#if this already exists somewhere pls point

[callofthecurlew]

Think of a Les Mis wiki but it also includes headcanons about each character, categorised for both modern and canon-era personalities from every person on earth. And then you can just mix and match for fic writing.

Because sometimes I love a holistic-health/spiritual Joly but what kind of Bossuet would suit this personality? What kind of Musichetta? What are Jehan and Bahorel like in this universe and how shall I personalise them to it while still in the grounds of their characters??

(For even more fun you could have a dice challenge where you roll a random headcanon for each character and then you lump them together and make it work)

I just see so many of them and I'm always like "oh that sounds COOL" and then I forget.

[love-bitesx]

: ̗̀➛ PROTECTOR. hobie brown x reader

summary: spider-man makes a point of walking y/n home every night, but after befriending them as hobie brown as well, his feelings get complicated. words: 3.5k REQUESTS OPEN ! warnings: non-explicit sexual harassment (a man is very creepy to reader), reader isn't gendered! but be aware, author is female, so possible afab bias, i tried my hardest i swear. all characters are adults :) author is british so this is my interpretation of his silly little slang from what ive experienced hehe also divider credit: cafekitsune a/n: may feel a little ooc, but in my headcanon, when he's pining the way he is for reader, he's so soft. also, spider-man and hobie r completely different personalities u cant tell me otherwise. first time writing hobie so pls give me opinions ty. enjoy!!!!!

“is it home-time already, darlin’?”

there he was. the familiarity of routine washing over you, turning your head to see him propped up against the brick, spikes on display and guitar pick flipping in between his clothed fingers.

“spider-man, my hero,” you sighed and clutched your non-existent pearls, a smirk on your lips.

“you know i hate that,” kicking off from the wall of the pub you just clocked out of, he stuffed his hands into his patched up jacket, his bouncy stride meeting yours on the pavement.

“i know,” you smiled, allowing your bag to fall from your shoulders and into his outstretched hand, as always.

it had become a routine, over the course of a few months, that the one-and-only spider-man would escort you home from work in the late hours. at first, it didn’t seem real. why would he decide to spend valuable time most days walking you home, when he could be out fighting whatever darkness lurks in the shadows? you’ve asked him, almost every time, but he always gives the same, vague answer;

“who else is gonna keep you safe, love?”

his legs were longer than yours, by a mile. so he had to slow his usual pace for you. naturally bouncy, his booted feet tapped against the pavement like a kick drum, and you wondered whether that was the radioactive blood in his veins, or his natural energy.

laughter flittered through the dark streets as you caught up, it had only been a day since you last saw him, but being a crime-fighting, fascist-killing superhero, there was quite a lot to pack into a 24 hour day.

he bounced off the walls of passing buildings, recreating his fights with the air that hung between you both, throwing in some exaggerated punches here and there, to elicit an extra giggle or two from you. you almost got lost following his animated recreations, but he kept an eye out for the roads ahead. he’d memorised all the paths leading to your apartment.

it had all started a few months prior, after a particularly long shift at work. constantly over the span of a few hours, this guy would not leave you alone. no matter how many times you refused his advances, a smile on your face, masking the unsettling pit in your stomach at the sight of his grin. drink, after drink, after drink, he ordered just to stare at you the whole night, crude gestures and words thrown your way.

you’d gotten used to it, working at a pub in the depths of london, it wasn’t ever unusual to get unwanted advances. but something about this guy, you couldn’t shake it. ~

“what time do you finish, ay?” his accent was thick, you placed him somewhere up north.

“i’m not sure,” you muttered back, forcing a smile.

“oi, come on! ‘course you know what time you finish,” his words were slurred, and his eyes hadn’t left yours once, “was thinking we could ‘ave some drinks together, tha’s’all.”

“sorry, i can’t tonight, i have to be up early tomorrow,” you giggled, and if he wasn’t so drunk, he’d definitely have picked up on the nerves lacing your words.

“come on,” vowels drawn out, he made an attempt to stand up to meet your height, the proximity of him sending a shock of fear to your heart, until a strong hand clapped against his chest, the force almost sending him backwards.

“pack it in, dickhead, they said ‘no’,” a deep, almost calming voice spoke, contrasted completely with the stern, threatening tone of his words.

you looked to meet your protectors gaze, and it almost stunned you. he was tall, taller than you, for sure. dark, smooth skin with an aura of pure mayhem, silver piercings protruding from his face. adorned with a ripped, skin-tight plain top and denim vest, littered with badges, patches and just about any accessory known to man.

his eyes were what really held you. a heavy look, dark brown with the most unique feeling of strength and power that you’d ever seen. you could’ve easily gotten lost.

deciding you’d stared at him long enough, though, you broke the eye contact, diverting it back to the man who looked a humorous combination of terrified and offended at the same time.

“‘s alright mate, we were just talking, back off, yeah?” his liquid courage built up, ignorant of the taller man’s hand still pushing against his chest, ring-clad hands seeming to leave an imprint.

“think it’s time for you to leave, mate,” he spat back, mimicking his slang.

a moment of silence followed. you’d fully expected the drunken creep to swing a punch, or at least bite back, but under the weight of the taller man’s stare, he seemed to lose all fight he had in him. with a final murmer of something you couldn’t quite hear, and unsure you really wanted to, he stumbled backwards, slipping into the crowd.

“thank you,” you broke the silence, to which the man shrugged.

“he was a pig,” he brushed it off like nothing, and you couldn’t help but smile at his attitude. raising his newly free hand, he stretched it towards you, tight in a fist.

“hobie, hobie brown,” he greeted, and his accent completely erased the ‘h’ from his name.

“y/n l/n,” you smiled, accepting his offer and spudding him, the cold metal of his rings against your knuckles. you couldn’t help but grin at the oddity of his presence.

hobie kept you company for the rest of the night, ranting about his thoughts and opinions of various important subjects, ranging widely from drinks of choice to the existence of capitalist propaganda in modern media, all of which you hung onto every word of.

it wasn’t long until he’d managed to book him and his band into a few slots on the pub’s makeshift stage that stood empty on the other side of the room, smiling to himself at how authentically excited you seemed to hear his music.

when he left, his vacancy was immediately obvious. the booming pub feeling oddly silent without him.

after closing up for the night, you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, switching the lights off with one hand and fiddling with the keys in the other, shaking the door to double check you locked it well enough. body aching from being on your feet all day, you yawned, stepping autopilot into the darkness. the night air was chilling, causing you to wrap your jacket tight around your body. cursing at yourself for not bringing another layer, or pre-ordering a taxi home.

“oi,” you heard from your right, turning quickly to the familiar call.

stumbling on the pavement, the drunken creep from earlier pointed towards you.

shit.

you hadn’t expected him to actually wait for you. it’d been hours since he left, he was insane. what was he thinking?

grabbing the keys from your pocket, you gripped them in your freezing hands in defense.

“where’s your little friend, huh?” he spat, clearly enraged by hobie’s interruption earlier. he stepped closer, and you stepped back, trembling as you tripped slightly on the pavement.

“ay, is this twat bothering you?” a voice called from above.

wait, above?

craning your neck up, you made eye contact with possibly the last person you expected.

“spider-man?”

and from that night, he’d met you every time. waiting outside the pub doors, no exception, to walk you home.

“hey!” spider-man’s upbeat calling snapped you instantly back to him, jumping slightly as you finally noticed he was directly in front of your face, white eyes narrowed on your demeanor, “where’d you go, huh?”

“sorry,” paying him an apologetic smile, “just thinking.”

“wanna clue me in, darlin’?” his tone was playful, but the soften of his masks expression felt genuine.

“just thinking about the day i’ve had,” you lied, unsure whether his spidey senses could tell. not that it was rare for you to think about how you met, but you didn’t want to bring it up again. if he could tell, he didn’t let on.

“whataboutit?” he sped up, slipping back to your pace and slinging his lanky arm over your shoulders, basically hanging onto you as you walked. he liked walking with you like this. it made him feel powerful, like he was keeping you extra safe.

“hobie’s band played again!” you exclaimed, and if he’d been paying attention, he would’ve seen the way your face lit up at the memory. unfortunately for him, his eyes were trained on webbing a chocolate bar from a passing vendor. god knows why it was still open, but he was glad it was.

“hobie, again, huh?” taunted spider-man, punching your arm playfully with the fist that gripped the newly stolen snickers bar, “starting to think you’re replacing me, love.”

“never,” you teased back, elbowing his side, hearing the jingle of his badged vest, “hobie’s just…”

ears pricking, he clung onto the words you were speaking, anticipating possibly hearing something he didn’t want to.

“he’s just so cool,” you breathed with a smile, and he almost verbally sighed in relief, stopping himself in order not to rouse suspicion. he smirked under his mask, “just got this feel about him, so easy to talk to, and he’s so talented! you know, i’ve almost learnt all the lyrics to his songs.”

his heart just about exploded. in fact, he thinks he could pinpoint the exact moment it did.

he played off his burning cheeks, clearing his throat and incredibly glad his mask hid his flustered expression.

“you should come see him, you know,” you looked up at him, and though you knew his answer was ‘no’, it was worth a try, “i can hide you in the back if you don’t wanna be seen.”

“come off it, love,” he dismissed, avoiding your gaze, but his back was tingling like pins and needles under the warmth of it, “i’m not keen to meet the man stealing you from me.”

“fuck sake,” you laughed and pushed his arm off you, brushing off his playful flirting.

his confidence was excelling. the friendship you had formed over the prior months had stemmed from his childish charm, and it hadn’t faltered once.

“well, here i am,” you brought your pace to a halt, hovering in front of the door to your apartment building.

“i’ll miss you tonight,” he fell against the wall, eyes stuck on you. you couldn’t see it, but you could feel his smirk.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, i finish at 11,” you stepped towards him.

“i’ll be waiting,” he kicked off from the bricks, raising his hand to ruffle your hair, much to your protest, before practically disappearing in front of your eyes.

you were left grinning to yourself, much like every night.

“what’s up, bruv?” hobie’s friend elbowed him harshly in the ribs, causing him to rip his eyes from you.

“nothing,” he huffed, but by the lack of sustenance and playfulness in his reply, his friend was less than satisfied. hobie was a carefree, reckless guy with a constant spurt of irony, and seeing him with a sullen expression and no bite back, was worrying.

“come off it, hobie,” another one piped up, sitting across from him with an empty pint in one hand and cigarette in the other, pointing the latter in his face. he huffed, “you’ve been slumping for like 3 months now, and you’ve only been writing sappy love songs.”

the table snickered, and even hobie’s lips curled into a smirk. his friend was right, he wasn’t even nearly like his usual self. he blames you for that.

“who is it then, huh?” his friend pushed, cigarette still hanging in front of hobie’s face, ash crumbling off the end, “has our ol’ hobie brown got himself a partner?”

“oi, you know i hate labels,” he smirked again, knowing he was lying. not that he didn’t usually hate them, but he couldn’t avoid the fact that every time you made your way to the front of his mind, he was urged to call you his. his partner. his person. his love. just his.

he always did hate consistency, anyway.

“another round, guys?” your voice ripped him from his thoughts, your scent somehow drifting above the sticky smell of beer and cigarettes, he pinned that down to his spider abilities, but he’d be a fool to ignore that he had simply just memorised the aroma.

“please, darlin’,” hobie’s friends chirped up, grinning at you thankfully. he cursed the burning feeling in his chest.

“i could do you guys a deal,” you smirked playfully, and he looked up to meet your eyes. you looked beautiful tonight, like usual. he was fucked.

“if you lot give us a song, it’ll be on the house,” you smiled hopefully, taking note of their usual orders just incase they agree.

“sounds like a plan,” hobie reached his hand out to you, open for a handshake, to which you took. soft hands falling into his calloused ones, he couldn’t help but notice how nice it felt.

turning away, you left to get their usual set up sorted, feeling him still watching you, to which you threw him a smile over your shoulder.

it wasn’t unusual at all. his eyes would always find you. at the table with his mates, his gaze would swim through the crowd to yours. even on stage, lost in the moment with himself and his guitar, it was you he always found his eyes trailing back to. it wasn’t like the other men in the bar, it wasn’t predatory desire or lust, but it was warm. it was safe.

he had three options, really; confess himself to you as hobie brown, coming clean about the way he felt about you, the warmth in his heart that spread across his spine whenever you smiled at him, eventually having to come clean about his alter-ego. he could confess as spider-man, to which he’d have to come clean about his actual identity. or option three. stay silent and suffer in his own pity. bite his lip and pretend his heart wasn’t yearning for you.

but, he prided himself in being able to speak his mind without hesitation. confident in his word, suffocated in his silence. he would always say: if he ever bit his tongue, to kill him there and then. well, here he is; begging for mercy at the barrel, his tongue bleeding from keeping his heart locked in his chest.

he was fucked. well and truly.

“anything special happen today?” spider-man nudged you, taking a worried note of your unusual quietness recently. it was the same night, he’d picked you up like normal, and hopped along beside you.

“the band played again,” a swelling smile bloomed on your lips, “other than that, not really.”

your voice was hollow tonight. easily mistakable with your naturally soft tone, but to his trained ears, it didn’t feel right.

stopping immediately in his path, his bouncy steps ceasing, you quickly copied him. confusion slipping behind your eyes.

“what’s up?” you questioned.

“you know you wanna tell me,” he stepped around you, arms falling over your shoulders from behind, heavy with his full weight. something about the mask, it gave him a confidence with you that he’d quenched as hobie.

you sighed and rested your head back against his chest, taking him by surprise. there was something intimate about the way your eyes were closed, body resting against him. your brain was hectic, he didn’t need his spidey senses to see that.

“there’s just…” you spoke, eyelids feeling heavy as you opened them, looking up to see him. head split in two, you were unsure if you even wanted to say it out loud, “there’s this guy.”

it was almost cruel how fast his heart dropped, plummeting like a boulder into the pit of his stomach. body stiffening, his head was spinning so fast he didn’t even have the conscience to mask it.

“i just can’t get him out of my head, it’s so stupid,” if your wistful look wasn’t answer enough, the outpour of dissonance he could feel from your body told him it was serious.

“not another fella tryna steal you from me,” he chuckled, but his voice was weak, vulnerable. you hadn’t heard it like that before.

untangling yourself from his weighted grip, you leant against the wall of the building you were stood in front of, staring up into the night sky. there was something so embarrassing about admitting a silly little crush.

“not another one, technically,” you spoke softly, a hint of a smile tickling your lips at the thought of him, he stepped closer, “i’ve already told you about him.”

and he stopped dead in his tracks. mind racing a million miles an hour, picking apart every word you said. was he stupid? was he reaching? seeing something that wasn’t there? he was the only one you’d spoken about, but surely not, right?

shifting closer again, his body begun to feel the heat radiating off you, barely an inch between you both. he towered you, as always, the spikes on his jacket and mask hitting the streetlights perfectly, giving him an orange glow. you bought yourself to look at him, and though you couldn’t see the eyes beneath, you felt his gaze.

insufferably close, closer than you’ve ever been, you could feel your heart in your chest. a tension that you hadn’t quite felt before, bubbling in the air between you.

“say his name, love,” his voice was low, lower than normal, and a twinge of familiarity hit your chest hearing the deeper tone, one you couldn’t quite pinpoint. chills dripped down your spine at the new found feeling.

gulping, you could feel his name in your throat, struggling it’s way out.

“hobie.” your voice was barely above a whisper, but considering he almost had you pressed against the brick, he heard every syllable. and god, did it sound good.

“again?” he croaked, just wanting to confirm, needing to hear it again, needing to hear you say it, relish in every beat.

“hobie,” you repeated, louder this time, more conviction in your chest, “i like him, like a lot.”

he went silent. dead silent, barely moving. heat radiated from him, and you could’ve sworn in the vacancy of sound that you could hear his heart pounding against his chest. reaching up, your hand trembling slightly, you placed it there. on his chest, feeling the material of his suit, the humanity of his heartbeat. he melted into it.

“are you o—“

“i need to tell you something.” he interrupted you.

it was your turn to be silent, eyes heavy with intrigue, begging him to continue.

without a word, his ring-clad hand ghosted your skin, drifting past the air between you and to the base of his mask, sliding along his neckline for the seam, and dragging it up over his face, revealing the man within.

your heart stopped, a thousand things flashing through your head, through your heart, surging in your bloodstream. you didn’t even know what to say, what to think, how to comprehend it.

“hobie?” your voice was small again, shrunk beneath the look in his eyes, the desire.

embarrassment waved through you for a moment, a sudden panic of the earlier confession, your chest pounding at the possible rejection.

he didn’t even leave the thoughts enough time to fester, however, because his hand that was holding his mask was suddenly flush against your jaw, the material falling softly onto your neck. thumb trailing the comfort of your cheek, revelling in the feel of your skin, warm against his hands, he leaned forward.

his lips were on yours, without a word. gentle, but rough. the tension escaping through the feeling of him pressed into you, desire leaping out of every shared breath. his other hand fell to your waist, and yours stayed firm on his chest, bunching the fabric in your hand to bring him closer. he obliged, of course, and the kiss deepened. his head spun.

pulling away for breath, you kept your eyes on his lips, disbelief swimming around your brain, colliding with the need to kiss him again.

“y/n,” his hand brought your eyeline to his, “i like you, too.”

you couldn’t help but smile, relief washing your body out.

“like, a lot.”

he kissed you again. and again.

a/n: hope u enjoyed!! pls let me kno if ur did, this is my first time writing for him <3 thanku!!!

[overtake]

I’m sorry we need about 5k more words of mechanic Daniel driver max pls and ty!!!

Part One

I’m actually so shocked (but pleasantly surprised and honored!) by people enjoying this verse because I almost deleted it without posting. I don’t have 5k more, but I can offer 1.2k!

I still lowkey hate this - and you can definitely tell I have no vision for where this story would go, hence why it’s just harping on the same 3 details we already knew - but it’s all yours and I hope you have a good time reading it anyway :)

Five minutes into pretending to examine an engine instead of obsess over what Max said, Daniel breaks.

“Did you mention me to Max?” he asks Cyril, trying to come across casual.

Cyril looks at him disbelievingly. “Max Verstappen is in our garage and you think I talked about you at all?”

Daniel lifts a hand to his chest and feigns being shot. “People love me, you know. Guys are all over this.”

Cyril heaves out a long-suffering sigh. “Get to work, Daniel.”

Daniel’s lucky, given his condition, that everything is relatively routine today. He does three oil changes, and he could kiss those people’s feet for it.

He’s mentally preparing himself to slide under a car, wincing at much more congested he’ll be once he emerges again, when Max suddenly appears in the corner of the garage.

“Hello,” he says. He does a cute little half-wave to get Daniel’s attention.

“Hey,” Daniel says, straightening and rubbing his grimy hands on his thighs. “Cyril’s working on your car, so he’ll have any updates you need.”

“It’s not my car, just a rental,” Max dismisses. “No, I just have …” He cuts himself off, turns a sweet pink on the apples of his cheeks. “You sounded sick earlier and looked really pale. I brought you soup.”

He lifts a takeaway bag from the cafe down the street, which usually specializes in ten dollar lattes and sandwiches with names so cutesy, you have to practice five times to order without shame.

Daniel smiles at the idea of Max Verstappen, world champion, saying one of those horrible names for Daniel’s benefit. “You didn’t have to do that. Thank you. Let me pay you back.”

Max shakes his head. “It’s my thanks for fixing the car.”

Daniel raises his eyebrows. “So what soup did you get Cyril, who’s actually doing that?”

Max scrunches his nose in disgust. “You cannot expect me to say the name Noodle Nest Paradise more than one time.”

