way that any of the three Musketeers would fit through that space and he shuddered to think what or who they would have gotten to go down that tunnel.

He put his hand on his hip and scratched his chin. Then he snapped his fingers. There was nothing for it. He was going to have to call in the cavalry and by cavalry he meant Uncle Wayne.

Eddie went to a payphone and pulled out a quarter. He dialed home.

“‘Ello,” Wayne greeted gruffly. “Wayne speaking.”

“Uncle Wayne!” he cried. “I’m at the mall and I can’t find Steve. His car is still here, but I can’t find him. Which his car being here is weird as I was supposed to pick him up.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Wayne said, nice and low, “This is about those comics, ain’t it?”

Eddie straightened his spine. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t be playing games with me, boy,” Wayne growled. “If your boy is trouble I need to know everything.”

“Meet me on the north side of the mall and I’ll tell you what I know,” Eddie whispered, looking over his shoulder. “I don’t want to say much over the phone.”

Again there was a beat then, “I’m on my way.”

~

The arguing was starting to mess with Steve’s head. In that he meant it was going to give him a migraine and then he was going to murder them. Particularly since he didn’t have his medication with him.

Because they were trapped in a fucking elevator underneath the mall and no way out or back up.

“Shut up!” he huffed. “I don’t care about Tina or Uncle Jack’s party, mmk?” He cocked his head forward for emphasis. “Look if we don’t find a way out of here, there wouldn’t be any parties or shit, because we’d all be dead. No one is looking for us, because they don’t know where we are.”

Erica popped her hip and placed her hand on it. “Maybe no one is looking for you. But my parents are absolutely looking for me.”

Steve covered his face with his hands. “Not what I meant! I mean no one is going to look for a secret Russian base under the mall because that’s fucking insane!”

Time went on and it was looking less and less likely they’d find a way out even with Dustin constantly trying to use his little communicator to reach out to anyone who could help when Robin heard someone coming.

They all ducked behind the crates when Steve got a bright idea. Taking Erica’s vial of green glowing liquid, he leapt into action.

As the elevator door closed, he stuck the vial between the floor and the door, effectively stopping its descent. He signaled to Dustin and Erica to get out first and then Robin. He rolled under the door just the vial’s strength gave out.

It shattered, its contents spewing all over the floor. Then to their horror it began to eat away at the floor and the door.

“Shit!” Dustin swore and Steve agreed. He barely missed rolling into the stuff and really didn’t want to know what it did to flesh if it did that to fucking metal.

They looked around but the only way to go was further into the base.

“Out of the frying pan,” Robin said with her hands on her hips, “and into the fire.”

Steve sighed and walked toward the long hallway, the other three following close behind.

~

Eddie paced in front of the movie theater. He was really worried about Steve now. He had asked a couple of the other people in the food court if they had seen anything, but the only thing they mentioned was that they closed early.

He wished not for the first time that Steve had thought to call him. But he knew why he didn’t. There were several reason that came to his head. That Dustin was super pushy about it and Steve wasn’t allowed the time to call. That Steve didn’t want him involved in whatever the hell this mess was. Which fair, but a head’s up would have been nice.

A beat up pickup pulled to a stop in front of him and he nearly sagged with relief. Uncle Wayne would know what to do.

Wayne was out of his truck and gathering Eddie up in his arms before his lip could even wobble.

Eddie told him everything Steve had said about weird shit in Hawkins and how everything was tied to that lab. He had been slowly prying it out of Steve over the last month whenever they were alone.

“We’ll find him,” Wayne said fiercely. “So he’s car’s here, which means it’s probably been left here overnight. Whatever happened, didn’t happen today. Which isn’t good. Who might he have gone to?”

Eddie frowned. “I’m pretty sure Dustin is already with him, and probably his co-worker, Robin Buckley.” He thought about the comic with the dire wolves. “Lucas Sinclair and Max Mayfield.”

“Ed,” Wayne said slowly, “those are children you just named.”

“Uh...” Eddie said, wrinkling his brow in concentration. “I know there are a couple of actual adults involved, but I don’t know who. I mean, I’d guess Mrs. Byers because her son is in the middle of all this shit, but...” he just shrugged.

