#his little “oh jesus” when he realized the implications

[leadmetothegardenbetty]

“me and you hanging out in your living room, maybe your bedroom” ok yeah!

[personapeters]

𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬

— a rafe cameron one shot (2 of 2) part one • part two

✰ you’re at a party with your ‘best friend’, rafe, when things suddenly turned sour, and he’s not afraid to fight for whats his.

rating: sfw — cw: blood, implications of tipsy driving

typically, rafe would send y/n a quick text whenever he went over to her house, alerting her of his arrival so she could let him inside, but this time, he doesn’t. instead, he knocked his sore knuckles against the large oak door with a heavy sigh before attempting to adjust his disheveled appearance. after a minute, he knocked again impatiently, this time with a little more force.

“who is it?” a familiar voice called from inside a few seconds later, to which rafe replied, “it’s me.” instantly, he heard the heavy locks turn as the door began to open. “jesus, rafe, i though you were a murderer or some-,” she began, but abruptly stopped when the man was fully in her view, her eyes wide as she took in his appearance, “what—what the fuck happened?”

“don’t worry about it,” he mumbled, casually stepping forward and through the threshold, causing y/n to subconsciously step backwards as she stared up at him in bewilderment. “wha—‘don’t worry about it’? rafe, you’re bleeding,” she voiced with concern, her eyes scanning over the fresh gash on his mouth and ring of red soaked into his once blue collar.

“really? didn’t notice,” he muttered sarcastically, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he shut the door behind him. “don’t be an ass,” she scolded, softly hitting his muscular arm as he strutted into her kitchen, “seriously, what happened?”

he ignored her questioning as he rinsed his hands under the cold water of the sink, running his damp palms over his face with a deep breath. “rafe, answer me, why are you—,” she prodded while following close on his trail, stopping abruptly a few feet away as a look of realization washed over her face, “you didn’t…”

“i did,” rafe rebutted simply with a shrug as he filled a glass of water, turning around and leaning casually against the counter as he drank it. “oh my god,” y/n breathed out exasperatedly, “you told me you wouldn’t.”

“yeah, well, i lied,” he spoke nonchalantly, staring off blankly into the space before him as though he was deep in thought. “you shouldn’t have done that,” she muttered, standing beside him with her hands resting on the counter. “yeah? and why not?” he snapped suddenly, causing her to jump lightly in her place, which was noticed immediately — he cursed himself for being so erratic.

“look,” he started again with a softer, quieter tone, “people like that, have to learn not to fuck with people like you.” the statement was open ended and rather vague, causing a question to stir inside her. “people like me?” she wondered aloud, to which she received no reply. instead, rafe dropped his cup into the sink with a clink before turning to face her and making a motioning for her to come closer with his fingers. “show me your arm,” he requested, his eyes low as he gazed at her expectantly.

“rafe, your lip is literally bleeding, we should—,” she began, her voice raising slightly in emphasis, but he wasn’t going for any of it. “show me your arm,” he repeated, this time with much more conviction, extending a large hand as he impatiently waited. she sighed, reluctantly holding out her left arm while watching him intently, anticipating the negative reaction.

he encased her smaller wrist within his fingers, using his free hand to slide up her sleeve before softly twisting her arm to reveal the faint, pink remanence of finger marks adoring her bicep. an instant wave of fury flooded his body as his eyes raked up and down her forming bruise. the burning fire in his chest singed at every remaining nerve of self control; if he didn’t know any better, he would have driven right back to where he came and expelled his anger onto the man all over again, this time making sure only one of them was able to walk away. he released her from his grasp as he felt his muscles tighten, his jaw tightly clenched.

“yeah, that’s a bruise,” he gritted out as he nodded to himself in disbelief, and y/n quickly noticed his shift in demeanor. “doesn’t hurt or anything,” she offered as a consolation, hoping it would somehow soothe him as she tugged her sleeve back down. “you put ice on it?” rafe asked, exhaling slowly as he attempted to recompose himself and hopefully redirect his thoughts.

“no, it’s not that bad,” she concluded while ripping a paper towel off it’s roll on the counter, running it under the cold water of the sink. “well, you should,” he mumbled, “helps it heal.” she sighed, squeezing out the excess water before turning to face him once more. “rafe, it’s fine. your face is literally busted open,” she rebutted with a small, reassuring smile, “i promise, i’ll live.”

she reached up to the taller man’s face, gingerly holding his jaw with one hand and lightly dabbing at the corner of his lip with the other, attempting to clean some of the dried blood. “does that hurt?” she questioned, pausing for a moment to meet his eyes. his face was nearly expressionless as he lightly shook his head, his gaze locked down on her while his skin almost burned from her touch, and not because of his injury. she nodded in understanding, her eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration as she continued cleaning his face, and rafe couldn’t help but gaze down at her with a sense of adoration — she was truly captivating.

no one’s ever cared for rafe the way y/n did — she was always there to (try and) set his head straight, often talking him down whenever he’s angry, keeping him from doing things she says he’ll regret, though he’s never convinced he will. she’s always given him a place to crash whenever things got heated at home, opening her door for him with no ultimatums, no judgement. she was genuine, unwavering and pure — he wasn’t sure if he’d ever meet another quite like her again; in fact, he knew he wouldn’t.

“you didn’t have to do that,” she whispered, feeling a sense of guilt as her eyes raked over his battered face. “i did, y/n,” he replied, stark seriousness in his tone, “and i’d do it again.” she shook her head with a small smile threatening to break through, “i know you would.” she turned to throw away the dirtied paper towel and grabbed another clean one, wetting it before mumbling, “two wrongs don’t make a right, y’know.”

“first of all, that’s corny as fuck,” he stated bluntly, resulting in a laugh abruptly escaping y/n lips, causing a smile to decorate his face, “and second of all, i don’t do ‘wrong’ to make it ‘right’ — s’to make it even,” rafe stated matter-a-factly, lightly wincing when y/n patted directly at his wound. she knew rafe’s mindset differed greatly from her own, though that never stopped her from at least attempting to steer him in the right direction — even if it is ‘corny.’

“you’re gonna need stitches,” she muttered with sympathy laced heavily in her voice, turning to toss the crimson tinted wad into the trash behind her. “mmm, don’t think so,” he replied casually, his blue eyes following her movements before she stopped in her place. “rafe, it’s like a quarter inch deep. you need to go to the hospital, like, now,” she insisted, her brows raised in emphasis, “before it gets infected or something — seriously.”

he knew it wasn’t something y/n was going to let go or ignore, and he also knew it was likely in his best interest to just do as she said; he’d never admit it, but she was typically always right. “okay, alright, if you say so,” he replied defeatedly with a sigh. “i do say so — you’re good to drive, right?” she questioned over her shoulder while scrubbing her hands with soap and hot water in the sink.

“i mean, i got here, didn’t i?” he shrugged with a small smirk, watching as she dried her hands while wholeheartedly knowing she wouldn’t like his answer. “that wasn’t the question,” she mumbled, shooting him an annoyed look. “yes, y/n, i’m good to drive,” he reassured, knowing his continued antics would only stress her further, “only had a shot worth’a liquor ‘nd that was, like, an hour ago — i’m good.”

“promise?” she asked, turning to him with a pointed look as though it would prod the truth out of him. “promise,” he replied, feeling his chest warm lightly as he found her concern over him to be rather endearing. “also,” he continued, “m’gonna have to crash here tonight — shit spreads quick ‘nd the cops are probably at my mine already.”

though y/n didn’t support some of rafe’s choices, she still supported him nonetheless — she swore it would lead to her downfall one day. “yeah… yeah, of course,” she agreed, nodding slightly as she watched him casually head towards the door, following in-suit behind him. “want me to come with?” she offered sweetly as he opened the door and turned swiftly to face her.

“i’m a big boy — think i can handle it,” he quipped with a soft smirk, “you go pick out a movie or somethin’ for later; won’t be long.” she rolled her eyes, shaking her head playfully before saying, “you’re not setting foot in my room until you shower; you’re filthy.”

“yeah?” he smiled devilishly as he leaned in the doorway, causing y/n to groan while holding back a smile. “you have issues,” she laughed out, lightly pushing him backwards by his chest until he stepped out onto the porch. “tell me about it,” he rebutted, the amused look never leaving his face as he stared down at her.

“i could but we don’t have all night… now go,” she replied warmly, enjoying the comforting feeling growing inside her at the light banter. “ouch,” he laughed, holding a hand to his chest with a faux grimace, “might be the worst pain i’ve felt all day.”

“you’re ridiculous,” she smiled, her eyes resting on him for a few moments before her voice softened significantly, saying, “drive safe, okay? text me when you’re there.” rafe nodded wordlessly, his gaze lingering on her for just a few moments as though it was a silent ‘goodbye’ before turning to step off the porch.

before he even made it down the first step, he was stopped. “wait,” y/n called out, instantly cursing herself for starting something she may regret. rafe paused and turned to face her, a questioning look on his face as a singular brow was slightly raised. “yeah?” he asked, waiting expectantly. without much of a second thought, she padded her bare feet out of the house and into the chill air of the night, stopping abruptly before him.

she reached up and lightly cupped his face with a ginger hand, turning his head ever-so-slightly before pressing a warm, soft kiss onto the bare corner of his lips. rafe was taken aback, but the burning sensation that shot throughout his entire being brought him back to reality immediately. it was a touch so sweet — so tender, one he’s never felt before; it almost made his knees weak.

she pulled away with a hand still rested flush to his jaw as her eyes flickered back and forth between his blue ones. “thank you,” she whispered, her words soaked with sincerity and gratitude as she spoke. it took rafe a moment to fully gather his thoughts and process his reality, but in the midst of the overwhelming rush, he managed to murmur, “y-yeah… always.”

with that, y/n slid her hand from his face, leaving him with a soft, closed-lipped smile before spinning on her heels and re-entering her home, closing the door without a second glance. rafe stood in his place staring at the closed door before him, the tingling in his lips numbing any of the pain he once felt.

rafe didn’t know too much about the night’s events as a whole, it all being a mix of many emotions and feelings, but what he did know was that he’d take a thousand busted, bloody lips, over and oven and over again if it meant that y/n would be there to kiss them better.

 personapeters 2024 — all rights reserved • masterlist

[highonakuweeds]

Who Says Money Can't Buy Happiness? (Pt 3)

Sylus/right hand man!reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | ao3

Summary: The aftermath of last night had left you absolutely in shambles, though you would never let anyone know. You expected Sylus to talk about it more, spark something more, but no. Instead, he talks about a certain MC...

You just had the best sleep of your life. You woke up, flushed, yes, but you also had nicer skin, the silk pajamas you had on were smoothly gliding along you, tickling you in the process. And you woke up… early for once. Since you got used to Sylus’ schedule of things (which made it significantly harder for you to wake up for your “day job”), you always had to begrudgingly force yourself to wake up. But for the first time in forever, you felt energized, just like how a person is supposed to be after sleeping.

Wait, you don’t remember changing into pajamas last night. Nor removing your makeup. And wait, when did you turn on your vinyl player—

Oh.

…OH DEAR GOD—

Your face immediately heated up when you remembered the events of last night. You also clearly remembered passing out after… the best fucking orgasm of your life—Jesus Christ, where did Sylus learn how to please you that well?

Rushes of memories coursed through your brain as a replay of Sylus’ voice echoed. “Use me,” he whispered in your ear, making your heart jump. Ugh, it’s too early in the morning for this.

You sat up on your bed and checked the clock; you had a good amount of time before you needed to go to the Hunter’s Association. With a very, very red face, you sat on the side of your bed, taking deep breaths as you calmed yourself. “Don’t worry,” you whispered to yourself. “It didn’t mean anything.” 

But, fuck, the look in his eyes when you moaned, or his easy compliance when you grabbed his hair to ride his face. All of that stuck with you. By all means, you aren’t a virgin, but no man had ever made you cum that hard and that quickly. So embarrassingly quickly….

You squealed, patting your cheeks to snap you out of it. Could you blame yourself? You had the leader of Onichynus eating you out ! Normally, you were unphased by the borderline-romantic gestures he would do to you, but were you really wrong for thinking otherwise after he’d seen you literally bare ? He changed your damn clothes for you, for God’s sake!

“‘It would be rude of me to not accept it, right?’” You mocked, standing up to turn off the vinyl player. Your voice was significantly lower than your usual and you honestly surprised yourself as well when you noticed just how well you did a Sylus impression. “‘Want a view, don’t you’? I will shove a shovel up your ass.” You grumbled to yourself, cursing your boss quietly as you sat down on your vanity to brush away your bedhead.

—--

Sylus did not sleep at all last night. Well, when has he ever?

But it seemed like no matter what he tried, whether it be going through the agenda for the day or rummaging through his vinyls, he couldn’t get your pretty little moans out of his mind. And no matter what he drank, what he ate afterwards, he couldn’t get the taste of you off his tongue.

Not like he wanted it to fade, though. Sylus wanted to give into vices and sin, indulge in gluttony for once. And it’s not like you didn’t give into your own, either; you were as greedy as they come.

Sylus’ jaw tightened when he realized he was getting distracted. A certain little hunter was going to be paying him a visit today, and he was going to make sure she resonates with him.

Ah, he knew. Since you also worked in the same workplace as her, he could ask you about her.

—--

You went out of your room, your hair away from your face as you walked towards the kitchen. There, you found your boss, head rolled up as he silently slept. You snorted at his vulnerable state before glancing at the chef, who just raised his brows, a playful smirk on his face as he glanced at your boss. 

You huffed, pouting at his implications. A slight glint from the light caught your eye, and you grimaced when you saw caviar and oysters on the ready for Sylus to eat when he woke up. Sure they were expensive, but it was too salty for you. Too… ocean…y? Is that even a word?

Fortunately for you, though, the chef knew you well; you were well acquainted with him due to your frequent midnight meals. He just stifled his laughter, putting on a big smile as he brought out a lighter meal, something more in your comfort zone. The ingredients in it were still a higher quality of it (hence making it more expensive nonetheless), but it was way better than pretentious rich food.

You squealed softly at it before whispering a small, “thank you” at the chef, to which he bowed. Silently, you walked towards your room once more—or maybe you should try the balcony; you could finally finish that book you were meaning to read—

“(Nickname)?” Sylus’ voice made you jump, almost making you drop your plate. Every morning, he sounded lower and gravelly than usual, and you never thought anything about it until you thought about what it would sound like if you woke him up on your knees and sucking his co—

“Sylus! Hi, hello.” You turned on your heels, grasping your breakfast plate with two, very shaky hands. Your boss’ eyes glanced down at them, confusion and intrigue flashing on his face for a split second. The chef placed his breakfast (or lunch? You don’t know when he woke up) and resumed to his spot behind the counter, idly checking everything. And just when you were about to race towards the balcony,

“Eat with me.” 

You froze, wincing at the three-worded sentence before turning with your heels, walking stiffly towards him. Sylus pretended not to notice, the only thing evident that he did was a small smirk on his face. You sat down with an awkward smile before digging into your food; you weren’t sure for Sylus, but you were hungry as hell.

So you two sat there in comfortable (awkward?) silence, the only noise filling up the air being the scraping of utensils on plates. And just when you were about to bring up what happened last night, Sylus’ voice interrupted you.

“What information is there about a certain MC ?” He didn’t even look up at you as he spoke, and you just huffed, pushing around some of the more decorative pieces of your breakfast. Even in simplicity, the chef couldn’t say no to some random herbs to spice up the aesthetics. Here you thought he was going to talk about how he ate you out last night, but nooo. Of course it was business immediately.

Eh, what did you expect?

You rolled your eyes, grumbling something about “talking about work while there’s breakfast in front of us” before tapping your wrist, an organized info sheet about an MC popping up immediately. Suddenly, you knit your brows together, recognizing the woman in the picture provided. “I know her; she’s from my sector.” You narrowed your eyes at Sylus, clearly suspicious. “...Why do you need to know about her?”

He just smirked at you, finally looking up from his food, a brow raised. Ah, he’s expecting you to dig for it. With a grunt, you closed your eyes. Instead of darkness, however, you found yourself looking through endless amounts of strings of possible answers until you found one. You opened your eyes groggily as you grimaced, feeling a headache coming on. The Hunter’s Association surely knows how to keep their secrets confidential. But not confidential enough.

“She’s going to the Nest tonight.” You hummed, impressed, also realizing she most probably won’t be at work today, then. Placing your inner wrist on the table, your eyes stuck to a spot behind Sylus as you figured everything out. “Huh, she has a good chance of coming here, too.” A surge of protectiveness and skepticism rushed through you as your eyes darted towards your boss, jaw tightening. “What are you planning on doing with her?”

He just tilted his head, a pointer finger finding its way to his temple. A habit you’ve seen so much you know when he would do it. “So you can see the future now? What an ability you have, hmm?”

You laughed humorlessly before pushing your food away, no longer having an appetite. “She’s one of my friends’ friends, okay? Don’t break her. And answer my question, Sylus.” You picked your plate from the table to place it on the counter near the sink. He leaned back with a scoff, amused brow raised. “Who are you to boss me around?”

You locked eyes with him with an uninterested glare, and he just sighed deeply. “I’m just planning on having a little chat with her. Are you happy now?” 

With a scrunch of your nose, you dumped the extra food into a small take-out container, making a small high-pitched hum to show your unenthusiasm. “I still don’t believe you.”

Your breath hitched the moment you felt arms wrapped around your waist, hot breath meeting the skin of your neck. You prayed the Sylus couldn’t see just how red your ears were getting despite your face’s expression remaining that of indifference. “Oh, so you’re jealous.” He muttered into your ear, smirking when he saw your ears. Fuck.

You scoffed, slipping from his grip easily and slapping his ass. Sylus scoffed at your action, turning back at you before letting a smirk grow on his face, realizing you had his wallet. “Sure. Whatever rocks your boat. Now, after work, I’m going to be doing a bit of shopping with Tara, and I wanna spoil her, so I’ll see you in a bit.”

He rolled his eyes, placing a hand on his hip as you walked towards your room to get ready for work. “You have to be present when she comes here.”

She? Tara? You tilted your head in confusion before coming to the understanding that he was talking about MC. There was a certain sharp feeling in your stomach whenever he mentioned her name, but maybe it was just because you had just eaten and you were scared for her life. 

—--

“Here you go, baby,” you muttered at the small puppy you had been feeding your leftovers, placing the tupperware on the floor for him to enjoy. He barked out at you before digging into the food, and you couldn’t help but smile. 

You heard a familiar voice call your name over, and you turned to look at who. Ah, Tara. You joined her going inside of the Hunter’s Association as she blabbered about the latest gossip she was somehow able to acquire in the span of just a day or two. How she was able to do so, you weren’t quite sure.

“Oh, and you know MC, right? One of my other friends?” You tensed at the name, remembering the morning before you had to go to work before nodding, hoping that Tara didn’t see the tension under your skin. Thankfully, she didn’t since she began to ramble on about how MC was going to go on a business trip for a while, complaining and whining about how the workload will be piling up now that she would be gone. You just snorted at her antics, not really minding the extra work. Jenna wasn’t a monster; she was probably going to raise your pay a bit more for compensation.

Speaking of Jenna, you were greeted by your day job boss, who was teasing Tara about her complaining. It didn’t take long for your friend to start apologizing profusely.

Sometimes, you wondered what would’ve happened if you just came to the Hunter’s Association immediately, or if you just stayed at Sylus’ side as promised. But no, you were a greedy little thing, and you wanted a bit of hard-earned money and not just what Sylus had given you. Plus having someone inside of the most prestigious association for wanderers would be easier for you to gather information and report back to Sylus. 

It’s always Sylus, Sylus, Sylus. You need to have a life outside of that man.

As Jenna left, you grabbed Tara’s arm excitedly, a greedy gleam in your eyes. “Are we still up for shopping later?” You asked her, trying your best not to sound too eager.

Air passed through your friend’s lips before she laughed. “Of course!”

—--

“Are you sure I could get this?” Tara asked, her voice high-pitched with elation. Beside her was the vintage Serpentine Duo bag from Bulgari and a sales associate trying her best not to let Tara brandish the bag itself. You nodded, grinning with your arms crossed. You walked towards the woman near the bag and asked her just how much it was. And just when she was about to answer you out loud, you pursed your lips, a clear smirk on them before you told her to whisper it to you.

When she whispered the answer to you, you hummed, surprised. “It’s actually cheaper than I expected it to be…” You muttered, before beaming at Tara. “Go ahead; I’ll take care of the payment.”

In just a blink of an eye, Tara was crushing you with her embrace, and you struggled to find oxygen. You shot a glance at the saleswoman then at the bag, indicating to her to get it fixed up. She did so immediately, leaving you with your friend.

Fortunately for you and your airway, Tara let go, still looking like she was about to burst with joy. She took multiple deep breaths to calm herself down, which made you snort. “So,” she said before exhaling deeply one last time. “Why are you spoiling me all of a sudden? Not that you don’t regularly, but this is Bulgari ! My mother could only dream of having a bag like the one you just bought me.” Her grin turned into a smirk, and swiftly, she was behind you, both hands on each shoulder respectively. “Do you have a sugar daddy?”

Ah, the most prevailing question that she teases you about endlessly. You would always joke about money being your boyfriend, and very shortly after would spoil your friends until they were drowning in expensive gifts. 

You just sighed, smiling. But just as you were about to answer her and deny it one more time, your phone pinged, its vibrations startling you. Ah, crap, did you forget to mute your phone? Wait no, you clearly remembered turning it off before going to the Hunter’s Association. There’s only one person you have sounds on for.

You grimaced, glancing at the time before picking up the call. “Yes, I know; I’ll be there in a minute.” You whispered, making Tara raise a brow skeptically.

“I need you here, (Nickname); it better be in just a minute.” Sylus’ voice, though your phone was on its lowest volume, rang in your ears. You rolled your eyes, passing air through your lips. “Whatever. You’ll see me.”

“I’ll see you.”

You ended the call with an annoyed huff, nodding in acknowledgement at the saleswoman as she gave the bag to your friend. You were quick to drag her out of the Bulgari store, however, which made her yelp in surprise. Tara snapped out of it, though, when she processed what was happening.

“Was that your sugar daddy?” 

“TARA!”

—--

The doors opened with a loud crack as you rushed into the living room, sighing in relief when you noticed your signature hood hanging on one of the chairs. To your left was Sylus whose brow was raised due to the commotion you caused, and to your right were the twins, who were both waving at you.

With an exhausted smile, you waved at them back, legs aching from running. “You ran.” It wasn’t a question; Sylus knew that you always took his calls seriously no matter how you retaliated. 

You pressed your lips into a thin line—a pathetic excuse of a smile—before grabbing your hood and pulling it on yourself. Before you were even in the room, you made sure that you covered your forearm to hand in bandages other than a small slit showing the faint glow of your inner wrist. You always thought taking even more precautions in hiding your identity was even better than just carelessly throwing on your hood.

“So, she’s here already?” You glanced at your wrist, the glow flickering slightly. 

Sylus shook his head, the smirk that never seemed to fade growing. “No, not yet. I’ll personally make sure she comes here.”

At that, your head whipped towards him, clear concern written all over your face. “Are you sure? I mean, you have Luke and Kieran—”

“—who will be going with me. The reason why I needed you here so urgently is because you’ll take charge until I come back.”

You snorted at that. “So what am I, a house sitter—and he’s gone.” 

—--

You sat and waited for two hours. Two. Whole Hours. It’s like Sylus didn’t even value your own time! With a groan, you racked your brain for another tune to hum; you were running out by the minute. Luckily, a familiar 6’2 man with a… certain knocked out person behind him came bursting through the door. You gaped at the sight of our own colleague, eyes darting towards your boss in disbelief. 

“What did you do to her!?” You rushed towards her, but he placed a hand in front of you, telling you to stop. Having no choice, you obeyed; you hated the times where he actually felt like a ruthless boss. So much more boring than the usual teasing.

Sylus plopped MC’s body onto the middle of the floor before taking a seat calmly, indicating you to stand by his side by a swipe of two fingers. With a grumble, you did as he “said” and walked towards your original spot. At this point, you were surprised that the floor hadn’t worn out from under it after all those years of standing there.

It took not that long for MC to wake up, and when she did, you quickly pulled your hood down, hiding some of the sympathy you were feeling for the poor girl. Seriously, what did Sylus want from her? 

You saw her glance at you, at the moment you noticed it, you made a big show of gathering intel from your wrist (as if you didn’t know anything about her). Unease settled in your stomach when you new information popped up; her Aether core was something similar to Sylus’, which was why he needed her in the first place. With a cock of your head towards your boss, you crossed your arms, loose sleeves revealing more of your bandaged arms.

Sylus looked at you with no trace of a smirk on his face, but unadulterated seriousness. Not towards you though, but towards the woman trembling and kneeling in front of the both of you.

“You…” MC’s voice was raw and rough, as if it took her an endless amount of strength to speak alone. It probably did.

You prevented yourself from taking any course of action, knowing that in this state, you cannot defy Sylus one bit. It was part of your deal with him, after all. And you’d rather kill yourself than get killed by a man like him.

“So, you do remember me.” Sylus responded with a raise of his brow, using his Evol to force MC to kneel in front of him, and with two fingers, he lifted her chin up. You took a deep breath; you can sit through this. You’ve sat through worse before.

But it was different now that you know her.

MC’s face contorted in confusion and fear, though it was masked by a face of indignation. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve only met you today.”

Sylus hummed lowly, shaking his head slightly before gripping her chin tightly. MC sucked in a breath before exhaling sharply. “Resonate with me.”

Your head sharply turned towards him. They couldn’t do that; from the conclusions you drew earlier, it would be too powerful for them to resonate so suddenly. And given just how terrified your colleague was of him, it would be near impossible. 

You made sure your voice was lower than your true voice. “Sir, are you sure—” 

“Did I tell you to speak?” His voice was sharp in comparison to how he usually talked to you, making you draw back into your indifferent expression, bowing your head slightly in apology. Damnit.

Sylus’ hand dipped lower to her hand and forcibly made their hands intertwined with each other, making the same sharp twist in your stomach appear once more. You gritted your teeth, taking a shaky yet quiet breath to compose yourself. You watched as he attempted to resonate with her, but to no avail. 

“A shame.” He muttered, though even with it, his voice commanded the room with ease. From your limited vision, you could see MC clearly fighting something in her head, and the groans and grunts you were hearing from her weren’t contradicting your small theory, either.

Like you said, it was near impossible for them to resonate.

Silence engulfed the room before Sylus exhaled sharply. “We’ll do this again tomorrow. If you can’t resonate with me by then, you won’t be having any dinner.”

“What!?”

Sylus’ Evol snuck around her mouth and neck, causing her difficulty to breathe, and it was only then did you actually interfere. You knew he would never actually kill her, but it was already enough torture as is.

“Sylus.” Your changed voice boomed all around the room. And in the last moments of MC’s consciousness, she saw the man suffocating and choking her obey you, as if his name was enough for him to understand. 

Her limbs grew limp the moment Sylus let go, and you took a deep sigh. “You didn’t have to go that far.” You whispered as you slung her across your shoulders, one shoulder slotted between her legs and the other supporting her chest, making sure all the blood in her body wouldn’t accumulate in her head and make her even more unconscious.

Sylus didn’t respond to you, and the only thing he gave you was a small huff and a twitch of his brow. Without anything left to say or do, he stood up from his throne, walking towards the big doors in which he came from. You grit your teeth, walking towards the hidden side door of the room with a passed out MC on your shoulders.

—--

“Luke, Kieran, see to it that this girl still eats something when she wakes up. I don’t think she’ll be able to survive having this weak of an immune system without any sustenance.” You told the two henchmen as you placed MC on a small bed somewhere deep in Sylus’ base. They nodded hesitantly before leaving the room, and you sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed as you stared at the colleague you weren’t quite affiliated with, but knew due to mutual friends. From her breathing, you could tell just how close she was to actually dying, which made your nose scrunch in concern for her and anger for your boss.

Jesus, he didn’t have to go that far. He could’ve asked you to befriend her, then you’d introduce her to him, then the whole resonate thing probably would’ve been easier for the both of them.

No, MC would’ve gone to the N109 Zone nevertheless; it was inevitable.

Just as you were about to leave, you heard the shifting of clothes, making you pull your hood down to cover your eyes, leaving a shadow to cover the rest of your face. 

The next thing you heard was a small voice. “Who are you?”

Well, you couldn’t disclose that information, duh. So, you went with something… Sylus themed. If Luke and Kieran means light-bringer and little dark one (respectively), of course you’d have to go for something within that range.

“...Call me Nyx for now.” You flashed her a smile, lowering your voice to match what she heard in the throne room.

MC’s brows furrowed, her body tense. She was clearly agitated, and you had no right to tell her that she shouldn’t be. Though you could barely see with the hood over your eyes, you were able to get a glimpse of her silhouette shifting on the small bed you put her on. “Where am I?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” you muttered, pursing your lips. “To save our time, I’ll answer all of them. I can’t tell where you are nor can I tell you where Sylus is, though rest assured we are still in the N109 Zone. Sylus told us that you shouldn’t be fed, however I had told them to give you a little something to keep your spark alive. Oh, and the two people you saw with masks were Sylus’ henchmen, Luke and Kieran. You’ll be… seeing them more often.”

The information processed in MC’s head, making her lay her head down on the headboard. “So, you have the same power as Sylus in this place?”

You furrowed your brows, your full attention piqued now. Crossing your arms, you shook your head. “No. What gave you that idea?”

“Well, you were able to counter the command of Sylus by telling ‘them’ to give me food. So, I assume you do…?”

You opened your mouth to speak before closing it again. How do you explain the complicated stand you have in the N109 Zone? Yes, you were below Sylus in terms of the hierarchy, but if you were reasonable enough, he would allow you to give your own commands—even if it countered his—towards his men.

“It’s complicated. But all I can say is that I do not. Just as he is Luke and Kieran’s boss, he is also mine.”

You could feel the mistrust of MC filling the entire atmosphere, and you sighed, dropping your head down low before sitting down on the edge of the bed. She flinched, hand quickly going towards her holster, only to find it empty. Despite your eyes being covered, you deadpanned at her. “Of course we’re going to be taking your guns; can’t have you shooting the entire place up. Listen, uhm,” you patted your thighs awkwardly, sighing. “All I can tell you is that I will make sure you don’t die here; it’s a very shitty place to live your last moments in, believe me. And that, you’ll be able to do it.”

MC tilted her head. “...Do what?”

You just smiled. Your words could mean anything, honestly. From the resonance to winning Sylus over (as must as the latter hurt you). So, to fit into the mysterious aura of being Sylus’ right hand woman, you merely shrugged. “You’ll see for yourself.”

Mm, vague. Perfect.

And with that, you left, giving MC a bunch of unanswered questions in her mind. 

—--

The next day, Sylus had called MC back for another attempt at resonance, however you didn’t stay by his side this time. You were at the opposite wing of the base, preparing a little snack for yourself to fuel your mind for the upcoming research your boss had told you to do. Luckily, Luke and Kieran were by your side as they had agreed to be a listener to your mumbles in order for you to not forget anything.

You sat down on the edge of the large couch, crossing your legs as you placed a sleek laptop and your plate of snacks on the table. Shrugging your silk jacket over your shoulders, your hands idly played with the same fabric of your shorts. “Okay, so, the thing with resonance between these two is that it’s completely risky, right? Well, the only way Sylus can actually have a chance in this little plan of his—which he never told me about, by the way; it’s very insulting—is if, and only if, he stops being an ass towards her. He needs to lower his pride.”

Luke snorted at your words, reaching across the table to nonverbally ask if he could get a piece of your food. You nodded absentmindedly, not looking at him as you typed something down on the laptop. Having multiple paragraphs running through your mind sometimes made you forget your actual train of thought, so Sylus had gifted this laptop which only he and you had access to to help you with it. “If Boss heard you, he would’ve killed you.”

His brother hummed, lounging on the couch until his head reached your shoulder and his legs laid across Luke’s lap. “I don’t know, Boss seems to favor (Name).”

You rolled your eyes at what Kieran had said, trying to ignore the reddening of your ears. “Please. His new toy is MC; I probably would’ve gotten killed.”

“Sure.” The both of them had replied, making you knit your brows together as you looked at them. “Luke, weren’t you just saying that Sylus would’ve killed me?”

“Changed my mind; he definitely favors you.”

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. “Whatever.”

Your idle chatter with the two men got cut short the moment you got a ping from Sylus on your computer, telling you to come pick MC up. You clicked your tongue, standing up. You ignored Kieran’s yelp as his head fell onto the couch as you shook your head. “He’s being too harsh with her.” You muttered to yourself, sprinting towards the throne room once more.