“How many times did you laugh trying to get that out?”

Max shudders. “I pretended to speak really bad English and just pointed at the menu.”

“So you could’ve ordered multiple,” Daniel points out. Max very blatantly pretends not to hear. He focuses instead on pulling a little bag from the order and holding it up proudly, smiling a crinkly-eyed smile.

“I got you crackers!”

Eating soup with Max Verstappen is an out of body experience.

Daniel’s been eating his soup over the coffee table in the office because it felt wrong to make Max sit at the grimy, wobbly table in the closet-sized corner of the garage where Daniel and Cyril usually change and scarf down meals. This, however, means they’re stuck together on the loveseat. Max’s expensive skinny jeans knock knees with Daniel’s greasy coveralls when they get too into the conversation.

Daniel knows he’s being a terrible conversationalist, especially at first. His normal easy charisma is buried somewhere in the pile of tissues he’s burning through. He’s basically just answering Max’s rapid-fire questions about his life, his job, his family, his non-existent partner (“do you have a girlfriend or boyfriend or anything?” Max had asked, and looked remarkably pleased by Daniel’s answer of no).

Daniel’s about 87% sure he’s being hit on right now. It’s a nice confidence booster given how much of a mess he looks, but it’s not like it matters. Max is Max, and Max is F1, and Max doesn’t live here.

He likes Max, though, the longer they talk. He likes his eagerness, his down-to-earth nature, his total lack of interest in discussing racing. Max delights in all Daniel’s behaviours that usually make people roll their eyes and wait for him to be done, whereas Max leans into Daniel’s dumb songs or drawn out jokes. He likes the long lashes that frame Max’s bright, happy eyes, and soft double chin he gets when he ducks his head into his laugh.

Daniel’s not sure how much time passes before Cyril comes in, but he knows his voice has faded to practically nothing, and he’s having to constantly turn to avoid coughing on Max.

Cyril’s timing is rather unfortunate, entering just as Daniel breaks into a particularly rough wheeze. Max is patting his back gently, which Cyril will definitely have words about later. Presently, however, he seems too concerned about Daniel’s wellbeing to lecture him about appropriate contact with famous customers.

“Daniel. Go home,” he orders, voice kind but firm. His tone leaves no room for argument, not that Daniel really wants to fight him on it. He’s enjoying this, but his brain and body feel as if they’re wading through a pool of thick custard.

“Are you okay to drive?” Max checks. His eyebrows are knitted in sweet concern, like Daniel actually might keel over and die in the ten-minute ride home.

“All good,” Daniel promises. He stands, then promptly has to collapse back onto the couch when black spots dot his vision.

“I’m driving you,” Cyril says firmly.

“I just stood up too fast.” Sure, he’s a little woozier than expected, but he could do this drive blindfolded and half-dead.

“I’ll drive you,” Max says. “I mean, Cyril has work to do, but I’m just sitting here.”

“How do I know you won’t kidnap me or steal my car?” Daniel rasps.

“He’s not worth kidnapping, and selling his car probably couldn’t cover an oil change for the kinds of cars you drive,” Cyril informs Max. He ignores Daniel’s protests, then pushes Daniel back down to the couch when he half-rises from it.

“Stay. I will get your keys and bag.”

The second Daniel’s brain understands that he’s off-duty, that it’s no longer expected to carry him through the day, it mostly blacks out, and everything is a blur from there.

He’s pretty confident Cyril steals his phone to call his mum, which is vaguely embarrassing but perhaps necessary given his current state. He knows Cyril gives Max directions to Daniel’s parents’ place instead of his own. He feels Max’s hands help him into the passenger seat, and he definitely mutters some fever-addled sentences on the drive. That’s about all he remembers until he wakes up in his childhood bed, shivering and sweating while his mum runs a hand through his hair and forces medicine down his throat, before he falls back asleep again.

When he finally comes to enough to make his way downstairs, he finds his parents seated at the kitchen table. His mum jumps up, forces him into a chair and fusses over him while simultaneously lecturing him about going to work sick. His dad just sits there, eyebrows half-raised, until Daniel is settled with food and water.

“So. You had an exciting day at work.”

He slides a piece of scrap paper across the table. There, under some advertisement for gardening services, is a scrawled message in red pen:

It was lovely to meet you (again). I hope the terribly named soup made you feel better! :)

- Max

Under his name, Max has scrawled a phone number.

Daniel runs his finger over the lines, feeling the imprint of each number that Max etched into the paper. It’s neatly written, far more cautious and intentional than the rest of the words, as if to ensure that no digit could be misread or smudged.

Daniel pauses, processes the full note, and double backs to the word ‘again.’

“Yeah,” Daniel croaks through the stabbing pains in his throat. He stares at the word harder, like it might reveal what the fuck Max means by again. “I guess today was pretty interesting.”

[torawro]

WHEN BLADES CLASH, SO DO HEARTS. ( r. z. )

roronoa zoro & bounty hunter!reader.

cw ━━ ! minors, ageless and blank blogs DO NOT INTERACT. reader is portrayed as a black woman who is on the thicker / curvier side but you do not have to imagine it that way ! you are free to imagine the reader how you wish. canon divergent au (lowkey implied post-timeskip -> zoro is still a bounty hunter and never became a pirate). bc it's canon divergent, zoro will have both eyes (i know, i know). mentions and descriptions of alcohol consumption. canon-typical violence (i.e., mentions of weapons). light(ish) descriptions of blood & injuries. so much [sexual] tension between reader and zoro that it's palpable. contains sexually explicit content including smut (descriptions of it from an omniscient pov). gets kinda poetic at the end but y’all already knew that was coming. somewhat proofread.

word count ━━ ! 4.8k

notes ━━ ! my first published one piece fic on my blog . . . you'd think the first one would be about law since my current theme revolves around him but alas, this swordsman was prominent in my mind…i did lose motivation at some point but i still pushed through. this fic was originally something i drafted up to serve as the prologue for a much longer fic i'm writing (no hints, sorry < 3). and i thought writing this purely for contextual purposes would help with that longer story, but in the process it just turned into something else all on its own skskkskks so this is a modified version of that blurb. obvs this is also my first time officially writing for zoro so i’m a little nervous and to be honest, i’m not sure if i even like how this turned out…..regardless, i hope i portrayed him well enough (pls be gentle with me) >< also wanna dedicate this fic to naj, a mutual of mine who became a friend, but unfortunately deactivated her blog some time ago. she's been helping me with this drabble and the longer story i plan to write and i really appreciate her. reblogs + commentary are GREATLY appreciated ♡!!!

SHAKING OFF THE GRAVELLY SAND that haphazardly clung to the fabric of your pants, with little effort and practiced precision, you swiftly returned a large metal rod back into a black carrying bag before swinging the straps over your right shoulder. Rolling your arms to relieve some of the tension that resided in them proved to be a little painful, leading you to conclude that you most likely pulled a muscle somewhere when fighting the unknown men who had just attacked you. 

Said men were now lying unconscious on the ground, hardly breathing and within an inch of their lives. 

You didn’t kill them ━no, of course not ━ that would be a fruitless endeavor. Besides, you were well aware that your energy would be well-spent elsewhere, like searching for the next poor soul that had a bounty looming over their head. You were like a hunting dog, the scent of your next target set in front of you by the wanted posters littered around in each city or island you traveled to. Much like how the grim reaper awaited in the shadow of someone who stood inches away from the gates of death, you too would bide your time until the right moment to strike.

You took pride in the fact that the glint of your weapon would be the last thing that reflected in the eyes of your target.

The end result of your fight, if you could even call it that, was as chilling as the evening breeze that was brought forth by the wading waves of the ocean. You have made your mark on the flesh of these men, reopening some old wounds and creating new ones that would certainly scar forever. On levels of the skin and of the spirit.

With a heavy sigh, you adjusted your bag again as you walked towards the cluster of little lights nestled beyond the trees, within them existed this main island’s largest town. Your facial muscles didn’t so much as twitch as the pointed heel of your boots dug into the skin of your unconscious assailants— thinking nothing of their drowsy, muffled grunts of pain or the stark contrast between stepping over doughy bodies versus stepping on the hard earth.

The waxing crescent moon only slightly illuminated the dirt road as you made your way to the populated village, occasionally swatting away a fly or two. Soon enough, the mouth of the semi-dense woods opened up to reveal a wide gravel road. Across the opening was a bridge that stood over a flowing stream, and beyond that was the town. It was a cluster of buildings of varying heights lined up neatly street by street.

Lamps hung on every corner, street pole and ledge that would allow it, bathing all that rested under them in a pale yellow glow. It was quite pretty at night if you were being honest; and judging by its looks and atmosphere, you were sure that they’d have a nice inn around somewhere.

But first, a drink. And some food, you added as an afterthought, but mostly a drink. Your body could use a bit of external help to unwind after spending the last few days at sea.

It didn’t take you all that long to find out where the town’s bar was located, and you wasted no time ascending the steps that led to the double swinging doors. The clacking of your boots against the wooden floors upon entering the establishment were more or less drowned out by the chatter of the rugged-looking individuals who more or less made themselves at home.

And yet, despite the dozens of conversations that bounced off the walls of the tavern, the stares of everyone whose line of vision you crossed seemed to be louder. Much louder than any fit of raucous laughter or profane shout that surrounded you.

Your ears were even able to pluck out a few conversations. Hushed inquiries of familiarity, musings of what could possibly be in that bag dangling on your back, how the pants you wore emphasized the fat of your ass just right━ all things you let roll off your back and pretended not to hear. 

If it weren’t for your more reserved nature, you would have slashed that the throat of the man who made that salacious comment the moment it left his dried lips.

You took a random seat at the bar, not really paying attention to who sat on either side of you. Placing the cowboy-style hat you wore next to you and your belongings at your feet, you patiently awaited for the bartender to make her way down to where you sat. 

As you waited, you crossed your legs, one fleshy thigh over the other, absentmindedly twirling one of the bulky silver rings that encased your middle finger as you wondered what drink you were in the mood for today.

It wasn’t until several moments later, when your body and mind stilled enough, that you’d take notice.

Something felt . . . weird. ‘Off’ was probably a better word for the strange weight that suspended itself over your muscles. Whatever it was, whatever feeling or presence you sensed, it had your fingers twitching towards your bag laying idly against the table. And it only continued to linger in the air as the minutes dragged by.

The sound of the barkeep’s voice pulled you back into the plane of reality and away from the realm of your overactive mind. “What’ll ya be having tonight, honey?” She was an older woman, probably around the age of fifty but looked much younger, had deeply tanned skin, and peppered black and white hair that was pulled into a bun and rested at the base of her neck. 

“Hmmm . . . whatever your best cocktail is, I’ll just have that.” 

With a nod and an amused smile at you allowing her to have free reign, the barkeep turned around, set a shaker aside, and got to work preparing a drink of her choice to serve to you.

Then, something flashed in your peripheral vision.

It was so fleeting that you could have easily dismissed it as nothing had you not been on somewhat high alert already. It flickered in the reflection of the metal canisters that sat along the back wall of the bar. And whatever it was managed to startle you enough to jump start the pulse in your chest into a panicked overdrive so fierce that you heard it in your ears.

The frantic beating of your heart  never showed on your face, however━ your expression remained neutral. It needed to be for a woman in your line of work. Perhaps especially because you were a woman in your line of work.

Without any warning or indication, the cold sensation of polished steel licked and nipped at the warmth residing in your neck. The sharpened end of a blade rested on the jugular of your throat, pressed firmly enough that if you moved forward even a little bit, a stain from your blood would surely blossom on the katana.

“You…” a deep male voice spoke, sounding rough and rugged all around its edges. The rest of the pub seemed to fall silent at the man’s utterance of that one word, rather than his blatant display of threatening you with a sword. “Why are you here?”

Your eyes were the only thing that moved. Slowly, with a frosty gleam underlining your gaze, your eyes landed on the sword’s master, his name immediately flashing in your mind. His reputation as a bounty hunter sent a chill down the spines of both marines and pirates alike. Residents all over the four seas feared his name, and his name alone could cause people to question if the threads of their lives would be severed by the piercing edge of his sword.

“Roronoa Zoro….” Your tone was leveled and held an air of disinterest as you talked. You spoke as if you were tasting the very syllables of his name, taking the time to roll each combination of letters against your tongue. They tumbled from your lips with a smoothness you weren’t entirely opposed to━ it was almost pleasant, if you were being honest with yourself.

A practice you didn't normally engage in.

Upon identifying the swordsman aloud, a short wave of hushed gasps from the customers surrounding you filled the air. With speeds that almost seemed abnormal, the long metal pole resting in your black bag suddenly ended up in your grasp, one end of it hovering several inches away from Roronoa's neck; such speeds even caught the mint-haired swordsman off guard. “Getting a drink, of course. Isn’t it obvious?”

Before he could even part his lips to reply, the piercing shing! of steely iron being brandished cut through the thick tension that settled in between you. A long and heavily curved blade abruptly emerged from the blackened rod in your right hand, and oh so conveniently arced around Roronoa's neck, momentarily silencing him. 

The weapon you carried was a scythe, one with a retractable blade meant to disarm your opponent’s perception and therefore hinder their judgment. A scythe that was reminiscent of the tool Death used to carry out his grisly duties of executing souls and dragging them to hell.

In this position with the scythe’s blade practically wrapped around his throat, if need be you could swiftly behead him, or at least mutilate him; judging by how quickly he unsheathed his katana, his reflexes were pretty sharp. Still, the potential ease of killing Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro— in addition to the mild bewilderment reflecting in his eyes and the patrons’ silent gasps once they pieced together who you were— caused your lips to tick upwards, but your countenance remained otherwise stoic.

“And I’m assuming you’re here for the same reason. That, or you just couldn’t get enough of me during our last battle, and you tracked me down for more.”

Your previously dry tone had somehow morphed into one with an airy lilt, followed by a quiet chuckle that bubbled in your chest when you saw Roronoa's brows twitch and deepen with ire at your subtly teasing words.

You were referring to the last time you saw the swordsman on some obscure island that took root in the Grand Line; an island whose name currently escaped your memory. With you being a bounty hunter as well, your job was the only reason why your paths have crossed so often, and why you have come to know Roronoa on a more personal level such as this. Each time your gazes clashed, it would always result in an inevitable battle, which indirectly fanned the flames of an unspoken competition between the two of you.

If his current expression was anything to go by, this bar may very well be your next battlefield. “You lost that fight, remember?” He emphasized his point by digging the sharp edge of his blade a little further into your neck, the increased pressure causing your eyebrow to all but twitch, “Or did I hit you too hard last time we fought, and now you’re suffering from long-term memory loss?”

The edges of an insufferable smirk curled at Roronoa's lips— one that conveyed his confidence in his abilities and matched the glint in his eyes that began to grow hungry for a brawl. And now, the corners of your own lips broke into a small, amused smile— or perhaps it would be more accurately referred to as a sneer— and you responded by mirroring his earlier movements.

Pressing the sharp end of your scythe into the back of his neck, the blade was met with the resistance of the corded muscle residing there, and your gaze eagerly drank in the brief glimmer of pain that was but a ripple across his arrogant expression.

“I didn’t lose that fight. It was a draw, at best. Seems like you must not remember the excessive blood loss on your end. But anyhow, tell me something pirate hunter…” You uncrossed your legs to stand up and took one step closer towards Roronoa, careful not to let his sword further nick your skin even though it was already dangerously close to you, “How many bounties have you collected since we last saw each other? Three? Two? One?”

Your voice descended further into a teasing whisper, and Roronoa's indignation only grew with each number you hurled at him.

The samurai didn’t take your tone lightly, and perceived your step forward as something of a  challenge, one that his nerves and heart and bones pleasantly vibrated to the sound of. So he too took a step forward, away from the piercing curve of your scythe that hung behind him like a shadow.

Roronoa was a little taller than you were, so meeting his gaze meant angling your neck upwards whilst he simultaneously moved his face an inch closer to yours.  “You think you’re hot shit, huh? Try five, sweetheart.”

Your nostrils flared involuntarily at his bold claim, and something . . . something warm prickled underneath your skin at his referral to you as sweetheart. For some reason, that word━ especially coming from his lips━ was a bit harder to ignore compared to other comments about you from this bar's patrons. And what they said was far more conflicting than a simple term of endearment; even if the 'endearment' in question was so obviously meant to be condescending.

“Is that right? You think you're such a badass, don't you?"

"That's 'cause I am."

Roronoa's mocking sneer was punctuated with a step forward into your space this time; any closer and the front of your clothes might graze each other. The swordsman pushed the boundaries once more by adding a little more force onto the grip of his katana, enough to finally break the bonds of your umber tinted skin.

A barely decipherable noise of amusement and veneration rumbled in his chest when your blood dripped on the length of his sword, but your reaction was nothing more than an involuntary clench in your facial muscles.

"Yeah?" You questioned him with a glare and a tilt of your head in the direction of his blade that uncomfortably sat at the opening of your skin. The tightness in your voice was meant to goad him, but it also contained the sparks of a challenge━ and of something else you didn't want to identify━ that ignited in the pit of your stomach with an increasing amount of fervor.

"Yeah." His voice descended a little lower into a place that killed the next sentence on the tip of your tongue.

Your eyes then narrowed as you held Roronoa's taupe gaze, his overconfident words floated in the silent air between you like a speck of smoldering ash, ready to burst into something more intense and fierce the moment it touched the ground.

Then you shifted your cold gaze elsewhere, opting to let it lazily roam around the room. Everyone was staring at the both of you with uneasy expressions and anxious stares. You could tell that even at the slightest movement from either you or the swordsman would cause the panic bubbling beneath their skin to flood forth in waves.

If there was one thing about you, you preferred to be to discreet. It made your job a whole lot easier, and more enjoyable in the long run.

A hummed vibrated behind your plump lips and your glare returned to his. "Let's take this outside, swordsman. I'd hate to ruin this nice lady's establishment with scuff marks and your blood."

Roronoa huffed a scoff, the amused smirk from before uncurled into something more animalistic. "That's funny. But sure, I'm down. When I defeat you and spill your blood on the ground, it'll make perfect fertilizer for those little plants I saw outside."

You huffed at his cocky attitude and accompanied it with a roll of your eyes. Your stare pierced him for a moment longer before you rescinding it, along with your scythe that was still outstretched towards him. The mint haired swordsman followed suit after another beat or so.

"That's about as likely as a fish growing legs and walking on land." Your voice was thick with sarcasm as you fished out a cotton pouch from your bag; it was small in size, but heavy with Berry. As you slipped out a couple of bills to pay for the drink that sat idly forgotten at your seat, another hand forcefully placed several bills down on the counter.

That hand belonged to Roronoa. You had to force yourself from letting your irises linger too long, or else you'd start thinking about how rugged, calloused, and veiny it looked.

With a newfound general annoyance at both him and yourself, you proceeded to present the bills to the bartender, who looked as if she was one muscle twitch away from ducking under the table behind the counter. You offered something similar to a sympathetic smile to assuage whatever she was feeling.

"Don't bother." Roronoa called out.

When you turned around to greet his voice, he was sheathing the sword that he previously drawn and made his way to the entrance of the pub.

"What are you talking about?" As you inquired, the swordsman still allowed his back to face you, hardly pausing to properly address you.

"I said, don't bother." he repeated in a stern tone, as if that was going to elucidate exactly what he meant, "Now come on. I'm itching to cut you down so I can go lay down."

And without adding anything further, Roronoa eventually exited the bar and disappeared behind the doors.

