#i killed some guy the other day after he tried to challenge me

[almostfoxglove]

THE PRETTIEST

PART I: ANNOUNCEMENT

written for @quinnnfabrgay-writes & @hauntedhowlett-writes' #MONSTERSMASH24 challenge

RATING: Explicit (18+) | PAIRING: Max Phillips x f!Reader CREATURE: GHOST + MAX PHILLIPS WORD COUNT: 4.3k CW: Smut (piv), voyeurism/non-consensual voyeurism (he's invisible and reader doesn't know he's watching), Max is a bit of a creep okay he's doing his best here, protective!max, jealous!max, enough manager speak that I got tech startup flashbacks.

SUMMARY: After a restructuring at the company, Max finds himself dead—this time for good—and haunting his old duplex. Lucky for him, you move in.

read on ao3 | series masterlist | almostfoxglove masterlist

Of all the hell holes where one might waste eternity, Max is pretty sure his vacant duplex is the worst of them. Six rooms, two floors spined by a spiral staircase—all boring and hollow and dusty. Disgusting. How difficult would it have been to let him haunt the office? He could’ve leered over all those pathetic little office drones, driven them crazy forever. Fucked with their desk chairs, their hard drives, mixed up all their coffee mugs. Not that Max has mastered the art of affecting the material world yet, but he will.

Petty? Sure. But you can’t blame a guy for feeling a little owed after all management’s little reorganization. His relocation to the goddamn fucking afterlife—and to this prison of an apartment where there’s no one to subjugate or fuck, no less. 

What a waste of his potential. His talents.

Who knows how long he spends stuck alone in this place until someone shows up, but eventually people do. The real estate agent—Doreen and her little beehive hairdo, her eyebrows always penciled on too thin—and, over what Max estimates to be about three weeks, a parade of nobodies she tours around, preaching godless, truthless sermons of the duplex’s good bones and the good life they could have in these dreary fucking rooms. He’d be proud of her sales pitch if he weren’t so goddamn pissed.

He tries, he really does. Yells often, I’m right here, Dor-een, honey, right fucking here! And waves his arms in front of her face, but he can scream as loud as he likes; nobody hears a thing. 

For the first time in his many lives, people walk straight through him. 

There might be, possibly, some karma in that. 

Max doesn’t care for it.

It’s misery until the day Doreen brings him you.

Come on, Max whines, slouching lazily on your couch. Curled up with your bedsheets cloaked over your head, you rot on the cushions beside him, four hours deep in a Desperate Housewives marathon, oblivious to his company: your usual Sunday routine.

As usual you don’t hear him, don’t see him either. Sitting right beside you, making no dents in the pillows, his glossy dress shoes kicked up on the coffee table. Still he finds himself complaining, one hand gesticulating wildly at the screen, You’re killing me, baby. It’s obviously the fucking neighbor! Guy’s got a box of death under his pool!

Meanwhile you just sit there, enthralled as Eva Longoria struts about in her tiny skirts and tiny shoes. Max tells himself the only reason he stays in the room when you watch this garbage is for her and all the other pretty housewives or to leer at what bits of you peek out from your duvet each time you reach for your tea on the coffee table—a wrist, your elbow, and when you knock over the popcorn bowl and slip the sheets from your head, the lovely hollow of your perfect neck. Truth is, if you were to quiz him, he’d be able to cite the plot of the whole season beat for beat.

Not that he’s enjoying this, this—this garbage. Never.

No fucking way. He’s just perceptive. Has an excellent memory.

Plus this is the one way he gets to be close to you. Such a pretty little thing, taunting him without ever knowing it. That sweet mouth, those clever eyes. Showering with the bathroom door sometimes cracked like you know he’s here and dying to peek through the veil of your jasmine-laced steam. Chewing the ends of your pencils while you sketch out some masterpiece on looseleaf that you never get around to painting.

Sitting on your couch, at your dining table, at the foot of your bed while you brush out your hair after a long day—it’s the closest Max gets to feeling like being stuck here might not be hell, just purgatory: always a breath away from the thing he’d like to touch, but at least he’s not simmering in battery acid or being flogged. He’s had his share of blood-bag roommates—brief fascinations that drained so quickly—but you? You’ve lived in Max’s apartment for three months and he’s no less drunk on you than he was the day Doreen toured you around. Can’t quite put his finger on why. Maybe it’s the longing, the forest fire that sears through his ice-box chest every time your eyes skim his face by accident, never lingering. 

What can he say? Max is a man, after all. Under all the blood and monster.

And you’re the prettiest creature he’s ever seen.

When the show cuts to commercial you mute the TV, immune to the serpent-tongued promises of liars like him. Lured by nothing, by nobody. Already slinking from your bedsheet cave, all bare legs and cute little ankles striding out of the room, leaving him with the ghost of you, the smell of your perfume kissed into the duvet.

What he wouldn’t give for the chance to sell himself to you. He’d charm you all the way to your perfect knees.

In a way, you and Max are the perfect couple. You’re free to do as you wish, and he’s free to watch you every second that you spend at home, miserable the moment you leave for work in those tight fucking pencil skirts. No better than a dog, he spends his vagrant hours of isolation alternating between puppy-eyed pouting and anxious pacing, tortured until your evening return. 

How did he ever live here alone? Alive or otherwise. He can’t remember now. There are too many rooms, too few sounds, too few breaths, too few footsteps. He misses you. Your bedhead and pajamas, your blanket nest in front of the TV, the cute way you answer the phone. 

Today, you don’t come home till eight fifteen—and Max has spent thirteen hours losing what’s left of his mind.

Baby, he sighs, rushing for the front room at the first turn of the lock, a grin stretched to dimples in his cheeks. Seems even if you can’t hear him, Max can’t help talking to you, perhaps childlike in his belief that someday you will. Where the hell have you—

His sentence hacks itself in half, drops to silence, because you’re blushing when you come in, eyes shyly downcast, one hand shaking the rain loose from your hair, tendrils clinging to your cheeks. “Here,” you say, and for a beat Max thinks you’re speaking to him. His mouth drops, stunned. 

Is this it? Can you finally see him?

“Come in, come in,” you say.

Then a man steps in behind you, shuts the door behind his hulking form, and if there were any blood to speak of in his veins, Max is certain it’d boil at the sight of him. Tall and empty-headed, dopey as a dog, stomping his blocky, muddy shoes all over your hallway. Yours and Max’s. Getting goddamn filth on your hall carpet. Given just a few material cells, Max’d have this guy dead before he makes it to the living room, wouldn’t even bother drinking him. This breed of dumbass isn’t worth the mess.

But he’s useless. Less than a gnat. Sentenced to watch you trail this motherfucker who wouldn’t know Tom Ford from his Brioni into your kitchen, jackets shedding and small talk traded—boring, boring, boring, but you laugh when the guy makes a shitty joke about the weather. 

This guy, this nobody, gets to make you laugh while Max never even gets a chance to try.

On second thought, maybe this is hell after all.

“S’a nice place,” the dumbass says, laying his knockoff blazer over the back of a barstool. Cheap stitching. Terrible, too-thin lapels.

You look about the room as if standing in it for the first time and for a moment your eyes pass right over Max, whose long-dead heart winces. Yelps. If you could see him, there’s no way you’d entertain this guy. This nameless little worker bee. Max would make you laugh properly, how you laugh when something funny happens on TV or when you get a letter in the mail from your brother. Sudden and twinkling, often ending in a snort. Adorable.

Shrugging, you turn into your fridge and say, “Yeah, I like it,” and exhume two slim cans of vodka seltzer to set on the kitchen island.

Thank you, Max says, his arms crossed over his chest.

The dumbass’ brows flicker up as he regards your offering. Idiot. What was he expecting from a girl like you, a PBR? These are delicious. Elegant. Calorie wise. Max understands. Max would drink that with a smile and a thank you. 

Or maybe he’d skip right to drinking you.

Sensing his hesitation, you crack your can and take a sip. “They’re not as bad as they look,” you say, a nervous chuckle bittering your lips as you watch your date open his can and bring it to his nose to sniff. “Sorry. I don’t have anything else.”

You can do so much better, baby, Max sighs. You’ve got better right here.

Against his will, the hours pass. The evening goes on. You and the dumbass only drink half a can each—him with a half-snarled lip and you with a self-conscious twinge—but somehow by nightfall he’s got you scooching your barstool closer to him, allowing his slimy hand to rest on your thigh. 

Max bristles. Seethes. Don’t do it, he pleads to you, unheard. He’s not gonna fuck you right, just look at him. Send this idiot home and watch TV with me. Do anything but this guy, baby, anything but him.

You bend in slow motion and it’s agonizing, the tilt of your head as you press your lips to his. The wet slurp of his mouth taking the second you meet. A terrible kiss, though you’re polite enough not to flinch. Breaking from the prod of his pink-slug tongue to offer your neck, his mouth immediately moving, and fuck baby, it’s like you’re trying to kill him all over again. Drive a stake straight through Max’s blackened heart by giving up what he longs to claim.

In an instant, anger births itself from the hollow of his chest. His hand shoots out in useless violence, swinging as if to strike a seltzer can from the countertop and knowing it won’t do a lick of good as ire devours him, igneous and fervid, searing hot as life in his icy hands.

The can jumps from the counter and clunks to the floor, its contents gluggluglug-ing across the tiles.

“The fuck?” Max hears the dumbass gasp as he leaps from his barstool, eyes bugged wide and child-like and weak. You freeze, lips pink and swollen, staring down at the emptying can. 

It’s a shame neither of you can see the way Max smiles. 

Now that’s what I’m talking about, he crows. Finally a little substance around here! 

This is good. No, it’s better than good. This is the rush after a promotion, after the deal that closes out the quarter over target. The look on every sad sack’s face knowing they lost and he won.

This is the bite that finally breaks skin.

Maddening, burgeoning, addictive.

He’s real again. A goddamn Beetlejuice for you, baby. He’s gonna scare this fucknut out of here and have you to himself. First was the can, next is you, and he’s gonna kiss you so much better than that. In celebration, Max kicks one foot to send the can soaring across the kitchen floor and watches his shoe pass right through it, aluminum undisturbed on the floor. No, he mutters, kicking again. No, fucking—come on, you worthless piece of shit—

Your nervous laugh is too far away to comfort him. Distant too is your voice saying, “My room’s this way,” and the shuffling of your footsteps as Max loses his shit on the seltzer can that now refuses to budge no matter the swell of his outrage. By the time he snaps from his incensed trance, your barstools are empty. He blinks, breathless with muscle memory—his lungs wheezing because they remember wheezing, not out of need.

Baby? he calls out.

But you reply. A murmur too lusty to be a giggle—Max’s body coils up at the sound, taut and needy, and carries him toward the sound. He forgets, briefly, who you’re with. Believes he’ll find you in your bedroom alone beneath the covers, hands fluttering as you bring yourself to the edge of release. How beautiful you’d be, gasping in pleasure. He might close his eyes and pretend it’s him drawing out your every breathy, needy sound.

You’ve left the bedroom door cracked, and though in death he’s no longer bound by silly things like permission, Max has since you moved in found himself in the habit of respecting closed doors. Walls are chalk outlines over which he’s free to step, but he doesn’t, not if you’ve closed the gate. He’s not a monster. Or not a total monster—whatever, semantics. Point is that he only spies on your showers if you’ve cracked the door. Indulges in the soft moments of you sleeping only when you’ve left him that sliver of room.

Like the room you’ve left him now: slender and tempting, this stripe of your bedroom wall. A Degas print in a copper frame, the wooden post at the foot of your bed. 

Your sweet voice cooing here, like this, and the creak of your mattress.

Something black and silty sinks in Max’s stomach when he steps inside. Not the rage from moments ago. Something darker, heavier. Jealousy. Half-sheeted by your duvet, the dumbass you’ve brought home rocks above you, his shirt gone, his beefcake arm blocking the view of your chest, and though you’re making all the right sounds it’s obvious this isn’t any good.

He’s not fucking you right.

Your hands clawing at his back are too stiff. Your yeses a beat too slow. As the idiot pants—thrusts choppy and graceless—Max watches your hand tap his shoulder blade as you breathe, “Flip over.”

“What?” bumbles the guy, his hips stalling. “Oh shit—fuck yeah. Okay.”

Another grunt, then he rolls off and Max gets a glimpse of you—your red bra lacy and see through, your nipples so pretty underneath. It just isn’t right, the awkwardness of this colossal douchebag as he settles on his back and you ruck back the covers to straddle him, not at all breathless, hardly even flushed, your hair all messy at the back from disappointing friction.

“Shit,” the guy gasps as you sink down on him, clamping those boorish hands onto your waist.

You don’t even whine, not even as you start to rock, though his breathing gallops beneath you. Guy looks two seconds from nutting while you look years away from anything even loosely resembling an orgasm—your rhythm changing often as you try and fail to find a pace that suits you. “Christ—oh my god, ” the guy groans.

Max sucks his front teeth, tongue soiled with venom.

“Touch me,” you sigh, bouncing now. The curtain of your hair shivering down your back. 

This guy fucks like he’s never touched a woman before. At your request his knuckles only pale, fingers pinching you tighter. That’s not what she means, Max growls. Touch her fucking clit, you pin-dicked imbecile. Can’t fucking please a woman, should be fucking ashamed—

His pointless ranting is cut short by a sudden moan as the guy lifts you off him in time to come all over his stomach, chest rapid in its heaving, upper lip snarled in pleasure he doesn’t have the goddamn decency to return to you. For a long moment you hover above him, waiting, but his head just slumps back against the pillow, satisfied. 

Done.

He’s actually done. Motherfucker.

When you crawl off him to sit back against your headboard—arms crossing over your stomach self-consciously—Max sees red. Sees fire. Sees the roiling magma at the center of the earth where someone oughta make this fucker take a nice hot bath. 

He’d do this right. He’d fuck you properly, have you coming apart at the seams, go down on you until you beg for his cock and edge himself for as long as it takes to have you screaming his name. Can’t you see that? Can’t you feel him here, right now? Can’t you feel how bad he wants you? Can’t you imagine how much better he’d be? How good he’d make you feel?

Letting out an airy chuckle, the brute wipes the back of his hand across his sweaty brow and pushes himself to his feet. Redresses with a goddamn smirk on his face—not one of cruelty, but it might as well be. He thinks this is a job well done. Time to go home. 

A peck to your lips, then he’s rattling on about calling you, seeing you again, maybe Thursday? Friday? While you just sit there, blinking up at him in disbelief. “Sure,” you say, dazed and not quite thinking. “I’ll call you.”

Yeah, she’s not calling you, Max snarls, following the guy out of the room. Watching as the jackass plucks his jacket from the back of your barstool, steps over the mess of seltzer without a thought to clean it up for you, and waltzes right out the door. Not a care in the goddamn world. 

Though he hears you get up shortly after to use the bathroom, you don’t emerge from your bedroom and Max doesn’t disturb you. He spends that time in the kitchen, grabbing and grabbing and grabbing at the dish towel hung over the handle on the oven door, trying to pull it off. 

For at least an hour, his hand glides through the towel as if it’s water, not a flutter or sway in the fabric. Not even a brush, a compromise. It just hangs there, indignant. Mocking him. Deaddeaddeaddeaddead. Maybe it’s the Senior Sales Manager in him, the apex predator at the top of the food chain—but Max can do this all night. He’s not backing down, not letting a stupid fucking towel get the better of him. That lazy curtain of terrycloth will disintegrate before he waves the white flag. 

Beyond the picture frame windows that stare out into the barren, colorless street, the sun has shied to navy blue, letting out the round-mouthed moon, and you have not emerged from your bedroom for hours. He wants to check on you, ask if you’re okay. Frankly, baby, he’s getting a little worried. On the next sweep of his hand, the towel gives up the ghost; Max pulls it from the oven handle, marveling at the toothy fabric. He’s holding it, really holding it, all on his own. 

Thank fuck he’s not haunting the office. If any of those bull-brained fucks saw him now, as he kneels on your kitchen floor, he’d have to die all over again. Somehow. The technicals aren’t important—what’s important is that no one’s here to see him on his fucking knees, mopping up the spilled drink. Something like joy burbles in his chest when he reaches for the can and seizes it, placing it safely on your counter. The floor dry and shining again, clean. 

Max folds the towel carefully and returns it to the rack. 

As if on cue, the bedroom door croaks down the hall and you emerge. A huge t-shirt slumps from your frame; you’ve tied your hair up, put your glasses back on. Dressed down for the last dregs of night, rubbing the back of your hand in one eye, tired. 

You look so, so tired.

I’d rub your shoulders, baby, Max sighs quietly and though you won’t hear him, it still—after three whole months—doesn’t feel any less right to hope.

He steps out of your way as you round the corner into the kitchen with a yawn, hands clasped behind his back, cheek dimpled and eyes alight. Just like he wanted, just like he hoped, your eyes fall immediately to the floor where the can is missing, the spill wiped. Lashes flickering—the towel dark at the hem on its handle, the empty can on the counter. Your brows pinch low over your nose, curious. 

Pretty good for a dead guy, Max grins.

How sweet, that lifting flinch at your mouth’s sharp, pink corner. The soft hm you make in reply. It’s not much, but this strange, fluttery feeling in the dark cavity one might wrongly call his heart? It doesn’t feel half bad. 

Not bad at all.

He’s getting better at it. Not great, but the projections look good. Give him a little time, he’ll have this whole place dancing. Put on a big show, announce himself properly. 

In the meantime he practices when you’re not looking. Small stuff—he opens cupboards. Shuts them. Hits start on the dryer when you forget to press it yourself. Some days he wastes reaching for things and coming up empty, but now again his luck sparkles. Things move. Bend to his will. Isn’t long until he can hold it for a while—gathering the matter to run the vacuum around, or reorganize your pantry. A tidy house makes a tidy mind, baby. No good living in a dump. You’re so busy, always cracking around like a ping pong ball, and hell, it’s not like Max can leave this place, get a little air in his idle lungs.

He likes being useful to you. Likes that tiny smirk on your lips when you find something fixed or organized for you, even though you likely chalk it up to having forgotten that you did it yourself. Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need the credit. Isn’t that strange? How often he smiles at you? How perfect he finds the taste of your name.

Winter has arrived like a secret—whispered about for weeks and then suddenly let loose on the world. You come home from work in the evenings with icing sugar hair. Usually unbothered, far as Max can tell, but today you stagger in flushed from the cold and dark in the eyes.

Shit, baby, Max says when he sees you. Bad day?

Sniffling, you drop your coat right there in the hall, let it puddle over your shoes, and stalk off on a mission, barreling into the kitchen. The fridge door rips open, casting blue-white light over your face, and you must feel a hell of a lot worse than you feel because you don’t even blink at the contents inside. All the shelves wiped clean, the bottles arranged with the labels facing out, those wilted, bad greens deposited in the compost. You just reach in for the half-drunk bottle of Riesling that to Max smelled mostly like juice and swipe off the lid.

You chug on your way to the couch, leaving the fridge door open behind you.

Max closes it when you’ve gone, the TV already switched on in the living room, the lilting strings of the Desperate Housewives theme song swimming through the air. When he turns the corner he finds you wrapped in the throw blanket he now knows the texture of—supple and velvet, weighted and warm—with the wine bottle nestled in your lap. 

A silver tear hangs on your cheek. 

Really bad day, whatever it was. 

He wants to ask. Wants to pull you into his arms and pet back your hair. Wants to lick that sadness from your skin. 

Maybe this isn’t the show he’s imagined. Not much of a reveal—but you look so small right now, alone on your couch. Wine splashing in its bottle as you bring it to your lips, not bothering to wipe that tear away. If Max had a heart that beat, it’d stutter as he watches you. Helpless isn’t something he cares to feel.

No time like the present. Max sighs, scrubs a hand down his face as he ticks his jaw to one side, and nods. Alright, baby, he relents. Hang on.

On his way to the bathroom he cracks all the knuckles on his left hand, rolls his neck, swings his shoulders. Stretches himself long and limber like he’s about to run—but this is it. Curtain’s coming up. Time to find out if one glimpse of him sends you sprinting for the hills. Though he casts no reflection, Max stands before the mirror hanging over the sink and straightens his tie, corrects his lapels. Old habits, but it never hurts to look good.

Hand waggling, then, over the tissue box on the counter. He slaps himself hard, sending a delicious ripple of pain across his cheek. Come on, he begs. Don’t play hard to get.

The box lifts.

Here he comes: tissue box in hand, stalking tall and proud down your hallway with his chin up, shoulders back. Gets the momentum rolling, doesn’t hesitate, just waltzes in.

Your head snaps in his direction, eyes round and brows rising. To you it must look like the tissues float through the air to your side. Max steps back with butterflies jittering in his bones. 

Don’t be scared, he pleads. It’s just me.

With your head cocked to one side you consider this, though you’ve not heard his voice. Probably for the best. Came out a little softer than he meant it to, a little needy, and that’s just not becoming of a man like him. He has a reputation to uphold, even now. 

After a long, bludgeoning pause you click your tongue, swiping one white tissue from the box to turn over in your hand. Deliberating. Then your face cracks, possessed by a slithering smirk. Your gaze flickering so close to him it’s almost as if you’ve looked him in the eye. 

Deep in his chest, Max feels a strange throb—his stirring heart—as you say out loud, 

“I knew someone was there.”

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[brights-place]

Hii! If it’s okay, could I please request some hcs of Leif from MID with a motherly s/o?

