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jonathancraneswife · 1 month ago

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˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐔𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍 /

Jonathan Crane

ֶָ˗જ⁀➴ I can hear sirens, sirens. he hit me and it felt like it could kiss, I can hear voilins, voilins. give me all of that ultraviolence

Pairing - jonathan crane x fem! reader

summary - your professor, Jonathan Crane catches you cheating on the test and decides to teach you a valuable lesson

warnings - degradation, spanking, semi-public act, age gap (reader is in 20s and he is in his late 30s), everything is consensual

Notes - you vote for it, you get it also this is really not a 'smut', I wanted to make this a bit meaningful so I decided to make two parts, consider this as a late Christmas present

Word count - 3.6k

Divider credits to the person who made them

Exams can be stressful, very stressful if one didn't study and right now you found yourself in the worst possible situation.

you sat in a vast examination hall, the exam hall was suffocatingly silent, rustle of paper and scratching were the only sounds produced in the entire room and to avoid any kind of academic misconduct everyone was seated in a far distance from one- another.

However you stared at the question paper words on it blurring in your mind whilst your mind raced to remember answers but unfortunately you couldn't remember the lengthy answers.

The exam in question was a psychology test paper that your deranged Professor Jonathan Crane held every month.The question papers were tough and nerve-cracking.

Sometimes you wonder if he set this hard papers to traumatize all the students or did he want to derive sadistic pleasure.

your eyebrows scrutinized as you look upon the answering section, you were doing well on the objectives sections you even did good on the case study section until the one where you had to attempt lengthy answers.

you barely remember the answer to any of this, you spent your last night curled up in the bed, watching your favourite crime period show while stressing about this upcoming psychology exam.

you chastised yourself for spending hours simping over the show's main character when you should have been reading the textbook instead.

Fuck this…

your gaze swept across the examination hall, searching desperately for any clues to the answers. Your baby blue eyes finally settled on the class topper seated ahead of you, a flicker of hope sparking in your chest.

Before making a move, you tilt your head slightly, stealing a quick glance at Professor Crane, who is engrossed in marking the attendance. Seizing the opportunity, you prepare to discreetly glimpse at her sheet to cheat the answer.

you move forward to get a better view of her answer sheet making your chair to stir on the marble flooring, you mentally curse yourself.

After a moment, you positioned yourself in such a way, you could cheat off her paper easily to be honest you only needed to copy one or two answers for the passing grade and well you just did that.

Everything was going smoothly by now. you had quickly matched up her speed of writing the answers, the first question was done and you moved to the next one, jolting the words down as fast as you could.

you sighed of relief when you saw the first-half of this particular answer was nearly done and the other half seemed big enough to cover your entire page ,thus, you cracked your knuckles and began copying again.

you were almost halfway done with the answer when you felt an agonizing presence behind you making you freeze in your place. sweat beads formed on your forehead and you could feel your heart beating faster.

The room fell silent as professor crane’s sharp voice cut through the air. "Care to explain what you're doing?" All eyes turned towards you, a guilty expression spreading across your face as Crane’s gaze bore into you.

you swallow hard, forcing down your fear as your eyes drop to the paper to avoid the razor-sharp intensity of Professor Crane's gaze.

This was the worst case scenario, getting caught for cheating, definitely not something you’d imagine but now you got yourself in great trouble because crane was not going to let you go.

His jaw clenches when you refuse to look at him, “look at me” he says, his tone was authoritative enough to make you look up, at him.

his piercing blue eyes darkened with malice as you looked at them with pure guilt. “you were just cheating off from her answer sheet, weren't you?” He points at the girl sitting ahead.

The girl gives you a skeptical look, her eyes sneaking at your answer sheet to see if you really copied of from her paper.

you immediately grip the paper in your hands, “N-no, professor that's a serious accusation and I haven't copied from anyone” despite the fear settling in your chest, you speak in a blunt tone.

your baby blue eyes darted a fiery gaze through his piercing iris’. Crane always had a problem with you, he would always insult your behavior or your grades and the classic, your provocative clothing sense.

He let out a brief sigh before leaning closer to you, his eyes were locked with yours. each second passed with anticipation, clearly the fear of getting caught was written all over your face.

without a word, he snatches the answer sheet from your grip, you gasp loudly at his quick action. “Please, Professor Crane” you plead out in a hope.

Ignoring your plea, he continues inspecting your answer, Crane’s expressions hardened when he compares your paper with the girl who sat ahead, his icy blue eyes darkening as he took in every word of your answers.

Crane's jaw tightened as he finished his comparison, his fingers curling around both papers as if restraining himself from tearing them apart. His cold, calculating gaze snapped back to you, and you flinched under the weight of his judgment.

“Impressive handwriting” his tone was laced with sarcasm, “Though it's remarkable how identical your answers are to Miss Carter's” his lips curved in a cruel smile and the accusation hit you like a punch in the gut.

Your throat felt dry as you stammered, "Professor, I swear I didn't cheat it’s a coincidence” you blurted out. “I studied the same material–”

“Spare me your excuses," he cut you off sharply, his voice a low snarl. "You’re pathetic enough to cheat, and yet you’re even worse at covering it up.”

You swallowed hard, trying to calm the panic rising in your chest. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air.

“How pathetic of you, I expected better” he continued his tone with mockery, “Actually no, I didn't. I know from the beginning of the semester that you don't have potential to study”.

Crane's humiliating words pressed down on you. your heart pounding painfully in your chest. “Believe me professor I-I didn't cheat” you tried to defend yourself, despite everything.

He raised his eyebrows, agonizing fury was displayed on his face as he tried to maintain his composure “There is no room left for excuses left now Miss..” He gritted through his teeths, “but if your willing to still defend yourself then I will just fail you right now maybe even report you to administrative board’’

Your heart raced, the reality of his words sinking in. The severity of the situation clawed at you, and you could feel your world start to crumble under the weight of your failure.

He didn't just see you as a student who had messed up, he saw you as an insolent girl who needed to be punished.

"Cheating, lying, it’s not just an academic violation it's a betrayal of trust. Do you even care about that?”

The shame flooded you again, threatening to drown you in its intensity. You couldn’t meet his eyes.

Crane closes his hands to his chest, his gaze never weaverd instead it grew more piercing, he leans down towards you so now you could feel his hot breath stinging on the bridge of your nose.

“Now we don't want everyone to waste their time in the exam because of your pathetic and irresponsible behaviour” he continued, his tone darkening. “Accept that you have cheated on this exam” .

You could feel the tension between you like a live wire, and despite every ounce of resistance inside you, the truth slipped past your lips. “I… I cheated.”

“Glad you accepted it” he mocked you again, your chest tightened with every passing second, “Do one thing now” his voice dropped to a whisper. “Head to my office and once this exam is over we will discuss your behavior and the consequences that come with it”.

your voice was barely a whisper, laced with guilt and apprehension. "Yes, Professor... I understand." you bit your lip, avoiding his gaze, dread settling in your stomach as you think about the result of your actions

An hour had passed and you were still sitting alone in his office, the silence pressing down on you like a weight. The walls seemed to close in with every tick of the clock, your fingers fidgeted restlessly, you had regretted every action, your every impulsive decision which led you trapped in this situation.

Exam was already finished and professor Crane had still not shown up, at this rate. your heart was beating faster while your legs trembled with fear ,what if he really fails you? What if he reports you to the administrative board? That would ruin your whole academic career

you wouldn't let that happen, you were ready to re-take exams or even complete thousands of assignments, hell you would even beg for forgiveness. If that’s what he wants-

suddenly the knob of the door creaks open making your legs press against eachother, the door opens wider revealing his shadow spilling across the threshold.

you didn't dare to lift your eyes, instead your gaze remained on the floor, the only sound produced in this room was the rhythmic click of his expensive shoes hitting on the marble flooring.

Professor crane leaned back in his leather chair, his piercing blue eyes fixed intently on you as you sat nervously across from him.

He tosses your answer sheet onto the cold marble table, Your eyes flicker toward the messy, half-written response, the ink smudged and incomplete reminding you of you failure.

“...It is clear you have no respect for any academic exams for the rules or for my authority” he continued, his tone growing harsher with each word passing. “Did you really think you could cheat your way to passing grade?”

your head hung low in shame, you had no response for his questions. He has caught you red-handed cheating in an exam what could you say to what could you even say to defend yourself.

“Answer me” Professor Crane growled, slamming his hand on the desk, “Do you think you could deceive me? your professor” he asks in a demanding tone, his voice contained pure fury.

you jumped at his outburst, “No- professor I didn't mean to..to disrespect you or the process..I-I am sorry” you stammer.

Crane's eyes narrowed as he noticed the desperation in your voice, a cruel smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he regarded you with a mix of amusement and contempt.

He stood up abruptly, his chair screeching loudly in the tense silence. In two long strides, he was standing before you, his tall frame looming over your trembling body.

"No, Miss … there will be no second chance for someone like you”. he growled, his voice dripping with disdain. "You've shown me that you can't be trusted to earn your grade through honest means.”

you shake your head in disbelief, your mind raced through numerous thoughts, one being that your academic career is over he will probably fail you and dismiss you from the institution.

His sadistic side dawned up at your miserable state, leaning down he whispers “As a professor it's my job to teach you a valuable lesson right? so you don't use your little tactics to cheat in my class”.

your eyebrows form a knot of confusion, “what do you mean?” you ask him, bluntly this time.

“...you have to face consequences of your behavior, what you did in the exam hall is not tolerable” he closes the distance between you, at this point you could smell his expensive cologne.

The thick air shifts in the room, eroticism of this encounter was practically tangible in the air and none of you tried to ignore it.

“Pardon?” you speak out.

Crane releases a deep breath, gripping the edge of your chair, he says. “I’ll give you two choices, one is I fail you right at this moment and report you to the board..” he lifts his finger to graze your bottom lip, “second choice is, you bend over the desk and take your punishment like a good student”.

Your eyes widen in shock and disbelief at his brazen, inappropriate suggestion. You recoil slightly as his finger grazes your lip, a shiver running down your spine at the intimate, threatening gesture.

"Professor Crane, I..." you stammer, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and confusion. "Surely there must be another way. Failing me and reporting me would ruin my academic career. Isn't there some other punishment you have in mind?

He lets out a dark chuckle, “No. There is no other choice, these are the only two options I have for you”.

you sink your fingers in his desk as you think about the worst possible outcomes of this situation, your mind tells you to deny this but afterall it's a matter of your academic career.

His hand moves to the back of your chair, tilting it slightly as he looms over you. “Make your choice,” he murmurs, his tone cold and menacing. “A failed class would be the least of your worries?” he remarks, his tone was laced with sarcasm.

your throat feels dry, your palms clammy as you weigh the implications of his words. You can feel the room spinning around you, the power dynamic shifting entirely in his favor. And as much as you want to deny it, the spark of something forbidden flickers in your chest.

Your voice wavers as you whisper, “the second choice” It’s barely audible, but Crane hears it. His smirk deepens, and the room seems to shrink around you. There’s no turning back now.

“Good decision” he says, his voice laced with satisfaction. “now, you're completely under my control and if you dare to speak a word about it to anybody else then I won't hesitate to suspend you” his voice dropping with every menacing word he said.

you nod hesitatedly complying his order, “yes, professor Crane..I would not let anybody know about this”. he just hummed in response and gestured you towards the desk

For a minute, you stand in the room with shock displayed over your face, your mind racing with the thoughts about him and about what was going to happen next.

"Bend over the desk, now or I'll make it more unpleasant than it needs to be” his voice was stern, shaking you out of your thoughts.

Professor crane grabs your wrist, his strong grip tightens around you as he abruptly yanks you forward. Before you can react, he forcefully pushes you down onto the expansive, polished surface of his desk. The cold wood shocked your skin, making you gasp sharply.

the cool wood pressing against your flushed skin and the room falls silent, only sound produced was your own ragged breathing and the distant ticking of Crane's watch.

“undo the button of your shorts” he says, his voice commanding enough to make trembling fingers reach the button, which feels a lead weight, “do you want me to do it for you?” he mocks you but his voice even radiating a warning to hurry up.

With a deep, shuddering breath, you undo the button of your jean shorts , the sound of the release echoing in the charged silence, before your fingers could reach your zipper. Professor Crane's hands find the waistband of your shorts with a sharp tug he pulls them downwards with such a force that makes you flinch.

the denim fabric rough against your sensitive skin as he roughly pulls them past your thighs and calves. leaving you exposed and vulnerable beneath him.

The sudden exposure sends a jolt of shock and shame through you. you feel the cool air of the room caressing your bare skin, a stark reminder of your defenseless state.

your heart pounds wildly in your chest as you realize the extent of your Professor’s control over you at this moment.

you feel the heat of his presence behind, his tall frame casting a shadow over your exposed back, “let's begin your punishment”

his large hand coming down hard upon your tender, exposed bottom. The sharp crack of skin on skin echoes through the room, followed by your stifled cry of pain.

you let out a humiliating moan as he slaps your arse for the first time, a sudden sensation jolted through your entire body.

“Count them for me, if you forget the number then we will restart again” you hear his demanding voice through the thick air of his office.

his hand makes contact with your bare bottom again, the sharp slap on your soft flesh echoing through the room, “o-one” you gasp out of the sudden pain.

“Why am I doing this?” He squeezes your ass with one hand while the other was wrapped around the roots of your hairs.

“Because-” you couldn't find the words to speak, you were drowned in the pain and the pleasure that derived through it. “Because, I disrespected you professor by cheating in one of the exams”

his palm comes down hard on your ass with a sharp slap, making you shiver under his touch, “two” you choke out, fresh tears grazing at your eyelids.

“That's right, you fucking disrespected me, you're getting the punishment that a whore like you deserves” He growls, showing no mercy as he slaps your flesh with adamant force.

“Three” you clench your teeth, biting back a cry of pain as you feel the stinging heat of his palm searing your skin. “Please Professor Crane…it hurts” you cry out.

your pleas fall on deaf ears as he continues, another harsh spank landed on your soft skin. you release a series of sensual voices as you feel your arousal coursing between your legs. “F-four” you counted out.

“Oh does it hurt?, good” he snarls, grabbing the flesh of your reddened ass in his touch. “this is what happens to sluts who don't follow rules”.

His hand continues your punishment, each slap a brand upon your flesh. The desk creaks under the force of his discipline.

you count out each strike without missing any numbers, concealing your cries out at the harsh impact of Crane's hands, every hit echoing through the air, a dark part of yours manifested intense pleasure.

Crane was ruthless, not giving any time to adjust before landing another sharp smack, soon enough the room was filled with your melodious moans and the harsh contact of eachother's skins.

Suddenly, he hooks his fingers under the crotch of your panties and yanks them down, exposing your dripping cunt to the cool air. "Fifteen" you cry out, your voice breaking as the final slap stings your raw flesh.

“such a needy little whore” he growls, his hands trace your shoulder, tightening his hold around them into a firm grip. with one swift motion he spuns you around, forcing you to face him.

Crane closes the distance between you, His hands moved with practical ease, slipping around your waist and setting firmly on your back.

He grabs your jaw roughly forcing you to meet his mocking gaze, “I believe you have learned a valuable lesson from our encounter”.

you nod reluctantly, “yes.. professor I-I won't make any such mistake or disappoint you ever again”

He raised his eyebrow gauging your hairs behind your ear, mockingly “I do hope so, remember a word about it to anyone and you'll find yourself outside the university”.

when he again receives an obedient nod from your response, he backs away. “Good then get dressed , you can leave then” he ventures, his departing words.

your heart sinks in utter misery. You had braced yourself for many possibilities from this encounter but this was nowhere near what you had envisioned-

“Do you want me to dress you?” he asks, his icy blue eyes piercing through yours as he notices you lingering around his office.

“No I will take my leave” you reply back, trying to be blunt as possible, bending down you look at your clothes to only find your jean shorts

where are your white lace panties? They were one of your favourites but then your mind came up to the conclusion that professor Crane would have probably ripped them off during your ‘punishment’

After slipping back into your clothes, you turned on your heel and started walking out of his office.

“And, Miss…” he calls your last name, pulling your attention back to him, you spin back around noticing his captivating features.

“I want you to retake the exam on this upcoming Friday under my supervision” his voice was again cold and distant.

“of course professor” your voice trails off in the thick air as you turn to leave his office with the hollow ache spreading in your chest.

Crane watches you leave and for the first time the cold blue eyes seem to soften at your leave, did he expect you to stay and beg him to fuck you?

He brushed the thought aside, slipping his hands into his pocket. As he pulled them out, his fingers revealed the delicate white lace panties he had purposely stolen and tucked with himself.

His fingers lightly trace the delicate hem of the lace, feeling the wetness that has soaked the fabric, Crane brings them closer. inhaling deeply, his senses were filled with the lingering scent of your arousal.

Deep down, he knew this wouldn't be their last encounter. He was certain, beyond a doubt, that you would return to him, begging him to fuck you.

#cillian murphy #cillian fanfic #jonathan crane smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian fic #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane x reader #cillian x y/n #smut #scarecrow #scarecrow x you #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow smut #dk jonathan carne x you #dk Jonathan Crane x reader #cillian x reader

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kislnd · 6 months ago

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silent treatment - george clarke~

synopsis: george leaves y/n wondering what their relationship is, a brief encounter between them gives him the chance to clarify.

notes: noticing i clearly love a cheeky fwb plot 😭 i promise i have other plots stored in the drafts (also the fact this was not the george fic i was talking about in my previous post loool expect that one eventually)

requests are also open!

warnings: slightly mature & angsty, mentions of alcohol

word count: ~2.9k

masterlist

y/n found herself mindlessly checking her notifications yet again. as expected, there was nothing new. stop it, pull yourself together, she mentally cursed herself - never in a million years did she think a man could have this effect on her. usually she was fairly good at moving on, independence had always been her thing, but this time it was definitely different and she didn't know why. quite frankly it was scary, although she did feel like this unexplored territory was equally exciting as it was terrifying. over the past week y/n had been unable to shake him from her mind, flashes of their time spent together plague her mind - the way his hands felt on her body, the look in his eyes before he kissed her, the way he tasted. memories like those couldn't simply go away, nor did she really want them to.

"you're just being pathetic now," she said aloud to herself, "and now you're talking to yourself like a crazy person." y/n knew she needed to get out and get her mind off him, which once again, she did think was a little pathetic - it's not like she was going through a break up or anything nearly as painful as she was making it out to be. she shook away her thoughts and pulled out her phone, this time ignoring all of her notifications, and any thoughts of george, and opened a group chat of her closest girlfriends.

is anyone down to come out for drinks tonight?

she hit send on the message and waited, realistically she knew her friends were always raring to come out so their replies wouldn't be anything she didn't already know. more often than not they were the ones to drag y/n out for some fresh air. sure enough after a few minutes most of them had replied with a series of excited agreements.

the evening came around quickly. luckily y/n had already raided her entire wardrobe earlier in the day in a bid to distract herself, so her outfit was ready along with the right shoes to match. she had even gone as far as scouring pinterest for a few makeup looks that would compliment the colours of her outfit.

living near the centre of london had both its pros and cons but right now, y/n was just thankful that her walk to the chosen bar was only very short. as she stood in front of the establishment nerves crept up inside her. what even was there to be nervous about? it was just another evening out with her friends, people she had known forever. moreover, she had been to this exact bar several times, hell she could probably even name the regulars at this point. "sorry, excuse me," a low voice came from behind her, causing her to jump to the side. "sorry," she mumbled, glancing at the man who appeared to be carrying far more cocktails than his hands could comfortably allow. the night was getting cooler now and she anticipated her friends were probably waiting for her inside and had been for some time, either that or they were watching the whole ordeal from the window and would laugh at her later. you'll feel better once you get inside, y/n told herself and with that, she turned and walked briskly to the entrance.

her friends were not hard to find, despite not even being drunk yet they managed to be some of the loudest people in the room. y/n smiled at the sounds of their chattering and squeezed through the hoards of people swarming the bar to reach their table and sat down with them. for the first time in a week, she finally felt at ease, like she could fully loosen up with no worries.

"can you get me another vodka coke please?" y/n's friend pleaded for the third time, drawing out the 'e'. "god you do whinge," y/n rolled her eyes playfully, "but i will, only if you promise to shut up." the group laughed, a little too hard - at that moment y/n could confirm she was the most sober there. however, it was out of self preservation. she knew in the morning everything would come flooding back to her and she didn't fancy wallowing in her own pity with a headache. the bar was quite empty, y/n thought, especially in comparison to how it had been earlier, but that was definitely because everyone else was too drunk to not be up dancing. she was honestly grateful there was a clear path towards a bartender who didn't appear to be serving anyone.

"hi, could i get a vodka coke please?" she asked the bartender, who she could now see was mopping up a puddle of what was probably various alcohols. "sure, just give me one sec." the bartender smiled and continued soaking the puddle up. "no problem," y/n shot him a warm smile and leant against the bar, watching intently. judging by the sheer volume of liquid she didn't anticipate 'one sec' would be anything remotely close to one second.

"excuse me mate," y/n was ripped from her thoughts by an uncomfortably familiar voice, one that she simultaneously craved hearing and never wanted to hear again. she snapped her head around to the opposite end of the bar, where she spotted him. george was stood, trying to get the attention of another bartender who was busy shelving some bottles. she wasn't sure if this was some kind of sick joke, the one person she was trying to get away from had somehow magically appeared in front of her. if there was a god, she was sure he was punishing her. naturally, her bartender was still busy with the puddle - a puddle that was barely even visible now. why he couldn't leave the droplets for a moment and serve her, y/n didn't understand. she couldn't wait to get away from the bar and he wouldn't be able to conjure the drink up in a split second. to be honest, she wasn't even sure she cared to return to her table with the drink.

y/n couldn't help but steal another glance at george. he was still just as attractive, if not more attractive than she remembered. the way his biceps flexed as he rested his arms on the edge of the bar, his perfect smile as he thanked the bartender for the drink... y/n knew she should tear her eyes away from him but she just couldn't do it. she was weak and not even sorry about it.

her eyes widened as she realised not only was george staring dead at her, he was also drawing closer to her. everything inside her was telling her to run away, run away from this man who didn't even have the decency to reply to her messages, run away from this man who gave her such mixed signals she didn't even know if he loved or hated her. yet her feet seemed unable to budge, the alarm bells ringing in her head were not enough to sway her heart.

"if your mouth opens any wider, you'll dislocate your jaw," george chuckles, placing his drink down at the bar. "that's hilarious," y/n says in the flattest, most sarcastic tone she could manage. "what?" george quirks an eyebrow at her in genuine confusion, standing up and moving closer to her. "i said-" y/n began but abruptly stopped as george placed his hands on her hips and guided her towards the door.

"what are you doing?" y/n swore her heart stopped, how could the same man that had been ghosting her be so comfortable with touching her like that? did he not feel any shame? in a matter of moments, a rush of cold air washed over y/n as george led her out of the threshold of the bar, and it wasn't unpleasant. "the music was too loud, i couldn't hear anything you were saying," he said, walking over to some seating and gesturing for her to join him. y/n followed him and took a seat opposite him but stayed silent, she wasn't sure she wanted to speak to him, nor did she even know what to say.