Wayne rubbed his eyebrow in frustration. These were children, Steve included. He didn’t care if the boy just turned eighteen, Steve was only sixteen when all this shit started. None of them should have been anywhere near this shit.

“Hopper!” Eddie cried, snapping his fingers. “Steve said the police chef knew about the goings on here in Hawkins.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Wayne muttered darkly.

Secretly Eddie agreed. He was usually all about down with the man and conspiracies and all that shit, but the chief of police knowing that things are fucked up and not doing more to protect this town from whatever the hell this all was? Yeah, fuck that guy in particular.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Wayne said firmly. “I’m going to go the police station and hunt Hopper down, see if he knows about anything under the mall. You are going to stay here, keep an eye out for him at the mall. Since his car is still here, he’s got to be somewhere on the property.”

Eddie nodded, pursing his lips together and rocking back on his heels.

“Good,” Wayne groused. “I’ve got a pair of walkies in the cab of my truck, we’ll keep in contact that way, okay?”

Eddie heaved a sigh of relief. That made it easy to know where each other was at all times. He took the walkie talkie from Wayne and headed back into the mall.

He knew that Steve wouldn’t be in the food court, wherever he had gone, was away from the ice cream shop.

So he setup his vigil on one of the benches half way between the food court and the theater so that he could keep an eye on the two busiest locations.

He pulled out his little notebook to make it look like he was drawing or whatever to not arouse suspicion and settled in for a long wait.

~

Steve was fucking terrified. He wanted to run back to Forest Hills and crawl into Eddie’s bed and never come out of it ever again. They were only supposed to find out what the Russians were up to so that they could report it to their ‘friends’ at the DOE and be lauded as heroes instead of heaps of NDAs and admonishments to keep their mouths shut.

But now they were walking into something they didn’t even fucking know how to get out of. No one knew where they were. Or even where to start looking. Dustin had almost used up all the battery on his little communicator trying to get into contact with their friends and no one had answered.

And then he saw it.

It was a good thing he hadn’t eaten in who knows how long because he absolutely would have lost it.

“What the hell is that?” Erica said, reeling back in disgust.

“Dustin,” Steve implored. “Please tell me that isn’t what it looks like.”

Dustin grabbed his hand. “Uh...nope. It’s exactly what it looks like.”

They had reached a room where there were a lot of scientists running around, calling out in Russian and making notes on clipboards. In the center of the room was a red pulsating mass.

They ducked behind some boxes and Steve bit back a whimper.

“Is it open?” Steve asked Dustin.

Dustin peeked over the boxes and then ducked back down. “No. Not yet. But I bet that’s what the green goo is for.”

“Shit,” Steve hissed. “Of course they’re trying to open a Gate. What else would Russians want with Hawkins?”

Dustin looked devastated, because Steve was right. There was only one thing a foreign government would want in their fucked up little town. The Upside Down.

They managed to sneak around the scientists and found themselves in a control room. A mostly empty control with a single guard.

Steve plan was stupid. But it was all they had.

And it ended better than he thought it would if he was honest with himself. Robin and he had been captured while Erica and Dustin had gotten away.

They kept asking him over and over who they were and who they worked for. Steve did everything he could to keep the attention on him. Robin didn’t know anything. She didn’t know anything about Gates and monsters, and alternative dimensions. He kept repeating the truth over and over again.

“Steve Harrington, I work at Scoops Ahoy!” he chanted, his voice slurring after the fifth strike to the side of his face.

Again and again they didn’t believe him.

Then they took him away and the beating intensified. He was crying now and he didn’t care. He just wanted to have a barbecue with his boyfriend and his uncle. His parents had called him again to say that they wouldn’t be home. He hoped and feared that Eddie and Wayne were looking for him.

Then his world went black.

~

I'm not going to show Steve being tortured. This story isn't about that. It's not even really about season 3. It's about Steve and Eddie.