You were starting to lose count of how many times you narrowed your eyes at the green-haired man, but your stare━ both equal parts vexed and confused━ rested on the doors he had just walked through as if glaring at them long or hard enough would summon him again.

With a sigh, you turned back to the thin stack of Berry he left on the table, eyeing it suspiciously. You weren't sure what he ordered or how much of it, but it look like quite a bit of money he'd just randomly tossed next to you.

Was he insinuating . . . . that he paid for both of your drinks? Could this be what he meant when he told you not to bother, because he already covered it? Such a gratuitous act of kindness, something seemingly so simple caused that weird fluttering to bounce against the walls of your stomach again.

Picking up your bag, you continued to poke and dissect his actions in an attempt find meaning in them as you tipped the barkeep, once more ignoring the stares of nearly every person in that building as you left.

The moment your heeled boots dug themselves into the ground, your peripheral vision was bombarded with something being swung in your direction at high speeds. Before you could even process what it was, you instinctively leapt out of the way, your neck jerking backwards to further avoid the object.

A grunt filled your ears, already knowing the origin of the sound. "Nice reflexes."

You exhaled an exasperated breath of air, turning your gaze to meet that of the mint-haired swordsman who had begun to unsheathe a second sword out of the three scabbards hanging from his hip.

"Can I at least breathe first? Set my stuff down perhaps?" You asked wryly, almost unimpressed, but you didn't waste any time removing the straps of your bag to set it down on a nearby barrel, still cursing the pirate hunter under your breath all the same.

"Didn't know you were that eager to eat dirt." The familiar hiss of your scythe's blade erecting from the rod sent a pleasurable chill up your arms. You held your weapon tightly at your side, your grasp around its length tightening ever still when Roronoa began to square his stance. Even when you were several feet away from him, you could still clearly see the crease in his brows becoming more prominent; he began to resemble some kind of beast.

But that glimmer in his eyes held no real fire in them━ at least not the one that would lead to anger; one could even say it was one of wild excitement. The swordsman already knew his thirst for a worthwhile fight would be sufficiently quenched once more.

"Shut up." With a grunt, Roronoa pushed off the balls of his feet to launch himself into a powerful sprint towards you. It was clear he wanted to close as much distance between the two of you as quickly as possible. His movements were reminiscent of his brief display of swordplay earlier in the bar, where he was one swipe away from slitting your throat.

He was fast, but the gritty and often dangerous nature of your job honed your reflexes to be faster.

Your spine bended as you briskly leaned backwards to dodge the double swipe of Roronoa's katanas. The sound of the sharp blades cutting through the very air around you. With it only inches away from your nose, it was enough to replace the blood pumping through your veins with pure adrenaline.

Using the momentum from your quick dodge, you allowed your back to curve into a bridge and kicked upwards into a backflip to move out of the way━ the corners of your lips twitched into a satisfied grin when you felt your foot collide with his jaw and chin.

Once you were upright again, you wasted no time lunging forward in a sprint, you body much lower to the ground than Roronoa's was. Your plan was to slash his legs to throw him off balance, but that plan quickly evaporated like smoke due to his quick recovery and immediate realization of what you were doing.

"Tch." Your tongue clicked against the roof of your mouth in annoyance when the swordsman was able to leap in the air in time to avoid your attack. He was high enough that you had to crane your neck to see. With that much height, the next blow was sure to be one with quite a bit of force behind it.

"Two-Swords Style, Nigiri...." The swordsman's orotund voice descended far from where he was suspended in midair, and you braced yourself for his next attack, "....Tower Climb Return!"

The following clash of piercing steel against metallic iron was deafening, swallowing up any other noise that reverberated around you. The sheer impact of Roronoa's attack created a thin ring of dust that encircled both your figures and violently buzzed against the pole of your scythe.

You gritted your teeth to remain footed into the ground, but the force was too much, and that shit-eating grin nearly unfurling at his lips was too annoying. It shook the steadiness in your legs and caused you to tumble back by several yards. By steeling your thighs and calves you willed yourself not to fall, huffing with effort and frustration.

It hadn't even been that long since you've last fought Roronoa, could he really have made noticeable improvements in a short amount of time?

Regardless of the answer, you weren't about to allow him the chance to prove himself.

The both of you then darted at each other again, your motions a bit more cutthroat this time, and a newborn determination to strike down the pirate hunter further fed the burning adrenaline that coursed through your body.

Reaching your arm backwards, you performed a horizontal slash that Roronoa parried almost instantly. With effortless control and graceful dexterity, you reached both arms behind your back and twirled your scythe between your fingers, shifting the weapon from one hand to the other, and attempted to cut him again.

He blocked that attack as well, the tip of the blade just inches away from his left eye. You saw something moving fast in your peripheral vision, and immediately jumped backwards to avoid the katana that was about to release your intestines from the confines of your stomach.

It was always a pain fighting Roronoa because he wielded multiple swords at once, which means battles with him were more drawn out than they needed to be.

You lunged at him once more, and began to administer a barrage of horizontal, vertical and diagonal slashes in rapid succession. Your constant switching from one hand to the other, in addition to its length and the impressive control you exerted over your limbs, you were able to create a variety of fluid, long and short-range attack patterns, barely allowing Roronoa enough time to parry.

The moss-haired swordsman was keeping up with the relentless flurry of your attacks quite well━ for a short while at least. Roronoa lost himself in his own inner monologue of searching for an opening wide enough to immobilize you, and before long, a red cut blossomed on his semi-exposed chest, the injury lazily drooling blood.

The amount of cuts both deep and shallow began to increase, tearing his skin asunder under the weight of your blows. Your scythe repeatedly made contact with the elongated ha of his katana as well as his tanned flesh, but it wasn't enough to deter him completely.

It should have been though, but the many encounters you've had with Roronoa reminded you that he was no ordinary man.

Within that bombardment of the numerous slices and projectile slashes of your scythe Roronoa had found a millisecond of respite, and used that brief pause to leap backwards and put some distance in between you two.

You weren't able to hear the aching cry from the muscles in your arms until after you halted your attack, but the adrenaline flickering in your gaze still raced around your irises unceasingly. Roronoa's own gaze was hard and unyielding, glistening with something you couldn't discern from where you stood. But even so, your body somehow knew to feel like malleable putty under his stare; it's as if it was instinctual.

And again your blades clashed against one another, a steady rhythm rose from the cacophony of noises that were generated from your battle with the swordsman. Your laborious breaths became synchronized with each other, heavy and full of effort. The thin splatters of blood became homogeneous with each other as the both of you took turns cracking each other's skin open. Your limbs moved about and against his in a deft fashion and every nerve in your body reacted to his.

So much so, you didn't even realize when it happened.

Your duel with Roronoa had been in the forefront of your mind entirely that you hadn't actively processed the moment when your ragged breaths turned to breathy pants. Nor did you realize the moment it was no longer a scythe and katanas clashing, but wet lips and warm extremities instead. That same glint that shimmered in your eyes all evening never faded even then; it still twinkled through the murky mist of lust that clouded yours and Roronoa's vision.

Whenever your eyes collided with that of Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro, an inescapable battle would always ensue━ it was tried and true, and it felt more like a promise. It was also true, although not externally expressed, that your fight with the mint-haired man was one that neither of you even wanted to evade.

With each brawl you learned something new about Roronoa, and you were repeatedly met with the reality and veracity of his skills, his reputation full-force. And when your brawl eventually led to the languid but hungry removal of each other's clothes, you learned more about Zoro, and the emotions hiding underneath his taut and rugged body. This learning curve was both all-consuming and tenderhearted, and you couldn't help but shiver at the fact you were the only one who could witness it.

And what good is a fight if he didn't learn from and about his opponent as well? Each new thing he unearthed about you was an incentive to further indulge your soft and fleshy curves, and observe how they seamlessly molded with firm, corded muscle. Completely unexpected, Zoro had become utterly fascinated with the warmth that resided under your icy, expressionless glare.

And when Zoro peeled back a new layer, when his lips hovered over an uncharted area of your skin━ hot, breathy, filled with groans of expletives intertwined with your name━ when the grip of his calloused fingers and his heavy cock simultaneously dug deeper into you, one leg dangling haphazardly off his shoulder, when your bodies meshed just like that, you moaned━ you knew you didn't want to stop fighting with him.

Again and again and again with each thrust, each roll of his hips, each sightless grope of your body, you knew you would gladly continue participating in this unspoken competition. You'd proudly don cuts and bruises if it meant you and you alone could have Roronoa Zoro like this. You'd keep at it with enthusiasm if it meant that your hearts would always collide so wholly with each other, not being able to tell where his ended and yours began.

( # ) @icy-spicy @godjo @tetzoro @triangularz @pookiesatoru

[kairiscorner]

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ A RESPONSIBLE OLDER BROTHER...

🍰 genre: fluff ~ !

✒️ word count: 1068

💭 summary: you never thought you'd cross paths with someone who once caught your eye in high school, much less as his younger brother's elementary school teacher.

🍥 author's note: ngl i feel like something like this alr exists out there, i just don't know if someone alr made something like this, so pls lemme know 😭😭😭 and i had no idea what exactly to call this au, but basically, choso and yuuji are half brothers and choso's completely human; they have a wide age gap, but choso's very close to yuuji and is an amazing older brother to him here (he's very involved in his life and supports him so much !!) AND I'M SORRY I MADE KENJAKU YUUJI'S MOM BY DEFAULT 😭😭😭 ik he's also technically choso's dad, but i had to fit the half siblings thing in somewhere TT

"excuse me," spoke a raspy voice from behind you. turning around, you see a tall man with dark, chin length hair and smoky eyeshadow looking at you; he sort of towering over you, coming off as slightly intimidating. "ah, yes?" you asked in a soft voice, forcing a smile. "um... i'm here to pick up yuuji itado—" "big brother!" the little boy's high pitched voice called out for him from within the classroom.

like a little tornado, yuuji slipped out of the classroom and embraced his older brother by the legs, yapping to him a mile a minute about how fun making the origami animals and finger painting were in class today. the man chuckled and pat his younger brother by the head, taking him into his arms and carrying him. "that's great, yuuji, but slow down..." he advised his younger brother, giving him a piggy back ride.

you couldn't help but smile at the brotherly affection yuuji showed for his older brother. "so you're the one yuuji keeps bragging about in class..." you say in a sweet voice, admiring how patient he is with yuuji. the man's eyes go a little wide, and across his face, a reddish blush appears on his cheeks. "well, um... i didn't realize my little brother spoke so highly of me..." "he does, all the time!" you explained, making the man blush a little more as the toddler yuuji played with his older brother's hair.

"say, sir, um, might i know your name? just in case, y'know, security might ask who picked yuuji up next time?" "um, kamo, choso kamo," he introduced himself in a low voice, with you raising your eyebrows at the familiar name. "k-kamo?" you repeated, as if the way the name rolled from your tongue felt strange. he nodded, already brewing up the explanation in his mind that he never failed to explain time and time again others asked how they had different surnames.

"y'see, yuuji's my half brother," he uttered as the toddler soon felt sleepy and was about to sleep on his brother's shoulders. "we have different fathers, but that doesn't mean he's a stranger to me," choso affirmed, letting yuuji rest on his shoulders. you nodded, feeling a little sympathetic about their family situation, but also feeling as though choso had been somebody you once knew back then, some time in your high school years. "i see... well, i'm glad to know you're both very close," you said with a smile, chuckling under your breath at how absolutely adorable yuuji looked when sleeping on his otherwise stoic looking older brother.

"but i have to ask..." you begin as you look over choso's face once more, searching for some familiarity you may have within his features. choso raised an eyebrow as your voice drifted off as you scoured through your memory where you may have heard the name 'choso kamo' before. you snapped your fingers and widened your eyes when you finally realized just who this man might be. "you were my classmate all throughout my first year in high school!" you exclaimed, grinning.

choso looked at you dumbfounded, he didn't realize you were his old classmate until you pointed it out. "you... were?" he asked you, unsure if the person he was remembering from his hazy memories of high school was the very person he was talking to right now, his younger brother's elementary school teacher. you nodded, smiling wider. "yeah! sorry, i just... i didn't realize it was you! you got taller, your hair's longer, and... i like your makeup," you muttered, giggling a little under your breath. it felt like just yesterday that you were sitting next to one of the most cold and aloof people you had ever laid eyes on in the small world you were in that was high school.

you could remember the goth aesthetic choso had, the chunky boots he'd sneak wearing and get in trouble for, the earphones that were always stuffed in his ears and the occasional lip rings he'd wear when no teacher or discipline officer was in the vicinity; he was oddly cool to you back then. maybe it was just your lack of adventure and rebelliousness in your teenage years, but choso always stood out to you as the kind of person you aspired to be; not goth or a rebel or anything like that, more like a person who lived out their freedom and individuality, throwing caution to the wind and living your life how you wanted to, that was the kind of person choso seemed to you, and you had always yearned to become that kind of person, even now, do you wish you were that free with your life and decisions.

choso's cheeks flushed with red once more, he nodded and murmured his thanks at your compliment. he cleared his throat and tried to look you in the eye, unsure if he should refer to you by the name you preferred to be called in high school, or keep the formalities and call you by the name yuuji called you with the honorifics and all. "i... i'm glad i met you again," he muttered, his face getting redder and redder by the minute.

you nodded and grinned wider. "same here. well, see you and yuuji around, choso; i'll be looking forward to seeing you more often now," you said as you headed back to the classroom to check on the other children, with choso nodding, gazing at you from under his eyelashes. "um, wait..." choso called out to you. "yes?" you asked him, turning around to face him. choso could feel his throat go dry as he struggled to find the words to express what he wanted to ask you right then and there. "c-could i... get your number? f-for emergency purposes, of course..." "...sure thing," you obliged, relieving choso, but simultaneously making his heart pound with anticipation as you wrote your number down and handed it to him.

"how responsible of you, really, i'm really glad yuuji has you as his older brother..." you exclaimed, with the corners of choso's lips curving into a soft, delicate smile. "makes me admire you even more, y'know," you added, making choso's entire face erupt into a blush, making your own face heat up as you smiled and giggled under your breath.

guess some things never change no matter how much time passes...

[misspookiehere]

HE TAXED HIS PEOPLE TO DEATH? His provided lots of flexibility in his tax system.

When Lucien was explaining Feyre he said if they don't pay in 3 days Tamlin is expected to hunt them down.

But during tithe Tamlin said they have 3 days or the offer double next tithe. He don't want to hunt them down.

Plus they can literally give anything. Money is not necessary.

Girly thinks Rhysand have a tree that grows money or maybe they got occasional money rain in Velaris. Huh? How do you think he is running his court.

THE WEIRD ORGY FESTIVAL?

Lo jiii now their fae tradition that they've been doing for thousands of years is now suddenly Tamlin's fault.

SOMEONE HAS TO GIVE THEMSELVES TO HIM?

Girly make it seem like he is dragging women to sleep with him. All the women participating in Calanmai is there on their own.

LOCKED HER IN

Yes he locked her in, biggest mistake but did he controlled what she eats?,did he forced her to do physical training?,did he forced her to work with no salary? Did his people in the mansion was verbally lashing on her? When she locked Nesta in the name of therapy they forced her to do all of these things.

Pls don't start saying that in Nesta's case all these things helped her. Bcoz in Feyre's case staying in the mansion will make sure she is still breathing. Do I need to remind you that Attor & Hybern were still lurking in the SC borders ready to snatch her any moment they got. Yes in SC borders bcoz at this point everybody knows she is in SC they don't exactly have to find her. They are more closer to her than she thinks.

GAVE HER SISTERS TO HER ENEMY?

I thought this one is clear. Looks like I still need to talk about this. Tamlin & Lucien didn't know about Ianthe's plan. How did Ianthe know about her sisters? Almighty Feyre herself told her in details.

And also didn't they visited her sisters when Rhysand was fully aware that Attor was tracking them. And then they invited those Queens who betrayed them later in the same house.

And don't even think about saying If Tamlin hadn't made that deal none of these would have happened bcoz he made the deal after Ianthe was already in the SC. That woman has her own agenda so it doesn't matter if he made the deal or not she still would have carried out her plan.

And also Tamlin's deal was not only to bring Feyre back. 1st of all the deal allowed him to spy on them and 2nd the other part of the deal was that he'll allowed them to cross the wall if they don't attack anyone in SC. Let's just say What if he hasn't made the deal then the war will still happen, they'll still cross the wall, the first court they'll attack will be his but without the deal they'll kill each & every person in SC. I would say it was a thoughtful idea but unfortunately not everything thing was fulfilled.

(putting this here bcoz I commented it somewhere & atleast 10 people said they don't remember & even more people said that this never happened & that I'm a crazy girl making fake scenes in my head)

NEVER TREATED HER LIKE AN EQUAL?

okay fine he didn't give her HL title (the title that didn't even existed) but he was marrying her in front of his people that means he is basically introducing her as the lady of SC ( if not HL) to his whole court . That still gave her lot of power plus respect. 

What exactly Rhys did? Married her privately with only one witness ( I'm guessing) that is the priestess. And then he introduced her as a whore in his court.

THE WHOLE COURT NEEDED TO BE RECONSTRUCTED BY A COMPETENT LEADER?

What kind of leader? Like Rhysand?      Haah Funny coz that dude can't even rule the other half of his court properly.

[gremlingottoosilly]

very surprised that the lovefool AU didn't have König spanking the reader while making her count every hit in German, starting over everytime she messes up 😵‍💫

GERMAN LESSONS

Your kidnapper decided to refresh your knowledge of German numbers. Unfortunately for you, Konig doesn't appreciate failure. TW and tags: Spanking, non-con, kidnapping, power imbalance, controlling yandere Konig, size difference, fingering

You messed up. 

At this point, you’re not even sure what set König – your kidnapper, as you learned to never forget – off. It might have been some slightly bratty comment, maybe your smile wasn’t cute and girlfriendly enough, maybe you were sleeping a bit too tight and refused to give him hug as he always made you do. It’s hard to predict him, with his mood swings going from almost being a loving boyfriend with an affinity for making you warm and nice for him up to a torturer who wants nothing but to punish your holes as harshly as possible. 

You messed up, and you don’t even remember how – perhaps, this is what made your punishment even worse. König has a desire to make you answer to his every whim, and when you’re as much as resisting even one small thing…

— Fucking brat. I was too soft on you, ja? 

He drags you to his lap, but it’s far from his regular affection. You could have expected kisses, maybe something else soft and pretty, maybe his hands hugging you firmly – but he drops you on his thighs like a dead weight, harsh hand pressing between your shoulder blades to make you lat flat. Ass up in the air, little clothes you had – only his shirt, of course, König fucking hated seeing his little captive girlfriend in actual clothes and not another of his sexual fantasies. 

You sob, you whimper, and you’re trembling because this is the first time he is like this. Violent and cruel in the bedroom – yes, he was kinda beating you up in his basement, but you thought that he wouldn’t drag this to your shared bed. You hoped that the worst punishment you could take is his dick up your ass or a very violent mouth fucking – not this. You hoped for a punishment to be sex, not pain. 

Not his huge hands striking you across your ass like you’re a bratty kid in need of a lesson. 

— I thought you could be a proper girl for me, Schatz. I trusted you. 

You’d say he sounds hurt, but you can recognize the sadistic gleam in his voice. König doesn’t even bother with preparing your skin first, he strikes as hard as he can – and you cry every freaking time because, oh god, it feels horrible, and you’re going to be sick, and you don’t know what to do except for crying your eyes out with every harsh slap across the plush flesh of your ass. Your skin jiggles with every strike, and his cruel laugh almost feels as painful as his hands. 

