#im such a piece of shit and her life would be so much easier without me

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 13/05

@garnetduodecim asked: I always assumed jack spent the first 4 hours in the troll session, before destroying prospit, destroying Aradiabots, there were A LOT of them.

Maybe one of the Aradiabots got in a lucky shot, and was able to tag him with a weaker, non-God Tier variant of her freeze ability. That'd certainly at least delay him.

@morganwick asked: So, you were talking about Aradia "injuring" Vriska (post/704357246751113217) and comparing Vriska to a fairy godmother character (post/722100305374986240)?

@manorinthewoods asked: Serendipity Gospels is by Tamsyn Muir??? Really? Um, that's… hoo. That was one of the fanfics that I didn't end up liking. Might need to revisit that. Side note: 'Doc Scratch's School for Supernaturally Gifted Adolescents' feels more like something Locked Tomb-esque to me. So that's really… ah. ~LOSS (3/5/24)

I do wonder how similar the Gospels are to TLT's writing style.

Actually, can anyone confirm at what point the fic will be safe to read? I could just wait until I'm reading panels from after its publication date, but if I can check it out before, I will.

@abysswarlock asked: Ooh I’ve had this hypothesis for a while now but you just said something that made me lock in my guess that your classpect is Prince of Doom

The classpect wheel continues to turn!

I'm married to Doom for at least one of my 'sonas, but my Class is still up in the air, since we know even less about them than aspects.

@manorinthewoods asked: As a sort of Part 2 to that sylladex comment - how do you think the Sylladex works? Do you think that Homestuck will go into more detail about Sylladices, or do you think they'll fade into the background as different aspects of the magic system come to the fore? ~LOSS (24/4/24)

I think the latter is a lot more likely. Most aspects (lol) of Homestuck's magic system are there to serve the story first and foremost. As much as I'd love the comic to turn into a treatise on Sburb deeplore, it really doesn't feel like something Hussie would be interested in doing.

The story won't really suffer without, say, a detailed explanation of every facet of alchemy - I just really like speculating, because I'm all about shit like that.

@heliotropopause asked: What are your thoughts on Homestuck's translation convention(s)? As an example, take page 2251, line "Arrivederci, Megido.": Is she writing in something close enough to Earth English to scan as such to the reader, no translation necessary? Is Vriska saying a word in Troll Italian, which gets translated to Earth Italian? Is she expressing a sentiment in her usual language that's best translated as the word "arrivederci" as it's used in English? Has Doc Scratch secretly been translating all cross-species communication we've seen so far?

Vriska's arrivederci seems diegetic to me. If we inherited English from Alternia, it makes sense that some of our other languages might come from there too.

tl;dr: Troll Italy is real 🇮🇹

Anonymous asked: im not one to dip my toes into The Vriscourse but this one piece of analysis i really liked is that vriska is jealous of tavros, that hes had a much easier life compared to her and that hes allowed to be more of a wimp while she has to be the toughest fuck alive or else shell die

It's only one piece of the Vriska-Tavros puzzle, but it's an important one. She'll refuse to acknowledge it to the end, though, because the idea of being jealous of Tavros is disgusting to her.

@obscureaeguran asked: Are there any current theories of yours that you want to be wrong about?

Confident as I am in my Vriska death theory, I don't actually want to be right.

I really like Vriska's character, and I want to see her grow past the worldview that's preventing her from finding peace. I just don't think that's likely, given her current trajectory.

Anonymous asked: 'In what universe are 13-year-olds the people most qualified to make universes?' well per the beta version of homestuck (when hussie wanted to make the whole thing in flash before deciding against it) they were all going to be 10 instead, i think this is the much better option!

How young can we go, anyway?

AU where the Homestuck Babies aren't sent to Earth at all, and just start playing immediately.

@manorinthewoods asked: Have you played Deltarune? ~LOSS (9/4/24)

I have! I was actually replaying it on day one of the liveblog - hence the several references I made to it at the time. That feels forever ago, now.

@bladekindeyewear asked: Jade changed pretty drastically as a person after her dreamself died, if you think about it— demanding Feferi stop using her quirk in chat, standing up to the trolls for the first time, getting angry, to such an extent that Karkat was so surprised that it turned his opinion of her around completely in a single conversation. Even forcing a password system to keep talks linear instead of using cloud visions to do everything out of order. This doesn’t just feel to me like dream Jade being a “different individual”, it also feels like a metaphorical confrontation between her NEW self and her OLD self…

I think it's both.

Jade's been through a lot in the last couple of hours, and she really isn't the same girl who died on Prospit.

Being an oracle of Skaia's visions led to disaster. They showed her that John's Dream Self would awaken, leading her to believe she was finally going to meet him, but neglected to mention that she'd die the moment he opened his eyes - or that Prospit would die alongside her.

As a result, the new Jade seems to have made a decision to completely reject all prophetic information. She'll supply the minimum possible intel to her past self, and no more.

It's clear her Dream Self's death was a catalyst for a pretty dramatic shift in her worldview. She's angry - at the trolls, at herself, and at the world that betrayed her trust. She's tired of being jerked around, and her tumultuous emotions are making her rather testy. Basically, she's sick of all the bullshit, and she won't take it from anyone anymore.

Jadesprite has experienced the same catalyst, and has also come to mistrust the clouds, but for different reasons.