What really ticked you off was the last time your boss had tried to resonate with MC.

Even with the secret food and water you were giving her, she was clearly still so weak, though that fire in her never faded. So imagine your surprise when she was forced by Sylus to kill him. 

Your mask of indifference and stone broke the moment blood splattered on your cheek and hood. Normally, you were accustomed to it, with it happening so many times before. However, this wasn’t just anyone’s blood, no, this was Sylus’. 

Your eyes widened in horror as Sylus threw the gun away, and your throat closed up the moment you saw MC desperately trying to “save” Sylus, despite her not realizing that he just. Could not. Die. 

But to inflict that kind of trauma onto somebody you knew…

The blood dissipated from where MC held his heart, and the wound in it disappeared, too. The shock and panic of it all, however, led MC to pass out once more. Mix that with the sheer fatigue of the past couple days, and you weren’t even sure if you could keep your promise to her of making sure she doesn’t die here.

You were quick to catch her and sling her arm around your neck, and just as Sylus was about to stand up, you pulled your hood down and slapped him as hard as you could across the cheek. He didn’t react, only stared at where his head was facing from the blow. Though through your boss’ peripheral vision, he could see the pure anger in your stare. “Never do that to any of my friends again,” you whispered, but it was loud enough.

“She isn’t your friend.” He growled in response.

“A friend of a friend is , Sylus.” You raised your voice slightly, holding MC closer to you. “She hasn’t done anything to deserve this.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You heard her, right? How she ‘doesn’t remember’ you.” Sylus finally looked at you, his gaze cold, though you didn’t let the sign of angst in his eyes go unnoticed. “I don’t know what happened before, but she’s more than changed, Sylus. Accept that.” You took a deep breath, shaking your head. “When she wakes up, be kinder. Consider where she’s coming from.”

And with that, you left the throne room, not looking back once. Though whether it was to make him contemplate his actions or for you to hide your tears, you weren’t sure.

—--

You stormed into your room the moment you placed MC on her bed, a much better bed than the initial one she was in. She was finally placed in a room much closer to the surface, which should hopefully put her more at ease the moment she wakes up.

If she wakes up.

You clicked your tongue as you shed your hood, sitting down on your bed with shaky hands. From your position, you glanced at the full body mirror just beside your bed. Sylus’ blood was still on you.

You may have overreacted, maybe, but that horrid sinking feeling in your stomach prevented you from thinking rationally. 

You were going to honest, the reason why you’d done that wasn’t just because of what he did to MC. It was the sheer lack of care that Sylus had for his own life and lack of care that you had seen. Yes, you knew he couldn’t be killed, but it still felt like he could. Just for a split second, you cared for Sylus , not your boss .

Your mind drifted towards a couple nights before, making you grit your teeth and tick your head sharply once. How had he gotten so obsessed with a different woman just a couple hours after he’d done something so… intimate to you? After he had expressed care, not the kind of care that a boss would have to his subordinates, but the kind of care that a lover would have to his significant other.

Ugh, you felt so selfish.

Well, he did say he was just going to help you. So that you wouldn’t get hurt. Feel any more pain.

If that was so, then how come he’d forced someone to place a gun against his chest? How come he’d forced MC to pull the trigger? If he truly didn’t want you to feel any pain, then he’d know just how much care you had for him and wouldn’t have done that at all.

Multiple thoughts ran through your head, and it wasn’t long until you were crying again. The tears mixed with the blood on your face, and stained your clothes as they dripped down. The metallic scent filled your nostrils, forcing you to stand up and finally take that hot shower you needed to relax your mind.

When you get out of your shower, sighing at the feeling of fresh, clean skin, it was only then did you notice a pretty bouquet of your favorite flowers on top of your nightstand. Your heart skipped at it, and it was embarrassing how quick you were to read the note beside it.

You sighed sharply when you realized it was from Aries. In all honesty, you’d totally forgotten about him. I haven’t heard from you in a while, it read in his pretty handwriting. Here’s some flowers to calm you down if you’re having a stressful week. You mentioned these to be your favorite, right? 

Your eyes stung once more at the message. It actually felt quite nice having someone other than Sylus give you flowers. Whenever your boss would give you flowers, it would probably just be to make sure that you don’t develop a random hatred for him. But this somehow felt… different. 

You slept with a smile on your face, though memories of hours before still plagued your mind.

—--

How did your slap hurt more than a gunshot to his heart?

That was what Sylus wondered, holding his cheek in his room. Even after he’d freshened up, he could still feel that sting of your hand, and for some reason it hurt more than anything else he’d ever experienced.

He knew that you wanted him to apologize to both you and MC, but he wasn’t going to do that; what was he going to apologize for towards any of you? He did what he had to do.

…

Granted, he may have overreacted. And granted, he did see pain covered by the anger in your glare. 

He was the one shot; why were you the one that looked so hurt?

He’ll just… make up for it tomorrow somehow.

[blackholesun321]

I saw your post about sending asks about one piece so here I am.

Wing AU Mihawk and Shanks being mates and secretly married. Shanks finding it hilarious that a warlord, an ally to the Marines, is married to a Yonko and one of the most powerful pirates. Mihawk accidentally acquiring Zoro after Zoro gets lost and ends up following Mihawk. DadHawk with his baby birb and Shanks laughing and saying Mihawk is like him with collecting children. Shanks with his baby birbs Uta and Luffy. Happy birb family.

I apologize it took me so long to get to this but yessssss! I love shit like this ten outta ten ask my you alway get discounts from you local retail. My your pillow he alway the right softness and your steak alway cooked to perfection. 💜 ✨

Alright, I adore AUs like this because of the world-building you can do. Like, people have big-ass wings attached to their backs? What does that look like at sea? Fighting? Houses? Sleeping? How do people have different instincts or traditions? Have cultures changed in some way, or how did all people suddenly have wings?

It's a fun playground, but throw in found family and ships, it gets even better. But let's add a twist to this: say Devil Fruit users can't fly? Just as the Mother Sea cursed them to never swim, Father Sky cursed them to the earth and Devil Fruit users' wings basically become useless after they eat one. It doesn't impact all users; some can fly naturally with their powers, or if you have a bird zoan fruit, it usually cancels out the flightlessness. But those stuck on the ground, dragging that heavy, useless weight around, tantalized with freedom that can never be... well, it would drive some mad.

It's not popular, but not uncommon for a Devil Fruit user to just remove their wings. Which, if you think about the cultural and societal implications of wings, for communication, rituals, gender identity, courting, family bounding and friendships- One can only assume that is you have extra appendages they be incorporated into one’s communication, just like how you move your arms when gesturing or quirking eyebrow to ask a question, they could be used to show anger, attention, fear or attraction. Being well, removing a whole-ass way of communicating and engaging with community, even if they’re useless; would be I feel a great taboo and another way for the world government to fear monger. I'm guessing in some cultures it's considered the greatest punishment or the greatest shame.

But if this little tidbit is true, think about baby Luffy. Just getting his flight feathers in, this little ball of down, learning to swim and just starting to fly. Maybe Shanks helps him; maybe he laughs and goads him on with every hop and skip just a few seconds in the air. Just for him to crash down. But he gets back up again, determined to fly longer, to go higher, and Shanks watches him and feels this swell of something like warmth and a little bit like fondness under his breastbone as Luffy comes back disheveled, covered in dirt and pouting. He remakes his nest a little bigger when he gets back to his ship that night. Adds blankets and some pillows, the down he's kept from Mihawk and Uta and other members of the crew, picked through and rearranged. He's a little too drunk to think of it in a moment, but the realization does come halfway off to dreams that of, "Oh, shit, I haven't done this since Uta!"

He, of course, panics in the morning, hungover and acting like the world's going to end. Shaking Benn like a rag doll, ranting like a loon, and, of course, he gets punched in the head for his trouble, and then laughed at because, "Captain, you've been inducting Luffy into our flock since the last trip; you've only now noticed?"

And Shanks has, like, this come-to-One-Piece-Jesus moment where all the little moments—of preening Luffy's feathers, weaving his fluffy down into his own wings, letting Luffy keep the bright red feathers that fell from his wings, Luffy giving them colorful things like shells, beetles, buttons, and rocks—just click into his head.

And he realizes shit I’m a dad again. Mihawks going to kill me… or laugh his ass off. (Mihawk is dealing with his own child acquisition at this point Shanks no worries, you can both commiserate together.)

There would be more bonding after that. Small, soft moments where Makino would watch and see her dark, velvet green feathers matched with Shanks' red. Luffy's never had people, never had friends before, never had a parent, and as much as Makino tries to help this poor little boy in his two empty house with his two empty eyes, she has never had the ability to be wholly what he needs. He needed a family, something full to bursting with love and joy, and she had never seen the little fledgling with more joy than the Red Force.

There is tragedy, of course. Luffy still eats his Devil Fruit. And Shanks is now filled with a guilt he will never be able to forgive. He crippled this poor kid before he'd even taken his first flight. He'd stolen the sky from his fledgling, so it's more fitting he loses a wing in return.

In this AU, because of the wings, humans have other instincts. Of course, if you had giant shields on your back, you'd use them instead of reaching out your arm, shielding Luffy and himself. Shanks pulls off armament just a bit too slow. And the Lord of the Coast bites the top of his left wing, teeth sinking in as Shanks screams, and flesh, as well as feathers, are ripped from him in a shower of blood and down so red you can't tell what's feathers and what's viscera.

His wing flops limp in the boat and bleeds all the way back to shore, no matter how much they try to stem it. Shanks is pale by the time the Red Force finds them, pale and cold, holding a sobbing Luffy to his chest as he tries to soothe. "It's only a wing, Luffy; it's only a wing."

God I’ve fallen in love with this au, me and it are sloppy kissing at the back of dennys in my brain. I’ve started writing a Shanks and Mihawk thing for this and definitely will add in Zoro and Mihawks and the sudden ‘father hood be upon ye’ that they get to deal with. It’s along the lines of who is that feral green child?—And said feral child is trying to stab him but also Mihawk keeps correcting his form and then eventually gets fed up and start actually teaching Zoro to stab properly. Type of energy.

[warmaidensrevenge]

If you are taking requests…. Eddie x plus-size! Reader/BFF

eddie x reader have been friends since childhood they recently started a FWB deal reader likes eddie but thinks it’s just a deal for him to get his needs met immediately it becomes them attached at the hip doing everything together seeming couplish but not realizing it ….eddie takes reader to a party where Steve Harrington is unaware of their situation ship and he immediately starts flirting and eventually asks reader out…eddie gets a little jelly jelly causes a scene by throwing her over his shoulder and taking her out and home where they have the most intense /possessive (the hot kind) sex and he tells her she has to be his….

I love this idea. So I kinda changed it a little. And it kinda got away from me.

FWB

Pairings: Eddie Munson x BFF!plus size reader

A/N: Hey guys. This is a request I had for a while now and thought I would finally get to it. I know it's not exactly like the suggestion, but I absolutely love it. Thanks for reading. As always feedback is greatly appreciated and asks/comments are always welcomed. Kay love ya byyyyyeeee.

Word count: 7,058

Warnings: 18+ sexual situations/implications, oral (M&F receiving), unprotected sex, slight degrading, slight breeding kink, use of bondage, little bit of dom!Eddie, language, and not proof read.

I do not give permission for my work to be used or published anywhere else. Please respect all creators.

Summary: Fucked around and fell in love.

🖤💚

Eddie was sitting on his bed re reading the Hobbit, when his roommate and best friend stormed into his room. Throwing yourself on the bed.

A deep sigh left your lips.

" Rough day?"

" Ugh! Like you wouldn't believe."

Eddie closed his book and grabbed a small bottle of lotion and took off your shoes and socks.

" Tell me about it."

You shook your head. " I'm just really fucking tired of working there. I swear to Buddha, if one more guy tells me 'do you have fries to go with that shake?' I'm punching him in the throat."

Eddie smirked. " Dude, can I be there to see it?"

You laughed. " Sure. But I'm warning you, if you don't stop me from kicking ass. I'm gonna go to jail."

He chuckled while massaging your feet. 

" Dude, this guy grabbed my ass today."

Eddie's brows pinched together and jawed flex as he looked at you.

Eddie was pissed. 

" And you know what he said after?"

" He said. ' Sorry sugar, I just can't help it. I like that wagon your draggin'"

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips. That had to be the funniest shit he ever heard. He was trying so hard not to laugh but he just couldn't.

You pulled one of your feet away and pushed him a little.

" It's not funny!"

" Yes….it…is" he said through his laughs. " To be fair sunshine. You do have a wagon back there."

" Hey, it's not my fault. Big butts and big guts run through the family. It's a curse. Destined to be ugly and fat."

Eddie stopped laughing and gave you a frown. 

" Sunshine stop that. You know you're not ugly. You're actually very beautiful."

You shrugged and pulled your other foot away. " I guess."

He put away the lotion and pulled you to lean against the headboard with him. Putting a hand on your thigh.

" Honestly sunshine. Why do you think guys hit on you at Benny's? Because you're one of the best looking girls in Hawkins."

You shoulder bumped him. " Thanks bud. But let me ask you something… why don't I have a boyfriend?"

" You want a boyfriend?"

You put your head on his shoulder. " Well no. What I really need is to get laid. It's been ages."

Eddie raised his brow. " How long is ages?" 

You sighed. " 7 months."

" JESUS!" 

You lifted your head and punched his arm. 

"Shut up! It's not like you're bringing girls back like you used to. How long has it been for you?"

" Uhh let's see….hmmm carry the two…."

" Eddie!" You punched him again.

" Ouch. Okay! Geez! It's been like 5 and counting."

" See. I'm not the only lame one here."

You sat there for a minute studying Eddie's expression. 

" Oh no." You sighed. " What's going on in that big head of yours?"

Eddie had a thought. Maybe it wasn't the best but fuck he really needed to get laid.

" Uhh you know how Gareth is friends with Alex?"

Your eyes widened. " You're not suggesting what I think you are?"

He chuckled nervously. If he was honest with himself, the only reason he didn't hook up with anyone was because of you. He didn't remember when it actually happened. But somehow he started having these…feelings. They weren't much at first. It was just after a long day at work, he couldn't wait to come home and talk to you. Or when he had a show all he wanted was to see your face in the crowd. You never went to his shows because you always worked the night shift on Tuesdays. But he really wanted you there. For some reason even though he saw you everyday, he felt like it wasn't enough. So maybe if he suggested something outlandish, you would agree. Then he can get closer than he'd ever been.

" I know it's weird because we're friends. But what if we did what they do?"

You shifted a little and Eddie could tell you were a little uncomfortable.

" I-I mean we don't…I just thought-"

" Just sex?"

He looked at you surprised by your question. Were you actually considering it?

" Y-yeah. It could be like a stress release."

" Hmmm…so how often would you say we can do it?"

Eddie looked away. Another question he wasn't prepared for.

" I- I guess when we need to."

Or want to…

You were quiet for a minute. Eddie heard you gulp. You turned to face him.

" Okay. But a few ground rules first."

Eddie was in shock. All he could do was nod.

" Oral is a must. For both parties."

He sucked in a breath. " Of-of course."

" No kissing. That's too intimate."

Eddie nodded again.

" Umm so shaving. I trim but I don't go bald. Are you okay with that?"

He swallowed then chuckled . " Y-yeah. The wilderness must be explored."

You playfully pushed him and giggled. He grinned.

" Uhh I trim too. But I still have a bush. Are you cool with that?" He said.

You looked away and blushed. Eddie couldn't help the smile plastered on his face. You looked so pretty when you got shy.

" That's fine. As long as I'm not flossing with them."

He chuckled. " No you won't."

You guys were quiet again. Eddie noticed you getting nervous. You always chewed on your nails when you did. 

" So besides the obvious penetration, what else do you like that guys have done?"

You brought your hand down from your mouth and started picking your nails. 

" Well umm I like my nipples played with…and biting."

Eddie tilted his head. " Biting?"

" Well not like biting biting, more like nibbling. And I like it a little rough. Kinda when the guy grabs my neck."

Fuck that's hot! He thought.

"Like this?" He said, wrapping his long fingers around your throat.

" Uhhh no…don't put pressure on my windpipe… Squeeze the veins."

He readjusted his fingers and squeezed.

" Mmm yeah…like that." You moaned.

God just that little sound you made got him so hard. You pushed his hand away and started fidgeting with your ring.

" What do you like?"

Eddie wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and started playing with his rings.

" I uhhh well I like blow jobs."

You scoffed. " Who doesn't?"

" True….umm I also like when the girl rides me. Something about the way tits bounce. It's fucking hot."

You nodded. " I can do that."

Eddie smirked. " I umm this might sound weird. But I like using handcuffs."

" On you or the girl?"

" The girl."

" Hmmm…okay…I haven't done it like that. But umm maybe next time."

You guys were quiet again. 

Eddie cleared his throat. " So uhhh…are we gonna do this?"

You chewed on your lip for a second. " Only if it doesn't make things weird between us."

" I won't if you won't."

You nodded and got up.

" Where are you going?"

You looked back at him. " Gonna shower first. I got a little sweaty at work today. "

" That's okay. I don't mind."

You smiled at him. " I do though. Umm why don't you get ready and I'll be out in a minute."

Eddie got up and looked around his room. What should he do? 

He first took off all his clothes. Then put on some music. He moved the blanket to the side and laid down. His erection was fading and he didn't want you to see him soft so he started jerking himself off. After a few minutes you came back in just a towel.

" Woah. Okay you're naked." You said looking away.

" Yeah...you told me to get ready."

You climbed on his bed slowly holding onto the towel. 

" Can you get the light?" You asked, sitting by his feet.

Eddie reached over to pull the lamp string. As soon as it went dark he felt your hand rubbing his thigh.

" Can I put it in my mouth?"

He felt your hand slide up and grabbed him. 

" Yeah." He sighed.

His eyes rolled back feeling your lips press a soft kiss on his head. He groaned feeling your tongue lick a fat strip from his base to his tip. Swirling your tongue around his head then you sucked his tip gently giving him goosebumps. While pumping with your hand you took him deeper into your mouth.

Your mouth felt so good, so warm. And the way you sucked and licked him he swore he saw stars. 

Eddie's hand instinctively went for the back of your head. Then out of nowhere you let go of him with a little pop. Your hand continued to pump him while you sucked on his balls. His hips jerked up feeling your tongue circling each one.

"Fuck! Mmmm…god that's fucking good."

He felt you hum with one of his balls in your mouth. You let go after a minute and cupped them to keep them warm. Return your focus back to his throbbing cock. 

Shit how are you so good at that? 

He felt his release coming but as much as he would love to fill your pretty mouth with his load. He had to make sure he made you feel good too.

" Uhh sunshine?"

You hummed with a mouth full of him.

" Can I taste you now?"

You let up and kept pumping him and massaging his balls.

" Yeah."

You moved to lay down as Eddie got between your legs.  The towel fell towards your hips as you raised your knees. He spread your knees and got close, taking a whiff.

Damn you smell so good. 

When he ran his fingers between your folds you were so slick. 

All this for sucking me off? 

Normally Eddie would be very vocal about all of this. But this was already crossing that line between friends and just a hookup. To him this was more than that. You were his best friend and he didn't want to disrespect you. Or make you feel like just an object.

He stuck his tongue out and gave you one slow lick from your entrance to your swollen clit.

JESUS H….how are you so sweet?

After the first taste test, he dove in. You had been quiet for a second until he started flicking his tongue on your clit. The soft moans were driving him mad. He wanted more. Needed to make you say his name. But you didn't.

When Eddie looked up the soft amber glow from the light outside shone on you making you look so beautiful. You had pulled the towel off and were massaging your tits. Now that he saw you completely naked he choked on his own spit. Every roll and all your stretch marks were so sexy to him. And your tits…God he wanted them in his mouth. 

He readjusted so he could reach up and play with one. 

" Eddie…finger me." 

Your voice was so soft and sweet he got impossibly harder.

With his free hand he slid in his middle and ring finger while sucking on your clit. He then curled his fingers up in a come hither motion. He was gentle at first, making sure you adjusted to his stretch.

Fuck! So tight and wet.

" Press harder." You moaned.

He did so and your moans turned into heavy breathing and whimpers.

" Ohhhh… like… that."

You started moving your hips and your hand went into his hair. 

" Ohhh Eddie shit." 

He felt your walls pulsate and he smiled to himself. 

You gonna cum? Shit…not yet.

When he pulled out his fingers you whined.

" Condom?" He asked. Voice low and deep, full of lust.

" You have one?"

" Yeah"

He crawled up your body until he was face to face with your ample breast. Taking your nipple into his mouth and tugging it gently. He reached over to his nightstand and fumbled around grabbing a rubber. He moved his mouth to the other side and played with your nipple. He hurried and put in the condom. After, he aligned himself to your entrance, preparing himself to cross the line. He looked up at you and you had your eyes closed pressing your lips together.

" Sunshine…are you okay?"

" Mhmm. I just can't believe we're gonna have sex."

" We don't have to. We can stop and pretend this never happened."

You looked at him with a hint of concern. Then you smiled.

" Nope. You have to fuck me now."

Eddie smirked.

A guttural groan came out as he pushed himself in you. His body trembled. He was not expecting you to feel this good. It almost felt like you were a virgin. As he pushed further he stopped half way when he felt your already tight hole get even tighter.

Your body stiffened under him. He met your eyes and gave you a questionable look. 

" Umm can you kiss my neck?" You whispered.

He nodded and pressed tender kisses all over. Then he moved a little deeper and nipped at your neck. Feeling you relaxed again he continued to thrust in. He was almost at the hilt when he hit a spot that made you gasp.

" There?" His voice was husky.

" Y-yes…fuu."

He pulled out a little then went back in, hitting it again. Your moans drove him crazy. It honestly sounded like music. 

Picking up the pace Eddie sucked on your nipples again. Leaving small bruises around them. You dug your fingernails into his back. Not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to leave little crescent shapes. 

Eddie groaned and panted. He was so close. In order to get you there faster, he reached down and rubbed your clit. Your hips bucked into his and you cried out his name.

He latched his lips to your neck nipping and sucking. 

" Eddie…fuck! Gonna cum."

He grunted, thrusting harder.

" Cum sunshine." He said against your hot skin.

He then heard you go silent. He rested his forehead on your collar bone and screwed his eyes shut when he felt your release. His arms trembled while holding himself up. His load filled the condom. Once he was finished he just stayed there for a minute to catch his breath.

" Jesus…I really needed that." You said just above a whisper.

A small chuckle left him. " Same."

He pulled out and laid down. He wanted to grab you and cuddle but you quickly got up and put the towel back on.

" Same time tomorrow?" You asked.

" Uhh sure."

" Okay. Gonna shower again. Night bud."

"N-night."

When you left he just laid there in disbelief. 

Shit! That was great.

…

Over the next month Eddie got to have sex with you almost every other day. For the most part you initiated it by randomly sucking him off. Or showing up half naked in his room. He wasn't complaining though. He loved your mouth and your pussy. You always were so wet for him and gave the best head. Most importantly though he was falling deeper in love with you.

One particular day you were in the kitchen making dinner as usual when he got home from the shop. Something came over him seeing you in that red and white plaid apron. Things were calm that day. No stressful situations or anything that might need some type of release. When things started that's why you guys had sex. However, it quickly became more. To him if felt like you had sex with him not only because he could make you cum. But that you started to like him how he liked you.

He grinned at you and sat at the counter.

" So how was your day?" You asked with a smile.

" It was good. How was yours?" 

Eddie watched as you went to the fridge and pulled out a beer for him. He noticed that you weren't wearing any underwear. He licked his lips when you turned around. You were wearing gray track shorts. They hugged your big round ass so good, it had him wanting to drop to his knees and worship you.

You turned around to hand him his drink and smiled.

" It was good too. No assholes today. "

He took a swig and wiped his mouth. 

" That's good sunshine. So uhhh what's for dinner?"

You looked up from the stove. Your eyes meeting his made his heart pound. Your long eyelashes kissed your cheeks.

" Tacos."

" Mmmm love tacos."

You looked back to the pan and mixed the beef.

" I know."

" Do you need help?" He offered

" Umm no. I got this. Just relax."

He watched you move around the kitchen. You were so graceful. But then you bent over to grab someone from the lower cabinet. His eyes nearly popped out of his head. Your cheeks spread a little. When you stood up the fabric of the shorts got stuck between. 

Eddie stood up and took one more drink before heading around the counter. He wanted you so he was going for it.

He walked up behind you and slowly pressed his erection against your bottom. To his surprise you arched your back and pressed your bottom closer to his hips. He ran his hand up your side to your neck. Tilting it a little so he could kiss you there. 

" Mmm Eddie…I'm cooking."

" Turn the stove off. " He said between kisses. " The only taco I want right now is yours."

" Ewww!" You giggled.

He smiled against your skin. Pressing harder against your ass.

"Seriously Eddie. I'm gonna burn the meat or get burned."

He suddenly grabbed your hip and pulled you away from the stove. He quickly turned it off and returned his attention to you. You had put your hands on the edge of the counter to balance yourself as he took off your shorts. Once you were out of them he pulled your hips back so that you were bent over a bit. You threw your head back and moaned when he slid his fingers inside you. 

Eddie was so hard he couldn't wait to be inside you. With his free hand he quickly undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants. Pulling them down and letting them fall to his ankles. He removed his fingers from you and spread your wetness over his rock hard cock. He moved your legs further apart then slowly began to fuck you. 

" Such a good fucking pussy." He groaned.

" Mmmm such a good cock….so pretty…and thick." 

He smirked at your words. He remembered when you started talking during sex. It was easily in the top 3 of the best times with you. 

Eddie reached around and started rubbing lazy circles around your clit. Before he knew it you went quiet like you did every time you came. Your perfect pussy hugged him pulling out his cum. He immediately pulled out and stroked himself until he came on your ass. When he was finished he grabbed a paper towel and cleaned you up. He pulled up his jeans and helped you put on your shorts.

When you turned around you were in a blissful state. He moved to brush your hair behind your ear. He looked deep into your eyes. He leaned in to kiss you, but you moved and gave him a kiss on the cheek. 

You went back to the stove. " Why don't you take a shower and I'll finish up dinner."

Eddie stared at you. His heart was telling him to confess. But he knew if he did, he would ruin everything.

Instead of saying anything he went to shower. 

…

The moment things changed for you, was when Eddie said that he loved you one night. He was a bit drunk and so were you. It all started a week after he tried to kiss you. See, though you wanted to kiss him, that would make things a hell of a lot more complicated. You should have known better to have sex with your best friend. But after the first time, you didn't want anyone else but him. 

So the following Tuesday you had to ask for the night off so you could surprise Eddie and the guys with a cake. Congratulating them on their 200th show. For just over 4 years Corroded Coffin had been playing at the Hideout every Tuesday. You never got to see them in action before. Only in Gareth's garage. So what a perfect time to see them. You knew Eddie would be happy. He had begged you for a whole year to go. But things never happened. 

You were so looking forward to seeing him. And tonight was going to be different. You knew you guys were gonna end up hooking up again. But this time was gonna be different. You knew it was.

And you would be right. Just not in the way you expected. 

When you got to the bar you sat at the counter, with the cake next to you. You smiled up at the stage when your friends came out. Eddie looked so good, he had you squirming in your stool. He hadn't seen you yet which was perfect. You had asked the bartender for a knife and he obliged. 

The show was just about over and you went to the back room and waited for the guys. But when they finally came there was some random chick hanging on Eddie. You didn't look at him when he approached you. You just faked a smile.

" Ummm surprise." You said trying to not cry.

" Sunshine! What?" 

Eddie and the guys looked at the cake and all gave you a hug, thank you. The hot thin redhead tried to wrap her arms around Eddie's neck but he pushed her arms away and went to hug you.

But before he could you turned around and started cutting pieces of cake. When Eddie followed, you asked without looking at him if he could get you a drink. Something strong. He agreed and when he came back the redhead was gone. You guys exchanged drinks and cake. You went to sit down with Gareth and started talking to him like if Eddie wasn't there burning a hole in the side of your face with his eyes.

You pounded the drink trying your best to not look at Eddie. Because if you did it would break your heart. Knowing that you and him would never be more than just friends.

As the night went on the drinking continued at home. Eddie was drinking his blue ribbon while you had rum and coke. After a few drinks you were feeling really good. You went to the radio and turned it on. Then you started dancing. Eddie sat on the couch and watched your wide hips sway. When you caught his eye you smiled and motioned him to dance with you. 

Eddie finished his beer and went to you. You grabbed his hands and rocked him side to side. He chuckled and spun you around. You lost your balance for a second. But he pulled you into his arms. You threw back your head and giggled, making him laugh even more. When you finally stopped laughing you looked at him. He looked back and forth between your eyes. 

"Can I-" he tried to ask if he could kiss you but you grabbed his hand and pulled him into your room. You quickly got undressed then went to him and helped him out of his clothes. Once he was completely naked you led him to your bed and had him sit down while you got on your knees and started licking and sucking his cock. 

Eddie's hand went to the back of your head watching your cheeks hollowing around him. He moaned, feeling the back of your throat. 

"J-jesus!"

You hummed and massaged his balls. You bobbed and stroked him for a few minutes before he wanted to feel you.

" Ride me."

You let go of him and gave him a look. This would be the first time you did this. 

" Common sunshine. You can do it."

You nodded and he helped you stand. He moved back and laid down while you grabbed a condom. After sliding it down his thick long cock you went to straddle him. With your hands on his chest you spread your legs wide so that your thick thighs could open enough for him. Once you did he grabbed his length and found your core. 

He grunted feeling your warmth surrounding him. You returned his moans with gasps. With one hand on your hip and the other on your breast you began rocking. 

This felt so good. It felt like it was supposed to have happened all along. The whole time you rode him your eyes were closed and Eddie wished you would just look at him and see how much he was in love with you. And as if you read his mind you opened your eyes and stared at him. There was this moment of awkwardness and it looked like you were gonna cry. Without hesitation he sat up and wrapped his arms around your waist. As you rocked faster you said something that he'd been dying to do for months.

" Kiss me." you whispered

Your voice was small and so soft. He thought he imagined it. He then cupped your face. And for the first time since this started you didn't move away. He kissed you with everything he had. And by all the gods it felt amazing. So much so that both you and he stopped moving and just kissed each other. It was so perfect and beautiful that he started to tear up. You started moving again about a minute later. Only this time you went slow. This was no longer just fucking to cum. This was making love. Something that he never really did before. To him it was incredible. It was for you too. But for you it felt like it was the last time you were gonna do this. It felt like a goodbye. Like this friends with benefits thing had finally come to an end. And it broke your heart. How could you go back to being just friends when all you wanted to do was be in his arms? To be the only girl he touched like this. To be the only one who made him feel good. 

You had to stop. Because of these feelings. Feelings that should have never happened. 

You kissed him until you were close. 

"Eddie." You whimpered into his mouth.

" I feel it. Go ahead…I'm coming too." 

He pulled you back into a deep kiss before he felt you clench and soak him while he exploded into the condom.

That night he fell asleep with you. As he spooned you he buried his nose in your hair and moaned softly. He whispered three little words that made you silently cry because you knew that it didn't mean anything. You whispered them back but also added 'I wish we never did this'.

…

Two weeks went by and for some reason Eddie barely saw you. You had switch shifts so that you worked opposite of him and you picked up extra hours saying something about buying a car. Which he didn't understand because you could take his van whenever you wanted. 

Eddie missed you. His heart started to ache when he wasn't able to talk to you like he used to. It felt like a piece of him was missing. So he decided to ask you to come with him to a party this upcoming weekend.

You just got off of work and he was just about to leave when you guys had a minute together.

He smiled " Hey sunshine." 

You gave him a small thin lip one. " Hey."

He felt the tension.

" So uhhh listen. There's this party tomorrow." 

You put your stuff down and went to the fridge and pulled out a beer.

" Umm do you want to go…with me?"

You turned and looked at him. He swore you never looked so beautiful.

" Will there be alcohol?"

He smirked. " Tons."

You nodded, taking a swig of your drink. 

" Great! Umm well I got to go. I'll see you later."

He was going to hug you but you held up your hand waving him goodbye taking another drink and headed to your room.

He wanted to not go to work. What he really wanted was to follow you. To kiss and hug you. Make love to you all day. But, he chose to wait.

He said a silent "I love you' and went about his day.

The next night he was waiting for you to come out of the bathroom, so that you guys could go. When you did, you were wearing the cutest sundress and sandals. You gave him a smile and grabbed your purse.

" You look…wow."

You giggled a little and playful pushed him. " Common Eddie. Let's go get drunk."