— I’m sorry! Pl…please, don’t…god…

You whimper, crying, just a dumb girl for big bad König, who has all the power over you now. Giant hands enveloping your asscheeks only to strike harder, to land blows equally on both sides of your ass. There is nothing sexy about it – you only feel a burning sensation and sweet numbness every time they hit lands somewhere new, not tearing already exhausted flesh with new pain. 

It’s like your bottom has been set on fire – he is preparing you for something far worse, you know, not even counting each strike. 

He drags his hand all across the redness of your ass, making you whimper from pain. He chuckles, knowing just how utterly pathetic you look right now – poor girl, can barely even think about getting your mind in place as you can’t even try to think about his hands doing all of this. You want him to fucking stop touching you, but you know that the chances are slim. Non-existing even. 

— Now, Schatz, it wasn’t that bad. Just a preparation. 

If that was a preparation, you don’t want to know what a real one will feel like. You whimper, trying to get up from his lap – maybe, if you cry loud and long enough, he will think about stopping hurting you. Maybe, if you’re pathetic enough, you’ll have the chance for mercy. Maybe, if you’re able to distract him from hurting you, he will think of other options for your body. 

Your hands are trying to reach his crotch – you don’t want to fuck him, but his dick is a far better punishment than his hands. You feel dirty when your hands are trying to hold onto his pants, taking them off as if you’re nothing but a depraved slut in need of a good pounding. Each ounce of dignity gets washed away as your hands softly palm his erection through his pants. Bastard is hard – you knew he was getting off from your pain, but being reminded of this so explicitly…

Only but he is striking you again, harsh palm against already swollen flesh. You yelp. You squirm. You cry. 

Of course, he doesn’t really care. 

— Being a slut won’t help you, dumb thing. 

You sob, hands retracting back to being awkwardly placed in front of your face. Your position on his lap makes your cheeks burn – both of them, which is even more embarrassing. At this point, you aren’t even sure if you’d prefer him cutting your limbs off. Maybe it would at least feel less humiliating. 

— I’m s…sorry, König, I…

He places a hand on your ass again. Softer this time, if only for a bit – your skin still stings as he continues to stroke your aching skin in a feeble attempt at reassuring. His hands are burning, and you don’t want to be touched like this, but even the slight human interaction is probably the only thing that will keep you sane right now. It might be pathetic, but just like a cat, you are crawling to meet the hand that has the power to softly cradle you. Like a domestic pet König made you to be, you hide your claws and present your rear to his touches. Maybe, he had enough. Maybe, this is over. 

His hard-on pressing in your tummy tells you another story. 

— Let’s do it this way, Schatzi. 

His other hand goes to dig in your hair, holding your head high enough to make sure you’re listening. You whimper from pain pulsating in your scalp but don’t make a sound – terrified of making this moment of kindness short-lived. 

— W-what? 

You give him the answer because you’re a good pet, a trained one, because your captor expects nothing but perfect obedience, and you would do anything to make the pain stop. Too bad that your “anything” isn’t even nearly enough. 

— Let’s teach you how to count, ja? 

He tried teaching you German, bit by bit. Dragged you a bunch of kid's books, the simplest expression took you days to learn because every mistake would mean an even rougher round of fucking, and every perfectly pronounced word would mean yet another round of “lovemaking” – soon, you learned to stagger your progress perfectly, being the most mediocre captive student this country has ever saw. You might be dumb, but…ah, no, judging by König’s standards, that’s it. 

You lick your lips, preparing for the worst. He is rubbing your ass softly, gently, but his touches aren’t bringing you relaxation – you can only wait for his to continue, to make you suffer more like he didn’t kiss you like a lover just a few days before, softly cradling your head on his chest and promising to bring you very nice cake if you’d continue to be a good girl and warm his dick with your pussy. 

— For every strike, I expect you to count. If you mess up, we will start over. 

— H…how many times? 

— Let’s start with ten, ja? You don’t look too strong right now, Katzen. 

You never looked strong, this is the sole reason why you’re even here. Not a proper soldier, not actually a fighter, just a fucking domestic girlfriend for a bastard like König, who has nothing but his ego and a rank that made you sick from how much power he had – people like him shouldn’t be in charge, even if he is a merc and not an actual commander. Even if he is nothing but a bloodthirsty hound, he still has way too much power over little ol’ you. 

You nod, but that’s not good enough. You grunt in acknowledgment, but it doesn’t satisfy him either. 

— I…I understand. Sir. 

— What are we saying to be polite, Katzen? 

— Please? S…spank me. Bitte. I promise I will count. 

You can feel his fingers twitching, trembling. He doesn’t like this little game either, it probably feels too artificial and awkward – you’d rather just be beat up by him, but alas, if he needs to take off some steam at the expense of your body…you aren’t exactly fine with that, but it’s not like you really have an opinion on the matter. At least it’s not needles and knives in your sensitive places – just his hands and your sore bottom. 

Then he strikes. 

First time, it felt like the worst pain in the world. Your ass, already sore and bruised, was heated up again – you cut down your scream because you know that he doesn’t want anything but counting. Nothing but your obedience, your pain, you might not want to be a spectacle for someone like König, but you don’t have even an illusion of choice here. You yelp, the only thing you allow yourself to do. 

You start counting. 

— E..ein. 

— Good girl. 

His fingers suddenly slip down to find your pussy, already wet and fucking messy for him. You can’t help it, it felt too wrong and too right at the same time – his hands on your body, his voice praising you like he didn’t just [unished you for as much as fucking existing. You whine, your body trembling with fear as he launches at you again – another harsh smack forcing you to remember all the numbers like your life depended on it. In some way, it really did. 

You lick your lips, biting into soft flesh to suppress your little cries. You can be stronger than this, you need to be stronger than this. 

König strikes your ass quickly, second and third time – you are keeping up as much as you can. Sobbing when he drags his hand lower, his fingers landing somewhere between our cheeks. There is still a lot of clean skin to uncover to reveal new pain – you’re sobbing between rounds, only allowing yourself to breathe when he pushes his fingers down your folds and plays with your core. 

It’s somehow worse than normal spanking. The pain was numbing, allowing you to slip into some other dimension. The pleasure is overweening, fucking with your brain like you should be thanking König for being so nice and stroking your clit between the rounds of punishment. 

You moan as he pushes a finger in, quickly forcing another slap on your already swollen ass. You don’t miss counting, but you do feel like your head is going to explode. Mind isn’t working enough to actually produce something meaningful – only pathetic chants of numbers and his name mixed properly. You feel like you’re going to suffocate. 

König appreciates the view – his darling, precious girlfriend, he never knew you could be any more beautiful but here you are, laying on his lap like a good kitten you are. With his hands bruising you, he should have punished you sooner – you have become so bratty lately, forgetting your place and who is wearing pants around here. He should have brought you across his thighs way sooner, maybe turn this into a regular thing and have you moan his name as you’re pathetically sobbing and begging for him to stop. 

He strikes you a few times more, his other hand two knuckle-deep in the wetness of your cunt. Such a slut for your boyfriend, you shouldn’t get off this kind of punishment – but of course, he can’t really blame his precious girl for being this fucking needy. He appreciated moving you from the basement, it’s much easier to be with his girl when you’re not rotting on some old mattress – yet, he feel that you started to get out of line as he allowed you too much over and over again. 

It’s a good thing he will be able to punish you even more. 

— It’s the fifth one, Liebling. Want a break? 

You consider your options, he can see your adorable face scrunching in, not understanding if he is for real or not. You’re pretty, too pretty to be this alone, small, and scared – he can’t help but lift your head again, hearing you groaning from pain as he strains your hair just so he can press his mask against your forehead. Mockery of a kiss, but he doesn’t want to face you right now. 

This whole fucking thing wasn’t comfortable enough for him. If only he could, he would just make you obedient through less awkward ways – but you’re so fucking bratty, it really is impossible. König smiles, pushing two of his fingers deep into your hole, stroking your folds as gently as possible. He is weak – he can’t stay mad at his favorite girl for long, no matter how much he wants to try and stand his ground this time. God, you’re too fucking adorable to resist.

— Please? You’re so cute, he might as well let you get out of your punishment. It’s not like him to be this soft, but he already turned your ass into a bruised mess, and if he comes any further, you might actually start to bleed – oh well, he doesn’t want this. Oh well, you will pay for this later – on your back, ass high in the air. Maybe he will try your ass today, just so he could have a nice and tight hole around him. A good way to make you shut up, for sure. 

You whimper when he is holding you close, soothing you like a desperate kitten – you cling onto him, all the brattiness going out of your body, just like he intended. So, so pretty for him, he doesn’t know what he will do with you later. 

He spanks you one last time just to hear your precious whimpers. 

God, just how much he fucking adores you. 

[bettyfrommars]

Death Becomes Us

Part 5: The Baptism vampire!Eddie x supernatural!fem!Reader

Summary: You venture into the Upside Down for the first time ever to go to a vampire bar called Sacrament, owned by an older vampire named Jareth (inspired by Jamie Campbell Bower & Eric Northman of True Blood), and end up being recognized by one of the employees. Hints to your past are revealed, and you end up with a new protector. wc: 6.8k

18+Only, mature content, vampire sex, vampire orgy,mention of being covered in blood, mention of someone dying in a car accident, mention of a dead body in a morgue, demobats, wielding a knife, visions of sex, vampire!Eddie.

Masterlist

A/N: A few things to keep in mind while you (hopefully) enjoy this chapter: the Upside Down is a place, but does not exist in the same way as in the show. Eddie's vampire origin story is different than the kas!Eddie origin story. All of the ST characters in this story are not acquainted in the same way they were in the show.

pls no minors beyond this point

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Part 5: The Baptism

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“Seatbelt?”

Windows open, music blaring, Eddie shifted gear on the GTO and motioned for you to strap in. You noticed that he wasn’t wearing his, but then again he had the immortality thing on his side.

“Mind telling me exactly where we are going?” You asked, clipping your lap belt and adjusting the strap.

“I told you,” Eddie cleared his throat. “A vampire bar.”

“But, I work at a vampire bar,” you added. “It’s not exactly new to me.”

Eddie barked a laugh, clamping his hand way up high on he steering wheel. “Those geeks who go to Main Vein are babies, they are all fairly new to the life. No self-respecting vampire with any real years under their belt would go in there.”

“So, you don’t have any self-respect, I assume?” You chided, being that Eddie had been a frequent flier at Main Vein.

Eddie shrugged. “I’m a baby vampire compared to most. I’m talking about vampires who were turned hundreds of years ago. Maybe even thousands in some cases,” he corrected.

A thought crossed your mind as you looked around at the polished and detailed interior of the vehicle you were in, eyeballing the guitar pick necklace dangling from the rear view mirror. “You’re not taking me somewhere in a stolen car, are you?”

Eddie licked his teeth. “Nah, Princess. This baby is all mine.”

The downtown area of Hawkins turned into suburban houses, and then opened up to a long highway flanked by thick forest as the muscle car zoomed along and you watched it all fly by from your window.

A corner of your brain flashed to a daydream just then. One where Eddie’s hand came over to grab your leg, squeezing it, and when you looked over, he’s licking his lips, eyes roaming your body. “Pull over,” you whisper to him, and he immediately obliges, peeling onto the side of the road, tires spitting up gravel, and whips it into park. Eager mouths meet in the middle, over the console, and his hand darts up to cup your breast and thumb your nipple over your shirt. You reach over to palm his erection, your pussy already throbbing and trickling between your legs. It isn’t long before you’re straddling his lap in the driver’s seat dry humping, bare breasts bouncing, begging him to bite you as his eyes go black.

“Did you hear what I said?” Eddie asked.

“No, I--” you swallowed to wet your dry mouth. “What was it?”

He rested the side of his hand on the dash to point in the direction of a green and white street arrow pointing down at a paved street that curved to the right. “It’s a little jarring at first if you’ve never been, but you’ll get used to it.”

Indeed, you’d never been to the Upside Down, but you had heard the stories, and forgot to exhale a breath stuck in your chest as Eddie fishtailed around the corner and a dust cloud enveloped the car. There loomed a big, white church with round windows and a large bell at the very top; it was enormous but also quaint, with flower baskets hanging from the porch and a well kept lawn. Up ahead, you could see a bridge; an old, covered wooden bridge at the end of a narrow, paved road, with a path leading directly to it, a crescent moon stamp in the dark blue sky.

“You ready?” Eddie asked, slowing down to hit the lip of the road with a bounce.

“Sure,” you replied, eyes ahead, getting closer to the bridge and further from the church.

You tried to fix your eyes when you realized the other end of the tunnel appeared to offer nothing but a pitch black void, and not a glimpse of the other side of the woods, as you would assume.

“What the---” you whispered the partial question to yourself just as the tires met the wobbly wood planks and you were under the shelter of the bridge, heading into a big, gaping nothing.

Eddie turned to get a glimpse of your face as you took in what it was like to go to the other side for the first time, and he tried not to smile, but lost the battle.

“Here we go, Princess,” Eddie mumbled, continuing to keep his foot on the gas without any aid of the break as the GTO met with the inky blackness.

Your our eyes closed reflexively at the way the car seemed to meet air and fall, gravity pulling it down, but only for a second or two before the wheels met with the ground again.

You opened your eyes to find that you were somehow on the same road, but it was also, very different. The grass on either side was dead and the dirt was dry; all of the surrounding trees were just bare limbs and jagged trunks jutting out of the earth. The sky was the color of a purple bruise, and you spotted a few large, odd-shaped birds soaring above.

“Demobats,” Eddie said on an exhale, following your line of sight, answering a question you hadn’t asked.

“Demobats.” You repeated the name as you watched a few loop lazily in the sky while Eddie followed the road and headed back toward the old church. “Do vampires turn into Demobats?”

“Damn, I wish,” Eddie snorted a laugh. “Now, that would be fun. But no, we don’t get to do any of the cool shapeshifting stuff of legends, and let me tell you, I felt robbed when I found that one out.”

Now, your focus was on the old church that you’d passed earlier, mouth slightly agape at the transformation. Matte black exterior instead of white, it loomed like bad news with bars over the round windows and a human skeleton hanging from the top rafters where the old bell used to be. Golden light filtered out from the double story building, and there was a large parking lot to the left filled with cars and motorcycles. A few enormous demobats perched along the roof; waiting and watching.

“The Demobats are a part of a hive mind, but they have free will,” Eddie continued filling you in on the set of Dracula that you had just landed in. “If a vampire bonds with one, the creature becomes a companion or protector.”

“Do you have one?” You asked right away, realizing you surely would’ve spotted a demobat hanging around the trailer park.

“Nah,” Eddie shrugged. “I’m not really a fan of them myself. Plus, it only works if you reside in the Upside Down, I think. Demobats don’t care much for humans.”

You were staring at the ones on the roof as they turned their heads to maintain eye contact with you. “That’s good to know,” you said under your breath.

The front door to the church opened as you passed it and you got a glimpse of the red light spilling out, and the crowd of bodies inside, loud music thumping in your chest.

Eddie waited for two tall, pale vampires with platinum hair in black trench coats to cross the parking lot in front of him before he continued in to park.

“Stay there,” he told you. You watched an abnormally tall and muscular, bald man with tattooed lines down his face get off the motorcycle a row ahead of you while Eddie came around to your door.

He opened it and extended his arm as if showcasing the parking lot. “Shall we?”

Although fascinated by this new peak into the odd world of vampires, the fact that this was not at all “on the way” to the trailer park made you a tad suspicious. What did vampire Eddie have planned for you?

The air was thick—humid without being warm or wet—and it smelled like burning firewood with a tang of metal. “Do you want to take my arm or hold my hand?” Eddie asked, running the tip of his tongue over his top lip, letting his eyes flick down your body. “It’s up to you, but we need to send a message that you are with me. It’s for your safety.”

“Arm is fine,” you swallowed, hooking your elbow with his, bare skin on the leather of his jacket. Behind the church was a dense thicket of forest, and the air looked like someone had just blown the fluffy bits off of a big dandelion. You palmed his bicep, feeling the bulge of muscle there, and he tucked your arm close, pinning it to his side.

From the few vampires you’d already seen in the parking lot and on the steps of the church, they were, indeed, physically much different than the vamps who occasionally popped into Main Vein. A group of guys rolled up on their motorcycles; long hair, earrings, bone jewelry, dressed in all black.

“I think that’s a human,” you noted, whispering to Eddie as you spotted the guy who worked in the produce section of the grocery story you frequented.

“Humans are welcome here, “ Eddie shrugged. “But it’s a huge risk because most of the vampires around these parts don’t follow Mainstreaming rules, they don’t like the peace pact that was made with Hawkins. They’d like it to go back the way it was: all of just hiding down here and coming out to feed in the shadows of night like feral animals.”

He squared his shoulders and stretched his neck as you both made it up the stairs. You passed a huddled group of three vampire women in latex outfits sprawled on the steps who seemed to hiss at you as you walked by.

There was a short line to get in the door, and a tall, dominatrix looking woman in a leather bustier with red hair and knee high stiletto boots was checking ID’s and apparently getting a read on people. You noticed her eyeball you a few times as you waited, zipped close to Eddie’s side.

She framed her hips with her hands and took an intimidating step toward Eddie; the two sized each other up with a serious lock of their eyes, but you noticed Eddie had a small smirk lifting up one side of his mouth.

“Edward,” she arched an eyebrow, the extremity of her heels making her just as tall as him.

“Maxine,” Eddie returned. You were so transfixed by the vampire woman in front of you, you barely noticed when Eddie slipped your arm down and took your hand in his. He squeezed it once, quietly reassuring you.

“Only Jareth calls me Maxine, you know this,” and then all of her attention went to you. “You can call me Max,” she said, looking you over from head to foot.

“She’s with me,” Eddie told her.

“I can see that,” Max inclined her head. “Welcome to Sacrament. What brings the two of you to our little corner of hell this evening?”

“She’s never been to a real vampire bar,” Eddie pumped his hand on yours again; it was smooth and cool, dotted in rough callouses. “Or to the Upside Down, for that matter.”

“A virgin, how sweet,” Max cooed sarcastically. “So, what is this? A date?”

“No!” You said it so fast, it made Max chuckle.

“Wait, what is that smell?” Max sniffed the air, got closer to you, and sniffed some more. She got so close, your noses were almost touching. “I can smell your blood, sweetheart, and damn does it make my mouth water.”

“Max—” Eddie warned.

“I know, I know,” she took a step back. “Okay fine, she’s yours. But I won’t be the only one who wants a taste, I hope you know.”

Eddie knew from the moment he met you that you were special. Not just because of the cotton candy electricity in your blood, but also the way you’d looked at him with those white eyes that first night out between the two trailers. You were human, but you were also something else, and he intended to find out what.

Max stepped back, allowing the two of you to continue on through the main door. Inside, the lighting was dim; all deep red and tangerine hues. From large speakers in the back, the song ‘In darkness you will feel alright’ by Horror Vacui filled the air. A long bar to the right, a few chairs and tables scattered around the middle of the room, and then a large dance floor where vampires writhed, some dancing at lightning speed, as if you were watching a video being fast-forwarded. There were two platforms on either side of the floor where dancers worked their bodies on a pole, slithering and spreading their legs wide. At the far back was a stage of some sort, and you could see a drum kit and a microphone.

You slipped your hand free of Eddie grasp, and he let you, but he stayed close; close enough that his arm was always brushing yours. “Drink?” He asked, shouting a bit over the music.

At the bar, you surprised Eddie by ordering straight whiskey, and then he ordered one of the synthetic blood substitutes called NuBlood. The vampire bartender stared at you with blank eyes for a long time as Eddie made the introductions; his name was Craven and he had long, black hair and a wash of dark tattoos over his chest and arms, exposed under the leather vest he wore.