The reader doesn’t have to be female, I just think that he deserves a nurturing partner after all that childhood trauma

Lief X Motherly! Reader

Pairings: Leif X Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Some angsty shit, mentions of Murder, Cursing A/N: Dude I can't agree more that Lief deserves someone to nurture him LIKE OMLLLLLLLLL! this man when Rhys and him had the argument and leif said "your not the only one who tells me that" I was so shocked - Leif had like a really SHITTY PAST DUDE - You were Ava's neighbor so you wanted to greet her the day after her interview - So having you be there makes him so confused how could you handle him? how could you handle his personality - Leif is a bit feisty but also very bold when it comes to things and leif can be shown to be slightly challenging and quick to assume things such as him instantly assuming Ava your BFF was dead when she was found to be unconscious. - Leif was shown to be dangerous as shown by the many threats towards Ava's life... yet you showed cared for him? you wrapped up him whenever he got hurt and would scold him - He first got pissed at you and thought you were challenging him on his healing abilities - but you were showing him kindness which most daemos find weak - You took care of Ava properly and made sure she was fine and all the daemos men called you Ava's head Lady in Waiting  - You were there in the morning helped and fixed her place as you took care of her. Ava saw you as a mother figure yes she has her own parents but having you was nice - You cared for her and showed her motherly attention and when you tried to show the other daemos that care - Violent tendencies come to him so he pulls out his sickles and would try to charge at someone so you have to restrain him the most and he gets pissy

- When Leif came across you he was immediately struck by your warm and comforting presence. - When someone gets your attention he gets defensive and would try get your attention back onto him - he has abandonment issues so he likes to be by your side but he doesn't speak up about it at all for example Ava was explaining how to put on the clothes for the others - You know how he likes poking ava with you its even worse he pokes but sometimes likes to touch diffrent parts of your bodies randomly. You could be washing dishes and he would pop up behind you touching your waist an then try to scold him but he's always far away - Even as a healer he finds it annoying how you try to patch him up - He likes to sharpen his sickles and shows it off to you as you just make sure he is alright - He likes to talk about him being a ex-assassin and flezes it as you tell him how cruel it was as he just stares at you - Believe it or not Leif respects you more than anyone in this world aka earth I mean- have you seen yourself? but he says he doesn't respect anyone - The group saw you punch a guy who tried to touch you and ava inappropriately due to being drunk the guy passed out with a singular punch - You gained their respect but when leif tried to join in on punching the male you dragged his ass away - he started to like you after awhile and would flirtatiously threaten you as you scold him like always which he enjoys - He smirks alot and I mean alot but he enjoys staring at you when you do things - You asked him about his past and he was hesitant and you apologized and told him when he was ready he told you anyway as you frowned telling him that he didn't deserve that -  you soon pointed out to him that distracting himself from his trauma by focusing all of his energy into his work killing started to become recreational for him as it was the only mechanism that could relieve emotional pain. - he became so dependent on bloodshed to keep him mentally stable almost as if it were an addiction - Leif would look away and scoff and tries to tell you off as you deadpan at him with an look 'Bro I know' - You give him ideas on how to relax himself as you give him plants for him to take care of due to noticing when you brought a plant to give to Ava he wouldn't stop staring at it - So you give him these plants to look after and explain they need light and water - He flexes it and says it was 'special' cause he tried to repeat all the facts you say about them so he seems smart - so when he watched one die after a couple of days he freaks out and rushes to ava demanding her to summon you cause you weren't there due to you being at work - You got off work and explained to Leif that it died due to not being taken care of so he makes sure to ask if he's doing stuff correctly which makes you confused how he is so calm - He has a short patience and would go off at a moment not like Asch but still has a short temper - threatens Ava for him to hangout at your apartment whenever you try to leave as Ava panics as you tell Leif to stop - You tell him that your just next door and come by whenever and he starts becoming an annoying pest - Ava would drag Leif to your place as others complain as Ava tells them to shut up as Ava knocks on your door as you open the door with a tired look wearing a face mask and your Pajamas wearing duck slippers and baggy sweatpants and a white shirt with a goose holding a knife in its mouth with bubbly words 'Peace was never the option' above it as Leif smirked at you.

- A sigh past your lips as Ava left to go to bed and leif entereed your apartment as you motioned for him to sleep on your bed as you were heading to the couch - This mother fucker decided to pull you into the bed and tell you to just sleep here as you warn him if he breaks anything your gonna tell ava - You fell asleep drooling onto bed unaware the leif clinged onto you enjoying the warmth you shared - it was weird how someone as caring and nurturing as you were caring for a blood thirsty ex-assassin - In the moments that you both have interacted with each other Leif felt something that he hadn't in a long time... Comfort

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

[baronessvonglitter]

Forever’s Gonna Start Tonight

Max Phillips x gn!reader

Word count: 1.7K

Summary: When your vampire boyfriend Max Phillips agrees to turn you, you enjoy one last day as a mortal.

WARNINGS: Rated T, reader is gender neutral, established relationship, some kissing and fluff (as fluffy as Max can get), mentions of vampirism and ways a vampire can be hurt/injured, mentions of blood drinking, one mention of "intimacy" but is not detailed, no gore, mentions of eating food, reader wears a hoodie but is otherwise not described, use of hypnotism, mentions of being bitten, no use of y/n.

Author's Note: This work is for the jolabrew + withcheese fall challenge 🧡 I chose Max Phillips and apple picking 🍎

I'd kept this idea on the very, very back burner because honestly I love the mythology about vampires, and I wanted a soft!Max story, just to shake things up, and this fic challenge helped kickstart that idea into motion. There was absolutely zero information on our guy Max, so I just kind of messed with the lore and added some good ol' vampire myths just for fun 😊 Also, "Total Eclipse of the Heart" was meant to be a vampire love song, hence the title I used 🖤 (Side note: if you don't already squeeze lemon on your apple slices I highly suggest it. It keeps them from turning brown and gives them a little sour bite if you don't like them too sweet)

Thank you to @jolapeno and @goodwithcheese for hosting this lovely challenge!

divider by @strangergraphics👑

Honestly, you made your choice two seconds after Max told you he was a vampire. There were no two ways about it: if he was one, you wanted to be one too.

"Honey.. you need to think about this seriously. It's not some knee-jerk decision. We're talking about the rest of your life.. or afterlife.. unlife?.. that's at stake here."

"You'll outlive me one day," you reminded him. "I don't want that to happen." You snuggled against him, feeling how warm he was, though now that he'd revealed his secret, you started to feel the cold that seeped through his skin, was ever-present in the physiology that still made him a human male, but also something else.. some preternatural creature that was just under the surface. Hiding.. or suppressed.

"I try not to think about that. I haven't been undead that long," he admitted. "Can't we be happy with what we have now?"

It stung, but you tried not to take it too personally. Max was the type to say whatever thought flitted across his brain, be it snarky or sweet, though around others it typically tended towards the former.

From then on, once he knew you would keep his secret, once he put that trust in you that he didn't place in anyone else, you had so many (too many) questions to ask, and Max was as open as he could be regarding your curiosity. Yes, he could walk around in the daytime, but it was a necessity to slather himself in the highest grade SPF that he could only purchase online from a small business in Romania and cost ten times as much as you made in an hour at your job. And it explained why he always had a scent of coconuts beneath the layer of Tom Ford cologne he practically bathed in.

There were some things that could kill him, primarily a stake through the heart. Garlic and holy water made his eyes water and skin burn, temporarily subduing his powers, and you understood why he dissuaded you from eating Italian food when you started dating.

Speaking of the powers (and that was a huge point of curiosity for you), he had strength, speed, hypnosis (although he preferred the term 'powers of persuasion' -- ever the salesman, that one.) Drinking blood powered him, made him strong, and he managed to drink a little to get him through the day, only succumbing to his deeper cravings after hours.

It was this part he didn't want to talk about. He didn't like you thinking of him prowling after his prey, planning his attack, taking what he needed from unsuspecting victims. He'd drunk from you during moments of intimacy, the small, sweet sting of his fangs was something you'd come to like, but you knew it had to be different for those he hunted. You could paint your own picture of such a scenario-- you'd seen enough movies and read enough Anne Rice and Charlaine Harris to put the pieces together of how he had to survive in the shadows.

If anything, it only further endeared him to you.

But when you'd try to press the issue all he did was sidestep it.. at first. When you were persistent he was firm, telling you in no uncertain terms, "No."

"Do you not think I have what it takes?" you'd asked.

"Babe, I don't doubt your ability--"

"Do you just want to keep all your vampiric secrets to yourself?"

He'd sputtered out a laugh despite trying to keep a serious facade. "You're being ridiculous now."

"Then.." you'd used your puppy dog eyes on him, "you don't love me?"

He'd taken your face in his hands, his gaze insistent. "Don't say that. Ever. Okay?" He'd kissed your forehead, taking in the scent of you, just at your hairline.

You'd been patient, dropping hints until one day you'd stopped, a part of you giving up.

But Max didn't like seeing you unhappy.

"All right, all right," he'd relented one night, during a viewing of American Psycho while hanging out at your place. "If you really want me to turn you, I'll do it."

"Max, you will? Really?" you'd beamed with excitement.

"Yes, sweetheart. If you really want it, I'll do it for you."

You'd pounced on him, kissing him as he pulled you down on the sofa with him, the sounds of Patrick Bateman chasing his victim with a chainsaw playing in the background.

You decide on a date: mid-October, your favorite time of year when the leaves crackle underfoot, and there's the sweet odor of chimney smoke in the air. Max tells you you should spend the last day of your human life doing whatever you want to do, and though it's something small, though it probably ranks low on most people's list of priorities before they begin a new life as a vampire, you tell him you want to go apple picking.

A part of you is relieved that Max doesn't poke fun at you, which he usually does when you tell him you want to watch Dead Poets Society instead of The Wolf of Wall Street, or when you'd rather go on the Ferris wheel than the Zipper with him at the carnival.

You typically play it safe, and he respects your playing it safe with your last day as a mortal, because he loves you.

The apple orchard is an hour and a half away, and Max holds your hand over the center console during the entire drive, letting you choose the radio station, and you spot the small twitch of his eye when you turn up the volume on a Taylor Swift song. He keeps his thoughts to himself but his opinion is written plain on his face. Ever the peacemaker, you switch the radio to an oldies station, listening to Bonnie Tyler belting out "Total Eclipse of the Heart" and even though Max refuses to sing along with you, a smile curves the corners of his pretty mouth as he indulges in your joy.

Upon arrival you jump out before the car is even in park, and are greeted with the scent of the sweet and crisp fragrance of the orchard. The skies above are pale blue, tinged with gold from the late afternoon sun's delicate rays. Grey threatens in the corners of the firmament, and you recall checking your phone's weather app and seeing there would be rain that night. You've come on the right day.

Max grabs your hand as you join the others in line, some families with young kids, some couples, and when he's not expecting it you plant a soft kiss on his cheek. Not typically one for PDA, he one-ups you by taking you in his arms and practically bending you backward in a passionate display of romance, lips claiming yours. "My baby doesn't deserve to wait in line," he whispers, and with a devilish grin he pulls you to the front of the line where the cashier is taking payment.

"We don't need to pay," Max tells her, and from the look in the woman's eyes you can tell he's mesmerizing her with his powers.

"You don't need to pay," she repeats in a monotone, handing over a wicker basket for you to collect the apples.

Max smiles at her charmingly, pulling you along as you enter the apple orchard.

There's a chill in the air as you walk into the wide expanse of land, the green of the apple trees and the ruby fruit of their production providing the perfect backdrop for your date. You cross your arms over your hoodie just as Max puts his arm around you.

"I'll never get cold, just like you," you wonder aloud, thinking ahead to your immortal life.

"Right. One of the perks," he grins. He's wearing a dark grey nylon bomber jacket, hair perfectly coiffed, and even though other people are checking him out as you walk by, he only has eyes for you. "You'll never grow old, either. You'll still be hot. Like me," he grins.

"Which ones look good?" he asks, directing your view to the apples red and ripe, swelling with sweetness, their tangy aroma dancing in the air.

You look up and select a few, holding each one in the palm of your hand before twisting the stem off and placing it in the basket looped around your arm. Max watches you, in awe of your thought process, and the careful way in which you make your selections. When the basket gets too heavy he carries it for you.

"Are you going to eat all of these tonight?" he hides a smile.

"Don't underestimate me," you tell him. "I might just do that."

He envisions what your blood will taste like later, at the time of your turning: bitter with hints of spice and sweet, the flavor inhabiting every blood vessel, flooding into his mouth as he begins the process of forever changing you.

Soon the basket is brimming over with sweet, tart apples. Some of them fall out of the basket on the walk back to the car, leaving a scarlet dotted trail behind you.

At home, you gorge yourself on the crisp flesh of your fresh-picked apples in all your favorite forms: sliced plain with a drizzle of lemon juice, some dipped in caramel, others covered in crunchy red candy. Your lips are sticky and sweet when Max kisses you, savoring the warmth of your skin that, come tomorrow, will be colder, room temperature at best, but still soft, still delicious.

"Are you ready?" he asks, his eyes glinting, irises blown full black, like a shark detecting blood in the water around him. You're settled on the sofa, hands linked, fingers intertwined as your heart races. Max senses it and his tongue flicks out across his pink lips.

"Yes," you answer, and for a brief, sweet moment your life flashes before your eyes, a memoriam to all the things you held dear, the good and the awful, the trail of tiny moments, the heartbreaks you thought you'd never heal from, that ultimately led you to Max and the love you uncovered within him as you broke through his egotistical outer shell.

You kept his promise. He knows his trust is well-placed.

As you offer your neck, the last thing you see before you close your eyes is the Castlevania poster Max gave you for Christmas last year, hanging on the wall above the sofa.

Only the death matters now..

You hear the click of his fangs protracting. Soon you'll be just like him. You have no regrets.

"Thank you, Max," you whisper before you feel the hot sting of his bite on your tender throat. "Thank you for the best day of my life."

[sakuralovespossums]

JJK Teachers x Autistic Student Reader (Platonic)

Satoru Gojo 🩵

It’s obvious that jujutsu society still lives by old fashioned and bigoted ideals (ie. hating women and non-sorcerers) so it wouldn’t surprise me if they were also ableist.

As a result, it can be pretty challenging being a neurodivergent sorcerer student without options for accommodations or counseling, as if being a sorcerer student itself wasn’t hard enough.

Still, you tried your best to mask your autism and keep up with your peers the best you could.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Gojo though (the guy sees through everything, c’mon)

He would quickly take notice of your behavior and habits (stimming, disassociation, difficulty grasping social queues)

He suspects that you may be on the spectrum and looks into your student files to confirm. Once he’s proven right, he decides to do some research on it himself so that he can better understand and help you.

One day after class, Gojo calls you to stay for a minute so you guys can talk.

“Hey y/n! Mind if we chat for a bit? It’ll only be a minute!”

You feel nervous as you walk towards him, hoping you didn’t do anything wrong.

“Listen, I know we’re not exactly in the same boat, but I know what it’s like to mask around others all the time.” He says while pulling his eye mask.

He tells you he gets feeling different from everyone and having to put on a persona to make them like you.

“Just know that you don’t have to wear it around me. I’m your teacher and I wanna get to know the real y/n. Course, it’s up to you though. I’m not pushing.”

He then tells you that he’ll make the accommodations you need to help make your classroom experience less stressful.

And if any of those old geazers complain about it, they’ll have to take it to him.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until he hands you a napkin with your favorite character printed on it.

It’s a gift he got for you from his recent mission.

You happily accept it and wipe your tears away before embracing him in a tight hug. He returns the hug with one arm as he looks down at you with a genuine smile.

He’s glad he could reach out to you and make you feel safe around him.

Since then, Gojo takes more note of your autism and accommodates to it however he can.

You’d think he wouldn’t care with how……insensitive he can be, but he does acknowledge the impact mental health can have on people. He couldn’t be there for Suguru, but he’ll try to be there for you.

He asks you what kind of foods you like/don’t like before he leaves for his missions, so that he knows what kind of snacks to bring back for you.

Makes sure you understand the instructions and materials in class. He’ll check on you privately, just in case you don’t want him asking you in front of the other students.

Will still make you the butt of some of his jokes (but it’s never to make fun of your autism).

He just finds your difficulty with grasping his sarcastic humor too good an opportunity to not poke fun at.

Can still come off as insensitive sometimes (it’s Gojo) but is trying his best. Just let him know when he’s said/done something to upset you and he’ll stop.

Sometimes when it’s just you two, he’ll listen to you explain your current special interests.

Imagine him listening to you talk about your favorite show on the phone while fighting a special grade curse.

“Mmhmm, yeah? Hold on a sec y/n.” He finishes killing off the giant curse in front of him. “Sorry about that, you were saying?”

He knows what it’s like to be easily overstimulated since his six eyes enhance all his senses. He also gets migraines a lot because of it, just like you.

If you have/had a Digimon hyper fixation, you’re his #1 student now. He will test you on your Digimon knowledge. You’ll both get lost in back-and-forth conversations about the lore, show, and games. If he deems you a worthy fan, he’ll even let you play his old Digimon games.

The highest form of honor you could receive from him.

When you and your class are out in town and enter a crowded area, if you feel extremely overwhelmed, Gojo will teleport you out of there to a place with less people.

Either that or he’ll grab you and turn on his infinity, giving you space from the bumping crowd of bodies around you.

If you’re going through a burnout and need to be away from people for a bit, he’ll understand and probably leave a candy outside your door.

He knows you need extra help and accommodations with your disability, but he never treats you differently from his other students and knows you’re tough enough to handle whatever’s thrown at you.

You are a sorcerer, after all.

He wants to guide the next generation of stronger sorcerers where no one gets left behind, including those like you.

“Gojo-sensei, why are you staring at that corner?”

“Just trying to figure out why you’re always staring at it during class. What makes it more interesting than me?”

“Sensei!!”

:))

Nanami Kento 🥖

He also quickly notices your autism and makes sure you feel comfortable unmasking around him.

He does NOT tolerate discrimination/unfair treatment of any kind towards people based on their disabilities.

I imagine one of his coworkers at his old accounting job was on the spectrum and understood how challenging it could be for them. So he would try to help them however he could.

Because of this, he has more personal experience under his belt to better understand how to work with you.

He thinks it’s shit how a lot of society and the education system (both in and out of jujutsu society) are so unaccommodating to people with physical/mental health needs.

If you have a hyper fixation with bread and/or cooking, he’ll gladly listen to you talk about it however long you want while donning his usual stoic expression.

Don’t worry, he’s not bored or annoyed. As a fellow culinary lover himself, he’s genuinely interested in listening to you talk and will engage in the conversation.

The way you enthusiastically talk about your interests reminds him a bit of Haibara.

He admires your attention to detail and strong sense of empathy towards people, animals, and inanimate objects.

His low voice is very calming to you.

If you follow a specific schedule and/or organized, he’ll admire that too since he also hates falling behind schedule.

If you are spacing out during an important briefing about a mission, he’ll say your name to get your attention or gently pat your shoulder.

“L/n-san…”

“Oh, sorry!”

“That’s alright. Do you want me to repeat what I just said?”

If you’re in a dissociative episode, he’ll calmly ask you what’s bothering you and help you work through it however he can.

If you’re going through a burnout and need to be alone for a while, he’ll understand and give you as much space as you need.

He might knock on your door to give you a small packaged pastry. He hopes it helps.

He understands you may have some internalized ableism, so he makes sure to speak positively of your autism to help you build your confidence.

“L/n-san, why do you have a coat with you when it’s March?”

“Oh, well it was pretty cold this morning. And…well…it’s not anymore but…..”

“I see. That’s a rather smart decision on your part.”

“Really?”

“It means you’re always well prepared for anything. That’s an important skill to have as a sorcerer.”

“Thanks, Nanami-sensei.”

“………………….so can I try on your gogg—”

“No”

[songmingisthighs]

[12:14] boxer!san × nurse!reader

⇀ he's your favourite outlaw and it's not because of his rugged charm, surprisingly it's because of how tender he actually is

⇁ bouncy killed me istfg

⇁ happy sannie day ❣️❣️

genre : boxer!au, romance, outlaw!ateez

wc : 1.8 k

It didn't take much for you to recognize him.

Even with his body sitting down and leaning on the stairs as he faced the floor, you could easily recognize that it was him.

You wanted to greet him as you usually would, but as you got closer, you noticed something weird about him. His back was moving in a rhythmical manner like how he usually would when he was breathing but it was slower than usual. The closer you get, the more you realize that he had cuts on his arm and some bruises.

"Oh my God, San," you called, rushing to his side as quickly as you could, your fatigue from 12 hours shift suddenly went away at the sight of his bloodied tank top. You knelt in front of him and peeked up to see that he had his eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed but he wasn't responsive. Usually, at the sound of your voice, the flirt would throw you a lazy gaze and a Cheshire-like grin that would make you blush and sputter. But seeing him in this unresponsive position actually scared you. You genuinely felt like something was wrong and knowing that he was an underground fighter makes the situation even worse for you.

"San, can you hear me?" you asked as you made an initial assessment, hands brushing his bangs out of his eyes to look at his face. From the get-go, you could see that he had a bruised cheekbone, a busted lip, and possibly a concussion. You can only imagine what his body must be like. And you meant that as in the bruises on his torso and not how it must look. Because you know damn well it's sculpted as fuck from the many times he walked past you and intentionally flashed you his abs.

You tried lifting his head up but he let out a grunt and shook his head. "Too bright," he complained.

Understanding this, you nodded and moved to sit next to him closely as you brought one of his arms and rest it on your shoulder. "I need to take you to my apartment so I can properly tend to your wounds. Do you think you can move?" true to his mannerism, he chuckled and leaned his head to the crook of your neck like a feline seeking contact, "How 'bout you give me some sugar first? That might help me gain some strength." You automatically rolled your eyes at his remark but you had to admit his words made you feel better because at least you know that he was fine. "Okay big guy, we're moving you," you stated as you started pulling him up and leading him to the elevator. "Big guy? Have you been checking me out, pretty?" he teased. You kept quiet thought because a. yes, and b. he needs to shut up.