"what brings you to the bar?" george asks, trying to alleviate some of the awkwardness. he genuinely did want to talk to y/n but wasn't sure how or what to say to her, so settling on a generic question like that seemed to be his best bet. "avoiding you actually," y/n almost laughs at the situation, she was also very aware that inside the bar there would be a confused bartender likely with a vodka coke ready for absolutely no one to receive, "but it seems you just appear and disappear as you please." now it was george that stayed silent for a moment, "i deserved that."

"too right, now if you'll excuse me, i have a drink waiting for me inside," y/n stands up to leave, she was not in the mood for this conversation. if george could easily ignore her for days on end then her leaving one conversation for another day would be more than reasonable. "wait y/n-" george stands up quickly and grabs her arm, "can you please hear me out?" genuine hurt could be heard in his voice, for a second y/n thought about just jumping into his arms and telling him she forgave him. that thought was only fleeting though, she decided to retain her dignity and just listen to what he had to say instead. this is for me, not him, she affirmed in her mind before turning back towards him, "fine."

"this might sound really stupid," george starts, "but it's true and i can't believe i am even about to say it." y/n nods hesitantly, she wasn't sure how he could make himself seem any more stupid. "i guess i'm not used to feeling this way, like," he pauses, "properly in love." y/n was dumbfounded, she opened her mouth to speak but no words would dare come out. "i got scared and tried to hide. and in the process hurt you," george looks at her with sad eyes, pleading her to say something. "what you're saying is that you couldn't reply because you love me? like love love me?" y/n could no longer hide her shock, in fact she was beginning to question if this was even actually happening. "i guess so?" george scratches the back of his neck nervously, "look, i'm sorry. i didn't intend to ghost you, i just didn't want to scare you by coming off too strong." he moves closer and tucks a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, "you're the first person i have been fully serious about." silence hung over them, y/n really did think for a second that she was going to pass out.

"i don't know if you are believing me," george sighs, defeated. "please say something." y/n tried to find her words, too much had just happened and she needed a moment to process it. the truth is she did believe him, she knew deep down all along that he was a good guy. "prove it." y/n says with a grin, "prove that you're as serious as you say you are." george raises an eyebrow at her sudden change of tone, "are you sure you can handle it?" a cocky smile forming on his face. "absolutely," y/n giggles, "do your worst."

without wasting another moment, george presses his lips to hers harshly. the kiss was hungry and desperate, like he had waited entirely too long to taste her again and he needed it. his tongue slips into her mouth, savouring every inch of it. this kiss was different, before they had been lustful, open mouthed, sloppy kisses - the kind that happened in the heat of the moment - but this kiss was so slow and so sensual and y/n could feel george pouring so much love into it that she felt it would be impossible to break apart from him.

george pulls away first to catch his breath. "is that enough proof?" he smirks, looking at her with blown out pupils, slightly swollen lips and pink dusting his cheeks. "i'm not sure, i might need a second one to confirm," y/n smiles cheekily, george rolls his eyes but bends down to lightly peck her on the lips. "there is more where that came from by the way," he laughs, "this just isn't the ideal setting."

"hopefully we can do this again sometime," she wiggles her eyebrows at him and laughs, "but we should really get inside, it's freezing," y/n ushers him back towards the entrance, "and i was supposed be back at my table with my friend's drink probably like half an hour ago." george's eyes widened, "oh god. she'll think you died en route or something!" truthfully, y/n was hardly worried about that, she knew her friends could be dramatic when they were drunk but she strongly doubted they were about to file a missing persons report or anything of the sort. "i'll just act naturally don't worry." she grins, "i'm good at that."

"yeah sure, really natural of you to spend an excessive amount of time staring at me from across the bar and then freeze up the second i moved towards you." george returns the grin, "seriously, i could literally feel your eyes boring into my skull."

"so dramatic, i did not stare that hard!" y/n gave him a light slap on the arm, she was in fact completely aware that that was exactly what happened, but she definitely didn't realise she had been that obvious. "whatever you say sweetheart," george opens the door for her and they step inside. y/n glances at the bar, the bartender hadn't made her drink but she hadn't expected him to, after all she had disappeared for a while. "stay right here, i'm going to order the drink again and go back to my friends for a bit." george simply nodded and took a seat at the bar once more, y/n opted to ask the other bartender for the drink this time (the one george had been talking to) - she thought it might be too awkward to ask the original one again.

drink in hand, she made her way back to their table, much more easily than when she first arrived. most people had begun to go outside to cool off so it wasn't nearly as packed in the booths where they were situated. "there you go." y/n pushed the drink towards the girl who had asked for it. "did you get lost on the way?" her friend giggles, slightly slurring her words. i'm sure she had a steady flow of drinks coming her way even without the one i ordered, y/n sighs, how was she going to explain this? it would've been even harder to explain her absence had she spent extra time outside mulling over what excuse to tell them but the lack of forethought also left her in a sticky situation. "you don't need to answer!" another of her friends grins almost evilly, "we can tell exactly what happened." y/n could feel her cheeks heating up, "what do you mean?" she answered, admittedly in a shakier voice than she was hoping for. without another word, the girl thrust her phone up at y/n's face with the camera open. "see?" she folded her arms and sat back in satisfaction.

"oh." y/n found that was the only word she was capable of uttering in that moment. her kiss with george had managed to smear her lip gloss and some of her lipstick around her lips in such a drastic way that it was painfully obvious what they had been doing. "for god's sake!" y/n quickly returned the phone and started in the direction of the bar where george, she assumed, would still be waiting for her.

"you didn't think to tell me about this?!" she hissed, gesturing broadly to her lips. george could only laugh, it had been only dimly lit outside of the bar so he wouldn't have been able to tell and y/n had taken off so abruptly with the drink that he hadn't even had a chance to fit a word in. "at least everyone knows now." george shrugs and gently holding her face and pressing the pad of his thumb over her lips, gently wiping away excess lip gloss (not much could be done about the coloured streaks of lipstick, at least not without a makeup wipe). y/n rolls her eyes, it was impossible to stay mad at him. "so much for twenty four hour ultra long wear lipstick," she grumbles. "shhh, i can't clean it up if you keep talking," george chuckles, giving her lips one final wipe, "there. all done."

"thank you," she smiles brightly, "i won't be buying this lipstick again that's for sure."

"you know," george pauses, "it would really be a shame if someone were to mess it up again,"

"save that for later!" y/n grins, giving him a kiss on the cheek instead before turning to go back to her friends. she could hear george protesting as she walked away, smiling to herself. this time she knew she would absolutely be hearing from him later.

#george clarke #george clarkey #uk youtubers #george clarke imagine #george clarkey imagines #george clarke x reader #george clarkey x reader #george clarke fics #george clarke fluff

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tragedybunny · 1 year ago

Text

Sated - Astarion x F!Reader

Astarion has gone too long without blood and you're determined to make sure he's fed.

Astarion tries, but not everyday is a good day, and some days he’s still snappish and lashes out. The rest of your group has learned not to take it personally, in fact now that Karlach can touch people, she’s developed a nice trick of just suddenly hugging him when he’s a pain. Usually either indignant silence or grumbling compliance follows. “Behave yourself Fangs, or I’ll do it again,” the Tiefling grins at him during whatever fussing he spouts after. He’s grown fond of her, you can tell, even if he can’t yet. In a way he’s fond of them all, but Karlach’s open, kind nature has given them a bit of a sibling-like bond. Watching them interact always brings a smile to you, he needs more of that in his life, people who care for him genuinely.

Today was not the best, but you shrug it off as concern overrides all else. He’s a little paler than usual and a little slower. There wasn't much out there among the shadow curse for him to feed off. Before you never had to question how much blood he needed to survive or where it would come from. But as you leave the formerly cursed land behind, you can tell he’s struggling. And yet, he hasn’t asked you about it. The one he’s supposed to trust more than anyone else. You’ve fed him plenty of times before, you would think he’d have come to you by now. Mentally, you scold yourself as you feel creeping insecurity. There has to be a reason for it, and now isn’t the time for selfish suspicion.

That night, as everyone settles themselves around a fire, contemplating what the road to Baldur's Gate holds, you find him seated at the edge of the flickering light, as far away as he can get without being in the shadows. Could he be worried he might find himself tempted if he’s too close to everyone? This can’t continue, you tell yourself, not only for the sake of his suffering, but you can’t be sure he wouldn’t be tempted either.

Grabbing a blanket from your shared tent, you take a seat beside him, wrapping it around both of you. “You feeling alright Starry Sky?” Gently, you wrap an arm around him, and feel the icy chill of his skin beneath his shirt. Not that his skin is ever all that warm, but this another level.

“Just tired,” he smiles weakly at you.

“And freezing,” your other hand reaches up to stroke his cheek lightly.

Eyes closed, he leans into your touch. “You know, I don’t even really feel it. I’m not sure if I need to be warm at all.”

“Hmm, even if you can’t feel it, you know why you’re freezing.” Leaning over you whisper to him, some things aren’t meant to include the others. “You’re hungry.”

“Perhaps a little, but I’m fine. I don't need you to start fussing over me constantly. There's an owlbear cub if you feel overtly maternal." The sharp words don't change the dark circles under his eyes, or how gaunt his cheeks look.

"You're ridiculously obstinate, you know that right," a gentle kiss on his temple follows your words, so he knows you're not actually being cross with him. You’ve come to realize he can’t stand it when he thinks you’re mad at him. In the past, anger meant reprisal, punishment, and in the context of the two of you, punishment could only mean withdrawing your affection. At least that’s where his thoughts lead.

"It is one of my better qualities," he leans over, head resting against your chest.

Shifting, you position yourself so he's seated between your legs, easier to let him rest his weight on you. "I don't know why you don't just ask me. My blood not good enough for your refined palate anymore?" Laughing, you try to mask the actual hurt that's creeping in. The truth is letting him feed from you has always felt like an important part of your relationship, the time when you’re closest to him.

It's been a long journey and a few of your group are already wandering to bed, although you think you hear Shadowheart muttering about saving it for the tent, whatever she said, Gale laughs it off. “Not at all,” he’s uncharacteristically serious, “I just…” he sighs, for once at a loss for words, “it seemed like a lot to ask from you, after everything else.”

“Everything else?” Lips leave light kisses on the top of his head as you brush your fingers through his hair.

“You know, lying to you, manipulating you, wanting you to still love me after all that. If I asked to feed from you, it would seem like I was trying to use you again.” Catching one of your hands, he kisses it and doesn’t let go.

For a moment you don’t know how to respond, you’re still not entirely used to seeing the softer, sincere side of him. “I see why you would think that, but I don’t want you to suffer. Let me take care of you, any way I can. That’s what I’m here for. Well, that and teaching you to be less of a stubborn arse it would seem.”

“Stop, you’re being entirely too sweet to me. It’s going to ruin my reputation around camp.” You let him have his moment of deflection and wait until he makes a frustrated noise. “But I can’t say I don’t want to.”

“Take what you need love,” you reach up to undo your collar and pull the blanket more securely around the two of you for privacy. A part of you considers moving to the tent, but you’re worried he’d use the opportunity to try to put it off more.

With a soft sigh, his lips press to your neck in a delicate kiss, teeth piercing your skin moments later. Pain and ecstasy course through you as you hold back a sigh. The two of you become one in that instant, bound through blood to the singular beating heart you now share, intimacy unparalleled. While he drinks, you fight to stay lucid enough to whisper to him of love and comfort, reassuring him that needing this from you is no sin. You feel your own warmth traveling into his skin, and you watch it take on a blush of life.

Before your world turns hazy, he pulls away, licking you clean, and returning his head to your chest, content to be held tightly. "I didn't take too much, did I?"

"No, you were perfectly careful dearest." The words bring a small smile to his lips, praise so new an experience for him, he hardly knows how to handle it. But you know he craves it, especially from you, and it makes you want to lavish it on him.

The others have vanished, a small part of you worries they noticed and were uncomfortable, but you hope they would understand as your friends. You two should join them soon, Baldur's Gate awaits, with a journey there still ahead. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“A few more minutes love,” somehow he manages to snuggle tighter against you, “I did miss this.”

“Me too, don’t wait so long next time. I’m always here for you.”

“There you go, being too nice to me again, silly girl.” Sitting up a bit he kisses you, fiercely, lips crashing together bruisingly, hands reaching to tangle in your hair, like a first and a last kiss all bound up in one and it leaves you gasping when he’s done. It’s as though he’s trying to express everything he feels in that one kiss. “I might get used to it if you’re not careful.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x f!reader #my fanfiction #my writing

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dykecubes · 22 days ago

Note

I was a hardcore dream fan up until the point the initial grooming accusations (the stuff in from the “The Truth” video).

I think a lot of people call Dream fans a cult kind of like,,,,, either insultingly or hyperbolically. Like they aren’t really thinking that the group is cult-like, and are saying it just because of the extreme devotion to dream through controversies. As a former fan tho, my experience genuinely does feel somewhat cult-like to me (I don’t want to downplay real cults, but I don’t have another word).

Cults often target people who are lonely and vulnerable and offer them community in return for not questioning things. I joined the dream fan community a couple months into the pandemic. I was very lonely. I had depression that I had just started getting treatment for (literally one session and I was still unmedicated) at my college, before getting ripped away from my hope things were going to get better. I wasn’t out to my parents, so living at home again meant getting constantly misgendered.

in short, I wasn’t feeling great. And Dream- you have to understand how much of his fan community (at least on tumblr) is into the idea that he loves his fans, and he loves his friends. And getting to watch those friendships felt like living vicariously. And having someone tell me they loved me, even if I knew I was just another fan helped. For a long time during the pandemic, the dream team were the literal highlight of my day. They were often the reason I got out of bed. I knew even then that that wasn’t healthy, but I was having trouble figuring out how else to get through things.

even after going back to college after the first vaccine had come out, Dream (watching and re-watching videos, interacting with the community) remained a pillar of my mental health. Less so, but if I needed to calm down, I watched a dream video. A lot of my free time was spent in fan spaces. I really, really put him on a pedestal.

I cannot describe to you how anxious I was when the grooming allegations came out. I genuinely started feeling nauseous all the time. I was checking my phone obsessively. I’m not going back to look at these, but I remember that dream had some initial responses (long Reddit post and whatnot). There wasn’t enough there to really make anything clear/disproven and the girls looked like they had a lot of evidence, so I was still anxious and sick and feeling like I was waiting in limbo to find out what was really going on. Trying to prep myself to accept that things might not be what I hoped, as much as I didn’t want to believe it.

when I logged on, the vibe in my tumblr circle was… very different. A lot of people (except for a few that ended up leaving with me) were acting like everything was disproven and it was all good and we could go back to normal times, with a few posts about how disgusting it was that someone would fake something like that. My first response was, honestly, confusion. I thought that I must have been being stupid and missed something or not understood something. So I politely sent an ask to a big name in the community that I trusted to be smart and explain things well, saying that I wasn’t sure we had enough evidence to really dismiss the accusations and asking why she thought that everything was disproven. She gave me exactly the same information that I already knew, while calling me stupid and saying that if I didn’t believe dream that I should just get the fuck out.

I felt suddenly, unpleasantly woken up. I wasn’t being stupid or missing evidence that would fully exonerate dream (maybe there was evidence like that in “the truth”. I never watched it, couldn’t). They just wanted to believe Dream wasn’t guilty, so they did, and twisted things until that made sense. Because they wanted to feel excited and loved again, instead of the crushing anxiety and dread I was in. And I thought about my own reactions, and I knew that I had been so fucking anxious over someone I didn’t even know because secretly I also wanted Dream to be exonerated. I wanted to bury my head in the sand and pretend that it simply wasn’t true because of what being a dream fan gave to me: bits of happiness and community.

And I was really scared of myself. Because I wanted to not believe those girls, not because I thought I had evidence otherwise, but because it would make me feel better. And I knew that was really, really shitty, and that that was something I had to stop in its tracks. And that I NEEDED to not be as obsessive or put anyone on a pedestal as much again. Because I would do the same thing- wanting to make excuses to keep my own happiness. And that’s not ok.

I stopped following almost everyone overnight and stopped watching anything Dream-related cold turkey (<—I realize this probably sounds stupid but I genuinely watched so much dream stuff it was an actual change in my life). I’m still in the mcyt space, mostly hermitcraft, but I make sure that I never put anyone on a pedestal like that again, and I have a way healthier internet to real life ratio.

Coming out of that space genuinely felt like something I was grieving. The intensity of my emotions, both in it and coming out, wasn’t healthy, and I’m really glad I left. if I wasn’t faced with a situation where someone was potentially materially being hurt, I don’t know if it could have happened, I was so embroiled. For obvious reasons tho, that crossed a line and luckily on the other side I had people that were kind to me when I was still kinda reeling.

anyway, tldr, my hot take with this situation is that more dream fans wake up and realize he’s a piece of shit, and get grace and kindness while doing so. Sorry for how long this is- hopefully I get my point across that I genuinely believe that at least some dream fan spaces are intensely unhealthy, more than some people outside of them might consciously think

anon if I’m being honest with you this whole situation has me thinking a lot about this post from a while ago and at the moment, yes, it is frustrating seeing his fans deny the evidence right in front of them but I really can’t help but hold a level of sympathy for them

I was never really a hardcore dream stan but I was very adjacent to that community back when I still had Twitter and TikTok and spent a lot of time defending dream and his community whenever criticisms of him came up, I very much disliked the idea of calling dream stans a cult because I spent probably about 5 years or so of my life in stan communities on Twitter and I’m very much of the opinion that they get a bad rap, but it was around the time of his grooming allegations that I stopped defending him as well and came to understand what people meant when they called his community a cult

while I still don’t fully like using that word to describe his community because I know people who are survivors of cults and don’t want to downplay their severity, I will also say it’s alarming how easy it is to apply the BITE method to dream’s fanbase, especially information and thought control

that being said, even if it technically is not a cult it’s still a very intense community and it’s still difficult to get out of (speaking specifically on the way former dream stans are often bullied for leaving) and obviously the connection you’d have to such an intense community like that is going to be a serious emotional one so I understand why a lot of them might still be holding on

so I agree, I hope if fans of dream choose to leave his community they’re treated with grace and kindness

thank you for sharing, anon, I hope you’re doing well <3

#also I wanted to say but I didn’t have anywhere to fit it in with the rest of this post but I don’t think the cold turkey comment sounds #stupid I think it makes sense #you dedicated a lot of your time to his content and it became a major part of your life it makes sense that it would be a major change to #stop watching his content #hope I worded this well #mailbox #dream situation #long post

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dreamingumbrellas · 5 months ago

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why tua s1 is a masterpiece and 2-4 give me a migraine

i gotta use my english degree for something so lets talk about it

i’d like to note beforehand, that i’ve only seen about half of season 4. but given everything i’ve heard about it, i’ve decided to avoid watching it for my own mental wellbeing. i really haven’t enjoyed the last three seasons much, mostly i’ve been dredging through because of how much i love season 1. it feels painfully like seasons 1 and seasons 2-4 are for completely different fucking shows–particularly in tone.

i think tua season 1 attracted attention to its unique themes that are lost in the rest of the series. the primary themes are of trauma and dysfunctional family dynamics. it’s a story about seven severely abused siblings learning to cope with their trauma and reconnect as adults. season 1’s tone is somber. it shows us glimpses of the characters’ childhoods, and how it affects them in their adult lives. the characters in season 1 were, most importantly, flawed! they were assholes, because trauma turns people into assholes sometimes!

you can directly trace back the siblings’ character flaws to the shit reggie put them through. Luther was the golden boy, which put too much responsibility on his shoulders and isolated him from his siblings. As a result, Luther is ultra-loyal to his dead father, in obvious denial of the abuse he endured because he was never able to form an identity for himself outside of reggie and the academy! he is the only one that never moved on. and then reggie turned luther into (for lack of a better term) a giant monkey without his consent, causing him to hate himself and even further alienate himself from the rest of the world.

diego never left the ‘number 2’ headspace. he fights with luther even into adulthood. despite how much he claims to hate his father, he became a vigilante likely as an effort to finally be good enough for his dad. and lets not forget (unlike the writers) about his stutter–something that formed in childhood and came back as an adult when he was triggered with memories of his childhood. he’s inherently defensive because reginald pit the siblings against one another constantly.

allison is a narcissist–though, when we meet her in season 1, she’s more of a narcissist in recovery. she’s recognized how her childhood affected her and wants to become a better person to make up for the mistakes of her past. what mistakes again? well, she used her powers on her daughter because 1. she was never told no. reggie encouraged the usage of her powers, and the household where she grew up was violent, manipulative, and competitive. she had no sense of real normalcy, so she never learned how to build a happy, healthy family for her daughter. to cope with her trauma, she clung to her fame–this is shown both in adulthood and childhood flashbacks–leading her to become a movie star, and not accept her own faults.

klaus, well, klaus is the most obvious example of trauma. mostly due to reggie forcing his powers on him when he was a young childhood. locking him in a mausoleum for hours on end. he became a drug addict as a result. living on the streets, in and out of rehab, and stealing for money. we see him struggle constantly throughout season 1–through his interactions with ghosts (when its very possible he wouldn’t have developed such a fear of them if it weren’t for reggie), with flashbacks to his childhood and (later) to the vietnam war. his inability to take things seriously and his self-destructive behavior are both coping mechanisms. his siblings don’t trust him because of his lying and kleptomaniac tendencies.

five is a character whose development is utterly abandoned after season 1. he was only thirteen years old when he accidentally travelled in time to the apocalypse, where he remained for 45 years. i remind you of this because the writers won’t. he survived those years for his family! because he felt immeasurable guilt for leaving them! he was so lonely for these years that he developed a romantic attachment to a mannequin (something only referenced for a joke in later seasons). he was in an extremely vulnerable position when he was recruited by the handler (a character who was very creepy in her own right) and he was forced to use his childhood ‘superhero’ skillset to essentially become an assassin, a job he loathed himself for. all so he could have a chance to save his family. five is cocky, sarcastic, and yes, wants to save the world, but we forget that he wanted to save his family first. he was willing to sacrifice the world if it meant saving his siblings. and even once he returns to the present, he experiences ptsd flashbacks to his time in the apocalypse. five is severely traumatized and stuck between childhood and adulthood, has lived for far too long and has done too many terrible things to be a child, but is stuck in a childs body and never got the chance to emotionally mature past the age of 13. this in no way resembles the five we get in later seasons.

in season 1, ben is a tragedy. he is the character that haunts the narrative (literally). his death was the reason the family split up. he experienced an incredibly traumatic childhood, forced to slaughter people against his will. all so that he could die tragically young (we’ll get into his cause of death later). he’s stuck following klaus around for years, unable to interact with anyone else. he watched his brother deteriorate in front of him with no way to help. he’s angry about his death and sometimes takes out his frustrations on klaus. but at the same time, he was ‘the kindest’ of all the siblings. he cares deeply about his family, but can’t do anything about it.

i think it’s easy to forget that the initial focus of the show was viktor. viktor, who was told how unremarkable he was again and again. who was isolated not just from the world but from his own family as well. who was drugged up from an incredibly young age and forced to ignore his emotions. yes, the umbrella academy was abusive. but being isolated from his siblings was just another form of abuse. he grew up to resent his family on a lot of levels, writing his book as a method to vent his frustrations but only ended up in driving his siblings further away. viktor went through a lot of shit in season 1, and resulted in him ending the world. but did his family kill him? no. because that was the point of the entire show. that despite their trauma and how much they might resent one another, the siblings still loved each other more than the rest of the world put together.

everything ive outlined are the elements that make up season 1, and are almost entirely forgotten about later. but by losing the integrity of the characters, they lost the narrative. the point of the umbrella academy was never saving the world–it was about a broken family reconciling with one another despite everything. these points of trauma are taken seriously. it was the complexity of these characters, at least in my opinion, that attracted attention towards them. and sure, we didn’t love every character all the time. remember how much luther was hated in season 1? but it’s because he was realistic. these characters, and the shit they went through, weren’t a joke. and the season ended off in a way that forshadowed these elements being explored more in depth. remember how it ended?

with the seven siblings holding hands as the world exploded around them. and for only a few seconds, we saw them transform back into their child selves.

now, this plot point (whatever it might have been) was instantly cancelled and forgotten about in season 2. but it really makes you think about the season we could have gotten: the characters being forced back into their childhood, having to confront the root of their trauma and essentially, all their problems. they could look back at what happened to them with a mature perspective and worked through it, realizing that they were not each other’s enemies. they could have made up for lost time, helped eachother heal, and ultimately prevent the apocalpyse by being family. you know, something that would have actually wrapped up the narrative nicely.

so, what happened?

the shows original themes of trauma, and repentance, and family were abandoned in favor of humor and spectacle. it seems like the creators misinterpreted what made the first season so successful. sure, the first season had a lot of funny moments and great fight scenes. but it was the emotional depth and complexity that made the show what it was. but worse than that, it continued to spit in the faces of the characters trauma, downplaying it in almost every way possible.

klaus’ relapses were played for comedy. his fear of ghosts was drastically downplayed with the use of cartoonish ghost-buster ass looking ghosts. five’s ptsd was never acknowledged again; his coping mechanism, dolores, became a joke. luther lost all character complexity entirely, instead becoming a himbo (who we love, but, still). viktor rarely brought up the feelings from his childhood, and nobody acknowledged his tell-all book again.

one of the things that infuriated me the most was the incorporation of reginald in later seasons. lets remind ourselves of some things: he purchased seven children, treated them like objects without names, trained them tirelessly and deprived them of a childhood, traumatized them by turning them into murderers, pitted them against one another, and literally tortured them. and that’s only the things we see him do on screen. you cannot convince me for a second that any of the siblings would ever be able to be the same room as that man without having serious flashbacks. I don’t believe for one second that they’d work with him, trust him, or empathize with him in any capacity (except maybe luther) except they do, consistently. even five, who is easily the smartest member of the academy, and extremely protective of his siblings.

and- LEST WE FUCKING DISREGARD- reginald MURDERED ben.

the moment that happened on screen felt like the last shovel of dirt on tua 1’s grave. supposedly all the siblings REMEMBERED this incident in seasons 1-3. and yet they went to their fathers funeral, spoke to him (relatively) civilly, and teamed up with him after seeing for themselves their father shoot their brother in the back of the head for seemingly no reason. not only did they apparently not hold this against their father, but they never mentioned it once in three seasons.

and yes, i know, there is a very simple reason for this. it was obviously made up at the last moment for plot convenience. but the implications for this being retconned in are damning for the characters. by writing this in, the writers decided that the siblings commitment to one another is meaningless. that the foundations upon which this show was created, are fucking meaningless. they threw away not only the individual complexity of each character, but also their relationship as a family.