He quickly opened the door for you and you pushed him again. He grinned watching your wide hips and perfectly big ass sway in the dress. He jogged to open the passenger door. You smiled again and got in. 

Once at the party you immediately separated from him. He looked everywhere but it was like you just disappeared. About 15 minutes in he went outside to hit up the keg. That's when he was bum rushed by the girl he met at the Hideout. She threw her arms around his neck and planted a harsh slobbered kiss on his mouth. 

When you saw that you looked away and tried to focus your sight on something else. Everything Steve Harrington said to you went in one ear and out the other. When you got to the party all you wanted to do was hide in the bathroom and drink. But on the way there you ran into the very handsome Steve " the hair" Harrington. He accidentally spilled his drink on your shirt when he came out of the restroom. He apologized profusely and offered you a dry shirt. The awkward silence that followed was damn near impossible to stand. Steve knew that uncomfortability right away. His older sister had insecurities about her weight as well. Without another word he grabbed your hand and led you to a room and rummaged through his sister's dresser. He pulled out a few options and turned around to give you your privacy so that you can change.

Now you were having a wonderful conversation with him in his backyard. Then you saw Eddie kiss that girl from the bar. It was in that moment you knew, you loved your best friend. But you would never be his. And though it tore you to pieces you faked a smile and started the conversation back up with Steve. For the most part it was innocent enough. Until Steve leaned in and put an arm around your shoulders while Robin Buckley and her girlfriend joined the conversation. What possessed you to lean into Steve had you at a loss. Maybe it was coming to the realization you could never have your best friend the way you've been wanting him had finally caught up to you. Or maybe it was because Steve was handsome and charming. Either way you flirted back so hard that if you replayed the night again and watched from an outside perspective you would cringe like no other. 

Which was what Eddie did. After the chick kissed him he pushed her away and just shook his head. " Look, I'm here with someone. And if she sees you talking to me, we're both dead." 

The girl scoffed and walked away. Well more like stubbled away. He again shook his head and watched her disappear into the house. When his eyes scanned the backyard he saw you. And to his surprise, you were flirting. Like flirting flirting. With Harrington of all people.

Eddie squeezed his red solo cup, spilling his fresh beer all over his jacket when he saw that dick put his arm around you. Eddie's heart started to race and his thoughts went bezerk. He wanted to march right up to you, punch Steve square in the jaw and take you home and punish you for flirting. But then you leaned into him. You did that thing you do with your hair. You were never really a girly girl, which Eddie loved about you. But you did this thing where you would twirl your hair around your finger when you were thinking about something sexual. That's how Eddie knew when you needed a good fucking. It was your subconscious signal to him. Now you were doing it for Steve. That's when he saw red. He…was…furious. He tossed his cup and walked towards you. He took a few deep breaths to calm down so that he didn't cause a scene. Even though he really wanted to cause a mother fucking scene. 

" Sunshine?!"

When you looked over to him you immediately knew he was pissed. You quickly pulled out of Steve's reach and grabbed Eddie's arm.

" What happened bud?"

You studied his jacket and shook your head.

" Eddie, the alcohol is going to ruin your jacket."

" Can we go?" He asked.

You nodded and said bye to everyone.

Once at home you were in the kitchen making some soapy water to clean his jacket. Eddie was on edge. He was about to do something that you guys never did before. You were mid cleaning when he grabbed your hand and pulled you to his room.

" Eddie?"

" Be quiet. And take off your clothes."

Your eyes went wide. " W-what?"

Eddie tore off his clothes and started to undress you.

" Eddie?"

He met your eyes and you just knew. Things were about to get intense.

Once you were naked he stepped back and stared at your beautiful luscious body.

" So fuck sexy." He said in a lustful deep tone that shook you to your core. " Hands together."

You swallowed and brought your wrist together. He reached over to his head board and grabbed his handcuffs. Snapping the cold metal around your wrists. He pushed you on the bed and lifted your arms above your head and hooked the cuffs to the board. After he looked at you and got so close to your face.

" I'm gonna fuck you until the thought of being with anyone else is out of your head."

You tried to say something but he stopped you by kissing you roughly. His tongue swirled in your mouth and his big rough hands grabbed you everywhere. You moaned against his lips when his fingers slipped through your folds and started rubbing figure eights around your clit. 

" So wet for me sunshine."

" Mmmm" you hummed.

" Does anyone else get you this wet?"

His question seemed more like a statement than a question. And before you could answer he slipped two fingers in your warmth. Pumping steadily. You arched your back pressing your ample breast against his flexed chest.

" Mmm yeah sunshine? Like my fingers in you?"

It felt so good that you couldn't say anything. You just whimpered and nodded. 

" Such a good fucking girl. A good little slut….just for me."

His words were driving you crazy. He never said anything like this before. But by God did you love it.

He started pumping hard and adding a come hither motion with his fingers, teasing you g-spot. While moaning his name, Eddie took one of your tits in his mouth. Tugging at your nipple. You threw your head back and cursed. Eddie smirked to himself. 

" That's right…only I know how to get you to cum so fast."

You whined and squirmed. Feeling your release come. And just before you did Eddie moved down your body, removing his fingers and replacing them with his tongue. He thumbed at your clit and lapped up your wetness. This release was brief, but it felt so good doing it on his tongue. You were panting trying to get your bearings when he flipped you over and pulled at your hips to get you to your knees.

" Scoot up" he ordered.

You moved up a little and grabbed a hold of the long chain hanging from the cuffs.

" That's it. Such a good girl."

Eddie stroked your ass and gave you a tap. You gasped at the tiggle it left behind. 

" Think you can flirt with other guys in front of me?"

He tapped your ass again. Harder this time causing you to whimper.

" E-eddie?"

" Sunshine…I'm gonna fuck you now. And I'm not gonna wear a condom."

You were quiet for a second until he smacked your ass again.

" Oh-okay."

Eddie grabbed his cock and moved it through your folds. Spreading your slick all over him. He eased in slowly until he bottomed out. His eyes rolled back feeling your cunt pulsating around him. Fitting him like a glove. You whined when you wanted him to move and he smirked. His hand went down your back and wrapped in your hair. His thrusts were hard and slow. Once he found your spot he set a steady pace and your breath sighs and moans got louder. 

" Yessss. Fuuu….take it…yeah take this fucking cock like the good little slut you are."

" Eddieeee."

" Yeah…say my name…."

" Ed-ed-"

" Damn sunshine. You're taking me so well. Love your pussy…such a good fucking pussy."

Eddie looked down and watched his cock going in and out of you. With your tight walls slightly following his dick as he pulled out a little. 

" This is mine. Baby this perfect pussy is mine."

" Oh Eddie….I'm gonna-"

" I know….ugh….feel it….you want me to cum in you or pull out?"

You didn't even take a second to think before you answered.

" Cum in me…fill me up."

Eddie was shocked. But to be honest he'd been wanting this forever.

" Yeah?"

"Y-yes ed-eddie…please!"

" You want it? You want me to fuck a baby into you?"

Your eyes rolled back and the thought of having Eddie's baby did it for you. All you could do was whimper a small yes. With that, Eddie came long and hard into you. 

When he was finished draining he pulled out and uncuffed you. Your body went slack and you practically fell on the bed panting. Eddie was trying to catch his breath too and he laid down next to you. He grabbed your wrist and kissed them gently.

" You okay sunshine?"

" Mmhmm…so good."

Eddie grinned. " I'll be right back."

Eddie returned with a warm washcloth and a Gatorade. He gave you the drink and cleaned between your legs before cleaning himself. He left again to grab you a shirt and panties from your room. He put on a pair of plaid boxers. You handed him the Gatorade and got dressed too. Once you were clothed you went to the linen closet and pulled out new sheets for his bed. This had become kind of a force of habit. You would always leave a wet spot on his bed after. So not wanting him to sleep on that, even though he would love it. You changed his sheets. Eddie had already taken off the previous ones when you went back and began helping you put the fresh ones on. Once his bed was made you started for the door to head to your room. But Eddie grabbed your hand.

" Sleep with me sunshine."

You hesitated for a second. But nodded. You both laid there looking up at the ceiling. Another first when it came to the weird relationship. You never slept with him after well just once before. But after that time you made sure to never do it again. You started getting in your head about him and that girl. But Eddie was about to make you forget all about her.

As Eddie laid there he was debating with himself on what he would say. There was a lot that just went on and he wanted to address every single thing. But the first thing he was going to bring up was him and you.

" Don't do that again."

You turned your head to look at him. He was still staring up at the ceiling. Confused on what you did wrong, you asked.

" Do what Eddie?"

He looked at you with his serious face that always made you laugh. Except this time. You were worried that you fucked up somehow and now he was pissed off at you.

" Flirt with other guys." Eddie saw you furrow your brow and realized he needed to be more clear. " We're together okay. So don't flirt with other guys."

You blinked a few times before you answered.

" O-oh…umm sorry. I-I didn't know."

" Well now you do."

You smiled to yourself. We're together.

Eddie then pulled you into his arms and gave you a quick but very passionate kiss. 

" Sleep in here from now on, yeah?"

You nodded. But then the thought of that girl came and ruined your brief moment of bliss.

" Eddie, what about that girl?"

He smiled seeing the little look in your eye he knew all too well that was jealousy.

" Sunshine, I'm yours. Always have been and always will be."

" Promise?"

" Promise promise baby."

You said a small okay and snuggled closer to him. Out of nowhere you started to giggle.

Eddie lifted his head to look at you. " What's so funny, chuckles?"

" I'm sorry…but 'fuck a baby into you'."

Eddie smirked. " Yeah so?"

" Oh it's nothing…it's just…I'm on the pill."

Eddie sat up and stared down at you. " You're telling me all this time I could have done that without a condom?"

" Well it is for your protection and mine."

" Sunshine, I haven't been with anyone but you since we started doing this."

You looked up at him with big eyes. " Really?"

" Yeah duh. All this time I just wanted you."

You looked away and smiled. " Me too."

Eddie laid back down and cuddled with you again. After a few minutes he cleared his throat." Uhhh can we do that again?"

" Right now?" 

"Yes please."

You laughed. " Only if we can use the handcuffs again."

"Shit...yeah definitely."

You laughed again and quickly took off your panties. " Let's do this."

Eddie chuckled and grabbed his cuffs. Before he put them on he kissed you. When he pulled away he looked you deep in the eyes and smiled.

" I love you sunshine." 

You smiled. " Love you too."

…

@salenorona23

[tricornonthecob]

Will someone please get this boy a Xanax

Felicity Steals An Entire Fucking Horse: The Movie (2005)

pt1 pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt6 pt7 pt8 pt9

"Jesus Christ why do I keep doing this fuck fuck fuck fuck"

Mom-Friend Ben is having his daily aneurysm a little early today

Yes its supposed to make him look slovenly and he's a dickhead but if his shirt were clean, this is just the Slutty Historical Novel look.

you know maybe if your first interaction of the day wasn't immediate and unprovoked violence, the horse might be more inclined to working with you and then you wouldn't have such awful buyer's remorse.

Finally, a task that Ferrari was actually bred for!

You ought to be more mindful of the chaotic good and lawful neutrals hanging out in your weed gardens before you go yelling things like that, Nye.

"No, Felicity, I was trying to not die."

The Ben/Felicity ship dynamic is The Anxious One That Survives To At Least Act 3 Of A Horror Movie and Absolutely Zero Self-Preservation Instincts. Also girl what the fuck is going on with your bangs.

"Girl what the fuck are you talking about that's a domestic animal that wasn't even feral"

Yes, that's a valid point and an important Life Lesson, but I feel like there's a better and more immediate way of introducing to her the concept of Consequences In Horse Theft. Such as "Hey did you know this is the 18th century and what you're doing looks exactly like Horse Theftin' and the punishment for Horse Theftin' is probably death by hanging hahahahahahaha I knew."

Also like, can you image. "I disguised myself in your clothes so I could trespass and steal a horse, then brought you to the scene of my doings instead of just telling you outright, potentially implicating you in crimes punishable by death."

...Felicity did you not just see the horse run away. Did you hear the part about "Give the horse to anyone who can ride her" and stop listening to all the parts about him saying "never come back," she's probably safe from that rn.

"Neither are all the people your family enslave, but that's another story."

That is the look of "...I really. REALLY. Don't have the stomach to be the punishable-by-death crime secret keeper."

And that is the look of "Oh, Goddammit, I'm about to be the punishable-by-death crime secret keeper, aren't I."

"Go down to the creek and buy it off the Dutch pirates!"

what the fuck is she huffing.

wow way to interrupt an outrageously shippable moment. Christ this really is the superior ship.

Annabelle you do realize adding "Forbidden Romance" elements to the ship only makes it stronger.

Felicity I love you but your ADHD-ass is so dense sometimes.

"We are going to die on this hill with all the social awareness of a bitchy potato."

She's a loyalist to you.

When the fourth graders debate politics on the playground and it gets dramatic.

she's either highly amused, screaming internally, or a little day drunk. Maybe all three!

awwww the loyalty themes!

"Bitsy!"

"Oi, fuck off, yeah?"

[ktwritesstuff]

The Babysitter (a Last of Us fic) pt. 7

Title: The Babysitter Fandom: The Last of Us Rating: Mature Characters & Pairings: Joel Miller x Reader Word Count: ~1,900 Summary: The inevitable storm

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 (below cut) | Part 8

Fall

You woke alone one morning.  The air was cool and crisp without the warmth of Joel’s body in the bed beside you as your nose was assaulted by the most horrific smell.  You wrapped yourself in a blanket and wandered out to the front room where Tommy and Joel were preparing a simple breakfast.

“What on earth is that stench?”  You covered your nose with the blanket.

Tommy and Joel exchanged confused looks.

“The oatmeal?” Joel said skeptically.

You sniffed the air, following your nose closer and closer to the wood burning stove.  You sniffed the pot of oatmeal, then lifted the lid of the stovetop percolator.

“Oh my god, that’s disgusting,” you said, backing away from the horrid smell.

“What are you talking about?”  Joel grumbled, rising from the chair to examine the pot.  “It’s coffee.”  

“Are you sure it’s not rancid,” you warned.  

It was a serious accusation.  You had tried to persuade him to try the bitter tea you made with weeds from the garden, but Joel would accept no substitute.  He was very proud of the coffee beans he had managed to trade for on his last trip to Richmond and hoarded them like gold. 

“Smells fine,” Joel said while you yanked on one of the half-stuck window panes, eager to get some fresh air.

You locked eyes with Tommy from across the room as he looked you over appraisingly.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Tommy said.

“What?” Joel said, replacing the lid on the coffee pot protectively.

“She’s fucking pregnant!”

“What?” you forced a laugh.  “No.  No way.”

Sure, your jeans had gotten a little tight, but that was easily explained by the fact that you were finally eating better and your body was eager to restore some weight.   

“Are you sure?” Joel asked, the color had drained from his face.  

“I think so,” you stammered.

You could see him doing the mental math.  You tried to be careful, but condoms were hard to come by and Joel wasn’t as young as he once was.  He didn’t always have the most accurate assessment of his staying power. 

“When was the last time you,” Joel swallowed and you watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat.  “You know–” He gestured vaguely toward your crotch, unable to conjure the word.  

You had to think back.  You had certainly spotted for a few days here and there, but a bona fide period?

“Maybe three…four months,” the implication sinking in as you said the words out loud.

Could you really be entering the second trimester?  You thought you would have noticed something was happening by now.  When you first got to Virginia you had been so sick, maybe it had masked the early symptoms.  At three months your unborn baby had a tiny heart and lungs, hands and feet, you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of a little life taking shape inside you.    

“Jesus.”  Joel sank into one of the kitchen chairs as Tommy paced the room.  

It was a bit of a shock and you felt guilty for not realizing it sooner.  You worried that the occasional shot of corn whiskey you took when you had trouble sleeping could have hurt the baby.  You had always wanted to be a mom.  Not like this, of course, but this was the only life you were ever going to get.  You had a home, a garden, you were doing a hell of a lot better than most.  You didn’t feel scared; you felt peaceful.

“Are you happy?” Tommy shouted, tearing you out of your reverie.  “Are you fucking happy, now?”  

“Tommy,” you said sternly, Joel still too stunned to reply.

“You’re a goddamn idiot, you know that, Joel,” Tommy continued.  “What happened to Sarah wasn’t your fault, but this sure as hell is.  You fucking killed her, Joel.  That’s on you.”

“Tommy!” You shrieked.  “That is not fair!”

“You two want to play happy family, that’s fine,” he snapped at you, grabbing for the rifle at the door.  “I’m out of here.”  

“Tommy!”  

You shed your wooly blanket in favor of one of the heavy flannels in the laundry basket on the table and pulled on your boots at the door to race after Tommy.  He was already half-way up the hillside when you caught up to him.

“Don’t you run away from me!” you called, struggling to keep up.  “You were way out of line back there.”

“I’m the one who’s out of line?”  Tommy stopped in his tracks and turned on you.  

“You’ve got no right to talk to Joel like that,” you said, panting with exertion.  “You think I didn’t know this could happen?  I said yes.  I was terrified of what would happen if I didn’t.  But it was my choice.  If you want to be mad at someone, be mad at me.”

“I am responsible for you, Sweetpea,” Tommy said.  “Don’t you dare say I’m not.  I’ve been responsible for you since the day I put you in the back of my truck.”  

Tommy raked one hand down his face in agitation as you stood in stunned silence.   

“My whole life, I’ve made the wrong choice,” he said.  “I wanted to be a hero, but all I did was make things worse.  But not with you.  You were the one good thing I’ve ever done.  If anything happens to you…”

You had come to see Tommy as the protective older brother you had always dreamed of when things got bad at home.  You were the older sister, you had to be the responsible one, but all you wanted was someone who looked out for you, who was always on your side.  You hadn’t realized Tommy saw you in a similar light–the younger brother eager to prove himself, yearning for someone to look up to him.

“Nothing is going to happen to me,” you said, reaching for his hand.  “Tommy.  There’s a lot I can’t do.  I’m not a fighter or a hunter, but I can do this.  I can be a mom.  I know it won’t be easy, but it’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

“Shit,” Tommy breathed, leaning against a nearby oak.

Tommy stood there quietly for a long moment.  You marveled at how much he had changed.  Whereas Joel had changed all at once, in one horrible, awful moment, Tommy had matured over the years from the volatile hothead to the steady, protective man who stood with you today.

“Come back to the house,” you urged.

“Not yet,” Tommy said.  “I’m too angry.  I’ll just say something I’ll regret.  You go on, I’ll watch you get down the hill.”  

You could feel something inside you shifting as well, like a caterpillar spinning its chrysalis, preparing for a new life.  You weren’t a child anymore.  You were learning the skills you had a talent for: foraging and gardening, fixing and mending.  You weren’t squeamish–whether it was butchering or stitching up a wound–that was important. You were going to be a mother.

“Just be careful.”  It was beginning to get darker earlier, and although you all knew the mountain well enough by now, you still had to be careful about straying too far from home after nightfall.  

By the time you made it back to the house, Joel was dressed and had a bag packed, the coffee still on the stove now smelled more burnt than sour and you knew it was serious.  

“Where are you going?” you asked, already exhausted from chasing down Tommy and in no mood to deal with the other Miller brother’s temper.

“Richmond, I guess,” Joel said, not meeting your eyes.  “Figure out how to get you un-pregnant.”  

“No.  Absolutely not.”  A wave of nausea washed over you.  “Not an option.”

“We don’t have an option, Sweetpea!  There’s no prenatal care out here, no hospitals–”  

“Women have been giving birth for thousands of years without hospitals–”

“And they died, Sweetpea.   You could die.  I’m not going to let that happen.”

As much as the preachers and politicians back home liked to rage about abortion, you had never quite bought that it was any of their business.  You didn’t like the idea of abortion, to you every child was a blessing, but you understood why some women made that decision.  The truth was, Joel and Tommy were right.  You could die.  In the very least you would suffer more than you cared to think about, but this was your baby and you weren’t giving them up without a fight.

“And what?  You think you’re gonna find a nice lady to hold my hand at Planned Parenthood?  You think I don’t know about the way the world is, but I’ve seen it, Joel.  It’s a hot wire and excruciating pain and infection and horror.  And I will be damned before I let anyone do that to me.” 

“You really want to bring a child into this world?  After–after what happened…”

When Joel finally turned to you, you couldn’t quite place the look on his face.  From the tone of his voice you thought he must be angry.  But he wasn’t angry, not really.  He was scared.  He was sad.  

“Joel.”

As angry as you were with him for even suggesting you throw away this God-given gift, you went to him, held your arms out to him and he leaned hard against you.  

“Shh,” you tried to sooth him, swaying from side to side.  He let you move him although he was so much bigger than you, so much stronger.  Right now he needed your strength and reassurance. 

“I can’t,” he held you tight.  You felt something wet against your cheek.  “I can’t…”

“I know,” you sighed.  

As much as you hurt from losing Sarah, you knew Joel hurt worse than you could imagine.  But this was the first time he had allowed you to really see his grief.  Perhaps it was the first time he had allowed himself to really feel it.  

“I think about her, too, every day,” you admitted.  “She should be here.  And it’s awful that she’s not.  It’s horrible and it’s wrong and I’m sorry.  I’m sorry for what you went through and I’m sorry I couldn’t protect her.  You’re her father, but it was my job to look after her, too.”

You could feel each of Joel’s fingers digging into the backs of your arms as he gripped you tighter.  It was the first time you had spoken aloud of that day, as if speaking it could possibly make it more real.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Joel said, the words coming out stilted and careful.  “Not your fault.”

You understood then that in his own way Joel did love you.  Maybe not the way you would have liked, or even in the way you thought you deserved, but it was something.  Right now that was enough.

“It’s nobody’s fault but the bastard who was so scared he had to shoot a little girl, and Tommy killed him so there’s noone left to blame beside ourselves,” you struggled to choke back your own tears long enough to get the words out. “It sucks.  It just sucks, but I think we have to forgive ourselves.  We have to have hope.”

This baby wouldn’t replace Sarah, how could they, but maybe it would start to fill the hole she had left in your lives.  A reason to keep going.

Baby's First Taglist: @stilllivindue2spite, @amethystwonders11, @teacupcollectorr, @jbaby2, @flyingmushroomsss, @boysddontcry, @cated18, @sunnycamm

[inazuman]

this is a beautiful brilliantly written fic. haunting and funny and poetic. your characterization of dottore is incredible, he feels truly multidimensional, especially w the way you bring in his discipline. i love the way you explore the dark feelings of both reader and dottore, and the dialogue w scaramouche. the constant references to religion and the questions it poses in this context are so so well done, i love the way you explore this so much

i love your writing very much so i will leave my comments under a cut because they are very long HAHA i went insane reading this and also so i don't spoil other people

"lost in a paradox without a clear path" ohmygod we are starting of so strong i'm already going insane THE SUMMARY IS ALR SO GOOD GOSH IS THIS A BOOK "He never makes mistakes and he is never wrong, so what he told you can’t possibly be a lie" oh i can feel the manipulation alr this is so crazy /aff it's like religious (tho ik that's alr in ur tags!) but i love the comparisons/implications to religions alr "They live in ambition and convenient, unlimited knowledge, far more valuable than a mere dream can be" beautifully written my god "he has you remember all of them should they decide to turn against him later" the way he uses us oh lord i love this. i feel like it's haunting from the start. like a sort of worship. very brilliant i am eating up every word "his words an epiphany and almost choir-like among the dullness of machinery. Warmth rises to your cheeks as you watch him engrossed in his work, lost in his own world" THE WAY you seep the affection in too ohhhh i love this so so much

"the sensitivity implant he’d put in you." WHAT HOLY SHIT is this foreshadowing omg the way reader reacts to him and makes sure not to make him more irritated, really gives off and shows that kind of abusive relationshp that they have. it's really giving show not tell and i think ur a really brilliant writer for that "Does he not trust you after all this time? (After all the steps he’d taken to keep your lips sealed and you completely, utterly his?)" -> their power play is so so good

the perspective of a god that's explored with scaramouche is fascinating AND THEN IT FLITS TO DOTTORE'S POV OF YOU OMGG HIS POSSESSIVENESS OVER US HOLY CRAP oh man the yandere... i love it i love your characterization of dottore, the way he sees art and science. i love the way you get into his head and peel him open for us like an onion and watching him slowly possibly fall in love with us too, in his own little wicked way, and his slow realization to it as well. it's just so so brilliantly done OOH HIS JEALOUSY TOWARDS SCARA??? AAA oh i LOVEE that for him and us hehe

"today the heavens have taken the victory" what a line. god that's stunning the line between love and divinity and the way you explore it... wow the tension that builds as you describe when he has his way w us LORDD I NEED TO BE HELD DOWN JESUS oh to be his pet... i love that there is like a clear flit in pov. i personally really value that kind of clear cutness in writing as i feel like it's hard to do (maybe those are just my feelings) and u do it very well in a way that still feels cohesive i already love reader and scaramouche's dynamic HAHA their dialogue is so funny to me

“A problem?” He huffs a sardonic laugh. “It’s right in front of me.” -> HAHAHA STOP I LOVE THIS something about dottore saying "poor thing" to us has me wanting to collapse on the floor aughhhhhafsdlfdjs i love dottore's control over his own reactions. i think that's very very interesting in a way i can't place right now. i just love the exploration of his discipline, it's giving psychopathic (i mean this clinically and with the acknowledgement of personality disorders, not as a buzzword like it's sometimes incorrectly used as in the media) and i think really adds dimension to his character "you don't need a god. you need me" HOLYYYYY scaramouche putting seeds of doubt in reader's mind omg it's driving me crazy

i love watching reader tear her own mind apart with the questions they're posed oh gosh the ending iS EQUALLY HAUNTING. WE WENT ALL THE WAY BACK AROUND TO HAUNTING OMG. hurt my heart in ways to see dottore forsake them, to see the way he brands them, to see the shame and guilt he forces onto them...

fic eats. thank you for sharing his

Can You Tell Me Who I Am?

You wonder if zealots ever find themselves in the same position as you: lost in a paradox without a clear path. When you look at him, you see salvation, but in that salvation, you also see ruin. The Doctor gives, and the Doctor takes away. You picture yourself kneeling before his feet and feel nothing, yet you can’t see yourself following anyone else but him. Then what are you supposed to be?

PAIRING: Dottore x Reader, minor Scaramouche & Reader

CONTENT: yandere Dottore | gender-neutral reader | human experimentation, unhealthy relationships, master/pet, emotional/psychological manipulation, conditioning, religious themes, implied sexual content, dom/sub undertones, canon divergent but spoilers for sumeru archon quest! Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. ( ~10k words )

NOTES: finally, after nearly two months, I can finally share what I've been brainrotting over :')))) is there a plot?? not really tbh the demons just won. this is disgustingly self-indulgent but I'd still like to dedicate this to @eanul-rambul and @hiperacid2 for sitting through my madman ramblings and making this story possible!! this can be read by itself, but if you'd like, the prequel/first part can be found here! much love, enjoy :3c // @houseofsolisoccasum

DARK CONTENT UNDER THE CUT | READ ON AO3

The people of Sumeru do not dream.

The Akasha terminals harvest it all from them to create a singular massive brain for the collective to take knowledge from. That was what the Doctor told you on your journey from Snezhnaya to the land of wisdom. As expected of him, he figures everything out without batting an eye. He never makes mistakes and he is never wrong, so what he told you can’t possibly be a lie.

A walk through the Akademiya confirms his initial findings as well. The people of Sumeru do not dream. They live in ambition and convenient, unlimited knowledge, far more valuable than a mere dream can be. It’s not your first time meeting such personalities. The longer you work with the Doctor, the more people you meet, including some of the Harbingers he doesn’t seem too particularly fond of. He seems to have a fondness for relying on your ability to judge a person. From their strengths to their weaknesses, he has you remember all of them should they decide to turn against him later.

Even if you don’t understand why he wants your insight (human emotions aren’t your area of expertise—very far from it, in fact), you have no reason not to trust him. It will become useful in the future, he said. You can do that for me, can’t you?

You can, and you will.

They say that dreaming is when the human mind becomes the most vivid. It’s where Sumeru’s knowledge all stems from: a collective mind of sorts, bountiful sciences for the academic mind to pursue. The Doctor was particularly interested in this system, so he’d taken the Akasha terminal you were given to study more closely. It wasn’t a request.

It also wasn’t something you were going to decline. It wouldn’t have made a difference regardless. With or without the terminal, just like the people of Sumeru, you do not dream. Your day ends with a period of nothingness before the new one begins and gives you a mission to complete, as per routine.

Still, you believe it is quite inconsistent with typical human behaviours you’ve observed. Every person has a dream, don’t they? Some dream of travelling the world and getting to adventure much like the golden-haired traveller and their flying companion. Some dream of a happy life for their families, and some dream of exacting revenge on certain people.

But you don’t. You don’t have a dream, though you suppose if you were ever asked about it, you’d say that it’s to serve the Doctor. It’s what you’re made for. You kill anyone he tells you to kill. You guard him from the shadows, ready to slit the throat of whoever dares lie to him. You follow every order and every whim because it is your duty—your ‘happiness,’ you think—to do so.

You always have, and you always will.

Your gaze flits over to the Doctor who stands before the giant automaton, the Shouki no Kami, that looms over him. Thanks to his insistence, the project has been progressing just as he’d like. You remember his crazed words when the idea came to him, his words an epiphany and almost choir-like among the dullness of machinery. Warmth rises to your cheeks as you watch him engrossed in his work, lost in his own world. It’s a sight that’s familiar to you, a constant in each day you spend with him.

How strange, you think. This must be the sensitivity implant he’d put in you. Not too long ago, he had expressed his interest in your responses to foreign stimuli. You weren’t made aware of when he would put it into motion, so this is entirely new. Is this what people refer to as fondness? To feel nothing but a semblance of joy when you watch someone close to you?

You try not to dwell on it and return to the task at hand. The Doctor had stationed you by the entrance to the workshop, close enough to reach when needed and not too close to disturb him. Ready to be at his beck and call, just where he likes you.

It’s quiet in the workshop save for the dull whirring of the cogs and wheels overhead. It almost fascinates you how such dreariness can exist in a lush and vibrant place like Sumeru City. The workshop, despite its hollow grandness, doesn’t seem like an optimal place to be productive. You find that it’s not that different from his laboratory back at Zapolyarny Palace. There, the windows show you nothing but snow and frost. Here, all you see is metal on every corner, drab and colourless unlike the city and its lush outskirts.

You suppose the Doctor is simply not like other people. He doesn’t need to feel the sunlight to have a change of mood. He doesn’t share their composition, either; this much you know thanks to the nights where he’d lay himself bare for your recalibration. It’s one of many secrets you keep for him.

Something hits the floor with a loud clang, making you snap out of your reverie. Right, you have a job to do. He hates it when people zone out. His patience has been running thin to begin with thanks to the ‘tedious and menial’ conversations he’s had to have with other researchers. Aggravating him further is nowhere near the decision you must choose to make.

While you always do as he says without question, doing nothing proves to be possibly the most arduous task you’ve done. You don’t feel anxious or afraid—you can hardly feel anything at all, but you’re lost, so to speak. It’s out of routine and order to only be on standby.

“—Why don’t you escort the grand sage to safety?” His voice breaks the silence and echoes in the chamber, bringing you back to the present. “I unfortunately have my hands full and can’t see to it myself. Could you do that for me?”

There’s a lighthearted tone to his words. He must be excited to finally make use of the puppet he’s been working so hard on. In just a matter of a few seconds, the long-awaited plan is going to come to fruition and as always, you will be there to witness it.

“Of course, Doctor.”

(Anything.)

“Come back to me when you’re done. I’d like you to stay close in case any… complications occur.”

When you return, a couple of mechanics are tinkering away at the automaton. Finishing touches, you assume. You’re not entirely sure what the process entails. The Doctor hasn’t told you much about this project. All you’ve had so far is bits and pieces of information, namely how this is meant to be all for who the Doctor and his fellow Harbingers refer to as Scaramouche.

They’re a total anomaly, nonexistent in your memory, never seen and never known. You wonder if there’s a reason why you’ve never come face-to-face with it. He tends to tell you whatever’s on his mind, not seeking for you to be a conversationalist, but as an echo chamber. Maybe it’s his segments that know of this Scaramouche character.

While it’s not unusual for the Doctor to keep certain things from you, it raises questions that will go unanswered. Trust has always been an unspoken agreement between you and him. As his servant and his guard, his creation, there is nothing you won’t do for him. You’ll figure out a way to cut down every Archon alive if he so wishes it. But does he not share the same sentiment? Are you, ultimately, just another one of his disposables? Does he not trust you after all this time?

(After all the steps he’d taken to keep your lips sealed and you completely, utterly his?)