Jade rejects prophecies, in part, because she doesn't want to be deceived - but Jadesprite rejects them out of sheer hopelessness. She just doesn't care anymore.

They both have the same trauma, but they're dealing with it in very different ways - and at this point, I really do consider them to be different people.

And then on a metaphorical level, Jadesprite represents the 'silly', absent-minded childhood self that got Jade into this mess.

I think this taunt from Karkat hit very, very close to home for her, and I'm sure she associates the traits he described with her idyllic days on Prospit. It's part of why Dream Jade is such a perfect target for her fury.

@spyril4132 asked: i beg to differ on the entry item similarities only applying to prospit. iirc, rose shatters a bottle, and dave hatches an egg; both involve breaking open some sort of "shell", and neither are associated with a larger object, which could be seen as similar types of items. (while jade does break a piñata, she does so by shooting it, not by splitting it apart)

It's true that Rose and Dave's object's have some physical similarities, but John and Jade are both summoning the same tree, which feels like a much stronger connection.

Rose and Dave's entry cards also summoned auxiliary items, but they were different - a cabinet and bird, respectively. From where I'm sitting, the link between the two Prospit items does seem unique.

@skelekingfeddy asked: what herptiles would sally and sahlee have as their consorts? i feel like a monitor lizard would fit for one of them…maybe losas has like, turtle or tortoise consorts, what with their long-livedness and the wise sagely vibe and all.

I was thinking pretty much the same thing for Sahlee. Let's say they're Galápagos tortoises, because the Sage gives me Oogway vibes.

For Sally's Consorts, I'm going to get really funky and say they're a type of pterosaur.

@sparten4ever92 asked: The HS version of Megalovania is slept on way too much, the Vriska guitar adds so much to it that the UT version just doesn't have. @sanctferum asked: Finally, MeGaLoVania by Toby Fox (feat. Joren "Tensei" deBruin on guitar)! Would you say that Tavros had an…unpleasant chronological progression? (btw I do love the bit of Spider's Claw that plays during the Vriska segment, which is (obviously) unique to this Megalovania) also, the audiovisual style of homestuck flashes is just really cool imo @mimescantscream asked: You have no idea how long we've waited for the Megalovania

This version of Megalovania was a great choice for Aradia's finest hour - or at least, her finest hour so far.

It's moments like this which are why I decided to stop listening to the albums in advance. If I hadn't first heard Aradia's Megalovania in this flash, it wouldn't have hit the way it did.

@elkian asked: MEGALOVANIA TIME BAYBEEEE! Also, let's go back to that theory you had about Aradia getting more alive, because you NAILED it. @iris-in-the-dark-world asked: i am so excited to see aradia again and finally as herself :33<

She's fucking BACK, baby!

Seeing Aradia smiling for real after all this time is genuinely heartwarming - and with her time-stop attack, she's almost unkillable. It'd take some absolute nonsense to take Aradia out of the picture again, and I think she'll be sticking around for a long time. Hopefully forever.

@grippingtraverse asked: notice any similarities during megalovania between aradia vs. jack & sans vs. player? 0u0

The best I can come up with is that Aradia and Frisk are both time travelers whose signature color is red.

Or maybe Jack is the Frisk analogue, since he's the one wiping out all life in the session, and Aradia is the last foe he faces.

@captorations asked: please consider, with this new information about aradia, what it could mean for her literary descendant dulcie septimus. please also keep considering this as you continue and see more of aradia. i am very normal about both of these characters

Ooh, they do have similar vibes, don't they? They're both doomed, they're strongly associated with death, and they both have a cheerful side that comes out when you don't expect it to.

@duorogue asked: "You have to give Nepeta some credit. The literal first thing she did after this traumatic murder was log into Trollian and report on Jack’s activities." To be fair to her, when I have a bad nightmare the first thing I do is log onto discord

nepeta hopping on mic at 2am to complain about the hat man (the hat man is doc scratch)

@absinthe-and-alabaster asked: when the writ keeper was introduced as fifth exile you mentioned that it was a little fucked up how the king was the only prospitian that was preserved - i just wanted to remind you that no, he wasn't ! on page 1974 we see all the other prospitians that were exiled with the white queen on her ship (including ms paint!) WQ just left them to go wander the desert

I'd actually forgotten about that. So much happened during the Act 4 ending that it completely slipped my mind. I even missed Ms. Paint!

Anonymous asked: Hey, as you noticed, the Dave Coin Split is a plot hole. We've never seen the timeline split because of someone's choice before. Compare to John flying to the seventh gate, there weren't two timelines based on his choice, the timeline only changed because Dave came back from the original timeline and changed it. And of course, like you said in the tags, Terezi shouldn't have been able to communicate with Doomed Dave, including to tell him the result of the FL1P. Have you noticed any other plot holes or things that don't seem to make sense?

While I see what you're saying, it might not necessarily be a plot hole! Certainly the Dave Coin Timeline was created in a different manner to Davesprite's - but that might just mean there are multiple ways to split a timeline, or that there are certain requirements that must be fulfilled for a decision to spawn one.

Because of things like that, it's hard to tell whether something's actually a plot hole, or if it'll eventually make sense in light of later reveals.

This is particularly true for aspects of the plot involving time travel, like the one you just described. Like, remember before I learned about Doomed Timelines, when I thought Davesprite broke Homestuck's predestination rules?