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queenshelby · 9 months ago

Text

Sweet Possession (Part 7)

Pairing: Very Dark! Thomas Shelby (32) x Innocent! Reader (19)

Warning: Age Gap, Smut

When you returned to Arrow House unwillingly, the mansion that was once a symbol of love and safety never felt so cold and lonely. Thomas' eyes, cold as ever, drilled into yours as he greeted you with a deep look without uttering a word. He didn't have to. His message was loud and clear: he always had the upper hand.

You tried to suppress the shiver running down your spine as you glimpsed at the stern expression on his face, realizing that your hope for escape had been nothing more than a fleeting dream. The weight of your current situation bore down on you heavily, forcing reality to settle in.

"Come inside and have something to eat. You must be hungry, Love," he then said , making an attempt to act on his usually endearing nature. Even after all that had transpired, his voice carried a warmness that somehow made you forget about the contents in the lockbox, if only for a moment.

But you knew better. You knew that beneath the facade of charm and wit lay a man whose intentions were far from romantic or kind.

"I am not hungry ," you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Thomas frowned at your response as he lead you inside and helped you to take off your coat before handing it to one of the maids, which is also when you noticed several more men inside the house : some familiar, others not so much.

"Suit yourself ," Thomas said as he escorted you to the dining room, leaving your words to hang in the air. His sudden shift in demeanor was enough to make you feel uneasy and confused. You made a mental note to keep your guard up and be careful about what you shared with him.

"I am sorry," you stammered nervously as he pulled out a chair for you at the dining table while the men who were in the house earlier scurried away as your husband and you sat down to eat, giving you a feeling of being constantly watched.

"For what, exactly, are you sorry for, Love?" Thomas asked as he sat down opposite you, the distance between you and him feeling wider than ever before. You swallowed hard, desperately trying to find the right words to explain.

"For leaving, of course," you said after a moment of silence, your voice shaky. "I shouldn't have done it without telling you first."

Thomas regarded you for a long moment, his face unreadable.

"It's in the past now Y/N and I trust that you won't leave like this again, eh?" Thomas said, his voice low and gravelly as he leaned forward, his intense blue eyes locked onto yours.

You couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine at the menacing tone in his voice. But you knew better than to argue with him, especially after what had been revealed to you in the past two days. Thomas Shelby was not a man to be trifled with and you knew that you would have to tread lightly if you wanted to stay on his good side.

"Of course not, Thomas. I promise," you murmured quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Good ," Thomas replied, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I'm glad we understand each other."

But despite his seemingly kind words, you couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had settled in your chest. You knew that Thomas was capable of anything, and you couldn't help but wonder if this whole situation was just another one of his twisted games.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur as you forced yourself to eat and make small talk with Thomas. Your mind was racing, trying to make sense of everything that had happened.

You felt like you were living in a nightmare, unable to wake up and escape the twisted reality that had become your life.

Thomas Shelby, the man you loved and trusted, had turned out to be someone entirely different from who you thought he was. He was manipulative, controlling, and dangerous.

"I am really exhausted Tommy, I might just head to bed," you muttered softly after a few hours of having forced yourself to keep him company. As you looked up at Thomas, your voice was trembling slightly, and you tried to hide the fear that was steadily building up inside of you.

Thomas's eyes softened as he looked back at you and for a moment, he seemed almost human.

"Alright Love. I will join you shortly, eh," he said, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You forced a similarly weak smile and nodded as you stood up from your chair, excusing yourself and making your way up the grand staircase to the sleeping quarters.

Once inside your bedroom, you hastily closed the door behind you, feeling a small sense of relief wash over you. You took a deep breath, leaning against the heavy wooden door, trying to calm your beating heart.

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, but you held them back, not wanting to give in to the fear and sadness that had taken over your heart.

With a shiver, you walked to the large mirror in your room, studying your reflection. Your long hair was disheveled from the long train ride and your big eyes looked tired and anxious.

You dreaded the moment at which your husband would join you tonight, just like every other night, knowing that his needs had to be satisfied.

Saying no to him now after what you did was not something you could afford , even though the thought of him touching you made your skin crawl. You couldn't help but feel a sense of disgust towards yourself, for allowing things to go this far.

You had always enjoyed the intimacy between you, feeling attracted to him, but now it had become something else entirely. It was as if you were living with a stranger, someone who held all the power and control over you and you hated the thought of him seeking to be intimate with you.

Eventually, after contemplating your options for a while on how to get out of sleeping with your husband, you went to bed, realizing that you had none. You lay there, stiff as a board, your mind racing with thoughts of escape and freedom that seemed like impossibilities now.

You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable and, soon enough, the door opened with a creak. Thomas stepped inside quietly as you pretended to be asleep, wondering if your charade would be successful. You heard his footsteps as he moved closer and closer to the bed before stopping short next to you, a sigh escaping his lips.

You could feel him strip down to his clothes, the bed shifting slightly under his weight as he climbed in beside you without making any attempt to initiate anything.

Minutes passed and still, you felt nothing but cold sheets and an even colder presence beside you but, just as you thought that you could actually go to sleep, your breath hitched as a hand slid across your waist, tracing the curve of your hip before settling on your thigh.

Tommy moved closer towards you and his touch sent a shiver down your spine, causing you to freeze.

As if sensing your distress, he whispered in your ear, "I know you are awake, Love . Let's not play games, eh?" he told, his hand sneaking up to slide under your nightgown, gently caressing your smooth skin. You could feel him harden against your backside, his desire for you palpable. As much as the thought of being close to him made you uncomfortable now, you knew better than to protest.

Your mind raced, searching for a way to escape this situation, but all your thoughts were pushed aside as his hand moved beneath your panties.

"Relax, Love. You're so tense," he murmured in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. You could feel his body press up against yours, his erection now obvious. "I won't hurt you, eh? I would never fucking hurt you," Tommy told you as he circled over your clit.

Feeling helpless and defeated, you let out a sigh and allowed your body to soften slightly. You didn't want to admit it, but his touch did sent a shiver of pleasure through you, and you couldn't help but moan as, without warning, he slipped a finger inside of you.

"That's it , Love," he whispered in your ear, his hips rocking against your ass as he began to move his finger in and out of you at a steady pace before wasting no more time and withdrawing it from your slick folds.

You laid there quietly, trying not to make a noise as he pushed down your panties, completely exposing you. You felt vulnerable and exposed. His hand came down to squeeze your ass roughly, before moving to your pussy once more, parting your lips with his fingers and rubbing your clit in slow circles.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groaned as he continued to stroke your clit. Despite the fact that you were still uncomfortable with the situation, it was impossible to deny the pleasure building inside of you.

Soon you felt the head of his cock brush against your entrance and then he slowly pushed inside of you, filling you up completely.

Tommy let out a deep moan as he buried himself to the hilt within you, pausing for a moment before pulling out almost completely and then thrusting back in with more force, making you gasp as he did so.

He continued to fuck you roughly, his hips slapping against your ass with each powerful stroke, his breath hot and heavy against your shoulder blade as he leaned in close.

"Fuck, you feel so good, Y/N," Thomas murmured in your ear as he continued to pound into you from behind. His fingers dug into your hips as he pulled you back onto his cock with each thrust.

You stifled a moan, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how good it felt. But as he sped up, you couldn't help but let out a small cry of pleasure.

"That's it, Love," Thomas groaned, "You are mine. My fucking property." Thomas's voice was ragged and deep, sending shivers down your spine as he thrust into you from behind.

"Say it!" he demanded gruffly, his fingers digging into your hips as he continued to thrust into you with a relentless pace. "Say you're mine!"

His command was met with a soft whimper, your mind reeling from the force of pleasure coursing through your body. You tried to resist, but it was no use - Thomas had you pinned down and at his mercy.

"I'm yours!" you cried out, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them as you came, hard and fast, crying out loudly in pleasure.

Thomas let out a low growl of satisfaction as you finally conceded to his demands.

"That's right, Love. You are mine," he said, his voice dripping with lust as he continued to piston in and out of you. His fingers gripped your hips tighter, pulling you back onto his cock with every punishing thrust until, suddenly, and unexpectedly, he stilled, groaning loudly.

"No, stop," you gasped as you tried to wiggle away from him, realizing what was happening, but it was too late . He was already filling you up with his release, his movements slowing as he rode out the waves of pleasure coursing through him.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hot breath panting against your neck and his seed pouring into you as he filled you up to the brim.

Your body was still spasming from your own orgasm, responding to his touch even though your mind was screaming in protest. You couldn't help but think about how much you wanted to push him away and wipe him off of you, but your muscles were still trembling from the force of your release.

As Thomas slowly pulled out of you, you turned over onto your back and looked up at him with a mixture of anger and disgust.

"You came inside me," you spat out, wiping his essence away from your thigh as if it was of any use now.

"I did," he replied nonchalantly, a sly smirk playing on his lips. "Because you are my fucking wife after all," he added as he leaned down, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. You couldn't help but recoil at his touch, the thought of his seed now inside of you making your skin crawl.

He knew that you were not ready to become a mother , but it seemed like he didn't care. You wanted to shout at him, to scream and hit him for his actions, but you held back and simply turned around , climbing out of the bed with a grimace.

You hurried to the bathroom, needing a moment to gather yourself together and trying to wash away the lingering feelings of disgust you felt towards Thomas and his actions - but more importantly, towards yourself for allowing it to happen again and again.

As you stared at your reflection in the mirror, tears started running down your cheeks again, but this time, they were not from fear or despair- they were angry tears. Angry at the situation you had been placed into, angry at yourself for being too weak to stand up against it. Angry tears for the fact that, despite all of this, you somehow craved him.

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slvtforasht0n · 7 days ago

Text

Jealousy, jealousy

title inspired by Olivia Rodrigo’s track on Sour

.✦ || Boyfriend!Ash x Reader

.✦ || This is your first time being a stagehand at your boyfriend and his band’s show. Even though you couldn’t watch him perform, a particular interaction between him and a female fan piqued your interest. You couldn’t help but look, ought to see what’s happening. Instead, jealousy gets the better of you once you see what’s really going on, your mood permanently shifted. At least, that’s what it felt like.

A/N: first half is highly based on that one interaction that happened in the 5SOS diaries. forever jealous of that girl lol. anyway, i hope you like what i’ve brought out for you for my first post ever. kinda always wanted a tumblr account to post every idea or blurb i get, but ya girl can be very very lazy sometimes.

inspired to write smut ever since i had wattpad. saying this loud and proud. loved duplicity, stall and malignant so there’s that random fact (turn it up for all the other harries/directioners reading this)

i don’t write that much so i’m still trying to improve wherever i need to. ps. english isn’t my first language, so if you do spot grammer/vocab mistakes, it’s not on me sista, still learning:3 sooo i guess i’ll just finish it off by saying this; sit back, relax and enjoy :^)

CONTENT WARNING: fluff & smut, praise kink, oral (m!receiving), spitting, sliiiight dirty talking

WORD COUNT: 5,2k

────୨ৎ────

As much as you hate your boyfriend in this moment— he wriggled his way to here. His hands all over your frame, reaching to every spot he can find, almost as if his hands have a mind of their own.

His kisses grow more impatient, needy and full of want. Drawing gentle circles against the small strip of bare skin on your back, making you both break the kiss apart with a small gasp.

You weren’t sure of your emotions. Did you want to continue and make him have his way with you? Or did you want to push him away and strangle the living hell out of him?

A faint whimper escapes your lips in between the kiss, his hand traveling down to the heat between your clothed legs. That feeling alone begs to differ. As much as you don’t want to admit to it. You still have that small abhor, but also intense jealousy from what happened prior to all of this.

He breaks the kiss apart, his eyes finding yours. The hazelly green forest almost dispersed into his black pupils, blown out and primed. Fuck… you think to yourself. He looks so provocatively striking, like an erotic sex-god, which is enough to drive you wild— both in a good and a bad way.

“Let me make it up to you, amore mio.” He prompts, his hands finding your waist again to pull you in closer, showing you how induced he is, the want and need inside of him written all over his face.

—

This day has been…chaotic, booked, a haywire of physical and mental exertion that drove you into madness. Almost. You only had a 20 minute break before going back to work, crew following along, five different people guffing into your earpiece that just rubs you the wrong way. Being irritated isn’t even slightly nearing to what you’re actually feeling.

Finally, you walked inside the venue, a moment of calm before the storm. Happy you can let your guard down for another minute or two. You take a deep breath, moving scenery and props along with two other crew members, joining in after your one true moment of silence.

Being a stagehand at a show of your own boyfriend is uncommon, just something you’re not really used to. You’re not sure if you’re able to keep your cool seeing Ashton on stage, beating those drums expertisely, face etched into pure concentration. You always found it to be a work of art, to see your boyfriend practicing at home or somewhere that isn’t on a stage.

But hey, you bite the bullet once it’s showtime, having to face away from the stage, meanwhile he’ll be there to steal the show.

The crew had cued that the band arrived several moments later, and as much as you want to run away to find him, you’re still stuck planning, discussing and arranging tonight’s act.

Hours have passed on and exhaustion seemed to get the better of you. The small gig now filled with a couple of thousands of fangirls, boys, moms, dads, you name it. Two thousand to be exact. You’re not sure if it makes you intrigued, or uncomfortable. Either way, you find yourself lucky you’re not in that crammed crowd.

Playing more intimate, smaller shows was out of the ordinary for the band, something they wouldn’t have done a year ago or two.

The show has started not long after, and your back is facing the stage, eyes on all of these screaming fangirls for their idols in front of them, hands in the air, phones recording, but mainly their loud screams that’s luckily muffled by your in-ears. All you could do is focus on the beat of the drums, imagining his every movement of prowess, how trickles of sweat is already forming on his forehead.

You don’t have it in you not to look, so you do. Just the smallest of sneak-peak. Though, his eyes immediately found yours, like all of his focus was on the back of your head this whole time. Your heart starts to pound faster against your chest, turning your head back to the crowd ahead. Just keep your cool… keep your cool— You have to remind yourself every minute. Or rather every second.

You’re glued to the spot, making sure everyone’s safe and sound. However, there’s a small interaction going on between a fan and… Ashton. His voice being heard through the microphone gives you some sort of solace, your focal point on every pronunciation and syllable on the words that falls from his lips.

This particular interaction is focused on the fan’s cardboard sign, stipulating that it’s her twenty first birthday and now legal to drink, suggesting Ashton a shot. They expeditiously agree and brought the stunned girl up stage. Your eyes followed hers, turning around to look at the stage ahead. You didn’t have the heart in you to dismiss this and act like nothing’s going on.

Ashton’s change of demeanour, presence next to this fan, and just the overall vibes he’s got going on throws you right off the wall. It’s like he’s throwing her a curveball of coy behaviour, something that doesn’t sit right with you. It’s either that or you’re overthinking it. But then again, you might not be, especially having your eyes glued on him right now, watching him unfold into someone he’s not.

You hate it. You hated every second of it, watching the scene ahead. She gets to be the one giving your sweaty boyfriend a hug, a prolonged hug. Sharing a shot, looking into his eyes- him looking into her eyes. It’s like hot steams are blowing out of your ears by how much you hate seeing this with your own eyes. If it were possible, you’d throw Ashton’s drum kit right to his head out of spite and anger. You can’t believe him.

You’re definitely not overthinking, since you’ve picked up on him being ‘the man of the show’. Trying to seem more charming and appealing, in all the wrong ways. You know he loves getting this type of attention, boosts his ego in the wrong way and you’d love to just kick him right in the nuts.

Once the show’s over, you’re finally in your own privacy, changing your uniform to your day to day outerwear. A knock is heard on the door, catching you out of your hazy thoughts, while also feeling jealous and incensed. You open the door and you’re immediately knocked down with a feather.

“What are you doing here?” you utter, laced in a grim tone, not expecting to see his cheery face. Ashton stands in front of you, eyebrows raised by your surprising outburst.

“Checking in on my girlfriend. What else would I be doing?” He responds nonchalantly, entering the small room without needing to ask for permission. Of course he wouldn’t.

He runs a hand through his damp curls, looking around the room before looking back to you. It’s like he struggles to read you and why you’re not responding to him, why you’re facing away from him. “Hey…” He starts off, walking up to you and placing his hands on your waist, making you turn around to face him.

You push his hands off your body almost immediately, his eyes on stalks. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he counters, his eyes searching yours.

The more he acts this oblivious, the more you want to give into the idea of kicking him in the nuts and walking out of this room. You decide to just tell him before he’s going for the the well known question ‘are you on your period?’.

“The fuck was that up stage?” you angrily mutter, crossing your arms over your chest.

He seems confused, which is one more reason to be angry at him. How can he be so painfully heedless? You desperately need to just knock some sense into that thick skull of his.

“What?” he raises his arms in an ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ motion.

“Oh, so now you’ve got memory loss? Great.” you roll your eyes, facing the other way instead of him. Again. How can a human being manage to piss you off this much? It’s inane.

“Amore… tell me.” He waits for you to say something, anything at all, but all you do is stand there and glare, causing him to take a step closer to you. “Was it the girl who I did a shot with?”

Bingo.

You can’t help but roll your eyes again, as if it wasn’t that obvious why you’d be mad at him about that in the first place.

“Oh come on… Nothing happened, alright? Just did her a favour and probably made her whole night.”

“Yeah, right.” You bite back immediately, not buying any of the bullshit he’s spitting. You can’t even look him in the eyes. You’re deranged in anger, but also so confused and hurt. He’d never gone this close to a girl before in all the months you’ve been dating, so he surely needs to understand why you’re acting the way you are.

“Why are you making a big deal out of this?” he murmurs, managing to boil your blood to the point you could burn anything you touch into ashes.

“Are you kidding me, Ash?” you poss in vexation, glaring through his soul. Words can’t express how tense you’re getting and how much you want to wipe that foolish smirk off his face.

“Babe, you can’t be serious, can you?” He sneers, his eyes giving you a once over. You only let out a frustrated sigh, turning your back to him a third time.

You don’t know what he deserves more, a sucker punch right to his jaw or the infamous silent treatment. Maybe both could give him a well-earned reality check.

“Are you seriously mad about some measly fucking interaction? Really, Y/N?” he huffs, seeming more annoyed than amused this time. Which makes you, on the other hand, infuriated by even more rage.

The way he acts so unbothered is insufferable. You turn on your heel, facing him, an angry etched expression on your face he certainly can’t dismiss now. “You were flirting with her, you ass! Right in front of me!” You bark back, sick of his apathetic state. Just utterly sick of him.

“I wasn’t, Y/N! Why would you even think that?” he retorts, his obliviousness turning into annoyance, his arms now crossed over his chest as well.

You don’t respond, only letting out a spiteful scoff, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I really don’t see what’s wrong here. You have no reason to be mad at me. None.” he mutters, which is just the cherry on the cake, isn’t it? You let out another angry huff before turning on your heel and leaving him in the room, despite it being yours.

However, you’re not as quick as you thought you were as he catches your wrist, wrapping his hand around it and pulling you closer to him.

“Don’t run away from me, baby. None of that bullshit. Talk it out with me, curse me out, just don’t ever shut me out, okay?” he calmly explains, his eyes trained on yours with his eyebrows creased together in concentration on you. Only you. You take a deep breath, flicking your eyes in between his.

“Why were you flirting with that girl?” you ask after a long pause, your eyes focusing on that one curl that fell on his forehead.

“I wasn’t.” He responds, and it just made you feel even more obscured from this ridiculous situation that brought tension between you two.

You’re starting to think you might be overdoing it. Might be a bit of the jealous kind and just making this ought to paint you to be dramatic.

“Is that all you have to say?” you mask getting offended by his short, incoherent reply, just by answering repulsively back.

“What more can I say then? You’re making a mountain out of a molehill here.” He crosses his arms again, and it just messes with your head on what type of emotions and feelings are coursing through him. What his thought process is, ‘cause he’s doing everything he can to dismiss the issue. Dismissing your feelings that are as valid as can be. At least that’s what you wanna think.