Part 15 Part 16

Tag List: FIVE SLOTS REMAINING

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @blondie1006

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @angels-of-hades

7- @mugloversonly @y4r3luv @greeniebean911 @birbsauce @acingthecounts

8- @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @ravenfrog @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts

9- @clockworkballerina @bluelightsinthevoid @blcksh33p1987 @i-go-pink-in-the-night @mamafaithful

[lanormie]

blipped - mcu crossover au (pt. 3)

you're forced to navigate the aftermath of The Blip, where half of the population get thrown back into existence after disappearing for five years. pairing: pro-hero!Shouto x f!pro-hero!reader (ft. slight katsuki x reader) read on AO3 previous part

*cw: grief, loss, survivor's guilt

Despite the reappearance of billions of people, the resurgence still turned out to be a mass casualty event. Cases of missing persons are still in the millions as communication and transportation break down, while cases of confirmed death keep ticking up by the second. It couldn’t be avoided that some people got blipped back into extremely dangerous conditions, whether it’s a highway, on a flight above a remote region, in the middle of a demolition, or in extreme weathers. 

The domino effect only took things further. The newscaster was reporting about a case where a person blipped back into a bus driver seat which made the driver swerve into a crowd of people when Rei decided it was enough and turned the TV off. She’s herded you to the kitchen for lunch and let the calming music from the record player fill the room instead, and you’re thankful for it.

It’s Fuyumi’s day off but she’s headed for the school anyway. “They’d need as much help as possible”, she said, citing some of the teachers not being able to make it today. The trains haven’t been able to keep up with the sudden surge in demand and are heavily backed up. On top of that, a few lines haven’t been back to operation due to several incidents that had happened on some of the tracks. Roads are either closed or witnessing traffic stand-stills as more and more people opt to abandon their cars. 

Shouto insisted you stay home with Rei while he went back to the agency, mostly to get up to date about everything and sign you both in as the Commission will be expediting the license renewal for whoever reported back. He promised to reach out through Rei if they needed more boots on the ground, since you don’t have your phone anymore, but it’s been a good few hours already and you haven’t heard anything from him. The initial relief of not having to go back has faded as the news plays over and over in your head, and now you’re just plain antsy. 

Surely they’d want more people out there? 

The doorbell rings, nearly sending your dissociating ass flying off the chair.

“Would you mind getting the gate, sweetheart? The oven’s going off any minute now.”

“Sure thing Auntie!”

As you make your way past the pond towards the front gate, you swear you could hear some faint bickering from the other side, as if there’s a whisper shouting match going on, though it promptly stops once you’ve started fiddling with the latch. Cautiously pulling the gate open, you’re greeted with Hawks’ signature grin, and Touya, who immediately narrows his eyes at you. 

“What the fuck are you doing here.” He demands, arms crossed. Hawks whips his head towards the silver haired hero, stunned by his malicious tone.

“Touya.” You greet, face unreadable.

“Are you here to steal from my fucking stash again?”

“I’m here to steal your mom, actually.” You blink.

And then begins the staring contest between you and Touya, daggers obviously included. To your left, Hawks’ eyes keep darting back and forth between you two, deciding if he should step in.

The silence is palpable.

Before the winged hero can open his mouth to say anything though, Touya fucking cackles.

“Alright, bring it in, you little shit.” He yanks you into a hug so tight that if you weren’t so used to it, you might think he’s intended to kill. “How’s it been?”

“Terrible.” You pat his back and turn to give Hawks a small wave. The dynamic display between you and Touya seems to have profoundly confused the blond as he awkwardly waves back. “I’ll tell you later, Auntie probably wants to see you.”

“Auntie? You two related?” Hawks finally pipes up.

“Hell no.” You and Touya speak at the same time.

“I’m just his mom’s favorite.” You add, dodging a swat in the head from the blue flame user. “Come on, she’s making lunch.”

“What is it?” Touya questions as he enters the front yard.

“Mackerel.”

“Ew.”

* * * * *

“I’ve known Shouto since we were kids so I’m here a lot, and they just kinda adopted me.” You quietly explain to Hawks, to which he replies with an elongated ‘ohhhh ’. You two have been standing off to the side of the dining room, trying to give Rei and Touya space for their reunion. “How do you know Touya?”