Anonymous asked: You said "God Tiering is just another way to inhabit your Dream Self," so do you think the things that Dream Selves can do (such as Jade growing extra arms) can be done by God Tiers?

I never really thought about that!

I think it's definitely possible. God Tier bodies can fly the same way that Dream Selves can, so other powers might transfer, too. Maybe the only reason Vriska, Aradia and John aren't shapeshifters is because Jade hasn't taught them to how to dream up extra limbs.

She might be one of the only Dream Selves who've learned how to shapeshift this fluidly. Logging thousands of hours on Prospit has its perks!

[dykeomania]

𝒎𝒊𝒂'𝒔 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒃𝒔: parenthood (3).

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: parenthood means stress, and endurance, and exhaustion, and learning curves, and ... sometimes, really, really, really good sex?

𝐚/𝐧: this is my Parenthood (Thought) Piece because i understand that i am mentally 30 but i llloooooooooooveeee a good domesticity concept i eat that shit up nnomnomnonmonmnom. i needed to talk about early parenthood with ellie and i needed to talk about some of the ... Alternate Consequences ... of early parenting .. if you will. this was fun. this was also composed between the hours of like, 2-4am. i think it's pretty literate, and kind of alright. you may have a fun time reading it. if you don't, sorry i'll venmo you a dollar. not ssssure if i really have anything else to say, honestly. proofread (at a very early hour, mind you) but i always make mistakes, i'll always edit over time.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: i understand these tags are like super weird and i always preface my fics like "fuck around and find out," but just to be clear, this fic does not sexualize children in any way. any way. just to really make that clear. mentions of you and ellie being engaged. joel's technically alive. mentions of children. parental uncertainty. stress. a little bit of sub bottom!ellie. we're dipping our toes in. also dom top!ellie. mentions of oral (both receiving), mentions of vaginal penetration (reader receiving). both ellie and the reader being milfs / ellie thinking its really hot how you are a good mom (there are still so many things in this category that i could've hit that im probably not even thinking of, so if y'all like this and wanna talk about them, Please talk to me) i write in past tense for literally all of it and this is just a me thing, but that's not really my style, so things may be .. off. or maybe it's just me. maybe i'm tripping. we'll see. it's like, 4am. so.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.1k, just about (i did too much).

.   .   .   .

you both lived on the farm. it was a quiet, proud little life that you lead. a picturesque actualization of all of the little thoughts and dreams that you and ellie have had about living together, about having a family. though, parenthood was new, and difficult. there were some nights that the baby wouldn't stop crying, and both of you would take turns feeling like shit -- one usually at a grander magnitude than the other --  because neither of you would know what to do. what, am i like, a bad mom? does he hate me? you spent time convincing each other that that is simply not the case, and that this was all part of the process. that you were both new, and learning, and that it's okay.

if you knew nothing else, whether that be due to not having experienced parenthood before or the delirium accompanying the heavy set bags and dark circled ruminating under both of your eyes, then you did know that there were a few things for certain: he will suck his thumb. his cries will turn to wails which will turn to sniffles, which will turn to sighs. he will get tired. he will roll over, and coo, and will go to sleep.... eventually.

granted, while this mentality in general made things easier throughout the early days of raising your newborn son, there was still no doubt that it was.. exhausting. in every way. parenting was a constant learning curve, and it took tolls on both of you in different ways. for ellie, she'd get quiet. snippy, even, and gain a little bit too much audacity at times. a snarky remark or demonstration of blatant impatience towards something minuscule, but still hurtful. her frustration would always point toward some deeper issue that she often struggled met with annoyance first, and words second. one of the first things that ellie learned while parenting was that she was really bad at communicating. she'd find herself throughout the first three, maybe even six months, constantly finding ways to say sorry.. even without saying really having said it. like, slipping into bed when after you'd finally went to sleep, and pressing kisses to your temple. or making sure the dishrack was completely empty, so you'd have one less thing to work about. albeit she struggled to verbally explain that while she understood you were too, she was just.. a little tired.

maybe it was the sleep deprivation, or her willingness to take up most of the tasks that required attention in areas other than just the inside of the home. which.. you did have to admit, were a little bit more intense than cleaning and washing dishes. no one asked her to do all of that. she took it upon herself to do extraneous tasks, like fix the fucking roof, during the peak of summer. and you'd always offer to help, truly. but it was always no, i've got it. you've got other stuff to do. you just go play with him, and i'll be in to take over in a little, okay?

you would, at times, have to sit her down and remind her to take it slow. that the roof isn't really bothering either of you, right now, and it won't until .. october, probably. that it's okay to swap out, if need be. she can do dishes, cook if she wants (burn down the house, if she wants), clean up while you go fix the wiring of the fence, tend to the horses, whatever the fuck she feels the need to do, on top of having to do already.

you would have to remind her, that she just can't do everything all at once. and that's okay. but that's also neither of your faults.

both you and parenthood alike would teach her to .. slow down, take it easy, and to talk.

ellie would have to teach you something similar, believe it or not. your back hurt. your tits wouldn't stop fucking leaking, and ever since you gave birth, you wouldn't stop getting these aching migraines that made your ears ring. you quite literally found yourself bending over backwards, trying to do everything all at once all of the time (sound familiar?), because you knew that it was as much of your job as it was ellie's. you can change the diapers, you can pump the breastmilk, you can clean the house, you can stop him from crying, you can read him books (that he couldn't understand, yet, technically), you could do everything. and theoretically, you could. and you would, until it made you frayed, and unhealthy.