The elevator ride up was thankfully not that hard as San was holding his own weight for the most part, you just guide him so he wouldn't sway or even fall down. He also stayed quiet which concerned you but you were just glad that he was still moving. Sure, he stumbled slightly as he got into your apartment, but other than that, he settled down on your couch easily and even respectfully towards your cat.

You rushed to get the first aid kit that you always kept stocked in your bedroom, knowing that San and his roommate, Wooyoung, would sometimes come knocking in after a night of fighting be it in the ring or in an alley with people they messed with. So it wasn't really a surprise to go back to your living room to see your tabby cat, Taco, splayed on San's lap looking like he just found the comfiest bed ever. You obviously wouldn't mind trying but for now, you just wanted to make sure that San was alright.

"Taco, move away from Sannie, mommy needs to clean him," you called out as you sat next to San. But Taco, in all his absolute pettiness, simply lift his head up and stared dead straight into your eyes as if challenging you as he fluff up San's thighs with his pudgy paws. You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at your hellraiser with equal challenge, letting him know that he was not the boss of you. When he didn't move his chubby butt, you were forced to deliver the last blow, "Or else no snacks." That seemed to speak to him on a profound level as he jumped off after giving you one last dirty look and retreated into your bedroom. "Sorry about him," you grinned sheepishly, taking San's hand into your lap as you began cleaning the first wound your eyes fell on. San couldn't even feel the pain of his wound getting cleaned anymore, so instead of worrying over the result of the last night's fight, he focused his eyes o you, "No worries, I like him. And I love the fact that you called me Sannie to Taco which leads me to believe that you might have been talking about me to him a lot," he teased.

Your eyes widened at his (very accurate) assumption and you wanted to believe that he didn't notice the blush that bloomed on your face, an absolute testament to what this man could do to you without doing much. "So," you cleared your throat, "What happened?" you asked, changing the topic before he could tease you more. "What else do you think? I won," he boasted, proud that he made bank from his hard night's work.

Though it was a good thing that he won, you couldn't help but sigh in disappointment hearing that he went rounds upon rounds to secure his achievement. "I worry about you," you blurted out, turning around to get betadine and a cotton pad to dress his wound properly. Though San had a confident look on his face, he could feel his heart skipped a beat at your confession. "Why so?" He asked, hopeful. Without lookinf up at him, you answered casually, "Because I don't like seeing you getting hurt like this," but even in that tone, San could sense that you were being genuine.

In all honesty, San teased you because he thought that was the only way he could get your attention. Sure he had hoped that the the spare glances you threw at him were actually sincerely from your heart but he can't convince himself that someone with a legitimate career like you would want to have anything to do with a bloodied bastard who beat people up for money. So San settled for the lowest expectation because that's what peope always expect of the underdog anyways. But your words were shaking his belief down like a stickhouse in an elephant stampede, which goes to show how strong San's resolve is towards you and it's bad. He was down bad. Part of him was glad that you seemed to want to keep an arm's length from him but part of him want to be in your lap at night, having your fingers card through his hair softly as you told him again and again how glad you were that he was able to come home in one piece. Because that's what he actually want, a home.

San's mind was snapped back into reality when he noticed you were snapping your fingers in front of his face and calling out his name. "San??" You called out again with furrowed eyebrows, "Shit, I think you're having a concussion," you muttered, moving your position so that his body was straight, facing forward. "Eh?" San blinked confusedly with a slightly tilted head, looking so much like Taco whenever you brought a jinggly toy near him. Thankfully you were too busy making sure San didn't have brain damage to blush and sputter, trying to do your job as best as you could for him. You situated yourself at a fair distance, not to close yet not too far and you put both of your hands between you and him and held out a finger each. "Can you see my fingers clearly?" With your best effort, you tried to suppress the fact that you were very much worried about him because it wasn't your time to show emotions and ended up having him worry over you instead. Looking at your fingers, San did a double take before his relaxed-confused look turned into disbelief-confused, "Are you flipping me off?" He scoffed. Almost immediately you let out a sigh of relief before straightening up and nodded, "I had to get a reaction out of you, you were mumbling about a parrot talking about chilli peppers when you were zoning out, I had to know if it was concussion or perhaps you took something."

Just as you were about to turn around to get a damp rag, San pulled you with his powerful strength, causing you to yelp and freeze when you realized that you had fell into a particularly compromising position. Your hands were on his strong, broad shoulders with your left leg bent and resting on the outside of San's right thigh and the other in between his spread legs while San had one hand on your wrist and the other on your waist with a confident, lazy smile on his face. God how much you want to wipe that grin off his face. With your own lips.

"Baby, why would I take drugs when a moment with you gets me high for days?" And of course he had to make your stomach flip by pecking you gently on the nose. Your breath hitched and a small squeak escaped from your clamped mouth, not knowing what to do other than stare at him with wide eyes. San seemed amused at how you reacted however, pulling away and leaning back against the couch with arms spread wide, the confident bastard.

For a moment you sputtered, eyes darting everywhere but San's face before remembering what you wanted to get merely moments ago. You somehow found the strength to stand on your two feet and turn to the kitchen but not before tripping on your feet slightly and almost falling. You didn't even have to turn to know that San was looking at you amusedly, delighting in how affected you were by him but this time it wasn't because he just wanted to see a reaction out of you. He was seeing you in the light of someone he had a chance of having normalcy with. So while you were cursing yourself for being a klutz, San was enjoying the domestic fantasy in his head.

That was until loud knocks were heard from your front door that was followed by a very familiar screeching voice that made Taco jump out and hiss at the direction.

"CHOI SAN YOU LITTLE BITCH YOU LEFT ME IN THE DUMPSTER!!"

So much for domestic peace.

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @kflixnet

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[parkerpeter24]

bloody love . part 4

pairing ➳ peter parker x reader

warnings ➳ hanahaki!au, angst, fluff too this time 🥰 a happy ending (maybe)

w.c. ➳ 2.2k

summary ➳ maybe. just maybe love doesn’t kill.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

peter knew now. he didn’t know what to do with the information but he knew.

he hoped you didn’t know that he knew. so he walked into the hallway of midtown high as if nothing happened last night.

as if it was another day.

as if his whole world was not collapsing.

you were cautious around him after that night. he noticed it every time the two of you hung out– if that’s what anyone could call it. but he was thankful that you had at least started getting lunch everyday along with him and ned, just like before.

however, you were almost formal. like you didn’t even know him even though he was still the silly boy who bought your favourite milkshake for you and made corny star wars jokes.

“don’t you think it’s a little too cold now for milkshake?” you asked him, almost letting out a laugh as he placed two of the familiar little milkshake cartons in front of you.

“it never stopped you before.” he gave you an almost challenging look, finally breaking your hard exterior, making you let out a small laugh.

ned couldn’t stop the adoring smile that made way to his lips, sitting across from the two of you. peter had told him the detailed account of everything the second he found out you passed up on that surgery. he just couldn’t keep it all in anymore. ned was the saviour he needed then. but now, peter had to kick him under the table, making that smile disappear off his face.

peter hoped you would tell him one day that you decided to not get surgery for your condition. but then again, would he tell you about his?

he wasn’t sure even one bit.

why were feelings so complicated all the time. he wanted to just ask to talk to you in private but everytime he was around you, he could find words scarce. peter parker, the guy who scored perfect a’s in language, found it hard to talk in front of you.

he was thankful that you hadn’t completely pushed him away because some nights he would still visit your balcony, keeping an ear out just in case your mom’s footsteps neared your room, and the two of you would just watch the few visible stars.

it was the little sneeze that made peter wrap his arm securely around your shoulder, “everything okay?”

you rubbed your nose slightly, “i’m sure it was the milkshake.”

you could almost see the outline of his thin lips through his mask as he pressed them together, “i’m sorry, i was kinda second guessing it too.”

“it’s fine.” you shrugged, hoping you wouldn’t catch a cold.

“it was actually stupid of me, to be honest, i’m sorry-”

“it’s fine, peter.” you tried to assure him but he didn’t seem convinced. you could tell by the way he exhaled, the cold air turning it into a small cloud of mist.

“but i-”

“you don’t have to keep apologising.” you added, cutting him off again.

“but i hurt you.” he suddenly let out, voice almost a whisper.”

“so did i, to you.”

peter swore his heart stopped beating for a few seconds. he knew he was bad at keeping a secret but was he this bad? how could you have found out about his condition? he was discreet and it had been some time since he felt his breath clog up due to those goddamn flowers, “-huh?” was all he could let out.

“you know, how i ignored you for so long?” your voice was as soft as his had been a minute ago, “i was a shitty friend to you, not the other way around.”

“that’s not-”

“no, i was selfish.” you looked up at him, finding the same pattern of web-like structure. it was almost disappointing to see his face so close but not actually seeing his face. you took his hand and carefully tugged on it, “let’s go inside.”

peter followed without another word even if he’d wanted to stop you from talking about yourself like that. he took off his mask the second you closed the curtains. thankful that you didn’t have to ask him to do so, you sat onto the edge of your bed and so did he, following persuit.

it was after a few minutes of silence that peter spoke up, finally finding the right words to say, “you did what you had to. i’m not upset.”

“you have every right to be upset…” you stared at the floor, “it’s none of my business if you and gwen-”

“there’s nothing.” peter cut you off, shifting so that he was facing you, his knees brushing against your thigh, “between me and gwen, i mean.”

your eyebrows were pulled together when you looked at him, “i thought…”

“that was the past. i- i didn’t… nothing happened.”

“oh.”

the silence ensued again, the only sounds in the room being the steady breathing of you and peter. you searched your brain for anything else that you could talk about next but nothing came to mind.

“would you like to go to ned’s christmas party with me?” peter mumbled out, breaking the silence once again.

“he’s having a christmas party?” a faint smile came over your features despite the fact that you weren’t already invited to said party, “sounds nice.”

peter smiled in return leaning in to kiss your forehead. you blinked in surprise as his lips lingered over your skin for a second more. not wanting to read too much into it, you pulled back, “uhm... so, it’s getting late.”

you felt the need to hide your face from peter as the warmth spread through your cheeks.

“right.” peter mumbled before he shuffled off your bed and put his mask, “i’ll see you tomorrow?”

“you will.” you confirmed, opening the window for him to climb out.

your gaze followed him until he disappeared into the cold night of new york.

it was half past midnight when peter climbed through his window, into his own room. the first thing he did was call ned. his best friend answered in a groggy voice from just being woken up, “peter? what’s wrong?”

“ned. you need to host a christmas party.”

–––

“she’s heard every michael bublé christmas song ever.” peter grinned as he looked at you, in his overly christmas-y sweater with santa’s laughing face on it. he held a cup of hot chocolate in his hands because ned’s lola wouldn’t let any of you make eggnog.

“they’re just all too good.” you shrugged, sitting down on the couch.

when peter said a christmas party, you thought the house would be filled with people and the smell of baked goods. but when peter opened the door for you, the only lights you could see were the ones in the living room area, above the led tv which showcased the movie “jingle all the way” paused on the screen.

you greeted ned with a hug and gave him the plum cake you mom had made.

the three of you talked and had one too many hot chocolates and before you know it was time to go home and peter was offering to walk you home.

you walked in silence, looking around at the snow glazed grass.

“thanks for inviting me to the christmas party.” you mumbled as you neared your apartment building.

“thanks for coming. it wouldn’t have been a christmas party without you.” peter remarked, making you laugh and nod in agreement.

“actually, without your sweater, it wouldn’t have been a christmas party.” you chuckled, and so did he as he felt you tug at the sleeve of his oversized sweater.

he sighed in what felt like comfort. you looked at his face for a second before your eyes met and peter gulped, finding the courage to utter the next words that he’d been waiting to say the whole evening, “i uh… i-i brought something.”

you could feel the nervousness swimming in his eyes as you nodded for him to show what it was.

peter dug into his pocket and pulled out a small leaf. you eyed the unmistakable plant and then your eyes flickered to the brown ones that were already staring at yours.

“it’s um… a mistletoe plant… well it was a plant, now it’s just a leaf.” he gave out a nervous chuckle, “but we don’t have to-”

the leaf fell onto the tar of the road when peter had to hold onto the back of your neck. your lips were slow against his and his other arm went around your waist when you pushed yourself against him. peter felt the few snowflakes pause in the air as the world stopped– or maybe it was just his breath– but he didn’t waste a second in kissing you back with the same passion.

you pulled back reluctantly, finding yourself on the tip of your toes and breath short. it didn’t matter. nothing else mattered when peter pushed his forehead against yours, making you get back onto your heels.

peter leaned in again, fingers gently digging into the back of your head as he kissed you this time. your arms went around his shoulders as you held onto him. this one was more rushed than the last. his hand at the small of your back, pulling you closer to himself. when peter pulled back this time, he held you like this, looking into your eyes. it seemed as if you two had been slow dancing.

“i missed this.” he mumbled, making you laugh.

“we’ve never done this.”

“i know. that’s what i missed about it.” and he leaned in again, pressing his lips to yours for a third kiss.

you were so thankful that everyone was busy with their families, leaving the road completely empty of cars and passer-bys for you and peter to make out. you probably wouldn’t have found this amount of privacy in your own room, your cousins lounging in it together.

“i should go.” you mumbled quietly, sighing softly as you felt the phone vibrate in your jacket’s pocket, surely your mom’s call.

peter hummed but neither of you moved, “i can join you.”

you held his warm cheeks gently in your gloved hands, “my mom will chase you out of the building.”

“you’re worth it.”

you gave him a soft smile as he finally stood up straighter, though keeping his arm around your waist, “we have a lot to talk about…”

he nodded in agreement, “we do… and i’m ready whenever you are.”

–––

you’d texted him five minutes before you were knocking at his door. it was wednesday, so may was out all day on her hospital shift and it felt like the perfect time to talk to peter. clear up the air between you two and hopefully… kiss him some more.

it started in reverse order.

you had been in his room for all of three seconds before the consequences of not seeing each other for two whole days came up. peter was holding your face gently, his lips pressed to yours as you two shared small kisses. your hands were on his arms as he guided the two of you to sit on the edge of his bed, “god, i missed you.” he mumbled, moving one hand to the back of your neck.

“missed you too.” you kissed him again, pushing gently so the two of you were laying down beside each other.

peter looked into your eyes, running his thumb over your cheek, “i was so stupid. to not see what was in front of me all along.”

you shook your head, “i was more stupid. it would have been fine if i never caught feelings for-”

“y/n, i love you.”

your eyes snapped up to his, a warm feeling was blossoming in your chest, unakin to the other times. these blossoms felt different, “you…”

“i should have said it before. before you went away.”

you looked down at that, not knowing that the brunette already knew what was going through your mind. he held your chin between his thumb and index, making you look at him, and you gulped, “peter i…”

“you never got the surgery.” yet again your eyes snapped up to meet his soft, brown ones, “i heard you… talking to your mom.”

“oh.” was all you could utter, not knowing what else to say, “so then…”

“there’s something you should know too.” peter sighed, cutting you off mid sentence and sitting up, making you follow suit, “i… got it too.”

your eyebrows furrowed, “the flowers?”

he nodded once, closing his eyes.

“when…?”

“months back… same time you left. i didn’t know what to say then.” he sighed, shifting so that he was closer to you again, “i know what to say now. i love you.”

you smiled softly, “you did not just quote star wars.”

“the fact that you remember it makes me love you more.” peter let out a laugh, pressing his forehead against yours.

you leaned in, capturing his lips in a soft kiss.

“promise me something.”

“what?”

“no more flowers.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

taglist (been a while, feel free to ignore): @the-girl-in-the-chair @annathesillyfriend @uwiuwi @spideyspeaches @prancerrparkerr @usergarfields @theglitterymess @quaksonhehe @starlight-starks @piscesparker @incorrectsourwolf @wildxwidow @annab-nana @kelieah @arvinsvintage @parkersdahlia @raajali3 @tommyfroggie @ellabellabus07 @holland-styles @1-800-starkindustrie @feariteriu @wittlewowa @20forty9 @skepticalleo

[coffeegnomee]

I wanted to write about how far Zam has come with his character for like a week now and now he’s acknowledged it himself so I finally grabbed all the quotes.

Let’s go down memory lane shall we? 

DAY 1 

24:00 “There’s a ghost that haunts my dreams [...] I see him in my sleep. He tells me to kill people. But I don’t want to kill anyone”

“I have to hold it in.. [...] I wish I had like horror sound effects to play and images of every lifesteal member dead and I could flash them across the screen” does that. 

ZAM: “*lights armadillo on fire* “give it a slow, painful death” PENTAR: “for someone against the whole idea of killing, you seem to have a gruesome way around killing things.” ZAM “I’m still me” [armadillo dies.] “I can only resist the urges so much [evil giggle]”

10:07:00 after Pentar kills him “It’s not about being above anyone by not killing people, I would just prefer not to. Because last season I feel like I was.. Something else. And I don’t want to do that again. I don’t want to be that again. You know?”

“Because it’s not supposed to be some morality, ‘I’m better than you’ kind of thing, you know? I don’t want to be on some like high horse. It’s more of like, I just don’t wanna let the demon out, you know, that type of thing”

Reflecting on the first two days, I wrote this about Zam: This season looks like an internal battle of his personal desire to complete a minecraft challenge™ (no kills) vs his desire to do lore and change his character multiple times. And I just don’t think the challenge wins long term. A challenge isn’t what makes him love lifesteal, it’s the lore. 

Day 4 7/9/24

1:01:05 “‘zam has no enemies’ no, it’s not that I have no enemies, it’s just that if I kill people, I’m going to become like a monster. Like way worse than anyone else on the server. You know? And I like don’t want that reputation if I’m like just peacefully building. [...] ‘oh bro’s scared to hurt others then?’ yup! [...] ‘bad things will happen…. (meep)’ yea last time I hurt someone, last time i tried to hurt someone, bad things happened. And i just… can’t do that again, you know?”

1:21:40 killing bogged in trial chamber. “It feels nice cutting things down, I don’t think I’ve been doing enough of this. [...] I’m going to kill all of you, I’m going to kill every single one of you. [...] is it weird to say that I’ve missed this? Even though ‘this’ is just cutting down a bunch of skeletons, just jumping up and down and left clicking [...]  [evil giggles (and not to anything in chat)] [...] my sword might say “im so sorry’ but I’m not sorry, I’m not even a little sorry right now” 

2:19:05 “”also Zam is emo’ (chips) “no i’m not! I’m so happy! I’m the happiest i've been in a long time. That’s why I have my nipple out. That’s not true why did i say that” 

4:04:50 Wemmbu killed Spoke. ZAM: “[opens statistics] it still says zero. It still says zero. It still says zero it still says zero. So I’m fine. I’m fine. Cause it still says zero.. [walks around base] I’m fine. It’s perfectly fine. ‘0 plants potted’ (arch) okay actually that’s what I got the clay for so.. Thank you for saying that actually, very convenient timing. [goes to shed to smelt] [blows out breath] I’m just gonna chop down trees. I’m just gonna chop down trees and I’m just gonna leave this group and I’m gonna chop down trees and I’m gonna have a fun time and nothing bad’s gonna happen. And everything’s gonna be a-okay [hannah logged on] I thought Mapicc logged on I cannot lie. Okay maybe I’m scared. [Mapicc logs on] [gasp, crouches] motherfucker. Motherfucker [under breath]”

Dies to Mapicc three times. 

5:26:00 is thinking about how he’s doing a character nobody else on lifesteal has done before. Puts on a lore song. “‘If there’s one thing you’ve been consistent in the last two seasons, it’s been steady in your morals until the end’ (chips) yea. But here’s the thing though [giggle] does it matter? Or like, what’s it called. Am I restricting myself? Do you guys think? Most definitely, right. And it’s like. I dunno, a big part of me feels like it would be nice to like, let go, and just like, join in on all the violence, and everything, and all that stuff. You know? Like it would be nice. It would be nice, I think. Maybe. Maybe not, I don't know… [evil giggle] ahhh. [long pause, arch in chat said ‘once you do it you can’t go back though’ he doesn’t read it out] [lore music cuts out] [very seriously] no that’s stupid. No. I’m not gonna. I’m not gonna. [blows breath] I’m not gonna let myself go as far as I did last season. I’m not gonna let myself do anything like that again [tehe giggle] [huffs out breath]”

5:28:18 “‘it was fun tho’ (chips) it was, but it was fun at the expense of others. It was fun… but it was damaging to the server.. It was. I dunno. I don’t think it’s who I want to be. I don’t think I was born to be…That. you know? I don’t know. I feel like that’s not who I am. I feel like that was never who I was.” 

7/13/24 end fight day 

~2:38:00 ZAM: “‘its not ok to kill people but it's ok to ask people really nicely to kill people you don't like’ I’m allowed to persuade people’s opinions, I think, and I can only do that when I’m really really mad. [...] But i dunno. [sigh] I’ve messaged both opposing teams so i dunno, I don’t care enough though. Whatever. This is beyond me."

“Joker zam went back into his closet’ (meep) that’s true. I was possessed for a second there. [messages MC chat saying that] ‘my evil self wishes for me to kill everyone. I won’t tho.' 

7/14/24 day he kills planet

Hour and half of Pangi messing with him while he gets more and more frustrated at the shulker farm. 