“I’ve called for the subject,” he says with a chuckle. “He’ll be arriving any moment now—”

“Let’s just get this over with,” comes a new voice you don’t recognise.

“Heh. You’re right on time.”

When you turn, you see a young man dressed in Inazuman clothes and a large hat adorned with gold and red threads. His face is twisted into a scowl that contradicts the softness of his features. His brows are furrowed as he glares at the Doctor in visible disdain. Nevertheless, he reminds you of ice and porcelain statues in Snezhnaya, carved for everlasting beauty and grandeur.

It is now that you realise that he is here—the new god himself in the flesh.

The missing puzzle piece, the sign of a new beginning. If that is who he’s meant to be, you believe that he will be fully revered without fail. If this is the one to worship at the altar, sacred offerings and prayers would be made day and night, pleading for their god’s wisdom.

With your constitution, your priorities do not lie in faith, but elsewhere: in recalibration and maintenance, in servitude and protection. There is much you don’t understand about religion, but is he not the very image of a being worthy of worship? An inexplicably beautiful, powerful being who holds the honour of succeeding their Greater Lord Rukkhadevata? A replacement for the Lesser Lord Kusanali, who is deemed beyond lesser in researchers’ eyes?

Scaramouche is cold and callous, but is that not how gods should be? Domineering, easily able to strike fear into their subjects? The fact holds as he stops beside you and gives you an irritated glance. Already is he regarding you, a stranger, with so much disdain, or something more malicious. You’re suddenly overly aware of your talons—sleek, black metallic, lethal—and the alarms ringing in your head. Accordingly, you deem him a threat to be kept under surveillance.

“This is your new pet project?” Scaramouche scoffs. “You’re declining, Dottore.��

As if he can feel you ready to act, the Doctor dissuades you by blocking you with his arm. A wordless warning. Despite finding it an unwise decision, you let your hands hang limply by your sides and return to your normal posture.

He’s right. He always is. Only he gets to decide who the enemy is. This Scaramouche is not an enemy, but evolution itself; something that transcends science and the mortal realm. You cannot ruin something he worked so hard for.

“I’m sorry, Doctor.”

“Perhaps you should wait for me to give you a command,” he says dryly. Though he appears to be smiling, you know better than to trust that his ire has fully dissipated. Clasping his hand on your shoulder, he nods at the other Harbinger. “This is my assistant, but let’s save the pleasantries for later, shall we? Go on, now.”

Steam rises from the surface as the metal plates of the automaton’s mask slide open. Although the automaton is only at half of its height, it encompasses nearly half of the room and casts a shadow in its wake. Scaramouche climbs into the cockpit with grace and agility, evidently familiar with the standard procedures.

You watch as the mask closes, sealing the sixth Harbinger inside. The Doctor patiently makes his way to the automaton with the Electro Gnosis held between his fingers. You hear chatter from the crowd behind you and murmurs that echo throughout the workshop, all in anticipation of what will take place soon. Not long after, he inserts the Gnosis in its rightful compartment and steps back.

Soon enough, Shouki no Kami comes to life. Electricity bursts in hues of amethyst and violet and sparks run across its surface. The insignia at its centre glows far brighter than anything you’d ever seen. You feel its strength with your eyes alone, as do your fellow witnesses. You realise now that you behold the birth of an almighty being, one ready to take fate into his own hands and overthrow the false god.

(You’ve never seen anything more beautiful.)

—

Dottore doesn’t play favourites, but if he were asked to pick a favourite thing about you, he would say without a doubt that it is your unquestioning compliance.

He’s fully aware that it’s how he encouraged you to be, but he’d be a fool if he didn’t acknowledge it. Trust is not earned so easily, even if years pass and one hasn’t wronged the other yet. Despite having sworn loyalty to the Tsaritsa and by extension Pierro, there isn’t a single member of the Fatui he’d trust with his projects.

But you, the one he made, the one he changed; you stand above them all.

It’s an entertaining sight indeed to see you fall and get back up time and time again with a new life, a new memory and the same ever-present constant: him. No matter what he puts you through, on the operating table or on dangerous missions, you trust him with your being. Your faith and loyalty are in his hands, binding you to him for as long as he’ll need you. Perhaps, in some way, you see him as more than your master. Feelings are fickle things and unimportant to him. Inquisitiveness and uncovering the world’s secrets are all he needs, but you—

You are a different variable.

You put your fragile life in his hands and let him keep you in his possession. You guard him like a loyal hound to the leader of its pack. Even if he can simply use his segments or remake you, it’s quite hard to imagine a life without you behind him. You’ve become a long-withstanding presence he can continue to study and rely on under the guise of diagnostics. No longer are you the meek little thing shyly watching him from the sidelines. No longer are you his benefactor who naïvely believed his lies about medical research and evolution. You’re an entirely new person, but one fact remains true all the same.

You are his, before and after ‘death.’

With you constantly dutifully close by, it hadn’t taken long for some of his fellow Harbingers to take an interest in you. It infuriates him to remember the wicked smile on Pantalone’s lips as he mentioned how much he was willing to spend on you. It’s worse to remember how Childe would tell you anecdotes of his travels in an attempt to convince you to join him. The memory never fails to make him huff in irritation every time it comes up.

How absolutely imbecilic. Is it not clear enough that you cannot be taken from him?

Dottore wasn’t always one to make rash decisions. He’s meticulous and calculated, sharp and precise. But to hear those idiots imply their desire for you made his blood boil for reasons unclear to him. There was no other way he could have dealt with the inexplicable rage surging in his veins or the warmth that bloomed in his chest. As long as you need him to live, and as long as your heart is locked behind a code only he knows, no one can take you away from him.

Since then, he’d given you another strict order. It was admittedly a selfish and conceivably unreasonable one that he made clear. You are not to interact with any of the Harbingers unless he is also present. It seems to have worked well for the most part. They don’t ask about you as much as they used to, as much as they are dying to know of your whereabouts.

It’s satisfactory enough. He can’t have you falling into less-than-capable hands. After tearing you down and putting you back together, there is zero chance he’s letting it all slip away. You know it fully well, too, that there is no other place for you to go except with him.

Unlike the average person, you lack innate desires and greed. With or without an incentive, you’d never leave him in favour of something or someone else. What reason would there be for you to do such a thing?

None.

You have never failed him. You can’t fail him, regardless of if the probability of success is slightly above zero. If you somehow deviate from your chosen path and escape him, finding you won’t be difficult. He has the agents to subdue you if necessary and the concoction to keep you pliant. While he’d prefer not to have a single blemish on you, it may be just the right choice with the right intention.

But there won’t come a day when he’d have to make that decision. You won’t fail him. As long as he has you in his grasp, you will never leave him. As long as he stays the subject of your fealty and the cause of your existence, you will never leave him. The reassurance alone is enough to ground him once again, his anger dissipating out of his mind like smoke in the wind.

Bringing you along to Sumeru was just another part of his routine. As far as he knows, you’ve never stepped foot outside Snezhnaya both in your past and present. He could practically see the cogs and wheels in your mind turning as you observed the horizon for reconnaissance. He wasn’t very keen on letting you become too curious, but for once, he’ll consider allowing it. It was fascinating, he thought, to see you try to mask your awe with apathy.

For the first time in years, you were human, and just a naïve little thing eager for adventure.

Dottore isn’t quite one for the arts. He can appreciate beauty where it’s done, even if the words of an artist matter very little to him. It’s too abstract, he finds. There is freedom in knowledge, but there is also discipline—something that artists lack in his eyes. Yet he wonders if the poets were right to liken their subject to a warm summer day. If seeing the glimmer in your eyes and your parted lips is how his mind interprets art to be.

(Are those worshippers right, in the end, when they swear ‘til death do us part’ to their lovers?)

He saw that wondrous expression again in the Joururi Workshop.

There was a lot to behold in those chambers: Shouki no Kami lighting up to life, the purple lightning streaks running across the surface. In the midst of it, all he could focus on was not the result of his success, but you. The face of an awed spectator, the face he’d see in the devout. He didn’t think too long about it, however. A sudden wave of annoyance crashed over him and so he took his eyes off you and back to his creation. He didn’t care how long you were in that flabbergasted state. He didn’t care for trivial things, he thought, albeit more bitterly than he’d anticipated.

There are a lot of things he could (and has) stripped you of. Your innate curiosity is not one of them. It’s not as if he could’ve stopped the questions in your mind from rising. He didn’t tell you much about the collaboration with the Akademiya. It wasn’t necessarily his intention to leave you in the dark about it, but when he thinks of your reverie again, he decides it was for the best.

Scaramouche is considerably more… sentient than you are, and Dottore is a careful man. The way you stared at that puppet was telling enough. The fewer interactions you have with him, the better. You picking up his opinions and attitude certainly isn’t ideal. Of course, he has a plan in case something like that were to happen, though he’d prefer not to use it.

He’s grown fond of the current you, after all.

Though a natural sceptic of fate and divine intervention, today the heavens have taken the victory. They mock him and laugh in his face, at his expense, as his beloved pet project grows fascinated with something else before his very eyes. As much as he hated to think of it, it was inevitable that you’d meet Scaramouche one day. Despite the other Harbinger having acknowledged you once (just to insult you, he thought indignantly), the more pressing matter at hand isn’t Scaramouche.

It is you.

He figures he’ll have to get you under control soon, if not now. Yet at the same time, the scholar in him questions. What would you think of the new ‘god’ from what you already know of devotion? What would you pray for at the altar in the throes of desperation?

Would you still look at him with the same loyalty and—dare he say it—love if your ‘heart’ lies in someone else’s hands?

He’s never been one to let his emotions take the reins. He leads himself with rationality and logic. Reason is a bigger priority than sentiment, he finds. And yet, he fully resents the implication of you finding someone else to belong to other than him. It is irrational to think of it. Keeping you in his clutches comes as easy as breathing does. With your body inside and out under his control, it leaves little to no reason for you to need somebody else.

As fun as it is to nudge you back in the right direction, he isn’t always as cruel as he seems. You’ve always been an inquisitive thing, which is why he has you record all of his musings and disorganised thoughts. You care about his work and you guard his laboratory in his absence like the perfect guard dog. Letting you wander about is relatively harmless, but he’d prefer to be able to keep his eyes on you.

The snowy mountains and frosted ground of Snezhnaya are all you know. In Sumeru, there is fauna and flora that you’ve never seen. Scaramouche is one of them. With him being a deviation from what little you truly know, it definitely wouldn’t take very long for you to develop some sort of fascination for him.

Were it someone he knew who wasn’t at all a threat, Dottore would’ve let it slide. He doesn’t find Scaramouche a threat per se, but the situation raises concerns regardless. As apathetic as you are to most occurrences, you won’t stay that way for long. What he saw on the journey to Sumeru is proof enough. After so many years, you could feel once more the wind in your hair as you breathed in the scent of the ocean. You could feel the sun’s rays warming your skin in ways Snezhnayan skies never have.

Contrary to what he’d initially told you, he never ‘took away’ your sensitivity or implanted a new one. All it took was small doses of anaesthesia and a new command—subdue anyone who lets their touch linger on you for too long. It worked for a while, but he decided to slowly lessen and eventually stop those doses. That was for your benefit as well. A new research question, one could say. How would someone unfeeling handle new sensations all at once? How touch-starved would you become?

Would you seek him out just like you used to?

Unfamiliar sensations inadvertently affect your mind, and you’ll learn once again what you crave more or desire less. He remembers the night you fully became his, all in mind, body and soul. How pliant you were and how you never ran away even when things became too much. How the most featherlight of touches would have you caving in, melting in his hold. He knows you like the back of his hand. He made sure that he would be the sole one who gets to be this close.

Yet for reasons he just can’t fathom, his plans of keeping you all to himself had gone awry.

Months have passed since the incident, and he finds himself equally infuriated thinking about how flustered you were when Childe dared to touch you. It was a minuscule gesture, not one you were unfamiliar with—a hand on the small of your back gently urging you in the direction you were supposed to go. For some reason unknown to him, it managed to fluster you somehow. Your eyes widened and you stumbled over your words, much to the younger Harbinger’s delight.

Incredibly irksome was what it was.

Dottore never denies that he is a selfish man. He won’t deny that he missed seeing your expressions from torture to bliss, either. Your reactivity was what he liked most about you. Here, he contemplates whether to put you under that treatment again. He doesn’t want to do it so soon, not when he wants to see it all coming back to you. Robotic and unfeeling is what people expect you to be, but what he misses is the vividness of your emotions—your fear, anger, sorrow, and joy.

“Isn’t it fascinating to discover something new? To feel something new?”

Yes, this is for your benefit and his. You’ll get to learn what it’s like to be a being of science, someone who dares to challenge the divine with pure knowledge. You’ll get to feel what you have lost, and he’ll get to watch as it changes you for the worse or the better. It doesn’t matter what the outcome is; you are ultimately his to own, his to toy with. This is just like any other experiment. It should be.

Regardless, it is hard to keep the annoyance at bay. It’s unclear how Scaramouche is going to interact with you. Between your endless patience (sometimes he wishes you’d just snap and show him what he’d missed these past years) and Scaramouche’s lack thereof, there is no clear vision of what will happen. It wouldn’t make sense to send you back to Snezhnaya so hastily, either. As far as he’s concerned, your presence is imperative, and who knows what’ll happen if he isn’t there to watch over you?

“Troublesome little pet,” he mutters. You’ve distracted him from his work again.

—

Pardis Dhyai tends to be a lively place. Scholars walk past each other at the plaza, some sit together on the grass and chat about what is on their minds. Crowds are hardly foreign to the Doctor, but he prefers to have his privacy. The more you visit here, the more you begin to think that you are the same way.

Today, however, the crowd is nowhere to be seen.

The indoor gardens are barren with only you as its visitor. No conversations can be heard in the background. Birds chirp a cheery tune beyond the forest and the running water flows in the fountain endlessly. You barely make a sound as you continue your exploration, observing the flowers you’ve never seen back in Snezhnaya. Hills of ice and snow hardly make a suitable environment for these florae, so it comes as no surprise that botany here surpasses home. It’s pleasing to the eyes, far more colourful than the glow of blue lights and drab walls you typically see.

The Doctor is busy in a meeting back at the Akademiya with the Grand Sage and a couple of other scholars. With the reasoning that it wasn’t something that required your attention, he’d given you permission to wander about as long as you returned before the meeting ended. It wasn’t an unreasonable request. Some of his matters are confidential, even to you who tend to be a witness to most. It doesn’t happen often, and when it does, you don’t find it an abnormality.

Still, much like that day in the workshop, doing nothing proves to be a most difficult task.

Despite the idyllic scenery that surrounds you, you feel hollow. Quite the oddity—you’ve always presumed that this is what romantics seek and what artists hope to immortalise on their canvases. Yet with the unfamiliar things spread throughout the room, nothing particularly strikes your fascination. Flowers are delicate little things and your fingers are razor sharp—you can’t touch them if you wanted to. A part of you is curious about what soft touches to the skin would feel like, touches that aren’t inspection or painful.

You stop yourself before you can reach out for one of the roses. You’d prefer not to end a life without reason. You solely harm and kill those who try to harm the Doctor in one way or another. Sometimes you’d bring them to him yourself and give him a new subject to test on. It depends on what he asks of you.

The bells above the door chime. You rise on alert, razors extending from your fingertips and ready to strike. As you whip your head around, you find that it’s not an assassin, but a subject you had met days prior.

Scaramouche stares at you with an unimpressed look that borders on disgust. “What trash heap did he pick you out of?”

“He did not pick me out of a trash heap,” you reply, suddenly irrationally irked. “I don’t have memories of when we met. All I know is that he saved my life.”

“And you believe him?” His brows knit together in visible annoyance. “The second of the Harbingers, spending his valuable resources on you? Don’t make me laugh.”

“I have no reason to doubt the Doctor.”

He scoffs. “You’re hopeless.”

After deciding that he doesn’t harbour any intention of hurting you, for now, your claws retract on their own. Not a word is spoken as you keep your gaze trained on him. He walks around the garden, seemingly deep in thought and regards you no more than a handful of times. He’s much different up close than he was back in the giant machine. Without the armour, he reminds you of the Doctor’s other segments; built flawlessly with a life to him that you can’t fathom yet.

“Dottore. Is he your god?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re kissing the ground he walks on. Is that how he trained you?”

It’s not something you’ve questioned a lot in your years of servitude. A master is a master and you are his pawn. What is there to be curious about?

“It’s the least I can do for him,” you answer after a pause. “Forgive my rudeness. I don’t see how this is any of your concern.”

His hostility raises your caution and you watch warily as he approaches you. You don’t break eye contact either, blankly staring at him until he speaks up again.

“Don’t you think?”

“I still fail to see why you’re asking me such trivialities.”

Though Scaramouche likely meant the question rhetorically, your curiosity is piqued nonetheless. You are capable of thought. You are capable of judgement, and you can see how someone is feeling just by observing them. What else could you possibly ‘think’ of?

You’ve always followed orders without hesitation. The Doctor’s time is valuable; if there’s anything you wish to know, you learn of it when you’re off duty. It isn’t a regular occurrence. He has you by his side at all times and gets irritable when you wander off. You aim to please him. You aim to be the best weapon in his arsenal, so you’ll follow him for as long as he’ll let you.

(Is that what ████ would have wanted?)

“Hey,” Scaramouche snaps. “I’m talking to you.”

You return the unimpressed look. “I was contemplating your question.”

“So?”

“I’m afraid I can’t give you an answer.”

“Figures.” He rolls his eyes, dropping the issue. “What are you doing here anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be his favourite pet?”

Pretending the jabs were never said, you decide that he’s at least harmless enough for you to be honest. “I’ve been dismissed for the time being.”

It’s hard to predict what he’s thinking. The expression on his features is unreadable and leaves a strange sensation trickling down the length of your spine. Heaviness tugs at where your heart should be. You remember now—this is what you felt when the Doctor expressed his disappointment in you. Scaramouche glowers at you for reasons unknown, arms crossed over his chest much like the petulant children you see on some journeys.

“Is there a problem?”

“A problem?” He huffs a sardonic laugh. “It’s right in front of me.”

This is irregular. You’ve been trained to handle every situation possible, but for the first time in a while, you’re at a standstill. Thousands of possibilities can come from this encounter. Violence is a part of them, but considering Scaramouche’s status, it is the very last on the list.

“I don’t understand you,” he says, exasperated. |You have your own life ahead of you, but you choose to serve someone who doesn’t bat an eye at you. And you can’t tell me why you do it.”

“It’s my purpose.”

“Is it really?” He gives you a once-over head to toe then clicks his tongue, deciding that he’d gotten what he wanted out of you. “Whatever. Don’t tell him you saw me.”

Scaramouche’s words shouldn’t matter. He doesn’t know you inside and out like the Doctor does. He hasn’t repaired you with his own hands. But his questioning continues to leave you unsettled, mind wandering in directions it hasn’t been before.

You’ve never thought much about life without the Doctor. Your soul already lies within him, found itself a home within his ribcage. Your subservience is voluntary. Even if the Doctor wasn’t your saviour, you would still see him as one. Even if you didn’t owe him your submission, you would still give it to him.

He is your saving grace, your maker, your one true companion. He’s all you have. For as long as he’ll allow it, you belong to him. You are his weapon. You are his subject. You are his toy. You are his, just as you’ve always been.

Scaramouche must be doing this to get under your skin, and you are but a fool who’s allowed it to happen. You keep your glare trained on him as he eventually fades into the distance, leaving you with more thoughts than ever.

Several hours pass before you’re back in the Akademiya. The hallways are crowded, much to your dismay, but you dutifully wait at the end for your Doctor to arrive. You’re unnoticed for the most part. Frantic mutterings and crazed discussions become white noise as you lean against the wall. Your eyelids flutter shut and a quiet sigh leaves your nose while restlessness slowly brews within your chest.

“Ah, there you are. Tired?”

You straighten up. “Doctor! I… I’m sorry.”

“Poor thing.” He smiles wryly. “Seems I’ve overworked you.”

“No, I’m alright, I was…”

“I jest,” he chuckles. “Well? Shall we go?”

The walk back to the laboratory is quiet. Your sharp glare scares off curious passers-by and scholars looking for small talk with the Doctor. Meetings with the sages always leave him in a sour mood; it’s for their benefit as much as it is for him, you think.

The lights turn on one by one and machines whir to life, filling the room with low buzzing sounds. You shift your weight from one foot to another, brows furrowing in thought. Your mind tells you to talk to him about Scaramouche, but is it the right time? It’s difficult to gauge his current mood. All you know is that the unease is similar to the last time he’d been in a meeting with the other Harbingers.

“I can hear you fidgeting,” he snaps. “Spit it out.”

As suspected, nothing ever gets past him. You heave out a sigh and regain your composure, not wanting to worsen his disposition. While he’s never had an explicit rule that forbade you from interacting with the other experiments, you wonder if your interaction with Scaramouche would be considered overstepping. The uncertainty of the consequences dawns on you, sending you into a state of inquietude.

“I met Scaramouche again today,” you admit, relenting. If this is forbidden, the Doctor may have mercy on you for the first offence you were unaware of.

Attempting to gauge his mood doesn’t yield much of a result, but there’s something in the air that borders on impatience and anger. His posture, however, is relaxed as he assesses the situation on his own. The atmosphere feels tense—as tense as those pesky Harbinger meetings he’s always complained about. You can’t read him like you can the others. He never lets any vulnerability show, not the smallest tell or twitch.

“I assume he had some things to say.”

You hesitate. “He asked if I had a god.”

The noises from whatever he’s tinkering with abruptly stop.

“And what did you tell him?”

“I couldn’t give him an answer.”

He exhales through his nose, his shoulders rising and falling with the heavy breath. “I see. Don’t indulge him next time… I’d prefer it if you stayed close to me or in the laboratory.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“One last thing, my dearest hound. You don’t need a god.” He peers over his shoulder, glancing through you from the corner of his eye. “You need me.”

—

Is he your god?

The question echoes in your head for days. It demands an answer each time the mysterious Balladeer crosses your mind. The books you read in your leisure hold no answer for you, either. Theories upon theories and centuries’ worth of history could not prepare you for the inquiry. As much information as you’ve gained, not a sliver of it helps you. If anything, more questions are raised—those of the mind and soul.

You’re well cognisant of the fact that you’re no longer human by definition, with some of your organs being synthetic. Your arms are not flesh but obsidian and the rarest metals, sharper than blades crafted by the best smiths. Cybernetics have been implanted into your eyes and your ears, enhancing your abilities as a living weapon.

But are you truly living? You follow the Doctor and sing his praises, but do you do it because you want to, or because he trained you to?

Is he your god?

The breathtaking view of the Shouki no Kami flashes before your eyes again. Everything spoken and written by the Doctor about the upcoming project echoes in your mind. Then, the image changes to those with the Doctor—him in your view as you lay pliant on the operating table, him inspecting your hands with a relaxed expression. You hear voices of the past. Voices that belong to him as they say how you were on the brink of death when he’d graciously saved you. You don’t remember anything before your ‘reawakening,’ so you trust him—they must be true.

You think again of the grandeur that resonated as Shouki no Kami stood tall in the chambers of the workshop. The violet sparks and the overwhelming awe you felt upon seeing it. He who wields the Electro Gnosis shall become stronger than anyone, strong enough to replace the previous god, and you may very well understand what the choir sings of.

If this is what Scaramouche can become—the Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom himself—he falls under the definition of a god. At the same time, so does your Doctor. His infinite knowledge, his ability to create life, and his outstanding achievements that put him on a pedestal higher than everyone else all make him perfect.

Archons and the Adepti have hymns and ceremonies dedicated to their sanctity. Statues built in their likeness stand tall throughout the lands of Teyvat. Art and literature are made of them and their legendary exploits. You believe Scaramouche will have poems and symphonies in his honour one day, but is the Doctor not worthy of the same? Is the man who bestowed upon you a new life, a new identity, not as great as the divines, if not better?

You stare ahead at the blueprints pinned on the corkboard. Scrawled notes and rough sketches of current and upcoming projects are scattered throughout the surface. If all goes well, he will allow you to witness their creation at his hands and his segments’. Anything he does is always a sight to behold.

You don’t need a god. You need me.

Your loyalty doesn’t lie with the Tsaritsa. It lies with the Doctor himself. Archons don’t have any meaning to you, and thus, they do not have your trust. The one altar you will offer yourself to is not any of theirs; it’s the table where the Doctor fixes you. You need me, he had said. He is right and he never lies—gods are nothing, but he is everything. You believe him wholeheartedly.

“Zoning out? Great job, you just got him killed.”

In a flash, your claws dig into the skin of Scaramouche’s throat as you move to pin him against your chest. He scoffs sarcastically but makes no move to wrangle free, going so far as to lay his head against your shoulder with a smirk.

“That’s better.”

“How did you get in here?” Your voice is stern, levelled. If this was any other person, their throat would already be slit without a second thought, but Scaramouche is important. An essential piece to the puzzle that will be the domination of Sumeru, living evidence that not only Archons can wield a Gnosis. Your jaw clenches. “The Doctor won’t be pleased about this. You need to leave.”

“There it is. The Doctor this, the Doctor that,” he sighs, “I can’t understand you at all.”

“You need to leave,” you repeat. “Or I will cut you down where you stand.”

“You won’t.” Scaramouche chuckles. “You can’t.”

Your hands are trembling and a burning sensation crawls up your neck, engulfing you in the flames of rage. You can feel it—the lightning and the storms, all brewing within the confines of your chest. Irritated, you loosen your grip and shove him away, making it a point to keep your blades unsheathed and pointed at his throat.

“Hm. Are you always this rude?”

“I almost believe you want me to hurt you,” you hiss.

He grins impishly. “Really?”

“Talk.”

“Fine,” he says with an exaggerated sigh. “Tell me, hound, have you ever experienced betrayal?”

Your brows furrow. “I don’t see how this is important.”

He shrugs. The gesture, albeit minuscule, makes visions of violence run through your mind, visions of bloodshed and mercilessness. Your hand does not waver from where it points at his jugular. Unfazed, he continues, “Don’t you think he’ll betray you one day?”

“I trust him,” you cut in. “Without question.”

With a bored expression, one akin to an impatient teacher, he softly swats your hand away from him. You don’t push back, though you stand guarded—using force remains an option.

“Dottore doesn’t need you. He already has his segments,” he drawls, pretending to check the dirt under his nails. “You’re only there as a toy.”

As irritated as you feel, something in the back of your mind tells you to listen to him.

It’s not that you’re unaware that you are a test subject. Because of your enhanced durability and patience, he often seeks you out for his experiments. You’ve had plenty of substances and chemicals injected into your bloodstream. You’ve been pushed to your limits until he deems it satisfactory. You bear all the pain he inflicts on you and you melt under his touch when he repairs you himself.

Your existence revolves around him. Your body does not belong to you—it belongs to him, and he shall do whatever he pleases with it. This is the life you’ve accepted. This is your pride. This is your ‘dream.’

But it doesn’t explain the weight upon your shoulders. The anxiety lodged in your throat, the numbness spreading across your skin, the chill trickling down your spine. The sense that there is something wrong, very wrong, but nothing points to anything. All the paths ahead of you lead to him. Where are the ones without him?

No matter. You don’t exist to think.

“I’m doing my role,” you say with finality.

It’s a response you have said many times, whether to attempted assassins or lesser agents, yet somehow, the words don’t feel like they’re yours. They’re automated, rehearsed. You shake it off. Routines aren’t out of the ordinary. Following a pattern is merely a part of what you do.

He scoffs. “Fool. You just don’t get it.”

You feel like you should. You feel that there is more weight to his words than he’s letting on, but you simply can’t see this from a new perspective. What you’re doing—how you live now—is enough, and the fulfilment that comes after the Doctor’s praise is something you always aim for.

They can call you whatever they want. His pet, his guard dog, his toy, none of it matters. The only person you listen to is the Doctor. Without him, you are nothing. Without him, you have no purpose.

Then what will you do without him? When he inevitably decides that you are no longer needed, that a replacement would suffice? Every image that comes after is out of your control. The Doctor isn’t afraid of discarding things he deems useless. Would he dismantle you, hide you away until he needs you again? Would he throw you into the same pile as all of his broken segments? Would he decide to dispose of you entirely, shutting down all of your systems and turning your world into a void?

An invisible knot lodges within your throat and your mouth goes dry, uncomfortably so. Sweat beads at the crown of your head and the tremors in your hands are becoming harder to hide. The room spins and renders your vision distorted. You purse your lips, doing your best to keep the instabilities in check. You cannot show weakness. Anyone can turn against you in the blink of an eye.

“Is that all?” you speak up after a beat of silence. The shakiness in your words is more audible than you anticipated. “I will ask you one more time. Leave.”

Scaramouche watches you with an unreadable expression before he thankfully does as demanded without further argument. Your chest feels tight as you glare daggers at the door, keeping your ears trained to hear if the footsteps are going quiet as they should be. The razors on your fingertips retract. It is over.

Shaking your head, you return to the task at hand, unaware of the blinking light in the corner of the room monitoring your every move.

—

The laboratory becomes less of a frequent sight as you are given more tasks to do.

No longer are you needed to wait on the Doctor hand and foot outside the conference room. No longer are you needed to guard him in the workshop. Your time is spent lurking in the shadows, waiting for the opportune time to strike. He has you stay so close yet so far away, demanding your presence one moment then dismissing you the next.

The aberration in routine is too drastic to ignore. You’ve begun to analyse him the same way you do with your kill targets, mentally cataloguing his every action in an attempt to discover a common factor. You broke down everything he said, trying to find any hidden meanings behind them, to see if he speaks to you in riddles. Just like the attempt to search for who you were, you found nothing.

Naturally, you concluded that he is hiding something from you. He’s more adamant about being left alone while he works on a little project. His segments are the ones carrying out the tasks you are usually assigned to. When you’re not on reconnaissance, you’re left with the chores. It’s not entirely unusual for him to command you without further explanation. The tasks are simple enough, but the sudden shift brings forth unwanted anxieties.

You wonder if this is a gateway to something worse. The dismissals and growing lack of conversation remind you of someone no longer interested in what they used to love. With the Doctor’s eccentricities to begin with, nothing aids the formation of a relevant hypothesis or predicts a pattern. Some nights you’d find yourself trying to pick out past mistakes, any errors you might’ve missed, only to be met with nothing. You’d feel strangely heated—upset—being reminded of the possibility that he has simply tired of you.

You’ve always given your all in what he asks of you. If he needs someone killed, you do it clean, untraceable and unsuspecting. If he needs you to retrieve something, you make it seem like what you’ve stolen has never left. You lay yourself on the operating table when he demands it, let him inject toxin upon toxin into your vessels. You’ve been the perfect puppet for as long as you can remember, but is it not enough for him? Does he want more from you?

Maybe it’s his current collaboration with the sages of the Akademiya that is making him neglect you. Shouki no Kami is no small feat and the Doctor is meticulous. He could be devoting more of his time to perfecting the project. A burst of jealousy clouds your mind at the thought. Surely a project he’s had for centuries will be more interesting and resourceful than what you can offer him.

And yet, his demeanour every time you come across him contradicts everything you’ve suspected. He hasn’t been behaving particularly strangely. His mood is still quick to change and his temperance with the other scholars is as turbulent as ever. He still wordlessly watches you complete his orders, fingers drumming against his arm as he’s deep in contemplation. There shouldn’t be room for suspicions, but there is, and the lingering unease has started to hinder your progress.

You come to realise that perhaps this is what he’s called you here for.

The room is eerily quiet as the Doctor leers at you from where he leans against the workbench. You’re kneeling before him, eyes cast on the ground while you wait for him to speak. You don’t remember the last time you failed him, much less trigger a change in his temper. Your mind races with possible punishments he could inflict on you. Would he isolate you from the rest of the world? Would he shut you down for days on end, waking you when he decides you’ve learnt your lesson?

A sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. You don’t have to see it to know his features are marred with ire, his lips pressed in a taut frown. The impatient tapping of his foot seems to accelerate your train of thought, sending tremors to your frame. His glare burns into you and suddenly you feel all too exposed, vulnerable, and it is here that you realise that you are afraid.

But the scolding you were preparing yourself for never happens.

Instead, you feel a cold and heavy object wrapping around your neck and locking with an audible click. With a gloved hand, he takes hold of your chin with a disturbingly gentle touch, tilting your head up to meet his. You feel his breaths quickening against your cheeks, excitement bubbling in his blood at the confused expression on your face.