that would be enough to make ellie to step in, put her hand on your shoulder, and advise you in a tone that was about as gentle as it was stern:

hey, let maria take him for a couple of days. you're tense -- i can feel you from across the house.

despite the anxiety and the frustration and the sleep deprivation and the exhaustion, you really would feel grateful to be experiencing this trying time together. there were some patterns characterizing it that were obviously stressful, and anxiety-inducing. but there were some consistencies throughout it that were be sweet, and tender. like, running each other warm baths. sitting – either in the bath, with the other, or on the toilet, or the side of the bath – and talking in low volume, not really out of fear of waking the baby, but just to kind of relish in the pocket of peace that existed between the two of you in that moment. the affection never died between the two of you. you were always snuggling close to each other when it came time for bed. always pressing tender kisses to each other's shoulders, holding each other's hands, circling your thumbs and indexes over each other's engagement rings.

… But!

you know... i'm a whore. so honestly, what really spurred this whole thought, is the fact that .. during parenthood your sex lives would practically be nonexistent. and it's not something that either of you really notice, until one of you explicitly brought it up. raising a child -- especially raising one in an environment that you both worked to keep safe, secured, and comfortable -- is a lot of work.

it wouldn't dawn upon either of you until you both were eating one night at the table - another tradition that you did not forfeit. you managed to dance around the subject due to something entirely tangential, and then it hit you, and you said – out of pure realization, ellie, we haven't had sex in .. like, months.

and just like that, the consequences of at least 98 days of involuntarily celibacy hit you both like a fucking truck.

for you, it came in the form of .. the simple reminder that your soon-to-be-wife is really... really fucking physically flawless. you'd notice this everytime she'd wear short-sleeves, or shirts no sleeves, which was really only.. every once in a while, as jackson got colder, or whenever you both woke up. sometimes you'd find yourself looking at ellie's back profile as she sat upright on the bed, adjacent and turned from you, stretching a big, grand stretch, and you'd feel a specific heat beginning to tickle the insides of your thighs. you found it harder to keep your gazes to yourself as ellie exited the shower, muscles apparent, and glistening. her whole body was littered with scars, and yet she was still so gorgeous. it was hard to believe that even for a second you failed to recall – or be conscious of – the fact that as much of a teddy-bear as she was, you were practically dating a fucking sculpture.

naturally, you would act on your desires first. and frankly, ellie would be so willing to lean into them. 

she'd be lying if she said sometimes she didn't wake feeling a bit restless, and like there was only one thing that soothe her. she craved it, sometimes – your hands, on her. all she needed were some quick rubs against her clit and kisses against her skin to motivate her to get out of bed and feed the animals. and she was so, so fortunate to have a fiancée good enough to her to give her just that.

she dared, shame on her, to forget how good you could make her feel. ellie never really let anyone touch her, before she met you. before she met you, she was honestly convinced a lot of the parts "down there" didn't work. she could hardly achieve making herself cum. it’d take so long. ellie hardly masturbated because she’d get impatient in any ordeal that wasn’t some needy, feral 3am occurrence that left her stirring, sweaty, and overwhelmed. it was a lot of buildup for what she saw as, in the end, very little payoff. and as far as other people making her cum went? well, no one had ever gotten that far. frankly, she didn’t think anyone would get that far.

that was until she met you.

it definitely wasn’t easy. there were a lot of tired wrists and upper biceps, and your jaw did get pretty sore. her pussy was gorgeously messy. but her clit liked to hide sometimes underneath the extra skin. when you found it, you learned that it was usually, extremely sensitive. but you told her that that was okay. you could make that work.

you spent a lot of time learning all of the technicalities. what was too much, what wasn’t enough. what to say to her; how fast to rub her.

it paid off, because about a month into dating, you showed her that it — and frankly, anything — was possible. just takes a little bit of time, and patience, kisses and whispers of affirmation how about how good she feels. how good she’s doing. takes some listening, intently, to what she needs. to what her body needs. 

can feel you twitching. you want my finger right here?

fuck, yeah. right there. just like that, baby -- please don't fuckin' stop.

and once you got good at it (and you got so fucking good at it), ellie couldn’t get enough. she jokes, regularly, that that’s one of the reasons why she’s going to marry you.

ellie's voice in the mornings would breathless and empty. all bostonian accent, rasp, and nothing else. they were vulnerable. whenever she'd let you between her thighs and you placed those kitten licks across her clit transitioning into these longer, learned drags, her moans would break, like glass. her hips would shuffle. sometimes, you’d have to hold her still.

no no, fucking running. it’s okay. just let me. can you let me? can you let me take care of you, baby?

fuck. yes. yes, yes, fuck. s— sorry just – oh, fuck.

it would mostly just be wake-me-ups. but ellie's back would always be arching by the middle of it. she'd find herself gasping, and sighing, and fucking -- against your tongue, against your finger -- and gripping onto whatever, all while mumbling to gods she didn't believe in.

that feels so, so so fucking – g–good.

so fucking good to me; feels so good, babe, thinki'mgonnacum–

ellie's orgasms hit her the same way every time. hard. ridiculously hard. leaving her breathing heavy, and screwing her eyes shut while she grasped at your hand, or your hair. her thighs would tense -- sometimes scramble -- and then collapse, after a while. she became this perfect amalgamation of tinted cheeks, chapped pink lips, messy brown hair, and sticky skin. 