1:28:50 Zam flies after Pangi and crits him out, but he stops. “I can’t crit him out like that, I’m gonna get my first player kill and it’s gonna ruin all my lore” 

1:40:00 pangi is still singing, Zam bows him, then tries fishing rodding him. He comes up the farm PANGI: “hey PrinceZam, do you need therapy?” ZAM: “shut up you always got some noise to make, shut up. [...] I bet you’re my first kill this season” PANGI: “BAHAHAA” ZAM: “just kidding I won’t kill anyone. Just kidding. Just kidding just kidding. That was a joke. That was a joke. I won’t kill anyone. [blows out breath]” PANGI: “okay PrinceZam.” 

1:47:00 ZAM: “what the fuck just happened to me. Dude, I need to stop. He keeps, he keeps trying to get me to get my first kill, bro. He’s trying to get me to get my first kill. I can’t. I can’t do it. I can’t do it. It’s getting harder and harder, with each and every day, to hold back [sigh] oooh kay. ‘Why aren’t you killing anybody’ because as soon as I kill one person, I go down a dark dark path. And you don’t want to see that dark dark path. ‘WE DO’ I don’t. K fine, maybe you do. I don’t. A great darkness lurks within me. A great darkness lurks within me. It’s consumed me, ever since, ever since I was young. ‘Your dark side is banging on the door, let the poor guy in’ no. noo. I’m gonna build a closet in my house. ‘PLEASE DO IT’ where could I even, oh I know where I could actually build a closet right now, let’s do that right now actually hold on. Unironically lets do that right now” 

6:24:44 zam goes to bacon in his base, “Whenever I sleep, he comes to me. So i try not to sleep in that bed anymore” BACON: “[baffled] how did that even start. Like how did you even, what, how did this even become a thing in your head” ZAM: “[ignoring] there’s a demon in my closet, any time, any time I die he comes closer to possessing me.” BACON: “okay what is the demon trying to get you to do.” ZAM: “kill everyone” BACON: “oooohhh. Oh I like that. Okay okay” ` 

Then there’s the fated Bacon stream 

2:39:00 bacon and planet meme around about the build battle rules and Zam snaps, “if you want to be a bitch about it you don’t have to fucking play, goddamm. Dumbass fucking planetlord and baconnwaffles. I hate both of you. Fuck you guys. I’m going back into the house… i’m going into my closet” 

They clean up spawn a bit, he comes back out swinging at them. Then goes on top of the lighthouse and starts shooting them from a distance. 

Planet takes off all his armor and pops like a grape.

Then on Spep’s stream he stalks Spep around to the End islands, generally just looks really threatening. Says he won’t remember this when he wakes up, but Spep will. 

7/15/24 

~14:00 ZAM: “[strained] dude, pangi I killed planet” PANGI: “[strained too]I know. Hey, it wasn’t your fault” ZAM: “i shouldn’t have even had a bow” 

He builds the tree and writes his first oath 

In the first draft he wrote “I cannot do anything that goes against the interest of the entire server”

he changed “entire server” to “majority of players” to “most players” 

And changed “attack any player” because chat went crazy about him not being able to punch anyone, to “kill any other players” 

7/18/24 

Flame and mapicc start fighting

22:40 ZAM: “dude I did give mapicc a heads up there, I can’t lie. [realizing] I’ve been playing all sides, I can’t lie. This is interesting. I’m just chummy with everyone, I dunno, i don't do it intentionally. I do it a little intentionally, i can’t lie, but not like, intentionally”

33:20 ZAM: “I really don’t like the idea of playing both sides, but like, like- I’m trying my hardest not to, [...] Like if you shove 100 dollars in my face like I’m probably gonna take it right? Like like [giggling], it’s just like, ugh, it’s so stupid [laughing] i don’t like this. I don't know, I’m opportunist I guess. I’m just an opportunist I guess because I'm pacifist and I don't wanna die." So. But like also I really just don’t like the idea of being someone who plays both sides, it’s so awkward” while watching the fight from a distance. "

7/20/24 

From 2:43:00 to 3:15:00 hops between group chats and instinctively gets information and relays it to everyone else. Actually just leaks every word he hears lol. 

4:51:10 “imagine flame goes on a killing spree just so he can pay you to make more builds lol’ (citrus) dude. Is the blood on my hands then? That’s something I was wondering, what if this becomes bad. To where they’re like murdering people just for the sake of like, whats it called, paying me. ‘Yes you're evil then’ (sin) aw shit. It’s my fault. I mean I guess it depends on how bad it gets. I felt really bad when they killed jepex for me. I can’t lie, in the moment I thought it was really funny but looking back, it’s literally the same as like. Like I think me asking them to kill someone is the same as me killing them myself, it lowkey does not matter. So I’m lowkey like having another moral dilemma right there, on that one. ”

“I’m gonna stop asking people to fucking kill people for me that’s stupid, i don’t want to do that anymore”

This is so interesting, because day 1 he just wanted the statistic, and it was okay for him to do traps or gaslight people and all that. Then it was no traps, no violence. Then it was it’s okay to influence the opinions of people who already want to kill the people I want dead. Now it’s like, even that is not okay.

7/21/24 building Flame’s volcano in one day

45:00 [unprompted] “do you know something I was thinking of, which like, i just feel like it would be so easy to turn like, any tree, at spawn, into a trap. It would be so easy right? [...] I’m not gonna do it! Just like a fun idea. [..] [starts making the trap] but then it would make it real. I shouldn’t do this actually. I- i shouldn’t do this. This isn’t a good idea. Nevermind. Nevermind. [rubs face] Ooh my god, back to building back to building. I’m building I’m just building. [puffs out breath] I’m just building. I’m building a castle. I’m not why would I - why would i even make a [giggles] why did I even do that in the first place.” 

2:43:00 breaking the bedrock of the end fountain to make a concrete duper “i feel really good at this. Like too good at this. It’s just holding down q, it’s not that special. But fuck. ‘It’s in your blood’ I don't want to be the guy that left behind, that broke all that bedrock, you know? I don’t want that to be my legacy, I don't want that to be my reputation. I don’t want that to be what I leave behind. Aw geeze. [breaks last bedrock] oh my god. [frustrated] That was effortless”

7:31:30 “‘it’s ok you can blame all your blunders on the demon’ (seri) [lore] what if there was no demon. [not lore] new headcanon. Just me trying to justify my acts. [soft giggle] waittt.. [pause] thank goodness the demon is real, so. the demon is real. Only i can see him” 

8:23:00 crashout over not being “able” to defend himself.  “‘its okay zam we saw how you are at the end of every single season’ (citrus) yea, you guys have. The deep darkness that’s within me, [giggle] ugh. ‘They’ll see… one day’ (mer) I don’t want them to see, no, that’s the thing, i don’t want them to see. [..] It’s just like, like I Could fight, it’s just such a hassle, to like, get into it, and then not, you know. Cause like, okay, okay, here here, let’s envision it, lets say I do want to fight people, right? theoretically, but, I don’t want to let out the evil evil darkness that’s within me, right? How the hell am I gonna do that when I’m constantly taking fights, constantly losing, constantly getting overly attached, overly invested in conflict, like how am i gonna, how am I gonna contain the demon within, if I, what’s it called, if I, if I’m constantly getting myself into fights? You know? ‘Getting good’ (chips) no but like I’m being dead serious, like cause, what’s it called, eventually they’re gonna hit me in a way that is gonna make me want to go full force, there’s no point in trying to fight if I’m not gonna go 100% all in, you know? So. I dunno. Maybe if I get better at my self control and discipline” 

So there’s two things. One, “it’s a hassle” is classic burnout. And you just have to wait for burnout to leave. And two, he is very self aware that someone will do something that will make him get invested. But he won’t flip that switch until that happens because there is no point. Which is very valid and wise. 

It’s such an interesting conversation, because it’s the first time he hasn’t made breaking his oath into a silly lore moment. It’s really settling into being a real part of him. He’s being honest about what fighting would actually do.

10:36:00 talks to jumper about his pacifism and their parallels. He tells her about how he knows he’ll get too invested and he wont want to hold back. As opposed to being unable. 

7/24/24 

53:10 Zam goes to the trial chambers again “dude wait these slimes have strength, are they gonna kill me? Dude I wanted to feel something but now I’m just not feeling anything actually. I was, I was, I was expecting more of a challenge”

7/25/24 day 1 peace trials

16:30 “do you think SB737 is going to kill me if he finds me? His layer’s off, I think he ran away from spawn after that one. I could see him trying though. I’ve lowkey, dude, lowkey i've been wishing someone would kill me, unfortunately I did starve to death, so now I don’t wish someone would kill me anymore. But like, it’s just been sooo peaceful, building these past few days you know? Like i haven’t ran into any kind of metal peril in soooo long like that’s crazy you know. It’s been a hot minute.”

First time he talks about wanting to be chased. 

37:00 annoyed about SB butting him in D teir for how easy he would be killed.  “‘zam is the most aggressive pacifist’ yea! Cause I mean how else am I supposed to let my anger out other than with my words. I still have emotions. They're still there” 

7/29/24 

1:07:24 still ignoring Bacon “If I’m gonna be a pacifist and not kill people, I should be able to hold a grudge somehow” “my only fighting method” 

Plotting the shift in zam’s mindset is like making a color spectrum and it’s just ever so slightly gradient-ed and before you know it it’s just all red.

8/17/24 

58:00  MANE: “but think about how many hearts I’ve given you before Zam”  ASH: “WAIT. ZAm is accepting hearts from people That Kill? That’s not very peaceful of you zam. That goes against your oath. You’re just accepting heart that has, that puts blood on your hands. I’m not even joking about this” ZAM: “I-, I don’t. I don’t think it does.” ASH: “You’re benefiting from the spoils of the death that you claim to be so against”  Zam jumps away from the conversation at the same time. nervously? 

ZAM: “[calmly] if kills have already happened what am I supposed to do to stop it. I only care about myself not killing people” [parkouring over to the roof of the house] ASH: “You literally” ZAM: “not other people. The server can do whatever the fuck it wants. I don’t care” PANGI” aaahhhhh” ASH: “That’s the most. That’s the most selfish view” 

ZAM: “I learned from you! The best side to play is all sides, right? That’s what you said [...] hypocrytical as fuck” ASH: “I mean, I’m not claiming to be any good person, I’m just saying your whole oath and code of honor is” ZAM: “I’m not either. I’m trying to be a good person but, hey” PANGI: “You’re doing a really bad job I can tell you that, Zam” ZAM: “yea. [swings around to look at pangi] coming from you is crazy” 

1:03:00 “‘you’ve only done build commissions for incredibly violent people huh’ (arch) that is something to consider huh, am I [sharp breath in] let me put on the lore music hold on. Am I. and I, I don’t think I’m the worst person to- okay. No. you know what? It doesn’t matter. Because there are worse people on this server. So I’m not that bad by comparison [...] You know I’m doing better than I did last season [...] So I’m okay. I’m happy with my choices I feel like. I dunno. I mean like gaining, gaining hearts is not the worst thing in the world, it’s kind of like the point of the server is it not? I dunno. Hmmm ‘i mean violent people are the ones who have the hearts’ (citrus) exactly! Yea, my only, the only people I CAN do business with is the violent people”

“But by taking hearts from them am I not encouraging them to kill more? Yea, that’s something to consider as well, you know? Cause, but it’s like. Ugggghhh let me read through the oath again. ‘Are they killing other violent people or innocents’ (arch) that’s true! I mean. They kill innocents when they feel like killing innocents it depends on the person i’m dealing with. [...]  I can’t control what other people do. It’s not selfish [heavy emphasis. Meaning ashsawg’s comment] it’s just like, me controlling what I can control. You can only control, you should only worry about what you can control, and what I can control is limiting myself.”

“I mean shit. What do I even want these hearts for” 

“‘you got one kill’ ‘you killed planet’ okay okay okay you killed planet okay. I hate how many people are talking about that. [..]  ‘YOU CANNOT DENY IT ZAM’ yes I fucking can! Yes I fucking can! Because I shot at him as a fucking like bit, because was obviously never to kill him, and he took off all his fucking armor. I’ve been over it! I have been over it like a million times it’s insane! I gave back the heart too like what. [opens statistics] Like it doesn’t even count. [closes statistics] It does not count. ‘You’re still killing’ [mocking] you're still killing. Okay actual like bot opinion. Bot take. Actual bot take is what this is. Insane. Like actually insane. The fact that people are still on this is craaaazy like actually crazy. ‘PANGI HASN’T’ oohhhh that’s what this is about. That’s what this is about. That’s what this is about, it’s about pangi, and and pangi being better than me okay.” 

“That’s what this is about. It means nothing to me. Means nothing to me. I don’t care. PANGI LITERALLY- okay. Okay. okay. Okay. okay. Okay. okay. Okay. [giggle laugh] pangi is a pacifist because he wants to be. But that’s like. Dude, woogie 1 for 1 took my thing. Dude, it’s crazy how many people are pacifist why did everyone like take my thing I mean like the whole point is proof of concept is prove that it’s possible, right, but like heh heh. It’s also lame that other people are taking my thing. [more deranged leaning giggles] ‘everybody wants to be princezam.’ (mer) oh my god. “

8/19/24 

~1:11:00 found Mapicc in his base. MAPICC: “and i just like, when are you gonna kill people” ZAM: “pppffff [mocking/flabberghasted] ‘when are you going to kill people?’ [reduced to laughter] MAPCIC: ”mmhmm” ZAM: “I’m not!” MAPICC: “see that's so weird.” [...] ZAM: “you start critting me out I don’t fight back” MAPICC: “actually?” ZAM: “no like genuinely, yea” MPAICC: “wait. Okay [pots up and takes all armor off but helmet and boots]” 

1:34:00 “a little terrifying i can’t lie. it’s weird. I feel like after an encounter like that I’d have a teammate to go talk to about this. But there really isn't anyone like that this time around”

8/22/24 

3:30 about the mapicc infestation “It was a very interesting fight. Honestly one of my favorite fights of the season” 

19:40 “ohh ‘kaboodle the pacifist’ (evi4) Wait kaboodle the pacifist? Are we fucking serious. Yo. okay. Okay.  i’m not even going to say nothing bro. I’m not even going to say nothing. I’m. I’m not even going to say nothing. I’m not even going to say nothing. I’m not. I’m not even [starting to laugh]  going to say nothing, bro [deep breath in and out] how come the one season. Like the one season, that i do it and it’s like interesting, everyone else decides to do it. In season 4 no one copied subz. Everyone made fun of him. But now, but now i do it and everyone wants to fucking be me okay. Okay. no okay. No okay. No like. Bro. [so sad] [...] ‘Everyone is just scared of the big pvp-ers’ (arch) that’s true. It’s not even. It’s not even like me. Oh my god. It’s not even because i’m cool. No it’s not even because of me, it’s just they don’t want to get killed”

27:00 kab asks if she can talk to zam and get advice “oh bet. Oh i love giving advice to my fellow pacifists. My favorite thing to do ever” /sarcastic

31:40 Woogie drops in “Zam is amazing at making people peaceful”

34:00 “if your goal is pacifism, then yea, he’s passing, but if your goal is to not get murdered by people then you probably shouldn’t be destroying other people’s builds, you know. That’s how you start wars” about pangi’s pacifism. 

Which is ALSO interesting. Because zam cares about not starting wars because he doesn't want to get emotionally pulled into a fight.

ZAM: “its like i’m in a skit. And like, as soon as i start questioning one character, and another character comes out and is like “ooh i’m also a remake of you!” what the fuck is happening” 

“You know what’s keeping me going is that i’ll probably outlast them” 

42:40 “is this a bad thing? Am i bad for not wanting them to be a, [laugh] to be peaceful like me? Is that a bad thing? I mean like, i feel like, uhg. But it’s like, they- [sharp breath in] what is- what have THEY gone through? To want this change” 

“Like kaboodle is doing it to save her skin. Woogie is doing it to save his skin, like. It’s very different i feel like. It’s just very different. I [whispers] oh  my god. [spins around] what did. What do they know! What do they know. Oh my god. Fuck damn. I think that’s why i’m upset. It’s not that like, [long pause] bruh.” 

“How can i rise about the rest. That's what i want to do now. That’s what I wanna do now. I want to rise above the rest. That’s what i’m thinking about right now, i’ll be honest. How do I [sharp breath in] [blows air out] like. This is-. [grumble] this is stupid. This is dumb. I shouldn't even think about this. You know what this is dumb."

48:00 “it’s not like a fun thing to do. Like. I- being a pacifist has been like, it’s it’s had its moments i guess. I dunno though. Definitely, i’ll admit it, not the most.. fun. But uh. Thats. that’s besides the point. That’s okay. That’s.. that’s fine [deep breath in and out]” 

“‘being a pacifist isn't for everyone, you have to truly believe in the rules and know your own limits so you can be pacifist’ (hexlarry) but like that’s the thing, do i even like, fully believe in it? Cause now i’m starting to question myself. I mean I did it not so that i could save my own skin. I did it so that i could, i dunno, just avoid repeating prior mistakes. And things like that. Sooo. because getting myself into fights would probably lead me down a very very dark path and i don't want to [sharp breath] i don't wanna do all that so by avoiding conflict at all costs I, I can, what’s it called, hmmm [spins around] fuck [princezam distress noises] [...] ‘has something changed’ i dunno. I’d hope not”

“‘it feels like they’re mocking you a little’ (evu) a little bit! I guess so. That’s kind of true as well honestly. I dunno. Hmmm, it’s very. Very interesting. Very interesting turn of events. I dunno. It’s not that i feel like it’s my thing. I feel like everyone should be allowed to do it, it just feels like the way that they’re doing it kind of is like, i guess it is, i dunno. It’s a little bit like.. Hmm yea ‘it’s an easy way out to them’ (arch) to them, to them it doesn't have any of the same significance it does to me. They're doing it because they want to live longer, they want to hold onto their hearts longer, i’m doing it because I like- i essentially need to- ugh. I dunno. I’m doing it- hrmmm. No, i’m doing it because… Because i want to. Because I want to. I want to. It’s my decision. I want to do it. I dunno [jumps around thinking for a while]” 

The last part is said in the same tone he used during the Abyss arc when his team wasn't logging on to help him.

“It’s not about what other people have done though. It’s about me upholding an oath i guess. Me.. avoiding [giggle] repeating mistakes and stuff. Umm. i dunno ‘it’s a conflict with myself’ (mer) exactly. It’s entirely. Entirely within me. And that was a situation that, admittedly, I had control over. I could have just not shot my bow at him. It’s a lesson learned i guess. But. I dunno. I- I just hate it. I hate it so much because that was not meant to happen at all. Like. it’s ridiculous. Its just ridiculous i feel like. I dunno. ‘Bro is still talking about this’ yea because I care about it.”

8/23/24

5:38:00  WEMMBU: “you’re profiting off the economy of people being murdered” ZAM: “I don’t know if that’s true at all even. That’s just. [trying to talk while wemmbu is talking over him] Anyone who lives on this server is profiting off the economy bro. I don't know what you’re talking about. [...] That that’s like breathing air on this server is benefitting form the economy bro” WEMMBU: “and you’re the one that’s saying you’re and innocent soul bruh” ZAM: “i’m, somewhat innocent. I’m innocent to the point where I won’t lure someone to spawn so you guys can kill them. That's how innocent I am” WEMMBU: “wah wahh wah” 

And he leaves the group

ZAM: “Get me the fuck out of here. I simply participate in society. All i do is live and breathe air and try to live an honest to god living.”

~5:51:00 “‘Oh so you agree you’d be responsible in that scenario’ (arch) yea! If he’s going out of his way to kill people For That [the build he wanted to commission], like to pay For That, I feel like yea, I feel like then I’m definitely responsible. [...] But mane, flame, mapicc, they already have the hearts, I know they withdrew them from their hotbar, they did in front of me, it did the sound. So, yea. And flame just had a heart bank that he went and grabbed. So. yea no, those hearts were already acquired. They were, like, those kills happened, it’s over. It’s good.” 

8/24/24

2:13:00 “that was interesting. What a day. I almost hopped into a fight. Probably wont do it again, that was a one time offer. But. i dunno. I was willing to die for a cause. I wasn’t going to hit him.” 

“Maybe i faltered. Did I falter? By willing to fight? I wouldn’t hit him. I don’t think. Maybe I’d hit him. I don’t- [scoff] would it be fine as long as i don't kill him?” “it’s my rules” 

“Yea mapicc did get really excited when i mentioned pvp. That was really interesting. That was cool. I do have no critting yea. Hmmm. i dunno. I did just want to support my friend flame ‘you're just helping out a friend i think thats in the servers best interests’ (arch) that’s true. Yea. if i, i dunno, cause like the main goal is to just work in the server’s best interests. And i guess in that situation that, specific, little situation, fighting flame was actually in everyone, everyone who’s online’s best interests. Ironically. So yea. Despite it normally being the wrong answer, violence was kind of the answer to fixing that problem there. ” 

2:18:00  “I’m worried though. Like I feel like the lack of violence encourages me to like, i dunno” 

“I think people should be more violent, i think that’s fair, that’s what this server is about. I haven't changed my stance on that, the server is about killing people. It’s not about [giggle] the atrocities I’ve committed, that’s for sure” 

“‘That’s not very pacifist I mean’ like that’s whatever, it’s princezam then. It doesn’t matter. Pacifist is just the moniker I chose, but if it’s not fitting it’s not fitting. I’m doing whatever I believe” 

“‘the blowing up builds and killing weaklings was your more problem. not your violence inherently’ (arch) exactly. And unfortunately I feel like with any sort of violence [tsht] unfortunately all paths lead to that road. You know? Everything will just eventually get me there. I think it’s better to swear it off, you know. It’s just, It’s just for the better”

Flame blows up spawn.