“I see you brought a snack,” Craven flicked his eyes to you as he handed over the drinks. Vampires had the ability to retract their fangs, but Craven’s were out and long, cutting down into his bottom lip

“If that’s what you’d like to call it,” Eddie gave Craven a final nod and palmed both of the tumblers, determined to carry yours as well, and you followed him to a table.

Taking a sip of your whiskey, you chanced a longer look at Eddie. He had one elbow hooked behind the back of the chair, neck muscles tight as he grazed his full bottom lip with his teeth thoughtfully, his stare fixed somewhere in the distance. But then he looked at you and you lost your nerve, dropping your chin, lowering your glass.

You noticed a middle-aged man dress like an accountant in the middle of the dance floor grinding with one of the male vampires. The accountant had two sets of fang marks on his neck and the two seemed like they knew each other intimately.

“That’s a Fang Banger,” Eddie apparently knew exactly where your attention had gone, and now you were both trying to watch without making it obvious.

You’d heard the term before, but always had your questions to what exactly it meant.

Eddie continued. “Most of the humans who come here like to have sex with vampires and let them drink their blood,” he worked his jaw as he turned the glass in his hand. “And then of course there are humans who like to ingest vampire blood for it’s euphoric highs and healing benefits.”

You turned to face him. “Am I a Fang...Banger now that I drank your blood?”

“Not technically,” Eddie smirked, but shyly, gaze landing on his glass. “But if you’re interested I think I know a guy.”

For some reason, that little flirtatious moment gave you butterflies and you bit your lip, turning your attention back to the dancers on the floor.

“Didn’t you say you had to come here for work?” You were flustered to change the subject.

“I need to pick something up from a guy here,” he answered, ever so vaguely. “Finish these drinks first and then I’ll deal with it.”

That was when you saw him. Or, he saw you---you weren’t sure which happened first.

On the back stage, there suddenly stood a tall, blonde vampire with hair to his shoulders, slicked back from his face. His features were beautiful; perfect almost to the point of being surreal. Black shirt unbuttoned down to his navel, leather pants, fingers and wrists adorned in jewelry, and lips that were almost ruby red against his pale skin.

Max was on stage too, right next to him, talking as she continued to glance in your direction.

The tall blonde vampire’s gaze never strayed from you as he took in whatever information Max was giving him with a tilt of his head.

“Who is that guy on stage that keeps staring over here?” You tried not to look too obvious, leaning closer to Eddie.

Eddie grumbled. “That’s Jareth. This is his club.”

The vampire named Jareth had a very ancient, even otherworldly look about him. Confidence literally oozed from his perfect posture.

It wasn’t long before Jareth and Max were exiting the stage, and parting the crowd, headed in your direction. More like, the crowd parted for them; they were all in awe of his presence.

‘Aw shit, here we go,” Eddie said under his breath, fingering the rim of his glass.

“Well, well, well,” Jareth said with a velvet voice. He kept his arms to his side, and Max had hers folded across her chest. “What do we have here?” He had the lilt of an accent; British, perhaps?

With an air of reluctance, Eddie introduced you, and you followed his lead, getting to your feet, so that the two men would be eye to eye.

Jareth made his way around to your side of the table, sinking in as close as he could without breaching your personal bubble, and took your hand. “The pleasure is all mine,” he told you, bringing the back of your hand up to brush his lips against your knuckles, maintaining eye contact with you. His eyes were so blue, they were almost purple. You didn’t have to glance over to notice the way Eddie stiffened.

“You’re right, Max,” Jareth cooed. “She does smell good enough to eat.”

Eddie moved up closer to you, body flush against your arm. When Jareth finally released your hand, you turned to check in on Eddie, not realizing his mouth would be mere inches from your face, his hand snaking around the back of your hip.

“This is her first time,” Max reported with an air of amusement on her face.

“I’m glad we could be your first,” a smile warmed across Jareth’s face to show that his teeth were perfectly beautiful and white. “You’re just in time for The Baptism.”

You couldn’t have been more confused.

“That is,” Jareth continued, inclining his head at Eddie. “If it’s alright with your babysitter.”

“Only vampires can receive the Baptism,” Max added, smugly. “But you’re welcome to watch, sweetheart.”

In a flash, Jareth was face to face with you, right in your bubble this time, and you flinched a bit as his hand came up to cup your jaw, smoothing his thumb along the scar on your cheek. In a dreamy voice he said: “I do so love a girl who looks like she has stories to tell.”

Eddie seemed to be playing along for the sake of appearances, but you could hear him growl in reaction to the unwanted touch; you could feel it vibrating in his chest. You got the idea that Jareth knew exactly what he was doing by the way he winked at Eddie.

“You go with Max,” Jareth told you. “While Eddie and I finish up some business in my office.”

You gave Eddie a tentative look over your shoulder, wondering if this was a bad idea.

“I promise no harm will come to your little pet,” Max’s voice dripped with boredom and sarcasm. “And I won’t even take a nibble.”

You stayed close to Max, making your way through the sweaty crowd on the dance floor, checking over your shoulder only once to find that Eddie and Jareth were already nowhere to be found. Max’s shiny latex corset laced up with ribbon in the back, and on the exposed skin above was the top of some sort of large tattoo; it almost looked religious in nature like a Mother Mary motif. She led you down a wide stairway lit with red bulbs from above and the walls were painted black. You heard more music thudding below; you could even feel it in your feet.

“Watch your step,” Max warned as you took the final stair in to a hallway that was so dark you had to squint. Then there was another windowless door made of heavy metal, and it was guarded by that scary vampire with the bald head that you’d noticed in the parking lot.

He immediately stood up, flustered at Max’s presence.

Max patted his arm. “We’re just here to watch, Ronnie,” she told him, and he only glanced at you briefly before opening the airtight door with a loud clack and stepping out of the way.

Once you crossed the threshold, you’d be permanently separated from Eddie, and locked behind a bulletproof door. You only had a second to consider this before it clicked shut behind you.

In front of you now was a large room with a DJ spinning music inside a plexiglass box at the far end. The group of vampires who were already there were all too lost in their own world to notice or even care that someone had just come in. You continued to follow Max as you took in the fact that there were yoga mats and shower drains lined up along the floor.

“In here, sweet cheeks,” Max guided, opening another door and flicking a light on. The light was another deep red crimson color, so not much light at all, but you could see that there were three tiers that went up in elevation, and a row of chairs along each level, all facing a large picture window; the window faced the spacious room with the drains on the floor and the yoga mats.

She told you to take a seat, and you found one in the first row, lowering yourself into it with a noted level of hesitancy. In the seat next to you, Max patted your thigh. “It’s a guilty pleasure of mine to expose virgin eyes to the Baptism. I know you’ll love it.”

Again, you couldn’t tell if Max was being serious, or if she was still being flippantly sarcastic.

Over the speakers, an electronic female voice announced “2 minutes until The Baptism” and it was then you heard the rush of footsteps upstairs; vampires coming down to be a part of...whatever this was. The DJ behind the protected enclosure had green and black hair as the dark, pulsing music played, and a bit of fear hitched in your chest, mouth dropping open at the way the bodies flooded in through the doors. They were making out with each other and swarming in one large mass.

The energy down there was different than above. There was something more primal and… hungry. Perhaps a side of these monsters that they didn’t want to or couldn't let other humans see. You were too focused on the scene in front of you to notice the way Max kept glancing over, deeply amused by you.

The feminine, electronic voice began to countdown the seconds from 10, as the vampires danced and undressed each other, eyes black and fangs out. One of the women you recognized from the from steps earlier seemed to be looking directly at you, sneering, licking her pointed teeth, her short black hair spiky around her face.

“We can see them, but they can’t see us,” Max offered.

3...2...1

Your eyes followed the sound of the click: shower heads popped out from the ceiling. The mass of vampires tilted their heads back and opened their mouths, and then a red liquid you assumed was blood shot out of the sprinkler heads like water, raining down on everyone there, soaking them.

That was when the debauchery really started, and you realized what the yoga mats were for.

The blood shower worked them into a frenzy and they began to lick it off of each other, undressing each other as cocks and breasts were exposed, everyone reaching out to fondle their neighbor with unbridled enthusiasm. Some fell to their knees to orally please, and others were flat on the ground, a puzzle of fucked holes and faces, drinking the blood as they also used it for lubrication. Vampires had no fear of contracting STD’s or getting pregnant, so reasoned that it was all fair game. One of the vampires with long hair, wearing an enormous, lifelike, strap-on dildo, flicked her head back and a splash of blood flecked the window in front of you. A few continued to dance around, lost in the music and you had to look away from the fornication, bashful suddenly, but Max found your eyes.

“Have you ever done this?” You asked her. She was poised in her seat, legs crossed and fingers laced over her knee.

“No, never,” she admitted, to your surprise. “But I do so love to watch.”

While two naked vampires fucked doggy style on the floor right in front of your eyes, and the one on their hands and knees sucked another vampire off, you wondered if Eddie had ever done this. You wondered what it would feel like to see him standing out there, watching you, beckoning to you, while naked and covered in blood. The part of you that had ingested his crimson gift whispered that you would let him split you open right there in front of everyone, begging for his fangs sink into your throat.

It took all of your strength not to run into Eddie’s arms when you finally made it back up the stairs with Max. There were only 10 or 15 people on the main floor at that point, most of them human familiars, as the rest of the clientele were still downstairs breeding. The sprinklers were only on for five minutes or so, but it was enough to drench all of them as they fucked each other with insatiable hunger.

Eddie pushed off the bar when he saw you, eyes lighting up with wholesome relief.

“How was it?” He asked, taking note that Max was close behind you.

“Traumatizing,” you answered, even though a part of you had enjoyed it, but that was a part of you he didn’t need to know about.

“It was a pleasure to take your girlfriend’s Baptism virginity,” Max batted her eyes a few times.

Simultaneously, you and Eddie both:

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“I’m not his girlfriend.”

“Whatever you say,” Max goaded, hands on her hips, waiting to see you both out. Craven was not too far behind her, both hands braced on the bar, staring you down with an intensity that seemed unnecessary at the time.

Eddie extended the crook of his elbow to you. “Let’s get you home.”

----------

“I know that girl,” Craven told Max once you and Eddie were long gone.

Max tilted her chin up, regarding him down the end of her nose. “I’m listening.”

“I read about her in an Unsolved Mysteries forum I belong to, it was a really odd story,” he wiped his hands on a towel as he talked. “At least, I’m pretty sure it’s her. That scar on her cheek, it’s unmistakable.”

Max gave a roll of her eyes. “Spit. It. Out. Craven. For fucks sake, I’m rotting internally over here.”

Jareth walked up beside Max, standing close, working his jaw.

Craven leaned forward, resting on his elbows. “There’s more than one story about her, both equally strange. First, supposedly, she was in a car accident, dead by the time the paramedics got there,” he paused for a beat.

Jareth looked out the bars of the front window just in time to see the taillights of Eddie’s GTO glow bright in the distance, on his way back to the crossing.

Craven spread his fingers on the bar as he explained, his face dire. “But, her body was stolen from the morgue, and it was never found.”

Max and Jareth exchanged a look. “So, she’s a ghoul? A zombie? What? I didn’t see any rotting flesh,” Max pushed. “She smells too good to be dead.”

Craven held his hand up. “Okay, but get this---apparently her grandfather ran a funeral home, and she lived there with her dad in the same house with all of the coffins and the embalming and whatnot. The rumors were that her dad, Dr. Wesley, was a complete nut job. He was some kind of genius, flew through medical school, became a surgeon.”

Max took a few steps closer, balancing her hip on one of the stools.

“But then his wife found out she had cancer and passed away 6 months later, when Eddie’s girl was just a teenager. After her mom died, her dad went off the rails. Became a real reclusive mad scientist, had some kind of laboratory in the basement where he brought road kill back to life and returned them to the woods.”

“That brings us back to her being in that car accident and disappearing from the morgue,” he paused for dramatic effect. “In the forum I belong to, a bunch of people suspected that he brought her back to life somehow, because---now listen to this---when he died a year after that, several witnesses said they saw her standing on the porch, clear as day.”

Max rolled her eyes. “If you’re fucking with us, I’m going to be very upset.”

Craven put his palms out as a sign of surrender. “Not fucking with you at all. But, I haven’t gotten to the best part yet.”

Jareth smoothed back his hair, waiting.

“In his will, Dr. Wesley left the house and all of his belongings to a woman by the name of “Dove”, and everything monetarily was handled through a third party. That was just a few months ago.” He took a sip of NuBlood and rolled his neck. “Jump ahead to a few weeks ago and, did you hear about that bus that got t-boned and then flipped over onto the train tracks, pinning all those kids inside?”

Max shook her head, but Jareth nodded slowly, eyes narrowing with his full attention, nostrils flaring slightly.

“And how somehow, miraculously, the bus was pushed off the tracks and out of danger just before the train came? And then the bus was flipped back onto it’s tires so that the kids could get out? Well, about ten of the kids described our new friend to a T, right down to that cheek scar.”

“Of course, no one believed the kids,” Craven shrugged. “And it wasn’t a vampire because it was still daylight out. But those of us who’ve been following this story think she’s reanimated, like Frankenstein’s monster, and somehow it gave her superhuman strength.”

“This is a stupid story,” Jareth intoned. “Of course this is all rubbish. Myth, legend, a ghost story for children.”

Max looked over at the door, as if you might be standing there.

“You mean, like vampires?” Craven offered with a lift of his eyebrow.

Max squinted, remembering how uneasy you had been earlier. “She doesn’t seem very strong to me.”

Craven brought a beer to a human at the end of the bar, and then continued when he came back. “We don’t think she understands her strength. I personally believe it has something to do with lightning. There was a lightning storm the night she died, and there was also lightning the day of the bus crash.”

“What would lightning have to do with it?” Max asked. Her curiosity was piqued, but she didn’t want to seem too eager. “That makes it sound so dramatic.”

“I have no clue,” Craven shrugged. “Maybe the electricity in the air makes her powers stronger, maybe she becomes some kind of lightning rod? I’m not sure, but I would like to find out.”

“She does smell different,” Max mused.

“There are people looking for her. Bad people,” Craven added.

“What kind of bad people?” Jareth smirked. “Certainly not worse than this lot.”

Craven wiped the bar with his rag. “People who think they know what she is, and want to study her. To harness a way to give humans insane strength without turning them into vampires? She’s not in Hawkins because it’s such a great town,” he snorted. “I think she’s trying to hide in plain sight. No one would think to look for her in a place like that.”

Max flicked her attention from Jareth to Craven. “Do you think Eddie knows? About her?”

Craven licked one of his fangs. “He has been known to do freelance bounty hunter work. I wouldn’t put it passed him. Maybe someone is paying him to be her watchdog until they can know for sure.”

“Interesting,” Max smoothed her lips. “I wonder if there’s some kind of reward out for her?”

“I can find out,” Craven wiggled his eyebrows mischievously.

“You two fiends will stay away from her,” Jareth spoke up, eyeballing both of them. “Until I figure out exactly what it is we’re dealing with.”

“Oh shit,” Max flashed an uncertain grin. “You’ve got a thing for little miss monster mash.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jareth frowned.

--------

On the way out of Sacrament in the GTO, rounding the corner along the sparse forest that would head you back toward the bridge, you and Eddie were painfully quiet. There was the soft hum of At Night by The Cure coming from the orange and green lights of the stereo, and you absently noticed a few demobats swooping down close.

The images from the Baptism were still flashing every time you blinked, and so you rested your head on your fist and kept your eyes open until they dried out.

“Thank you,” Eddie cleared his throat. “For, being cool about all of that tonight.”

He really hadn’t given you a choice. “Um, you’re welcome.”

Internally, Eddie was kicking himself for ever taking you to Sacrament, or the Upside Down in general. He should’ve known Jareth and Max would notice there was something different about you and take an invested interest. Jareth was a much older, stronger vampire, but Eddie wouldn’t let him get close to you without putting up a fight.

“Did you take care of whatever business you came to do?” You wondered allowed, assuming that he made some clandestine exchange with Jareth.

Eddie sighed. “Yep. It’s all good.”

You were about to be nosey and ask exactly what it was he went there to do, when something banged into the grille of the car, making Eddie curse and swerve, slamming the breaks on before the GTO careened into the dead forest.

“Fucking bats,” Eddie hissed, throwing the car into park with a grunt.

The erratic swerve made your adrenaline surge and sent a wave of heat over your flesh. Dust pooled up around the windows and you struggled to see what was out there in the misty, purple gloom. Out in the middle of the street, in the glow of one of the GTO headlights, face down and wings wide, tendrils spread out, was one of those big, spooky demobats you’d seen perched on the eaves of the church.

You noticed it’s wing twitch, and one of the octopus tendrils curled up slowly as if it was trying to move but couldn’t. It didn’t matter what kind of horrifying, killer beast this was---you hated to see any animal suffer and, before you knew it, your hand was on the door handle, cranking it open.

“Wait!” Eddie gripped your arm. With the door open a crack, you snapped a look at him over your shoulder. Eddie checked up through the front window to see if there were any more demobats close by. “What are you doing? Those things are dangerous.”

“It’s hurt, Eddie,” there was an unmistakable determination in your eyes. “I just want to move it out of the street. Maybe its just stunned.”

Eddie’s stare got hard. “That thing out there will eat your face off and not think twice about it.”

Eyes locked on each other, the both of you realized at the same time that your lips were close, noses only mere inches from touching. Eddie’s eyes flicked to your lips, and then back up again, taking in a sharp sip of air.

Be it the bleeding heart you’d inherited from your mother who was always taking in stray pets to nurture and raise as her own, or from watching your father try to save and resurrect every bit of road kill he stumbled across in that last decade of his life, but you couldn’t let it lay out there vulnerable and in pain. Eddie recognized this determination in your countenance, and released your arm.

On a frustrated exhale, he reached across your legs to open the glove box. “Just wait for me, okay?”

He pulled out a butterfly knife, flipping it open with a few deft flicks of his wrist.

“What’s that for?”

He made a stabbing gesture. “If it’s mortally wounded, I’ll have to put it out of it’s misery.”

You stepped out of the vehicle, waiting for Eddie to come around the front of the car and meet you there.

The demobat lifted another tentacle, making a shrill, squealing noise, and then went still again.

“We can’t take it home with us,” Eddie warned. “That is out of the question.”

You had no idea what you were doing. It was face down, but you knew the thing had a mouth of teeth and they seemed incredibly strong and fast.

“Just help me...move it off the road so it doesn’t get squished by another car.”

Eddie did not like this. This thing wasn’t a kitten or a turtle; it was more of the crocodile/shark variety with no real motivations outside of killing.

You knelt down next to it, Eddie positioned above you with the knife, ready to execute if it reared up and tried to bite you. The thing made a little, sad mew noise, and it compelled you to make the nurturing choice to run your fingers along the spine of its wing to comfort it.

“Shhhh,” you coaxed. “You’re going to be okay. We’re not going to hurt you.”

The demobat jerked at your touch, but was still too stunned to do any more than that.

“Okay, you grab one wing and I’ll grab the other---” but just as you said it, one of the slimy, jellyfish tentacles wrapped softly around your wrist.

Eddie bolted forward, thinking maybe he’d need to cut the fucker off, but you stopped him with your other hand. The tentacle gave you a little squeeze before slipping loose again, falling to the pavement with a smack.

“Okay, let’s get this over with,” Eddie huffed. You both pinched a fleshy wing at both ends and were just about to lift up when the demobat screeched louder than ever, flapping free of your grasp and up into the air.