“Oh! Uh, we’re roommates.”

It takes all your self control not to visibly lift one eyebrow at his ever so slightly raised pitch. However, the blond seems to have picked up on your pause and quickly adds, “And we work together.”

“There's actually someone who can put up with him. I’m shocked.” You respond in a joking manner, punctuated with a laugh to imply that there’s no malice. 

Despite his brief villain phase and your unnecessarily hostile banter, Touya remains a solid big brother to you. He plays the role of the eldest sibling incredibly well, whether it’s yelling at you for hogging the Xbox, or tossing you and Shouto into the koi pond for pranking him, or getting community service for ganging up on your bully, leaving said bully with a black eye, some fractured ribs and an eternal fear of mentioning your name.

“Yeah right?” Hawks chuckles, then clears his throat. “So, what’s this ‘stash’ he spoke of huh?”

Ah, a diversion from the roommate topic. Well played, Hawks.

“Hard drugs, the hardest of them all.” You whisper, eyes darting all around. Cupping your hand over your mouth, you lean closer to him. “They’re called Takis.”

He lets out a loud chortle. “Of course it’s those. He’s so territorial about them.” Gruffing up his voice, he starts aggressively tapping his foot in an attempt to mimic Touya. “You can only get those from the American import store!”

“Not like he’s ever around to eat them anyway!” You throw your arms up. “I can’t let them just sit there and expire.” You emphasize the word ‘expire’ and look Touya in the eye as the stingy Takis hoarder makes his way over.

“If you fuckers have time to bond over stealing my shit, make yourselves useful and set up the damn table.”

* * * * *

Meals at the Todorokis are never fussy when it’s just family, so judging by the mismatched plates and the leftover oyakodon hastily reheated in its storing container for Mr. I-hate-fish, you venture to guess that Hawks also has a regular presence in this household. 

“The supply chain is bound to break down very soon.” The blond says between mouthfuls of food. “Housing will also go into crisis, so we’re preparing for civil unrest.”

“You should bring Dad home, Ma.” Touya’s voice is quiet. “We can hire a nurse that comes by everyday. Hell, we can even send a nurse from our agency.” He tilts his head towards Hawks who nods enthusiastically. “Don’t want you out there by yourself, it’s going to be a crazy time.”

Rei reaches for her empty bowl and gets up to make tea, saying she needs a minute to think about her son’s suggestion, leaving you three to finish the meal.

You’re feeling antsy all over again at the mention of the world’s current situation. Resting the chopsticks over your bowl, you ask the two heroes sitting across the table.

“Speaking of out there, how are things right now?”

“Oddly quiet.” Hawks is the first to reply. “We’re on quick rotation today to give everyone at least a couple of hours to see their loved ones, but there hasn’t been much going on.”

“Won’t be for long though.” Touya chimes in. “Wait, shouldn’t you be at your agency? The Commission’s taking head counts over there last I heard.”

“Uhhhh– Sho’s reporting for me. I kinda don’t wanna be there right now.” You stare at the plate in front of you. Hmm, fish bones, so very interesting.

Bright blue eyes narrow at you. “Why?”

“Cause my ‘boyfriend’ who runs the agency is now engaged to his sidekick.” You grimace, not really wanting to bring this up in front of Hawks. Despite how friendly he seems to be, you both are mere acquaintances. Still, knowing Touya, he would pry it out of you sooner or later.

“That pomeranian is fucking dead.” Didn’t even take a second for Touya to know exactly who you were talking about. “I’m calling Toga.”

“Woah! Please don’t.” You panic. “It was a nightmare getting the Commission off her back last time. You’re not gonna tempt her with another ‘good slashing’. I just– fuck this is fucked up.” You whisper the last part to yourself. Burying your face in your hands, you sigh. “I just need time, I guess. To get my shit together enough to face him.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” An unexpected voice cuts in. 

Your hands drop from your face as you peer at Hawks. He has his usual smile plastered on his face, though with a hint of somberness.