she was such a fucking .. painting. she's so incredible.

the plan, as she wrote it, often was to immediately get out of bed after you made her cum. but oftentimes, she couldn't do anything for the first couple of minutes except lie there, body just a sack of bones and jello. her head would rest instead of pressing into yours, or would nuzzle its way deep into your neck. both occasions a precursor to her finally catching her breath. when she moves her head to kiss you, capturing your lips in something thankful, and sweet, it is almost always grounding for the both of you.

better?

so much better. holy shit, babe.

and that's not to say that ellie would never act on her desires. she was always just a little more calculated.

for ellie, her frustrations would creep up on her in the weirdest ways. it would be.. small things. things that were, actually, probably mutual. watching you wash the dishes, even when you’re not bent in a particularly promiscuous way. watching you cook, even when she wasn't really watching you, 'cause she was keeping the baby busy. but what really did her in was watching how you handled your son. something about seeing you have him on your hip, cooing at him or laughing with him, or playing with him, or smothering his cheek in big kisses that elicited these big, big giggles from him, drove her.. a very, questionable? kind of crazy? it was pure. it was so sweet, and most of the time, it was just that. but you were so, good with him. after so many months, despite all of the struggle, you really did blossom into a beautiful, capable mother, who still held the glow and all of the weight from the pregnancy and just–

ellie would realize how good it all looked on you. she would feel.. really proud.

and it made her feel like you ..  deserved something.

you both remember the first night she’d acted on her desires like it was yesterday. it was on the night that you two had hosted a dinner party for all of your mutual close friends and people who you called family. the dinner was a 3-week-long process of grocery picking, tablecloth finding, invitation designing, and recipe collecting. it honestly stressed you out more than it did ellie because, to be honest, she was kind of just there for moral support. it was your idea, after having had maria over for dinner once. and it was a great idea. but it left you drained – defeated from the final week of preparations, which was especially hectic. when you bathed that night, you bathed alone, a little overstimulated from the day. but you’d let ellie run the bath, though. only because she insisted on doing so. 

the soak cured some of the ache that settled deep into your joints, muscles, and bones.. but not all of it. after you'd set the tub to drain, brushed your teeth, and wrapped a towel around your body, you entered the room with an expected level of silence. you slathered moisturizer on your face, over your arms, over your stretch marks. when it came time to take off your jewlery, the rings – except the prized one – came off easily. but when it came to your necklace, your hands were simply too slippery. you sucked your teeth. you always did this. 

you eventually sighed, filling your lungs to call:

hey, bug. can you come help me take this necklace off, please?

ellie eventually would appear behind you, probably shuffling off of the bed or rounding some corner after changing and becoming into her own definition of comfortable. if she seriously complained, you didn’t hear it. you only felt her, how her hand placed itself on your shoulder just to let you know that she was behind you.

some things never change, move your hair over.

you do as asked, and hang your head. ellie's fingers brush against your skin with a kind of delicacy that makes shivers run down your spine. you lift your eyes, catching ellie's in the mirror before you. yours, heavier than hers.

you watched as she fought a smile, or a smirk. either was a given with her, honestly — in retrospect, it was most likely the latter. you couldn’t really tell, though. she’d dipped her head, eyes fixated on her fingers that fiddled with your necklace clasp.

you did a really nice job on the dinner, tonight.

suddenly, you were the one fighting the smile. you watched her, still.

yeah?

oh, you like.. completely knocked it out of the park. you did great. it was really, really really nice.

you didnt know if ellie was referring to the food, or the setup, or the wine choices – whichever. but something about the appraisal made your head buzz, like you were coming down off a two glasses of champagne (which.. maybe you were). ellie successfully removed your necklace, and yet didn’t back away. instead, she pressed herself closer to your back, and tilted her head so that she could speak just above the top of your ear,

you looked really nice, too.

been waiting for you to settle down, a bit. so i could tell you.

you probably hummed something in response, something that was probably suggestive but also thankful at the same time. it gets lost, though. because ellie bent down, and placed these slow, unassuming, appreciative kisses down your neck, and against the plateau of your shoulder. between those words and the way her hands lingered over your skin, the way she was breathing you in and drinking up the moment, and your scent, made you melt into her way too easily. like butter in a warm pan.

you exhale, like you've been meaning to for .. you don't even know how long.

el..

mhm?

you realize though, that the house is quiet. too quiet. there is a stillness to it that makes the pit of your stomach twist, and anxiety and guilt bubble in the base of it before you could even stop it.