2:52:00 “And my heart count too. I was trying to get to 20 but like - what does that even do, what is that even good for, if i can't do anythin- if i’m powerless to stuff like this, if i’m powerless to this. This. Like what’s the point, even like what’s-... I feel like everything I’ve done is just like actually completely futile now. Like, none of it matters. NONE of it matters, not even a little, if other people are just going to take up the mantle. What like, what’s the POINT?... I don't get it. I mean holding out, not giving in, despite all of this, would prove me as a way stronger player than him, but WHAT GOOD DOES THAT ACCOMPLISH. SO WHAT?! Like, he’s just going to do this again, like why does it matter? Why does it even matter? What the- what does moral highground get me? What does moral high ground even get me. Why did i think this was even a good idea even a little bit, [so loud] OH MY GOD. [pause] ‘It doesn't even mean anything to anyone but me’ (arch) exactly. This. oh my god. It’s not just to myself though (arch) it’s ahhh Fuck. It’s supposed to make up for everything I did- For just everything I did in general really. That’s what it’s supposed to be, but, like ah, does anyone care really? Does anyone care? Other than me? At this point I don't think so. There’s bigger problems. ‘Spawn looked the best this season’ it did. It really did. It really really did. It really did. [tabs out for a long time, just silent] i can't’ believe this. I can’t believe this. [sigh] oh my god. [leaning head back] Dude. and like. Oh my god. Yea no one is going to do anything that’s true. The fact of the matter is [laughing as talking] no one is going to do anything about this. Because no one cares. And that’s what he’s going to realize. [...] That’s all fine to me, it doesn't matter. It doesn’t matter. This is definitely the furthest I’ve wavered, on this path of mine. Dear god. [blows out breath] and i was the only one here to do anything about it oh my god [silence] ‘they did call me ground zero’ [puts head in hands while reading it] is it my fault? Is it my- wait you’re right. [breathing heavily] it kind of in a, in a weird, fucked up twisted way, it kind of is my fault. Because my stupid pacifism stuff it it spiraled out of control and got to woogie, got to pangi, it’s it’s like [grrr grumble] (all of chat is screaming that it isn't his fault.) I, oh my god. Oh my god. Dude like. I actually feel so dumb. I feel like I’ve wasted the past month or two. I’ve actually just feel like I’ve been wasting my time. Like, like none of that matters. Actually none of that matters, I feel like, anymore. And like, because I did all that, everyone else copied me. Everyone copied me, they were right! No, they were right. That’s the messed up part of this, is that they’re Right. And that they probably will get a fight out of this, that’s the Fucked up part of this” 

3:04:00 “If I fight them I give them exactly what they want. It’s so fucked up. There’s no, there's no winning option here. There’s nothing I can do to win” 

Realizes he can just rebuild. Rejuvenated in one second flat. 

“Do I just keep rebuilding it over and over? [...]  But I don’t care! I’m not giving up. I don't care, I don't care!” “this is literally what I do. What am I tripping for? This is literally what I do”

3:35:30 “I feel like most people would not have the mental fortitude to experience what I just experienced and then Not Fight. Like that is an absurd thing to do. But it’s a me thing to do. So” 

3:37:00 “i know i don't have all of my screws together, but i definitely, i think i could win a battle of mental fortitude if I wanted”

Talks to everyone and forms Gaia’s Hand

5:46:00 wrapping up stream along “dude I know like, i’m real confident and real happy and shit, but I , I am terrified. I am terrified [stares into a big cave thinking] i dunno. I'm not gonna second guess myself but. It’s just- it’s a scary battle. It’s a very scary battle. I dunno”

“Mean, I’m not alone. That's true. That definitely helps [...] I feel like the last time I spent a lot of time repairing spawn it didn't end too well. Lowkey that’s when everything went horribly wrong, actually. i feel like it’s just been downhill since there.”

“I am doing this to spite flame, but at the same time the thing I care about the most is just having the server where spawn can't just get destroyed. I dunno. That’s what I care about the most”

5:53:40 “‘you and your attachments to spawn’ (seri) [wistful] it’s, it’s the heart of the server. It’s the heart of the server. And, i dunno, I can’t, i can’t help myself but protect it. In every way that I can. I dunno. It’s just in my nature. Which is ironic, considering the atrocities I’ve committed.” 

8/29/24

44:30 “support the people trying to ban them and the builds won’t get destroyed anymore’ (chips) that’s true. But do the ends justify the means? Like sure I will get spawn builds being safe, but I’m, I also am taking some part in someone getting banned off the server. which, i dunno. I feel like i don't want to be a part of” 

45:00 “Is it for the greater good, or it for my greater good. It has to be objective, it can’t be a skewed biased point of view” 

1:05:20 “i can only control myself, and only the small few who have joined me” “kaboodle and woogie” “Ironically they’re truly the only ones who are part of gaia’s hand”

Week long break for MMCR

9/9/24

11:40 ZAM: “I’ve kind of realigned my look on the server [...] Everyone’s goal goes back to, like, killing. So I feel like if I help anyone I’m like sort of contributing to the violence on the server, which is something I- which I can’t prevent obviously but it’s not also something I’d like to contribute to. The whole point is I don't want to contribute to violence and you know, kill people I guess. I dunno” 

How far princezam has come. It was never about actual pacifism… except now it is. He truly is a pacifist now. He used to be a bad pacifist and now he’s just a pacifist for real. How interesting. 

19:00 “That’s just the spite and hatred in my heart. I’m full of hatred recently, that’s something i’ve noticed as well. Definitely something i’ve noticed” 

44:00 “I feel like nothing accomplishes anything. I feel like anything I would do would just make things worse. I dunno. Maybe that’s just me though. Maybe that's just me and the way I feel. I dunno” 

“I just want to win. You know? But how do I go about that even? There’s nothing to win against."

~1:27:00 “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind” “interesting phrase considering the circumstance I’m in. [...] yea i mean violence is good to those who love it. I’m just unfortunately not one of those people. At least at the moment. [pause] Well I wouldn't say at the moment actually. I would say I’m not one of those people. For sure. Used to be. Not anymore.” 

1:53:00  “when i think of goals, the first thing that comes to mind is like, laying in a field of flowers. That’s what I want to do. That’s what I want to do. I dunno”

9/11/24

~40:00 “it makes me question what my path is, cause i’m not, i’m not i’m not i’m not  i’m not a killer or anything at least i don't want to kill anyone, i don't want to be doing that. Soo where does that leave me?  What am I gonna do, what am I princezam gonna do.” 

[inbabylontheywept]

The Mormon Heretic Casts a Curse

So, this is a sequel piece to The Mormon Heretic and the Leviathan. @apolloendymion requested that I write some more of the stories, and this is another one. I'm going to put a trigger warning here that the story does involve partner abuse. Not from the heretic, but just... as a detail. Also, I guess, some medical stuff that involves death. It's Old Testament shit. Take it as you will.

Mormon seminary has four separate courses about the four separate parts of their canon. It’s on a constant rotation, and my particular ordering was Old Testament, then New Testament, then Book of Mormon, then Doctrine and Covenants. 

I got the Mormon Heretic for my OT year, which is 100% the best year I could have possibly got him for. And, also, absolutely the worst, because at that time I was a very orthodox Mormon, and this guy couldn’t have fucked with my brain worse if JFK’s dad gave him an icepick and a waiver. 

At that time I had an abysmal understanding of the OT, and to call my experience with it jarring would be an understatement. I learned that Elohim is a plural word. I learned that OT God itself doesn’t deny the existence of other Gods, and in fact relished challenging them to contests. The whole experience was so insane to me that I stayed after class one day to ask the teacher how he managed to bridge the divide between the OT and the NT. They're insanely different theologies, and he really refused to mince words about it.

He listened to my concerns, and I cried a little because I was fourteen and beginning to realize that there was something fundamentally wrong with the religion I was born into, and when it was all said and done he said that tomorrow he would teach the story of how he squared away the differences between OT God and NT God. 

And he did. 

I can remember having a sense that something was strange when we arrived at the building. There was a crosswalk where the exiting teenagers would pass the entering teenagers, and normally people would discuss the lesson as they passed. The group we passed just looked shell shocked. 

I sat down. The class arrived. Heretic stood up, and went to the front of the class, and he began his tale: 

He had a little sister that got married at nineteen. She then started making visits to the hospital. 

He, like his family, assumed that she was just clumsy. He was clumsy. He’d had multiple surgeries on his shoulders and his elbows and his knees because he kept doing dumb things to himself.

She was not clumsy. Her husband was beating her. 

She got a divorce. Heretic was old when the story was being told - I think in his early sixties? - and the divorce went shockingly well for the time. Sister was not blamed, husband was ostracized from both families, and life found a way to continue in its slow way. 

Heretic was, at that point, a new teacher in the Church Education System (CES). He was trying to be a spiritual guy, and teach spiritual lessons, but he just wasn’t doing a very good job because he was really, really, murderously angry with the guy that had hurt his sister. 

Sister had moved on. Or, he thought she had, he was hardly telepathic, but he felt like she’d let go and started her life anew, and her parents had supported her, and even her in laws had supported her, and things should have been easy to let go of, but they weren’t. And every day that he tried to let go, he got more and more angry, and every day he tried to pretend he was fine he ripped the wound wider, and one day he taught a spectacularly bad lesson and came home and wanted nothing more than to kill the man that had beat his sister. He instead said a prayer. I cannot quote it verbatim, but this is very, very close to what was said. “God, I know that I must forgive to be forgiven, but I want nothing more than to see that animal choke to death on his own shit.”(I know for a fact that the choke on shit part was in it. It is not a common thing to hear a seminary teacher say “shit” in the middle of class. It is also integral to the rest of the story) If this was a book, there would’ve been an immediate result, but instead Heretic felt a strange peace, grabbed ahold of it like a lifeline, and resolved to go to therapy. Which is how he got into Jungian analysis. Finding therapy in the deep South in 1980 was pretty wild. Jump cut forward to the early 2000s. Heretic has moved on. Sister is remarried. He is at peace with the world, but he gets a call from his sisters old in-laws. 

And the in-laws say that yes, they have ostracized the abuser for the last twenty years, but they got a call from him a few hours ago to please, meet him at the hospital, because he was sick. 

And the abuser was, in fact, very sick. He’d been vomiting for days. The doctors couldn’t figure out why, but they knew that at the present rate, they were running out of time. He was going to have some kind of exploratory surgery as a hail Mary, and the guy wanted a blessing first. 

And so the family had gone to Heretic, to ask him if he would be willing to bless the man that had beat his sister. It is one thing, to feel like you have forgiven someone enough to move on, and another to wish good things upon them. But Heretic had spent years and years in therapy, and he developed on an incredibly spiritual path, and he said that yes, he would bless the man before the surgery. 

And he did. 

The surgery found that the man had a benign mass in his colon. It wasn’t spreading, but it had grown large enough to prevent food from going around it. Without an exit, things had built up back to the entrance. The man was throwing up because there was nowhere else for the shit to go. Worse, during the surgery he thrown up and some of the mix had managed to drain back into the man’s lungs. He survived the knife, but the combination of fecal matter and acid inside his lungs had created an infection that he failed to survive. He drowned in his own fluids. 

He drowned in his own shit. 

Now, at that point, the class had no idea where this was going. We were a bunch of children, hearing a story about this insane divine retribution, but the Heretic continued. 

And with tears in his eyes, he told us that God had answered his original prayer only after he had fully and truly forgiven that man. That if he’d wished death on another human being in anger, in rage, and then received it, it would have damned his soul, but that as soon as he was at peace, as soon as he could wish life and love upon the man that had wronged his kin, justice could be brought down. And be believed it, with his entire heart. He spoke about how God wants to give us what we want, but that he loves us so much that we will not give it to us until we have reached the point where it is not poison to us. We will have our revenge, but only when it is meaningless to us. When the only lesson that could be grabbed from it is that God heard us the first time, and held back out of love. Then, we will see those who had wronged us choke on their shit.  

The bell rang after that, and we left the class in a daze. When we went across the crosswalk, no one spoke a word to the students crossing the opposite way. We were all too busy thinking. 

[y-rhywbeth2]

Incidentally, if you've ever wanted your Durge to fight like Bhaal for some reason - or would like to have Bhaal hunt them down in person if they resisted him - Bhaal's usual in-person tactics are wandering the area in stealth assassinating a bunch of guards (usually sowing panic, sometimes allowing them to scream leaving the bodies on display or even giving them a slow death so their comrades can watch them die) and then entering open combat with what little is left and then just really casually killing them all.

Knives is good, but killing people with your bare hands is best. Never be ashamed to just fucking punch people.

Bhaal also flat out doesn't care about healing, as you may have seen in the feral ending, and will keep fighting until the physical body collapses. Also gets more aggressive when an opponent manages to land a hit: he kills you, not the other way around.

Furthermore: be unkillable. Just fucking refuse to die no matter how many killing blows your opponents give you until they're literally yelling 'why won't you die??' at you. So ultimately all hitting Bhaal back does is make him murder you harder.

For textual illustrations, I collected some sections of Bhaal's fight/assassin scenes because I could. Also Cyric and his beloved pony:

"There's something beyond the outer curtain," he said, trying to gain Cyric's interest. He removed his scabbard and placed it upon the dusty banquet table. "Or so the watch says." Cyric had little concern for what lurked outside the walls to frighten his men. He decided to change the subject and asked, "How is my pony? That fellow carried me well, considering how hard I rode." "With rest it'll recover - provided someone doesn't kill it first," Dalzhel said, returning to the fireplace. "There are those who grumble that it has eaten better than the men." "It's proven more use!" Cyric snapped. The pony had carried him nearly one hundred and fifty miles over the last three days. A war-horse could not have done better. He considered threatening death to anyone who touched the pony, but rejected the idea. The order would breed resentment, and someone might take up the challenge.

You hear that, Cyric. 'Someone.'

I like to imagine Mask is laughing her head off in this scene, considering she's almost definitely aware of Bhaal lurking in the shadows spying for Myrkul and murdering two guys and listening to this conversation, and she knows exactly what he's going to do having heard that.

Sometimes Bhaal doesn't even kill them. Immediately.

Two of the men were pointedly looking away from the well. Since it still provided water, it was the one item the castle's periodic inhabitants kept in good repair. A moan, low-pitched and feral, issued from the well's depths. Tied to the blood-smeared crossbar was a gray cord that descended into the dark pit. Dalzhel stepped forward and grabbed the cord. Without speaking, he began to pull. An anguished scream rang out deep down the well. Dalzhel allowed the cry tocontinue for several seconds before dropping the cord. "What was that?" Cyric asked, peering into the black depths. "Edan, we think," Dalzhel reported. "He's still alive," Fane added informatively. "Every time we try to pull him up, he screams." Though he had seen many slow deaths, and had caused one or two himself, Cyric's stomach turned as he tried to imagine what had happened at the other end of the rope.

Cyric peered inside. Alrik faced the corner, kneeling in a pool of his own blood. He held his hands cupped in front of his stomach. A barbed, wooden tip protruded from his lower back, suggesting that a stake had been driven through his body. Because of the barbs, the stake could not be removed without dragging Alrik's intestines out with it.

"No!" A high screech followed. It did not fade, even after the man's throat should have gone hoarse. Cyric turned toward the gatehouse, unsure of what he would find. Few humans were capable of the efficient brutality with which Alrik and Edan had been tortured. Still, the thief moved at his best pace. If he appeared frightened of the murderer, his men would no longer be afraid of him - and that was an invitation for mutiny - Dalzhel and Fane followed close behind. By the time they reached the gatehouse, the scream was no longer audible. A dozen men had gathered in the stairwell, standing in a line running up to the second floor. Their torches cast a flickering yellow light on the walls. The men did not even notice Cyric when he arrived, so Fane bellowed, "Out of the way! Stand aside!" When the onlookers made no move to obey, Fane muscled a path up the stairway. Cyric and Dalzhel followed, eventually reaching a doorway. Five men stood inside, staring at a crumpled form in the center of the room. A dark pool was spreading about their feet, and the barest whisper of a croak came from the shape on the floor.

-

Cyric and his lieutenant were thinking along the same lines. During his life, Cyric had known many evil men. Not one was capable of what he had seen tonight. "Have the men gather in groups of six," the thief ordered. "One group in the great hall-" A terrified whinny sounded from outside, interrupting the instructions. "The stable," Dalzhel observed. The men mumbled, but stood still and waited for their orders. Again, the pony whinnied, this time sending chills down Cyric's spine. "We'd better have a look," he said, cringing at the thought of what they would find. The men on the stairs reluctantly started to ward the stable, Cyric and Dalzhel close behind. By the time the hawk-nosed man reached the ground floor, the pony was quiet. As Cyric stepped into the courtyard, a ghostly wail whistled through the castle. Outside the stable, ten men stood with their swords drawn, peering inside and clearly reluctant to enter. Cyric slopped his way across the ward and pushed them aside. Grabbing a torch, he entered the stable, his sword arm aching with the desire to lash out at something. The pony lay dead in its stall, a withered and puckered hole over its heart. The lips of its muzzle were twisted back in horror, and one eye stared directly at Cyric. Dalzhel approached and stood next to his commander. For a moment, he observed in silence, wondering whether or not Cyric was mourning the beast's death. Then he noticed something on the beam over the stall. "Look!" A circle of drops had been drawn in blood. Cyric had little trouble recognizing the Circle of Tears.

This is exactly how I play BG3 from the perspective of areas full of not-yet-hostile enemies:

"Milord, Captain Beresford bids me inform you that two guards are absent from the outer curtain." Deverell frowned then asked, "Is it still raining?" The page nodded. "Aye. The drops are as red as blood and as cold as ice." The boy could not keep his fear from showing itself in his voice. Deverell stopped whispering. "Then tell Beresford to worry no more, and we'll discipline the derelicts come morning. I've no doubt the guards are hiding from the strange weather." [...] The page entered again and approached Lord Deverell. In the room's silence, it was impossible not to hear his whisper. "Milord, Captain Beresford orders me report the absence of three sentries from the inner curtain." "The inner curtain?" Deverell exclaimed. "There, too?"

-

The halfling had no idea what it was that the guards were fighting, but he knew that it had torn through them with frightening speed. [...] The guards knew little more about their opponent than Sneakabout. Orrel had seen something crawl down a dark corner of the inner wall. A moment later, a timid-looking man had stepped out of the shadows and walked nonchalantly to the keep's entrance. Orrel and another guard had stepped out of the foyer to challenge him. He had knocked their halberds aside, then slipped a dagger out of his sleeve and killed them both with a single, long slash. A third guard had yelled an alarm, which had also proven fatal. The stranger had thrown a dagger through the guard's throat, silencing him in midscream. Fitch, the sergeant, had ordered the survivors to retreat inside. He felt foolish for running from a lone attacker, but the smooth efficiency with which the man killed left no doubt that he was no ordinary assassin. Because their assignment was to protect the keep tower, Fitch thought it wisest to retreat and bar the door, then send a man to call for help. His strategy didn't work. The doors were thick and heavy, designed for strength instead of manoeuvrability. As the sergeant and a guard pushed them into place, the stranger stepped out of the foyer. The guard died an instant later, the attacker's fingers wrapped around his larynx. Brandishing his sword, Sergeant Fitch yelled his last order to the men on the stairs. "In Azoun's name, keep him downstairs!"

To Adon's left, the stairs descended in a gentle, clockwise spiral. Five feet down, another torch hung in a sconce, casting its dingy light upon the cold stone steps. Where the stairwell curved out of sight, the shadows of four Cormyrians were retreating up the stairs. Each silhouette held a polearm. Judging from the shadows, it appeared a single man was pursuing them. One of the Cormyrian silhouettes lunged. A flurry of activity followed then a weak chuckle rolled up the stairs. An instant later, a man screamed in agony. The other three guards retreated another step. Their chain-mailed backs were visible to Adon now, but the attacker remained unseen. Adon could not believe a single man pressed so fiercely, but the shadow appeared to be nothing more. [...] A clamor arose outside the tower as word spread that the keep was under attack. The tattoo-headed man turned to listen for an instant then calmly returned his gaze to the two guards in front of him. The stranger stepped forward, slapping their halberds aside as if the weapons were no more than sticks.

He also has stupidly high AC:

The remaining live soldier shifted to the other side of the landing, then raised his sword. The guard was deliberately giving the god an opening so Adon could attack. Heedless of the trap, Bhaal stepped forward, and Adon swung his mace at the avatar's head. The god easily ducked the blow. Before the Cormyrian could slash, however, the Lord of Murder punched him in the abdomen. The man barely retained his balance and stumbled back on the landing [...] The Cormyrian obliged with a vicious overhead slash. Bhaal sidestepped it easily, moving backward toward Midnight's chamber. The magic-user's door flew open. Midnight stood in the entrance to her room, dagger in hand. She had been watching the battle in silence, cursing the loss of her spellbook and waiting for an opportunity to strike. Finally, it had come. She thrust the blade into the avatar's back. Bhaal's eyes widened in surprise. He started to turn, and Adon seized the chance for an easy attack, smashing his mace into the avatar's ribs. The god's knees buckled and he tumbled down the stairs, roaring in a rage. The avatar came to rest six steps down, Midnight's dagger still planted in his back. "Is he dead?" Midnight asked. Bhaal rose and glared at the magic-user, cursing in a language no human could duplicate. Without paying any attention to his wounds, the Lord of Murder jumped for the landing. The Cormyrian yelled and leaped to meet the avatar, blade flashing. Bhaal met the guard in midair, blocking the soldier's swordarm with a bone-crunching blow and simultaneously driving his fingers into the man's throat. The avatar reached the landing with the guard's gasping body in his hands, then dropped the corpse down the stairs without a second thought.