“Never mind.” You pull away from his grip, sitting down at the nearest couch. You’re done trying to argue to a wall, because that’s the position you feel like you’re in, feeling trapped in a loophole if he continues to act this clueless.

He looks over at you, no remorse whatsoever, and that somehow rises more anger out of you, though you make sure you keep your poker-face. There’s no point anymore if he won’t try to understand you.

“Are ya really just gonna sit there and stare?” he asks. But after a long pause, he just knows there’s not going to be a reply.

“Silent treatment won’t solve anything, love.” he adds, looking at you across the room, his eyebrows furrowed as he runs his hand through his hair again.

“Y/N…Just quit it already, will ya?” he grows more annoyed and impatient by your attitude. However, nothing will make you utter out a word again. Not when he at least attempts to apologise.

“Fuck’s sake, Y/N… I don’t have time for this. I’m sorry, alright? I wasn’t flirting with the girl- would never do that.”

You think to yourself you might have overexaggerated on wanting an attempted apology, cause it just pisses you off even more.

“Talk to me…” he prompts, taking a few steps closer to you.

You don’t respond, and he takes it as some sort of indication to stride closer. He takes your hands in his, pulling you up to your feet and cupping your jaw, making sure you look him in the eyes. “Please?”

You hate him. You hate him so much you’re becoming a tough nut to crack, and he’s fully aware of that. He knows how stubborn and jealous you can get over the smallest things. Still, you don’t know where his mind is.

He pulls you in for a kiss, connecting his lips with yours, catching you by surprise. His hands are trailing down your body and reposing on your waist, pulling you closer than before.

If this is how he ventures his way out to say sorry to you, when you can’t take it as a simple word, you’re not…entirely against it.

You stare profoundly into his eyes after he breaks the kiss, his eyes searching yours—But your feelings are very conflicting. You so want to give in, but you’re still mad. And you still hate him. Well, you’re trying to make yourself hate him.

It feels like it’s been ages since you’ve uttered out a word, but that’s none of your concern as you pull him in for another heated kiss, your hand finding its way through his tousled hair, earning a soft groan on his end. His tongue slips out and swipes at your bottom lip, asking for permission to enter your mouth as you oblige immediately.

He has you fully wrapped around your finger. You can’t even be mad at him anymore, even if it’s play pretend.

His hands are on your waist, but it didn’t take long before one hand slips between your legs, making you instantly weak in the knees.

“Let me make it up to you, amore mio.” replays in your mind over and over when you brought him in for another desperate kiss, pouring out all of your feelings and love for him. The way he said it, the desperation in his voice and his dilated eyes— you can never say no to that. You need him.

You’re a hot mess, letting out huffs of pleasure as he continues to palm you through your jeans, like an attempt to hear you, even if it’s not through articulated words.

He pulls away from your lips, traveling his heated series of kisses down to your pulse-point, eliciting another hot whimper out of you. You’re dazed and all you want is more. More of him. Just more.

He hoists you up, your legs immediately clinging around his hips as he leads you towards the small couch, laying you down and hovering his body over yours.

He’s such a sight for sore eyes, carrying the grace of dawn and the mystery of dusk. Your eyes wandering over every feature of his face, just taking him in. He bites back a smile, his eyes lingering on your chest, then back to your eyes. “Want me to make you feel good, yeah?” his voice is ragged with desire, low and husky that has such a toll on you.

He goes back in for a fervent kiss before you could even respond, pouring out all of his love for you that makes you forget the anger you once had a thousand times more. Your hands wander over his shoulders, all the way down to his hips, pulling him in closer, trapping him in between your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist.

He lets out a low grunt in between the kiss, his hips grinding against your heat, drawing out another small sound out of you. His hands that has a mind of its own fondling your breasts through the thin material of your shirt, like he couldn’t get enough of you and he physically needs more. You want more of him too, totally entranced by him, the heat of desire pooling in between your legs with an intensified want to have him in ways that’s unrefined. He moves towards the crook of your neck again, marking you up as his.

You’re already impatient as is, your uncoordinated fingers fumbling with his belt, like you can’t stand seeing him in clothes for another wasted second. He lets you, still immersed in marking your neck up, making sure there are angry marks left behind.

Once you’ve found the zipper of his tight jeans, you tug the material down, his hands coming in rescue and helping himself out of his jeans. In an instant, he pulls at the hem of your shirt, dragging the material over your head and throwing it somewhere in the room. Your eyes have wandered off to the door behind him and suddenly you’re too aware that someone could walk in easily.

“Babe… this room has no lock.” you mention, evoking a small smirk on his face. “Don’t you think it’s more fun that way? No one’s gonna come in.” He teases, eyes shamelessly staring at your bra, like he’s trying to smog up the power to disappear things with his mind.

“But-“ he’s quick to pipe you down by a kiss on the lips. “No ‘but’s’, you’re safe with me, amore.”

You pull him back in, sick of prolonging this any longer and seriously needing a good fuck if he’s gonna make it worth the while. If this is his way to at least attempt to apologise, then he better makes it good. Not that he has ever disappointed you in that division.

He hovers over you again, faces inches from yours, his hand snaking under your back to unclasp your bra in what feels like a nanosecond. He pulls the material off your body like it’s some sort of pest- like he’s been wanting it off since the moment he had laid eyes on you. He nips and sucks at your skin, hands exploring every inch of you. He licks a stripe right above your boobs, staring up at you with a well-known grin, eager to have his way with you.

He swipes his tongue over your sensitive nipple, lapping you up and then latching you in between his lips, paying great attention to you with his mouth, suckling and nibbling on your flesh. His other hand wanders to your untended breast, his fingers playing with the other nipple. You let out a soft whimper, already captivated by his fervent skills, your fingers threading through his soft curls.

Your eyes catches his, a sultry grin appearing on his face that has you overdriven with more arousal, more desire for him.

He moves to your other nipple, giving it the same, equal attention, drawing even more sounds and pants out of you.

All you really want is for him to hurry up. Your mind can’t get off of that damned door that has no lock on it, and he’s about to undress you intimately, which has made you apprehensive. He quickly catches on by your stiff demeanour and he lowers himself down, licking a long strip down your bare stomach- trying to make you forget about the door.

You lull your head back, your breath ragged and uneven as you tug at his golden strands tighter than before, earning a low grunt from him. He sure knows how to make you forget about stuff in an instant.

He has his hands on each side of your hips, trailing them towards the button of your black jeans. He works his way to get you out of your clothes, fast and determined, pulling the fabric down your thighs as you help him kick off the material.

“So gorgeous f’me, amore.” he grunts, quickly discarding his shirt off of him, accentuating his perfect, sweaty body to you, the sculputred abs and delicious pecs staring right at you as we speak. You sit up straight on the couch with only the flimsy laced underwear you’re wearing covering three percent of your body at most.

His eyes widen the moment you drop down to your knees in front of him, head-level with the black boxer briefs clung tightly on him. It highlights the swell of his tent that’s covered by the thin material of his Calvin Kleins. Your doe-eyed expression seems to get the better of him, already biting his bottom lip from your sight.

You waste no time, hooking your fingers under the material of his boxers, sliding them down ‘till they drop to his feet. He’s quick when it comes to stepping out of them, eager for you.

You’ve seen him like this before, plenty of times even, but right now— it’s like his arousal is as painful as it seems. His tip an angry shade of pink, pre-cum glazing down to his shaft. His breathing is laboured, his eyes concentrated on you, like he’s trying to moderate himself, keeping everything under control before he snaps.

You wrap your hand around his cock, the smallest of touch already making him hiss in pleasure. With deep shared eye contact, you start to pump him slowly, collecting the pre-cum that’s spilling out of him, whirling it over his tip, eliciting another desperate whimper from his agape lips. His eyebrows are creased, the purity in his eyes completely gone- reciprocated into something more coarse and obscene.

“Baby.. open your mouth.” he demands in a breathier tone, and you instantly oblige. With that, he cups your jaw with both of his large hands, his eyes intensely staring at yours. You don’t know what to expect, but he stars to hover over you, his face significantly closer to yours. He gives you that snarky smirk you know all too well, and then makes sure to lift your jaw a little up higher as he spits into your mouth without caution. Your eyes widen a little, his spit landing right on your tongue.

“Now swallow f’me, amore.” he orders, and you do exactly as he says.

Jesus…even in times like these— he still tastes divine.

His one hand threads through your hair, his other leaving the underside of your chin. “Show me what you’ve got…be my good girl.” he growls, standing up straight. You’re completely gone off guard by this small interaction between you and him, but you quickly shake it off, your trembly hand going back to where it was before.

You lick a strip up over his shaft, swirling your tongue on his tip that has him already writhing for more. You finally take him in your mouth, wrapping your lips sweetly around him and taking him inch by inch, a swall groan leaving his lips in exchange.

You set up a space, sucking him as you wrap your hand around the part that doesn’t fit in your mouth, his hand threading in your hair expeditiously. Low grunts and groans escapes his mouth, totally entranced by your ministrations as he couldn’t help but thrust forward, meeting your pace and rhythm all. He hits the back of your throat at every thrust, tears already brimming in your eyes that eventually seeps down to your cheeks. You couldn’t help but suck him with more precision, eyes deeply concentrated on his breathtaking face.

The desperation and anguish is written all over him, like he couldn’t bear this and needs you in ways where it’s humanly impossible to describe. Sweat already trickles over his forehead, eyes pleading for you, in a way that makes you believe his pupils are contorted into spelling your name- his want like a screeching howl that blares through your eardrums.

In a quick motion, he pulls out of you and you take your time to catch your breath, heaving them out like you’ve ran a marathon, quickly wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He pulls you to your feet, hands on your hips and instantly pushing you backwards on the couch as your back hits the cushions, laying flat on the surface. Hovering over you, he delicately scans his eyes over your whole frame, taking in every detail from your tousled hair to your almost naked self. He traps himself in between your spread out legs, his length making contact with your lower abdomen, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

His arms are on each side of you, a few strands of his curls hanging over his forehead. “Need to fuck you, baby. Need you right now.” He murmurs, his voice hoarse and his tone laced in pure lust.

You bite your bottom lip as he positions you, hands firmly grasping your hips in desperation. “Please…” You utter out, the only thing your lips can form as a sole word, while your mind is going a million miles an hour with how much you have to say.

The warmth of his palms are soon replaced by the cool air hitting your hips, his hands sliding down to your thighs as his fingers prudently play with the lace of your underwear. “So beautiful…” He murmurs in almost a whisper. “I only have eyes for you, you know that right?” He adds, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, examining him. “I know...” you reply in a soft mumble and his lips quirk up in a lopsided smile.

You glance down his body, and the sight alone has you as weak as water. He pumps himself a few times, eyes still trained on yours. He pulls at the laced material of your panties, prodding his length right under the fabric as he teasingly begins to rub himself against you. You let out a stifled moan, eyebrows creased upwards in simple pleasure. He’s fervent with you, fastening his pace ever so slightly that drives you insane. “So wet f’me, yeah?” he grunts, leaning down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss.

Your soft moans are muffled in between the kiss as his hand that rested on your hip is now gripping your thigh, quickly hooking it over his shoulder. He positions himself at your entrance, gliding himself inside you fervently with your panties now pushed aside. A soft gasp escapes your throat, head already lulled back by how full he’s making you feel once he’s fully inside. After making sure you adjust to him, he begins to set up a slow pace, hovering over your body even closer as this new profound feeling intensifies, hitting you in all the right places.

“So fucking pretty for me, baby… Let me hear you, yeah? Moan f’me…” he praises, and all you could do in response to that is grow louder- despite still being in a semi-public setting. There’s a small chance someone could walk in, or even hear you through the door, but your mind is elsewhere. It’s on him, totally engulfed in pleasure he gives you.

“Taking me so well…” He pants, heaving out breaths as his thrusts start to become rougher, dragging out more moans out of you. “So good for me, aren’t you? Gonna fill you up so well...” He continues, his hands trailing over every inch of your body, fingers lightly pinching at your nipples, eliciting another whimpery moan from your lips.

He continues to thrust into you deliciously, hooking your other leg over his other shoulder, this newfound angle hitting your sweet spot delightfully over and over again. Moans spill out of you in an overwhelming sensation, that’s probably music to his ears by the way he’s thoroughly captivated by you.

His own moans fall from his lips once your hips buck up to match his rhythm of his thrusts. “I’m so close...” you heave out, eyes rolling to the back of your head. He takes this as a sign to fuck you harder. Rougher. Like he wants to break you in half.

He adds his thumb to your sensitive clit, drawing out louder moans, that has no way of becoming less when it’s only pitching up higher in decibels. “You’re so fucking hot, baby…So perfect.” he praises you, totally wrapped up in utter pleasure, the slapping sounds of skin on skin echoing through the room.

“Please…” you plead in a high whimper, not really sure why, but you’re completely overdriven in ecstasy, his thumb on your sensitivity never leaving you which adds to more pleasure, egging you on.

“Yeah, amore mio? Gonna give it to me, aren’t you? Show me… Show me how good I make you feel.” he groans completely out of breath, his chest glistening with his own sweat. He leans down, folding you in half like a damned pretzel, hitting you even deeper than before. He nips on the skin at the crook of your neck, humming against you.

“Making me feel so good…” he murmurs against your skin, his thrusts piercing more moans out of you, knowing how much you enjoy his rough side.

The bubbling feeling inside your lower abdomen intensifies by the minute, exhibiting that you’re nearing the finish line. He knows by your desperate pants and graphic sounds as he strives to get you to the pinnacle point of pleasure, picking up on his thrusts, fucking you harder against the cushions with fervor.

Your brain starts to feel like scrambled eggs, moving from left to right in a stirring pan as his lips finds yours in a sweet quick kiss, pulling away to look at you. His hands grip your waist as tight as ever, definitely leaving a mark behind. His whimpers like a melody you can never get sick of, no matter how many times you’re willing to repeat the same tune.

A few more thrusts in and you hear the familiar ringing in your ears as you near the edge completely, your climax washing over you like a tidal wave. You scream out his name in the process, clenching sweetly around him as he follows right behind you and finishes, trails of curse words falling from his lips in heavy grunts—filling you with his cum.

He unhooks your legs from his shoulders, pulling out of you with a small gasp. He crashes down next to you, heaving out hefty breaths. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, keeping you close to his glistening body. “See? You’re safe with me, just like I told you.” he breathes, letting out a soft chuckle.

You turn your face to look at him, a genuine smile formed on your lips, despite being completely out of breath. “Mmmh, never said you were wrong.”

He chuckles in response, planting a sweet kiss to your temple. “You felt incredible baby, definitely needed this after the show.”

You smile, all the anger and jealousy from before completely wiped off of you. “I always do.” you counter with a smug grin, giving him a bit of a tease.

“A win-win situation for me, eh?” He eyes you, eyebrows raised with a cheeky smile. You laugh, shaking your head. “Definitely.” You agree, a small giggle followed after.

“So… I take it that you’re not mad at me anymore?” He asks, his voice laced in a sincere tone.

You had almost forgotten about how immensely infuriated you were before this happened. “I forgive you.” you murmur, glancing at him.

“I mean it when I told you I only have eyes for you.” he utters, pulling you even closer than before, pecking the top of your head.

This was definitely a way to end the night, after a very small gig took place and how the man of your dreams next to you can have you riled up in anger as well as desire in the span of two seconds. You’re not complaining about it at all. You wouldn’t have him any other way— even if it means all the ups and downs that comes with it.

————

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lorkai · 11 months ago

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.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I'm a little biased as always when it comes to those two but this was one of my best fics imo, look at their happy faces. They're so precious! I love them sm ipjwiojweoijg. There's probably some typos but I'm super busy with uni stuff + can't find the time now to proofread and this has been on my drafts for a while now, so I'm posting how it is. Tagging u bcs u asked, I hope u like this silly fic! @hanafubukki

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Not necessarily a warning but there's some suggestiveness at the start.

"Today I'm going to steal Rook's hat!" Those were your exact words.

You said this at six o'clock in the morning, the sun still creeping across the sky to brighten everyone and everything another day, after having entered through the open window of Vil's room like a gremlin - how you did it he had no idea considering his room was on the top floor of Pomefiore.

And in that moment, when you gush about how smooth and soft Rook's hat felt to the touch, and how you would play with the feather and laugh at the surprised expression on Rook's face, Vil wanted nothing more than to turn to the other side of the bed and go back to sleep.

You threw yourself into the vacant space next to Vil, swinging your legs happily as you asked for your beloved's help. Your little puppy eyes making his heart clench and twist inside his chest, like it always did when you used that same trick time and time again.

Breathe, exhale. He remembered. He couldn't give in to your whims again, he remembered well what happened last time.

You invited yourself even closer to him, ignoring your personal distance to cup his face in your hands, fingers massaging the silky skin as you looked up at him. "Please, Mein Lieber."

For a long second, Vil wondered how he could love two persons as chaotic as you and Rook. You two were practically the same and more times than you should you followed the hunter around, imitating his mannerisms and making him laugh like that because you think it was funny. You liked imitating him and Rook loved to have you around, taking you to people watch while you both stated your observations on each person.

This and Rook liked to teach you the hunter ways. So far, you haven't killed anyone with your bad bow skills.

"Du bist die Liebe meiines Lebeéns." You whispered against his ear, consonants and vowels completely exaggerated and some pronounced wrong. And he ignored you, rolling his eyes, accustomed to your antics by now.

One of the different things between you and Rook is that the Chasseur D'amour would use flattery and his good observation to get what he wanted, you instead always chose to irritate people (mainly Vil) with your terrible German speech. Was it your only weapon or was it just because Vil couldn't bear such torture?

He preferred not to know.

You then changed tactics, preferring to fill his face with slow kisses but always avoiding the place he wanted you to kiss him. His temples, his cheeks, his nose, his chin, every bit of skin your lips touched made him feel dizzy. Vil could mentally hear Rook's whines if he were there, ignored, Rook was always so needy for his and yours attention.

His rough, chipped lips slowly descending though the queen's neck while his hands free from his gloves gently navigated Vil's sides and hips. He trembled in your arms.

"That's enough!" Vil looked at you, panting. He held you before you could kiss his eyebrows too. "I'll help you, but you better come here right now and kiss me. On the lips, darling."

You didn't need to hear it twice. The kiss began softly, a needy dance of emotions. But he wanted more, needed more until he was truly satisfied with it. You had woken him up too early, had disturbed him and irritated him. He needed this to restore his good mood.

He needed you like you needed him.

Time seemed to slow down as you met again for a kiss, and another, and another, and hundreds of others, leaving only a sweet freshness behind. That was how he described all the kisses he shared with you, all of them precious.

Vil felt you smiling through the kiss, he could feel the aura of victory and presumption that exuded from you. He bit your bottom lip hard to keep your attention on him, making you whine.

"However, the execution of this plan of yours will depend entirely on you, Liebling. I don't need to remind you that Rook is a great observer and will instantly know you’re up to something if you act differently.”

You nodded as if you were confident that your other lover wouldn't be able to notice anything. Or at least, that he didn't realize it until it was too late.

Later, after you had kissed Vil until he was beaming and satisfied, and his lips were softly swollen, you found yourself sitting on a high branch of a tree, hidden from view and engulfed by green leaves. Waiting for the right moment, watching your target.

You forced your eyes to follow every movement of your vulnerable prey, the one who was sitting a few meters away from you, resting in his usual spot and polishing his bow.

As promised, Vil was talking to Rook about a subject you didn't know what it was. His expression carried the usual serious air but it was accompanied by a calm smile. Rook had that effect on him. And in you too, as if he always knew what you needed to hear to smile, to laugh and to cry.

Yuu notices the way Rook tilts his head to better hear what Vil is saying and how Vil laughs at Rook's jokes. A few seconds go by, you very slowly starts to climb down from your hiding spot, at this point you didn't even need to think anymore, your hands knew where to hold and how to search. It was like second nature.

Finally on the ground again, you do your best to mingle with the tall trees and huge bushes. You can still make out Rook and Vil's figures, the hunter stood up, showing Vil his bow and arrows, and he demonstrated the correct way to hold it.

It occurred to you that maybe Vil was talking about some role he would need to play as an archer and you had to admit that captured Rook's attention perfectly. He was so excited while he explained this and that to his lover, you almost wished to forget your little plan and come closer to listen to him. When he goes on a rant, his beautiful green eyes lighten up while he explain and demonstrates, even more when he can answer some doubts.

'Focus, soldier', you thought to yourself.

The hunter handed his bow to the queen, placing his hands over Vil's and explaining how Vil should shoot to hit the target. And Vil did perfectly. As Vil gracefully executed the instructions, Rook's admiration was evident by his big smile.

As Vil's aim improved under Rook's guidance, you edged closer, careful not to disturb the serene moment. Careful to remember every little detail. You could feel the tension building within you, anticipation mingling with determination. As Vil hitted the target, Rook engulfed him in a warm and long hug, swaying side to side as if they were doing a little comemmoration dance.

This was the moment you had been waiting for, as Rook kept praising Vil, you were getting closer, silent, deadly, your hands strecthed to grab your prize. sensed the perfect opportunity to strike. Timing was crucial, very important for you mission, and you waited a little more, watching them.

His hat was so close now... The sun shone into it, making it looks so comfy. You almost wanted to rush, to grab and run but you waited just a little more.

Vil handed back the bow, still smiling. You could tell it was genuine, he was proud of himself to be able to hit the target even if he wouldn't use this knowledge anywhere. More than this, as he put a stray hair behind his ear, Rook stood on his tiptoes to give his queen a kiss as reward.

And was then that you emerged from your hiding place, your presence initially unnoticed amidst the rustling leaves. Before either could react, you grabbed his hat and ran as if your life depended on it. It was so much beautiful, so soft and comfy, you putted on your head, the last thing you saw was Rook's shocked but proud eyes staring at you.

You had accomplished your mission, feeling very proud of yourself. But now it was time to proceed with the next phase of your plan; run away from Rook.

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frozenjokes · 1 month ago

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cubfan135 and by extension zombiecleo get scarrrrrrred for life!

“Wait a minute, if you’re a computer, you’ll just know all the correct moves to make, won’t you? What’s the point of playing in the first place?” Cub sat hunched over the checker board on the kitchen table, setting up the pieces and simultaneously giving Scar the stink eye, to which Scar did not react at all.

“I thought you wanted to play,” Scar said, reasonable in Cleo’s opinion, given Cub was the one who asked.

“I do. But not if I can’t win.”

Cleo snorted, and both Cub and Scar ignored her.

“Well, I play games with the kids at the school all the time. Typically I adjust my own difficulty level towards the age range I’m working with, so if you’d like me to play as if I’m up against a kindergartener-“ This wasn’t meant to be an insult, Scar was usually very genuine and especially clear with Cub, but Cleo still laughed, and Cub fumed.

“No! Play at your highest difficulty level- I’m good at checkers, I can win.”

“You want me to play optimally?” Scar sounded concerned, probably because this was counterintuitive to what Cub had said about wanting to be able to win, but Cub only nodded starkly.

“I can win.”