“Just as I suspected,” he whispers, voice tinged in manic delight. “It suits you. But…”

Searing heat rushes around your neck and tears spring forth as you look up at him wide-eyed, lips parted in shock. Words die at the tip of your tongue, dissolving into nothing. Still, you don’t move or ask. You aren’t supposed to. Much like an obedient child, you sit and wait, even as you feel as though you’re going to collapse. The burn on your neck gradually wanes with time, the pain fading away but leaving behind a red trail in its wake.

He crouches down beside you and grazes his fingertips over the fresh wound, causing you to involuntarily wince. His glee is more than evident with how he holds your face in his hands and inspects you with pride.

“Why…”

“Why?” The mirth on his features immediately twists into a scowl. “Are you questioning me, pet?”

Your reply is instant and without a second thought, your mind unable to register the underlying threat in his question. “Is… Is that what I am, Doctor?”

“You are whatever I want you to be. Does that not suffice?” He presses against the wound, visibly overjoyed by the choked noise you let out. “Have you forgotten your place, pet?”

“No!” you gasp, tears streaming down your cheeks in rivulets. You don’t remember the last time you cried—you thought you couldn’t—but they flow on their own, uncontrollable and never-ending. “I’m sorry!”

It hurts. You feel as though you’re being torn apart by the neck, skin burnt and blistered at the Doctor’s will. Is this what he had wanted? Is this the foreign stimulus he needed to see your reaction to? Your pain tolerance was high and allowed you to withstand any trial he put you through. Did he take that away just to see you squirm? Just so he could hurt you himself?

For someone so unfamiliar with feelings now, everything comes back to you in full force. While you knew that the Doctor never saw anyone as his equal, the degrading act hits you harder than anything could ever do. You were proud of your duty of serving him, of being the subject he always looked for, but you are now lost in a void.

“I asked for one simple thing.” Whatever joy he previously had is all gone. The gentleness in his touch becomes harsh, fingers pressing against the collar again to rub your wound. “And my dearest little hound ignores it.”

“It hurts, Doctor, please—”

“Have I not been clear enough?” he continues, ignoring your cries. “Must I spell it out myself?”

The pedestal you put him on crumbles into pieces, surrounded by a cloud of dust and smoke. The holy light is replaced with unbounded darkness and the marble flooring is splattered with blood and broken parts. In the destruction, you see your lifeless body lying among the faceless, and all he does is watch as you wither away with his old selves.

“You treat this as a punishment,” he says with disappointment, breaking you out of the dreamscape you’d found yourself in. “But I implore you to consider it a gift.”

Not waiting for your reply, he continues. “A reminder of sorts. For you and for anyone who looks at you. It was quite the hassle deciding between this or reworking you entirely.” He shoves you away and gets back on his feet, slowly pacing around the room as he speaks. “I’d have to start over from zero again.”

You don’t understand. You don’t know what reworking entails, and you don’t know what he means by starting over. All you can do is stare blankly at the tear-stained ground as your body becomes static and shuts out everything around you. Only he and you exist in this void. Only he is in control.

“I made you myself. Gave you a body when you had nothing.” He stops in his tracks, hands behind his back. “And you repay me with disloyalty.”

It’s been days since you last spoke to Scaramouche. You haven’t seen him since, and here the Doctor is, punishing you for something that was out of your control. A part of you screams at you to fight back, to tell him that he was the one who sought after you, but all you can do is tremble where you stand. You want to apologise, despite your instincts telling you not to. That the Doctor is lying to you, just as he likely did before.

“Please,” is all that leaves you in a broken whisper. Defiance brings nothing. You’ve learnt it the hard way, you know you have, even if you can’t remember what it was. Briefly, you question if he’s ever taken control of your memories, forming a faux story for you to remember. The dreadfulness is enough to answer the question.

He sighs, disinterested. “As thrilling as this is, you are wasting my time. I have duties to attend to.”

“Doctor…”

“Stay here and wait for my return. Do not leave our quarters. Am I clear?”

You feel as though you’ve been through this before. Visions come to mind, but none of the vignettes play; only a sense of familiarity and hurt remain. There is something about his effortless cruelty that hovers just out of your reach and keeps you in a perpetual state of insecurity. Are you not enough? Haven’t you done enough?

Hasn’t he had enough?

Numbly, you nod, your voice wavering as you finally manage to speak, “Yes, Doctor.”

—

As time passes, you come to realise that your punishment was only an interlude for something worse.

The Traveller’s arrival in Sumeru and the failure of the Sabzeruz festival had thrown a wrench into the Doctor’s plans. More disagreements between him and the sages occurred, none of which you knew of, but his mood grew more dour with each passing moment. You haven’t seen Scaramouche since he’d broken into the laboratory that night, and there’s a nagging thought telling you that you won’t see him again, either.

He’d been defeated at the hands of the Traveller with the aid of the Dendro Archon and disappeared, presumably under their custody. Years worth of work had fallen apart in a blink of an eye. The Grand Sage and his underlings were swift to surrender to the Mahamatra himself, forcing the operation to a halt. The people of Sumeru were freed from the influence of the corrupted Akasha terminals, and ‘the good’ began to rebuild what they had lost.

Meanwhile, the ones who had been on the verge of victory were left with the scraps.

The Doctor had returned from his negotiation with the Dendro Archon with more irritation than when he’d left. As per agreement with her, he’d destroyed his remaining segments stationed throughout Sumeru. In return, she gave him her Gnosis. Though it seemed like a fair deal, it did nothing to lift his spirits. He didn’t believe in wasted effort—how could he, when it’s in everything he does?—but there was not a moment of hesitation when he decided to abandon the project entirely.

It was a clear enough sign: he saw it as an utter failure.

A part of you is curious (or worried?) about what will become of Scaramouche now that he’s no longer needed. The Doctor either completely abandons his projects or destroys them. With Scaramouche missing, will he be hunted or presumed dead? Will you come across him again one day? He’d left behind only a husk of what he could’ve been, a being at heights you don’t know he can reach again.

And now, all that is left to do is to salvage what you can from the disaster.

What used to be filled with sounds of whirring cogs and wheels is now completely silent as the machines are no longer in motion. The metallic walls haven’t changed in their dreariness and the lights flicker on and off overhead. The centrepiece lies in ruins, smothered by dust and rubble as the last of its vibrancy begins to dull completely. You can see broken concrete and shards of glass everywhere, a visible mark of what had woefully transpired in the last twenty-four hours.

It’s a stark difference from the first time you’d been here. The chambers are devoid of people and it’s daunting, more so with what remains of Shouki no Kami. The god has died before it can bless its people, leaving behind remnants of its power and godless land. What was meant to be a hall of worship had become a battlefield, a site of devastation and loss. Your gaze drifts back to the Doctor standing before the disaster.

If you had a heart, it would ache for him and weep.

You know he’d chide you for the sympathy you have for him. He’d make you remember that your ‘emotions’ are his, that he’s the sole person who gets to break you and build you back together. Still, you can’t help but feel sorrowful on his behalf. He’ll get back up and come up with a better plan; he’ll never crawl or bow in the face of an obstacle. He will move forward and you will continue to trail behind him, just like the loyal dog he wants you to be.

You’re reminded of the question Scaramouche had posed to you before—the question of whether the Doctor is your god. As it stands, you find that you still don’t have an answer for him. You don’t know what a god is supposed to be. You don’t know how close you can be to a god. You don’t know what makes the perfect god, if it’s benevolence or evil that constitutes their power.

You’ve heard stories of cruel gods: the fall of Khaenri’ah, the Raiden Shogun’s tyranny; stories about Rex Lapis at the height of his time as a warrior and those punished by Celestia. You’ve heard of the kind ones, those who created life and allowed them happiness beyond the waters. The Archons are all worshipped for different reasons: the grant of freedom, the discipline of contracts, the pursuit of wisdom and the like.

You wonder if zealots ever find themselves in the same position as you: lost in a paradox without a clear path. When you look at him, you see salvation, but in that salvation, you also see ruin. The Doctor gives, and the Doctor takes away. You picture yourself kneeling before his feet and feel nothing, yet you can’t see yourself following anyone else but him.

Then what are you supposed to be?

Your existence relies on him. Your life belongs to him. Your purpose is to be at his beck and call, by his side, beneath him, anywhere he needs you. A life without him would lead to nothing—or would it? Would you break free and find a life of your own like Scaramouche has? Your heart sinks into your bowels at the fogged outcome. You don’t know if it’s fear or ‘love’ that holds you back from thinking of freedom. You don’t know if you need it or if you don’t.

Were you to ask him what you are, he’d let the question linger and let it go forgotten. Were you to ask him who you were, he’d tell you a different story from the last, and there’d be no way of finding out what is the truth.

(Do you need to?)

“It’s about time we returned.”

The Doctor stops just by your side and faintly tilts his head towards you. He seems to be staring at something on your face but says nothing. Without another word, he marches forward and you dutifully follow him until you reach the same port you’d first arrived in.

The ship was docked and already filled with the other agents who’d gotten it ready for the long voyage back to Snezhnaya. It softly bobs in the waves as the Doctor boards, ignoring the salutes and greetings he is given. With your head down, you take post on the deck of the ship.

You feel gazes burning on your back. Behind masks, the surrounding agents are undoubtedly staring at the burns around your neck and the collar that lays atop it. A sense of shame washes over you and you instinctively bring your hand up to cover it, your eyes cast on the wooden floors beneath. It makes you overly aware of the collar’s presence, bringing back the tingles on your skin and memories of the pain inflicted by the Doctor.

He may take the collar off of you when his whims call for it in the future, but the scar burnt into your skin will still be visible. Owning you alone wasn’t enough of a tangible claim over you. Keeping your heart locked away in his quarters wasn’t enough proof of his ownership. Breaking you apart and putting you back together wasn’t enough reassurance that he was in total control.

It should all hurt you—it does—but a voice in your head tells you that the Doctor is not an unreasonable man. It’s soft, timid, and nostalgic in a way that makes you think of summer days and toothy smiles. It’s doused in affection akin to a king’s loyal servant feeling for their master. The voice belongs to a person unknown, though you feel that they’re closer to you than you think. Conflicted, you shakily exhale, the sea breeze turning your skin cold and your eyes dry.

Is he your god?

The question sounds once more, and you find that you have an answer this time—the Doctor is not your god, but if he were, then he is one who has forsaken you.

[all-for-geek]

The Cal Who Kinda Liked Musicals Chapters 3: Ma'am I Need You Take A Step Back...

Chapter 2

Fandom: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals/Starkid/Hatchetfield

Summary: Cal's patience is tested as the singing threat spreads and hits a little too close to home for one of their allies.

Word Count: 1,956

Warnings: Violence/Slight Gore

Cal wasn’t quite sure how long they were in the trash cans for. The cramped, dark space warped their perception of time as each minute seemed to drag on longer and longer. Bill certainly wasn’t helping matters.

“If I had known it was going to smell this bad, I would have grabbed the air freshener out of my car,” he complained.

Cal rolled their eyes. “Bill, it’s a trash can, what did you expect it to smell like?

“Well, I didn’t expect it to be this bad!”

“Will you two keep it down!” Ted hissed. “The whole point of hiding is not to get fucking caught. Which means sucking it up and being fucking quiet!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is your brilliant plan of hiding in the fucking trash can not completely foolproof!” Cal fired back, whisper shouting.

“Listen here you little shit-”

“Oh god, someone’s coming,” Charlotte interrupted as she curled into more of a ball.

The three became dead silent as what sounded like two people ran near them. The two were talking, thank god, and seemingly panicked. Or at least the woman did as she screamed something about implications. As the man reassured her, the four who were hidden realized they recognized his voice. Whether it was because of that realization or the smell finally getting to him, Bill took the opportunity to jump out.

“No! It’s not alright Paul!” he shouted.

Paul and the woman that he was attempting to comfort nearly jumped out of their skin.

“Bill! You scared the shit out of us,” Paul chastised.

“Well how am I supposed to jump out of a trash can and not scare the shit out of you?”

“I don’t know a warning or something…”

Cal’s ears perked up, a shit eating grin on their face. They bang on the trash can before popping out themself. Paul, Bill and the woman all jump again.

“Jesus Christ, Cal!” Paul criticized, a hand over his heart.

“Hey don’t look at me, I warned you.” Cal could hear Ted stifling laughter a trash can over.

“What are you guys doing here?” Paul finally asked.

“We had to go somewhere,” Bill explained, “Davidson kept calling people in his office and they kept coming out singing.”

“It wasn’t just there,” Cal continued, “Everywhere we went everyone was fucking singing.”

“It’s all of downtown, we were just at Beanies,” Paul added.

Ted jumped out of his trash can. “You didn’t invite me!”

“Jesus Christ, Ted!”

“Okay how many of you are fucking in there?” the woman asked.

Charlotte slowly pokes her head out her trash can, waving awkwardly. “Hi…”

“Alright everyone shut it! We got our sweet hiding spot, and we don’t want any of those freaks finding it,” Ted declared as if he wasn’t also making noise. “So, Paul, get in a trash can. You-” He points to the woman. “-beat it.”

“Uh…fuck you?” The woman rightly said.

“Yeah, dude, seriously?!” Cal asked, turning to Ted.

“I don’t know her!”

“Yes you do!” Paul corrected. “It’s Emma.”

…

“The barista from Beanies?”

…

“The…” Paul sighed. He does Ted’s Borat thing, cringing as he does so. “The Latte Hotte…”

Ted stares at him for a minute before leaning down by him. “...Paul, that is not the Latte Hotte. That’s the crabby one, who won’t sing when I tip her! You grabbed the wrong one, ya noodle!”

Suddenly, police sirens sounded off, rapidly getting closer. Everyone tensed except for Charlotte who seemed to relax slightly. “Oh thank god, I called Sam. He’ll get us out of here.”

Ted and Cal both rolled their eyes as Sam and two other cops arrived on the scene. Charlotte rushed over to her husband. Before she could get much of a word out, music started blasting in their ears. 

Ma'am, I need you to take a step back

You're facing the law, not the clerk at The Gap

Yeah, we're cops

Yeah, we're cops

You'd better shape on up

Cal freezes when they hear Sam start singing. Fuck fuck fuck fuck no. Charlotte wasn’t doing too much better either. She was in denial, still trying to approach her husband with a confused look on her face. Paul tried to reason with her, but that just led to him being cornered by the cops.

You better empty out all of them pockets

But don't empty out all of them pockets

Yeah, we're cops

Yeah, we're cops

And we make sense

They kicked him to the ground as they continued to sing. As the cops bopped along to the choreography, Charlotte managed to race over and help Paul back over to the group. Cal nudged Ted as the two came to the same conclusion. If they were so distracted dancing, maybe it wouldn’t be too hard to get out of there.

Show me your hands!

Show me those jazz hands

Get 'em up or you'll end up in cuffs

Show me those hands

Show me those jazz hands

Or I might

Be inclined

To shoot you up

They didn’t get far unfortunately. As the two rounded to the other side of the cops, it seemed all they did was steer their attention in their direction. As Sam continued singing, the two cops that had come with him danced up behind them.

You go forty in a thirty-five

Check your mirror, you'll find hell has arrived

The cop grabbed Cal’s wrist, puppeting their arm around to mimic a steering wheel. The hand was cold. It sent a shiver up Cal’s spine that vibrated in rhythm with the song.

'Cause we're cops

Yeah, we're cops

We're up in your shi-et

The cold hands grabbed Cal’s shoulder, pushing them to the ground.

Kathy lost her cat in a tree

Contact fire, not the HFPD

'Cause we're cops

Yeah, we're cops

Her cat is dead!

Cal flinched when they felt another hand on their shoulder. It took a moment for them to register that the hand was warm. That it didn’t cause their skeleton to want to dance out of their skin. They turned to see Ted, eyeing them with a look that anyone but him would’ve called concern.

Show me your hands

Show me those jazz hands

Get 'em up or you'll end up in cuffs

Show me your hands

Show me those jazz hands

Or I might

Be inclined to shoot you

Cal nodded, trying to show him that they were fine. They had never been a good liar though. The music around them seemed to grow louder. It pounded on their skull, demanding to be let in.

Step away from the vehicle

Step away from the vehicle

Get back in the vehicle

Get back in the vehicle

Slowly get out of the vehicle

Slowly get out of the vehicle

Do the things I say, I'm a cop

The siren noises weren’t helping either. The two threw their hands over their ears as the cop blared over them. Cal could feel their body threatening to shut down. The warm hand returns to their shoulder. Ted winces from the noise as he gives it a gentle squeeze.

9-1-1, emergency call

Got a 4-1-1, at a shopping mall

Better pack your heat and utility belt

Any mall rats comin' in hot, they'll melt

Sarge, that's your wife on the 9-1-1

What that bitch want, Sarge?

She wants to snug

Grab your nine millimeter and a doughnut bucket

Want my badge number?

Put in your mouth and suck it!

They point in unison as Charlotte approaches Sam once again. Cal was tempted to groan. Sam wasn’t there anymore. Why couldn’t Charlotte get that? They would be more upset if it didn’t give them a reprieve from all the noise.

“Sam…,” Charlotte begged, tears welling in their eyes. “Sam please I’m your wife! Please baby just…talk to me.”

For a moment, it was quiet. Cal couldn’t see Sam’s face as he took his sunglasses off, but they could hear how he softly whispered Charlotte’s name. They could see the hope light up in Charlotte’s eyes.

Just as quickly as it left, the noise returned. Sam put the glasses back on. He raised his gun to Charlotte’s face, and the hope was replaced with fear as Charlotte screamed.

Show me your hands (ba-pa-ra-ba-ra)

Show me those jazz hands (ba-pa-ra-ba-ra)

Get 'em up or you'll end up in cuffs

Show me those hands

Show me those jazz hands

Ted bursted up as Sam started chasing Charlotte through the alley, grabbing a trash can lid on the way. He narrowly missed the other two cops who started closing in on the others. As the music crescendoed again, Cal felt the song vibrating in their bones. They put their hand in their pocket, reaching out for something that could help.

Or I might

Be inclined

To shoot you

The music stops abruptly. Cal lets out a shaky breath, unsure of how long they had been holding it. Out of the corner of their eye, they could see Sam lying unconscious on the ground. Ted stood over him, garbage lid in hand. 

The cops stood frozen in front of them. There was a look of uncertainty on their faces. Almost like they weren’t sure how to continue with the lead vocals knocked out. That confusion wouldn’t last long. They would recover eventually. Cal pulled a gun out of their pocket, firing a shot into the air before pointing the gun at the cops.

“Alright, the next goes through someone’s fucking head!” Cal warned the cops. They stared at the gun for a moment before running off, flailing their arms in the air.

“Oh Sam!” Charlotte cried, kneeling down beside her “husband”.

“Cal, how long have you had a gun just stored in your pocket?” Bill asked as if it was a cellphone Cal had snuck into class.

Cal paused for a moment. “Uh…the whole time?”

“Wha…do you have any idea how dangerous those things are young-”

“I’ve got a better question, Billy Boy,” Ted interrupted, “Why the FUCK are this scumbag’s brains blue?!”

The group turned their attention back to Sam. Ted had whacked him good. Good enough that his brain matter lay pouring out of a hole in his skull. His blue brain matter.

Cal’s eyes widened. “What the fuck…?”

“He needs to get to a doctor…” Charlotte muttered over and over again.

“Charlotte,” Ted knelt down next to her, “this is beyond a fucking doctor. His brains are fucking blue!”

“We have to do something! We can’t just leave him here!”

“Uh, yeah we can,” Cal muttered.

Charlotte’s head whipped around. There was an anger there that gave Cal pause. “Don’t you talk like that. I’m not leaving here without Sam!”

“Charlotte, he tried to nab us. He put a gun to your fucking head!”

“I SAID I’M NOT LEAVING HIM!” 

Cal flinched, shrinking inward. Ted stayed knelt down beside the body, unsure of what to do. It seemed like no matter what he did, it would hurt one of them. So, he did nothing. It ended up being Emma that stepped between the two, her arms raised.

“Hey, woah, okay, let’s just…all take a breath. I’ve got this like, cooky biology professor. He’s got a doctorate! His house is like, a fucking survival bunker. We can go there, and be safe, and maybe he can figure out what’s going on with Sam, yeah?”

The group nods. Cal, once again, feels like they're being dragged along and outvoted at every turn. This was a horrible idea. It made the trash cans feel like a stroke of genius. But the other option was to face these singing fucks alone.

They huff. “Fine, but when he ends up killing us all, don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

[peachy-wolfhard]

He’s an asshole but he’s MY asshole (V)

A/N: ngl i cried writing the beginning of this, rewatching the season for this series has been rlly fun (except for the scene where Fei dies rip my queen), OH MY GOD DONT USE THE SCHEDULE THING BC THEN THE TAGS DONT WORK!!!

Taglist at the bottom, feel free to ask to be tagged in upcoming parts!

Warnings: ANGST, girlie u are going THROUGH it, Reggie’s a douche, more angst, y’all almost break up, reader is said to wear a dress but its only a passing comment, drinking, swearing, eating, five might be ooc bc i havent written for him in so long, smoking, sex implications

Word Count: 4.2k

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4 Part 6  Part 7

     Laying on the pool table yet again in the Hotel Obsidian after your brother and other sister died. Can't seem to fucking escape this place. It's like Hotel California. Great now I’m gonna have that song stuck in my head. Laying on your back, head against the lip of the pool table, you admire the necklace Fei had got you when you were a teenager. Yours had said ‘Best’ while theirs said ‘Friends’. Originally they were black with white lettering but due to time, they had faded to a bronze color with black lettering from the years of filling them in with sharpie. Tearing up you curl into a ball and start to sob. My fucking family is dead, my fucking best friend is dead. Now in the fetal position, you full-body sob, not caring if anyone sees. 

     Ignoring the ongoing argument in the other room, you go to the buffet trying to find something small to snack on, finding an apple. Using your knife you peel and slice the apple, cutting it into little cubes. The thought of cubes breaks you again, dropping your knife on the floor and dropping to your knees. I want my family back, I want my fucking family, I NEED them. I need Alphonso’s shitty jokes, I need Jayme’s daily existential dread talk, I need Chris’ happy disposition, I need Fei. Sobbing you slide down the wall silently munching on the apple cubes. After a cry sesh, your arms fall to your sides, brushing the matted-down carpet. Looking forward all emotions drained out of you, feeling empty. Deciding to see what the other idiots are up to you head back toward the balcony.

     Before walking into the room you hear Ben and Diego arguing. Leaning on the column you watch them argue, numb. “Hey, you guys done? The universe is disappearing outside. So you can keep rearranging the deck chairs of the Titanic if it makes you feel better. But the fact remains that we are too late,” Five says. “Come on, Five,” “It's over Luther, we failed.” “Come on. It cant be over over,” Viktor says. “Yeah, come on, Five. We gotta figure this out, man,” Diego insists. “Okay. How about we take a step back? Look at the big picture here. Most of us have spent the last 28 days trying to stop the world from ending. What exactly have we accomplished?” The room goes silent, the Umbrella’s reflecting on their past 28 days. 28 days ago I wasn't in this shithole and had all my siblings. Walking from your column you stand next to Ben, his arms wrapping instinctively around you. Normally, this would make you smile but not now, not after half of your family died. “Well, we made some friends along the way,” Luther says positively. “Incorrect! You know what we’ve done? Nothing. We made things worse every single time,” Five corrects Luther. Leaning closer to Ben your head leans against his bicep sighing. “Don't save the world.”

     “Well, on that…super happy note, we’ve um--oh, what the hell,” Luther says as both he and Sloane stand. “We’ve got a little announcement to make,” “We’re engaged!” they say in unison. “Kill me, Jesus,” Ben mutters making you smile for the first time. Taking the flask out of his hand you take a long drink before giving it back. “Now?” Allison asks. “Yeah. Look, we realize the timing is less than ideal. But, obviously, it's now or never. Am I right, Five?” “Don’t drag me into this, please,” Five says while looking away. “What…Whatever time we have left, we wanna spend it with all of you. So we’re super pumped if you would join us in the banquet hall at 6:00 p.m. for a celebration of our love, and the official union of what's left of our two great families,” Sloane explains. “Dress code is creative black tie.”

     Sloane goes around handing out their wedding invitations when Reggie and Klaus return after being gone for days. Klaus explains that they were tangled up in a father-son end-of-the-world road trip. Klaus’ long explanation ends with him saying that he’s now immortal. Huh, so that's what Diego was talking about. After accusing Klaus of getting into bath salts, Reginald asks why we’re playing with jars. “They’re invitations. Luther and I are getting married,” Sloane says to Reggie. “If he goes to their wedding I'm gonna be even more pissed off,” Ben whispers to you. Ah, your wedding was a magical time full of arguing and absent fathers. Sloane hands him an invitation before Luther tells him space is limited and taking it back. Ben picks your invitation up and looks at it, “Ours were better,” he jokes. “Well I mean it's not like they have marketable powers like us,” you continue joking. 

     “Dad, have you been taking your pills?” Sloane asks. “As a matter of fact, I haven't. And I can confirm that I’ve never felt better in my life. You thought you could dope me up and slow me down, take control of my affairs and squander my fortune,” Reginald says, looking directly at you. He’s always hated me, accusing me of only being with Ben to get a hold of his money, the feelings mutual. “Well, Klaus here was good enough to wean me off that wretched poison, and now that the fog is lifting I can see all your dastardly designs with a bracing clarity.” “You took him off his meds? What were you thinking?” Sloane asks upset. Reginald is then sent into another spiel about how he's the only one thinking and then calls him an impressive young man, causing Diego to laugh. “As for the rest of you, your training is to resume post-haste,” Thank fuck some normalcy in your last couple of days. Ben and you quickly tell him that you're ready. You can tell he’s been waiting for this, to go on a big grandiose mission since the last huge mission was years ago. 

     Five and Reginald start going back and forth; Five mentions that he talked to Pogo. God, I can't remember the last time I saw him let alone heard his name, I miss him. “Nobody wants you here, Dad,” Luther tells Reginald. “Hey, you don't speak for everyone, big guy,” Ben replies holding your entwined hands up. I don't even wanna be around him, he’s done nothing but make Ben and me feel like shit. I mean he didn't even come to our wedding when it was at his own house! “Feel free to join him.” Before Reggie can continue with another one of his long tirades, Klaus interrupts taking him to ‘have a cup of tea’ in his suite. Diego leaves as Lila quickly follows him; Sloane then leaves presumably to go see what’s up with Reggie, leaving you, Ben, and the Umbrella’s alone.

     Walking past Luther and Viktor, Ben holding your hand and pulling you along with him, he overhears Luther mentioning his bachelor party and how “not everyone is invited.” “What was that?” Ben stops making the three of you look at him. “Nothing man, nothing,” Luther shrugs off with a quiet chuckle and smile. Ben quickly continues with you in tow, walking even faster than before. Getting to what you have claimed as your room Ben flops on the bed and sighs deeply. Flopping down next to him you ask “Is everything alright? You’ve been pouting since we left.” Ignoring you and rolling on his side away from you, staring at the wall. “Well, when you want to tell me I’ll be open, not gonna force it out of you,” you say walking towards the door baiting him to say what’s wrong. “Okay fine you pried it out of me,” he says with his usual dramatic flair, rolling onto his back, and staring at the ceiling. “It’s just…why wasn't I invited to the bachelor party?” he asks, completely serious. “Babe, are you joking?” you ask smiling thinking it’s just another one of his pranks. “No, why would I be joking?” he says turning and looking at you now sitting on the bed. “Well I mean you’ve been an asshole to them the entire time they’ve been here,” you tell him. “Listen, I’m gonna find Sloane and see if she needs anything before we get ready.” 

    Walking to what you remember is Sloane and Luther’s room, you start reflecting on Ben’s actions. Being that you were the only person that truly got to see who Ben was or wanted to be. For everyone (and even sometimes you) he wears a mask of a confident, arrogant leader but in those times when his mask slips you can truly see him. An affection-starved man craving any and all affection and recognition he can get. A man that just wants to be loved and seen by his father. Someone who has played a character so long that he himself doesn't know who he is. Finally, you made it to their room, knocking to the tune of ‘Shave and a Haircut.’ You can hear Sloane yell to come in, walking in you see her sitting in a chair hemming a dress. “Need any help?” you offer secretly hoping that she would say no. “Um, not at the moment but thank you,” she smiles. “You know I can't even believe it,” she confesses. “What the wedding or the end of the world?” “Oh shut up, you know what I meant. I just can’t believe I’m getting married,” she says smiling down at her dress. “I mean I always thought and dreamt of this day and now it’s finally here. Did you feel like this?” Sloane asks looking up at you like a little kid asking for their mom’s advice. “Well truth be told no, but that’s just because Ben and I aren't romantics, unlike you and Luther,” you say playfully rolling your eyes at the last part.

     “So it’s official. My ears are broken and the idiot with knives really can’t sing,” Ben says barging in on you and Sloane’s alone time, the first part making Sloane jump at his sudden appearance. “Diego. You know his name is Diego.” Caught in the middle yet again. “Maybe you should try and be nice to him and the others,” Sloane says running out of patience for Ben. “And why would I do that?” “As much as I’d love to work through your anger issues right now, I have to get back to this. The wedding is in an hour,” she exasperatedly said, patience wearing thinner by the moment. “Fei is dead,” Ben says, reminding you about half of your family being dead and you soon too. “Yeah. I know. And so are the others.” “Oh, so that's it? You’re just gonna turn your back on the Sparrow Academy? I mean you heard Dad. we have training to do. Something big is about to go down.” “Ben, shut up,” you jump in, defending Sloane. “I wish you were talking about my wedding,” Sloane says sadly. “Okay, Sloane listen to me--” “No. You listen to me. I’m sorry they didn't invite you to the bachelor party,” Sloane says ever the nicest person in the room. “I don't…I don't care about that.” “yes, you do,” you and Sloane say in sync. “You care more about being invited to the bachelor party than Fei or the others or even saving the world.” “That's--that's... That's crazy,” Ben says chuckling awkwardly and looking at the ceiling before putting the mask back on and going back to his serious leader act. 

     “Is it? The three of us have never been alone. It's always been the eight of us. Now it’s just you,” Sloane says, Ben scoffing at her. “So congratulations, Ben. you're finally number one of one.” Ben looks at you incredulously, “So you’re not a Sparrow anymore?” “Why would I wanna be one?” you say about to cry for the millionth time today. Ben’s face drops for a second, looking you directly in the eyes, sadness written all over his face. “You don't mean that,” he says quiet enough that Sloane can’t hear. “Maybe I do,” looking at him tears in your eyes. “What’s so damn special about them anyway?” Ben resumes the conversation with Sloane. “They’re a real family. They don't exist to sell action figures and tote bags.” “We were more than that,” Ben tries to defend. “Were we?” No, we weren't. We were only a thing to deter crime (which didnt work) and sell merch. Hell, my own wedding had merch. “Why is it so important to you to be a Sparrow?” that's what pushes Ben to leave, quickly he walks out the door just before trying to grab your hand and pull you along unsuccessfully.

     Time for a wedding! Dressed all fancy in a black gown that you found in one of the abandoned hotel rooms. You haven't spoken to Ben in an hour and a half, only seeing him here for the first time in that hour and a half. “What’s the deal with them?” Klaus leans to Five and asks. “I have no idea, could be because we’re all gonna die,” Five says matter of factly. Standing next to Allison, Ben walks toward you, “You look…so fucking good,” Ben says hoping to make amends. “Thank you. You look good too,” you say smiling while taking a drink of your champagne easing yourself into your night of hard-drinking. Standing next to you Ben grabs your hand and starts playing with your fingers smiling. “Hey. I love you,” he whispers, leaning into your neck causing you to smirk. “Love you too,” you say now giving him a sip of your drink. After that Luther and Viktor arrive, “I don't know. Normally, my tush looks good,” Luther says walking out of the elevator with Viktor. As soon as they walk out Allison and Viktor are already quralling. Luther whispers something to the both of them before raising his voice, saying “Bah, bah, bah! My day! Two hours. Do you think you can manage that?” Viktor replies with a ‘fine.’ 

     The elevator bell rings and everyone faces toward to elevator. The seconds that it takes for the doors to open are painstakingly long, making you anxious and excited to see your sister. This was the day she would meticulously plan out when you two were in your teens, documenting everything she wanted in a large binder down to the lighting, and now it's finally here; albeit at the end of the world and planned over a night and a few hours. Looking at her you smile, “Let’s get this over with before I die of cringe,” Ben interrupts the beautiful scene of Luther seeing Sloane in her dress and the sweet moment the two of you were sharing.