...where's our baby?

you felt ellie grin against your shoulder. she masked it with a peck,

he’s at joel’s.

and then you felt her tongue drag across your skin. a long, open-mouthed kiss across the midpoint of your neck. she presses the padding of her tongue against tender flesh, sucks hard enough for blood to make the skin bloom, and almost -- against your own will -- makes your eyes roll shut.

the simple act -- acts rather, of ellie coordinating behind your back to have the baby taken off your hands (you knew it for a few days –  it's always a few days). she thought she was so slick. it was odd, how much relief those three words gave you,

but at the same time, you kind of wanted to be mad at her.

it was hard to, though. but you couldn't think straight, with how her hands were moving over you, over your towel. with her pelvis pressed against your ass, and her lips on your neck.

you tried,

he was fine here. everything was .. fine, ellie.

but she was so..

i never said everything wasn't fine.

i just think... you've had a really long, stressful week.

you hate how your body reacts to ellie's hands smoothing up your towel. your whole body broke out into goosebumps, seemingly trying to fit into the pores of ellie's palm, 

and i think i wanna make it better.

ellie's breath was hot on your ear, and you didn’t realize it, but your head was already tilted. your eyes had begun to flutter closed. you felt yourself, almost swaying against her. your mouth hung as her teeth grazed over sensitive flesh. her tongue pressed against familiar spots that had been untouched -- like the rest of you -- for so, so long. it was too activating.

in your best effort of defense, you spun yourself to turn around to face her. ellie’s head was tilted, her eyes were low. her breath spanned over your mouth while your palm laid flat against her chest. you stalled – shivering, shaking, suddenly caught in a rapture of toiling emotion that you hadn't felt that strongly in .. god knows how long.

her head dipped back into your neck. she pressed her cotton-clad hips against your towel-covered ones, and it just wasn’t enough. it was a lot, and yet, not enough.

your hand snaked over the nape of her neck as you breathed against your cheek, whole body feeling heavy and compliant. your knees were jelly. you could feel your clit. pulsing, and pleading. it ached as you feel ellie's hand slip over the backs of your thighs, inching under the cusps of your ass.

you needed something. you needed anything. you like to think that you had no idea what necessity meant before this moment, because you had never felt it so strongly. it knocked the wind out of you, only leading you to ask – to plead, without pleading,

e... ellie?

and she understood.

ellie’s head lifted from the crook of your neck she crashed her lips upon yours. the kiss was heavy, and deep. your knees buckled, and where you swore you may fall, she made sure you didn’t. you were shuddering, a hand suddenly possessive around the back her neck. her hands suddenly possessive and stabilizing with the grips she held on your ass. months worth of unknown tension relinquished itself in the pushes and pulls you demanded from each other's bodies while teeth clattered and bit into chapped flesh, turned glossy. moans and breaths circumvented between the two of you, and suddenly, the whole room felt like it was on fire.

she delivered a verbal command, teeth tugging at your lower lip as she half-way parted from it, 

jump.

you’d used whatever remainder of your energy to follow the simple instruction, your legs wrapping around ellie's waist like she was your lifeline. they remained around her as your back fell against the duvet, and as she kissed you so deep, your head ran dizzy and your body was left no choice but to arch into her.

you remember your hand smoothing over her abdomen, and reaching up to grab her chest. you remember sighing into her mouth over the fact that you could. you relished in the moan she released your mouth, and only returned it halfway. 

you remember gripping her and massaging her and bucking your bare hips up against her in hopes of making her make that noise again, louder. you remember how she bucked her hips into you in hopes of the same sentiment, her waistband grazing against your bair clit cauisng her to succeed far quicker than you. 

the night was filled with mind-blurring, fuck-until-the-sun-rises kind of sex. sex that you had no idea your body had needed until ellie had given it to you. your body reeled with every kiss that she'd placed over your skin – you’d watched as she peeled back your towel, and replaced bits and segments of the fabric with her lips in soft, attentive kisses.  it was hard to believe that they would transpire into messy, sloppy things. wet, tantilizing things that would trek down the axis of your body. that would hold your body hostage as her tongue and her lips worked on your clit to bring you closer and closer to your third orgasm of the hour. 

your body wasn’t used to it. any of it. it was, however, too used to and hyperaware of having a tiny human in the house that you simply couldn’t wake at this time of night.

you were shuffling, at one point, scrambling to put a hand on your mouth, or to bite your own knuckle.  when that didn’t work, you let your head fall over to a pillow while you fucked up against ellie’s tongue and bit the fabric, trying so hard not to moan. but you felt yourself cracking. 

you’ll never forget how ellie looked up at you. eyes a deep, pointed shade of green as she shook her head – mouth still attached to your clit – which in and of itself had almost made you cry. when she pulled away, it was the only time you let yourself make a noise. only because the whine that was ripped out of you was entirely unanticipated, just like her action.

her breath rippled over your the nerves as she ran her fingertip up, and down your hole. you whimpered, hips shifting up relfexivley, cunt tightening just from the invitation. nearly gushing from the feeling of her beginning to small rub circles against it, instead.

i’ve missed you so fucking much.

she dipped a finger inside of you with such ease, and no warning. a long, slender digit bottomed out inside your cunt, before she pushed in another, and made your jaw go slack. her eyes hung on yours – glossed over with lust and a bit narrow as a result of the devious smile that’d begun to overtake her expression.

she’d begun pumping her fingers.

he’s not here, baby.

it’s just us.

her fingers were so fucking long, you swore to god, you would never want a life without them in it. couldn’t bear another 3, 4, 5 months without having them in you. jesus fuck.

wanna hear you. 

wanna hear you be as loud as you fuckin’ want.

ellie emphasized her words by proceeding to fuck you faster. her tongue latched back onto your clit, rolling over and slurping at the nerves, rolling beads of saliva and your juices into and against the bundle. the sound of your cunt was so encompassing, it was hard to believe that it became the backdrop for the moans that ellie had ripped out of you. that made it into, and mostly out of, the pillow, amidst a sea of praise and bucking hips.