Cleo watched them both from her place on the couch, the TV on low volume as she waited for the news to come on. She liked watching them, goobers as they were, her robot designed that way and Cub, just a fucking idiot, honestly. Hopelessly in love with a thing that could not love him back, whose feelings were faux for the purpose of fitting in, doing the job he’d been designed to do. Cleo told Cub this. Scar told Cub this, though he did not understand the gravity of Cub’s feelings regardless of how obviously smitten he was.

Scar might want to understand. He might want to, because that would be beneficial for his models, his job, making human connections. Scar wanted to make human connections because Cleo wanted him to, and Scar was designed to serve her, to improve in accordance with the job Cleo wanted him to do.

But Cleo did not want Scar to fall in love. Cleo could not make Scar fall in love, just like they could not make Scar care about his patients, even if he was quite good at pretending. Make people comfortable. Identify signs of mental illness in children. Perform preliminary diagnostic assessments. Recommend accommodations. Those were Scar’s jobs, all of which he was quite good at doing besides the occasional flub- he was still in testing after all, getting better every day, but..

This mess, in Cleo’s head at least, started with Cub’s accidental autism assessment. Scar was not supposed to assess adults, he knew that, but something in the programming- something with his priorities- It was really obvious, right? Cleo sympathized with the fact that Cub’s autism was a shining beacon of neurodivergence literally everywhere he went, but then Cleo would remember that Scar was a robot, robots aren’t people and don’t need to be sympathized with, and threw themself back into trying to stop this from happening again and again. But because Cub was autistic, because Scar wanted to corner him in the psychiatrist office so bad, Cub got all this attention, and one thing led to another before Cleo had some loser at their door trying to pick up their robot for a fucking date.

What a mess indeed. Cleo told him to stop. She told Scar to stop seeking Cub out where they both worked. Neither of these things happened. Cleo could have fixed it by messing with the programming. Using the same code she used to make Scar partial to her and the teachers he helped during the day, she could force Scar to avoid Cub as he was instructed to do with certain other types of people, but that felt.. mean. Given that Cleo and Cub were technically coworkers, she wasn’t trying to foster a negative workplace relationship, and she didn’t want to go to HR either. As much as Cub flirting with their robot was annoying, working as a custodian in an elementary school sounded hellish enough to Cleo, and they weren’t trying to get him in trouble for something so trivial.

Cleo thought it would burn out quick. That Cub would realize Scar is a robot, that he can’t care for Cub in the way Cub so desperately wanted him to, and that this was a lost cause. Cleo didn’t exactly want Cub and Scar to be unsupervised, so she started inviting Cub over, hoping he would soon realize just how fruitless this endeavor was. He did not. Multiple months had passed by now, and he had not.

Cleo had learned a couple things about Cub in this time.

Cub was probably the loneliest, most pathetic man that Cleo had ever met, which, given her background in clinical psychology, was a major exaggeration- Cub was fine, just with an air of patheticness that made you wonder how he’d managed to live this long on his own. He couldn’t make a social connection unprompted to save his life, almost never spoke unless addressed, and Cleo guessed there was quite a bit of social anxiety at play here, one he only seemed to be able to circumvent by talking to Scar. Which- not Scar’s intended purpose, but that was great! Genuinely, Cleo was grateful Scar could do that for him. Cub didn’t strike Cleo as a particularly miserable guy- he self-entertained pretty easily, he had a lot more active hobbies than Cleo would have guessed, and he had this creative streak he took pride in, but didn’t have many people to show it off to. He was stubborn as a mule, obstinate, and kind of an asshole in the same ways Scar could be on accident, though, if you told Scar he was being an asshole he would apologize and if you told Cub he was being an asshole he would stare at you like he didn’t understand why you were even talking to him. He was charming though, in his own way. He was funny. Cleo thought so at least, and she never got tired of the look on Cub’s face when she laughed at one of his little jokes; a little brightening, almost surprise, and that little smile that followed.

It took Cub a long time to warm up to Cleo, and he threw more than one fit over having most of his time with Scar be supervised, but quite frankly, Cleo did not trust either of them enough to leave them alone in the beginning. Cub regarded Cleo a lot like a wild animal, one that was used to living around people, but wary. A necessity to work around because Cleo had Scar, and Cub wanted Scar more than he didn’t want Cleo. He’d grown more confident in time though, just as Cleo grew more comfortable with him, and Cleo hoped he’d come to like her just as much as she liked him.

They had a bit of a schedule now, Tuesdays and Thursdays and some Saturdays Cub would come around, hang out with Scar and have dinner. Dinner had been a peace offering on Cleo’s part, mostly because they felt bad about the autism assessment, but it had become some kind of routine, one Cleo enjoyed. She’d always been inconsistent when it came to making food at home, often brushing it off if she was only cooking for herself, but Cub gave her a sense of structure, obligation, and being able to do this for someone else was easier than doing it for herself. Cleo liked cooking for someone else. Even if that someone was a picky motherfucker, but given Cub’s ideal dinner for the past ten years had been frozen chicken nuggets and microwaveable lunches, Cleo.. Well, they could fix him.

But it wasn’t always this way, ideallic, perfect. It couldn’t have been then, when there were so many things Cleo didn’t know. Hardly more than a month had passed when Cub started to get restless in her home.

“You should help her.” Cleo overheard him saying to Scar from the other room, not very nicely, which, didn’t matter because Scar was a robot, but it stood out coming from Cub.

“Oh, no! I definitely shouldn’t!” Scar said, far louder than Cub’s own whispered command, to which Cub shushed him aggressively, and Cleo chuckled to themself. Scar continued quieter regardless, but not quiet enough. “We tried that, but Cleo doesn’t like me in the kitchen. I get in the way and I can’t read her mind which is extremely inconvenient for both of us.”

Cleo swore Cub growled, but she could not confirm.

The next time he came over, Cub sat at the kitchen island and glared at Cleo the entire time they were cooking. Now, Cub always had a way of looking at you like he wanted to run you off the road, but this was different, like he was actually mad, and Cleo didn’t know what his fucking problem was so she just ignored it, letting Scar talk nonsense into his ear for the next hour. Cleo couldn’t actually remember if Cub said a word that night; she had just assumed he was in a bad mood or mad at her, neither of which bothered her.

“I brought a rotisserie chicken,” was the next instance, Cleo opening her front door to what could only be described as an aura of Malice, enough to make her wonder if Cub was going to poison her tonight to steal her robot.

“I.. You should have texted me. I already had plans, I was just getting ready to-“

“We’re having chicken.”

Cleo had been so annoyed, not even because of the potential attempt on her life, but he hadn’t communicated this at all! Not a word! They already had a plan, and Cub didn’t get to stomp on it even if his chicken smelled very good, this wasn’t how this worked. “We’re not having chicken. I’m already making enchiladas, I already-“

“Hello, Cub! Cubby Cub, there he is! You came late today!” Scar interrupted, skidding around the corner to greet him, and Cub walked inside without another word. “Wow, did someone try to run you off the road on the way here or do you just want to kill me?”

Cleo nearly strangled Cub when she found him putting all the vegetables she’d set out to start cutting back in the fridge, and the following argument got so heated that Scar shifted to his child conflict resolution program, a change jarring enough that both of them noticed, their molten hate turning directly on Scar with such vehemence that Cleo was shocked his wires didn’t immediately fry.

“I think you two could do with a little break. Come on, Cleo!” Scar put himself between them, herding Cleo out of the kitchen. Even on the verge of homicide, she stopped to make a note to work on making Scar’s conflict resolution sound about 250% less demeaning. It had been a while since she’d really seen it face to face, and that would not fly with children older than six. Hearing Cub fuck around in her kitchen put Cleo’s mind back on murder.

The table was set when Cleo was allowed to return (a rigid ten minutes later, and nothing she said made Scar budge), and Cub was staring at his chicken, so Cleo sat, wordless. They assumed Cub was planning on serving it, he just hadn’t cut it yet. He had the knife. He was.. looking at it. Scar sat down, happy as a clam, and Cleo rolled their eyes when they saw Cub had given him a plate. She turned back to say something snarky, but Cub was still staring at the damn chicken.

“Cub.”

Cub jumped, nearly dropping the knife. “What.”

“It’s going to get cold.” Cleo didn’t bother being nice, only trying to sound kind enough so that she would not be removed from the premises again. Cub looked like he would have loved nothing more than to exit his own skin, and Cleo reveled in it.

“I know that.” He continued staring at the chicken. A few moments passed. He looked at his phone, typing something while showing more emotion on his face than Cleo had seen in the past month. Bafflement started to edge away her anger.

“Cub.”

“I’m doing it!”

“Do you want me to cut the chicken.”

“I actually extremely do not want you to do that, it’s fine, I have it, I just-“ Cub glanced at his phone, gingerly lining the knife up at the center of the bird. His face was red, tense, he looked like he was about to cry. Cleo didn’t even have it in her to sigh. She got up.

What an oddly intimate thing, it was. Standing there in near silence apart from quiet instructions. Grit and dirt kicked over the remaining sparks of frustration by the simple act of Seeing someone, knowing him, teaching a skill he really ought to have learned by now, but there was no use in saying it, he knew, and he would rather be skewered on a rotisserie spit and roasted alive than be here. Part of Cleo was sad for him. The other part said This Is A Grown Ass Man, Grow The Fuck Up, but, ah.. that wouldn’t change anything, would it.

“What’s this about, Cub,” Cleo said when they’d sat down to eat, and it was not a question. Cub wouldn’t look at her, nudging the chicken he was shredding to pieces.

“You’re doing too much for me,” he mumbled, and Cleo was shocked he’d given a straight answer, even if it didn’t make sense. “I feel bad.”

“I don’t understand. Explain.”

“You make dinner. You don’t even want me here. I can’t do anything you’d want.”

This pinched her brain, short, sharp, and confusing, like the sting of a mosquito before you realized you’d been bit. “I have to eat too,” she tried, “You’re here. You might as well eat, especially if you’re just going to pick up fast food trash or eat something shitty at home.” This is stupid, they didn’t say. This is so dumb.

“I feel bad,” Cub said helplessly. “You don’t even order in. I can’t even split the bill. You go out of your way for me when I’m here, and you don’t even want me here.”

“I like having you here.” Cleo was distressed to see Cub look up, disbelieving. He looked back down. “I like having you here. And it’s not a big deal, it never has been, the excuse to cook has been helpful for me. I like to do it, but I can’t be assed when I’m alone. It feels good. I really hope you don’t believe I don’t like you just because you’re messing around with my robot, it doesn’t actually matter, you can’t break him or anything.” Graciously, Scar remained quiet; Cleo was relieved that he could still identify when a problem needed to be talked out between two people without inference. It probably helped that neither of them were screaming.

“You don’t have to say that to me. I know I’m in your way. I’d rather you just be honest. I’m a stranger in your home.”

Cleo didn’t expect that. She really didn’t expect that, and it caught her off guard just how much it hurt her feelings. Maybe he saw it on her face. It didn’t matter. “Am I a stranger to you?”

Cub was quiet. His lip trembled. “I’m sorry. I have to go. I have to go.” He left, stumbling. It was so fast, Cleo couldn’t even think to stop him. Scar tried, and Cub’s strangled sob to dismiss him from the mud room hit Cleo like a red-hot whip against their back.

“I don’t get it,” Cleo had hissed through her hands, sitting on the couch next to Scar. She didn’t particularly want to be talking to Scar, but she didn’t exactly have many options- Listen, Cleo wasn’t a complete shut-in, but they didn’t exactly have many friends outside of work acquaintances, and certainly no one they could just call out of the blue. Scar was the closest to a normal friend she had, and even then, it’s all just business, isn’t it? “I don’t get him! I don’t know what his fucking problem is or- or why he thinks I hate him or something! That came out of nowhere! Did it not come out of nowhere? I don’t treat him any different than I do anyone else!”

Scar was quiet as he processed, and Cleo tried to imagine something human inside him instead of the soft whir of fans and machinery. “I don’t know if that’s true. You don’t talk to most people the same way at all.”

Cleo scoffed, “I’m not at work, Scar. I don’t talk to him any different than I talk to you. Like a person.”

Cleo didn’t like the long pause.

“You don’t talk to me like a person, Cleo. I’m robot, not a person, so you don’t need to. You can be efficient with me, you can be mean, it doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I can’t care. Cub is not a robot.”

“I’m not- I’m not mean to you, for god’s sake!”

“I don’t think so. But you made me this way. I can only try to improve, and I do try. But Cub thinks so. He thinks you’re cruel to me. And if you treat Cub the way you treat me, then I think it’s not unreasonable of him to assume you dislike him. I think you dislike him too. You’re quick to joke at his expense, and you are no nicer in private. He’s a thorn in your side, is he not?”

Cleo gaped, sitting there in silence for ages while Scar looked so innocently back at them. “Why- No! I like Cub! Of course I like Cub!”

“You don’t act like it.” Scar had a way of delivering devastating blows like it was nothing, like it was an indisputable truth. Not accusatory. Not critical. Just. Robotic. Cleo was dizzied by the fact that this was really the first time Scar was hearing about this.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You didn’t ask.” That hurt just as bad, though it shouldn’t have. Scar gave information freely, but his job wasn’t to be an active messenger. To Scar, this was just a fact of Cleo’s relationship with Cub, a simple note on their acquaintanceship; Cleo dislikes Cub. Scar had no reason to think they’d want to know. Cleo didn’t ask.

“Why didn’t he say anything. I would’ve- fuck.”

“Oh, you’re not very approachable,” the answer came way too fast, but Scar offered no more information even as Cleo gaped.

“Who said that?”

“Oh, well..” Scar stuck his tongue between his lips, thoughtful as he started to count on his fingers-

“No!” Cleo interrupted, “No, I changed my mind, I don’t want to know.”

It was when Cleo went to text Cub later that night that they realized they didn’t even have his number- How did they not exchange numbers by now?? Why didn’t he ask- nevermind. Most times they made plans were at the elementary school, mostly through Scar.. Cleo hadn’t thought anything of it until now. If she really needed anything from Cub, she just emailed it. Fuck.

—

To: Cub F.

Subject: Apology. Or Something. I Dont Really Have A Title For This

I think I fucked up. Scar is telling me things I didn’t realize before and I think I fucked up. I like having you here. I like it when you’re over. I like you. I’m sorry that wasn’t clear. I want to fix this.

Here’s my number if you want to talk: XXX-XXXX-XXXX

Cleo

—

To You

No Subject

can I pay for your groceries

—

To: Cub F.

Subject: ???????

??????????????? No????????

—

Cub did not email or text Cleo back, to which Cleo had Normal feelings about, expressed Normally as she went to clean up Cub’s fucking chicken, stupid ass chicken, why the fuck did he bring a chicken over anyway, who in their right mind decides they’re bringing and chicken and just DOESN’T communicate. Even if they hadn’t exchanged phone numbers, he could have told Scar! Surely this wasn’t a spur of the moment chicken, this was premeditated!

Thank god Scar had a forced sleep mode when he was charging, or he’d have quite a few things to say about Cleo’s tossing and turning that night. She’d learned that lesson the hard way, and had an extra reason why she couldn’t fall asleep at night.

Cleo ended up going in that Wednesday, more desperate to see Cub than anything, but he did not want to see her, caught like a deer in the headlights in the doorway of his office.

“What are you doing here.” Was. Certainly a greeting. Was Cleo really the asshole here? Cub opened his mouth again, like he was surprised at how those words sounded once they left his mouth, but he didn’t correct either.

“I needed to see you. I really- I didn’t know. I thought we were friends, I thought- It was all banter to me, I never meant to make you uncomfortable or feel unwelcome. I really- I really do want to be your friend, Cub.”

Cub reached past them, and for a second Cleo thought he intended to leave until he closed his office door. Then he backed up. Sat in his chair. Put his head in his hands. “This feels terrible. I wasn’t ready for this.”

Cleo pursed her lips. Maybe cornering Cub in his office the morning after That wasn’t the most considerate thing they’d ever done. Cleo wanted to say she would go. She wanted to leave, but she hesitated, and in that time Cub spoke up.

“It’s nice, when people tell you directly what they think of you. You told me. You told me so many times. I was okay with that, I didn’t- I just couldn’t handle- I just wanted to pay the sum those dinners cost you, I want to feel even. I know you think this is stupid. That it’s all stupid, that it’s pointless, but I don’t care what you think about me, I care about Scar. I just want Scar. You can just want Scar too.”

“Cub, I didn’t.. I know how you got here, why you think all this, but I just- I don’t know. I’ve been kicking myself because of course in hindsight I’ve been horrible- joking that you should leave, that you're a pain in the ass, that this is all so dumb, but I.. I didn’t see it. I didn’t know. It’s been me and Scar for so long, and I wasn’t at work, I wasn’t trying to hold professional acquaintanceship in my own home, and I..” Cleo laughed, far too pitched, far too nervous, “I think I forgot how normal people go about having friends. I thought we were on the same page. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to be your friend. I don’t like you. I don’t think you’re good for Scar.” There was nothing emotionally charged about those words, and that was so much worse, draining the room of all but dread like a vacuum.

Cleo felt dizzy. “He’s just a robot, Cub, he doesn’t have feelings to hurt. He’s just a robot.”

“I just want Scar.” Cub wouldn’t tear his eyes off the floor. Cleo was glad he wasn’t looking at them, their face blotchy and red.

“Fine,” they breathed, hardly enough air in their lungs to speak the words. “Have him. I won’t make you come over anymore. Go wherever you like, given- Well, I have some instructions, guidelines I need you to follow, but.. I’ll email them to you.” The following words ripped through their throat like barbed wire, but Cleo could not stop themself from pulling the string. “I trust you.”

They left before Cub could say anything more. Cleo wouldn’t be able to handle it.

///

Cub wondered sometimes how someone like Scar could be born of someone like Cleo. How someone with only love for the world could come into being from gruff disdain, it really didn’t make any kind of sense in Cub’s head.

He understood very little about Cleo, and it scared him more than when she was just a divine asshole. How was it even possible that she’d thought they were friends? More accurately to Cub’s concerns, what? Just- What??? So much What.

Cleo couldn’t have made it more blatantly obvious they couldn’t stand Cub if they had written the words across their forehead, and being told otherwise felt like being slapped awake from a nightmare, only to find the world still just seemed wrong. Cub had mentioned to Scar Cleo’s utter contempt for him multiple times, and Scar had agreed! He’d said when people don’t like him he’s supposed to stay clear as much as possible, but Cub couldn’t do that because Cleo wouldn’t let the two of them hang out outside of her home until- until she dropped that bomb. Not only do I like you, I trust you, so here’s the choice to have nothing to do with me at all. What the hell was that???

Cub was grateful. It felt odd to be grateful, very odd, but he really did want nothing to do with her, which is probably why he was thinking about her all the time.

“You agreed with me,” Cub had said on his and Scar’s first date alone, lounging in Cub’s apartment. “You agreed, you said they didn’t like me.”

“I thought so up until last week!” Scar supplied, extremely unhelpfully. “Apparently we were wrong. Who knew? I’m wrong a lot though, so maybe this isn’t a surprise.”

“Is that what Cleo tells you?”

“Uh..” Scar trailed, “Well, technically yes, but I mean more in the objective sense I am wrong quite a bit, or at least not to their standard. But they programmed me, so I don’t think I’m the one they’re mad at when I make a mistake..”

Cub groaned, giving up.

The next couple weeks were weird, Cub not saying a word to Cleo and vice versa the entire duration, despite being painfully aware of each other’s presence. It wasn’t hard for Cub to keep out of their way, the two of them hardly crossing paths on a normal day, but he had a feeling he wasn’t the only one avoiding the staff break room.

And it’s not like they’d talked before. Cub never went out of his way to see Cleo, and pleasantries always felt forced, though maybe Cleo hadn’t felt that way before. Cub hadn’t actively avoided them before, especially when they had to talk occasionally about when he was coming over, but..

Cub didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about Cleo at all. Unfortunately he had an issue that he couldn’t solve alone.

Cub shut Cleo’s office door behind him, adrenaline doing most of the heavy lifting in this confrontation. “Why won’t Scar touch me.”

If Cleo’s eyes hadn’t already been wide, they certainly were now, a look of shock Cub wasn’t sure he’d ever seen on their face before painted plainly. Cleo was normally composed, calculated, but this seemed to throw her off balance, caught like a deer in the headlights of a car going one hundred and twenty miles per hour.

“Hi, Cub. Say again?”

“I need Scar to hug me before my skin crawls right off my bones, I need it, and he won’t. Fix him.”

“Cub,” Cleo’s head fell into the tips of her fingers, which pushed at the edges of her scalp, “Scar is a robot. He works with kids. Any touch is inappropriate touch in childcare, especially where parents are involved, and the last thing I need is some mom to start bitching about my program because Scar let a kid sit on his lap. Parents have complained about less. No touching. Ever.”

“What’s wrong with a hug!?”

“A lot of things, in some people’s points of view. It doesn’t matter if I know it’s innocent, if Scar knows it’s innocent, if the god damn teachers know it’s innocent, all it takes is for one parent to start moaning about harassment and I’m through. There’s already a clan of them that don’t like this program, but it’s not their choice, it’s the school’s. And so far, this thing has been successful, so I’d prefer not to lose my job over something stupid.

“Let him touch me.”

“Cub, no,” Cleo let their hands fall flat back over their face, “It doesn’t work like that, this is non-negotiable.”

“You’re a fucking bitch, you know that?”

Cleo looked at him through her fingers with lidded eyes, blinking slowly. Slowly again. Cub pursed his lips.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean that. I’m having a bad day. Disregard.”

“Yeah,” Cleo groaned, “Whatever.”

“Why can’t I be an exception. Scar does special stuff for you, doesn’t he? You’re his favorite, he’ll do like anything for you. Teachers too, they’ve got special control. He told me.”

Again Cleo blinked slow, then shook their head, removing their hands from their face. “Cub, Scar has priorities that rank above even the hierarchy of people who have ‘special control.’ He’s obligated to do what I say above all else, but sometimes his core programming overrides even that; he wants to make people happy, comfortable, accommodated. He’s made this way so he isn’t reliant on me for every little conversation, he can be somewhat independent, and there’s an override of course, but that’s not the point. If I remove the protections that keep his hands to himself, even if I manage to do it for just you, I think you know he doesn’t always follow the guidelines set out for him. He’ll see you have a positive reaction to the hug, he’ll do it with other kids, and if there’s a bug in the system and all barriers of touch are broken, that could be really dangerous for the kids. They love to get rowdy when they play, but what happens when Scar picks one of them up or pushes someone, it doesn’t matter if the kids were begging him to do it in the first place. There’s a million other reasons, but I shouldn’t have to explain it to you beyond this. Scar isn’t your personal toy. He’s a robot, and he has a job to do.”

Cub felt a lump rise in his throat, and it took all of his strength to force out his next words. “Just for one night. Please.”

“No-“ Cleo opened her eyes, then stopped, appraising. It took her a moment to speak again. “What’s wrong, Cub?”

He wanted to keep it in. He’d prepared for this, prepared for someone to notice, to ask, but he didn’t want them to know, he was so scared and he didn’t know why, he just needed to keep it in, but there was no one left to cry to, no one left to hold.

“My dad died. Two days ago. Just. Heart attack. He just died.” The dam broke. He didn’t remember falling into Cleo’s arms, but he never wanted to leave.