      The marriage was ordained by Klaus who gave a very eventful but meaningful officiant speech. Sitting on the left side next to Ben, you interact whenever Klaus says something that warrants it, such as him yelling “Can I get an amen?” to which everyone except Ben makes noise. Glancing towards him he's pouting again. I’m not his fucking mom, I’m not gonna babysit him the entire night. I actually want to have a good last day. “I pronounce you married as shit! Viva la apocalypse!” Klaus yells as Sloane and Luther kiss, making the tiny crowd cheer. After watching Sloane and Luther have their first dance, you start looking at the food spread; the cookies and brownies catch your eye more than the other foods. After putting the food on your plate (and grabbing a bottle of vodka) you turn around to look where to sit. You could sit with Ben and Allison and have the joy sucked out of you or Diego and Lila and have to deal with their mushy love talk or you could sit with Five, someone who you haven't gotten to know yet. 

     Sitting down across from Five he looks up from his food and nods to acknowledge you. Looking back toward Allison and Ben; the latter staring at you. “So I take it things aren't going so good with Ben and you,” Five comments chowing down on a pastry on the table and taking a looong drink. “Rather not talk about that, right now I just wanna get as fucked up as possible,” you say smirking while sitting the bottle down on the table. “Okay, I have some questions,” you say watching as Five pours himself another drink. “Are you actually like a kid or is it some time-travel fuckery?” you ask the burning question that’s been on your mind since you saw him and Ben fighting. Five goes on to explain the first apocalypse and him being stuck there for 40 years and how he’s actually a 53-year-old man. “Huh. so you’re a little old man,” you say as Viktor sits down next to you.

     Getting up from your seat after talking with your new in-laws, bottle in hand you walk toward Ben’s table and flop down in the seat next to him, setting the bottle between you two. The elevator bell chimes making everyone look over and see Reginald walking in, making the room so silent, even the music. Reginald walks over and gets himself a plate and starts looking for a seat. “What is he doing here?” Ben asks rhetorically.  “But who invited him?” “just sit and suffer with me,” Allison says making you giggle. “I can’t even get invited to a bachelor party and he’s invited to this?” “Wow. you really can't relax,” Allison comments making you giggle again. “Y/n, are you okay?” she asks, making a confused face at you now laying your head on the table. “Oh my god, how are you already drunk?” Ben asks in disbelief. “Well you see, in my grief, I perhaps stumbled upon the open bar and perhaps may have started the celebrating earlier than the rest. I mean come on, we’re on the edge of oblivion and you people expect me not to day drink,” you say smirking “And! I’m not drunk yet.” Leaning on Ben’s shoulder, you watch how awkward the wedding has become, no one making eye contact with Reggie. The awkwardness is semi-broken by Lila and Diego, Lila wanting Diego to introduce them. Watching them was nice, Lila and Reginald actually had things in common and got to talking, impressing Diego.

     After the nice moment between Lila and Reginald, Allison had gotten up leaving you and a now pouting Ben alone. Ben and you had managed to drink almost half the bottle in addition to the numerous glasses of champagne. Now you both were laying your head on the table staring at each other, Ben laying on his plate of shrimp. Klaus soon made his rounds to your table; he had been doing this all night walking from table to table and person to person trying to convince them Reggie is good now. Guess it’s our turn. “Hey, Ben-ihana and lovely little eight,” Klaus starts. “Don't hit me!” he jokes sitting down at your table. “I know we all ain’t been best buds in this timeline or whatever, but man, do I have a mission for you--” Ben interrupts him by belching verrry loudly in his face making you giggle, still laying on the table. “Eleven people,” Ben says ominously making Klaus question. “There are only eleven people left,” “Ten and a half, I’m not all here at the moment,” you say making Klaus chuckle. “Okay. Drunk Ben clearly likes numbers and… shrimp,” Klaus says still trying to recover from Ben’s shrimp burp. 

     “And you couldn't even invite me to your stupid bachelor party.” “Oh. Have we finally flicked off bad Benny’s hard candy shell?” Klaus says rubbing his arm. “Why don't you like me? Or us?” Ben asks making you move next to his shoulder, cheek touching his jacket looking at Klaus. “Because you’re huge puckering assholes.” “Okay, but you like the other Ben and y/n,” Ben says annoyed and clearly sad. “Yeah, we love the other yous,” Klaus says with a hint of sadness. “Why? What’s so special about them?” “Because he was a know-it-all. He was a scold. He was a tiny dark cloud on a perfect sunny day,” Klaus laughs after that. “What about me? What was so special about the other me?” you ask now becoming increasingly curious and intrigued. “Oh my god, they were a pain. An emo with a preference for sulking and being pretentious in a corner. Know-it-all just like Benny,” Klaus explains about you, well the other you. “Those.. those are all bad things about us,” Ben says after looking down at his shrimp. “Yeah, and they looked great on you two.” “Okay, you know what? We are so much better than that other Ben and y/n. I was number one--” “Twice,” you interject. “And-and they ripped people’s throats out.” “Oh yeah, did that all the time in my timeline. Does Dad give a shit?” Klaus says before asking Ben. “No. he was busy hanging out with you” Ben whispers poking Klaus. “Oh, man, methinks you might be trying a little too hard. Look around. Nobody’s polishing their boots or pressing their tights. We’re a complete and total shit show. Ya get it? And our Ben and y/n, my Ben and y/n, were just that kind of disaster and it made them ridiculously easy to love,” Klaus says, sighing at the thought of his deceased siblings, before getting up to leave you two alone. 

     The speeches started after Klaus left and went back to Lila and Diego’s table. Reginald was first, talking about Sloane when she was little, calling Luther adequate, and talking about how he wishes that his shortcomings will be seen only as a rough patch. “I’m proud to call you my children, even those I raised in a revenant version of myself,” Reginald continues, glancing around the room before stopping on you, making you look toward Ben in disbelief. Holy shit, the man that wouldn't even acknowledge that Ben and I are married called me his child! Reggie’s speech continues and finally ends with a poem, Allison leaves making everyone look toward the walking woman. “Makes, no sense,” Ben says still eating his many shrimp as everyone starts applauding at Reginald’s newfound kindness. “All right! All right! Time to turn those frowns upside down. This one is for all my party people in the place,” the concierge turned now wedding D.J says, as everyone gets up and starts dancing on the dancefloor. 

     Dancing around with your new family and husband felt nice, it felt like it was just a normal wedding on a normal day. After all of the fast and upbeat songs played then started the slow songs. Arms wrapped around Ben’s neck while his arms around your waist the both of you sway drunkenly together. Looking up at him, you plant a small kiss on the end of his scar making him smile, and put his face into your neck and start kissing it. “Noooo, stop,” you say smiling and pushing him away jokingly. “No, come back here,” he says pulling you back before snuggling his face back into your neck. Leaving the dancefloor you and Ben go back to your seat. While sitting and drunkenly talking Klaus shows up and the three of you start walking around the hotel property.

     Towards the end of the night Klaus, you, and Ben arrive back at the wedding noticeably more drunk than before. “Oh no no no no no!” someone shouts. “Klaus, why are you bringing Ben here?” Five asks. “Hear me out before--” “Hear him out,” you and Ben shout in sync as you take your shared cigarette away from Ben. “The brother that you all knew as Ben is gone. And not-- I don’t mean our Ben, the nice Ben. I mean this Ben, he’s gone now. The asshole, he’s gone now,” Klaus exclaims. “But that's what I liked about you, my asshole,” you say sadly looking at Ben. “Klaus, what are you talking about?” Luther asks. Klaus ignoring his question continues, “And the man that stands in front of you is new new Ben, and he’s one of us, and he’s a member of the team. And he’s part of the family!” Ben and Klaus shout the last statement in unison. “And as a welcome gift, I suggest we throw him off the roof,” Five says making you laugh. “Ha! They like me more!” you gloat at Ben. “Yeah, I’ll help,” Diego agrees with Five. “You know what. You know what. He can stay. He can stay,” Luther says. “And baby eight?” Klaus says holding your shoulders and giving puppy eyes. “They’ve been welcome to stay,” Diego says making you smile as you walk over with Klaus and Ben.

    Almost as soon as you sit down everyone starts heading to bed. Standing up you pull Ben along with you, “I’m ‘sleepy’ if you get my meaning,” you say to Ben too loudly. Taking a moment to understand what you meant, Ben then realizes it, “huh? Sleepy? But-- Oh!” he says before speed walking with you toward to elevator.

Taglist highlighted means unable to tag: @0x1lovesonq @bryannabarradas @onmyumbrellaacademyfanera @4okkotsu @gloriousstudentoperamug @j-panic @salted-fis @siriusly-rem-writes @gamingdevil101 @sanguinelabyrinth @muzanslander12 @mihhggvggh @choichaeyiul @mitsuri-darling @birbtweettweet @choclate32 @ddeonubaby @nao-cchi @i-bitch-you-bitch @mylesofasgard @darlingsuna @blogname197 @mivzai @emmeowo @yanelly1085 @mukbee @aceofspades190 @jui36oxx @iamasimpsstuff @hawkinsbylers @fanficwritersworld @natsgaygf @divergentnewt23 @fantasyfiction-net @electronicvoidcat @benarino @papaskazoo @cole-silas @strawberryheartsstuff 

[some-murmurings]

Essay!!

edit after 1000+ words: I'm so sorry oh my fucking god. I didn't realize how many thoughts I had. I had so many. So fucking many. This got so long. You don't need to read it all. Jesus Christ. Thank you for asking. I had fun.

I'm glad you asked, I nearly wrote my 20+ page senior seminar paper on this topic so, while I have none of the sources together or any super strong body paragraphs, an overview should be ezpz laimon shqueez-ee.

Brief personal context: I finished 2/3 of my undergrad in the Philosophy program at a small liberal arts college, then switched to Creative writing for reasons that will become apparent. I was raised by intellectual dickheads who rely heavily on clever rhetoric to "win" conversations (yes, even with literal toddlers), so I have an unyielding spite for Academia in general. It will come through so judge my bias accordingly.

This video by a really solid video essaying, "Knowing Better" explores a common cultural narrative he calls "The Standard American History Myth"

Think "Abraham Lincoln ended Slavery" and "Martin Luther King Jr. ended Racism" and "Obama ended Racism AGAIN" all of which are extremely common implications (and frequently explicit claims) made in most US public schools. No I do not have a study to back that up. Yes it's probably hyperbolic.

Basically, because the bureaucracies in charge of lesson plans in our public schools (assuming you're from the US, sorry if wrong) all share super similar incentive structures (good test scores, don't encourage gang violence, actively destroy children's creative spirit), huge swaths of misinformation get proliferated into the public consciousness. The already-euphemistic "Trail of Tears" being understood as "merely aggressive relocation of indigenous folk" becomes commonplace, it becomes impolite to suggest that the genocide was, in fact, a genocide. A phenomena we're seeing right now with Gaza and have been seeing with our colonial regime over the Imperial Periphery for actual centuries.

I argue that Academic Philosophy suffers a similar sickness.

In my courses, I took class after class after class talking about the same 20 or so European guys who were overwhelmingly framed as "Important figures with Important thoughts about Important things" with little to no acknowledgement of their particular cultural context.

Very pointedly, with little to no acknowledgement of their particular cultural context... when it made them look bad.

I did not learn Aristotle was staunchly pro-slavery (notably using nearly identical arguments to the US Confederacy) until nearly 2 years into my degree, and by then I was surrounded by white cishet guys insisting that "He's the Father of Philosophy, [deadname]" (I wasn't out to these jamokes, naturally).

Sidebar: is Aristotle or Socrates the father of philosophy? Plato isn't, too broad, but I've seen both A & S called the patriarch and I've long since gotten lost. Petition to change it to Hegel, cement our collective deathwish.

I googled Heidegger and actually did a spit take. My main man was wavery on a whole bunch of stuff he really did not need to be. Nazi stuff. Heidegger was a Nazi.

Now, a frequent rebuttal I got from my professors was that, in effect, I'm grandstanding! My critiques are sweeping, performative. What, do I want us to *gasp*... burn their books?!

Plainly, no. Kant being so pro-colonialism he made nose-charts (note: can't source this :( I distinctly remember a professor showing us them) on some nasal phrenology shit isn't just an opportunity for easy dunking (altho it is that too), it's a huge, foundational problem with his perspective on ethics. Like really, really, really big issue.

In fact, once you start digging through the lives and cultural contexts of ANY big name thinker, you realize several extremely funny things:

Irregularly bigoted in at least one (1) direction. Usually more.

A guy

A guy we'd probably call "white" nowadays*

A guy we'd probably call "white" nowadays who had the money and free time to write a lot

A guy we'd probably call "white" nowadays who happens to position himself ways provocative to recent political movements

Fun game: see how many of the "big names" (and even more niche favs) of yours last to the end of this list. Most of em? Yeah.

This is because "Academic Philosophy" is lowkey an oxymoron. Not that study of philosophical texts itself is useless; Ursula K LeGuin's "Those who walk away from Omelas" taught me more in sidebar summary than any full text Plato ever wrote.

The issue is that our cultural definition of "philosophy" has been MASSIVELY narrowed to a very specific range of weird abstractions or artistic movements. No, not even Existentialism is safe. I love you Wittgenstein, you were right. The Tractatus does suck balls and ass (not to yuck a yum) but you didn't escape the event horizon of Philosophy.

Taking a given class, I frequently bounced thousands of years in between these poorly introduced dickheads. You do a week on Kant then a week on Aristotle then a week on your professor's work then a week on a cyberpunk author. You'll jump from Augustine to Hume like these two were riding the train to work next to Foucault. Insanity.

It's fine to juxtapose ideas you like in a class, obviously, but that's just it: these teachers aren't. Not really, they're slapdashedly throwing lesson plans together and using syllabi they got off the internet because they haven't slept in a month. No explanation of the differences, no time to explore the faults in their perspectives, just dead-eyed stares at flickering overhead fluorescence.

There's a huge pressure to teach names that admin can recognize, to focus on "Real, Published Thinkers" as if academic publication does not VERY aggressively select against uncomfortable truths. Y'know. Basically the primary goal of philosophy. Loving wisdom despite its burden.

This got disorganized. I'm too tired to reorganize or even edit it. Apogolies for typos, I hope they're not too major. And, if you did read this, I hope it made some sort of sense. I love Philosophy (outside of college) a LOT, it's just so painful to see it get bastardized so badly.

Anything is philosophy, to me, any single damn thing. Some more than others, I bet, but really anything. If you tried to make it true and tried to teach me something about anything, that's philosophy.

Not like truth lives in a book anyways, right?

*strictly speaking, e.g. ancient Athenians did not have "whiteness" in the modern sense. They did, however, have a rigid class system with an ethnically diverse slave-class, so one can reasonably extrapolate many "Citizens" enjoyed privileges based on their ethnicity & class. White Supremacy may be a modern stupidity but its constituent parts are not.

THE GOOD PLACE (2016 - 2020) I 2.12 - Somewhere Else

[waka-chan-out]

your fics are so good!!

idk if you take requests but if you do, could you do a third gym fic (tsukki, bokuto, kuroo, akaashi) with a switch reader?

Third Gym Reunion

akaashi, kuroo, tsukishima, & bokuto x switch!reader

Plot: Your boyfriend, Akaashi Keiji, gets invited to meet up with his old practice buddies. His friends already know you have an open relationship and are fully ready to take advantage of it.

post-timeskip, obviously.

word count: 8.5k (jesus christ !!)

content warning: (deep breath) established relationship, open relationship, five-some (if that’s even a word), sub!bokuto, reader calls bokuto puppy, bokuto with mommy kink, oral (m. and f. receiving), praise kink, degradation, snowballing, spanking, hair pulling, spit-roasting, finger sucking, calling tsukki his given name, spitting, in my canon akaashi and bokuto have hooked up before so you’ll see the repercussions of that in this story, don’t mind me putting in an anal warning for them here, slight exibitionism but not really, slight overstim but not really, essentially it’s filth.

“For the last time, no,” Keiji said.

“Why not? I want to meet the boys,” you whined, grasping at his forearm. He kept staring straight at the road, seemingly immune to your pleading.

“Because I know my friends. It will not end well.”

“How come? Don’t you trust them?”

Keiji laughed. “Absolutely not. Bokuto I can talk into behaving. Tsukishima and -- oh god -- Kuroo? Absolutely not.”

“What could they possibly do?”

“They know we’re more . . . open, love. They’ll try to take advantage of that.”

“What’s so wrong with that?”

“Babe!”

“What? You said they’re all tall, right? Are they handsome?”

Keiji shrugged, then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. My answer is no.”

“Why don’t you just take me along? I’m sure they’d bring a girlfriend if they had one. You’re the lucky guy out of the three of you.”

“What if they try to . . . proposition you?”

“If they’re icky, I’ll say no.”

He turned to you, alarmed. “And if they aren’t?”

“Are you saying they aren’t?”

“Answer the question.”

“If they aren’t, I’ll look to you for approval.”

“No.”

“What? You don’t even know they’re gonna ask.”

“You haven’t met them. Bokuto is going to take one look at you and be latched onto you all night. God only knows what Kuroo will do.”

“What about the other one?”

“Who?”

“The blond.”

“Oh, Tsukki? He’ll just insult you. I doubt he’d ever sink to asking me.”

You smirked. “He sounds fun.”

“Only some --” Keiji noticed your cheeky expression. “Hey! No.”

“You never know.”

“I know.”

“Whatever you say, Kei.”

“Don’t call me that around them.”

You pouted. “Why?”

“That’s Tsukishima’s first name.”

You grinned. “So you’re saying I get to come as long as I don’t use your nickname?”

Keiji sighed. “I guess so. I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t.”

“Yay!” You hummed happily, then turned to him with a cheeky smile on your face. “Wait . . . is Bokuto the one that you--” Keiji cut you off by clapping a hand over your mouth.

“Don’t.”

“I’m right! Oh my god, Keiji, I’m excited to meet him.”

“It’s been a long time, love. He probably doesn’t even remember.”

“Oh please, if it was with you, he remembers.”

Keiji’s brows knitted together.

“What does that mean?” he asked. You wiggled your fingers at him.

“You’ve got very memorable hands.”

His face flushed a bright red and he turned away from you.

“Shut up,” he muttered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your confident demeanor only faltered slightly when you arrived at gym three, where they all used to practice together. Only Kuroo and Bokuto were there and, as you suspected, they weren’t even remotely icky. Kuroo was tall with dark hair, his dress shirt and pants hiding a slim but muscular frame. He looked like he had just come from work. Bokuto on the other hand was huge. He wore simple sweatpants and a sweatshirt and looked thoroughly happy to be there. He was holding a volleyball and yelling when you and Keiji stepped through the doorway.

“What do you mean I’ve gotten worse? I’m a professional!”

“You’re a dumbass that can’t receive the ball.”

“And you’re a scammer!”

“Bokuto, this is my work uniform. I don’t scam people.”

“You look like a scammer.”

“I work for a legitimate company!”

“Yeah? Prove it.”

“Are you kidding?”

“No, I’m not kidding. See? Scammer.”

“Bokuto-san,” Keiji called from the doorway. “His company is real. You need to calm down.”

“Aghakshi!” Bokuto sprinted for his friend while Kuroo fell into step behind him, a pleased smile on his face. Bokuto wrapped Keiji up in a bear hug.

“You’re late, ‘Kashi. Kuroo was mean without you.”

“I’m not mean.” Kuroo placed a hand on his chest. “I am a very nice man.”

“No, you’re a scammer and a liar.”

“I’m not --”

“Guys,” Keiji butted in. He gestured behind himself to you. “This is my partner, Y/N. Please behave around them.” Both men’s eyes froze on you, making you distinctly aware of your height difference. Keiji wasn’t short by any means, but these men were huge.

“Hi,” you said, pasting a cheerful smile across your face. “It’s nice to finally meet you guys. I’ve heard all about you.”

“I guarantee we’re worse in person,” Kuroo said, eyes sparkling as he reached out to shake your hand.

“Why do you do that?” Bokuto asked, eyebrows drawn down in a frown.

“It’s the truth.”

“It’s not the truth,” Keiji stepped in, separating your hand from Kuroo’s. You hadn’t realized you were still holding it. “You’re both dorks and they know it already. Stop being weird.”

“Hi,” a bored sounding voice came from directly behind you. You turned around and shrunk against Keiji. Tsukishima stood behind you, shaggy blonde hair just barely hiding his serious eyebrows. He was thin, too, but tall. He and Kuroo were about the same size, but seeing Tsukishima so close to you made your heart pound.

“Tsukki-poo, how are you, buddy?” Bokuto yelled, pushing past you to wrap his friend up in his arms.

“Don’t call me that.” Tsukki sounded bored and annoyed, but you knew he wouldn’t have come if he didn’t miss his friends just a little bit. “Who’s the little one?” he asked, staring down at you with cold eyes. Bokuto grinned, still hanging onto him.

“That’s Akaashi’s partner. Isn’t that cool?”

“Sure. You guys fuck other people, don’t you?”

Silence. You stared at the ground, eyes wide in amused disbelief.

“That. Well. You aren’t wrong but that seems inappropriate.” Keiji was bright red and only burned brighter as he spoke.

“Not as inappropriate as you describing your sex life to us. Do they know you do that?”

“Yes, I do,” you said, staring up at him. “Slow down, lamp post. I think you need to relax.”

Kuroo let out a hyena laugh. “I like them,” he said.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “Are we playing or not?”

“Playing,” Keiji said.

“Fine. Akaashi, you help tiny. Bokuto, you can be on their team.”

Bokuto frowned. “Why? You guys just have two middle blockers.”

“Kuroo can receive and both of us can spike.”

“Who’s going to set for you?” Keiji asked.

“I can,” you chimed in. Keiji’s friends all turned to you in surprise.

“I played through college. It’s only fair. Bokuto and Akaashi against me, Tsukishima, and Kuroo.”

Kuroo smiled, eyes glinting again as he stared at you. “I think that’s a brilliant plan. Ok with you, ‘Kashi?” Keiji narrowed his eyes at his friend, who still had his eyes trained on you.

“They can play setter for you. That’s it.”

The three other men looked at each other in surprise. The implication of his words was . . . jarring. You smiled nervously and walked to one side of the net. You shrugged off your jacket, revealing a thin long-sleeved shirt that no longer covered the back of your leggings. You could feel at least two men’s eyes on you, but you ignored it. All you had to do now was prove you could still play volleyball.

“You know the rules, then?” Tsukishima asked, tying his shoes tighter.

“I’ll be just fine, Tsukki-babe,” you said. He cringed at the nickname. “I’m more concerned with how Kuroo is going to play in his work clothes.

“Give me a minute, dearest,” he said, walking past you with a bag in his hands. “I brought clothes.”

“Hustle up, buddy, or we’ll start without you.”

“Shut up and practice before we lose to the chaos twins.”

Tsukki scoffed. “Like we’re going to lose to them. Bokuto’s going to go emo-mode in ten minutes, guaranteed.”

“Emo mode?” you asked. Tsukki’s brows raised and he smiled for the first time since you had met him.

“You’re dating Akaashi and you don’t know about Bokuto’s emo mode?”

“I guess not.”

He let out a delighted laugh, completely out of character but quite sweet. “God, you’re in for a treat.”

Kuroo returned in a short pair of red athletic shorts and a black t-shirt.

“Is that the same outfit you had in high school?” Keiji asked, a smile on his face.

“The very same,” Kuroo said, laughing and stretching his arms across his chest. “Well, not the exact same clothes, but the same colors. I outgrew my old stuff. I’ve gotten much bigger since high school.” He winked in your direction.

“Gross,” Tsukki said.

“Shut up.”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “Can we start?” He shrugged off his own jacket, revealing a long-sleeved shirt and athletic shorts.

“Who gets first serve?” Keiji asked.

“There are more of us. You guys can start,” Kuroo said.

“Bokuto, do you want to serve or should I?” Keiji turned to Bokuto, who looked grumpy at the lack of attention he was getting.

“You do it, ‘Kashi.”

“Are you sure?”

Bokuto nodded vigorously and Keiji walked to the back line. You stood up towards the net while the other men backed up on the court.

“Nice serve,” you yelled.

“Shut up. He’s on the other team,” Tsukki said, sounding exasperated.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

“So, you should want to kick his ass,” Kuroo said. You laughed and Keiji hit the ball over the net.

It went to Tsukki, who easily bumped it up. It traveled high in the air, thank goodness. You were a little rusty, but this made it much easier on you.

“Left!” Kuroo called, hand in the air. You pushed the ball his way, satisfied at the way it lifted off your fingers. You missed this feeling. It landed right against Kuroo’s hand, who slammed it down. It barely grazed the top of Bokuto’s fingers before spinning off and hitting the ground. Kuroo ran for you immediately, grin on his face.

“That was great! I gotta say, I thought you were going to suck, but that was great.” He continued rambling as you turned to Tsukki.

“What did you think, tough guy? That was a nice receive.”

“It wasn’t that impressive. I just knew it had to go high so your dumbass could actually hit it.” He sneered as he spoke, but from the way he was rubbing his forearms you could tell he was excited too. Though he played on his own, you were sure he missed practicing with this group.

“I’d like to see one of your famous blocks next time,” you teased.

“Then tell Bokuto-san to receive the damn ball.” He turned away from you and walked to the back line.

“Hey!” Bokuto had gotten into a receiving position, hands on his knees waiting for your team to serve. You couldn’t help but notice how thick his thighs were, even through his sweatpants. “Can we go or is Tsukki-dude gonna keep complaining?”

“We’re going,” Tsukishima replied, picking up the volleyball that Keiji had rolled over to his feet. “Relax before you use up all the energy in your brain.” You couldn’t help but snicker. His responses were so quick. He was an ass, but he was charming in his own way.

Tsukishima took his place on the back line and easily popped the ball over the net. Bokuto received it and sent it up high. Keiji had to run for it but he got under the ball. Tsukishima and Kuroo took their places on the net, following Bokuto closely with their eyes. You backed up and bent your knees, ready to receive if they somehow missed it.

They didn’t miss it.

The ball hammered into Tsukishima’s hand and he flexed his fingers, sending it straight back down over the net. Kuroo hollered and slapped him on the back, while Bokuto drooped down and a pouty expression came over his face.

“It wasn’t a hard spike. I don’t know why you’re freaking out,” Tsukishima said as Kuroo continued chattering on about how much he’s improved.

“Aghashkiii,” Bokuto said. Tsukishima’s attention was on him in an instant, eyes twinkling.

“Oh fuck, it’s happening.” He gestured for you to come closer. “Shortie, are you watching?”

“Yes, I’m watching. What’s going on?” You approached and watched as your boyfriend’s shoulders fell in a deep sigh.

“Kashi, we have to switch,” Bokuto whined. “You can’t set it to me anymore.”

“Told you it’d be less than ten minutes,” Tsukishima said, expression smug.

“Is he gonna be okay?” you asked. Kuroo laughed.

“He’ll be fine,” he said. “He just needs his setter. Akaashi, on the other hand, will barely survive. He hasn’t had to deal with this in years.” You snickered, then briefly wondered if they knew about Bokuto and Keiji’s . . . antics back in the day.

“Does he do this on his pro team?” you asked.

“Not that I’ve seen. Either they’re better at managing it or Bokuto just goes full baby for Akaashi.” Kuroo rolled his eyes and walked away.

You laughed to yourself. What an idiot. However, he was an idiot that was wrapped around your boyfriend’s finger. Interesting.

“Bokuto-san, are you sure?” Keiji was saying. “Your setting isn’t very precise.”

“Apparently neither is my spiking.”

“Fine. Good luck.” Bokuto didn’t see Keiji shake his head as he spoke. Tsukishima grabbed the volleyball again, a wide smile on his face.

“God, I can’t wait to see this one,” he said, then raised his voice so the other men could hear him. “Akaashi, it’s coming to you!” Keiji nodded and got into position. Bokuto’s eyes were still wide and blank as he got closer to the net.

Tsukishima hit the ball right into Keiji’s arms. He bumped it up without much trouble and shouted for Bokuto.

“Get under the ball, Bokuto!” He backed up to start a spiking approach.

“I got it!” Bokuto sounded frustrated. He ran for the ball, settled underneath it, and . . .

It clattered to the gym floor behind him. His expression remained blank and focused on the air above him, even when his arms flopped down to his sides.

“Our point!” Tsukishima called, smiling again. He ducked to the other side of the net and grabbed the ball. He really was a brat.

“Bokuto --” Keiji started.

“I don’t want to play anymore,” Bokuto said, slumping to the gym floor.

“You can’t just give up like that,” Kuroo interjected, sounding more amused than frustrated.

“I can and I will. Let’s just go to dinner. I don’t want to be sweaty if we’re going somewhere nice.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were grateful that Keiji had convinced you to bring something nice to wear to the restaurant, otherwise you would have looked completely out of place. Kuroo had put his work clothes back on. Keiji had thrown on a sweater. Tsukishima wore a button-up and a vest and Bokuto was wearing a blazer with a t-shirt. Somehow, the outfits suited them.

“So,” Kuroo said between sips from a bottle of beer. “Akaashi has told us all about you.” You chuckled, pushing around the remaining rice on your plate.

“Is that so?” You glanced at Keiji, who sat beside you. His cheeks were slightly pink. He looked precious, like he was skating right on the edge of a giggle fit.

“Yep,” Kuroo continued. He had a sly smile on his face and looked all too happy to be talking to you. He leaned toward you across Tsukishima’s lap, who frowned and shoved him off. Kuroo flopped back down, leaning on an elbow on the table in front of his tall friend. “I’d say we know more about you than you know about us.”

“You know, that’s probably true.” You leaned on the table and matched his posture.

“Lame. Akaashi, why don’t you talk about us?”

Keiji took a deep sip of his drink and shook his head.

“Because I knew meeting you guys would do all the talking,” he said.

“What’s that mean?” Bokuto said a little too loudly, leaning into Keiji’s lap. Keiji looked down at him patiently, cheeks flushing a bit darker.

“It means your personalities are so aggressive that they need no explanation.”

“I’m not aggressive!”

“But your personality is.”

Bokuto frowned, not understanding but accepting the answer.

“So, what do you know about me?” you asked, turning back to Kuroo. He shrugged, staring into space to consider your question before giggling.

“What are you laughing at?” You narrowed your eyes at him. You knew exactly what he was thinking, but you wanted him to say it.

“The…nature…of your relationship with our boy Akaashi.”

“Yeah?” You tipped back your glass and grinned.

“We’ve heard all about it.”

“All?” You turned your face towards your boyfriend.

“Not even close,” he said through a smirk.

“What?” Kuroo asked, snapping his gaze to Keiji. “You’ve told us so much.”

“And there’s so much more to explore,” you said with a smug smile and exaggerated gesture.

“Yeah? With who?” Bokuto chimed in. You leaned over to Keiji.

“You’re right. That didn’t take long.” Keiji shook his head at your words and finished off his drink.

“I told you not to trust them,” he said. He turned his attention back to Bokuto. “With anyone, Bokuto-san.” Bokuto’s eyebrows nearly raised off his head.

“Anyone?”

“Anyone.”

“Truly anyone? Or are you one of those couples that acts like they’re kinky but really just watches porn together or something?” You were surprised that Tsukishima decided to chime in now, but you weren’t surprised by his comment. He was the type that had to see to believe. You narrowed your eyes at him and ran a finger down the back of his hand, which still clutched his glass on the table.

“Try me and find out,” you said. His eyebrows twitched and he looked away.

“Wait wait wait wait,” Kuroo cried, leaning over Tsukishima again. “Is that an offer?”

“What would you say if it was?” you asked. Keiji scoffed.

“Seriously?” Bokuto asked, eyes huge. You shrugged and looked at your boyfriend.

“What do you think, Kei?”

Tsukishima choked on his drink, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Kei?” he asked, a deep flush crawling up his cheeks.

“Jesus Christ,” Keiji said, rubbing his eyes. You laughed.

“Sorry, Tsukki. Short for Keiji.” Tsukki’s eyes remained trained on your face, looking not-quite-convinced with a hint of something you couldn’t quite place. You turned back to Keiji before you could get more distracted. “Well?” He let out a long sigh.

“Whatever you want, love.” He looked defeated, but you could tell he wasn’t unenthusiastic about the idea. You saw the way he had cupped a hand on Bokuto’s hip earlier, supposedly to keep him steady as he leaned into his lap. You couldn’t suppress a grin as you glanced back at the other men at the table. Bokuto looked confused, eyes still wide. Kuroo had paled, and Tsukishima seemed to still be reeling from you accidentally using his given name.

“Our place is closest,” you said. All three men looked like they had just been slapped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It started off awkard. There was plenty of time between your statement at the bar, getting the check, everyone finding their way back to your and Keiji’s shared apartment, and getting in a mental place where you could bring them all into your bedroom. Keiji had thrown a box of condoms and a small bottle of lube onto the foot of the bed, making everyone’s eyes go wide. Without kissing, touching, some sort of foreplay, it felt awkward, but truthfully, you had no connection to these men. They were just hot strangers that knew your boyfriend. You could do this.