“Come work for us.” He continues, bits and pieces of his signature cheerfulness creep back in as his chin comes to rest on his palm. “We could always use more heroes that can work the air, and from what I saw yesterday you seem pretty good at it.”

“Wait– are you serious?” You gape.

“I mean, up until you were almost splattered against the Samsung rooftop of course, but yes.” His crimson wings flutter in mischief.

“Not that– and I was perfectly capable of keeping those citizens alive thank you very much. But, um.” You drop your hands to your lap to keep from visibly fidgeting. “I mean–”

“You think on it.” The mischief is gone from his voice. “Just putting my offer on the table.” 

“Our offer.” Touya leans forward. After a beat, a smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. “We can take both you and Shouto.”

“Huh? Shouto? What does he have to do with this?”

“You’re crazy if you think the brat won’t follow you over like a fucking lost duckling.” 

“Um, he won’t.”

“Wanna bet? Ya got 5000 yens to lose?”

You frown at Touya like he’s lost his mind. Sure, you and Shouto are as attached at the hip as can be, but the agency is where most of his friends are. Friends of five (ten?) long years who have gone to war and back with each other. Although they’re your friends too, your friendship only started after high school. There are inside jokes you still don’t get.

God, and you just lost out on five more years of bonds. Maybe starting over somewhere else doesn’t sound so scary anymore. 

‘You don’t have to do it alone.’

What Shouto said last night flits by like a breeze, calming, yet intangible at the same time. You don’t know if it means he would pick up his life to follow you, or if it’s simply a good luck hug before you two part ways once more, like the day you left for Ketsubutsu. 

The thought of not having to start over by your lonesome though, does sound… kinda nice.

“Oh, hey guys.”

Speaking of the devil .

Shouto walks into the dining room and sets a cardboard box on one of the chairs. A chorus of ‘hi’, ‘hey’ and ‘sup’ greets him back as he starts rummaging through it.

“They hung onto stuff from our lockers so I grabbed a few things. Here’s your phone.” Shouto hands you the device. “There are some spare chargers in your room I’m pretty sure.”

The Dynamight grenade charm dangles from your worn leather phone case, taunting. 

“Thanks.” You mumble. “I should probably call my cousin.”

Catching a glimpse of you removing the charm under the table before getting up to gather the empty bowls and plates, Shouto clears his throat. 

“Yeah. I’ll put our hero costumes in the wash while you do that.”

“So domestic.” You tease on your way out. “I’ll be right back.”

.

You are way out of earshot when Touya finally snickers.

“Are you fucking blushing, Sho?”

* * * * *

You can’t take your eyes off the 99+ badge that popped up on your message app icon once you’ve managed to get your phone to turn on. 

You had fought hard not to open the can of worms it might contain, but fate had other plans when your cousin didn’t pick up. Feeling obligated to text her cause the poor anxious woman would freak out over a missed call with no explanation, you tap onto the app and hold your breath as the chat logs load in. 

Katsuki’s name pops up at the top.

They all say curiosity kills the cat. You will not be a cat today. You will not be a cat today. You will not be a cat today. You–

You are nothing but a cat.

And you greedily open the chat and scroll all the way to the top of the new messages like a damn ravenous feral.

There must be hundreds and hundreds of gray chat bubbles sitting on the left side of the screen, all staring at you, calling you a masochist. You read on.

.

Katsuki:

where the fuck are you

answer the damn phone

if you’re not there when i get back I SWEAR TO GOD

baby?

please fucking answer im freaking the fuck out

a bunch of pilots went missing so i might be stuck here for a while

just hang on for me okay?

please?

.

Katsuki:

i dont know why im texting when your phone’s right next to me

dont know who to talk to

everyone’s grieving

the agency is so empty

why you gotta leave us huh

asshole

why you?

why not me?

.

Katsuki:

knocked the planter over while breaking into your place

sorry

i know you love that one

loved

the bed still smells like you

come home to me

.

Katsuki:

why are you not back yet

been a month already

sick fucking joke you moron

hope you stub your fucking toe

miss your fucking face

miss you

miss you so much angel

.