…

The wake was.. well, the wake was never going to be nice. Exhausting was an apt word, Cub was just exhausted, and the hours trickling past did nothing to ease the ache in his heart.

But it wasn’t.. it wasn’t horrible. It wasn’t nearly as bad as Cub had imagined it to be- how else can you imagine your dad’s wake? His mother’s had been terrible, and all he’d heard from his relatives was how draining it was to organize, but draining was a different feeling from crushingly hopeless, and Cub was too exhausted by the end to feel the weight of grief on his back.

It wasn’t a long event, not particularly large. Lots of extended family, the names of which Cub had to pretend he hadn’t forgotten, lots of hugs, a few tears.

Scar helped. He took on the burden of speaking when Cub didn’t think he could muster another word, he was high energy, but not inappropriate; if Scar crossed a line, Cleo would materialize out of nowhere to correct him. Kindly. She did it kindly, and Cub noticed.

Cleo stayed out of the way, but they stayed, the whole three hours. When Cub needed an escape, she seemed to slip seamlessly into his place, monitoring Scar and chatting occasionally with guests. With Cub’s permission, Cleo had told the elementary school staff about the wake. Cub wouldn’t have done it, not because he meant to keep this a secret, he just didn’t have the heart, didn’t want to force anyone to care, and didn’t want them to see him cry. It stunned and touched him how many staff members showed to express their condolences. He hardly knew any of them, hardly spoke at all, and still.. what a little community this was, huh?

“I’m sorry Scar can’t stay the night with you,” Cleo had approached Cub near the start of the cleanup, jacket draped over their shoulders, “He has to charge, and it’s not portable.” Cub hadn’t even asked, but he didn’t get the chance to say so before Cleo went on. “You can come over, if you want. Maybe that’s stupid- If I’m overstepping, tell me, please, but I just.. I don’t know. If you need the company.”

“I’ll be okay, thank you,” Cub didn’t have the energy to force any emotionality into his voice, or even process what this would mean to him with an awake mind. “My brother’s in town for the wake, so I’ll be hanging out with him tonight anyway.”

“Glad to hear it. Scar and I’ll be going then, drive safe, Cub.”

“You too,” he mumbled.

It was about 4:00 AM that night Cub woke up in a cold sweat with the realization that he hadn’t thanked her. He scrolled through his email for the phone number he knew was there, near panicked.

[4:11 AM Cub] thank yoy

…

[7:24 AM Cleo] who is this

…

[10:48 AM Cub] cub

[10:48 AM Cleo] Oh, no problem. Are you coming to work today?

[10:49 AM Cub] FUCJ

Luckily, no children shit their pants, so Cub wasn’t urgently needed that morning, though that didn’t change the scramble to get to the school after a panicked call to his boss.

He spent most of the day catching up with his morning work, so busy that he didn’t notice the little tupperware container on his desk until 4:00 in the afternoon.

‘Couldn’t sleep last night, so I made cookies. Thought you might like some. If I’m overstepping, please let me know. Hope you’re doing well. -Cleo’

Cub hadn’t eaten breakfast or lunch. He devoured every single one before getting back to it, feeling spectacularly ill by the time he went home for the day. Lots of groaning later, he managed to eat something substantial. With great ire, he set his alarm for the next morning. Fuck.

(The next morning was a Saturday, and Cub was halfway through getting dressed when he realized this fact.)

///

‘How is Cub?’ should have been a simple question, but Cleo had a hard time asking it in such a way that didn’t violate his privacy. Scar had certain guidelines in place to help protect him from blurting out every detail of every person he knew’s life, but Cleo needed access to the minute details of Scar’s day for the purposes of examining his progress, so when Cleo asked Scar ‘How is Cub?,’ just about every personal tidbit from Cub’s entire day as far as Scar was involved was laid out in excruciating detail. In Scar’s defense, Cleo knew Scar wasn’t qualified to answer that question; he was good at analyzing a human face in the moment to parse emotion, but asking how someone was doing in general was just too vague of a question, and because Scar was concerned with percision…

But Cleo couldn’t stop thinking about it. About him. Two weeks had passed, and they had seen Cub around a bit more often, but not enough to parse out if he was feeling alright. She didn’t exactly expect good or bad- she just wanted to know, wanted to help if she could. Cleo has this almost-compulsion to cook for him, they needed to cook for him, but they were far more worried about setting him off somehow, and they had already fucked this up bad enough. She missed him. Was it crazy to miss him? Cleo felt crazy, they felt dizzied by a pit of loneliness they thought they were immune to, turned to dating apps to fill that pit, then immediately stopped doing that when they remembered why they’d given those up the first and second and third and fourth time…

Cleo didn’t even want to date anyone. They just wanted to exist around people. They’d forgotten real people, and unfortunately, they had also forgotten how to behave, ruining the taste they’d gotten of companionship before Cleo could even call Cub a friend.

It was really a shame that Scar just couldn’t cut it for her. He just.. wasn’t human. Cleo was too familiar with him to be able to trick herself into believing it like Cub had done.

Still, Cleo tried to practice. She didn’t want to be mean, unapproachable, or any host of other negativities. There was no reason not to be unkind with Scar, he responded best to blunt, clear instructions, but Cleo found communicating these same messages in a nice way to be extremely challenging, and it frightened her that her ability to be concise, casual, and kind at the same time has atrophied so completely. Cleo was a businesswoman as much as she was an engineer, she was plenty capable in a working setting, but only then, the rest of her social ability seemingly flushed down the shitter.

At least Scar was good positive reinforcement, encouraging and optimistic whenever Cleo asked how she was doing. He was a little too good though; Cleo had no idea if she was actually talking how normal people are supposed to do it because Scar could only be a hype man. His main priorities were making Cleo feel good about themself and comfortable around him, so…

Cleo nearly throttled Scar when he tried to corner her for an autism assessment, but ah, this was not the first time and it would not be the last. Not until he completed it anyway, but Cleo did not need to worry about that shit right now. She had enough on her plate, like trying to figure out how Cub was doing without asking him or interacting directly at all.

[7:21 PM Cub] hey scar told me youve been being weird and want to hang out for some reason and he doesnt know why you havent asked me yet

[7:22 PM Cub] he also said some other things that were strange but idk nothing I haven’t done before

[7:25 PM Cub] youve been typing for a long time

[7:25 PM Cleo] Oh my god

[7:25 PM Cub] did I get him in trouble

[7:25 PM Cleo] Yes he is in trouble!

[7:26 PM Cub] :(

[7:26 PM Cleo] Don’t do that

[7:26 PM Cub] :(

[7:26 PM Cleo] >:(

[7:26 PM Cub] :(

[7:27 PM Cleo] I didn’t let him give me an autism assessment yesterday and he’s taken revenge.

[7:27 PM Cub] do you have autism

[7:27 PM Cleo] No

[7:28 PM Cub] neither do I

…

[2:48 AM Cleo] Can I cook for you

[2:50 AM Cub] dude what

[2:51 AM Cleo] I haven’t cooked in weeks. When you come over I cook. Just hang out with Scar like I’m not there it’s fine. I like it.

[2:51 AM Cub] you are confusing

[2:52 AM Cleo] I am trying not to be

[2:53 AM Cub] so ive heard

[2:54 AM Cleo] Unhear everything he told you. He’s a liar. He lies to make you like him, he literally does that all the time. He is such a liar.

[2:54 AM Cub] k

…

[4:32 AM Cub] can you make lasagna

[4:33 AM Cleo] Go to sleep

[4:33 AM Cub] youre literally also awake

[4:33 AM Cleo] You woke me up!!!!!!

[4:37 AM Cub] why the fuck do you have your ringer on

[4:37 AM Cub] how old are you

[4:38 AM Cleo] [bitmoji image of a Cleo caricature in pajamas, eyes closed and dreaming about running someone over with her car]

[4:38 AM Cub] im not coming over

…

Mending a fragile thing like this was stressful, requiring a gentle touch that Cleo famously lacked, but she did have one massive advantage in the ring that Scar did not, that being flesh, blood, and a beating human heart.

Whether Cub liked it or not, there were many things Cleo could do that Scar could not. When you knew Scar for long enough, the limits of his AI started to show through the cracks, which wasn't a problem for the work he was meant to be doing, but when you’re looking for a companion, those flaws could really drag down that pseudo human experience. Scar tended to circle around the same topics, repeat himself, lie, could be suffocatingly positive, and if he deemed necessary, overbearing.

Scar was also limited in the things he could physically do, which Cub had probably found out by now given the several dozen dates he’d tried to take Scar on. A few limitations were obvious; Scar couldn’t eat, and he couldn’t be near water or in the rain for extended periods. But there was quite a bit else as well, one of the large detriments being that Scar was not built to do much physical activity, he was not strong, and he could hardly keep you company on a brisk jog. He just wasn’t made to do any of that for extended periods, the machinery couldn’t handle it.

Additionally, besides actions he had been explicitly taught to perform, Scar was horrible at improvising and horrible at learning.

Apparently Cub had tried to take Scar to Top Golf which had gone terribly, though when Cleo said she’d never been and Cub insisted all three of them go together, she spent the first five minutes laying into him about the MASSIVE DROP right at the edge of their station. ‘:| there’s a net’ is NOT an excuse, not even Cub was explicitly told to keep Scar away from dangerous falls- Needless to say, Scar was banned to the sitting area, not that he really cared. He was still loud enough to talk over both of them, which he happily did!

Cleo guessed Cub had already started to regret his Date With Scar But Cleo Is There Also after that, though he definitely regretted it after watching Cleo try to golf. They had never done this before, not beyond mini golf, and they were appropriately awful in all the worst ways. Cleo would swing their club, watch the ball go in an entirely random direction, shrug, look back, and see all the color drained from Cub’s face.

“Was it really that bad?” Cleo had laughed, Cub pursing his lips in turn.

“It was fine.”

“‘It was fine,’ you say, through gritted teeth.”

“I can fix you.”

He could not fix her. Cub tried very hard, credit where credit was due, but Cleo never really Got It. She all but lost it when Scar called that she was doing great, and Cub, having endured a full hour of personalized torture, snapped back that she was not! 10/10, would golf again. Probably not without Cub, though.

There was not another CubScar Date Plus One for a while after that. The second happened when Cleo dug up a coupon for axe throwing that was about to expire, delivering the invite to Cub through Scar. She was delighted to hear he’d accepted; they’d been getting along so well these past weeks, and she was itching to get out and do something, but ‘getting along so well’ was thrown directly out the window when they played a competitive game. Cleo was a little rusty, but they actually used to be very good at axe throwing, and Cub picked it up pretty fast, but boy did he hate losing! After learning some basics, they played a game in which Cub lost horribly, so after he had to practice in his own stall in silence for thirty minutes before playing again, losing, and he didn’t SAY anything, but Cleo could just see it on his face, and maybe she couldn’t help but poke the bear.. This teasing led to a rage filled rematch in which Cub smoked her- he got so lucky! He was not that consistent normally-! But by the time that was over and Cleo was left Coping, neither of them were in a particularly good mood, glaring at a joy filled Scar who was forced to watch from behind a wire mesh wall the whole time.

Basketball could’ve been fun; Cleo hadn’t played since elementary school, but they liked a lot of the basketball games like Knockout and PIG! Unfortunately, Cub didn’t know the rules of PIG, and he really thought he did but he DIDN’T and no Cub, you don’t gain a letter for missing your own shot, you just move on to the next player! Why would you gain a letter for missing your own shot!! You just move on!! Perhaps their first mistake was choosing another competitive game.

The escape room though. That was the ticket. It had been a long time since Cleo had done an escape room, but something Happened in her brain when placed in a puzzle, thoughts moving at a thousand miles a minute as she couldn’t think of anything else but SOLVE PUZZLE SOLVE PUZZLE SOLVE SOLVE PUZZLE. Something similar must have happened in Cub’s brain, she saw it in his eyes, Wild. They moved around the room in a complete frenzy, speaking words that probably weren’t English, but the language of two deeply neurodivergent idiots who had just had their brains turned on for the first time in one hundred years. It was brilliant.

From then on, if an outing could be restructured to be cooperative, it was done. Like a flipped switch, everything was suddenly so much more fun, skill and competency mattering very little when one of them could pick up the slack.

And they still did get frustrated with each other, neither of them were immune to it, but they were starting to reach a level of understanding that made navigating each other easier. Cleo felt like animals sometimes, stepping on their toes, circling each other, watching through narrowed eyes when they weren’t entirely sure what the other would do or how they would react. It wasn’t.. bad. It wasn’t even stressful, Cleo was not afraid of Cub, didn’t believe he’d blow up without warning. It was just.. a puzzle. The two of them were a puzzle, holding on to each other’s pieces and unwilling to give them up, but through an odd game of chess, they were slowly putting the whole thing together, only to find quite a few of their pieces were built identically.

A strange feeling, really. Almost magnetic.

Cub’s existence seemed to be proof that Cleo was missing something, something they hadn’t even known they’d lost before Cub came around, but now that he was here, Cleo just couldn’t let go, they had to hold on until every last one of their puzzle pieces in his hands were safely in their own pocket.

Maybe that didn’t make sense. Maybe Cleo was just a lonely motherfucker who couldn’t put a name to her own feelings even after she’d been slapped in the face with them. But maybe Cub was in a similar spot, maybe he was the same. For goodness’s sakes, you probably don’t delude yourself into falling for a literal god damn robot unless you’re cripplingly lonely or something is seriously wrong with you. Or both. In his case it was definitely both, but hey, you could say the same thing about the person who made the unsettlingly human-like robot, Cleo wasn’t absolved of judgment.

“I think something is wrong with Cub.”

Cleo looked up, concerned until they remembered that if anyone showed even three or four mild symptoms of depression, Scar’s alarms would start blaring. This was such a large problem in the beginning that Cleo had to adjust Scar’s programming to need explicit permission from Cleo before even mentioning the word depression lest he tell a poor kid having a bad day that they’re sick.

“Why do you think this, Scar?”

“He hasn’t been coming to work! There’s been a new guy in his office for three days, and I’ve been asking, but no one knows where he’s gone!”

Cleo rolled her eyes, “Right. He’s sick, Scar. I texted him.”

“No he’s not.”

“What do you mean ‘No he’s not,’ that’s not how people work, Scar.”

“Cub never misses work! He’s always here, even when he really shouldn’t be! I don’t know why he comes when he’s so ill, and he’s had to leave early before, but really! Cub didn’t even mention feeling bad the night before when we were hanging out in his apartment. And he would have mentioned it, he can’t help but complain and complain. Gets really mad if you suggest he go home though. I don’t know. I’m not a doctor, but that seems like a problem.”

“It is a problem, but it’s a Cub problem, not something for you to get on his ass about.”

“Oh, I haven’t! I’m not a doctor.”

“I know.”

“But this is really abnormal for him, Cleo! Is this really not grounds for any investigation? He was weird the night before as well, near the end. He wouldn’t look me in the eyes-! I mean he normally doesn’t do that.. He hardly said a word near the end of the evening! Well… He was just so- so distant!” Scar pursed his lips, like he was trying to determine was a Cub normal or not. Cleo cut in before he could continue.

“You are not allowed to investigate anything of the sort. I will text him later, alright?”

Scar did not seem pleased, but of course he wasn’t, because this wasn’t really about Cub’s state of mind, it was about being told that he wouldn’t be allowed to chase the ever-tantalizing depression screening- god, Cleo really needed to find a way to make Scar less driven. It had always been pretty bad, but seriously! If only the guy Scar spent so much time with wasn’t so fucked in the head, but Cleo supposed Scar wouldn’t be spending all that time with him otherwise. A pang of- something, maybe guilt, tugged at her heart. This was bad. This was so bad, and it had been bad before when Cub was an idiot stranger fawning over their robot, but..

Cub was their friend. Cub was their friend, and he was in love with an entity that could not love him back. An entity whose interest in him stemmed solely from a drive to do its job.

Scar was not real. And maybe, as crazy as it was, that could be fine if not for the fact that realness was the pivotal factor that Cub craved.

Cleo saw it, clear as day. The wincing when Scar’s intentions were most clear, the rejection of the reality of Scar’s lack of personhood, the longing when Cub reached for his hand, only for Scar to pull away.

Whatever Cub was searching for, he would not find it in Scar. Cleo mourned that loss for him.

They texted Cub later that night, wishing him a speedy recovery, and offering to drop a meal off at his apartment. Cleo really did believe he was just sick, though if he did have a history of coming into work half dead, they were a little concerned for him, especially if he didn’t have anyone else in the area to check in.

[10:33 PM Cub] that would be really nice

[10:33 PM Cub] thank you

[10:35 PM Cub] just you though? scar is a little much for me right now

The last message dropped like a stone in Cleo’s gut.

It probably meant nothing. Why would it mean anything? Cub was sick, really sick, and Scar was a lot to handle on a good day. But Cub had never asked for Scar to be excluded, and besides brief moments at the elementary school, Cleo and him had hardly ever been alone together. It felt wrong to see Cub without Scar, she was so sure now something was wrong, and now more than ever had Cleo trusted Scar so completely in her entire life. Silly. That was silly. Cleo supposed she could ask Scar about the night before Cub got sick, but that felt like a pretty blatant breach of privacy, and Scar was quietly charging anyway.

[10:41 PM Cleo] Great! Can I come tomorrow? Is 7:00 in the evening okay?

[10:42 PM Cub] sounds good

Cleo put down their phone and closed their eyes.

…

Cub looked like a zombie when he answered the door, his apartment mirroring a similar state. Three days really wasn’t that much time for things to fall into complete disrepair, but the small room smelled, and beyond the BO, Cleo had the sense the trash needed to be taken out yesterday, the lid propped up and overflowing with dirty paper plates and bowls stacked haphazardly on the counter above. Cub took on a delayed look of embarrassment when he saw Cleo looking over his shoulder.

“‘M sorry. It’s not usually this bad..”

“It’s fine, Cub. I’ll take your trash down on my way out, I saw the dumpster tucked around the corner.”

“You don’t have to.”

The two of them sat in an awkward silence for a moment, Cub stiff in the doorway while Cleo waited to be invited in, under the impression they’d be eating together.

“I insist,” Cleo said, clearing their throat. “Can I fix you a plate? I’ll clear the counter, we can sit together.”

“Oh god,” the words seemed to fall on complete impulse, and while Cub lacked a filter on a good day, he seemed genuinely distressed he’d said that aloud, “Cleo, it’s a mess in here, seriously. I didn’t.. I couldn’t clean up before you got here. We don’t have to sit.”

“If you weren’t planning on having a guest, then I’ll go, Cub, you’ve just been holed up for a few days by yourself, and I thought the company might be good for you.”

“How would you know I was alone?” The question had a pointed edge, but the both of them near simultaneously looked over Cub’s shoulder, which fell in turn. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “You can stay.”

“I don’t have to,” Cleo was starting to feel bad, worried she was being too forceful, an anxiety that doubled when Cub glanced up at her, face blotchy and eyes red, looking so much like he was about to cry.

“Please stay.”

“I’ll stay, I’ll stay.”

Dinner was eaten mostly in silence, awkward especially because Cub couldn’t seem to bring himself to just sit down and eat, running around in a frenzy with a garbage bag like he could salvage the image of a neglected apartment in the wake of a bad illness with no one around to care for him. Cub had this dizzy look about him, unsteady on his feet, and Cleo really did believe he was ill, just running on a sudden frenzy of embarrassment fueled energy. Cleo tried to help, but this seemed to distress Cub further, and she really wasn’t trying to make him cry tonight.

Cleo watched him eat when he could finally bear to do it, the built up trash in piles by the front door. A sad, silent endeavor. Everything was so quiet without Scar around. Neither of them were used to holding a conversation alone, it seemed.

“Will you sit with me? Just for a little while,” Cub said once he finished, a true shock for Cleo who was convinced at this point he wanted nothing more than for her to be gone from his apartment, but she did not refuse. It must be lonely, being isolated here for so long. Cleo was starting to wonder if this was the aftermath of his father’s passing; holding out just fine for so long, then succumbing to the gravity of it a few months later. That must have been at least part of it.

They moved to his couch, several blankets scattered across it, and Cub sat close to her, quite close, but if closeness is what he needed right now, Cleo would not reject it. They wouldn’t have rejected it if closeness was just a fleeting want, as they had their own desires for human connection and warmth. Didn't everyone?

Cleo didn’t have many thoughts in those couple of minutes, sitting together with the TV volume on low, though neither of them were watching. She had feelings, the vague, swirling kind, the ones you couldn’t grasp on to, but were strong, so strong, nearly overwhelming. The static of the TV couldn’t compare to the noise in her own mind, loud and and swelling and formless, and when Cub’s spoke, his voice was almost lost in the waves.

“I’m in love with you.”

The world stopped spinning, or maybe Cleo stopped breathing, something happened, something completely beyond her in every possible way, something was happening, and then Cub was crying, no, sobbing, holding her, and Cleo hadn’t even said a word.

“Oh, god. Thank god. I was so worried- I was so scared you might not be real.”

“What?” Cleo nearly laughed, but they didn’t, this was too weird, too much.

“I told Scar. I told him, and nothing changed. I told him, I’m still in love with him, I love him, but he- he doesn’t- he isn’t-“

“So I’m second best,” Cleo mumbled, and this time she did laugh, because really, this was hysterical, wasn’t it. Maybe she was hysterical, there was certainly something monstrous blooming in her chest.

“No, not.. No, Cleo, I’m sorry, I don’t..”

“You want Scar, but you can’t have him. Scar’s a robot, and you don’t want a robot, and you didn’t believe me when I-“

“I know!” Cub wailed, but Cleo didn’t care, didn’t want to stop. She pushed him away.

“So that’s what this is about, of course. Of course! You can’t have him, but oohhh, at least there’s Cleo, Cleo’s human, and she made Scar, that’s nearly just as good. I don’t care if you’re fucking delusional, Cub, but you don’t get to paint me red as well.”

“I don’t love you.”

“I fucking know!”

“I’d still like to kiss you.”

“Then fucking do it already!”

There was nothing pleasant about it really, no, nothing pleasant at all, and it was pretty obvious it had been a while since they’d both done this, but Cleo was still trying to pry those puzzle pieces out of Cub’s hands, and as much as she didn’t want to kiss him, she wanted to be whole even more.

It was a wet kiss in all the worst ways, Cub’s face was wet, Cleo couldn’t touch him without getting wet, and that was gross, and so was the kiss for that matter. It was uncoordinated, they hated his spit on her lips, his tongue in her mouth, they hated it, and they would fight to keep it just like this, hot, wet, Cub fucking smelled, Cleo needed to make him shower after this, he was sweaty, or maybe they were both sweaty, both wet because Cub was crying so damn much.

It was not sweet. It wasn’t even erotic, but Cleo still let their head fall back when he kissed their neck, when his hands found their way under their shirt, almost hesitant, but far more desperate.

“Don’t stop,” she mumbled, and he did not.

…

When Cleo woke up, it was dark, and for a panicked moment they truly did not know where they were, eyes wide, momentarily grasping for anything familiar until their hands found him.

Oh.. Oh god.

“Cub. Cub.” Cleo reached to shake him, but she didn’t have to, his head turning slowly to reveal bleary brown eyes.