“Who do you want first, love?” Keiji asked. You stared at the expectant faces in front of you. Kuroo’s eyes were glinting. He would be fun, but you didn’t want to jump into him right away. Tsukki was a silent brat, sitting on the couch with his arms crossed. You’d fix that later. He wasn’t a problem to deal with first.

“Bo?” you said. The large man perked up at your words, wide eyes trained on yours. “Come here, baby.” You gestured for him and he complied, swallowing hard as he crossed the room to you. You stood as he got to you and pushed him to a seated position on the bed.

“You seem eager, puppy,” you said, sinking to your knees in front of him. He inhaled sharply.

“I’m not--oh!” His sentence was cut off as you palmed him through his sweatpants.

“You aren’t what, Bo? You can tell me.”

“I-- shit.” His eyes fluttered closed as you established a slow rhythm, feeling him getting harder at your touch.

“You aren’t going to talk to me?” you pouted. You tried to sound sympathetic but you spoke through a small smile. “You haven’t been touched like this in a while, have you?” He shook his head and let out an unsteady breath.

“Want me to help?” you asked. “Want me to suck your cock?” There were several inhales from the wall behind you, but you kept going. You rose up a bit, keeping a hand between his legs as you kissed along his neck.

“Yes,” he breathed.

“Aw, puppy, you know you have to ask better than that.”

“Will you -- fuck -- will you suck my cock?”

“So close, Bo. What do you call me?” There was the sound of Tsukki saying “seriously?” before he made a quiet grunting noise. Someone had elbowed him in the side.

“Ma’am?” Bokuto asked.

“Is that what you want to call me?”

He inhaled sharply and your hand ground into him harder. “I don’t want to say it.”

“Aw, puppy, why? You know I’m here to help.” You closed your teeth lightly on his earlobe and he exhaled hard, making you almost worried for his poor lungs. You whispered into his ear. “I want to hear you call me something pretty when you come down my throat.” His hips bucked up into your hand and he muttered something under his breath.

“What did you say, Bo? I couldn’t hear you.”

“M--” his eyes darted to the other men standing against the wall. You grabbed his face and made him look at you.

“Don’t worry about them. What do you want to call me, pup?”

“Mommy,” he said, so quiet you could barely hear him. You drew in a sharp breath. You were expecting something good, but that exceeded expectations. Your reaction seemed to give him a little confidence, because he spoke louder this time. “Mommy, please suck my cock.”

“Jesus Christ,” said a voice behind you. It sounded like Kuroo.

You grinned. “Good boy. Help mommy take off your pants.”

He immediately did as he was told, tugging them off and letting you throw them to the side. He was big, a little longer and thicker than Keiji. You felt heat rising in your stomach imagining your boyfriend in this same position years ago, using his adept fingers and skilled tongue on the man sitting in front of you.

“So big, puppy,” you said, smiling up at him. Let me help.” Before he could respond you had settled your lips over the head of his cock, swirling your tongue before taking him in deeper. He swore loudly and buried a hand in your hair. You hummed at his noises and moved your head faster. The room was filled with lewd noises that were quickly drowned out by Bokuto’s breathy whimpers.

“Talk to her, Bokuto-san, don’t be shy,” Keiji said. This is why you loved Keiji. He could swap personalities so fast, especially with the right partner.

“Feels good,” Bokuto stuttered, head tipping back. You heard footsteps approaching and felt a warm figure kneeling down behind you.

“Good girl.” It was Keiji. He leaned his face into the side of yours and undid your pants, slipping his hand down the front of them. “So wet already, love. I knew you were a slut, but Jesus.” He slipped his fingers inside you for a moment, wetting them before circling your clit quickly. He had a setter’s hands, precise and sure in every movement. You moaned and took Bokuto all the way into your mouth. He exhaled sharply and swore above you.

“You look so pretty with his cock down your throat, darling. Go faster for him, yeah? He likes it.” You complied, bobbing your head up and down and eliciting a series of loud noises from Bokuto.

“I want you to come when he comes, love. You’ll be good and do that for me, right?” You hummed in what you hoped would be interpreted as agreement and you sunk into Keiji’s touch. He knew exactly what to do to send you reeling in no time at all.

“Bokuto-san, tell her when you’re about to cum, yeah?” Bokuto nodded frantically and Keiji slapped his thigh. Bokuto jumped at the sudden strike, bucking his hips deeper into your mouth. “Use your words, Bokuto-san.”

“Yes. Fuck. I will, I promise.”

“Good boy,” Keiji said, rubbing faster circles against you. You continued to moan and you felt Bokuto twitch in your mouth. You knew he was close and thankfully, you were, too.

“Close, ‘Kashi.”

“Tell them, not me.”

“Mommy, please.” Bokuto moaned loudly. “Gonna cum soon.” Keiji leaned in close to your ear again, never losing his pace on you.

“Don’t swallow. Make him clean up his mess,” he said. You reached behind and squeezed his arm so he knew you understood, shaking a bit with your own approaching orgasm.

“Fuck. Holy shit,” Bokuto groaned, hips bucking as he came into your mouth. You continued moving on him as Keiji sent you over the edge, moaning around Bokuto’s cock.

“Dirty girl,” Keiji said through a laugh, pulling his hand away and returning to the wall. You pulled off of Bokuto, making sure not to accidentally swallow as you straddled his lap. He twitched at your advances, staring wide-eyed at your still-full mouth.

“Mommy, too -- fuck. Too sensitive.” You smiled and pressed your lips against his. He parted his lips instinctively, allowing you to kiss his own cum into his mouth. He swallowed obediently, moaning a bit as he did so. You smiled into the kiss, grinding your hips a little against him. He inhaled in a panic and pulled away, burying his face into your chest. You laughed and ran a hand lovingly through his hair.

“Good boy, Bokuto. Such a good boy. Should we let Kuroo go next? Wanna watch him fuck mommy?” Bokuto nodded against you, chest still heaving. You turned your head to face the wall. Keiji was smirking. Kuroo’s face was bright red. Tsukki didn’t look too phased, although you could see that he was fully hard.

“Kuroo, hon,” you said. He stiffened and pushed off the wall. “Bokuto says he wants to watch you fuck me.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Don’t be difficult. Get over here.”

Kuroo swallowed hard and approached you. You planted a quick kiss on Bokuto’s head and climbed off of him. He let out a gasp at the loss and laid back on the bed.

“Where do you want me?” Kuroo asked. You stared down at his hands and the growing bulge in his shorts and shook your head.

“No. Tell me where you want me.” You began working off the buttons of his shirt.

He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

You nodded.

“Lay back.”

You smiled and did as you were told, scooting farther up onto the bed. Bokuto shifted so he wasn’t in the way. Kuroo smiled and leaned on top of you, capturing your lips in his. He was eager, tongue slipping easily into your mouth. You could still feel the happy curve of his lips as he moved against you, sliding one hand deep in your hair and the other curving around your waist. You kissed him back enthusiastically, surprised but delighted by the genuine affection. The hand on your waist slipped up under your shirt, like he wanted to pull it off but was too focused on the kiss to pull away. You tugged away from his lips and he followed, eyes still closed. You chuckled and sat up a bit under him, pulling your shirt over your head and capturing his face between your hands, pulling into another eager kiss. He breathed a sigh of appreciation and ran his hands over your newly exposed skin.

He pulled away and buried his face into the crook of your neck, kissing and lightly biting the sensitive skin. You sighed and tangled your hands in his insane hair. He kissed down, stopping just above the fabric of your bra. He tipped his head up to look at you, eyes bright. He licked his lips and you felt heat reaching the very tips of your fingers. You ran your fingers through his hair and nodded, giving him all the go ahead he needed to pull down the front of your bra and take a nipple into his mouth. You sighed again, grip in his hair tightening. He let out a huff at your reaction and circled his tongue. He bit down gently and you let out a gasp, locking your legs around his midsection.

“Kuroo,” you breathed. He didn’t break away from you, just let his eyes flicker up to meet yours. You felt a blissed out smile reach your lips at the sight. “Take off your fucking clothes.” He sucked harder on your chest for just a moment, eliciting a gasp from you, then leaned back down to kiss you again, grin on his lips. He only kissed you for a moment, tongue hungry in your mouth, before tugging his shirt over his head and throwing it to the side recklessly.

“Oi!” Tsukishima called out from the side of the room. You and Kuroo both laughed as you worked in tandem to get his belt loose and pants open, kissing clumsily as you went. As soon as you got them down and he kicked them to the side, you pulled your legs up and wiggled your pants down. Kuroo reached behind you and unclasped your bra (something that took even Keiji several tries and a hearty laugh) and began to kiss over your chest again. You tipped your head back and reached down, wrapping your hand around his already hard cock through his boxer briefs. He hissed against you, biting down where he was. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Jesus,” he said as he pulled away again, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your lace undergarments and tugging them down. He stared at you for just a second before snatching up a condom and ripping it open with his teeth. “Flip over,” he said, voice rougher. You complied instantly, breathing heavily from the kisses and adrenaline. You were faced with a stunned Bokuto, who you had forgotten was still laying -- or now, sitting up -- on the bed. You laughed and reached out for him. His eyes were wide as he laced his fingers through yours. From behind you, Kuroo teased your entrance. You sighed and leaned your head forward onto your arm, bracing yourself. He pushed in gently at first, shuddering out a deep breath at the contact. Impatiently, you pushed back onto him, feeling his full length sinking into you.

“Fuck,” he groaned. He leaned forward on top of you while your fingernails dug into the back of Bokuto’s hand. He began moving his hips slowly, the curve of his dick hitting perfectly inside of you. You leaned forward onto your hand, still clasped with Bokuto’s. Kuroo sped up his strokes, leaning back up and getting a bit rougher. His hands found their way to your hips, tugging you back against him as he moved. You choked out a moan as he pushed into you deeper with the new motion.

“Kuroo,” Keiji said. Kuroo apparently didn’t hear, swearing under his breath. Keiji scoffed. “Tetsuro!”

“Fuck -- what, Akaashi?”

“Don’t talk to me like that.” Kuroo ignored him, slowing down for a moment, hitting a particularly deep part of you that made you whine and bury your face further against Bokuto’s hand. “Kuroo, hit them.”

“What?” Kuroo sounded slightly incredulous, or at least as incredulous as he could sound when out of breath and buried inside of you.

“Spank. Them.”

Kuroo chuckled slightly and brought one of his hands back to rest on your ass, rubbing it before winding it back and landing a heavy smack against you. You bucked up at the motion, your back losing its arch for a moment. Your mouth fell open and you felt Bokuto reach up, running a finger along your lip in fascination. You looked up at him, tongue lolling out to make contact with the digit. His eyes widened and he pressed the finger onto your tongue. Kuroo landed another hit on your ass and you jumped forward, taking Bokuto’s finger far into your mouth. He shuddered out a breath. Kuroo smacked you again and you moaned loudly, still maintaining eye contact with Bokuto. His breath was picking up as he watched you, tongue swirling around his finger.

“God, you really like this, don’t you?” Kuroo asked, a smile evident in his voice. “What if I . . .” he reached forward and gathered the hair at the nape of your neck, tightening his fist so he was pulling it without yanking your head backwards. Your eyes fell shut and you let out a muffled moan, the sensation adding a layer of delicious pain on top of the pleasure racking your body.

“I knew it,” Kuroo continued. “Jesus, you’re fun.” He gasped, hips jumping slightly. You heard a scoff at his words. Your eyes flickered open and found the two men still sitting on the side of the room. Keiji was smiling, but Tsukishima looked like he was trapped in a haze, unable to fully comprehend what was happening in front of him. You pulled off of Bokuto’s finger with one last slide of your tongue. He shivered and brought his hand back against his chest.

“Tsukki,” you sang. Tsukishima looked up, eyebrow cocked. You let out a gasp and your eyes flickered closed for a second as Kuroo landed another smack. You smiled at the tall blond and the expression dropped off his face. “Come here, Tsukishima.” He rolled his eyes.

“You seem occupied,” he said, voice wavering just a bit. You bit down on your hand as Kuroo slowed down again, dragging his cock nearly fully out before steadily driving back in.

“Tsukishima, I’m not playing that game,” you managed through a gasp. “Get over here.” He rolled his eyes and stood, beginning to approach you. Your eyes met his hungrily. “Take off your shirt,” you said as he stopped in front of you. You moved so you could face him, Kuroo moving with you and adjusting to the new angle easily. Tsukishima made no move to follow your instruction, staring down at you with an unreadable but distinctly gruff expression on his face. You scoffed and reached out, grabbing his waistband and pulling him to you. You could see his dick, long and thin, fully hard through his slacks. Impatiently, you pulled at the button until it opened. You yanked down, freeing him from his pants and undergarments  in one motion. You wasted no time leaning forward and wrapping your lips around him, hollowing your cheeks and moaning as Kuroo picked up his pace again.

“Jesus fuck,” Kuroo gasped. Tsukishima didn’t look like he knew what to do with his hands, holding them up by his chest in surprise. You hummed around his cock, looking up at him. He held eye contact, previously cocky eyes wide. Kuroo let out a groan and dug the tips of his fingers into your hips.

“Fuck. I’m cl -- fuck!” he groaned, hips stuttering. He wasn’t even capable of finishing a coherent thought, pounding into you from behind. He moved your entire body with each stroke, making you involuntarily take Tsukishima deeper into your mouth at every forward motion. Tsukki finally relaxed a bit, hands gently burying in your hair as Kuroo’s swearing got louder. He leaned down, supporting himself with one arm on the bed and the other wrapped around your midsection. He plucked at your nipples, elliciting surprised sounds from you that were muffled against Tsukishima.

You felt the moment Kuroo came. His face pushed into your back, panting breaths heavy against your skin as his hips broke their rhythm. He pulsed inside of you, dragging a groan from deep in your chest. Tsukishima’s grip on your hair tightened and he let out a sharp hiss, clearly trying to hold back any noise.

Kuroo finally pulled out and tipped away from you, probably realizing how close he was to Tsukishima. He stood up and took a few steps back, brushing his black hair, now sticky with sweat, out of his eyes. You popped your mouth off of Tsukishima and ran your hands up quickly, popping the buttons of his shirt open from the bottom up.

“What--” he started. You cut him off.

“Bo, baby, move.” Your order was gentle but firm. Bokuto recognized your tone immediately, scrambling pantsless up from the bed and moving out of your way. You sat up on your heels and pulled on Tsukishima’s shoulders, pushing him down onto the bed. He sat down and backed against the headboard, brows furrowed. His face flushed when he looked down and realized he was fully exposed, but you remedied that easily, crawling into his lap and silencing whatever snarky remarks were boiling in his brain to calm his nerves. You planted a heated kiss against his lips.

He was a gentler and less smiley kisser than Kuroo, but more precise. Every movement of his tongue felt like a calculated effort, feeling out your weak spots and taking advantage of them once he found them. You sighed and sat farther down in his lap, grazing his cock between your legs. You ground down slightly before realizing -- shit. You were so distracted by the kiss that you almost forgot. You leaned back, breaking the kiss but remaining in his lap. You snatched up a condom and wagged it in front of Tsukishima’s eyes. He scoffed.

“No need to act so giddy,” he said. You just smiled at him, taking in the vision of the red faced man in front of you. His lips were slick and parted, like he was desperately waiting for another kiss, and his glasses were slowly de-fogging. You laughed and captured his lips in yours again, biting lightly at his bottom lip and just barely teasing him with your tongue. When you pulled away, he followed you slightly, then immediately sat back and blinked, like he was trying to cover up the motion. You huffed a laugh and slid his glasses off his face.

“Kashi,” you said, holding them out behind you without breaking eye contact with Tsukishima. You felt them leave your hand and you returned your touch to Tsukki’s face, running your thumb along his bottom lip.

“Cute,” you mumbled, nearly laughing again at the way his face turned an even darker shade of red.

“Agashi,” Bokuto whined behind you. You laughed and peered over your shoulder. Bokuto was squirming. He had put his boxer-briefs back on, but you could see that he was hard again, probably painfully so.

“Keiji, love, take care of him,” you said, carefully putting on the gentle tone you used with Bokuto. Keiji slid next to Bokuto, whose eyes were now wide, and you turned back to Tsukishima knowing your boyfriend had everything under control. You heard Bokuto gasp and Kuroo mutter “Jesus,” but you just held the condom up to Tsukishima’s mouth. He looked at you with confusion written on his face.

“What?” he asked.

“Open,” you replied, holding it closer to his mouth. His eyes grew wide but he leaned in, opening his mouth and closing his teeth on the wrapper. You smirked at him and tugged at the foil. You pulled out the condom when it was finally open and tossed the wrapper from Tsukishima’s lips to the side. You replaced it with your lips as you moved your hand between your legs and slipped the condom onto Tsukki. He gasped at the contact, leaning his head back against the headboard. You followed him with your lips and deepened the kiss as you wrapped a hand around him, lining him up with your entrance. You sunk down, not giving either of you a chance to really react until he was fully sheathed inside of you. He broke from your lips and leaned his forehead against your cheek. He let out a shuddering gasp and wrapped his arms around your waist. You turned your face and kissed his forehead, then lifted up slightly and sunk back down onto him. He gasped and you began to rock more steadily, slowly picking up the energy and pace.

“Fuck,” he muttered. His head fell to the crook of your neck and he let out a sigh, fingers burying into your skin.

“God, you feel good, Tsukki,” you breathed into his hair. He grunted in response, lips pursing to kiss at your skin. You sighed and tipped your head back, exposing more of your neck to his eager lips. His hands shifted to your hips and he gripped them tightly, pulling down as you slid over him, making him hit you somehow even deeper. You gasped and threw your arms around his neck.

“Shit,” you whispered as he took control of your pace, pulling you down hard. “Tsukki,” you sighed, ruffling his hair.

“I--” he started, but was cut off by a sweet, choked sound that came from deep in his throat. “Say my name again.”

“Tsukki,” you said. He shook his head against you. As he tipped his head up towards yours, you heard the familar click of the lube cap and felt weight sink onto the edge of the bed. You were unsure who it was until Bokuto let out a strangled gasp. Ah. Keiji really was taking care of him. You pressed a quick kiss against Tsukishima’s lips and leaned your forehead against his.

“Say my name like earlier,” he said. “The other one.” Your eyes widened and you smiled.

“Are you sure, Kei?” you teased. He groaned. “Aw, you like that?” He didn’t respond, but his face was screwed up into a look of concentration and pleasure that almost looked like pain.

“Again.”

“You feel so good, Kei.” He moaned, a sound you didn’t think you were going to be lucky enough to hear. “So good. Fuck, Kei.” You scattered his name into bouts of praise and swearing. He removed one of his hands from you, making you have to keep up the pace with your hips. You didn’t understand why until his thumb pressed firmly against your clit, starting to draw small, focused circles against it. Your hips stuttered out of pace and you moaned, tightening your grip around his neck. You were so oversensitive from Kuroo and Keiji’s advances that the movement on your clit was almost too much. Your breathing was coming in gasps.

“Bokuto-san, relax,” you heard Keiji say, though it felt like it was a thousand miles away.

“Get off of my fucking foot,” Tsukishima said, sounding frustrated even though the words were strained. Your eyebrows pinched together, frustrated.

“Move, Bokuto,” Keiji said, and you felt the weight shift again.

“Kei,” you said, loud enough to give Tsukishima pause. “Don’t pay attention to them.” He looked suprised.

“I --” he started.

“No.” You cut him off with a particularly devastating buck of your hips, and his expression changed. Just a moment later, though, he was glancing behind you at the source of the muffled gasps and whines behind you. You grabbed him by the jaw and stopped moving.

“Open,” you said. His eyebrows knit together.

“What?”

“Open.” You ran your thumb down his bottom lip, holding it for a moment before he complied. You leaned above him and spat.

Shock was the first thing to flash over Tsukki’s eyes, followed very quickly by something dark. He swallowed, staring into your eyes like you just set him on fire.

“Learn your lesson?” you asked. He said nothing, but his hands returned to your hips and dug into them, like he was begging you to move. “Good,” you said through a smile. You began to rock into his lap once more.

He let out a genuine moan, choppy and desperate and gorgeous. It was like that one motion made him yours, completely. His thumb returned to your clit, rubbing faster and more desperate circles. You crashed your lips into his, moaning into his mouth as he returned the favor. There was something so intimate in his motions. It was hard to believe this Tsukishima was the same asshole from earlier.

“Fuck, Kei, I’m close,” you said. Tsukki nodded, forehead still pressed against yours.

“Come with me,” he mumbled. If you weren’t so close to him you wouldn’t have believed he said it, but sure enough, you were both leaning against each other like your lives depended on it. He started swearing, small “fuck”s that grew in volume the closer he got. You could feel yourself reaching the peak, eyes squeezing shut and body locking. Right when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, right when you were about to beg Tsukishima to hurry up and finish so you could die against him, his grip around you tightened. He could still move you, riding out his orgasm inside of you, but he squeezed you so close you thought you could shift into his chest if you really wanted to. Your body shook, jerking involuntarily against his thumb. Both of you were panting, and it felt like the world went black around you as you kept your faces pressed together.

You couldn’t tell when the moment ended, but when it did Tsukishima was kissing along your shoulders and allowing you to slump against him, arms barely holding you up.

“Why don’t you lay down?” he whispered, and you nodded, feeling almost drunk. You swung your leg off of him, shuddering at the loss of him inside of you. He laughed at your reaction and pressed a kiss against your forehead as you laid on your back.

“Love, scoot closer,” you heard Keiji say. Fuck. They weren’t done with you yet. You opened your eyes to finally see what had been happening behind you while you were falling apart in Tsukishima’s lap.

Bokuto was laying on his back, legs pitched up slightly. Keiji’s hand was pressed flush up against him, preparing him for who knows what else. Your eyes widened and, without thinking, you did what your boyfriend told you to do.

“Bokuto, turn around,” Keiji said, and Bokuto did as he was instructed. He looked blissed out and shaky, but allowed himself to be pushed forward until his face was laying against one of your thighs. He smiled up at you, as if he was greeting an old friend intead of laying ass up with your boyfriend positioning himself behind him.

“Y/n, open your legs.” Fuck. Bokuto’s cheeks flushed and he turned to look back at Keiji.

“‘Kashi, I--” He was cut off by one slow, perfect thrust by Keiji. You did as you were told, staring up at Keiji’s face in awe. His eyes had closed and he looked unbelievably content.

“You know what to do, Bokuto,” he said. “Just make sure you breathe.”

With that, Bokuto buried his mouth against you.

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation, like Keiji’s commands were magic. He had been like this as long as you had known him, but judging by the surprised sounds Kuroo and Tsukki made, it wasn’t the Akaashi they knew.

Bokuto seemed hungry, like you were the one thing holding him back from starvation. His tongue made long strokes against you, making your hips shake. He stopped every so often to focus on your clit, swirling his tongue or sucking harshly. You weren’t even sure what kind of noises you were making at this point, just that someone was making a lot of sound and it was more than likely you. Akaashi’s thrusts were slow and deep, making Bokuto groan against you. It was an overwhelming feeling, your boyfriend fucking someone else into you. With how oversensitive you were, you didn’t think you’d last long.

Your orgasm wasn’t a slow build this time. It was choppy and harsh, almost painful as Bokuto sucked enthusiastically on your clit. Your legs couldn’t stay open on their own, crushing his head between your thighs as you made a panicked noise. The rumble of another groan from Bokuto is what sent you over, back arching and head leaning back into the bed. You were breathless, not making much sound as your body reacted out of your control. You had to push Bokuto off of you and slide away in order to get him to stop. He was so eager it seemed like he would have tried for another if you hadn’t escaped.

Now all you could do was watch as Akaashi leaned forward, taking Bokuto’s cock in his hand and timing movement with his hips. Bokuto was drooling onto the bed, making the sweetest whining noises you had ever heard. He came quickly after that, crying Akaashi’s name into the comforter as his lower body jerked. Akaashi fucked him through it and followed soon behind, face scrunching and breaths coming out as gasps.

Bokuto collapsed against the bed as Keiji pulled out, yanking off the condom and tucking himself back into his slacks like nothing had happened. God, he was a piece of work sometimes.

You stood, collecting your clothing from the floor. You pulled on your shirt, not bothering with your bra. You didn’t even know where it was.

You missed the left leg hole of your pants twice before Kuroo finally wrapped an arm around you and helped you get them up, even buttoning them for you once they were on.

“Well,” you said, but it came out strained. You coughed, smiling up at the group of men. “That was . . .” You couldn’t finish the sentence, letting out a choppy laugh instead.

“That was,” Kuroo agreed, laughing with you.

“If you guys would be willing . . .” Tsukishima said.

“Can we please do that again?” Bokuto said, a bit too loud for the room. Keiji’s eyes grew wide.

“Not right now!” he said. Bokuto laughed.

“Not right now. But sometime?” They all turned to face you, looking precious and eager. You laughed, then sighed heavily.

“Absolutely.”

[ghoulangerlee]

kisses on the forehead or kisses from behind for Malex😊

so it takes me a while to write oops, but I didn't quite have inspiration but then 3x08 happened and well... y'know. I GUESS this could be considered a 3x08 coda because it takes place after The Kiss sorta. I haven't watched 3x09 yet so.

So, this is just. sweet and syrupy smut; there's both forehead kisses and kisses from behind ;;

Really though, sometimes you just wanna see Michael fucking Alex and like, write what you wanna see and all that hahaha.

Posted on tumblr bc I'm in denial that I'm writing for this fandom oop. (Side note: If you wanna support a writer I do have a ko-fi :). Please be gentle this is the first time I've written smut since like, before April this year.)

it's all under the read more because it immediately starts as smut, sorry adlkfjd.

------

Michael drops a tender kiss to the back of Alex’s neck as he settles on his knees between Alex’s spread legs, one hand curled around his thigh, shifting it outward until he’s spread just so.

Alex sighs out Michael’s name, turning his head to the side so he can watch the man from the corner of his eye—the early morning light is just now coming through the slats of the blinds, peeking through the curtains and it bathes Michael in a warm glow that almost makes everything feel like a dream.

It’s not though, a dream, finally after so much time apart, he—they can have this again, but slower now, less of a crash landing and more like coming home.

“This comfortable?” Michael’s voice is barely above a whisper, his words spoke into the soft skin behind Alex’s ear as he settles his weight down onto Alex.

A hum forces it’s way out of Alex’s throat, soft and pleased as he bends his other knee a little, using the leverage to push back against Michael, feeling where the other man is hard and ready, “S’good,” he finally manages, the words thick in his mouth, syrupy.

A soft hiss falls from Michael’s lips, the rush of cool air against Alex’s skin making him shudder, already so over sensitive from the soft, careful touches that Michael had woken him up with that morning. “I think we can make it better than just good,” he whispers, pressing another kiss behind Alex’s ear, “You up for it?”

Alex snorts softly, reaching back to halfheartedly swat at Michael’s side, the early morning must be getting to him, the new vulnerability of the two of them being together make Alex a little sentimental, a little honest, and before he can stop himself—“I’d been hoping for something like this for longer than I’d been willing to admit to myself.” He admits, voice quiet but clear, “I couldn’t dare to hope and now…”

Though he trails off, Michael seems to understand the implication as he shifts to the side, just enough to make the next kiss land somewhere near Alex’s lips, and when Alex turns his head just right, he catches Michael’s mouth in a kiss so sweet and slow that Michael’s weight presses him down more into the bed as a warm hand curls around his jaw, taking some of the strain off, holding him there for several long moments.

Distantly, Alex realizes that it’s Michael’s left hand, something that was once a reminder that what they had couldn’t be anything beyond a secret somewhere in the desert, but now—there’s no bandana wrapped around his hand anymore, there hasn’t been last night when Michael kissed him at the Pony, either, and something releases in his chest, something warm and happy—love.

“Michael,” Alex murmurs when they finally break apart, “Michael, I need—”

Michael’s lips press against Alex’s temple, “I’ve got you,” he whispers, dropping another kiss to his hairline before he pulls back, grabbing for the lube he’d tucked under his shin earlier, trying to warm it.

He smooths a hand down Alex’s back, shushing him softly when he makes a noise of discontent, “I’m not going nowhere,” he promises, voice low and full of intent, “Finally got you where I want you and I plan to take advantage of it.”

As he speaks, he’s squeezing lube onto his fingers, spreading it slowly as he closes the cap and drops it back down to bed, “Easy now,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Alex’s shoulder blade as he presses a finger into him slowly.

“Michael,” Alex breathes out then, at the careful, gentle touch, slow and easy like they’ve got all the time in the—

Oh. He realizes as Michael’s finger slides in deeper, they do have time now, they can afford themselves this luxury of taking things slow, of exploring each other and relearning everything that drives the other crazy.

“Michael,” he says again, clenching his fingers in the sheets, pressing his forehead against his wrist as he squeezes his eyes shut at the sudden onslaught of emotion that seizes him.

It’s new and he thinks, briefly that he might be moving way too fast in the grand scheme of things but this is what love feels like. This is what loving Michael Guerin is supposed to be.

Michael presses a kiss to Alex’s shoulder, “You still with me?” he murmurs, curling his finger in a way that has Alex gasping and shifting under him. “Seems like you’re thinking too hard for what’s going on right now.” He whispers the words into Alex’s skin, and Alex can feel the curl of his lips as he says it, playful and teasing.

“Thinking about you,” Alex manages, the words muffled into the skin of his wrist, “Always thinking about you.”

Michael hums at that, and Alex hears the click of the lube cap again before another finger presses inside him, the suddenness causing him to gasp, “I’m right here, baby,” he says, voice filled with soft amusement, “Don’t have to think that hard about me.”

When Alex groans this time, it’s mostly out of exasperation, “Michael,” he says, “Don’t be a dick.”

Michael laughs then, leaning over to press a kiss to Alex’s temple, “Darlin’,” he coos, “I’m just teasing you, helping you relax a little,” he murmurs, “Tryin’ not to blow my load while I finger you, baby. Thinkin’ about how after all this time, it finally feels like I’ve come home.”

“Jesus,” Alex groans, “I’m not going to last if you keep talking like that,” he says, with the slightest hint of desperation in his voice.

Michael hums, pressing another kiss to Alex’s temple, “Think you can handle another?”

“Could probably take you now,” Alex murmurs, shifting under Michael again, a little in impatience, a little to get friction against his dick, “Didn’t want to come across as too easy or too much so soon, but—”

Michael shushes him again, “I’ve always liked how easy you get for me,” he whispers into Alex’s ear, “How much you wanted to be with me back then. Always eager to get your hands on me, always wanting mine on you…” he smiles when he feels Alex shiver, “It’s okay to want things, and I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you get them.”

Alex makes a punched out sort of noise, “I want to feel you,” he admits quietly, shifting under Michael again, “Next time, we can go slower, you can draw it out for hours if you want, I just…”

“I’m going to hold you to that offer for next time,” Michael murmurs with a smile, “I’d love to get you all desperate and eager for me, keep you like this for however long I want,” he presses a kiss to Alex’s temple, then cheek, then jaw, “But this time, we’ve both wanted this for so long, I’d be a fool to draw it out for much longer.”

Alex makes some sort of noise in agreement and within the next few minutes, Michael is carefully sliding his fingers out of Alex, pressing a lingering kiss to the center of his back before the weight disappears—

Before he can think too much, before his lust addled mind can protest, Michael’s back, and suddenly, Alex’s need to see Michael kicks his hard in the ribs, “Michael, Michael,” he says, and his voice sounds strange to his own ears, “Michael, I want to see you, please.”

Michael’s weight disappears for a moment, and then his hands, warm and only the slightest bit sticky from lube are on his sides, helping him roll over until he’s spread out almost in the center of the bed, staring up at Michael with flushed cheeks and half lidded eyes.

“There you are,” Michael says with a warm smile, settling between Alex’s spread legs, his palms resting against Alex’s inner thighs now, pushing outward just enough for Alex to feel the stretch of it, “Like this?”

Alex nods, pushing himself up with one hand so he can curl his other arm around Michael’s shoulders, pulling him down until their chests are pressed together, tilting his head up so he can meet Michael’s lips in a kiss—he throws every single feeling he can’t put into words into that kiss, curling his fingers into the back of Michael’s hair, tugging him closer.

Michael goes easily, one hand gently cupping Alex’s jaw to kiss him back just as sweetly.

“I love you,” Alex whispers when they part, breathing heavily, lips parted and red, tempting and Michael kisses him again, harder this time, a little more desperate.