It spun around mid-flight and shrieked like a siren, exposing the jagged teeth in its gapping maw, dripping with tendrils of saliva. The demobat did not look happy.

Eddie dove in front of you, his eyes black and his fangs out, ready for battle, but the bat only screeched again, this time with less heat, and turned to hobble away; one wing not working as well as the other.

Your shoulders sank and your forehead fell to Eddie’s arm, sighing with relief.

“Yeah,” Eddie watched the thing go as it flew low to the ground for a while before scooting higher up in the sky. “Please don’t ever do that again,” he mumbled to you around the fullness of his ejected fangs. He didn’t move though, because now your cheek was resting on his arm and your hand was on his lower back, and he wanted to turn and kiss you so bad. But then you moved and the moment was over.

Back in the car, as Eddie stuffed in behind the wheel, you clicked your seat belt on and said, “I think I’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

“That makes two of us,” he returned, checking the sky for more low-flying creatures before he got back on the road.

Exiting the Upside Down through the old, covered bridge gave you a deep sense of relief. For the first time, you couldn’t wait to get back to your shitty trailer and your wholly ordinary life. Maybe you weren’t ordinary, but you really wanted to be, and the people and places of Hawkins were helping you to embrace that title more and more every second.

The two of you did not return to Hawkins alone.

Your secret companon flew low behind the GTO in the bridge, and then coasted high above in the sky once it was free from the Upside Down, reveling in the cool night air that did not burn her throat. The demobat you’d helped in the road kept pace with the roof of car as a shadow, following out of sight, and darting in through the trees when necessary.

She was your demobat now, and she wanted to keep you safe.

-----

[gyummigon]

☆ shameless | beomgyu

beomgyu x fem!reader

୨୧ genre:  smut, angust ୨୧ warning: sex, nudity, infidelity, masturbation, etc. minors pls don’t interact ୨୧ a/n: inglish is not my native language, so sorry in advance.

It was forbidden, you knew. There was only one step between temptation and prudence, and you had already begun to run in the wrong direction. Maybe you were blinded, maybe what condemned you to crawl and feed on the shame of the ground was nothing more than a double-edged sword that caressed you on a magical layer of relief; but once you crossed the line, what could you do but let your naked emotions take all they wanted?

It was after twelve, the warmth of the night enveloping you under your sheets and adding a touch of desperation to your thoughts, leaving you in a more vulnerable position than ever.  A dizzy sensation gripped you as you heard the bedroom door open, you didn't need to turn around to know who it was, you knew it wasn't your boyfriend's feet you heard moving towards your bed.

"Beomgyu," you whispered his name in the middle of the darkness, not sure if you were awake or somewhere in the back of your mind. 

You shivered as you felt his closeness, the moment he sat down next to you and his skin burned against yours, you felt far away in that place, lost in another reality, one where the desire that began to grow in that particular place in your body didn't hurt the way it did but soothed and released and you could express it so strongly that you removed any barrier between earth and heaven.

Your voice broke as you said her name again. You could hear his heavy breathing and the creaking of the mattress beneath his body. Your skin bristled as you felt his fingers on one of your arms, moving them in a delicate and almost superficial caress whose purpose seemed to be to find the warmest place to take refuge. Each of his movements flooded your deepest thoughts, making you lose your mind and plunging you into a kind of madness.

Yeonjun, who slept drunk on the couch in the living room, disappeared along with your reasoning. There was only one understandable word in your mind, the one you were willing to utter to the point of exhaustion if it would free you from the suffocating weight in your body. 

"Please..." 

Beomgyu groaned when he heard you and pressed his chest against your back until there was not an inch between you. You clutched the sheets tightly, as if that would keep you from falling off the huge cliff you were teetering on.

"What are you doing to me?" you could feel the agony in his voice, heartbreaking and pleading. His breath crashed harder against the back of your neck and his fingers moved over the skin of your stomach, asking for permission before slipping under the fabric of your underwear. 

You closed your eyes tightly as his fingers parted your folds and pressed your sensitive pleasure button. Like a dragon spewing fire, they pressed, twisted and moved down until they were lost inside you. Everything else disappeared and you were lost in their embrace. Excitement and passion were all around you, desire coursing through you, driving you to new heights as if nothing else could exist. You wanted to call his name again, to exhale his name as if begging for mercy, to scream at him to stop, and then to beg him to touch you to the point of exhaustion, until the darkness faded and all your vulnerabilities were exposed before his eyes.

With a speed that made even your most steadfast thoughts tremble, Beomgyu placed his other hand around your neck and used his thumb to draw circles on your skin. 

"That feels so good," he exhaled as he played with the wetness of your crotch and the trembling caused by the exploration of his fingers. They moved in and out of you at a heartbreakingly slow pace, as if he was searching for your darkest secret and didn't want to miss any details.

You bit your lower lip to stifle a moan and arched your back to feel the hardness of his body as he touched you. You felt the electricity in the air, you felt it as he held you, his breath on your neck and his hands on your body. You could feel it all, it was so real, so raw. You were filled with excitement and an almost insatiable hunger.

"Please, please, please..." You leaned your head into his chest until your eyes met his. Beomgyu shivered at the eye contact and responded by sinking his fingers deeper into you.

"You have me, sweetheart. Ask me for anything you want," he murmured next to your ear.

You were so lost, you had never felt so good. You wanted him, even though it was terribly wrong and leading you to your impending doom, even though the man who was touching you was not the one who should be touching you, and the name you found yourself moaning was not the one you should be saying.

And as a result of loving the wrong man, you let shame stain the sheets that warmed you.

© gyummigon | all rights reserved. copying or adaptation prohibited

[clowningaroundmars]

damnit i thought about Separated At Birth morales twins too hard and now i went and wrote this whole thing about it 😔

pls forgive me.

but also. uh. enjoy lol

- normie au (no powers)

- milo is aaron's adopted child, and he lives with aaron and his gf in their apartment. aaron didn't adopt milo with her tho, milo's actual adopted mom died when he was young unfortunately

- miles is still rio and jeff's son and neither boys know their bio parents. jeff and rio know a bit tho (they still have the adoption agency papers but havent looked thru them in a while). aaron lost the papers and info in a house fire

- jeff and aaron are not brothers in this au. i... havent decided whose last name is whose but yeah

- aaron does sketchy stuff to provide for milo, he does. milo doesn't get involved whatsoever tho, aaron's p overprotective in like a chill way and would never endanger his kid like that. milo doesn't even really know the details. he just knows his dad stays out late working often, and then when he comes home he brings enough moolah back to buy his son an expensive silver wristwatch :)

- the twins do not know that the other exists. like at all. they've always felt like there was smthn missing in their lives tho... like an incomplete puzzle waiting to be finished

- the parents... know? that their kid has a sibling somewhere out there? but the details were left vague when they finally picked up their child and they all kinda assumed the other was just like lost to the World Out There. aaron most def did not concern himself with trying to look for the other child, one was plenty enough for him lol

- the twins discover each other when miles wins the lottery to study at visions and milo is just enrolled str8 up (thank you aaron's money!) but they dont even find each other for the first time at their school. they actually see each other in the windows of passing trains that they're taking in nyc one random day. its a weird dream-like moment for both of them

- milo, once he gets home: hey aaron do i uh have a secret twin somewhere out there or what (half-joking) (but not really) (ahaha) (👁)

- THEN they find out they're both enrolled in visions academy. milo was already p well adjusted by the end of the 1st day but became curious abt this weird nerdy kid everyone seemed to avoid anyhow. when he found out it was the kid with his face at the train station, they both flip out in the hallways!

- (insert spiderman x2 pointing at each other meme here)

they circle each other a couple of times like dogs meeting in a park, sizing each other up with squinted eyes and knitted brows. miles' mouth was hanging open.

after a bit, they stopped and met eyes, green against brown.

"you... you have got to be kiddin' me," miles breathed. "you look exactly like me!"

milo's eyes are still roaming, pupils bouncing around and scrutinizing his mirror-self standing right in front of him.

after a beat, he spoke slowly, sounding like he was trying to choose his words carefully. "... yeah. yeah, that is weird. you're like me, huh."

miles sucked in a breath. "i-i mean yeah? i guess?"

the bell rang suddenly, cutting the hazy dream-like atmosphere in half like a knife. the boys startled.

"gimme your number," milo demanded quickly, stepping to prop himself up against a wall and move out of the way of the incoming crowd.

miles swallowed and dug around into his pocket hastily, fumbling his phone a bit as he pulled it out.

milo laughed, and it was-- so weird!-- to hear miles' own laugh coming out of another boy that sounded quite a bit like him to begin with. is this what the uncanny valley felt like?

"what?" miles balked self-consciously, swiping over to his contact info.

"you don't already have your own number memorized, dawg?" milo says this with all the confidence in the world, a simple crooked grin and tilt of his head just overflowing with self-assuredness. as if his own self worth really came from within.

miles bit the inside of his cheek and swallowed down the feeling of envy bubbling up into his lungs. "uhhh, no? i literally just got a phone plan like, yesterday." it was hard to keep the judgemental tone out of his voice when he already felt like he had to be on the defensive.

milo's eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

"oh," was all he said.

"oh?"

"lemme just give you mine," milo steps closer, eyes constantly roaming and watching the students currently walking around them, like river water being parted by a big stone in the middle of roaring rapids.

he shot off a series of numbers and miles dutifully plugged it into his contacts list. the second that miles tried to save it was when he realized: shit, he did not know this mystery boy's name!

"oh, h-hey, i didn't get your n--" but once he looked up, the kid had already disappeared into a passing wave of students rushing to get to their next classes before the bell rang again.

miles blinked, looking back down at his screen. the phone number that was punched in was the only solid proof that this mysterious interaction even happened at all.

my god. this wasn't a dream...

miles hastily tapped in "twin???" for the contact name and hit "save".

- ganke is the first to hear abt miles having a long-lost sibling, and he gets his ear talked off abt the possibility of that sibling being an identical TWIN!!!!

- milo does not dorm up at visions. miles suggests they move in together the next year but milo's slightly spoiled ass is not very excited abt sleeping in a room the size of his closet. plus, he hates bunk beds

- aaron's kinda loaded so milo's always got the hookup. he always has the flyest fits, latest shoes and coolest equipment. miles is highkey p jealous when he finds out. milo is... actually not very spoiled despite all of this tho! probs bc he's always training in mma, and aaron drills the importance of self-reliance into him often

- aaron and jeff do not like each other At All. for the kids' sakes, jeff doesnt mention that he's actually slapped cuffs on aaron for a small offense before, but yeah. they have beef. aaron is already anti-cop anyways-- probs sitting at a 9 out of 10 on the hater meter-- but after meeting jeff, he's bumped that up to a cool 15

- the twins meeting: YOU!! 😲😳🤯😄

the Dads meeting: YOU. 😠😠😠

- kid swaps are always just the twins going: YEAAAH!! SLEEPOVER!!! :D

meanwhile

jeff: aaron.

aaron: officer davis.

*forced smiles and tense eye contact as they visibly seethe while the twins chatter happily in the bg*

- milo and miles live almost opposite lives, and they're very different. but where they truly connect is with COMICS!! and other assorted nerdy stuff. they watch anime together and swap comics n manga regularly. eventually, miles gets invited along to go to comic con with milo and aaron

- milo usually keeps a cool and collected front around ppl (just like his dad!) but he is most def himself with miles. he devolves into goofy silly shenanigans when they link up

- miles meeting aaron: 🤩 wow milo your dad is so COOOOL!

milo meeting jeff: wow miles. 😬 your dad is a cop. hm.

- jeff and milo eventually learn to get along but milo feels weird abt jeff being not only a cop but also making captain soon since he's been raised on lupe fiasco, NWA and KRS one songs since infancy. milo's household is #ACAB or bust lol

- they both bring up random injuries they had in their lives and try testing the "twin connection" theory. milo randomly hurts himself to see if miles will bring it up (like purposefully giving himself a papercut or smthn). they both p much develop a spider-sense for when their twin gets in trouble too

milo suddenly perks up at the dinner table, homework sheets spread out before him in every direction. he's trying to solve a problem using an equation of motion when he gasps and sits straight up, nearly dropping his pencil.

aaron is still prepping dinner at the counter not 5 feet away. he glances at his son curiously.

"dad," milo says with all the seriousness of a supreme court judge, "miles might be in trouble."

"... huh?" aaron's brow is raised.

not a second later, aaron's cell phone is buzzing where it's propped up on the microwave, pausing the music that was playing on a nearby bluetooth speaker.

MILES flashed across the screen.

aaron wiped his hands on a kitchen rag, gave his son another sidelong glance, and hit "answer".

"u-ugh. aaron?"

this was strange. miles never called him, they usually just exchange quick and courteous texts whenever it was necessary, but never more than that. aaron joked it was a "youngblood" thing, kids these days could never just make a quick and easy phone call.

so he knew it had to be serious if miles was even bothering to not only put in a call, but put in a call to him.

"miles? wassup?" aaron replied, grimacing at the strained tone and small gasps coming in on the other end.

"u-uhm..." miles stalled.

"kid," aaron started, as serious as a heart attack, "is something wrong? you sound like you're hurt."

behind him, milo stands up quickly, homework completely forgotten about.

"... y-you have to promise not to tell my parents first, heh. they'd probably-- ngh-- a ha! they'd probably kill us both if you did."

geez. even when he sounds like he's hurt, miles still manages to get a quip out as casually as he can manage.

aaron is moving towards the coat rack now, and milo's already went ahead to his room to put his shoes on without another word.

aaron's answer is careful. "... we'll talk about that when we get to you. where ya at?"

miles sucks in a breath that hisses through his teeth and from the background aaron thinks he can hear dogs barking in the distance.

"okay, so don't freak out but i might be like... near an abandoned building. i-i think they used to be apartments..."

aaron mentally projects a map of the brooklyn-manhattan area that he knows in his head as he switches to speakerphone. but nothing really comes to mind as he racks his brain for any abandoned apartments that he knew of.

"just send me your location, kid. we'll be there in no time."

miles chuckles gratefully. "th-thanks, aaron..."

- milo and miles are actually p jealous of each other, even tho they'd never admit it out loud (altho miles is awful at hiding his envy lol)

milo is jealous of miles' parents, and how involved and loving they are. not that aaron isn't involved in milo's life, but it's just that his work often gets in the way of actually spending quality time with his son as often, so milo is left alone a lot. they also moved around a lot as well, so he didn't get the chance to become as popular and well-loved on his block like miles did. he doesn't have very many friends.

miles is jealous of milo's freedom and independence, and his seemingly dazzling life. he gets that milo can be p lonely and introverted at times, but he'd kill just to spend a day in his twin's expensive shoes! if only his well-meaning but annoying parents would just hop off his ass about things, maybe then he'd be able to just... spread his wings and fly

- rio and jeff suggest a DNA test to see if milo and miles really are brothers. they scoff at the idea at first ("i mean c'mon, we literally have the same face," milo points out.) but aaron agrees. better to be safe and 100% sure than to have even a hint of a doubt, plus it would be great to have physical proof that they were indeed twins after all.

so they took the test and waited nervously for the results. miles lamented the possibility of them not really actually being the long-lost-sibling they both had. milo would try to reassure him anyways; even if they weren't biologically related, they could just lie and say they were since they looked so similar anyways.

but they got their results in the mail and it was confirmed: they were 100% related!! miles cried. milo cheered with joy and they immediately facetimed each other.

when miles accepted milo's facetime call, his entire screen was suddenly taken up by milo's grinning face unnervingly close to the camera.

laughing and wiping his tears, miles propped his phone up on his desk. "man, you're being weird. back up!"

"oh, am i? am i being weird, bro? brother of mine? brother dearest? broski? boy who is genetically related to me?"

"ahaha! man, quit it. anyways, yeah i got my results too obviously. milo, when i tell you i ran so damn fast after going to the store-- i never ran back home that fast in my life."

"'cause i texted you, right?! your welcoooome!" milo practically hollered right into the phone.

"chill, chill, chill." miles rolled his eyes, still sniffling a bit but grinning just as wide.

sounds of items being pushed off of milo's own drafting table filled the background, and all miles could see for a second was the logo on his brother's hoodie before the camera was finally positioned correctly.

"... okay. okay, hopefully it doesn't fall. okay, cool. so!"

milo then bounces up from his chair and shoots off to go somewhere off-camera. miles can hear papers rummaging for a second before his excitable brother comes and throws himself back on his chair again.

"so, let's read this damn thing together 'cause this is just-- hold up." milo pauses, putting the letter down and squinting at his screen. "are you... were you crying?"

miles sits straight up, hastily swiping at his face. "uh! maybe? so what about it?"

milo laughs, throwing his head back. "aaron!!" he yells, at the top of his lungs.

miles cringes. "bro! what the hell!!" he shouts back.

"miles cried!! he's cryin' just like i said he would! you owe me 30 bucks!" then, milo turns back to his phone, smirking. "anyways!"

miles is shaking his head. "y'all are placing bets on me now? that is foul."

"ahhh well. y'know! nothing against you or anything, nothing personal!" milo has a cheesy, apologetic grin plastered on his face, and then he suddenly gets serious.

"but anyways, miles. c'mon, we gotta read it together, it makes it more real."

"what is this, a whole ritual you had planned or somethin'?"

"dude, humor me. this is a big deal!"

miles bobs his head and laughs. "yes. okay! fine, you start. you can read one paragraph and then i'll do the next,"

and together, they read off the results again, placing emphasis on the final result: a 99.995% likelihood of a full sibling relationship!

"99.995% yooooo!!" milo crowed, pumping a fist in the air.

"so yeah, that's all she wrote," miles sighed contentedly, folding up his piece of paper. "mamí already said she's buying a frame for this so i'm putting this somewhere safe."

then, they sat there together and smiled at each other.

"you know what this means, right?" milo asked suddenly.

"... no. what?"

"we always talked about, like..." milo sighed and leaned back in his chair, screwing his face up in thought. "like. that feeling? y'know, like something or someone was missing in our lives, right?"

miles chuckled. "uhyup, like that one time when i was on a field trip years ago and i randomly reached to hold someone's hand but he wasn't there? before we got all partnered up, obviously."

"and that other time when aaron recorded me when i was like a damn toddler talkin' about 'i need another toy for my friend' at the store once. he insisted it was an imaginary friend that i made up just to get more stuff. but looking back now, i didn't have no imaginary friend... no, i was looking out for you back when i didn't know you even existed..."

"yeah. that's... that is pretty weird."

"well yeah, but now it's not. 'cause we were right. turns out we were right the whole time! and we got scientific proof to prove it!" milo jumped up and ran a quick victory lap around his room, throwing punches into the air as if he were taunting his opponent in the ring.

"ooh, now i see what you mean. these results mean the two pieces are finally put back together, like officially. no more weird empty feelings anymore..."

miles leans back in his own chair, fingers clasped together on his stomach as he thought back to all those times where that strange, tugging feeling kept cropping up in small moments of his life. on field trips, on the playground, at school, on daytime trips with his parents.

and then he thought back to how that aching feeling just vanished after meeting milo. in all of the excitement of meeting a long-lost twin, he didn't even really notice how that longing simply just... went away. he couldn't even remember the last time he felt that specific feeling now.

"exactly, exactly!" milo whooped, before crashing back down into his chair again and jostling his drafting table. his phone fell in the process and he cursed loudly when it clattered onto the floor.

"milo, cool it!" miles cackles, but he feels the same swooping triumphant joy filling his chest nonetheless.