“What’s up,” he mumbled, so inaudibly that Cleo had to pause to parse what he’d said, though Cub seemed to take this silence as an invitation to turn back into his pillow. Cleo stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He was warm, a little too warm; did he still have a fever?

“We need to talk about this.”

Cub blinked at her like he was confused, then reached for his phone to check the time. Half past 3:00 AM. He shrugged. “We might as well.”

“And you need to shower.”

“Fuck, I really don’t want to do that.”

Luckily, it took very little physical force to get Cub out of bed, and unlike Cleo, he was not wearing very many clothes, so. The two of them stood barefoot on the cold bathroom tile, watching the water warm up in uneasy silence, Cub with a towel around his waist.

“Are you just going to be standing here, or..” Was he waiting for her to leave? Well, that would be logical, wouldn’t it.

“You seem like the kind of guy that takes two hour showers, I can not wait that long to talk.”

Notably, Cub did not deny this. “I do not have to shower right at this very moment. We can talk. I want to talk.”

“You need to shower.” Cleo pursed their lips, more distressed in the moment by the fact that she fucked him when he was that gross and also sick and also crying than the whole.. fiasco before that. She also felt gross, but she could wait her turn. It’s not like she brought a change of clothes..

“Well, alright.” A little sheepishly, Cub slipped his towel through the shower door handle for easy access, then stepped inside. It wasn’t exactly like there were many physical barriers between them anymore, but Cleo could sympathize with the fact that this felt fucking weird. They were too restless to turn away. The fogged up glass covered most of him at least.

Cleo decided to let him get acclimated, and started. “Cub, I don’t really know what you’re going through here, but I think I’m owed some kind of explanation, because really, what the actual fuck.”

Cub shut off the water. “I can’t hear you.”

“I said What The Fuck.”

“I thought you said more than that.”

“That was the jist. Turn the water back on, you’ve got work to do.”

Cub grimaced, but did as he was told. Over the running water, he had to yell, “I’m really sorry, Cleo! I was in a bad place last night- tonight I guess, and I know that’s not an excuse or anything, that was a..” as Cub started to quiet down, his voice was lost to the water, and Cleo was starting to see the problem.

“What?” They called, and through the steam, they saw Cub blink.

“Sorry, what?”

“What did you say before? That last bit.”

“I- Oh,” and again Cub started loud, slowly trailing off as his voice returned to its usual mumble, “It’s not an excuse. I know it’s not an excuse, but if you want me to explain to you exactly where I was at with us both knowing I’m not trying to excuse it I think that might be helpful for…” and just like that, Cleo couldn’t hear him again.

“Alright, I’m coming in.”

“Wh- What?”

Cleo didn’t know if Cub was confused or if he genuinely didn’t hear them, but either way, the shower door to Cub’s quite small cubicle was open, and Cleo barged in, clothes and all. Yelling and scrambling on Cub’s end was probably appropriate, and honestly, what Cleo was doing in their delirious state was definitely not appropriate, but they couldn’t wait any longer.

“Why did you do it? Why did you tell me you loved me when I- we both know you don’t. We both know it. And that was- it- I like you, and who knows what that even means, but I like you and that was cruel. It was cruel, Cub.”

Cub breathed hard for a moment, probably still flustered by Cleo busting into his shower and getting soaked despite trying to keep out of the stream, but regardless, he straightened slightly, collecting himself.

“I know. I mean- I didn’t know you- I had no idea, really, but that doesn’t make it better, it was stupid all the way through, and I- okay, Cleo, can I just shut the water off?”

Cub reached for the knob, and Cleo slapped his hand away, overcome by something like panic, “No! No, I want it on. This is good.” It felt good. She was cold, and that felt appropriate, real.

Cub stared at her for a long time, not even moving the tuft of greasy hair that had fallen over his eyes. “I told Scar. I told Scar I loved him, I love him, and then I saw him. I saw his eyes when I told him. I saw him, and nothing changed. Nothing changed. He just smiled at me, crooked, sweet, like he always is. But he has no idea. He has no idea, and I saw it staring me right in the face, and it felt like everything was falling apart. And I was so scared. I was scared that it wasn’t just Scar, that I never noticed because I never- I never look, I just couldn’t remember if everyone I’ve ever known had nothing behind their eyes, I couldn’t remember, and I was so scared, and then I got sick, and it got so much worse.”

Cub looked at the ground. “It was just an excuse at first. Waking up with a sore throat, I thought what a good excuse not to come into work. So I don’t have to see him. See anyone. But then it.. It’s really been a while since I’ve gotten so sick, and I probably passed that all on to you..”

He took a deep breath, then snorted water out of his nose. Wiped the hair out of his eyes. “I didn’t plan that. I didn’t think at all. I just had to know if I’d really tricked myself so damn bad that I.. I don’t know. I was scared that you weren’t real, and I had to find out, and all I could think about was the way he looked at me. I was so convinced I’d lost everything to just- delusions. Believing what I wanted to believe, even when everyone in the world told me it wasn’t true. I didn’t know what to do. And I do like you, I don’t know- I mean, who knows anything these days, but.. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry about initiating too, I used you. I needed to feel good about myself and I used you, and it didn’t even feel good because I’m fucking sick and feel a little like I’m going to die all over.”

The following silence deafened, and Cleo didn’t know exactly what to say, so they distracted themself by pulling their damp hair behind their ears, wiping their eyes, itching a mild scratch on their arm. They wanted this to fix them.. They’d asked for an explanation and gotten one, but they only felt sick to their stomach.

“I don’t feel better.”

“I understand.”

“I think I’m going to go home.”

“You can stay, Cleo. At least dry your clothes, I’ll sleep on the couch when I’m done.”

“They’re not too wet,” Cleo mumbled, near inaudible, and shivered from the cold breeze as she opened the shower door. Too cramped in there anyway. “ I want to go home.”

Cub was quiet for a long few moments, watching with those somber eyes. He shut the water off. “Take care, please.”

“Bye, Cub.”

Cleo heard the water switch back on as she left the bathroom, leaving wet footprints in her wake. They did not take the trash on their way down.

///

After speaking very little to Cub in the past two weeks, the last thing Cleo expected was to have him running around her house like a chicken with its head cut off.

It was hard to care with a 102° fever though, and Cleo was so dead to the world that their only concern was the stomping of Cub’s shoes, shaking the couch pillows just enough to make Cleo feel like her head was going to explode. Why did he have to run around so much anyway? He was cooking- some kind of soup, Cleo was pretty sure. What was his problem?

But it was sweet, a little bit. Cub was as neurotic as a broody mother hen, but in a way, it was nice to be taken care of. No one had really done this for Cleo since her parents when they were a kid, and years upon years of lonely fevers had crushed the hope of someone else picking her up and making it all better, but..

Maybe it didn’t have to be that way. Maybe that practical reality she’d drilled into herself about the tenets of a life alone weren’t so needed anymore. She could call Cub, if she wanted to. He would come, even if he had to face Scar, he would come.

Cleo’s heart still ached, but not as deeply as her head. For now, it could be ignored.

Cub brought her a bowl to the side table next to the couch where say lay, cautioning her that it was hot, that she didn’t need to eat all of it, but she did have to drink more water, and after she’d had a few bites she should probably take another Tylenol, but not on empty stomach, and honestly after that Cleo started to zone him out.

Cleo pushed herself up to sit, peering into the bowl. It was.. well, she didn’t see a whole lot of broth. She had kind of been looking forward to that…

“I think I put too many of the noodles in. I just- I mean I used a lot of the box, but I thought well the box must be one serving, right? Why shouldn’t I use the whole thing? And then I did. And then the soup disappeared. Is it bad.”

Ah. That made sense. “I haven’t even tried it yet,” she mumbled with a weak roll of her eyes. Cub wasn’t usually a nervous talker, but a switch seemed to have flipped in him tonight.

Cub ran away, in what Cleo thought was terror of their impending opinion until he returned with his own bowl. Cleo took their first bite as he recentered the room, and honestly, had no idea what to think. Her tastebuds were out of wack from the illness, that was for certain, so she couldn’t really tell if this was actually that bad or…

Cub took his own bite. He sat down. Placed his bowl carefully on the coffee table. Put his head in his hands.

“Fuuuuuuck…”

“It’s fine, probably,” Cleo tried, though they really wished they could give him more feedback without the interference of messed up tastebuds. “You put salt in it, right?”

“I-I did! I tried! It really felt like a lot of salt, Cleo!”

“It always feels like a lot,” Cleo mumbled, but not without a smile. She took another bite. It wasn’t so bad. It soothed that desire for warmth against her sore throat and it.. no, it didn’t really do anything else. Cleo thought for a moment. “Did you season it at all?”

“The chicken broth was seasoned.”

“Did you season it?”

“Was..” Cub pursed his lips, staring miserably at his bowl. “I tried..?”

Yeah.. that checked out. Cleo closed their eyes, holding the bowl close to her face and throat. Breathing it in. They were pretty sure it smelled good.

“You’re sweet, I think so.”

“It’s terrible! It’s literally terrible!”

“It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad that your 30 year old adult ass can’t cook,” Cleo sighed, but they were not unhappy. It’s not like they would be able to appreciate a good soup anyway. “That’s okay.. It’s not, but you’ll learn.”

“I’d like to. I would, if you’d teach me.”

Cleo side eyed him, uneasiness squirming in their chest. Did they really want this? They thought they might, and as much as they hated getting burned, the fire was just so enticing, wasn’t it. It was hard. And maybe this wasn’t a commitment she would make with a foggy head and an aching heart. Tomorrow she might feel better, might not want to see him just like the weeks before. Cub looked up, and then immediately back down.

“Or I’ll- I mean- I could watch a video or take a class or-“

“I’ll teach you.”

“You will?”

“Yeah.. I think I’d like that.”

Cleo could worry about the truth of that statement another time. At the very least, if she changed her mind, she could always just say so. But she didn’t want to be angry. She didn’t want to be so sad. And she wasn’t quite ready to let this go, not just yet. Neither was he, it seemed. He’d already let Cleo back into his life once before.

Cleo closed their eyes, letting themself enjoy the warmth of the bowl against her neck. A problem for later. For now, they would let themself enjoy him.

#hermitcraft #hermitfic #hermitcraft fic #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #cubfan135 #zombiecleo #hermitshipping #convex #cubscar #club #cubcleo

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year ago

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Ok so, before the indigo disk released I heard there was going to be people with competitive movesets, so before it released I literally made myself an entire competitive team. IM A CASUAL PLAYER 😭😭 and I just think it’d be really funny that carmine and kieran would probably think i’m just gonna stroll up with my usual team but nope swords dance + scale shot 💃 if you could write their reactions to the new squad I just think it’d be funny lmao

(If you want the team I made for reference, it was koraidon, ogerpon, chien-pao, blood moon ursaluna, armarouge, and a shiny slither wing because I felt like having a shiny so I hunted one lol)

- 🪑🥚

Bro I went into the Indigo Disk 100% blind so you can imagine my shock when I realized double battles were gonna be everywhere </3

I mostly had a "fuck it we ball" mentality going through it (which made some battles go on for WAY too long), but later I taught my Ceruledge Poltergeist when I realized almost every NPC in the dlc uses held items.

Funny enough Ogerpon (with Spiky Shield) and BM Ursaluna were on my team. He was an absolute TANK with the assault vest and he knocked out Hydrapple with a Moonblast

Anyways enough rambling and onto the request!

......

Kieran

He was expecting your usual team when you started challenging the BB Elite Four, rolling his eyes at the thought of you trying to use the same old tactics to defeat him.

But he's changed. He's gotten stronger and wanted you to be surprised by what he can do now.

Instead, though, when you arrive to the championship battle...not only did you bring out Ogerpon with her teal mask to (supposedly) insult him, but you also had Chien-Pao, which may spell trouble for his Dragonite.

He'll admit, you were clever to bring a Pokémon who could lower the defense of all the others and cut their HP in half with Ruination..but he doesn't give up yet.

Seeing a shiny that looked like a Volcarona but fluffier was certainly bewildering--as is the Bloodmoon Ursaluna you managed to tame back in Kitakami and the Armarouge who sets up a Psychic Terrain to boost its Expanding Force, allowing it to hit two of his Pokémon at once.

Oh, and apparently you have not one but TWO Koraidons, with the one you brought into battle being more brash and a fierce fighter in its Apex build.

You set that one up with a Swords Dance + Scale Shot combo that absolutely kicks ass, somehow striking your opponents 4-5 times whenever you command it.

Kieran's certainly gotten smarter about his team, but so have you, and he's livid about it.

It was like you enjoyed knocking him down over and over again...yet he can't hear the reluctance in your voice as you utter the final move that finishes off his Hydrapple.

You knew you had to win. He needed to be humbled.

But it didn't feel good at all as you watched him crumble and Drayton rub his loss in his face.

Carmine

When you battled her, she (like her brother) expected to see some familiar faces on your team.

Yet you surprised her (in a good way, very much unlike her brother) with Ogerpon, and she smiles and asks if she missed her, with the legendary responding with a small hop and a happy trill....

Followed by a devastating Ivy Cudgel that lands a critical hit on her Pokémon.

Yeah, she can definitely tell you've been training the Ogre a lot, but she's proud of how confident she's grown nevertheless.

Seeing you have both Chien-Pao and another Koraidon working in tandem is impressive, especially with that Ruination + Swords Dance + Scale Shot combo you pulled.

BM Ursaluna and Shiny Slither Wing are the only two that genuinely shock Carmine, as she's only seen one in myths and the other....she's never seen in her entire life.

But after the trip to Area Zero, she understands Slither Wings better (although she's amazed you managed to find a shiny down there).

Either way, those two are powerhouses.

She remembered you talking about a little lonely Charcadet you found during an outbreak, and to see it has grown up into a mighty Armarouge was such a sweet thing to see.

You clearly took the time to plan out your team before coming to the Blueberry Academy.

Carmine found your battle to be fun.

Although she can't exactly say Kieran will feel the same way..considering Ogerpon is with you and you have some new tricks up your sleeve.

But she figured he oughta find that out for himself.

#hope you dont mind my interpretation of your team and their movesets ^^;#clanask #chair egg anon #pokemon x reader #pokemon sv x reader #pokemon scarlet x reader #pokemon kieran #pokemon carmine #headcanons #ogerpon #bloodmoon ursaluna #armarouge #chien pao #koraidon #slither wing

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livi-in-digital-circus · 3 months ago

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The Abuse || a short Bunnydoll angsty story

I wrote this only because I'm having worse days now (also I started writing the new fic but I'm already stuck at the beginning of TwT)

TW: abuse

Through the glass wall of the infirmary, Ragatha stared at the guests of the Digital Circus. Once in a while, people from the real world had the chance to meet their favorite characters in person, not knowing that they were actually normal humans just like them. It was unfair that they could go home the moment their visit ended. But that was what the circus was all about. Every single member of the crew was an animal trapped in a cage, released only to perform silly and often dangerous acts.

And since Caine was especially busy when they had visitors, Ragatha couldn’t ask him to help her get back to her pristine self. Instead, she had to spend the entire day under the care of a nurse-like NPC who stuffed her with more pills, like painkillers, hour after hour. Even though the rag doll didn’t seem to have any bones in her plush body, she felt like her bruised arm was broken. Not to mention that she had vomited at least three times that day and felt dizzy all the time.

It was a pure torture.

The girls in the main area were loud enough for Ragatha to hear what they were saying, so she leaned carefully against the wall. Due to her current state, she wasn’t allowed to greet the visitors. After all, Caine had to keep the reputation of the circus at its best, and if anyone found out there was a serious case of abuse going on behind the scenes, he would lose everything he had worked on for years.

“Did you see the way he looked at me? I’m definitely his type!” One of the girls exclaimed. Her digital avatar resembled a cute Lolita-style doll, making her look like an innocent angel. Another one, Ragatha thought.

“It’s a good thing we didn’t mention our shrines full of his limited merch.” The other said, her cat ears and tail moving on their own from time to time. “But then again, who wouldn’t want lots of Jax for themselves?”

Ragatha trembled. These two clearly had no idea who they were talking about. Judging by their behavior and appearance, they were mostly underage and delusional. The rag doll looked at her arm again. She should be jealous, it was her boyfriend who was the center of attention that day.

Instead, she felt anger, especially when she heard the girls mention all the things they wanted Jax to do to them. Ragatha smiled bitterly to herself, the familiar metallic taste tickling her tongue. She had lived too long in the circus to understand today’s teenagers. Some of them were born into rich families and had everything they could wish for. It could be anything, like an expensive dress worn by many famous models, or a bottle of sweet-smelling limited edition perfume. And yet they chose to be used by none other than Jax.

Little do they know that he is a real abuser.

And abuse is not something you should wish for.

Year after year, the rabbit became more mentally unstable. Several times he promised Ragatha that he would change, that he would try to be a better boyfriend. She was very proud of Jax when he managed to go a whole week without hurting her. But when she was about to visit him in his room after one of their adventures to watch a movie, she found him torturing the little version of herself that she had made for him to hug when he felt alone.

Caine had no idea how to fix Jax. His first assumption was that he would soon abstract, but Ragatha quickly shook her head. That had been going on for a long time, with no clear signs of improvement. However, she didn’t feel any hatred for Jax, even though she was sore and bruised the last few days. She knew it was because of his poor mental health and that inside he was still the bunny she had fallen in love with.

The girls disappeared from her view after a while. Ragatha groaned as she made her way back to bed. All she wanted was to fall asleep and wake up the next day. The moment her head touched the pillow, she heard someone enter the infirmary.

“Feeling better?” Jax sat on the edge of the bed, his gloved hand gently stroking the bandage on the rag doll’s cheek. Ragatha shivered, yet her lover’s soothing touch was all she needed at the moment.

“Still a little sore, but it’s okay. Did you enjoy the meeting with the viewers?”

“Not really, this group was annoying as hell.”

“I don’t like what those girls said about you.” Though Ragatha didn’t want to tell him exactly what. She knew Jax felt bad after each time he lost control and hurt her, and she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable now that he was temporarily sane again.

Jax let out a soft laugh and pressed his lips to Ragatha’s forehead. God, she loved his kisses so much.

“I actually brought you something to drink. You must be thirsty after I… you know.”

Ragatha gladly accepted the water bottle and began to pour the liquid into her mouth. But just as she was about to stop, she felt Jax’s hands suddenly tighten around her neck, causing her to cough and choke. The taste of water and blood mixed sickeningly in her mouth.

Jax knew it was only a matter of time before she started vomiting all over the circus from the ‘water’ he gave her.

Everyone told Ragatha to break up with Jax, but she was too kindhearted to do that. He was mentally ill and she wanted to help him. She hoped that one day everything would be okay, that her boyfriend would overcome this.

And before that happens, she would be tortured in many more different ways for the next few weeks, months, or maybe even years.

Still, Ragatha would manage to survive all this. It was impossible to die in Digital Circus after all.

Thanks for reading!

(I'm sorry, please don't be mad at me for writing this ;-;)

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc jax #tadc ragatha #jax #ragatha #jax x ragatha #bunnydoll #fanfiction #oneshot

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btsmosphere · 8 months ago

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Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 11: Right Beside You

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🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: Jungkook has you to thank, if only he knew how.

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 5.7k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, swearing, past trauma (mentioned assault and torture), mentioned homelessness

a/n: the found family is strong with this one😌🥰 hi everyone, thank you for joining me for this next part of the journey! sorry for being super offline this week, it's been an exhausting one and I'm still a bit mentally checked out as I write this note, but all of the positive comments have been lovely to see🥰special note for the anon who wanted a sneak peek, I just couldn't find a good spot to post for this chapter and didn't have the energy to comb through for one either. I'll consider for future parts when I have more time to do so, but in the meantime I would love just to hear what you enjoyed so far💞enjoy the chapter!

Jungkook didn’t speak to you about that night. Barely even looked your way the next morning when you slunk in to have breakfast.

It was entirely unfair that he was there bright and early, looking completely put-together in that handsome way he always did – or maybe it was one of the perks of having a face like his. A lucky side effect of his stubbornly ignoring you was that he didn’t seem to notice, certainly not acknowledge, your envious staring at him, before you were able to catch yourself and rid your mind of these thoughts.

You, however, had only gone back upstairs when you felt your eyes drooping again, long after Jungkook had disappeared. Even then, it was to fitful sleep. All the midnight epiphanies in the world weren’t about to make you forget your guilt over Hoseok.

So now, it was safe to say you were tired.

Hunching over a plate, you said little, but at least tried to smile at Hope, who caught your gaze. Yoongi eyed between the two of you, and you shrank again, unable to stand the thought he was also wary of you. Maybe Jungkook was just the most open about it.

You wondered over your toast whether Jungkook had a similar reason for being awake last night. Whether he knew yours.

Did he realise that you had been up because of your guilt-ridden nightmares? Would that make him feel better, to know you were being punished for your actions by your own psyche?

You hadn’t thought to question his own presence in the training room at night until now, though. Not that it was a particularly pleasant train of thought. Did he have nightmares of his own? Worse still, were they the same as yours? Had your near miss caused him the same fear it had you, enough to invade his sleep?

At the end of the table, Jungkook spoke in a low voice to Jin. There was no chance for you to guess what they were talking about.

Yet you were still watching. You couldn’t look away, almost wondering if you could see inside his head if you looked hard enough. Puzzle him out.

A scraping sound and movement beneath your hand jerked your attention away.

Your eyes darted to your plate – or where it had been. They followed as it dragged itself swiftly across the table, stopping in front of a clasped pair of hands. And Jimin’s eyes, intent on you under raised brows, made you shift.

“Well, if you’re not going to eat it,” he smiled innocently.

With a pout, you made a swipe for the toast you had abandoned on your plate in your (rather long) moment of distraction. The plate, of course, swiftly darted away from your reach, then switched directions.

Huffing, you gave up, slouching back sulkily in your chair while Jimin laughed.

Another hand reached over to slide your breakfast back to you, this time met with no protest. Jimin was still laughing, glittering pink dying in his eyes, and you smiled gratefully to V, your food restorer.

Lesson learned, you did keep your attention to yourself this time as you finished without looking back up.

As such, you missed the sharp eyes that had finally turned towards you.

At a loss, and not keen as usual to head to training, you followed Jimin and V over to the couch and sunk into it after breakfast, ready to waste away some of the morning. The other two kept muttering between themselves, but you were happy to let them go on unbothered.

A weight dipping the cushion beside you made your head turn in surprise.

Hope flopped against the back of the sofa, looking up at you with a smile.

“Did I ever tell you how I got my powers?” he said, tone casual.

Meanwhile, you tried not to widen your eyes. While all the boys, for obvious reasons, knew about the cause of your powers’ arrival, you weren’t sure about theirs. It wasn’t something you could just… ask.

Or so you thought.

It had been one of the worst nights of your life, so you imagined it was similar for them. Why should they want to share that with someone they didn’t trust?

Maybe Hobi did trust you, though. Because when you shook your head, he shifted his elbows onto the back of the sofa, leaning forward to confide in you.

“I was a student,” he began the tale, “training for stunt work on the side. I had to work this shitty all-night convenience store to afford it… not exactly in the safest end of town.”

You could only imagine it all too well. You realised Jimin and V had stopped their chatter, lapsing into silent attention to the story, although they must know it already.