Katsuki:

happy anniversary baby

got you your favorite umeshu

you remember the shopkeeper?

the one with the wife who runs the bakery next door

his whole family is still here

how fucking lucky is that

anyway

i fucked up

made a scene when your landlord was showing your apartment to some extras

i mightve punched him

IN MY DEFENSE

the prick didnt have a fucking reason to show it to anyone

ive been paying your rent for fucks sake

now he demands i clear everything out within the week

im so sorry baby

.

Katsuki:

saw this and thought of you

[Image Attachment]

you always liked those damn long nosed dogs

shitty hair and them dragged me out for a damn picnic

food sucks

wish you were here

.

Katsuki:

i hate you

i hate you so much for leaving me

i fucking hate that everything reminds me of you

cant even have a fucking meal without thinking about you

how do i even deserve to eat 

to fucking live

to do all these mundane things like going on a fucking picnic

when you cant

fuck– 

.

[New messages from: Katsuki] 

[Message preview: i know you got your phone back and you’re…]

.

You curse, wiping at the tears that have started pooling at the corners of your eyes. Of course he’s seen all of his messages had been marked as read. With a sigh, you scroll all the way down to the bottom of the chat. 

.

Katsuki:

i know you got your phone back and you’re reading this

i still got your stuff 

they’re in storage at the agency

come by tomorrow

i need to talk to you

[ferg0s]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀʀᴀɴɢᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ

ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ɪɴꜱᴘɪʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴀ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ɪ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴀɢᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴍᴇ ɴᴀᴍᴇ. ᴄᴏᴏʟ ᴘʟᴏᴛ, ɪꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇʀ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜ�� ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ᴘᴀᴄɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴅᴇᴠᴇʟᴏᴘᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴇʀᴇ. ᴀɴʏᴡᴀʏꜱ.

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ꜱʜɪɴᴛᴀʀᴏ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴀ ᴠᴇʀʏ ʀᴏᴄᴋʏ ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴀɢᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ꜱᴇᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴏɴ ᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ, ʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴘᴏꜱᴇꜱ ᴀɴ ᴀʀʀᴀɴɢᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪꜰᴇ.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ | ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ |ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ | ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜰᴏᴜʀ

quiet literally the worse time to be doing this because i start the first day of my new job tomorrow but here i am. Apologies in advance, im running off flavoured air and the wrath of god when we unleashed those 10 curses on egypt. pardon the grammer and spelling.

≿━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━≾

you look at the shattered vase on the floor. it wasnt worth much, you had gotten it at some shitty garage sale a few years back. it looked cheap; between the obvious mass prodiced floral pattern and the chiped edges, it was a miracle a thing like that could coexist with the rest of the funiture in your house. Yet it did. Standing tall on the coffee table, like an oasis in the barron desert. The pink petals of the flower pattern, the tiny lines of green repersenting the stem - a contrast to the light grey furniture.

In all honesty it was fucking ugly.

"-AND I CANT EVEN COME BACK TO MY HOUSE-"

You slowly lifted your head.

oh yeah

"- THE BARE MINIMUM-"

The shouting pulled you away from the shattered vase, the reality of your situaiton coming back in. You could see the vein buldging out in Shintaros neck. His usually calm demanour - his dull eyes, perfect cheekbone, his thin lips - replaced by an expression that you had never seen before. You had seen him angry, you ahd fights, but what couple didn't? This was something new. Usually you would describe his eyes as forest green, the colour of the grass in a hidden meadow in the forest, but looking into his wide eyes, the colour green reminded you of the recycling bin in your driveway.

It was impossible to form a positive thought for him.

His hair was messy, ruffled from the milltionth time he ran his fingers through it - most likely in an attempt to fix his hair but his gesture has the opposite effect.

Everything he was doing was having the opposite effect. The screaming? It irritated you more than it sacred you. The argument? It made you calmer than you were previously before he came home. The vase? Well, the vase was a differnt story. You knew he didnt mean to hurt you in the way that he had with that. You knew him too well to give him enough credit for what he had done. He always hated that vase; since the moment it entered your house he would always try to place it in a spot where it was hidden. Tucked away in some corner as to not clash with the rest of the furniture.