Bhaal lifted a hand and felt the wound. His fingers came away bloody. Without so much as turning around, he kicked backward, catching the cleric in the ribs. Adon flew into his chamber, crashed into his bed, then crumpled to the floor gasping for breath and wondering how he would ever pick himself up.

If you don't have a knife at hand, stabbing them with your own broken wrist bone is fine:

Without warning, Bhaal stopped and spun on his pursuer, jabbing at Cyric with the sharp bone protruding from his severed wrist. The fallen god followed the jab with an open-handed strike from his other hand. [...] Cyric was at Bhaal's back. The thief attacked with a vicious slash he hoped would cleave the avatar down to the breast bone. But Bhaal heard him coming and, easily breaking free of Dalzhel's hold, pivoted out of the way. The God of Assassins caught Cyric's arm, then used the thief's own momentum to throw him ten feet into the brush. As Cyric sailed past, Dalzhel snatched his sword off the ground then plunged the blade into the avatar's rib cage. Bhaal snarled and kicked the Zhentish soldier in the stomach.Dalzhel fell backward and landed with a crash. The Lord of Murder casually plucked Dalzhel's sword from between his ribs and tossed it aside. Then he leaped onto his opponent's prone form, thrusting the splintered stump of his wrist into Dalzhel's throat. Dalzhel screamed once then fell quiet.

Just wholesale beating the living daylights out of an opponent is also good, and I think this might be one of Bhaal's favourite memories (and fyi Cyric did not win the fight between them. Mask did):

Cyric slashed. Bhaal easily dodged, slapping the thief's sword hand aside. Cyric kicked, hoping to keep his attacker away. The avatar blocked the foot, then stepped in close and clipped his opponent's jaw with a fist as hard as stone. Cyric's ears rang and his head swam. He tried to swing his sword, but Bhaal hit him once more. The thief felt his body going limp. The Lord of Murder struck his jaw again, then his stomach, then continued pummeling Cyric until he dropped his weapon and flopped to the ground in a half-conscious heap. While Bhaal battered Cyric, Adon and Kelemvor rushed toward Midnight.

[prozacwhorehouse]

hey babe! me again. wanted to know if you could write a little blurb or whatever about zeke getting into a fight over the reader. like a guy has been trying to put the moves on her and he’s had enough. thanks a bunch and only do it if you want to 😘

this is for you ml!!

idiot (zeke tyler x reader)

warnings: sexual harassment, physical violence, mention of drugs, other than that just fluff

also like so not proofread sorryyy

you need a drink right now.

you can feel the bass of the music vibrating in your ears, shaking your skull. warm bodies are smushed together, splashes of various drinks splash on to the floor at random intervals. but you promised Delilah you’d come, so here you are.

zeke leads you through the crowds with a hand on the small of your back, stopping in the kitchen.

“if that asshole starts bothering you, just come find me, m’kay?” he raises his brows, waiting for your acknowledgement. that asshole would be Mike.

Mike didn’t seem to understand the different between yes and no. he’d been attempting to pursue you since before you and zeke got together. after you started dating, his harassment became more casual, but he got worse when zeke wasn’t around. when you told him, you genuinely thought he was going to kill Mike. he doesn’t understand why he can’t get it through his fucking head that she’s with him, and she doesn’t want him. she never wanted him. you make him promise not to do anything stupid.

“he won’t bother me,” you insist. “not with you here.” he’s not quite sure he believes that, but he bites his tongue and nods, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“wait,” you stop him, grabbing his arm. he leans down to your level, cocking his head to be able to hear you over the loud music. this makes you want to forget the promise you’d made to Delilah, pretend you were never there, say you were sick, go back to your house with zeke and fuck senseless.

“my house after?” you plead at him with doe eyes, hopeful grin on your face. he would never say no.

“of course,” he smiles, cupping your cheeks to kiss you before leaving to make sales. the day he gets caught is the day he owes you all his earnings - you bet on it.

-

“listen Mike, I’m sure some day you’ll find a lovely girl who loves harassment just as much as you do. But it won’t be me. I’m with zeke,” you put emphasis on his name, “I’m not interested.” you attempt to walk away, but his hands catch your waist. alcohol and all, his grip on your hips becomes firmer as he tries to steady himself, impaired motor coordination causing him to stumble.

“come on, babe. just one date,” he slurs, the alcohol in his system very apparent. disgust spreads across your face, and you’re positive you’re about to gag. “such a disgusting excuse for a man,” you spit, ripping his hands from your waist. zeke appears from the crowd, having seen mikes hands on you from across the room.

“Alright man, that’s enough. Back off,” he scoffs stepping between you two, his smirk almost a warning. he’s trying to mask his rage, remembering his promise to you not do anything a moron would do. your words, not his.

“Let’s just go,” you sigh, tugging on his bicep like a child tugs on their mother’s skirt.

“One second,” he shakes you off, returning his attention to Mike.

“No, zeke, lets go,” you say sternly, this time jerking his arm harsher.

“You’re having a good time, there’s no reason this jackass should ruin it for you,” he glares,

“I swear to god, zeke, I’m not doing this right now,” you seethe, the look in your eye saying stop. It.

he tenses his jaw before reluctantly agreeing.

“what? scared of someone fucking your bitch getting fucked like she deserves?” Mike opens his arm, challenging zeke.

“fuck it,” he mutters, quickly whipping around and landing a hard punch on mikes cheek, causing his body to spin in that direction and collapse onto the floor.

“oh jesus,” you groan in annoyance, throwing your arms up in the air. it’s funny - everyone is floored, but you’re just annoyed. you’d think it was a common occurrence for the both of you by your reaction.

“you’re an idiot,” you scold, platforms clomping on the street. zekes following close behind you, eyeing your frame that glows with each passing of an streetlamp.

“why? he was all over you, and-“

“I’m a big girl, zeke. i can handle myself,” you huff, rolling your eyes, continuing to make your way down the street to his car. he knows this. of course you can handle yourself, you’re the toughest girl he knows. he just can’t help but want to protect you.

“hey hey, stop,” he gently catches your wrist, spinning you around. “quit it. it’s my job- i know you, and i can see when you’re uncomfortable. what kind of boyfriend would i be if i just let that happen?” he quirks his eyebrow, a smirk forming at the corners of his lips.

you dramatically sigh, dropping your head and kicking the dirt under your shoe. “a pretty shitty one, i guess,” you bite your lip, corners turning into a smile, looking up to meet his gaze.

“there she is,” he huffs out a laugh, pulling you in by the waist. playfully you squirm, hands on his biceps attempting to free yourself, but you both know you aren’t going anywhere. “plus, you’re my girl. fuckin’ hate seeing guys do that to you,” he says hurriedly before kissing you, hoping to quickly move past his jealous statement. but you catch it of course, catching his lips with your finger and pressing them away from yours. “ding ding ding,” you tease, confirming your suspicion of his envy, “there it is. you’re jealous.”

“stop being jealous,” you whisper against his lips, grazing them slightly. “I’m all yours.” you close the small gap between you, sighing into the kiss. his lips are so soft, they always are, which is unfair because no matter how much chapstick or lipgloss you use, it doesn’t work on you like it does zeke, which he only “uses” when it’s rubbing off on his lips while kissing you.

“Wouldn’t you do the same if some girl tried to make moves on me?” He breaks the kiss to reason, raising his eyebrows.

“No, because people are scared of you, zeke,” you run your finger along his jawline, huffing out a laugh. “Plus, girls know I could ruin them socially. And that’s worse than a physical fight.” he laughs and nods, cause he knows you’re right. in another universe, your mouth could probably get you killed. but in this one, he loves the quick remarks of his kick ass girlfriend.

“you’re amazing, you know that?”

this is lowk shit im sos sorry

[rainybubbles]

When COD men realize their crush on you

Ghost, Soap, Price, Gaz, Alejandro

Part 1 if you want more context to understand

G H O S T

Remind : you're a cashier and a strange man came every day at 2AM to buy ropes.

-After questioning if this masked man was here to hurt you or just to do some things with the ropes he bought, you have started a staring contest with him.

-Which was a bad idea because he didn't blink.

-At all.

-Which was scary.

-But you acknowledged your defeats, each time, by letting your employee discount to him on the ropes.

-It's not like you'll need one.

-Isn't it ?

-It was entertaining for the both of you, this little challenge when he was entering in the shop, and the small talk when he made his purchase.

-(It was more him nodding while you said "hi" but...yeah it's a talk.)

-But what is worse than one client buying rope and scissors at 2 am ?

-Two clients doing it.

-An another man did the same thing but with some knives and ropes.

-The first thing that came to your mind was "what is going on in this fucking town ?"

-And...

-"Sir, is there any bondage club you go with this guy ?"

-...yeah.

-It was the only solution to buy this much ropes.

-Or maybe he was his twin ?

-But the only answer Ghost gave you was a frown of his eyebrows.

-He seemed a little worried.

-You laughed trying to clear up the mood because it was clear your joke wasn't funny to him at all.

-And...

-Ghost disappeared.

-Guess he's not scared about killing people or doing stare contest with you but a bad joke could make him run away.

-Damn, you felt like you were back to 12 during school where just being yourself felt like a burn.

-You fucked up the only thing that distracted you a little.

-But Y/N remind the other guy ?

-Yeah knives one.

-He...-Unlike Ghost he gave you bad chills.

-He was smiling at you, asking you personal questions that feels too personal.

-Such as your hand size or even if you have good relationship with your family.

-You tried being professional, ignoring him.

-But slowly you had the impression he was everywhere you go.

-So...you quit.

-And you found a job in a pet shop.

-It was okay.

-That was the problem.

-It was okay.

-And not...weird or fun like your little meetings with Ghost were.

-One morning while you started your shift, you saw on the checkout 2kg of rat poison.

-You stared the thing because how many cold cases did you have seen with this poison ?

-You looked up slowly and...

-"Fuck Sir. I don't know if I should worry about you or me at this point"

-"Good to see you again, Y/N" Ghost said.

-You smiled.

-"Yeah. Good to see you again too."

-You didn't know what to say, so you let him pay.

-But when your shift ended, you saw a figure with a mask.

-"So you're here to wait for your victim, or are you so impatient to see me again ?"

-"Who said you're not my victim ?"

-"...my mom"

-"I didn't meet her."

-"Me too and well, now we have a common point so you can't kill me."

-"That-" he sighed."That's not how it works you know ?"

-"It seems to work for me, I'm still breathing."

-"...you're a case Y/N."

-"I know, I mean it seems like men with an obsession rope are attracted to me. "

-"Men ?" he repeated, hearing the plural.

-"Yeah the other guy he...he was kind of a creep. That's why I'm here now. "

-He seemed to think about it.

-"Do you want me to go home with you ?", he asked, worry to let you alone.

-"That's sound creepy you know."

-"That's why I ask, if you don't want to, I'm leaving."

-You stared at him.

-"I...I would love to but-"

-"I understand." he said cutting you

-"Wait, let me finish. I would love to but actually I'm fucking hungry so I don't plan to go home. I want to buy some food."

-"Okay."

-"But Thursday I'm free if you know, you want to become my personal bodyguard and disappear again mysteriously."

-He nodded.

-He didn't know how he felt about you.

-But one thing was sure, when he was at the base he was searching for one thing : your eyes.

-And just this tells him it was to late to step back.

S O A P :

-So after complimenting your father's ass in French, he ended up to ask you if you could teach him

French.

-But you're not a charity.

-So you said that if he wanted some French lessons, he had to give you something.

-In reality you just think about some food, like his dessert because the military food was not the best except the biscuits.

-But he proposed some anecdotes.

-About his team.

-Each lesson will be about one secret about the 141.

-You could have said, "no, Soap, it's too private and we're professional."

-Yeah.

-But you're Y/N.

-A human.

-Who loves gossips.

-So you accepted.

-And slowly every night after you taught him French, you learned how Price ended up in underwear on a roof in Siberia, or how Ghost almost married a grandma accidentally during an infiltration, or Gaz became bald when he tried bleaching his hair.

-It was cozy.

-Those nights were the best.

-You were chatting next to a fire, while the Scottish man was narrating you with his accent and gestures his stories.

-You had this impression to be in those teen movies where the guy seduces the main character with his guitar on the beach near to a camp fire.

-Except that you were on a military basis, with Ghost checking you (or intimidating you, you couldn’t tell).

-And the only music was Price's snore and some soldiers farts.

-Which by the way could awaking a dead.

-Yeah, it was fun for the both of you.

-Until the sounds of your laugh were replaced by the silence.

-You were only a translator.

-And your mission was done.

-So you left.

-And Soap turned out to be alone again during those nights.

-He's not alone in fact.

-The 141 is here.

-But he feels lonesome.

-During his insomnias he could find you and pretend he had one more story he had absolutely to tell you, while in reality he just wanted to hear your laugh to feel this...this peace. But you’re not here anymore.

-Hearing you was like....like peace, yeah. He didn't have any other words to describe it.

-"I should call them, isn't it ?" he murmured to himself.

-"If you don't. I'll kill them. Nobody alive should know about Giselle." Ghost answered.

-Soap smiled.

-"You just say that because you miss them too L.T. "

-Yeah, he should definitely call you.

P R I C E :

-A child.

-It was a child they saved during a mission and that you had patched up, he looked at him and-

-"You suck at being nice with them. I'm going marrying them before you."

-Price blinked his eyes.

-"Someone seems to have competition here." Gaz joked.

-Price just stared the kid.

-His first thought was "Language, kid."

-And...

-Was he so obvious ?

-He knew he had something for you.

-He's not that stubborn to deny an attraction.

-But he also knew that involving someone in his life will be complicated.

-So he didn't do anything to show his feelings.

-But it seems that even an unknown 8y.o kid could tell he likes you.

-"You know what kid ? Yeah I suck at this. But even if I did, just see them smile at me is enough to highlight my day."

-The little boy was surprised at this confession.

-"I could help you, I mean....I got my best friends wedded at school, so I'm kinda a love expert." he said self-confident.

-"Is that so ?" Price smiled, amused by him

-"Yeah. The first thing is giving a gift. Thomas, my best friend he gave Leo some Pokemon cards and he had a hug. Maybe if you do the same, Y/N will hug you."

-Gaz and Soap laughed their ass off as the kid continues listing his techniques.

-But...the next day you found at your office some Pokemon cards.

-And chocolates.

-With a little note.

-Maybe Price should let himself expressing as openly his feelings as this kid express honestly his thoughts.

(even though the Pokemon cards were not his, Soap and Gaz just found it funny to put them when they saw the chocolates)

G A Z

-After your kiss undercover, you didn't see each other.

-You didn't talk about it even if you both had dreams about it.

-And time passed.

-And on this Tuesday morning while you were chatting with your neighbor, because you finally came back home, she decided to set you up on a blind date.

-Telling she had a wonderful grandson, kind, nice and-

-You said yes.

-And you regretted it.

-Because her grandson was undoubtedly the stereotype of the "nice guy" who complained how nobody loves a nice guy nowadays.

-You tried giving him a chance, but the longer the dinner went, the longer you wanted to strangle him or beat him up between the cookies and the turkey.

-"I think they had to leave, sir," a voice said.

-Your date frowned his brows.

-"No I don't think so, we're only at the starter !" he answered to the waiter.

-You didn't listen.

-Your eyes were glued to the said waiter who was none other that Gaz himself.

-"I promised you; we have a call by their mother. They have to go at the hospital, so please stop shouting."

-"I DIDN'T SCREAM, AND I'M SURE YOU'RE LYING BECAUSE YOU'RE A JEALOUS -ASSHOLE. THEIR MOTHER COULD WAIT, WE'RE HAVING A FUCKING DATE"

-Well.

-Remember the turkey.

-He ate it.

-By his nose.

-You stood up and punched him.

-"Fucking finally, I don't hear your shitty thoughts anymore." you sighed of relief.

-Gaz smirked while you both left the restaurant.

-"I guess it's a mission?," you asked.

-"Yes, we tried to contact you, but you didn't answer."

-"He took my phone saying "it's only us", kinda romantic at first until he starts speaking."

-"He didn't want you to runaway." Gaz realized.

-"Scary."

-He nodded.

-You walked with him at the car waiting for you with your baggages already there.

-"I'm surprised you didn't make any jokes about the turkey.", you asked.

-"Because I was too concentrated on the fact that I was kinda relieved, your date was..."

-"Shitty? Horrible? Terrible?"

-"I would say, "not good", but yeah," he admitted.

-"Want to take me on a good date then, Garrick ?" you asked with a smirk.

-"Yeah. But no kiss at the first date, sorry Y/N.", he joked

-"Too bad we already kiss then." you answered with the same irony.

-"Yeah it seems we have to kiss again on the first date.",

-"Wow that's so terrible, I don't know if I could survive."

-"Wait after the mission to know."

-"Just don't bring a turkey." you said.

-"Promise, I don't."

-He did it, he brought a fucking turkey.

-And he asked Price how to cook one, just to mock you during your date.

A L E J A N D R O :

-Through reports.

-After you put microphones on him, the mission ended. And you had to complete the list of what you had used, how did it worked, in order to help the company to improve the equipment and the gear.

-Little do you know this report also went to Alejandro's desk, who saw the occasion to thank you for your hard work.

-You replied with a note, saying it was your job.

-He answered you could have said no and...

-Every mission you had together ended up with some exchanges through your reports.

-But only through papers...

-Because when you were seeing him on the base, you were unable to put words without stuttering, or even talking to him like a human being. Too anxious to approach him.

-And it was okay.

-You had a friendship with the Alejandro Vargas that you had seen in a bunny outfit, and it was perfectly okay.

-Yeah.

-But your brain decided to make up some scenarios.

-You were already attracted to him.

-He's gorgeous.

-But now you knew him a little bit more.

-And you were fucked.

-That's why on the last report. You decided to imitate your dad : you ran away and bought milk.

-Cut everything to put some distance.

-You accepted a mission on another basis and...

-And that's how you were supposed to stop feeling this sparkle about him.

-But you didn't.

-And now it was too late to try to even pursue your friendship with him with what you had done.

-"I fucked up," you whispered to yourself while you were listening to a military audio you had to write down.

-"Well, if it's not our favorite technician," a raspy voice said suddenly to your ears.

-Awoop.

-Jumpscare.

-You felt down and looked up to see the 141, Alejandro and Rudy.

-"What the fuck is happening, why are you in France-"

-"We worked with this unit. We have an enemy in common who is helping the cartel. After we had all we want, Alejandro will interrogate him to have information about the relationship they had with the cartel." Lasswell explained.

-You nodded.

-You didn't know what else you could do.

-Until you felt something on your wrist.

-' Mind if we talk, cielo ?"

-Yes.

-But you just nodded again and followed him, ready to be eaten up alive.

-"Listen Alejandro; I didn't want to be an asshole, I fucked up and-"

-He interrupted you.

-"Calmos. You had your reasons. and-"

-"And there was no reason, I was just scared." you interrupted him.

-"Scared ?" he asked.

-"Yes, I...I had a crush on you. And all the crushes I had didn't end well. I mean the last one dies, before he had a fiancé, before this before they used me to make jealous his ex and before this before and this before he said I was only a 4/10 and-"

-"They're just fucking pendejos."

-"Except the one who dies." you corrected him

-"Except the one who dies, I guess. But it's not because it happened, that it will be like that again."

-"Please Alejandro, you're like...Like a main character of a badass series. And I'm..."

-"The main character of a badass series too, cielo. I wanted to ask you on a date since day one. Rudy stops me because you were a civilian."

-"I work with military every day."

-"I know, but I have to make sure you knew the life we lived if we start a relationship. I wanted to know you before starting something."

-"And when I ran away, you-"

-"I had bought roses to ask you on a date, the day you left."

-"...fuck." you said realizing the consequences of your actions

-He laughed.

-"Yeah you can say that. But I was sure that if you did something like this, it was probably because you thought about it."

-"Well, surprise I'm not clever. I'm just a wimp."

-"We called that un gallina."

-"Well a gallina, then. I'm sorry for the roses, the reports and everything really."

-"You could make it up, if you accept the roses, cielo, you know ?."

-You opened your eyes wide.

-"Wait you-"

-"When I like someone, it's with my whole heart, cielo. So yes, I still want a date."

-"...how am I this lucky?"

-" I could say the same."

-You laughed.

-"Yeah, I- Yes I would love a date with you Alejandro."

Sorry for the mistakes, English and Spanish are not my mother tongue :(!

If you want more : my masterlist

[imightgetbetter]

One More Story

wow, guess who's made a return after all! hi guys. long time no see. i have missed you all, and i have missed matty and the missus more. i'm trying to get back into the swing of writing for some self care and i hope to be more active at night after work to do that. please be gentle with this quick little piece about how matty and the missus met, i just wanted something short and sweet. i'm going to try and do the challenge @abiiors is doing, so you should see some more writing from me in the coming weeks. as always, reblog and share and send me your thoughts. i love you all. <;33

“Daddy?”

Matty turns around to see Attie perched up against her pillows, her blanket falling heavily around her waist and her tiny arms clutching the teddy bear she can’t quite sleep without just yet. He just tucked her in, gave her exactly seven kisses (all around the perimeter of her face, as he’s been doing since she was a baby), and told her he loved her and that he would be in bright and early to get her ready for school. He’s been with Attie mainly while Lennon is struggling with the Trying Twos, a time that has been marked in the Healy household as Hell On Earth, with Lennon strictly wanting her mother and screaming bloody murder if Matty tries to take her away for even a second. Matty is taking advantage of the one-on-one time, though. He knows his little girl will not be little forever, and the thought alone is enough to kill him, or make him down an entire bottle of wine in one sitting. “Yeah, baby?”