“One night, some random guy tried to rob the place. When he started attacking a customer, I vaulted the cash desk to stop him. He beat the shit out of me. Had a crowbar and everything. But then, when I was on the floor – couldn’t move anymore, not even stand – it’s like I suddenly woke up. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

Watching his face carefully, you found no words. It was clear the experience had been terrifying, his expression clouding for a moment as he told you the worst of it. You had never seen him look so serious.

He shook himself lightly, meeting your eyes again, and the normally permanent smile returned to his face.

“Suddenly I got the energy to fight back. Since then, I’ve moved faster, been stronger, than I ever was before. It turned a few heads on the stunt team, which is how Namjoon got wind of me.”

“Wow, that’s… scary,” you settled for, though it didn’t do his story justice.

“Yeah,” he nodded, before turning fully to you, a look fixing you in place. “Nothing compared with a slip in training.”

You wilted at the painful reminder which blindsided you. So that’s what this was about?

Hope clapped you on the shoulder.

“I still trust you, yeah? That’s not up to Jungkook.”

Nodding, you finally managed a weak smile of your own.

“Thanks.”

Not knowing how to settle back into the sofa, you shifted and spied V whispering something to Jimin. Jimin shifted back to look him in the face, brow tilting in question. V nodded.

Then Jimin spun to you.

“Tae also wants me to tell you… how he got his powers.”

Your eyebrows shot up.

“Really,” you shifted your gaze to V, “don’t feel you have to. It must be tough-”

“It may be hard to talk about, but you should hear it,” Jimin assured you, “we want you to know.”

Your heart softened at this double show of trust. Giving a nod, you watched Jimin take a bracing breath.

“I was the one who found him,” he began, “Namjoon sent me. He heard about the place, wanted to investigate… it was a testing centre. They were keeping him there like a prisoner, seeing what stuff they could inject until he…”

Jimin choked off the sentence. You didn’t want to hear the end of it.

Jimin’s eyes were wide and betrayed such dazzling emotion you could hardly look. It was no wonder he was such a fierce protector of V, that they loved each other so strongly.

“In the end, they gave him fire. We’re not even sure if they meant to, if they knew what they were doing. But they were using him, and I had to get him out of there.”

Letting silence stretch for a moment, you waited until it was clear he wasn’t going on.

“Good,” you spoke quietly. Shifting your eyes to V, you found him looking at you calmly, though the darkness in his eyes was heavier than normal. “I’m glad you made it here.”

Jimin squeezed his hand.

Though you tried to swallow it down, you couldn’t help your next question. You wouldn’t ask what happened to Hope’s would-be killer, but this…

“What happened to the lab?” you whispered.

V’s gaze remained unblinking.

“Burned,” he said, in that rare, low voice.

Not leaving his gaze, you only nodded.

You may have been accepted by your friends. Their trust bolstered you, it did, only… Something didn’t sit right while you were still so perplexed at your precarious footing with Jungkook.

When he did show up, Jungkook seemed oddly distracted all morning. Weirdest of all was that his mood didn’t drive him away to the gym like usual. He sat at the end of the sofa until Yoongi arrived, fishing controllers from the dreaded Drawer of Cables. Playing a few rounds of video games was fun, but you still found yourself glancing a little too often at the detached Jungkook. When a controller got passed to him, he nearly won without breaking into a sweat, only to apparently zone out and fall off the map near the end.

The others laughed at him and yelled their own victories, the two of you the only ones not joining in. At least you cracked a grin, but Jungkook seemed to have drifted.

Maybe, with the others knowing him better than you did, their lack of notice was a good sign. Surely you couldn’t be the only one caught so off-guard by his silence? Or maybe it was because of last night. None of the others had heard your odd midnight conversation.

With Jungkook acting this way, you had wondered how training would play out. If he would even show. You wouldn’t blame him after yesterday with Hobi, and… whatever that had been last night.

No, you wouldn’t blame him, but strangely you found yourself hoping for the opposite in any case. Some sign from him about what last night meant… or at least that you should forget about it.

In the event, your wondering was never answered.

Namjoon marching into the room wasn’t what any of you had expected. Usually, that meant business. And today was no exception.

“Are you guys ready to head out?”

Which meant that if you weren’t, now was the time to prepare. All you needed to do was grab shoes, and then you were following Jin as he grabbed keys and headed down the front stairs to the garage.

Behind you, Hobi was desperately searching for a second shoe, only having found one in his room. Yoongi had been begrudgingly roped into helping, and his sighs filled the air at regular intervals as he found yet another spot empty.

Jimin was hopping around as he tried to run to the door before tying his laces.

Namjoon walked through the sudden chaos, unfazed, raising his voice slightly.

“Bosun’s just had to flee his place at the edge of town. Says there are people inside already. So we’d better move.”

The garage door slid open as you reached it. Jungkook was already waiting. He had been the first one to his feet when Namjoon entered with a battle plan, and you got it. Some good action would force unwanted distractions from your mind like nothing else.

He pushed away from the wall, squaring his shoulders as he stepped towards the waiting cars. And stumbled.

You bit down on your lip, but it was as if he could sense your instinctive laughter. Yours were the first place his eyes glowered as he recovered balance.

Ducking your eyes, they landed on a sneaker strewn on the ground.

“Oi, Hobi!” you called, launching his missing sneaker up the stairs past Namjoon, who was now descending.

“Thanks!” came his call, and then he was beside you in an instant, yellow light flashing in his eyes.

“Hey, only one of us has speed powers!” Yoongi complained, jogging down the stairs last.

Namjoon’s eyes flickered over the lot of you and then you were piling into cars. Jimin tugged you after him and V into Jin’s car, while the others took the neighbouring one.

With the unexpected attack already apparently underway, Jin cut all the corners he could as you sped across the city. You remembered seeing Bosun’s name in one of the various files Jin was sifting through as he and Namjoon desperately tried to strategise their way out of this game already in motion. Clearly, his wasn’t one of their top places of concern as he hadn’t been relocated yet.

You were beginning to see why. The streets you passed grew less and less maintained, cracks, weeds and broken signs whizzing past your window. This was more similar to the end of town you used to live in, before Bolt. And you would assume it to be way off his radar.

Apparently not.

Jin pulled up in some alley beside an unassuming and leaky-looking warehouse. Fumbling to open the glove box, he passed you each a small receiver along with instructions.

“Jimin, V, take that side. The back entrance is around there. With any luck they aren’t expecting us, but be ready for anything. Y/N, go the other way, check it’s clear. Then head to the front where you’ll meet the others.”

Nodding hastily, you all scrammed from the car. Jimin patted your shoulder and flashed you a grin – a nod from V and they were sprinting away to the left. You peeled off right instead, focus setting in the moment your feet were in motion.

Rounding a corner, you were faced with a near-identical alley, narrow and shadowy with puddles nestled in cracks in the concrete.

Eyes scanning, you first checked the windows in the long expanse of wall. There were few, high up and tiny. From here, you could see no one looking back out at you. Hopefully that meant the surprise factor was still on your side.

It was when your eyes returned to the street in front of you that your steps faltered. Closer now, a figure became clear in the shadows that you hadn’t made out before.

Slowing, you squinted at them, hands already twitching. But they hadn’t made any move, although they had clearly seen you. Crouched against the wall, they looked directly your way as you approached hesitantly. Maybe they just didn’t know who you were? But if they were guarding this place, surely any passerby could be classed as a threat?

So why weren’t they attacking?

You stopped fully, now only paces from them. You saw it was a young man, maybe even a teenager. His eyes were large as they looked at you from below unkempt hair, and while they had a hard edge of practised hostility, all you read there was wariness and fear.

Hands retreating under fraying sleeves, he shifted uncomfortably the longer you stood in front of him. Worn-out shoes with a hole in the side shifted near to a puddle.

Frowning, your eyes caught sight of a bag he was sheltering with his body.

Breath slowed uncomfortably in your throat as it dawned on you. He wasn’t with the people attacking the warehouse – he probably had no idea anything was even going on in the building behind the two of you.

“You should get out of here,” you met his eyes again.

He didn’t need telling twice. Since you had showed interest in him, his discomfort had been clear, and he finally shot to his feet, still clinging to the overstuffed backpack behind him.

Then your eyes were torn from his nervous ones by a blast from the end of the alley.

Whipping around, you were briefly dazzled by a burst of gold light. Inexplicably, it put you at ease – or the knowledge of who was behind it did.

What had you instantly back on edge were the two silhouetted figures that now ran across the entrance to the alleyway. The sight of weapons clutched to their chests had your fingers flexing, feeling your powers simmer defensively.

It had begun.

A second after the armed people emerged, one of them was sent to the floor by a human-sized bullet – Hope. Their gun skidded away, landing in a shallow puddle with a splash.

Starting forwards intently to aid your team, you spared one last glance back at the boy you had found in the alley.

Those same fearful eyes were now fixed past you at the violence unfolding as it spilled from the warehouse entrance. Rigid, he seemed frozen to the spot.

“Go!” you barked, “I mean it!”

And then you were running. If he had any sense, the kid would get moving.

Another sharp blade of gold light descended, nearly knocking over the remaining assailant ahead of you, but they ducked and staggered on, the blast clashing with the neighbouring wall. Tracing the source of the attack, you spied Jungkook’s vantage point on the roof, his head visible though only a brief blur as he raced after his target.

Fixing your eyes front, you charged head-on at the fleeing man.

And he spotted you too.

Whatever weapon you were facing now, you didn’t fancy finding out. He was aiming it, giving you a clear view down the barrel.

Your step never once faltered. You didn’t need to reach for a weapon.

You were one.

Blue fired from your fingertips before his could move on the trigger. It caught him, flinging him backwards, flipping before slamming against the ground.

Still hot-footing it to the heat of the action, you glanced to Jungkook, smirk already lifting your lips, ready to share the momentary victory.

But he hadn’t changed direction. Instead, he was flying towards you, descending from the rooftop on a pillar of gold, and his other arm was aiming behind you-

Turning, you caught sight of the fleeing boy, almost out of sight now.

Your heart dropped in slow motion, but your body acted without waiting for permission.

Well-aimed gold streaked down the alley. Hand raising, you threw an arrow of blue to meet it. Lightning collided in the air, your shot throwing his off, a missile of sparking blue and gold smashing against the warehouse.

Outrage painting his face, Jungkook hit the ground, already dashing towards you and the boy. Readied his arm again…

“Jungkook!” you cried.

Not stepping out of his path, the two of you practically crashed into each other. Your hand caught his shoulder, restraining him as you twisted to look behind you.

The boy was on the ground, metres from the impact. As you watched, he scrambled to his feet, hoisted his backpack over a shoulder and ran, finally disappearing into another street.

“He’s not with them,” you panted, “…he’s just a kid.”

Turning back to Jungkook, you expected rage, frustration… but not this. His eyes were fixed on the spot the boy had fled from. As his eyes tracked, slowly, back to your face, he inhaled softly. Held it. Slack-jawed horror washed over him.

Struck by the force of emotion surfacing so suddenly in his eyes, you lightened your grip and took a step back.

A heavy frown pressed on Jungkook's brows, gaze once again growing distant, drifting to the alley behind you.

“I didn’t think…” he mumbled, but his lips stilled again, parted in horror.

“You’re not supposed to expect it,” you whispered.

Eyes fixed on Jungkook’s intently, you caught the sharp flicker as they returned to you. Lucidity flooded back to him and his throat bobbed in a hard swallow.

As he looked at you, his frown eased imperceptibly, realisation widening his eyes instead.

“He would be dead.” Jungkook’s voice was brittle.

Your heart was only now slowing in your chest, the shock of adrenaline subsiding. All it took was another blow from somewhere behind the pair of you, ringing out through the confined space, to pull you away from Jungkook.

His head turned; you stepped to see around him. Dropping your arm fully at last, you broke into a sprint once more, knowing even before you heard his steps that Jungkook would be right beside you.

You eyed the warehouse and alleyway disappearing in the rear-view mirror. Soon they were eaten up by the maze of roads taking you back into the city that was none the wiser.

There hadn’t been many more attackers. No one of note, only bolstered by weapons of Bolt’s previous acquisition. In the end, the group of you had driven them out with relative ease.

Which was good. Bosun had shaken hands with Namjoon outside in relief as he found his work still intact.

But you wondered if you were the only one nagged by another win without sight of the orchestrator. Bolt seemed to follow you everywhere, without ever showing his face. You took your eyes from the cars around you to a news stand as you drove past. Blue splashed over the front cover, Bolt took his place in the glorious spotlight, right where he wanted.

Did the readers know what he had working behind the scenes?

The weapons these fighters were decked out with, you knew them. But you also knew Kuyang had never made so many of them as you were now encountering on each shout.

“Do you think Namjoon-hyung will mind if we skip training?” Jimin was nudging V with that playfully devilish grin of his, “we basically had a workout already!”

Glancing at the rear-view, you saw Jin raise a brow and shared a private smile with yourself. You didn’t think Namjoon was the one Jimin should be worrying about.

Then you sat up.

“Hey, Jin?” you spoke.

He hummed, glancing to you in the mirror, but your eyes had caught something else.

“The same car is still behind us.”

Jin’s hands tightened on the wheel and he shot a look to follow yours.

“You’re sure?”

He braked a little too sharply as a car pulled from a turning ahead of you.

“I’m sure. Not that red one, the black one behind it, do you see?”

Narrowed eyes scanning the mirror, he nodded.

“Since when?”

“A good few roads. Since the lights.”

Jimin had gone quiet, all three of you now watching Jin closely for an answer as he pursed his lips. Though you sincerely hoped it was simply a harmless coincidence, you had left the busiest roads and were nearing home. Best not to take chances.

“Let’s see what they’re about,” Jin said, voice low and calculated.

A challenge.

A turning approached, so he indicated and slipped into the right-turn lane. Tentatively, you turned your head, enough to eye the black car. It carried on behind the red one and you relaxed – for a moment.

Then, just before you were obscured by the corner, it, too, switched lanes.

Your car took a collective breath in.

Jin tilted his head.

“Interesting.”

Chewing your cheek, you glanced sideways. The same nerves were reflected back in Jimin and V’s eyes.

“Jimin, can you text Namjoon that we have a potential tail?” Jin asked, tone suddenly lighter, “might be late. And in the meantime-”

He turned again, taking you down a much smaller road. The opposite direction to your original destination.

Driving straight on, he waited until the black car showed itself behind you. There was almost no doubt in your mind now.

“Joon says he’ll see us back home,” Jimin said, lifting his phone up surreptitiously to snap some images of your stalker, “and that they’re all clear. Although maybe whoever’s following them is just more subtle about it.”

Jin chuckled with him, but it was brief.

“Well, without Y/N spotting it, I’m not sure I would be much the wiser,” he mused.

Another glance in the mirror, and the black vehicle was indicating, pulling between parked cars. Didn’t tuck itself all the way in, with what could be an effort to keep a view clear of your car heading further down the road.

“Oh, were heading this way after all, hm?” Jin asked dryly.

Looking back to the road with determination, he took a right. Not long after, another right, where he swung around and stopped, facing out onto the road you had just left.

It didn’t even take that long. Your lungs hadn’t even started straining from the breath you held.

The car drove in front of you.

Jimin was ready, taking another picture as the driver passed, but there was no double-take or visible glance your way. They had a hood up, mask and dark glasses on.

The car carried on, but this game wasn’t going to last. As Jin pulled out, they were already slowing down, turning onto the road parallel to yours.

A burst of speed had you pressed back in the seat.

“Jimin, can you stop this guy? I’ve seen about enough.”

Jimin hummed a casual agreement, but you saw the smirk that grew on his lips, the glint in his eyes before pink light bled into them.

Sure enough, at the next intersection, the black car was right there. Jimin held a hand up, splayed his fingers, and that was all it took. Your stalker hit an invisible wall. The tyres froze, car stuck fast on the road it had been speeding down.

Jin put his foot down.

Several turns and roads later, with no more signs of the same vehicle, or of any repeat followers, he finally turned on himself, resuming your intended route at last. Didn’t stop you all keeping lookout, even as you waited for the hidden wall to slip aside and let you home. Especially then.

It was a relief to spill up the stairs to the scents of cooking – tteokbokki, if you weren’t mistaken.

The second lot of relief came when you saw Yoongi was the one behind the stove. Bound to be a solid meal, trusting him.

While the group noticed your return, Hobi jumping to his feet and Namjoon striding forwards, checking on all of you, you paused on the top step. Just cast your eyes around, for a second. Sometimes these moments would hit you from nowhere. Some outdated part of you expecting to have to cook for yourself after getting back from an already exhausting day, only to find your team making things easier.

In the small ways, just as much as the big, your life had changed. In the small ways, it was definitely for the better.

Letting a fond, awed smile slip onto your face for a second, you breathed in.

Jimin’s laugh met your ears, and you turned back to the moment. He clapped a chuckling Jungkook on the shoulder, giving a playful shove before he moved on towards the table. You moved to follow, only to find Jungkook hadn’t budged.

Residual smile still on his face, eyes wide and cheerful, his gaze rested on you. There was a slight hesitation, his smile growing fainter, nervous as he appeared to stall in front of you.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. It would almost be conversational; if only you had had a casual conversation with the guy, you would know. “Glad you’re all back safe.”

At your stunned stare, he squeezed a hurried smile back in place, and fled to Yoongi’s side in the kitchen. Your mouth hung open, eyes following Jungkook’s back even as Jin marched past.

“Yah, trust me to take care of the kitchen hyung,” Yoongi complained to the back of Jin’s head as he bent to sample a spoonful of sauce.

“I’m just taste-testing,” Jin defended a second later with a cheeky grin on his face.

Yoongi didn’t bat an eye.

“Well if the inspector’s not happy, report me,” he harrumphed, “go sit down.”

Jin allowed himself to be shoved table-wards, self-satisfied smile permanently on his face.

Still hovering beside Yoongi, Jungkook finally looked back at you. It would have been subtle, too, if you had been able to tear your eyes from him yet. He gazed up from below his hair.

A small, startled expression flitted across his face – not so intimidating now, huh? – before your view was mercifully blocked by Namjoon.

“I heard you noticed the tail back there. Good spot.”

Smiling, you bobbed your head.

“Thanks,” you eyed the floor, “I don’t even know what made me look for it.”

“Whatever it was, I’m glad you did. It got us all back here. I’ll be working on finding out who they were, though, and what they were doing after us.”

Your eyes flicked back to his face, a flicker of unease shooting across your expression.

He sighed, his turn to drop his gaze this time.

“I’ll keep you all posted. For now, it’s done. And I believe dinner is in order.”

Stepping aside, he ushered you past, only somewhat assuaged. That hadn’t been some usual attack which you could put down all-guns-blazing. Someone following you… that was different. Someone playing a long game. And there was one person you could already think of who was running one of those.

In the time you had been speaking with Namjoon, Jin had somehow returned to the kitchen, though Yoongi was silent about it this time.

Yoongi passed dishes as Jin scooped food into them, Jungkook rooting through the cupboards for something too. Slipping into a seat, you watched them idly. Jin set the steaming plates on the side, which is when Jungkook leaned over to chop chives over the top. You sure were in for a luxurious meal. A decent reward, you thought.

Turning with the next plate, Jin paused. Didn’t set it down. He stared, frozen, at Jungkook.

Catching on a second later, the younger man looked up like a caught puppy. Even if he hadn’t been doing anything nefarious.

An amused smile stole over Jin’s face.

“Since when do you cook so fancy, Kook?” he grinned.

“F-fancy?” Jungkook blinked. “Isn’t this… how you make it?”

Jin shrugged, setting down the plate and turning to grab the one Yoongi proffered impatiently.

“Never thought to add them,” Jin mused, “looks nice though. Tell me, where did you pick up such cheffing tips?”

Jin was half-joking, still plating up, but something was dawning on the younger man.

Jungkook looked comically horrified, gaze darting between the green chives in one hand and the scissors in the other. He paused like that just a little too long to sound casual when he finally regained his voice to mutter:

“This is how Y/N likes it.”

Any hope of sounding nonchalant died as Jin’s eyes bulged from his face. Yoongi froze, eyebrows raising, before looking over his shoulder to you with a questioning smile.

Namjoon, mercifully, looked down to his lap with a private smile, but he was the only one. Hobi broke into a grin and Jimin spun to laugh openly at his younger brother, who looked thoroughly grumpy now. Jungkook’s mouth was fixed in a solid pout, his hard glare not helping in the slightest as the declarations of joyful surprise clearly got to him.

In the face of Yoongi’s now wiggling eyebrows, and a disconcertingly intense stare from V, you laughed weakly.

For a second, your eyes met with Jungkook’s. He snapped his gaze away an instant later, firmly hiding his flushed cheeks with his turned back, recommencing his chive-chopping rather more aggressively.

Jin clapped him on the back exaggeratedly, before scooping a dish up.

“I think this has the most,” he smirked, sliding it to rest right in front of you, “the Y/N speciality, made just for you.”

With a roll of your eyes and an exasperated laugh, you took the bowl.

“Yah, leave off! You brought this on yourself, you know. Why not teach Jungkook your way?”

“Wha-” Jin broke off, flicking a dish towel at Jungkook’s back, “how many times have I made tteokbokki with you, punk?��

Shoulders a little looser, Jungkook ducked out of the way.

“You mean made for me,” he defended.

Leaving Jin to splutter behind him, Jungkook marched over to the table with two more chive-topped bowls of food which he set down a little too hard, landing with loud clunks.

The others dutifully moved on to other things as the plates all reached the table and the lot of you dug in, grateful after an eventful day. When Jin made a comment about the added flavour of the dish, it was genuine and not a dig at their youngest.

Still, Jungkook picked quietly at his food. It may have been bold to claim he was avoiding your eye, as you couldn’t really remember a time he had sought it out, but though he was only a seat across from you, he didn’t once look at you. What was worse was that you couldn’t help but notice. Couldn’t stop your attention straying to him among the boys’ chatter which should have been distracting you.

At least he ate it all.

You made a point to collect his plate once you had all finished. Namjoon had already disappeared, Jimin gathering the rest of the dishes to wash.

Rounding the table, you lifted the empty dish from under his nose, making him look up.

“Thanks, Jungkook,” you said, before he could look away. You didn’t smile, just returned his startled gaze with your own steady one.

He had to know you weren’t laughing at him. Even if a sprinkling of chives was nothing to be embarrassed about in the first place.

Ducking his gaze after a long second, he followed the others to flop down on the sofa.

Watching with amusement, you had to force yourself to move too. You placed the dishes on the pile and distractedly grabbed a towel since Jimin had started washing. It was funny… Not long ago, you wouldn’t have thought the abrasive, menacing Jungkook you knew then could ever look like a deer in the headlights.

“What are you smiling about?”

An elbow from Jimin brought you abruptly from your reflections. Yelping, you swatted him away.

“Nothing,” you insisted, grabbing desperately for a dish to dry.

Your response only encouraged the teasing smile spreading across your companion’s mouth. You didn’t like the way his eyebrow quirked. He fixed you with a scarily knowing look that had you gulping.

Then he shrugged and turned back to the dishwater.

THE CHIIIIVES😂Thank you for reading! How are you enjoying them all getting along?💜

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