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Idea #94: Raven's Plan, but make it Dragon Age

Having finished DA:V just yesterday, I've been beset by terrible fic ideas for the entire Dragon Age universe - especially this one, which I've been partially sitting on since I learned the DA:V release date and half-wrote on my phone at work today.

Or: What if half of Thedas time traveled from just after Dragon Age: The Veilguard to the very start of Dragon Age: Inquisition?

(DA:V spoilers below the cut)

Just imagine it:

Everything follows canon through DA:V, with Solas agreeing to tie his life force to the Veil. Rook and her allies walk off into the sunset...

...and wake up eleven years in the past, in the year 9:41, the morning after the Breach was closed for the first time - as does approximately half of Thedas.

For those first few days chaos reigns: The people of Minrathous rise up against the Venaturi and the Magisterum in a violent, bloody convulsion that puts Maevaris Tilani back on the Archon's throne - and sees half of the worst slave owners and blood mages lynched in the streets. (Half of the rest are captured and face the courts; the rest flee into exile.) The Civil War in Orlais manages to somehow worsen, with Celene - who does remember - executing Grand Duchess Florianne for her future crimes. Gespard - who does not remember and thinks the Lost Future a hoax - believes it to be an escalation of the conflict, and retaliates in kind. Warden leadership convulses, as does what remains of the Templars. Overnight entirely new fractions appear across Thedas.

Into this Inquisitor Mahanon Lavellan - here a warrior who romanced Dorian in that Lost Future - wakes in Haven after three days unconscious.

Those who remember flock to Haven by the dozen, though already plans are being made to preemptively move everyone to Skyhold.

Solas has been placed under arrest, as much for his own protection as anything else - which he submitted to quietly and willingly, much to the surprise of everyone who wasn't at the Archon's palace for the final battle. To everyone's greater surprise, the Inquisitor chooses to allow Solas parole - as the Dread Wolf has finally realized that destroying the present won't rebuild the past, it will just give him more to feel guilty about. This world is worth saving - indeed, it's been saved despite himself twice. Besides, he's still their best expert on the Veil.

Those present devise a plan: first, stop Corypheus, then find a way to deal with the remaining Evanuris without tearing down the Veil or allowing them to escape into the world.

It's an ambitious plan, not the least because they can't be sure how much their enemies know of the Lost Future. To say nothing of the constantly shifting political situation as others use their own knowledge to change things.

Vivianne is somehow the first DA:I companion not already at Haven to arrive, despite coming third-furthest.

Dorian shows up a week before they're set to move to Skyhold, an adorably tiny 13-year-old Rook in tow. ("I tracked her down the moment the fires stopped burning in Minrathous and told her father I was taking her to be my heir-apprentice. I'm afraid the story got twisted somewhere in the telling and now half of Tevinter believes she's the result of a youthful dalliance I didn't learn existed until the Lost Future. Completely ridiculous, of course, but it seems to have made my father happy.")

Lucanis just shows up one day a few weeks later - no one's quite sure when - and simply takes over the care and feeding of the inner circle. He's half babysitter, half bodyguard, and completely terrifying in a way that no 19-year-old should be. (At one point he takes down trio of assassins without dropping the cup of coffee he was holding.)

Others arrive as well - Grand Enchanter Fiona, Ser Barris, and the parts of their factions amenable to compromise; Emmrich, Manfred, and seven cartloads of books covering all aspects of the Veil; Inquisition forces from the Lost Future; &c - and others pledge their support - Empress Celene, King Alistair, Archon Maevaris, the Prince of Starkhaven, the Wardens, and newly (re)formed Lords of Fortune, &c.

(Hawke is in and out, and somehow finds himself Viscount of Kirkwall before the end, the people of the city deciding that the only way to spare themselves the deprivations of the future is to vote in a leader who can be guaranteed to have their best interests at heart.)

Despite the chaos, there's hope - and many heartfelt reunions.

In fact, the greater part of this fic in my mind is character moments - Dorian becoming a second father to young Rook, and the Inquisitor a third; Harding confronting Solas about everything he did to the Titans, but somehow the most compassionate towards his actions; Hawke practically weeping over Varric the first time he sees him in this timeline; Rook becoming the annoyingly sarcastic angel on Solas' shoulder; &c.

But there is plot.

Corypheus does not remember the future, but has plenty of high-placed followers who managed to live through the end of DA:V. Not quite abandoning his dreams of godhood, he uses the knowledge that The Old Gods are trapped behind the Veil to put together a ritual that will allow them freedom - for which they will certainly reward him with divinity.

The Inquisition gets wind of his plans and manages to bring an army to bear, but are not in time to stop the whole ritual. Elgar'nan is released into Thedas.

His first act is to kill Corypheus, who has the audacity to demand apotheosis for his actions.

Without Ghilan'nain, Elgar'nan is unable to unleash the Blight. He is still a Blighted mage of tremendous power, but cannot do as they did at D'Meta's Crossing.

War rages across Thedas - but a conventional war, with Elgar'nan taking over what remains of Corypheus' forces (and picking up more from the power-hungry, be they Antaam or human princes). Inquisition forces meet them in battle - sometimes winning, sometimes losing, sometimes fighting to a draw. All the while both sides search for the remaining Blighted dragons.

The Inquisition is in a good position - no one needs to be convinced to aide them this time - but still burdened by thousands of refugees and the need for the Inquisitor himself to seal the Fade rifts across the continent.

Eventually it all comes to a head, with Solas - aided by the mages of the Inquisition, Mourn Watch, and Veil Jumpers - coming up with a ritual that will allow Ghilan'nain to pass through the Veil, drawing off her life-force as she does. Should she survive the crossing, she'll be weak enough to kill in the minutes after, tying her life-force to it forever after.

Astoundingly, it all goes exactly according to plan. Ghilan'nain is drawn through the Veil and slain, strengthening the Veil.

Elgar'nan arrives in full force while the Inquisition is celebrating their victory - and many of their best fighters are exhausted from the ritual. It's a brutal, desperate fight - but in the end it's still-tiny, now 14-year-old Rook that strikes the final blow, having slipped away from the other children when things started looking bad.

Bonuses include:

All the character moments. I imagine an incredibly sassy baby Rook acquiring parents, aunts, and uncles left and right from throughout the Inquisition. (Weirdly enough, she ends up being the one to draw Solas out of his my redemption-equals-death got undone, what do I do now? funk, and the two can often be found in each other's company. Like a grouchy Spock and sarcastic Bones.) She starts calling Dorian dad as a joke, comes to mean it, and the story repeats for pretty much everyone. And for everyone else? Well, there's nothing like time travel to make people appreciate eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die.

For every high, there is a low. There should be genuine moments where it looks like the Inquisition is going to fail.

An exploration of the weird dynamics time travel makes. To those that don't remember, relationships seem to change, develop, or break apart overnight. There's a spate of weddings - and divorces - in the days immediately after. A least one member of the Inner Circle is glad that their partner is alive again, but cries at night for the children that have now not been born. (Rook and Lucanis were desperately in love in the Lost Future and are still in love in the new timeline, but it's weird now that she's just hitting puberty, and navigating that should be an ongoing B-plot.) And that's not including having to play nice with with person who killed you, or having PTSD from being killed, or one-sided relationships with people who don't remember.

It never being made clear what caused the time travel, but assumed that it was a failsafe the Evanuris had been working on in their prison once their archdemons started dying in the Blights.

And... yeah. I'm sure there's more I could flesh out here, but I just had this very strong desire for Inquisitor + Dorian + Rook found family, and here we are. As always, feel free to adopt, just link back if you ever do anything with it.

More DA Ideas | More Terrible Fic Ideas

[feministsouthpark]

South Park Filler Guide - Season 8

Link for Seasons 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

PLS my analysis will have spoilers, if you’re a first time viewer, just scroll to the bottom and read the list and only read full text if you are familiar with the content of the show already! S8E1 Good Times with Weapons is FILLER

Yes! Everyone's favorite season premiere is a filler, baby! It was fun, we sang, we cried, in the end Butters never has a scar on his eye again. S8E2 Up the Down Steroid is LORE

We have a new tradition, which is that after last season's Krazy Kripples, we'll have a new Jimmy episode every year! And this is the first time we meet Nathan and the rest of the special education kids. S8E3 The Passion of the Jew is FILLER

I wanted to tell you this one was canon, because the season has constant mentions of Passion of the Christ so far, but in the end, it doesn't even matter. S8E4 AWESOM-O is FILLER

Sooo if every anime filler was as good as these ones, the filler guides most likely wouldn't exist (or they would, because humans), but again, what we have is a self-contained story. S8E5 You Got F'd in the A is FILLER

At one point I might have convinced myself that what I'm doing with this recap makes some kind of sense, but alas, it doesn't. This became an episodic show and we miss out on all the best episodes. Why am I lamenting at You Got F'd instead of Good Times with Weapons? Because I'm a loose cannon with no regard for the law. That may be true, but I get the job done, God damn it. S8E6 The Jeffersons is CANON

No other Mr. Jefferson episode came out while Michael was still alive. As a hologram he later references his name being Jefferson again, but this one only ads a little more context to that. This one also pretty much introduced the new cops of South Park. S8E7 Goobacks is FILLER

Yes, Darryl and the Took our jobs meme are here, but it will return in enough episodes to still be understood. S8E8 Douche and Turd is CANON

What a great election episode! We get town lore (Stephen with the ram's horn again) and an allegory that will return in a big way later. S8E9 Something Walmart This Way Comes is FILLER

I regularly forget this one exists and doesn't make a difference at all. Sorry, got too subjective. Objectively this is an episode with a simple message and without a larger scope for the show. S8E10 Pre-School is FILLER

Trent Boyett never returned. But if you think about it, he is one of the boys' greatest foes. I wish one of the specials was a follow-up of the 15 year old versions of the characters meeting Trent again. If everything else fails, THAT would bring me back and change my classifications! S8E11 Quest for Ratings is FILLER

One time the boys played cops. They even played musicians. Now they play newsreaders. Only Jimmy is in for the long-run and he will get episodes that focus on that individually. S8E12 Stupid Spoiled Whore Video Playset is CANON

Not just because it's a follow-up to Death Camp of Tolerance, that in itself wouldn't be enough. But Paris also has an extended role in a specific later episode I mentioned a lot, but never dropped. It's 200 by the way. And 201. Now I am a bit picky of which ones to include if we got no other clue for an episode. The show never got to 200 celebrities at that point. Also, some of them were in that episode first. So only the most prominent ones get their debuts counted as canon ones by default. S8E13 Cartman's Incredible Gift is CANON

A character dies. Harrison Yates gets more role here as a detective, slowly drifting away from Barbrady. S8E14 Woodland Critter Christmas is FILLER

It's just in Eric's mind. Some of you are already mad at me for this. Some of you will only get it later and be mad at me in the season 11 post.

SPOILER-FREE RUNDOWN

Again, CANON means you should watch it, FILLER means you can skip it, LORE is somewhere in-between, any episode with the LORE label will have an explanation that helps you decide if you should include it or not. S8E1 Good Times with Weapons is FILLER S8E2 Up the Down Steroid is LORE* S8E3 The Passion of the Jew is FILLER S8E4 AWESOM-O is FILLER S8E5 You Got F'd in the A is FILLER S8E6 The Jeffersons is CANON S8E7 Goobacks is FILLER S8E8 Douche and Turd is CANON S8E9 Something Walmart This Way Comes is FILLER S8E10 Pre-School is FILLER S8E11 Quest for Ratings is FILLER S8E12 Stupid Spoiled Whore Video Playset is CANON S8E13 Cartman's Incredible Gift is CANON S8E14 Woodland Critter Christmas is FILLER

*Casually introduces the special ED kids

CANON counter:

S1: 9 out of 13  S2: 3 out of 18  S3: 6 out of 18  S4: 10 out of 17  S5: 8 out of 14  S6: 11 out of 17 S7: 6 out of 15 S8: 4 out of 14

Overall: 57 out of 126

[lunarcat982]

Untitled book

ok so here's chapter 1 of a story I'm writing I've already written the first 3 chapters so will prob post them at some point. Also this is rly long so if u want me to post further chapters like split into different posts or something js say! and pls give ideas and feedback (it won't be perfect so I'll defo need like improvements lol) :))

Chapter 1 

Meet Felix 

Felix sighed as he walked down the crowded hallway of his school, his thoughts drowning in the chatter and enjoyment within his peers. you could vaguely hear his timid footsteps echo around the school. He had bags under his eyes with a tint of red. He’d been crying again. It was so hard sometimes… It hurt. He couldn’t bear it. It was the end of another day just like the others, painful, emotionless and hell.  Felix's phone buzzed in his blazer pocket, probably mum or dad asking him for something as they always do.  Oh… it was Isabell. They used to be friends a few weeks back, good friends, but she said she wanted to find some new ‘people’ and maybe find love, or some generic shit like that anyway. He couldn't remember what she said exactly, but it didn’t help with his mental state, she was one of the few people who kept him at least a little happy in this fucked up world. Haha probably the only person, and then when she went away, he couldn’t help feeling empty and alone, not even his parents talked to him anymore. 

Apparently, she wanted to meet him somewhere today at 4:00, she wanted to talk about how things are going and maybe hang out a bit more. Felix managed a meek smile, maybe he did have someone to relate to, maybe his existence wasn’t so meaningless. He was getting his hopes up, that was the mistake. 

Felix walked up the steep hill that led to the long winding road that accommodated his house. His feet gently smothered browning leaves that had recently fallen from their respective branches. He had already started conjuring up what to say, what to ask. The only problem was getting out of his house after he was in it, of course mum would start bombarding him with questions about girlfriends if he brought up the fact he was going out with a girl. He would have to lie, not that it meant anything, it was almost instinctive now. He just couldn't get why they didn't understand he wasn't interested in any girls! It angered him more than it should have. 

He had arrived, he stood tiresomely in front of the bleak grey door he knew only too well; something about impressing the neighbours, his mum had said. Lazily he pulled on the handle and slowly opened and closed the door. Nothing, he was safe. Carefully Felix ascended the stairs and changed into something more suitable than his confining uniform; and yet even after this he still felt constricted by his parents' choice of clothes, he yearned for something more…  expressive. It-it didn't matter now, he had to go, he was going to be late. He was downstairs now, and was about to leave, but. 

“And just where do you think you’re goin?” her voice was slurred and slow, she had been drinking again. Felix sighed, “I-I’m going to see a friend”

“Which friend!” His mother snapped at him drawing another gulp of wine from one of her already half empty glasses. 

“It’s a boy mum! Okay?” Felix said, actively avoiding looking at the mess, which was his birth mother, he couldn’t stand to see anyone, not even her like this. 

“Eugh, fuckin’ hell Felix, you keep on seein’ all these boys, you’re gonna end up a fag,” 

Felix shut his eyes and tried ignoring the comment, even though the anger was begging to be let out. He never supported his mum’s or, well, the whole town's view on the LGBTQ+ community. But he couldn’t think about that right now, he needed to go, and with that his mum slunk back into the living room in which all the blinds were drawn down, and Felix swung the door open and slammed it shut behind him, ready to see an old friend.    

He was starting to smile more now, he felt heavy weights he’d been carrying for God knows how long lift off him. He felt a sense of escape rush over him; escape from his family? guilt? He wasn’t sure, but it made him feel better and that's all that mattered right now.  And then it hit him, they hadn’t even organised an area to meet up. That was stupid of him. He quickly pried the phone from his pocket and texted asking to meet at… maybe Grey Heart woods? Yeah, that was a good place, he had an idea of something to show her. Felix smiled at the thought of this, he hadn’t been given the chance to express his interests for a long while now and he was eager to do so.  His phone buzzed in his hand “yh ok” she replied.  

15 minutes later Felix was outside the field by Grey Heart woods, he used to hang out here, back when everything was simpler, and he didn’t feel alone all the time. This was where he first met Isabell, they were both 13, wow 2 years ago. Heh, time flies when you have nothing to do with your life. 

At this moment Felix realised Isabell was nowhere to be seen, he checked his phone: 16:01. She was late, eh it was ok people are often late- he had suggested the meeting spot rather late. It only bothered him when he was late, he couldn’t stand that- it made him very uncomfortable; he still wasn’t sure why. 

5 minutes passed and eventually he saw her come out of an opening to the right. She still had glasses although they were new, a ginger ponytail hung from the back of her head and she seemed more confident than the last team he saw her, taller too.  He put on a smile and tried cleaning the mop of black hair that draped over his forehead. In truth he was nervous, it had been so long, and he didn’t want to lose this like he lost it before. 

They walked towards each other, both smiling, “H-hi!” he said, raising a hand to wave, his attempts at hiding his nervous-ness were poor. “Hellooo!” she giggled. He smiled at this, she hadn’t changed, quirky and weird. 

“Heheh, so how have you been? It's been a long time, "he said, more confident now. “Well, let's see, parents still divorced check, no friends check, oh! And still single, definitely check," "and you?” she asked with a beaming smile. 

“Wow ok, let me think, I’ve been rotting away in my room, been crying in the school bathrooms and been completely and utterly alone,” he said, hinting at how much her sudden leaving hurt him. 

“Yeah, I’ll cheers to that!” She said, distracted, looking into the woods to the left of them both. “So, you wanna go in?” she asked signalling towards the woods 

“Um yeah sure,” “I actually have something to show you!” he said remembering what he was planning. “Oh, you do, do you?” she said once again with that cheeky smile. 

They’d been walking for around 5 minutes into the woods now and Isabell was getting restless, “when are we getting there?” she asked. 

“Hehe don’t worry we’re nearly there, I promise”,  

she wasn’t convinced, he could tell. And she was starting to move her body closer to his as they walked.  That was... new, eh it's probably nothing.  

Finally, the pair came to a stop in front of a large tree, around 5 metres up the trunk were 10 wooden planks nailed into various branches, although some appeared to be losing their grip and leaning off the edges.  “Um what's this?”  

“A treehouse!” He said. He was feeling more open with her now, he didn’t mind her judgement. 

“okayy , how are we gonna get up?” she said a little more interested now. 

“Ladder!” he said, smiling and gesturing towards an arrangement of horizontal wooden slabs scaling the trunk of the tree. 

Isabell frowned at the state of the wood but climbed it, nevertheless. Felix followed her up, close behind, smiling more and more. He missed this place.   

Eventually, the two of them had reached the top, Felix was surprised at how well the place had held up, only a few patches of moss growing here and there. “So, what were you gonna bring me up here for again?” She said, her voice smoother and fluid. It was probably just him. 

“Well,” he said, a little nervous, again, “I actually wanted to show you something I’m really interested in… paradoxes!”  he said, smiling once more. 

She frowned at this, “what?” she said coldly. 

“Y'know, a statement or question that contra-” 

“Are you kidding me?”  

“W-what?” 

“I’ve been acting like all nice for you, like we used to be” “And this is what I get…” “Felix, I LIKE you”  

“I” He didn't know what to do, he was panicking and confused. 

She sighed, “I guess I’ll have to do it myself” she whispered as to not let him hear. He did. “Felix, I’m sorry” she started cooing, that same smooth tone in her voice again, “come on we can just be together, I Know you like me” she started moving towards him on her hands and knees. He froze, he didn’t know what to do and was so confused. She was on him now. “W-” he managed to get the start of a word out before she pressed her lips against his own, closing her eyes she moved her hand to his cheek. He felt her tongue progressing towards his mouth, his back now pressed against the wood beneath him, as she leaned into him. He was scared, so scared, he didn’t like this. Without thinking he pushed against her, releasing himself from her clutch.  She got back onto her knees and looked at him with disgust. He hadn't realised, he was now crying, and his eyes were now red with worry. “Fuck you!” she said now angry, “Y-you freak!” she was hurt too, and he could tell in her voice she was on the brink of tears herself.  Without warning she descended the ladder two steps at a time, and ran away from him, all the while he sat there, tears rolling down his red cheeks.  Felix sat there for half an hour more, crying harder than he had in months, as that word repeated over and over in his head, “Freak”. 