“Can you tell me one more story? I promise I’ll go to bed right after.”

Matty tilts his head, looking at his daughter with hooded eyes, a smirk playing on his lips as she mimics his facial expression. “You can’t give me that face, Attie James. It’s time for bed. You have school tomorrow.”

“Just one story, Daddy! I’ll even close my eyes while you tell it. Promise.”

Matty can feel himself giving in, and by the quietness echoing through the halls, he can tell that you’ve gotten Lennon down for bed. A win for the both of you, this evening. Matty hums to himself in consideration, and when he hears your shower sputter on, and no instant baby screams, he concedes. “Okay. What story do you want to read? If You Give A Mouse A Cookie, again?”

“I want you to tell me how you and Mummy met.”

“Why do you want to hear that story?”

“Well,” Attie begins, moving her teddy bear to between her crossed legs, the dramatization already beginning. It’s something she’s inherited from you, Matty supposes. “Mummy and Uncle Adam were telling me about how when you were little you used to tease Mummy all the time and that meant you liked her and there’s this boy at school that teases me and I just want to know if it’s the same thing.”

Matty feels a surge of emotions filter through him for his little girl, and he smiles. He pokes his head into the hall to ensure that Lennon isn’t awake and you aren’t looking for him, and when he’s made sure the coast is clear, he nods his head and turns the light back on, walking towards her bed that is much too big for her, right now, and taking a seat beside her. “What’s this boy’s name? Do I need to come have a chat with him?”

“No, Daddy. I think he’s just being silly. But I want to make sure he doesn’t like me, ‘cause if he does,” she pauses, “yuck.”

Matty smirks, “That’s right, yuck. Boys are yucky.”

“You’re a boy, Daddy! And so are Uncle Adam, and Uncle George, and Uncle Ross. And Uncle Louis! And Grandpa!”

“That’s exactly how I know we’re yucky.”

Attie rolls her eyes and shakes her head, pulling her teddy bear into her arms and cuddling into Matty’s open side, tilting her head ever so slightly to have her honey eyes meet his. “Tell me the story, pretty please?”

“Okay, okay,” he smiles, wrapping his arm around her and kissing her hair, his fingertips brushing through the wet curls, her tiny little breaths hitting his arm. “It all started the day Mummy moved in across the street…”

///

It started off like any other day.

Ross, George, and Adam were all sat around Matty’s room, fumbling around with a baby joint and a lighter. George and Ross were talking about girl they both thought was hot in their year, Adam preoccupied with his “girlfriend” – what could a girlfriend really be at fourteen – and Matty had one thing on his mind, besides the joint in between his fingers. He had seen this girl a few times around school, but never caught her name. She was in their year, in a few of George’s classes. Matty passed her in the corridor and saw her at lunch. She kept to herself, usually opting for a book and a highlighter rather than a group of uniformed friends.

Matty hadn’t said anything to the guys just yet, but they could tell something, or someone was on his mind. They were his best friends, after all. They could tell. Especially when he stopped ogling the English teacher and started actually doing the readings for the one class that they all shared together.

“Boys! You need to come downstairs! We’re going to say hi to the new neighbors!” Denise called from the bottom of the steps, her footsteps growing closer and the boys scrambling to hide the weed and look semi-presentable. “Really boys?”

Matty looks at her wide-eyed and shrugs, standing to his feet and shaking his mop of curls out in the mirror. “I’m good to go.”

“Oh dear,” his mother hums, shaking her head and clicking her tongue as she turns on her heel and begins descending down the stairs, tallying the boys one by one as they exit the front door and make their way across the street.

Matty nearly stops in his tracks when he sees you standing in the doorway with a stack of books in your arms. George bumps into him, “Move, Matty. You’re in the middle of the street.” George’s eyes follow the trail of what Matty is staring at and it all clicks. “She’s the girl you have a thing for? YN?” George nudges Adam, Adam nods at Ross. “That makes so much sense, now.”

“Shut up.”

“Come on, boys. I’ll introduce you. Their daughter goes to your school.”

“YN is in our English class, Denise,” Ross says with a smile, walking ahead of Matty and chatting nonsense to his mother, always the courteous one.

“She’s way out of your league, Matty,” George says with a laugh. “You do realize she’s not a delinquent, right?”

“I’m aware. Thank you. But I can make a good impression. I can do that.” Matty shakes his head and picks up his pace, walking alongside his mother and plastering smile on his face to introduce himself to your parents and you, formally at least.

Denise introduces herself and Matty, shaking their hands and begin to chat small talk about the neighborhood, the area, and the school, and as Matty pretends to listen, his eyes are scanning around for you somewhere around the house.

And then it happens.

Matty sees you.

And when he sees you, it feels like a moment in a cliché movie, where time has stopped, and he knew that something was different about you. You were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen up close, in person, in the flesh. He felt his mouth go dry and his heart beat faster. He was sure he was sweating and maybe even looked a bit flustered, which is why George nudges him to walk over and formally introduce himself.

“Hi, I’m YN,” you said with a smile, waving quietly and setting down another box of books. Matty was sure you probably had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves with how many books you were bringing inside. “I think we have English together.”

“Yeah, I think we do,” Matty smiles, stepping forward and lending out his hand. “I’m Matty. Nice to actually meet you.” You smile back at him, and Matty felt his heart flutter. Feeling this at only fourteen felt ridiculous, but he couldn’t even help it. It was happening to him. Without any warning. “This is George, Adam, and Ross.”

“I see you guys around school all the time. Aren’t you in a band or something?”

“Yeah,” George smiles, budging Matty’s shoulder with a laugh. “You should come see us play.”

“Yeah! I’d like that. I need to make some new friends.” You paused for a minute, and Matty found himself upset that he wasn’t hearing your voice anymore. It was too early to be feeling this way. He didn’t even know you. “I actually saw you guys staring at the tree in my backyard earlier,” you giggled, kicking your foot forward and swaying back and forth. “I was going to, um,” you looked around for your mother, bringing your fingers to your lips and pretending to smoke, “back there. Do you guys want to come?”

George, Ross, Adam and Matty quickly nod their heads, an excited smile filling their faces as they wave goodbye to Denise and your mother, Matty following closely on your heels as you make your way through your garden.

///

“That’s how you met? Mummy was your neighbor? And Nana introduced you?”

“Mhm,” you hum from the doorway, stepping inside and taking a seat the end of the bed, smiling brightly at two of your favorite people. “Daddy and your uncles came to hang out with me, and it’s been all of us together ever since.”

“Well, Daddy, you didn’t tease Mummy like the boy at school teases me. Maybe he doesn’t like me.”

“Daddy teased me. But Daddy was my friend, so it was different. If you don’t like this boy at school teasing you, then you should tell him to stop.”

“Yeah, I think I’m going to tell him what Uncle George told me.”

You and Matty share a look. “What did Uncle George tell you, baby?”

“Uncle George told me to tell him to eat rocks.”

Matty laughs and nods his head, kissing Attie’s head and laying her down to fall asleep. “I think that’s a perfectly acceptable response, actually. Tell him that tomorrow.”

“Matty!”

[zaradress]

Driver

pairing: George Russel x Toto Wolffs daughter warnings: age gap, sexual themes, fingering, pain kink, forbidden trope. prompt: Cami Wolff is the daughter of the mercedes team principle. She goes out of her way to not meet George Russel just because she finds him so attractive. One night she goes to a party and it turns out that the party on the yacht is hosted by none other than George Russel.

I had noticed him from the day I first saw him. It wasn't a crush or some infatuation. Instead it was some kind of admiring from a far type of thing. Dad tried to introduce me a couple of times but I refused. 

The young driver was the only driver I had not talked to out of all the mercedes drivers I had ever met. Which weren't a lot but still. I didn't know back then why I refused to talk to him but I know now. Like I said it wasn't some kind of crush or infatuation. No, it was an attraction that I did not want to feed into with being introduced to him.

I just knew he must be good in bed and every time I caught his eyes I thought about that fact. Which is why I decided it was for the better to just not meet him.

xxx

In Monaco, after Lewis had won the race, everyone decided to go celebrate on someones yacht. I didn't know who's yacht nor did I care. If there is a party I will be there. So I got ready with my friend, Chelsea, and as soon as we were done we left. 

From what I had gathered it would mostly just consist of only workers for mercedes, with some exceptions. My dad, thank god, wasn't going to be there. He'd honestly kill me if he knew that I even attended. 

We walked on to the yacht and went to the bar immediately. "What you getting?" I ask Chelsea. Whilst thinking about my own order. 

"Something that I can get hammered on, this week has been rough", Chelsea works as a PR manager for McLaren so her statement makes sense. 

"Let's just get eight shots, divid them by two and then down them all, one after the other", I tell her. She couldn't have agreed faster. What the hell are those McLaren drivers doing to my poor friend? I laugh whilst she orders the drinks. 

Whilst our drinks are getting prepared Lewis walks up to us and says hey. "Didn't think you'd show up", he comments.

"Why do you say that?" I laugh confused.

He looks around. "Well this is Georges yacht after all, didn't think you'd show up with how you are clearly going out of your way to not talk to George", I stopped smiling, shocked.

I knew that George was going to be here but not that this was his yacht.

"I'm not! Just haven't got to talk to him yet", I tell him, lying through my teeth. 

"So you could just walk over to him and talk to him right now, right?" he asks me smirking. 

I laugh nervously. "Of course I could", I say to him. "Don't be silly Lewis".

"If that's so, go talk to him right now", he challenges. "Or even better come play a game with us in like an hour or two, bring Chelsea with you". 

What have I gotten myself into. "Alright, we'll be there", with that he says goodbye for now and leaves. I had 1-2 hours to get as wasted as possible. 

I turn back to Chelsea. "Order another eight shots", I tell her as I start to down shot after shot. 

"Slow down Cami", she laughs. 

I chose to not listen to her and drank the remaining four from the second round. At first I din't feel anything but after 30 minutes I knew it was over. So was Chelsea but not nearly as much as me. She was perfectly drunk. Enough to think clearly but also enough to have fun. 

Me on the other hand was more than ready to start playing. If it was going to be truth or dare I was going to be up for anything. 

Chelsea and I danced away on the dance floor. She turned to some guy, dancing with him, and I decided to do the same. Not thinking about who it was. The guy put one of his hands on my hips as I was swaying them against him. 

Maneater playing in the back ground whilst my eyes were closed. I turn around just to be face to face with George. Out of all people, George. Thankfully I was so drunk that I didn't care and just put my hands around his neck. 

I doubted that he at that moment knew that I was the daughter of his team principal or he simply did not care. He took a hold of my hand and spun me around. Dancing with me until my friend dragged me to the toilet. 

Chelsea has always had a fear of bathrooms. She was scared that someone might hide in them. So whenever we had a night out it was not uncommon for me or someone else to go with her. 

By the time she was done. George was gone from the dance floor and Chelsea and I just continued to dance with one another. 

After the two hours had passed the party had died down. It was more or less a gathering now. Which was the whole point. A few other drivers arrived and we were maybe 15 or 20 people sitting on the four couches. That's probably why Lewis said one to two hours, so there'd be a little peace and quiet for us to play.

I was still drunk off my ass and was going to be for another few hours. The others were pretty much sober. I'm ashamed to be even saying that I even kept on drinking just a lot less. 

"Let's play then, everyone know how it goes?" Lewis asked. We were going to play truth or dare. A very simple yet exciting game. No one said anything so Hamilton bent over to the table to spin the bottle. "Oh and if you decide to not do it or answer it you have to take a piece of your clothing off", by the time he said that the bottle landed on me. 

The only problem: I have a dress and underwear on. Nothing else. "Truth", with that information in the back of my mind I chose to play it safe. I could feel a pair of eyes staring at me. George. Which made me push my thighs together. It was like he was undressing me with his eyes even though he sat two meters away from me. 

"What's your body count", Lewis asks, genuinely interested. 

"Don't have one, virgin", I answer which was the truth. Sure I had had boyfriends and situation-ships but never had I ever gone the whole way. Only close to it. Somehow I just never felt the desperation for it, so until I found someone I couldn't keep my hands off I wasn't going to do it. 

Everyone looked at me in disbelief. Georges eyes turned a darker shade of blue, looking at me even more intensely. "She's telling the truth and I have known her for a couple of years", Chelsea confirms. She leans into me whispering something in my ear. "George is practically staring at you", she tells me which I ignore. I spin the bottle and so we continued to play. 

As time went on more and more people left only the six of us remaining. Lewis, Chelsea, George, Alex, Lily and me. Three guys against three girls. All of us still had cloths on. But at this point I probably was so drunk I wouldn't have cared if I did. 

The bottle lands on Lily. Chelsea had spun it so she had to choose. "Dare, of course because I'm not boring", she laughs.

Lily just smirks to that. "Remove a piece of clothing of off the guy closest to you but without using you hands", she giggles knowing it was Lewis and how she is going to enjoy this show.

"Okay easy", she sits down beside Lewis and starts to take off Lewis's shirt but he helps her a little because he saw that she was finding it difficult. The rest of us were chanting her name.

When she was done we all started clapping, to which she just turns red and returns to her seat. She spins the bottle and it lands on me. After seeing how tame her dare was I felt like I could choose dare as well. "Dare, why not?" I say unknowing of what was about to come.

"Show us one of your kinks with another player", well fuck Lewis is taken by Chelsea right now and Alex and Lily are both in a relationship with one another. That only leaves Chelsea as an option. As I was about to say her name, she adds on something. "The player has to be male", she smirks.

I knew what she was doing and she knew too because that only leaves George as an option. It was noticeable how he was waiting me to pick anyone but him.

So when I walked drunkenly over to him and tried to sit beside him, it came to him as a shock. He even had to help me sit down because of how drunk I was. Throughout the game we hadn't talked and now I was supposed to show him one of my kinks. 

"So, what's your kink?", he says putting a hair behind my ear. 

I bite my lip which he sees. "Wait if I take off a piece of clothing I can skip this dare, right?" I turn around and ask. 

"Sure but then you wouldn't have anything on you, would you now? So what's worse?", George says looking me up and down. 

"Come on Cami, we've all done worse than whatever your kinks are", Chelsea says to which everyone laughs. 

I turn back to George and get closer to him. So close that if I whisper only he could hear. "I have a pain kink. So if you chock me and than slap me hard I will get turned on immediately, especially if it's from you", I whisper.

"Little Virgin Mary not so pure in actuality, huh?", he laughs. Everyone was confused about what I could have said.

His eyes didn't leave mine as he put one hand on my thigh and the other one started going up from my chest. He just had to take full advantage of this situation didn't he. His hand finally comes to my neck and he starts applying pressure.

The pressure felt so fucking good and it made me close my eyes. His hand leaves my neck and I open my eyes again just to look him in the eyes. That's when his hand slapped me, hard enough for a little moan to escape my lips that only he could hear. 

I return to my seat, drunk and now horney as well. "Fuck me that was hot", Chelsea was the first to say anything and everyone else just started giggling. George on the other hand didn't leave my eyes. 

"Didn't think you had that in you, Cami", Lewis says shocked. I just ignore the fact that I just showed everyone here that I like pain. 

As I spin the bottle I reach for the vodka bottle and take two more shots. George shakes his head in disbelief. 

The bottle landed on George and he chose truth. "What sexual acts arouse you most?" I asked him downing another shot. Not expecting anything interesting.

"Chocking and slapping", everyone was in disbelief. He had not just said that. "Giving not receiving, of course". 

My mouth hung a gap not able to utter a single word. "You two should get a room", Alex laughed. 

The round kept on going and the alcohol was starting to hit again. I had taken off my shoes and left just to go to the speaker and sync my phone to it. I put some music on and started dancing a little. George looked over to what I was doing too which I gestured for him to come to me. 

"What is it?" he asks with a smile on his lips.

I had gone over my drinking limit a while ago. "Dance with me", I tell him. He smiles and looks away.

"How much have you had to drink?" he asked concerned.

"Only like half a bottle of vodka", I say oblivious to how much that actually was. 

"Fuck Cami, this is going to hit you hard when you wake up", he tells me.

"Why don't you hit me hard instead?" I said to him. Looking into his blue eyes. 

He clears his voice. "Let's get back to the game", he leads me to the couch and sits beside me. There was no way I was walking to the couch on my own. 

I rested my head on Georges shoulder as Lewis spun the bottle and of course the bottle had to have landed on me. "Truth", honestly I couldn't move even if I wanted to so it was the obvious choice. 

"I can't come up with a good question, can someone take over for me?" Lewis said to which George takes over.

"Have you ever fantasised about an F1 driver?" he asks.

"That's a good one", Lewis said and everyone agrees.

I don't even have to think about it. "Of course", by the looks of it they weren't expecting me to answer it. 

"Who?" George asked. 

There was no way I was admitting to who I fantasised about. "That's another question and there is no way I'm saying it", I laugh and go to spin the bottle. 

It lands on Alex and he chooses dare. To which I told him to seduce Lily. "I am going to find out eventually who it is", George whispers into my ear. As I was about to respond everyone starts to clap and shout. 

George and I joined in. Alex than spun the bottle and it landed on George. "Truth".

"How long was your longest session, if you know what I mean?" if you know what I mean. 

He thinks about it for a little. "I think it was an hour long", he laughs embarrassed.

George spins the bottle. "You lasted for an hour? No fucking way", Lewis laughs. 

The bottle yet again lands on me and before I can even think I chose truth immediately regretting it. "Who Cami?", he said seductively.

"Well I guess I will have to strip then", I stand up looking him directly in the eyes a teasing smile on my lips. My hands go to my straps and pull one after the other off. 

It was almost as if he didn't believe I would do it. Only when I was about to pull my dress off he stood up and stopped me. Pulling my straps up for me. "I think that's enough for tonight, let's get you sobered up, wouldn't want Toto to get mad at me now would we", he says as he starts leading me inside the yacht. "I'm going to let her sleep here and call Toto probably, is that alright with you Chelsea?", he asks.

"Yeah that's fine by me, with how much she has consumed I don't think I would be able to get her home anyway", she says.

"Perfect than, Cami stays here and I'll take Chelsea home", Lewis says.

They start to pick all their stuff up and George carefully holds me leading me inside the yacht. 

He brings me to the bed and lays me down. He takes a shirt out of his closet and when he turns to give it to me he looks away just as quick. Because he saw how I was starting to take my dress off. 

"George?" I said.

"Yeah what's up?" he still didn't look at me.

I struggled with my bra and couldn't get it off. "I need you to help me take my bra off", I tell him.

"Fuck", he said very quietly as he turned around. 

I still had my dress on but only from the waist down. So my chest was very much on display. He went to my back and slowly unclasped my bra and immediately looked away. 

"Thanks", I said and put the shirt on, shimmying the dress of and fold it with my bra on the bed side table. 

George disappears into the kitchen probably getting some water. He returns with some water. Which I downed in a matter of minutes. He just stood across the bed with his arms crossed looking at me. 

"You just going to stare at me from over there?" I ask him slightly sobering up.

He smiled at that comment. "Yes", he said. "Well, until you tell me who you fantasis about at least", he smirked.

"Come here and I'll tell you", I said to which he walked to the bed and sat beside me whilst I was sitting on my knees. 

"So tell me", he was so eager to know. 

I thought about it for a second. Should I tell the truth or lie? "Let's talk about something else", I giggle. 

"Like I said earlier I will get the answer sooner or later but fine let me ask something else than", he starts saying. "What's the reason behind you going out of your way just to not meet me?".

My smile vanished a little. "Its the same reason I don't want to tell you who I fantasise about", I boldly say. 

He looks me in the eye leaning one hand on the mattress whilst being a bit turned to me. "So you are attracted to me and fantasise about me?" he said almost cocky and not even a bit shocked.

"Can't fall for one of my dads workers now can I?" I said.

"I guess not", his other hand is on my naked thigh, caressing it. "What do you think your dad would say about how you danced with me at the beginning of the party?" his hand traveled further up.

"Not much. What do you think my dad would say about you chocking and slapping me earlier?" I asked him teasingly, acting as though his hand didn't do things to me. 

"Don't think he'd be so happy with me. What do you think he would say about me fingering his pure virgin daughter?" My heart was in my feet. Did he just really say that. 

I gulped slightly. "Well he'd definitely not be too happy about that, but that hasn't happened so we don't need to think about that", his hand traveled even further.

"Yet".

With that our lips met. He put me down on the bed and I put my thighs around his waist. My crotch meeting his, a moan escaping from my lips. One of his hands held my thigh whilst the other one was aggressively traveling over my body until it got to my neck and chocked me. 

I didn't think it was possible for me to become even wetter. His crotch was hard against me and I could feel how he started getting hard. He was actively pushing against me hard. Only making me more horny. 

His hand travled to my sex painfully slow. "Your so fucking wet, so fucking perfect", he pushed my underwear to the side going straight inside me with two fingers.

"George", I moan overwhelmed by the feeling I was experiencing. His thumb went over my clit.

"Your taking my fingers so well, like a good virgin", he tells me.

George started going faster bringing me close to finishing. "George I'm going to cum", I told him.

All the built up tension from all the weeks I had been refusing to meet him were finally going to be released.

"Go on than", he tells me. "Be a good girl for me and cum", he says which takes me over the edge and I hit my climax . He gets a towel and cleans me up a bit.

I have never been fingered better. Even though I didn't do anything I still was more than exhausted. I didn't want to leave him hanging but he assured me that he was happier over having made me cum than anything else. "Come here", he said to me making room for me to snuggle into him.

We than fell asleep and sometime around six AM we woke up again and continued on talking until we fell asleep again.

This was going to be the beginning of something good.