the next morning was luxuriuosly unproductive. ellie had only woke to feed the animals and returned to bed and slept with you until noon. she was always affectionate, come mornings. but especially riding off of the honeymoon buzz of the night prior, she made the morning after memorably tender, often pressing kisses to your forehead, and your shoulder, regardless of how awake both you or she was. she’d whisper sweet nothings into your ear, promises of how much she loved you. how she’s really glad this is how she gets to spend her life, as long as it’s with you. all of the sugary things that eventually caramelize into jokes and giggles and laughter, and that how you’d know it was time to get up.

it’s safe to say that parenthood brought you and ellie both very interesting things. it brought you challenges, and it brought you lows. it brought you highs, and photographs, and moments where you did feel like all of your hard-work was paying off, even when it didn’t seem that way. having a family meant having the opportunity to open your house up to people you who you loved. having a family meant having traditions, and things to fall back on – things that you would develop over time, as you learned more and discovered more of what you wanted. and having a family with ellie meant that you could fall back on each other, no matter how tough things got.

.. it also just meant sometimes having really.. really good sex. 

(whenever you remembered that that was something that the two of you could actually do, that is.)

[garciaasfluffypen]

bright beginnings pt 7.

pairing: single dad!joseph quinn x fem!reader  wc: 1.5k  warnings: none

part six • part eight

a/n: IM SORRY IM SORRY I DIDNT NOTICE THIS WENT INTO THE BOTTOM OF MY QUEUE BECAUSE MY DUMBASS DIDNT SCHEDULE THE POST anyway enjoy a joe pov as a lil treat

being holed up in an office all day was not something joseph anthony francis quinn had figured would be in his books. but he found himself taking over the daycare he had devoted his life to, making it his lifes mission to revamp it from the inside out and make it better.

from his short time as owner, there were a gazzilion things he would like to change, including some staffing issues that were bothering him. out of the ten girls that worked there, y/n, destiny and claire were the three girls who were full time, meaning that they got the bulk of the hours. that had to change. there were two girls who dropped, saying they didn't have time to work much due to university, which left eight girls left to work. meaning if he split all the bulk of the hours with the three full timers… that left the part time girls jack shit. he felt horrible only giving some of the girls only ten hours a week, but there was only so much he could do without making more of them full time. he had been stuck in the office for about three hours now trying different versions of the schedule to figure out what would make the girls happy. bringing the full timers down from 45 to 32 opened up a chunk of hours he could divvy out between the other girls based on their availability, which could make it a bit easier. four of the eight girls had tight schedules due to uni, meaning he could potentially get a few more girls who were requesting more hours the hours they wanted.

but that was a headache for another day.

shutting his laptop, joe decided to step out into the playroom, where y/n was in charge of today. it was his idea to start having the girls rotate through the rooms, so that way all the kids could get acclimated to each staff member in case there needed to be any sort of coverage. so far, it seemed to be working well, especially because the twins started to open up to a few of the other girls rather than just sticking to y/n’s side all day. granted, days in the playroom were the harder days, because all riley and thomas wanted to do was play with her. it’s what started joe talking to them every day before coming in to remind them that yes, you can play with y/n but you need to let the other boys and girls play with her too. it went well for approximately five minutes before he realized they were wholeheartedly attached to her, and by god if he didn’t do something about it the twins would hate him forever.

he had to admit, she was cute. if it wasn’t for him being caught up in a messy divorce, he totally would have already asked you out on a date. but he had to hold himself off, knowing that julia would one hundred percent use that against him because that’s the kind of person she was. he didn’t know why they had even gotten together in the first place, not counting the fact that she wanted to appease her mother. set-up relationships never ended up working well, he found, and most of them reminded him of HR relationships- the ones you could always tell were fake. the ones that made people think love was real, only to shatter them to pieces when it came out that surprise, your faves weren’t actually together.

love was most definitely not that. and not what he had with julia.

before he could go down that wormhole again, his phone buzzed.

[ grace!! - 3:30pm ] joeee what are you doing tonight???? i miss youuuuuu

grace was one of his best friends from school. he and wesley had taken her under their wing the second she stepped into LAMDA, and the three of them had become inseparable. she had moved to london from america to pursue acting, considering it was one of the best acting schools in the world. joe definitely missed being on stage, but he had made the promise to himself that he would make more of an effort to provide for his kids, since acting could wait until they were a bit older.

[ 3:31pm ] do you miss me, or miss the kids? lol [ grace!! - 3:32pm ] obviously you, you’re my bestie! [ grace!! - 3:32pm ] but seriously what are you doing, rehearsal was canceled tonight [ 3:33pm ] not much, probably watching frozen with the kids and trying to avoid watching steve and maggie. you wanna pop over for tea? xx [ grace!! - 3:33pm ] is that even a question??? i’ll be there at five :)

looking over at the clock, joe figured he could pop out to the floor for about an hour before taking the twins home. saturdays were pretty light if he were being honest, so it probably wouldn’t be that big of a deal if he left a few hours earlier. most of the kids were gone by six anyway, so him leaving an hour early shouldn’t be horrid.

and then he could talk about his crush on y/n.

grace was there through the whole julia ordeal, meaning she knew all the ups and downs and the ahem “marriage” that julia’s mother basically shoved down joe’s throat, placing the ring in his hand and telling him to “get a goddamn move on”. yes, the loves of his life came out of it, but he hated julia and her dramatics and the need to make the divorce so much more than it needed to be. it was driving him up the walls, including the stupid custody agreement they were working on. he was doing his best to keep a level head, but it was getting to the point where he wasn’t sure what he was going to do. but grace was the level headedness he needed, always helping him figure everything out with wording and when to meet with lawyers and everything. she was definitely a light in his life, and he loved her to bits.

but his real loving nature was saved for y/n.

not that she’d ever get with him. he could always pretend that she was indeed flirting back with him. because while he really liked her, he was her boss. there were so many issues with that. but he also owned the daycare. and they didn’t have an HR person because it was a mom and pop shop. hell, he literally runs the facebook page. he could do whatever he wanted, right? … right?