Shintaro was a calculating man. He had to be. Weighing the risk-reward ratio of each step of his day. That's what made him good at his job, he knew his limits and when it was okay to push them; only doing so when he knew the risks associated with it were low. The vase? Sure it wasn't the closest thing for him to reach - he had to take a step or two forward to even be in the radius - but it was the cheapest. In a sea of trinkets that costed upwards of a months pay, the something dollar vase was nothing.

So obviously he would pick that.

"Fuck you,"

The words roll off your tongue before you can even process yourself conjuring the thought up. Why had you said that? Of all things, of all the clever insults, the petty jabs. You went with the bleakest one. The one that held no emotional value; and towards the person you - were suposed to - hold the more emotional value to.

Shintaro froze. As if a mask had slipped off, his face relaxed. His shoulders relaxing, eyes softening with a look of confusion.

That was all? Thats all he got after the shit show he had created. a measly grade school insult?

"I-" "Fuck you Shintaro,"

You look down at the shattered vase, its pieces dangerously close to your bare feet.

You could sense the anger rising up in him again, proably worse than before. What was he mad about that? Not having dinner? You had made his favourite- curry and rice. Was it not warm? It was still in the pot on low heat. Did you not serve it to him on a silver platter? He would always get his own meals. It was like he had been frantcially searching for a reason to be mad at you, or maybe had just made it up.

You turn around, head lifting as your body rotated away from him. You didn't even want to give him the respect to look him in the eyes, to see a sliver of pain.

"Im glad Kotas dead," you hiss out, your voice laced in every negative emotion that filled your body. "So he doesn't have to see how pathetic of a man you really are."

~

Staring at the blue text bubble on his phone screen, he reread the text as if he was missing some hidden message written between the lines. As if two words had the capability to convay something that they didn't repersent.

We're over.

His head hung low, looking at the screen between his hands. He knew this would be the outcome, though the imaged the text bubble with that message being grey rather than blue. But alas, the words had been said. He couldn't exactly say he was shocked. This was the outcome, the ending has been written in stoen before the story even began. Mei knew exactly the type of man he was, though not entirely, he figured she got a glimpse of a side of him that made her turn away. The side was sleeping with other women while with his wife, the side of him that would hook up in the parking lot after work before driving home to share a hot meal with his wife.

He, above all things, was a logical man. And this was a logical reaction. It was easier to be the home wrecker than the wrecked. But what if you were both? Do you lean more into one side or even the scales?

Putting his phone down, he made his way to the kitchen to get the broom and dust pan. He was a doctor, he knew the potential risks of having broken glass around. Besides the potenial cuts, the risk of infection or the glass getting lodged in far enough. Too great - in his head - to go to bed without cleaning it up.

He didn't know what to do anymore. It felt like anytime he could pull a conversation out of you is when you two were fighting. He hated it. He hated being angry, it was beneath him to show such neanderthalic behaviour. He hated how it was the only way he could get you to talk to him nowadays. He was a man of reason, often the voice of reason. And here he was, stooping down to the level of the drunken low-lives who would stumble in the ER. The addicts who would throw themselves on the ground, begging, pleading for a drop of morphine. Pathetic...

With the dust pan filled with the last prices of the shattered vase, he made his way to the kictchen garbage. As he put his foot on the pedle of the trash can, its lid lifting up and the dust pan tilting to drop the contents into it - his eyes caught on something. Lid still lifted, he looked at the small yellow dot on one of the pieces.

It was a bee.

A poorly drawn bee. Like it had been drawn ontop of the design.

His heart sank when he recoginised the shaky drawing. His mouth drying, his throat closing up. The scream he wanted to let out, lost somewhere in his throat.

He wondered if he had been a shirnk, would he have chosen differently. He himself had picked the object he thougth would have the least significance. But would that subjective sense of significance would be differnent if he had thought about it for more than a second?

Staring at the pianted bee, he wonderedi if he would have chosen such a reality if he had thought about it for more than a second.