[galaxyshine24-7]

Deuce trying to protect the idea that the NRC is an ideal place for a family- Look, my mother raised me alone in the NRC and I'm fine

Yui- So good that when he was under 18 he already joined a gang and his life expectancy is less than 40 years, as he can be killed in different ways

Exactly, many of the boys not just Deuce try to convince Yuu that NRC isn't that bad. However, they always get shot down with Yuu's logical thinking.

I felt inspired to write a dabble about it. I hope you enjoy.

A Brighter Future

It is a cold day in NRC as snow softly falls along the street. The light from the Silver Bullet creates a warm glow inviting those to come inside and enjoy a hot drink.

Yuu tends the bar as always making a cup of hot chocolate for themselves and their customers who decided to remain rather late after an important meeting. It is an end-of-the-year occasion where the leaders invite any members they deem worthy to tag along.

It has been a chaotic year with many events and secrets being revealed. The one reveal on everyone's minds is the future desires of their usually secretive bartender. It was a big shock to uncover one of their deepest desires, but it also left a worried thought in all the boys heads.

Yuu wants to leave NRC one day to start a family. No one really leaves NRC, but the more the bartender insists the more the boys have to take it seriously. So now comes the challenge to find ways to keep Yuu from leaving.

"You know Yuu," Deuce leans against the counter rubbing the back of his neck. "I grew up here with my mom and it's pretty safe." Deuce tries to bring up the subject gently having practiced ways to convince the bartender that they can feel safe here.

"Deuce your mother did a wonderful job raising you, but you joined a gang at a young age. Not to mention it's encouraged for young people like you to join gangs basically signing your life away, and it's almost impossible to get out of them in one piece." Yuu puts whipped cream on the drinks sprinkling them with chocolate powder before handing one to Deuce.

"Well uh-" Deuce is speechless as he takes the drink.

"Oh come on it's not that serious." Ace chimes in leaning against the counter sucking on a candy can.

"Ace I literally found you in a dumpster beaten up." Ace winces at the memory and so does Riddle who has been listening to the conversation off to the side.

"I get what you guys are trying to do, but I will not be convinced." Yuu starts to hand out the rest of the drinks.

"But to just up and leave." Epel pouts taking a sip of his drink.

"It's not like you'll never hear from me again I'll call, you guys didn't think I'll be a bartender for the rest of my life did you?" Yuu places the rest of the drinks on a tray to hand out to the others. The first years watch Yuu walk away to hand out the drinks around the bar.

"Deuce what was that?! You said you practiced?" Ace exclaims.

"I did, I just didn't expect that response, they are... kind of right." Deuce slumps his shoulders. "My mom wasn't the happiest with me joining the gang."

"Yuu's thinking isn't wrong, this life isn't desirable to most." Jack crosses his arms.

"So do you want them to leave?" Ace snaps.

"No," Jack's tail puffs up as he looks away.

"Ortho can you run statics some sort of statics?" Ace looks at the robot child.

"I have, but no matter how much I manipulate them NRC is not desirable option for people to live." Ortho sighs.

"So then we have nothing?" Ace rest his head on the counter.

"We can still convince them." Deuce tries to remain positive, but the first years have seen how stubborn the bartender can be.

"So I guess it's back to the drawing board as you humans say." Sebek shakes his head sipping his hot chocolate.

Silly first years the leaders and their vice captains have already come up with many plots to keep the bartender right here where they need to be. The young ones just need to leave it too the older folk to set things right.

[shinjisdone]

If you are still doing the Fem mc can you do a one with Floyd or Idia

Floyd is forever A tier man. Also I have been thinking of being a bit more self-indulged with these fem mc and friends asks since they did begin as self-indulgant fics for my oc lol. I find myself being able to write more creatively - trying to have a fem mc that everyone could insert themselves in or see any kind of interesting changes in is hard because frankly, the only thing about such a blank slate is that they are female.

while my own OC is also female and that does play a part in the little shenanignags, I also add a bit of her own personality and thoughts to make it a bit different (and as i said self-indulgent)

Plus, I honestly really struggled and disliked the riddle one, where I tried to not put any characteristics of my oc in there to make it more 'appealing' for anyone. But I found this just doesn not work for me.

I will do this one request with my OC in mind if that is okay!

Fem!Mc And Friends - Floyd Leech

Everyone, run! Before you get squeezed.

Floyd Leech is a weird combination of predictable and unpredictable. It can be expected to be looked down upon, threatened, challenged and squeezed by Floyd, yet when it comes to whatever he decides to stick with and spend his time on, he is a wild card.

Unfortunately, you are one of the many things he has decided to spend his time with. The little, jumpy 'Shrimpy' he came across.

And while he seems to stick to others and 'affectionately' refer to everyone with ocean-related names, he still seems...especially attached to you...

When You Spend Helloween Together...

Why would you spend Helloween with him? Are you crazy?

This is probably Floyd's favorite holiday on land. Dressing up as scary things (aside from himself) with the intention to terrify the crap out of anyone who crosses him? And he can get away with it? Who cares about some treats when he can carry out some tricks?

Even if you try to stay far, faaaar away from him Floyd will be sure to find you~

Where's Shrimpy, Shrimpy, Shrimpy~? Oh, are you dressed up, too? That's cute. You think you're gonna scare anyone with that?

Nothing scares Floyd and he still has the same kind of opinion of you since day 1. A meek, tiny shrimp. So he doesn't think you could pull any tricks anyway.

On top of that you are magicless and just a little girl in his eyes. Sounds mean but try as you might, he will never acknowledge you as 'bigger' or 'taller' even if you are.

Will first show off his costume (isn't it neat?) And threaten to terrify you right after (there's enough bandages to bind you down into a coffin).

Floyd always and I mean ALWAYS loves to mess with you but on this special day he feels like going all out. Scaring you, popping out of nowhere, acting like a real Zombie and like a bite from him could kill you??? You tell him off but he also acts like he believes what he says???

You may be a lot of things but no Zombie.

Hehe, you sure? Wanna try it out :) ?

He especially likes to tease you with his nickname for you. There's just something about it when you startle and jump up like these cats on land while he spooks you :) why can't Helloween be everyday?

Also your scared expression are just *chef kiss* to him. Will try every trick in the book to just...indulge in these shrieks and screams of fear.

And when he finds out you have a fear? Scared of the dark, spiders, thunder or oooohh zombies? Hehe, you're never getting rid of hiiiiimmm, Shrimpyyyyy!

Floyd would especially love it if you let out girly yelps or shrieks. He is surrounded by dudes in NRC so someone really girly is just interesting and more fun to tease.

Stuck in a haunted house with Floyd? Haha, help. Seriously, call for help!

Floyd is not stuck in a haunted house - the haunted house is stuck with Floyd. And you are right in the middle.

It feels like each scare and trick is being terrified into submission by him. The guy gets quickly bored out of his mind that he decides to spook the entire house. But besides that, he sticks with you and loves watching your reactions.

You will wish for the protection of Malleus and Deuce, because Floyd will not lift a finger to help or comfort you. He'll hang over your shoulder with that stupid, gleeful grin on his face (and the fangs near your flesh!) And laugh at your misery.

:(

But I feel like if something truly awful were to happen to you - maybe someone took a trick too far or made you cry - Flyod maaaaybe could become scary to everyone but you. Huh? Hey, you cannot terrify his Shrimpy that much. That's his job. Look what'chu did. Better get out of his sight.

When You Watch Him At His Club...

Oh boy. You can expect a lot "Hey, Shrimpy! Hey, hey! Over here, Shrimpy! Shrimpy, over here!"

He most likely threatened invited you to his basketball Club, no matter if there was a game or practice session.

It isnt thaaaat bad...Ace and Jamil are there too and they are miles more mellow than Floyd is if you ever need someone like that.

Ace will be a bit confused on why Floyd would invite you while Jamil is just hoping the guy will actively play for once in one go. Not when he feels like it.

Yet when you arrived, there Floyd was, taking you into his arms so tight you were lifted off the ground and squeezed so hard you thought you couldnt breathe.

Floyd is so happy to see you! Did Shrimpy come just for him and watch him play? Huh, did'chu, did'chu?

Also he would still hug you if he was covered in sweat and would not care. It'd be even funny if you were grossed out by it.

However...against all odds, Floyd would actually play - and go all out!

Even if it were practice, he is brutal. After each shot, he'd spin into your direction with arms shot up. A huge grin on his face. He's expecting you to watch him and only him.

Though if your attention is somewhere else, he'd pout and tell you to watch him! Look how much he's destroying the others!

In fact, you're supposed to cheer for him! Be Floyd's 'cheerleader' as he says. There's bunch of games where there's a girl cheerleader team that hypes up the audience and players! Do that for him! You got no choice if you don't wanna get on his bad side

Ah, should he get you one of these 'pom-poms'? You'd be so cute with them!

It just feels kind of special when the only girl in NRC is cheering for him. It's like in one of these movies!

Say a cheer that just consists of his name. Just that! Don't mention anyone else!

If you do pay attention or cheer for someone else, Floyd will not like it. Observing the other player like a hawk and leering at them with his classic 'huuuuh'? Even if they are on the same team.

Will do his best to kind of get your attention back on him. That can go from fouling the other player to telling you in your face to watch him. Him.

It can cost them the victory but Floyd wouldn't care. The sole reason why he even decided to come is because he dragged you here.

Ace is weirded out and Jamil's trying not to fume in anger.

When You Are Stranded On An Island...

Well. This isn't anything...novel for Floyd.

He IS from the ocean so a beach isn't something that would surprise or unnerve him. The sight of sand, the ocean, palm trees and the lovely sunlight...is rather boring to him.

Islands like this exist everywhere. Why should this one be any different?

Well, you are here for once.

And so are people like Crabby and Goldfish! This is sure to be fun!

Floyd will drag you to every place he finds interesting. Beaches are familiar to him so he can show and teach you anything! He's an expert in a way!

Collecting things is actually a dull activity to him. If you show any interest, he will just...drag you off. Maybe haul you around. If you say they are meant ad souvenirs, he still wouldn't budge and tell you these are boring trinkets instead. He knows much better stuff, come on!

His favorite thing to do is swimming for sure! Expect to be thrown into the sea and him quickly following after you. It doesnt matter what you are wearing, he will force you to swim with him.

Floyd will turn into his eel form and just drag you further and further into the seaaaaa~

Ace is getting worried and Riddle is screaming at him to return at once! You are supposed to find a way back to NRC!

It's kinda akin to a horror movie.

And since you two are so far out, you'll have no choice but to cling to him~!

Don't worry though, as much as Floyd teases and messes with you, he will never put you in any harm. He knows the sea better than anyone else.

He just likes having your arms around him and vice versa!

Floyd especially likes it when you're just a taaaaad biiiit scared and cling to him as if you'd never let go. It's just twice the fun and extra cute.

But hey, if you are already out here, why not explore a bit? He can hold you as you dive into the deep blue and catch some fish or anemona, spook some crabs or get some souvenirs from there! Anything down there is way better than on some beach!

You could be like a mermaid then! Don't you wanna try it?

Just act like your legs are fins and maybe let your hair open - oh, ya don't want to?

Meh, fine.

On another point, Floyd is not used to wear these vacation...swim...beach wear or whatever. But he guesses it's neat. Especially the sunglasses.

He would really like it if you wore ocean-related clothes or things. It just looks good on you.

Swimwear or bikini though? It's interesting wear but also...intriguing?

He's never seen something like that, the closest thing he knows are from mermaids. But well, they are half fish.

But on you...it looks good. Floyd would stare at you. Not shamelessly but more so out of curiousity. Shrimps don't usually look like that, you know?

Just wants to have fun with you.

[captainsophiestark]

A Bad Idea

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Star Wars

Day 31 Prompt: "It's not your fault."

Summary: Obi-Wan and his best friend/fellow Jedi are getting Hondo's help on a mission. Predictably, things don't go according to their plan.

Word Count: 2,045

Category: Fluff, Humor

A/N: That's a wrap for Fictober gang! Thank you so much to @fictober-event for putting this whole thing on and to everyone who's read one of my stories! Honestly can't believe the amount of writing I got done for this event

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"I think this might be the worst idea we've ever had."

"If you don't count ideas that Anakin came up with and we agreed to, then yes, it probably is."

Obi-Wan Kenobi and I stood shoulder to shoulder on the ramp of our ship, waving as the one and only Hondo Ohnaka came towards us. We'd recently gotten information that the Separatists were using a different group of pirates to smuggle things out of reach of the Republic, and together, Obi-Wan and I had decided the best way to infiltrate a pirate base was with the help of another pirate. On paper, it sounded perfectly rational, especially since we had a pirate contact we could go to. In reality, it was probably going to get us killed.

"Kenobi!" called Hondo once he got within earshot of us. "It is wonderful to see you again! And who is your lovely friend? A girlfriend, perhaps?"

Heat and embarrassment rushed through me, and I felt a wave of discomfort coming off of Obi-Wan in the Force too.

"Jedi don't typically date," he quickly explained, waving Hondo off. "And it wouldn't be any of your business anyway."

"I'm a friend of Obi-Wan's," I continued. "We grew up at the Temple together."

Hondo gave me a quick once over, then evaluated Obi-Wan the same way. Then, he smiled and held out his hand to me.

"Well, any friend of Obi-Wan's is a friend of mine! It is very nice to meet you, I'm sure!"

I forced a smile as I took his hand and shook it. I didn't think he'd meant to, but Honda had hit a very sore spot for me. I'd harbored feelings for my best friend for years now, against the Code, and I'd done my best every single day to hide them from him and from anyone else. A hundred Jedi who'd known me since birth couldn't tell, but this Weequay had hit the bullseye within moments of seeing me for the first time.

"Come on," Obi-Wan whispered to me, leaning in close to my ear so Hondo couldn't hear him as the Weequay moved past me into the ship. "The sooner we start this mission, the sooner it's officially over."

"Can't wait," I muttered. "And you said this guy was your friend?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "More like... acquaintance who tries to kill me sometimes. Although I think he unironically considers me his best friend."

I smiled a little at that, especially as Obi-Wan moved into the ship after Hondo and Hondo immediately flung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in. Based on the conversation I could hear as I brought in the ramp, Hondo was trying to convince Obi-Wan to sell him some of our Republic tech at a frankly ridiculous price. To no one's surprise (except maybe Hondo's), Obi didn't budge. He was remarkably gentle in his refusal, though.

After a brief challenge where Hondo insisted on piloting the ship and Obi-Wan had to convince him to sit in the passenger seat instead, we were on our way. With Hondo's help, we quickly found the pirate base we were looking for.

"Do you guys just constantly share locations with each other?" I asked as we came in for a landing not too far from the gates. Hondo shrugged.

"We do business with each other from time to time. Helps to know where your business partners are."

"Hm. Makes sense."

Hondo grinned at me. He clapped me on the shoulder and started walking down the ramp, and a moment later Obi-Wan took his place next to me.

"Don't turn your back on him," he warned. I turned, coming face to face with Obi-Wan. We'd known each other for most of our lives; I'd seen him a million times or more. But for this mission, we weren't in the typical Jedi robes, in an effort to go undercover. And seeing him standing next to me in a dashing pirate costume made my heart beat a little faster.

"Don't worry, I wasn't planning on it." Obi-Wan stared off after Hondo, his expression clouded, so I reached out and gently squeezed his shoulder. "We'll be fine, okay? We've survived everything we've gone through so far. What's a couple pirates?"

"The last time I interacted with pirates, Anakin and I ended up handcuffed to Count Dooku."

I laughed as we started strolling down the ramp together to catch up to Hondo.

"Well, if we find ourselves in a similar situation, I promise to make fun of Dooku even more than Anakin did with you."

"That, I would look forward to seeing." He sighed, nudging my shoulder with his just before we caught up to Hondo. "I suppose there's nothing left for us to do but dive straight in."

"Like you said. Sooner we start, sooner we get to go back to Cody and other, saner partners in crime."

"The fact that Anakin is significantly more rational and predictable than Hondo is... concerning."

I chuckled, and Obi-Wan and I shared a smile. Hondo clapped us both on the shoulders once we'd caught up with him at the door to the pirate's fort, and then we headed inside.

The next thing I remember, I was waking up on a concrete floor, my head pounding. I groaned, lifting one hand to my head, and to my surprise something dragged my other hand with it. I opened my eyes.

I was handcuffed. More than that, I was apparently handcuffed to someone else. I turned to my right to see Obi-Wan, already sitting up and looking at me.

"Good morning."

"What happened?"

"We were played." I sighed and flung my head back. All that talk about having each others' backs and not trusting Hondo, and it had been for nothing. "We were jumped as soon as we made it through the gates. Hondo turned us over and went to collect a bounty for us from the other pirates."

"Oh wonderful," I sighed, slumping back against Obi-Wan. My heart sped up a little bit at our close proximity, but unlike every other time we'd been close, this time I couldn't chicken out. It was lean against him, or very clearly, obviously, and uncomfortably lean away from him.

"I should've known we couldn't trust him," Obi-Wan said. "I just thought that this time we were prepared, so Hondo wouldn't be able to get one over on us. I should've known better."

"It's not your fault. Even I'd started to believe Hondo was honestly going to work with us for this mission. The fact that he'd already double-crossed us, before we even got on the ship..."

I trailed off, shaking my head. Obi-Wan sighed, and we spent a few moments leaning against the wall and each other, hands close together and heads resting against each other. I could've stayed like that for a long time, if we hadn't been sitting in a jail cell.

"So..." I finally started, still not moving an inch. "What did you do the last time you were in this situation?"

Obi-Wan sighed heavily. "Bickered with the Count, mostly. And made a few escape attempts. We would've been successful from the beginning had it not been for Dooku."

I huffed a small laugh. "Well, it's a good thing I'm here instead of him then, isn't it?"

"I truthfully can't think of anyone else I'd rather be stuck with."

We shared a smile, a warm feeling quickly dominating my chest. I couldn't quite stop myself from leaning forward ever so slightly, like Obi-Wan had his own gravity pulling me in. In this place, out of sight and temporarily forgotten by everyone else, being close to him didn't feel as scary as it did in the Temple or aboard the Negotiator.

To my immense surprise and delight, Obi-Wan leaned in too, a moment after me. He huffed a small laugh, his blue eyes sparkling.

"This is... probably a bad idea."

I didn't need to ask what he was talking about. I gave him a small smile and shrugged.

"No worse an idea than the one that got us in here in the first place."

"You certainly make a good point."

As one, we smiled and closed the remaining distance to each other, our lips meeting in a kiss I'd thought about a thousand times. It was even better than I'd imagined it would be, especially as I could feel Obi-Wan through the Force. My best friend, the man I'd loved a thousand different ways before I even really knew what the word meant, glowed with a happiness that matched mine.

No one had ever really found evidence that soulmates were real, despite all the mystical forces that did exist in the galaxy. But as I sat on the filthy floor of that cell and kissed my best friend, our energies twining together in the Force, I thought we'd come pretty close.

"Oh, this is very gross. And yet, it's exactly what I'd hoped to find."

Obi-Wan and I broke apart to find Hondo staring at us through the bars of the cell, a grin on his face. We fixed him with matching scowls.

"Come now, what are those looks for? You should be happy, look at the two of you!"

"Happy might be a stretch, since you double-crossed us," I said. Hondo's mouth dropped open and a hand flew to his chest.

"Double-crossed? No no no, I have done no such thing."

"Then why did we wake up handcuffed in a cell?" Obi-Wan demanded. "In my case, again."

"Ah, you see, it was all part of my brilliant plan!"

Obi-Wan and I shared a very, very skeptical look. Undeterred, Hondo pulled a ring of keys out of his pocket, still beaming at us.

"You thought the two of you, two Jedi, could actually sneak in here unnoticed? Ha! It never would have worked. So, I pretended to double-cross you, and while the two of you were in here admitting feelings for each other, I found your documents! After collecting the credits for turning you two over as prisoners, of course."

Obi-Wan and I stared, dumbfounded, as Hondo explained his plan and removed our handcuffs. We stood, helping each other up, both a little stunned that the Weequay had really outplayed everyone here.

"Come on, we must hurry," said Hondo, waving us after him as he headed for the cell door. "It won't take them long to figure out what we've done."

We spared one last shocked glance at each other, then hurried after Hondo through the winding halls of the pirates' lair.

"If you got your money and information, why did you come back for us?" asked Obi-Wan, suspicion dripping from his words. "Why not leave us to be cashed in for a bounty?"

I wanted to smack him for asking that question before we were safely back on our ship, but Hondo just turned to us, looking hurt and outraged that Obi-Wan would even suggest it.

"Kenobi, I am hurt! I would never do such a thing to such a good friend!" He turned, ignoring Obi's raised eyebrow as we at last made it out of the hideout. "Besides, there were no more credits to be gained by leaving you here. The only thing that would've happened was a profit for my competition."

I failed to fight off a smile. Now it all made sense.

Obi-Wan and I trailed just behind Hondo the last bit of distance to our ship, and cautiously, I slipped my hand into his. He gave it a gentle squeeze, turning to fix me with a small smile.

"You know this is going to complicate our lives beyond belief, don't you?"

"Yeah. But I think it's worth it. Our lives are already wildly complicated anyway."

Obi-Wan huffed a small laugh. "I agree."

"With which part?"

"All of it. But especially the part about this being worth it."

He gave my hand one last squeeze, and we shared another tender look before reaching the ramp of the ship and returning to business mode. I let Obi-Wan lead the way, and as I closed the ramp, I could already hear Hondo bargaining with Obi-Wan for credits in exchange for the information he'd retrieved while we'd been in the cell. Despite the exasperation on Obi-Wan's face and in his tone, I could still feel that glowing happiness radiating off of him in the Force, a mirror to my own. We were going to be just fine.

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