[unhinged-comics-screaming]

I was gunna do the predictions bingo but honestly I am not feeling the juices rn. So maybe just a hopes list?

The obvious first one, Smith comes back as a human in some shape or form. Adjacently, this ends up as the ending of the OP shows up. I think Obari has been very direct in saying how much the OP is representative of the work and the scenes we don't have are the section where Bravern rolls out with the TSes and Smith demonstrating his pick up game. One of the news articles for a mech focused site has a thing about spotlighting TSes that show up in the later half and I don't know if they meant series as the whole or just the ep lol. Anyway, significant Smith helping lift Isami up scene pls.

I'm uh, not a Brave/Transformers focused person but I am in it for men kissing so I totally get people who want to keep Bravern but I like me a human Smith! Smith wanted to be in a bot and he's. In a bot. The same way we exist in our meatsuits. So I don't count it as a bad end either.

I think ideally we have both Bravern + Smith existing together... somehow. Actually it'd be so funny to have them both fight for Isami's attention. That being said some of the cute fanart where Smith can transform is probably my personal fave? Just throw in a magical girl show while we're here??

Oh at the very least

Isami figures out Bravern is Lewis Smith

I don't think there's any way we can get to the end without this happening so specificity. Isami finding Smith's dog tag in the cockpit is probably going to be the most obvious option. It's kinda brutal but I'm curious what the cockpit looks like "off" since it's like a projection orb or something.

It's related but imagine. A tokusatsu suit in there. I asked last week "what the fuck is 2m tall human man Isami Ao supposed to do against giant robot. What if he gets a hero suit + sword. Clearly Brave Printer can do anything so.

Actually I wanna know more about that but I feel like that's just something that doesn't need to be answered rn.

Another time loop??

It'd be kind of fun if Isami finds some sort of time loop trigger inside of his cockpit. Because I think it'd be kind of amusing tbh. That being said I don't really know where I'd want it to go. Lewis goes to when Bravern is introduced which I guess is because that's his time of need? And Lulu goes to when Bravern is "born". I don't really see it but people feel like Isami's shift from crying -> hero who makes everyone happy is too drastic so maybe somewhere in there but honestly I think its because there's only 12 episodes lol. Maybe because it's Isami the fusion moments are save points?

The thing about a last time loop without Deathdrives means we don't get Lulu and Superbia so that would make me pretty sad so maybe not that far back lol.

Deathdrive Lore

I think the key to that kind of thinking is finding out why the Deathdrives are here to begin with. Like, Bravern came into existence _after_ they were already invading so why are they all here with the motivation to get a death from Bravern specifically. How does that work. Did Cunus know something about it and tell everyone?

Actually that would be interesting like, Bravern's existence is what brings the Deathdrives to this... world? Timeline? Reality? in the first place so they end up stopping Bravern from existing at all. That would explain why its both Smith and Isami coming out of TSes in the last scene but not the uh giant holes in the city behind them. I think it'd be a cop out to like, find some way to defeat the giant mechas in the giant mecha anime without a giant mecha anyway. Covering my bases though.

Anyway, what is up with them. What is the gluttony one doin with all that magma (is he going to make a new island??). Why is Ira so mad.

Isami Lore

I need the equivalent of the "when I was a kid, I wanted to be a dude in a skintight suit" but for Isami. Maybe the opposite? I think the post got too eaten by the draft system for me to post but I think it'd be interesting to see Isami be a parallel to Smith in that he lost people close to him but he went for the inverse conclusion where there are no heroes. Actually that would be such a callout for the last episode to start the same way as the start and also the big reveal. Or is that too repetitive? I'd also like to see how he befriends Miyu and Hibiki.

I think after everything I'll put together a "episodes I wish we had in a full season" list because I think it'd be fun to see more of what this man is cooking. Will I dip my toes into doing it myself? Probably not! Despite the amount of words here I'm not a great writer.

I don't think I'm actually capable of writing a review, I'm capable of being critical but I'm also not that discerning if that makes sense. Plus I lack so much extra context in the greater universe of everything this show references it wouldn't be particularly useful.

[panlight]

anon pls! reading the tags on the poll, why does that quote make your eye twitch? (I don't like it either, just wondering your reasons).

Just the idea that Bella--who has been a vampire for like, what, a few hours at this point?--is calling it a fairytale and insisting that Edward, who has existed for nearly a century as a vampire, was wrong about it. The truth is probably somewhere in the middle between horror story and fairytale fantasy but of the two, Edward certainly has more experience and perspective here.

Not to mention that, in those few hours, Bella had at this point:

nearly killed two hikers (one mountain climber in the movie)

killed and drank the blood of several animals

tried to kill Jacob over a nickname

rather seriously injured Seth

The COTTAGE is very fairytale and I get that she's deliriously in love, but it's just . . . none of the rest of her experiences so far are in any way a fairytale. Unless she's going for like, darker fairytales but with the talk about how she expects a unicorn to come over and nibble on the rosebushes I don't think that's what Bella/SM was going for here.

It just makes all the angst and hand-wringing about how Bella's dooming herself to this sad half-life of the first three books feel like a total waste of time when you jump instantly to "it's a fairytale!" and "I'm so happy!" I wanted to see more adjustment, more growth, at least a little 'what have I become?' angst. Something. She can still have her fairytale ending (even though I still would have preferred bittersweet, that's just a matter of personal taste) just . . . not this fast.

Also SM already used a Snow White analogy when describing Esme in the first book; using Snow White again to describe the vibe of the cottage is lazy, but now I'm just getting nitpicky. :P

[kmhnsecretexchange]

Title: tunnel vision

Author: SploinklyDoinklyKoinkly

For: MrOrangoe (Twitter)

Pairings/Characters: Komahina / Hajime, Nagito, Kazuichi

Rating/Warnings: Teen

Prompt: Artwork/Fanfiction - the two share an extremely long hug. (for ff, it can lead up to that point maybe)

Author’s notes: pls enjoy!

The alarm began to blare with that same annoying noise it always did. Since Hajime’s face was still buried in the pillow he was blindly trying to silence it to no avail. Eventually he did manage to hit it. Maybe a little too hard actually. When he lifted his face from the pillow, he saw nothing but the smashed remnants of the alarm clock on the bedside table. Whoops. Oh well, he was sure the “Ultimate Clockmaker” was in his head somewhere, or he could always grab an alarm clock when he came home from work today. Besides, his body already had a biological clock in it. The only one who really needed it was Nagito… speaking of which…

He sleepily sat up, rubbing his eyes, “Nags, come on wake up.” When he did not hear a response he looked back, “Nagito? Ko? Komaeda?” But nothing remained but a bunch of pillows (Little thief), and the other half of the blanket that they were sharing. He must have gotten up while Hajime was trying to get the alarm clock to be silent, he always had quiet feet that way. He eventually got up, dreading going to work at Future Foundation.

Hajime did not want anyone to get the wrong idea or anything, he really liked working for Future Foundation. It was a pretty good gig, just filling out paperwork and occasionally going on missions. Of course it was mostly mandatory, almost like a court (when those still existed), ordered community service. Byakuya said something about making up for their past transgressions even though they did not remember and were clearly not in their right minds. Then again they did commit war crimes so maybe the bitch was onto something; he didn’t really like him most of the time because of all the unwanted comments he made. Not to mention how he constantly gave Hajime extra work to do. Sometimes the work was as simple as just making copies to the printer, but other times it was writing out long-ass reports to other members of Future Foundation. At first he thought it was because Byakuya thought he was just better suited, seeing how Hajime had almost every talent known in existence but he realized that he only did it to keep Hajime busy.

But he didn’t really want to dwell on that. If he thought about it for any longer he knew that he would have a blood vessel pop; he was mostly joking but Mikan always told him that the amount of stress was getting very dangerous. Like Sonia had told him, he just had to take it one step at a time. He could do that. So the first step would be getting ready for work right? Yeah he could do that. 

He first started off with his hair, staring at the strand of hair that never came down. He had tried cutting it several times but nothing ever worked. It just would keep growing back bigger and thicker. He brushed his hair with a comb so it would cover up that recognizable scar on his forehead. He still hated it. It was a reminder of how stupid he was. While he was at it he also put in another green contact; people always looked at him weird, like he was a murderer. He guessed he was. He finally put on his suit jacket and tie, he even hated that too because he was reminded of him.

 Now, to find Nagito and get breakfast. He usually doesn't, but after he was found eating a hot pocket at midnight by a very pissed off looking Nagito he decided it was probably best to start eating three meals a day. Sure enough when he entered the kitchen he found Nagito making breakfast. He was humming happily and by the smell of it he was making pancakes. Nagito tilted his head, almost like a house cat that heard something and looked behind him.

“Ah- Hinata-kun! I thought I was going to have to drag you out of bed myself!” Hajime walked closer, “Yeah yeah… I think those are almost done sweetheart.”

“Oh right!” Nagito quickly scrambled to get them on plates. 

Hajime watched as his boyfriend moved like a white blur around the kitchen, “Yeah we don’t want another incident happening again.” He playfully teased.

Nagito carried the plates over to the small dining table, “That was one time! Or maybe three. Anyways this cookbook Nevermind-san really helped! No more fires! Or oven explosions!”

Hajime sat down, “Yeah, I still don’t know how you managed that…”

Nagito scratched the back of his head nervously, “It was a pretty hard recipe…”

“It was cake mix.” Hajime said in a dead-pan face, “With instructions.”

“I know! I followed them exactly! Remember, Ultimate Luck?” “Mmm.. I guess that’s true, we did find a litter of kittens that day. Though your luck cycle has been getting better…”

“The cancer’s almost in complete remission, Tsumiki-san said after that happens I might actually grow my brown hair back…” “And we’ll get you back to a healthy weight again…”

“Such a shame… I do love the taste of ramen so much.” 

Hajime sighed, “Well we do have to eat whatever scraps you can get… hopefully in today’s meeting we will be able to negotiate actual trading and not just the Future Foundation giving us leftovers that they didn’t eat…” Nagito gasped, “That’s right! You have that meeting! Hold on.” Nagito quickly pulled out something from the cupboard, yanking out a sack lunch labeled “Hajime”, with a little heart next to it. 

“You made me lunch? You really didn’t have to.” Hajime said, puffing his blushed cheeks.

Nagito caressed his cheek with his metallic hand, “Not really else much to do, other than arson and murder of course!” 

“God, maybe after your cancer is in full remission we can work on that fucked up sense of humor of yours.” Hajime said, though mostly light-heartedly.  He still leaned in to Nagito, giving him a small peck on his lips. “God, remind me to get you some chapstick too…” “Hehe! I love you too!” Nagito brightly smiled, “Have a good day at work, I’d love to come with you but after the whole “Microwave and Flamethrower Incident”, I’m not allowed on the premises anymore!”

“The cafeteria smelled like pickles for weeks… See you later, yeah?”

~

The transportation to the Future Foundation meeting was via helicopter, as usual. He was the only one in there, the others must have gotten there before him. The only other person in the vehicle was the pilot that did not seem to give him any attention at all.

When he arrived outside the office he slowly walked inside, as he looked outside he saw constant construction. It looked like Japan was slowly building itself back together again. Yet he still felt no amount of it could ever undo what they did. Yet it was the right step and the only thing that they could do now. Wasn’t it what the Future Foundation stood for? Making a new future? He supposed only time would tell.

“Yo! Haj-man!” Hajime turned around seeing a familiar pink-haired mechanic, well you couldn’t really tell he was one right now, with him wearing a suit and everything. He ran up to Hajime, enveloping him in a “bro hug”.

“I totally thought you were gonna leave me hanging dude!” Kazuichi pouted, “You know how scary these guys can be! And they hate me!” Hajime replied with a deadpan expression, “Yeah being a terrorist will do that to you.”

Kazuichi growled, “This isn’t funny dude!”

Hajime shrugged as he walked towards the meeting room, “Who says I was kidding, hurry up yeah?”

Kazuichi quickly caught up with Hajime, “Hold on!”

Hajime held open the door for Kazuichi as both of them entered the meeting room. The mood was tense, with the Future Foundation member, Adachi Hino, already waiting there. He was sitting down at the table, tapping his foot impatiently. The man had red eyes that stared into Hajime’s own which Hajime was pretty indifferent with, but they absolutely terrified Kazuichi. His hair reached his shoulders and was parted into a braid.

“You’re late.” Adachi replied.

Kazuichi nervously laughed, “Really… haha, I couldn’t guess.”

Hajime crossed his arms, “Well we’re here now, why does it matter?”

“Very well.” Adachi began to walk around the room, “Across from our headquarters is going to be a new Hope’s Peak.” Because it worked so well the first time… Hajime thought to himself but instead just nodded.

“We hope that this will help society flourish.” Adachi smiled to himself as he looked outside the window, “But we’re having trouble creating the power needed, which is why I called Shark Boy over here.” “S-Sure… yeah I could do that. It will take a while though.”

Adachi gave him a death stare.

“Or a few weeks.. Haha! Yeah it’ll be done quickly!”

Adachi faced Hajime, “But with all our resources going towards the school, we’ll need someone to catch up on a lot of paperwork.”

Hajime raised an eyebrow, “How much paperwork are we talking about? I already have way too many projects with the island.”

Adachi began to list things off with his fingers, “Food shipments, construction management, therapy programs, things like that.” Hajime shook his head, “Yeah no. I’m already overworked as it is, I don’t need to be playing secretary, figure it out yourself.”

Adachi rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, “Hinata, you don’t have a choice in the matter. Remember the arrangement.” Hajime put his hands on his hips, “Oh yeah I remember… I’ve been your lapdog ever since we got out of that god damn simulation, which I may add was the Future Foundation’s fault in the first place.” Kazuichi sweated, “Hey Hajime, why don’t you-” Before he could finish though he was interrupted by Adachi, “May I remind you that you were the ones that committed such atrocities in the first place?”

Hajime fired back, “May I remind you that Hope’s Peak is the reason we all got fucked in the first place? If the Kamukura Project never existed we wouldn’t even be in this situation in the first place?” “At least it gave you some use.” Hajime growled as he stood up, “Excuse me?”

“You were nothing but a useless reserve course student, and with the Hope Cultivation Project you were finally able to do something. It's not the project’s fault that you were so easily manipulated.” Hajime slammed his hands on the table, “I wasn’t in control! That’s the whole reason why it was a terrible idea! I was a completely different person, Izuru Kamukura. I have no memories outside of what Nagito and Komaru have told me! And weird fucking journals Izuru kept! I can’t even remember-”

“That girl’s death. Something that could have been prevented.”

That was when Hajime snapped. He could handle being mocked, but no one. No one. Talked about Chiaki like that. However before he could beat the living hell out of him, Kazuichi grabbed him, “Okay, let’s take a step back okay? I’ll email you later.” As they walked out of the room, Adachi responded, “Very well. And Hajime? Remember your place.”

~

“What was that back there dude? You lost your cool!”

Hajime gritted his teeth together, “He brought up Chiaki, he treated her like she wasn’t even a person.” Kazuichi scratched the back of his neck, “Yeah I guess, but you can’t let what he says get to you.”

Hajime held his head in his hands, “Not to mention how he’s made my workload way worse.” Kazuichi nodded, “Yeah. Maybe you can email Makoto or something. It’s getting late now, I’m sure that Pom-Pom of yours is getting worried!”

Hajime tilted his head, “Nagito? Is that a nickname?” “Well Sonia says I’m not allowed to call him a possum, a rabid dog, or anything else like that.”

Hajime smiled, “Well I’m glad.” And with that both of them stepped on their separate helicopters. 

The ride back felt different from the first one, now instead of feeling bored, he felt absolute dread. Not just what Adachi said about Chiaki but how overwhelmed he felt. On top of island duties and maintenance, previous Future Foundation projects and now more work, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to finish all of it on time. Maybe if he skipped a few nights of sleep, drank more coffee and skipped out on some meals he could manage it. But that would probably worry Nagito more. And that was the last thing he would want to do. 

Hajime eventually stumbled back to their cottage, unlocking the door and immediately smelling savory ramen.

“You didn’t burn it this time. I’m impressed.” Nagito hurried from the kitchen to hug Hajime, “Oh I’m glad! I had Teruteru help so I can’t take all the credit… it’s pathetic, worthless scum like me can’t even cook… haha…” “Okay calm down, how was your day?” Hajime sat down as Nagito passed him a bowl of ramen.

Nagito seemed to glow up, “Wonderful Hinata-kun! I helped name Sonia and Tanaka-kun’s new baby goats!”

“They gave birth? I thought they weren’t due for a while?”

Nagito beamed, “I guess they just couldn’t wait!”

Nagito continued, “Afterwards I helped Mikan restock! But we ran out of bandages and painkillers!”

Hajime used his other hand to grip his hair, More things to worry about…

Nagito continued once more, “But then my pathetic body couldn’t handle it anymore so I passed out! But afterwards I started dinner for my lovely Hinata-kun~” “I’m not- that’s not…”

“Hm?”

“I’m not that good Nagito… quite the opposite.” “I don’t understand… Hinata-kun is truly wonderful and can do anything he can dream of!”

“I can’t. I couldn’t even. I can’t even get the island in shape!” Hajime nearly shouted.

“But Hinata-kun has plenty of time! You can start tomorrow.” “I can’t. I need to do Future Foundation’s tasks first, then I need to check your vitals, then I need to do maintenance around the island, then I need to repair the fences on the farm, then I need to restock the pharmacy, then-”

Nagito placed his hand on Hajime’s, “Is this what this is about? You don’t owe those leeches anything! And trust me I would know! I’m a bit of a leech myself!”

Hajime shook his head, “Nonno, I owe it to them. I owe it to… I owe it to Chiaki. If she were here, I'm pretty sure she would be disgusted. By what I’ve done. Not just to myself but to all of you.”

Nagito took a deep breath. “I mean. Wouldn’t that apply to me too? I blew up a gymnasium after all?”

Hajime shook his head, “That’s different. You were trying to do something for others, and no one was hurt. I signed a piece of paper just so I could be an Ultimate.”

“I also tried to kill all of you, and I called you worthless.” Hajime cringed, “I mean-”

Nagito shushed him, “I think Hinata-kun seems to think that because of his own actions he caused the apocalypse. Hinata-kun, someone else probably would have been chosen for the project if you didn’t, which would’ve led us all into despair anyways. As for Chiaki… even my luck couldn’t have possibly guessed that’s what would’ve happened to her. She loved you. She loved all of us, and I think if she was still here now. She would be happy that we’re atoning and trying to make the world a better place. But we are all responsible, correct? So stop shouldering all the blame on yourself.”

Hajime mumbled something incoherent.

“What was that dear?”

“... Can you hug me?”

Nagito beamed as he stood up, “Of course!” 

Hajime immediately hugged him, tears streaking down his face. 

“Haha.. Hinata-kun might crush me…”

Hajime said nothing as he just relaxed into the crook of Nagito’s neck for several minutes.

“But… if it's with Hinata-kun, there’s no other place I’d rather be…”

And the two of them stayed like that for a while. Nagito planned to send a threatening letter in the morning, but for now he embraced Hajime. After all the future was theirs to make, and they had plenty of time to make sure it was a good one.