Michael pulls away moments later, resting their foreheads together, “I love you too,” he whispers into the space between their lips.

Alex smiles up at him, his cheeks flushed, eyes bright and happy and Michael makes a soft noise, “Jesus, Manes, you’re going to kill me.”

“Only in good ways, I hope,” Alex says, running his fingers through Michael’s hair, “Now,” he murmurs, nudging Michael’s side with his knee, “I believe we were in the middle of something?”

Michael huffs softly, fondly, shaking his head at Alex before leaning down for another quick kiss, “You’ve got me all distracted again,” he mumbles, leaning back as Alex drops back down onto the bed, laughing softly to himself and looking so happy that Michael almost wishes he could take a picture of this moment and keep it somewhere he can look at it whenever he feels the self-doubt sink in.

“Let me distract you in other ways, then,” Alex says with a grin, finding the lube, half wedged under his thigh now, “I think you know what to do from here, right?” he asks, tilting his head in question.

Michael shakes his head, laughs and takes the lube from Alex, shifting closer as he squeezes some lube into his palm, “You’re the one who kept distracting me,” he says, hissing softly as he takes himself in hand.

Alex bites his lower lip as he watches Michael touch himself, “Uh huh, just giving you a chance to get yourself under control so it’s not over in two minutes,” he teases, raising an eyebrow at Michael when he looks up, “Now come on,” he says, somewhat impatiently. “I need you, Michael.”

Michael huffs softly, uses the hand already around his dick to steady it as he pulls Alex’s hips further into his lap, pressing the head teasingly against where Alex wants him the most—he waits, listens to the hitch in Alex’s breath before he pushes inside, slow.

It’s incredible, like coming home all over again and something that now Michael’s sure he could never live without.

Alex’s hands grab for Michael’s biceps, head pushing back against the bed as he moans, half Michael’s name, half gibberish, curling one leg around Michael’s lower back, trying to pull him closer.

“I’ve got you,” Michael whispers, breathless, leaning close to press kisses along the curve of Alex’s jaw, “I’ve got you baby,” he repeats, feeling one of Alex’s hands come up to cup the back of his neck, holding him close, “Fuck, you feel amazing, so good for me, Alex.”

Alex makes a soft noise, shifting his hips further into Michael’s lap, “I missed this,” he admits with a sigh, sliding his palm up Michael’s arm, across his shoulder, “Missed us being together like this, feeling you like this.” He tilts his head, catching Michael’s lips in a sweet kiss. “You can move,” he murmurs into it. “I’m ready.”

The first several thrusts are slow, a little shaky, as if Michael can’t seem to believe he’s actually allowed to have this again, that this isn’t a dream, that Alex is here and real under him, whispering soft words of pleasure against his mouth.

Michael rests his forehead against Alex’s shoulder and Alex’s arms come around him, holding onto him as each near breathless affirmation grows in volume, Alex’s hands petting along his upper back, nails scratching against skin so gentle that Michael almost wants to cry—

“Faster,” Alex murmurs into Michael’s ear, palms spreading out against Michael’s skin as he digs his heel into Michael’s lower back, “Wanna feel it, Michael,” he whispers, “Wanna feel you all day, wanna remember this when I’m alone,” he drags his nails lightly up the center of Michael’s back, feeling him shudder under his touch, feels his hips quicken, feels the way Michael grabs him with both hands, hitching him higher into his lap, “That’s it—”

Michael makes a noise, something low and guttural as he pulls back from Alex’s shoulder, his lips finding Alex’s in a desperate kiss; deepening it almost immediately in a way that has Alex groaning into it, digging his nails harshly into Michael’s back.

“Gonna make you come first,” Michael mumbles as he pulls away, “Touch yourself for me, show me how good I’m making you feel, baby.” He brushes his nose gently against Alex’s before he’s glancing between them, watching Alex wrap a hand around himself, trying desperately to keep up with the quick pace Michael’s set.

It doesn’t take long after that, never takes long when they really get into it, Alex realizes somewhere distantly, they’d always been compatible sexually, everything about it explosive and mind blowing no matter the situation—but now, with Michael pressing kiss after kiss to every inch of exposed skin he can reach, with Michael whispering soft words against his shoulder, his chest, fucking into him just right, Alex can’t help himself—he gasps Michael’s name, long and low as he arches, feels Michael’s hand cover his as he comes, and together they stroke him through it until he’s sensitive and gasping, nudging their hands away with a shudder of almost too much.

Alex pulls him into another kiss, mostly gasping against Michael’s mouth, quietly urging Michael to keep moving, to keep going; half words of love and praise fall from his lips as Michael breaks away from the kiss, resting his forehead against Alex’s shoulder again, holding his hips tight enough to leave behind bruises and—fuck what a thought that is, and if Alex could get hard again, he probably would, at the thought of Michael marking him in a way that no one could see but the both of them would know.

“Come, Michael,” Alex whispers, tangling his fingers in Michael’s hair, giving it a light tug, turning his head to press a wet kiss to his temple, “Come for me, baby, let me feel you,” he murmurs, wrapping his free arm around Michael’s shoulders, holding onto him tight even as the shocks of overstimulation become just on the side of too much—he gasps when Michael’s teeth close over his skin, right on the curve of his shoulder and with one more good tug of his hair, Michael’s swearing softly into his skin, hips moving in quick, short thrusts as if he can’t help it.

Alex feels the warmth, the way Michael’s thrusts taper off until he’s pressed as close to Alex as he can, buried deep inside him, gasping wetly against his shoulder as he comes down from his high, Alex’s hands gentle now, one petting over his sweaty back, the other gently scratching Michael’s scalp.

“Fuck,” Michael eventually mutters, pulling back so he can look down at Alex, “We’ve still got it, huh?” he asks, face adorably flushed, looking completely fucked out as Alex feels and Alex laughs, gently pulling Michael down into another kiss.

Michael goes to pull back, to separate them, to clean up, but Alex just makes an impatient noise against his mouth, tugging him deeper into the kiss, into his embrace, until Michael’s weight is resting fully on Alex, pressing him down into the bed.

When they finally do separate, Alex laughs a little, brushing Michael’s hair back from his face, “I know we should clean up, maybe get breakfast, but I kind of want you right here for a little bit longer.” He admits softly, framing Michael’s face with his hands. “We have a lot to do still and I’m not ready for this to end just yet.”

“The afterglow?” Michael asks, leaning into Alex’s touch, eyes fluttering closed, smiling when Alex hums in reply. “I think we can stay like this a little bit longer, don’t think the world’s gonna end just yet.

Alex glances over at the window, where the curtain’s parted just enough to let in the early morning light—and Michael huffs a little, waves his hand as the curtains close on their own, the room suddenly a little darker than before.

“Michael,” Alex says, snatching his phone out of the air from where it’s floating just beside them, “What—”

“Set an alarm, give us an hour, and then, we’ll get ready and go save the world,” Michael says, “I think we can afford that, don’t you?”

Alex looks between his phone, at the time across the screen—it’s not even nine yet, and then he looks down at Michael who’s staring up at him with such a look of love that Alex’s heart seizes in his chest, “Okay,” he finally says, “Okay, yeah,” he blindly fumbles his way through setting an alarm, tossing his phone down onto the bed when he’s done, “An hour. Breakfast then? We can go to the Crashdown, together,” he says, extra emphasis on the word together.

Michael’s smile is bright, and he leans down, presses a kiss to Alex’s mouth, “I knew I could convince you,” he says, shifting enough to rest his head on Alex’s chest, “An hour for us and then we’ll face the world together.”

[number1villainstan]

episode 36, And Thus Opens the Doorway of Night. please god let someone bitchslap Akio in this one. is this where touga's gonna duel utena?

review of touga and saionji's little scheming together. if it hurts akio i want it to succeed

NO NO GODDAMNIT NO UTENA NO. damn akio really is fucking with the camera here, why does this look so romantic it's not romantic it's fucking grooming and god, the way utena actually just. lets akio call her 'princess' when her whole thing was that she wanted to be a prince. god. :((((((((((

how long has it been since we've seen juri and miki??

"she looks like a girl to me now" mmmmmm don't like those implications

"the day of the revolution is approaching" even juri and miki are feeling the anticipation. and so is the audience

touga copying akio again, with his own vehicle and taking saionji for a ride. and saionji's like "bitch *i* wanna top"

"just do what end of the world wants?" THAT'S RIGHT SAIONJI HIT TOUGA IN THE FACE WITH HIS FAILINGS AND HYPOCRISY

"innocent and sweet, an unmatched princess" THAT'S NOT HOW UTENA IS SUPPOSED TO BE SHUT THE FUCK UP AND FUCK OOOOOOFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

"standing like that is dangerous" "right" lmaooooo

touga's openly flirting with utena and she's just...taking it. God. this is like episode 12 all over again except utena's hiding her depression better

"so many stars out" and we all know stars are linked to akio

sooooo they're just up here to watch the stars? touga doesn't have anything important to say?

...anything except feminizing utena further and reinforcing the same messages that akio's giving her, that is?

fucking slap some sense into him, utena

a vase full of light blue roses, the kind that saionji wears when dueling

and then switches to touga light red--and one of them explodes? okay there's definitely something here, about the two and their own emotions, but idk what exactly

wait was that miki blue? with a rose exploding?

and then juri orange?? so it's just cycling through all the duelists???

and then the white rose. single. alone. jesus fuck.

"if she wins the last duel, she'll fall into End of the World's hands" well then! i hope she stabs him

dammit saionji don't just lay down on anthy's lap without asking permission

win and never have to duel again for the rose bride, or lose and become touga's "woman". he's not telling her the whole truth. like fr. is he trying to keep her away from akio by making her his? i don't think that's how it's going to work dude.

shadow girl play: mixing up the "white horse of the prince" for the "prince of the white horse." "you really want your prince to be a horse?" well yeah, a horse can't order her around

the way saionji reaches around from behind to pull touga's sword, instead of going from the front--like he feels like he's "behind" him, or lesser than him, or something like that?

"end of the world, selfishly enjoy yourself" as lyrics in the song--oh i think they're talking about akio

damn, utena's doing better in this duel v touga than in her last duel v touga

oh! and the cars--symbol of adulthood, symbol of masculinity--are now going after utena instead of crashing into touga--because touga is akio's apprentice, touga knows how to use adulthood and masculinity as tools to help him get what he wants--

touga promises to protect utena (which is condescending, but arguably she does need some protection from akio, which is what touga is specifically trying to protect her from). but utena promised to protect anthy (which is, again, maybe a little bit condescending, but anthy does also arguably need protection from akio, but utena doesn't realize that and is only saying "protect" as a vague, general term--utena does not realize the danger that she are anthy are in). parallels

the sword of dios, with anthy's power, defeated the cars--the ideal of a prince in the end defeated the symbol of adult masculinity--akio's fucking in for it now >:D

"it won't be over until we see the very end" these motherfuckers do not give up. good for them

utena's gonna discover it! and hopefully turn away from akio please god please

anthy's dead face...god...and she knows utena is there...

Oh also, along with writing the December 2023 Monthly Short Piece today, I finally watched the first episode of Revolutionary Girl Utena after days of seeing a moot post about it and--

"I am the Rose Bride. From this day forward, I belong to you."

i am going to murder everyone in this damn school for anthy

[actualbird]

// spoilers for marius' skadi card, SSR Daytime Aurora, bulk reactions, LONG POST, suicide ment (i didnt expect it either, JESUS)

mc, helping marius interview locals for his paintings: hello, what is the most beautiful scenery in this country to you?

tourist: the hot springs

mc: huh? why?

me: WE'RE OFF TO A GREAT FUCKING START IN THIS CARD LMAOOOOOO. mc, girl, let him. let him paint it. LET HIMMMM!!

i cant believe this, marius rlly showed up to her room a DRENCHED MESS, like a SAD LITTLE KITTY CAT that was SPLASHED WITH WATER RELENTLESSLY as it meowed helplessly ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD

and hes warming up by showering with the door open. whore.

WAIT THEY DIDNT EXPLAIN HOW HE GOT SOPPING WET THOUGH???/ like okay he admitted to going back to the diner and talking to grumpy owner and that they had a disagreement but nO DETAILS as to how the "accident" or him coming to her doorstep like a soaked creature???

WHAT IS THE TRUTH???

fuck off, this is making me cry a little bit.....never not gonna be affected by trope of "something beautiful is happening but character A is only looking at character B" FUCK OFFOOFOFFFFFF

AND OF COURSE HE GOT SICK!!!! he was a silly wet kitten just yesterday and u guys r in fictional iceland in the WINTER and hes coughing bc the breathing apnea is kicking irt to the temp and hHHHHHHH MC IS SO WORRIED IM GONNA EAT BRICKS

OF COURSE IT'S TOO DANGEROUS TO DRIVE BACK

AND OF COURSE THERES NO CELL SIGNAL

it's time for sickfic and cuddling for warmth in the TUNDRA NOW

fuck my entire life, hes adorable

marius, honey, ur lungs r tryna give out due to ur State. kudos for teasing even then.

god i hate this, i HATE IT. not only is luke pearce a mfer who will hide symptoms/illness/anything that is worrying from mc to avoid causing her worry, MARIUS DOES IT TOO. //SHAKES HIM LIKE A MARACCA. UR COUGHS SOUND HORRENDOUS PLS....

HARDEST CHOICE IN THE GAME THUS FAR

IM NOT FUCKING STRONG ENOUGH FOR THIS!!!

me: okay the emo is over, everything is gonna b okay now it's fine

the card: the reason the bar owner was upset and grumpy was because he had failed to witness the aurora for years. auroras are believed to be the dead trying to speak to the living. the diner was empty bc the owner fired everybody and was planning to kill himself to be with his dead wife. marius had talked the dude outta killing himself, saying some things that hit hard to the point that theres enough implication he knows enough about suicidal people that he recognized it in the owner from the very beginning. the owner angrily asks what marius would know about grief and death. and marius just replies with "..." and then the owner pushes and marius crashes into a wine rack. happy? u got ur explanation for why he was drenched!

me: IM NOT FUCKING HAPPY, U PELTED AT ME MARIUS' DEAD-MOM TRAUMAGRIEF AND A SUICIDAL CHARACTER WHEN I WAS LEAST EXPECTING IT!!!!!!!

ok all in all this was a rlly sweet card, i loved it a lot

and now for depressing unnecessary character ramblings under the cut

my first instinct when marius was revealed to have understood the owner was suicidal at the first glance was that marius recognized the details from himself. DEPRESSING, I TOLD YOU!!! but it's something i can see happening to marius, esp since he was super fucking guilty about his mom's death ever since he was young. if you take guilt far enough, sometimes the only forgiveness thatll ever feel right is...well...that.

ofc story goes on to say the actual reason: marius met a man a few months ago who asked him to approve a shitty business proposal and marius said no and that dude killed himself. the look of "determination and desperation" in that man's eyes were how marius was able to recognize the signs in the bar owner

which, at first, made me go "eh" but then after 5 seconds of thought i was like "oh fuck, no, that does thematically vibe" it vibes particularly with marius' misplaced guilt over being the 'cause' of peoples' death

i realize now that marius' silence after the owner was angry at him was probably pointing more towards the man from a few months ago and not marius' mom but...why not both? kinda fucked up for a recurring theme in marius' life being "i am somehow, whether directly or indirectly, the reason why somebody has died" THATS HEAVY

also that whole "the aurora is the dead trying to speak with the living" and how whenever the aurora got louder, marius would feel worse.

man. marius, welcome to the guilt club. you can sit right next to luke or artem.

(vyn, JOIN THEM!!!)

[polonium-snap]

The Beauty & the Deku chp. 2

Summary: Izuku and Katsuki somehow get trapped in a book of fairy tales, to get out of it they decide to play their part in the stories. How far are they willing to go to fulfill the romantic plotlines? Will Katsuki be able to play the role of a fairy tale princess?

ao3

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When Katsuki comes to, he is washing some stairs.”Wha-? This again? You’ve got to be forking kidding me.” He stood up, inspecting his clothes, some raggedy top, and pants, which at least is not a dress,  and went to a nearby well, staring at his reflection on the water, scowling.

“Kacchan?” He heard Deku’s voice from behind, and the blonde turned to him.

“Deku!” Katsuki said. “As you can see, we are still trapped in this nightmare.” He frowns. “What do we do now?”

“Let’s continue trying to go along with the story, maybe if we do it enough times, we’ll get out of here.” Izuku suggested.

Katsuki growled. “Shut up! What do you know? This is probably your fault since you didn’t have to be at the house in the end.”

Deku frowned. “Oh yeah, Cinderella totally broke through a door like you did.”

The blonde scowled back, blustering and turning to look away from Izuku. “Whatever.”

Which was Kacchan-speak for ‘I’m sorry, you’re right', good thing Deku was an expert at reading his childhood friend. “We should continue trying to go along with the story, this time as much as we can with the original.”

“No way, nerd. I already gave that a try and we are still trapped in this hellhole.” Katsuki argued. “It makes more sense to try and make the story different, if it doesn’t let us move on we can find the reason more easily.”

“What if that just makes us be stuck here forever, Kacchan?” Izuku argued back. “Let’s do it like the story says one more time, then if we are still here we’ll try your thing.”

The blonde frowned but sighed. “Fine.”

Izuku let out the breath he was holding and stared into red eyes. “Thank you.”

Silence hung heavy for a second between them for several seconds. “I’m sorry…” Bakugou mutters, surprising Deku. “You know, for kissing you at the end…”

Izuku blushed furiously. “Oh! Uhm, i-i-it’s ok Kacchan, that actually made us move on, so…”

The implication of the previous statement weighs on them, and the silence only makes heat rise faster and more intensely into Deku’s face. If the kiss was what made them move on, did that mean they would have to again until they were out of there?

The most obvious answer was there, if they were in Snow White, like Izuku suspected, that meant they had to kiss to be able to continue with the story.

“Wh-What story are we in anyway?” Katsuki asked if only to fill the silence.

“O-oh, I think we are in Snow White.” Izuku reasoned.

“How are we meeting so early then, isn’t the prince supposed to kiss snow white at the end?” The blonde tried to remember.

“No, I think they met right at the start of the Disney movie.” Izuku explained.

“Crap I can’t remember.” The taller teen rubbed his hand on his face. “How am I going to go along with the story if I can't remember how it goes?”

The green-haired boy bit his lip, he couldn’t blame Kacchan, apart from this being a stressful situation, it has been a long time since either of them either saw the movies or read any books with fairy tales on them. “I think I know how it goes, just make sure to go near the forest and run away from the huntsman and look for a small house, it belongs to some dwarfs.” He explains. “Make sure they let you stay, cook and clean for them or something, the evil queen will look for you, to kill you, she will give you an apple, bite it, I’ll take care of the rest and then we’ll ride off to the sunset.”

“My prince.” Katsuki said sarcastically, and Izuku glared, but his cheeks felt hot. “I got it, I got it, I’m just tired of cleaning stuff, like I knew old men hate women in these stories and think their only use is to cook and clean, I get it, old news, but it’s annoying as heck, you know?”

“I get it Kacchan, I’m sorry, but I really think that we can get out if we follow the script as much as we can.”

“Yeah, except we can barely remember how it goes, you lame nerd, even just talking like this can change the story.” The fiery teen started to raise his tone. “We’re already doomed.”

Izuku cringed. “You’re right, but there must be plot points that make us move on, you know like in Cinderella, the background repeated until we did what it wanted, to move on we need to keep doing just that.” He tried to placate the other man. “This is the best plan we have right now, just go with it until we can think of something better.”

Katsuki stands staring at the other teen for a few seconds, glaring, but pondering what was said all the same. “Fine, but we better get out of this, or I’m going to explode.” He turned away and started walking toward the palace. “See you later, nerd, don’t you dare die.” He closed the doors, leaving Izuku staring.

The wardrobes the stories were putting the blonde in were killing him, he looked so handsome, even in dresses. Now the blonde wasn’t exactly wearing a dress, but elements of it were clearly borrowed, Kacchan was in rags but still looked amazing.

Izuku shook his head, this was not the time to be fawning over Kacchan, he turned around and left the grounds of the palace, unsure of what to do with himself. Jesus, fairy tale princes really were useless and had one shitty line, like Kacchan had said, though maybe like this, he could look for clues.

He looked down and sighed, even his clothes were boring.

۵⚜-The Beauty and the Deku-⚜۵

Katsuki changes his clothes because he is not staying in some ugly rags, besides he is 70% sure Snow White wasn’t dressed so badly, she needs to be marketable, little kids wouldn't buy merch of her if she looked ugly right?

He went near the forest, as Deku had said, and sat on a rock, at least the scenery was always interesting in these stories, as Katsuki had never gone out of Japan, he could almost pretend he was visiting Europe or some shit.

“I’m sorry, princess.” Said a voice, which startled the fuck out of the blonde.

“Jesus fu-!” Katsuki turned around to find Rikido Sato, from his class. “Sato?! You are the huntsman?”

The other man’s eyes widened. “You know my name?!” His eyes watered. “The queen has never called me by my name.”

Katsuki hadn’t either until just then, but he wasn’t about to say that to a man with a weapon while he remained quirkless. “Yes, of course I know your name!” He lied, he was lucky with Sato’s last name, he was between Sato and Sota. “I’m going to be the next ruler of this kingdom, and you my loyal subject.” He was talking out of his ass. “How could I not know your name?”

Sato dropped the knife. “I can’t do it!” He cried. “The queen is trying to kill you, your best option is to run as far as you can and hope she never finds you!”

Katsuki stood up from the ground and scrubbed the dirt off his clothes. “Right, thank you, I guess, for not killing me or whatever.” He jogged into the forest, enjoying it more than he normally would, maybe because it had been a while since he had been able to make one of his mornings runs.

At some point, his foot got tangled on some tree roots and he came crashing to the ground. “Argh!” He exclaimed. “Dumb tree, dumb story, dumb Deku!” He raged, and sat on the ground, finding the cabin could wait. As he lay on the ground feeling sorry for himself he felt small tweets from above, and slowly, animals from the forest came out and stared at him.

The blonde groaned. “One of you better not be Dunce face or Hair for brains.” He couldn’t take any more woodland animals as his friends, although thankfully it seemed none of them was anyone he knew. “What are you doing here then, If not to torture me?”

All the animals started to walk toward somewhere, and Katsuki, having nothing better to do went with them, only to find the small house Deku talked about. He opened the door, finding the insides absolutely filthy. And as much as Katsuki had complained he disliked cleaning, he disliked even more letting it stay filthy.

‘Fucking fine’ He thought because only in his mind he could use his favorite words. “You win, stupid Deku, I’ll clean this pigsty.” Katsuki picked up a broom and started sweeping the comical amounts of dust and dirt, the animals around him started to do the same, and for the first time, he didn’t mind the small woodland animals that seemed to follow him lately.

When he finally finished he realized how tired he was, it had been a few days since he last slept, so maybe now he could take a nap. Bakugou climbed the stairs, peering at the small beds with the dwarf's names, he pushed some of them together so he could fit in and dropped like a log on them, paying no mind to the few small animals that cuddled him, he was too tired for that shit.

He closed his eyes and lost consciousness.

۵⚜-The Beauty and the Deku-⚜۵

“What is that? Is it a ghost?” Said a fearful but familiar voice.

“Ha! There’s no such thing as a ghost.” An angrier voice said.

“Who cares, ghosts can’t touch you, let’s just sleep and be done with it.” Said another voice that sounded just like Aizawa.

With his sleep finally disrupted Katsuki decided to sit up and fuck up anyone who dared wake him. When he rose from the bed, multiple gasps were heard. “What is it now?” He said, the blanket still over his head, which he removed slowly.

When he finally could see, he found seven eerily familiar dwarfs looking at him and gasping once again.

“Prince!” One of them exclaimed. “What are you doing here, young prince?”

Holy shit, this dwarf was All Might. Katsuki gaped at the blonde dwarf, his face a picture of the man’s old glory.

The teen looked at the others, Aizawa, Present Mic, Koda, Kirishima, Kaminari...and Endeavour?!

“Let me guess, you,” Bakugou pointed at Aizawa. “Are sleepy, you,” Present Mic, who let out a very loud sneeze. “Are Sneezy, you,” Koda blushed. “Bashful.” Then Kirishima. “You are Happy, I guess.” Kaminari. “Dunce face, you are obviously Dopy.” Bakugou laughed. “This must be Todoroki’s old man, Endeavour.” The red-haired dwarf fumed. “That leaves you All Might, I guess you are Doc.”

All Might smiled. “Yes, young prince.” He eyed Katsuki as if searching for answers. “What brings you here?”

“Yeah, that, the queen is trying to kill me or something.” The younger man dismissed carelessly.

“The queen is trying to kill you?!” Several of the small men exclaimed.

“Yes, so let me hide here, I’ll cook and clean, or something.” Katsuki forced himself to say.

“Like we would let a stranger stay here in our h-” Endeavour started to say.

“Of course you can stay, my boy!” All Might said. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah!” Kirishima, Kaminari, and Present Mic said, Koda blushed, and Aizawa grunted his approval from where he slept.

Endeavour growled.

The next day, after making the seven nuisances breakfast and them lining up at the door to go to the mine, Kirishima took of his stupid hat and watched Katsuki expectantly.

“What do you want.” The blonde said, but he had started to piece what hair for brains was silently asking, the redhead wanted a kiss on his forehead, Bakugou fumed, missing the cracking sound of his quirk. The thing was Snow White obviously did so in the movie, and if he wanted to be truthful with what he promised Deku, he had to kiss the foreheads of these dumbasses and thank god they wouldn’t remember, or at least he hoped so.

He reluctantly kissed Kirishima’s forehead, cringing when the dwarf continued in his way. It didn’t take long for the rest of the short men to follow suit.

Kaminari laughed and thanked him with a teasing smile. Katsuki struggled not to punch with his bare hands. Koda, bless him, just blushed and continued on his way, Aizawa grunted, Present Mic whooped in happiness, and All Might thanked him.

Lastly, there was Endeavour, who Katsuki categorically and morally opposed kissing, as much as he hated the half-and-half bastard his old man was trash and he wasn’t about to ignore that. But he had made a promise to stupid Deku who was probably living it large somewhere as a prince.

Katsuki swallowed his pride if only because he was a man of his word.

He slowly bent to press his lips on Endeavour's dwarfed forehead, closing his eyes to avoid extra trauma, and gave him a lightning-quick kiss.

“It’s not like I wanted you to, brat!” What the fuck? Was Endeavour a tsundere?

Bakugou would never be able to look at the number one hero ever again.

While Katsuki baked a pie in the old-fashioned oven he heard some commotion on the outside. Bristling Katsiki let go of the hot pie and peeked through the window, only to see Shigaraki dressed in black rags and carrying a basket of apples.

Holy fuck, Shigaraki was the queen?!

Katsuki couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing. “You?! Your crusty musty ass is the queen? HAHHAHA” He was nearly crying, Shigaraki looked worse than normal, and that was so hard to do in the blonde’s mind that he had to give the man kudos for surpassing himself.

“W-what? No, I’m no old queen, just an old man offering such beauty an apple.” Shigaraki stuttered, quickly jumping into convincing the teen into taking the blood-red apple in his ugly hands.

Katsuki wiped his tears of laughter. “I’m just, haha, sorry, It’s just been an annoying day.” He explained. “But alright, since you made me laugh so much I’ll take the apple, thank you for the few hours of peace, while that stupid Deku makes it here.” The blonde bit the apple, promptly falling asleep as he heard Shigaraki’s pathetic laugh.

۵⚜-The Beauty and the Deku-⚜۵

Izuku panted as he followed the forest’s animals toward the dwarf's house, where he knew Katsuki was waiting for him, the queen, whoever they were, was probably already chased off a cliff and Kacchan was placed in a crystal case.

He arrived at a clearing, watching as the dwarfs mourned Katsuki’s apparent death.

Wait. Was that Endeavour?! No. No, no time for that, literally everyone they knew was becoming a supporting character in these stories, it was entirely possible Endeavour was too.

...Was he supposed to be grumpy?

Izuku shook his head away from those thoughts and focused on Katsuki’s relaxed face as he slept and the dwarfs took away the glass casing on top of the snoozing blonde. Deku had always wondered why on earth the dwarfs just took off the case for some random prince to kiss the princess? What if it was just some creep? Though he had heard the age of the actual prince was 31, while Snow White was 14, which, what the hell.

Anyways he was getting sidetracked, maybe due to the nerves of having to kiss Kacchan, and the intense gazes the dwarfs were sending the green-eyes teen. He gulped, approaching the other man’s face, suddenly feeling very hot. It's not like they hadn’t kissed before, just two days ago Kacchan had kissed him, and there was always that one time they were 4 and wanted to know what kissing felt like.

However, both times it had been Katsuki who had initiated, not Izuku, Deku had never been the one to kiss someone, and the fact they were not conscious was really bothering him. It was morally incorrect to kiss someone who was unconscious, even if he somewhat knew Katsuki would be ok with it.

He felt dirty, like a 31-year-old prince kissing a 14-year-old girl, well maybe not that dirty.

But still, he did not feel great about this.

Finally, as his lips were millimeters away from Bakugou’s, Deku avoided the pink plump lips of his classmate and kissed the other’s cheek swiftly and reeled back. Katsuki’s eyes remained closed for dreadful long seconds, until red eyes fluttered open, sleepily batting long blonde eyelashes at Izuku.

“Took you long enough, nerd.” Katsuki complained as Deku offered him a hand and a taller teen rose from the adorned crystal bed.

“Sorry Kacchan.” Izuku said, relieved that the kiss on the cheek was enough to wake the other up. “Let’s go?”

Katsuki blinked. “Oh, yeah, you said we now ride into the sunset.”

“I-I mean, y-yeah, that’s how I remember it ended.” Izuku stuttered.

“Thank god.” Katsuki launches himself at Izuku's horse, waving at the dwarfs and animals as Izuku himself mounts it.

“Are you ready?” Izuku said, feeling like he forgot something.

“Yes.” The blonde rushed, a fake smile plastered on his face as he waved. “Let’s go you stupid piece of crap.”

“Right.” Izuku instructs the horse to start moving toward the horizon where a large range of beautiful reds and oranges paint the sky.

“Thank you for nothing!” Katsuki waves again, this time his smile is more genuine as he does a pg version of his usual cursing at the dwarfs and animals that probably don’t hear him due to the distance. “Hope you trip on your horrendous beards and die!”

The green-haired teen sweat drops as Bakugou finally settles down.

That is until he notices the horizon only seems to get further away. “No! Look, we aren’t moving on!”

Deku has to agree, as he notes his surroundings, while the background isn’t repeating, there seems to be no end to the valley even as seconds turn into several minutes. Well, if it isn’t the consequences of my actions, Izuku thought as he meditated the best way to confess why they may be unable to finish the story.

“Darn it!” Katsuki growled in frustration. “I swear I did everything you told me.” He tried to explain. “I even kissed Endeavour’s old geezer head.”

“I know, Kacchan.” Izuku reassured, gulping as he realized he needed to come clean. “It is my fault.” He confessed.

“What?”

“So you know ten minutes ago when I was supposed to kiss you and wake you up from the sleeping curse?”

“Yes…?” Katsuki nodded. “What’s your point?”

“I may or may not have kissed your cheek instead of kissing you in the lips like in the traditional story.” He said sheepishly. “...Sorry...?

Katsuki slowly turns to look at the dumbass he called childhood friend. “What did you just say?”

“...I’m...sorry?” Izuku’s voice got weaker.

“What on earth is your problem?!” Katsuki bellowed, his eyes glowing red. “You SAID that we needed to follow the story to get out, you made me PROMISE I would go along with it just this once.”

The other man cringed. “I know, I know.” He whined. “I’m sorry, it’s just when I had to kiss you, you were unconscious and it just felt wrong since you never explicitly agreed that I could kiss you.”

“It was implied that I wanted to kiss you!” Katsuki yelled and then blushed, Izuku did too. “I mean, it was implied I was ok with it, you bumbling buffoon!” He screeched.

“Buffoon...?” Izuku mumbled as he stared in surprise at red embarrassed eyes.

“Ughhh!” Katsuki said in frustration. “Being this mad without using my quirk is making me lame.” He explained to himself, he took the reins of the still moving horse and yanked it so it stopped. Then he threw his legs over the animal so Bakugou was fully facing Deku. “Let’s just kiss so maybe this can be over, you piece of garbage.”

Katsuki pulled Izuku roughly so their noses were touching. “Don’t think for a second I’m not going to kick your ass into the next century after we get back to UA.”

Before Izuku could respond, their lips smashed together, harder and deeper than necessary, all while he was vaguely aware the world started to crumble and fade into white once again.