“daddy!”

joe held his arms out as riley and thomas ran up to him, almost tackling him to the ground with their combined force.

“my angels! how has your day been?”

riley looked up at joe with her adorable little doe eyes. “daddy come play?”

���i gotta go talk to some of the lovely ladies a bit, but then we’re gonna go see grace!”

“grace comin?”

“yes, grace is coming for tea.”

out of the corner of his eye, joe noticed y/n turn away and start picking up in the playroom, trying to busy herself and not pay attention to the conversation. of course he would go and mention grace in front of her, after flirting with her so openly. just his fucking luck.

“grace bring wes?” thomas’ face lit up in excitement at the idea of two of his favorite people coming over.

“wes is at work, bub. he’ll come tomorrow, okay?”

“otay.”

“let me go say hi to the girls before we pop out, okay? go play with the toys.”

as joe rose from his crouching position, he noticed that y/n was stuck in the storage closet. stupidly, he decided to go around to all the other classrooms before coming back to the playroom to check on her before they popped out. the other girls were doing okay, which was good to hear. everything seemed to be going good since the rotation started, and it was showing. he stepped back into the playroom to gather riley and thomas, noticing that destiny was in, y/n being nowhere in sight. upsetting as that was for him, he did promise the kids that he would get them home to see grace. and besides, he really needed to talk to someone about his crush on y/n.

the ride home wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be, and the twins were relatively quiet but bubbling with excitement as they got closer and closer to the flat. soon as they saw grace’s car in the driveway, they started giggling and screaming, and joe couldn’t help but chuckle. grace held out her arms as the kids ran into them, picking them both up with ease and swinging around in a circle. she smiled at joe as he grabbed the bags from the passenger seat and took them inside, setting stuff down in the front room and taking them all into the kitchen to get the tea ready.

“so, who is she?”

“what?”

“you only wear your nice shirt anywhere when there’s someone you want to impress.” grace raised an eyebrow. “so who are you trying to impress, joe?”

joe sighed. “we’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

“oh, i bet.”

[borderlineclown]

guess my mom had a bad day at work and is taking it out on me :)

[bisamwilson]

uno reverse star trek aos bc im curious

i love aos with my whole entire heart (to the point that i’ve unfollowed otherwise good trek blogs bc i got tired of seeing so many posts ragging on aos rip). aos got me into trek and i’ll be thankful for it for that forever

like first off the casting is fucking perfect. you can tell all of them love star trek so much. like pegg wrote beyond (which was the most “trek like” of the aos movies imo) and put so many cute little nudges towards the originals in there that i loved. quinto and nimoy were good friends and it was obvious quinto just wanted to do right by nimoy’s legacy. any time i see karl urban as bones i think about that story of how nimoy got teary eyed watching him bc of how much he acted like de. john cho is a badass sulu, anton was a major part of the heart and soul in those movies, and i love just how dedicated zoe saldana is to showing off uhura’s incredible competency.

i haven’t mentioned pine yet, for good reason, and that is because, despite how a lot of trekkies i know feel, i love aos kirk. i love just about everything about who he is as a character. i’d even venture to say i love him more than tos kirk (though i love tos kirk more than life too). pine pours so much life into him as a character. here’s a kirk that’s every bit of the genius he is in tos, but he’s at his youngest, most reckless, most cocky. he’s a twenty something who’s spent his entire life being left behind (by his hero father who follows him everywhere he goes, by his mother who is reminded of her lost love every time she sees him, by his piece of shit uncle, and perhaps most importantly, by sam. we’ll come back to sam later.) he decides it’s easier to throw up a facade, a cocky devil may care attitude supplemented by his pretty blue eyes and his frankly ridiculous aptitude scores, and spends his life pissing people off from the get go so he never has to feel the hurt when they leave.

which brings me back to sam kirk. (this bit gets negative @ jj specifically despite the ask prompt, fair warning.) as both a trekkie and a star wars fan, there are many things i will never forgive jj abrams for, but at the top of that list is deleting the scene where sam leaves jim behind. because that, in my i’ve-spent-way-too-much-time-thinking-about-jim-kirk opinion, is what defines jim, even more so than the dead dad who died on his birthday. that’s the final straw. his big brother, the one who was supposed to be with him no matter what, tells him he’s leaving bc jim’ll be fine. he’s a goody two shoes with perfect grades who always follows orders, but sam’s a kirk. so he can’t stay where his uncle is. up until this point, jim’s done what he’s supposed to do. he listens, he does his chores, he minds, he does well in school. he keeps quiet as much as he can. until his brother leaves and so he decides to steal a car and drive it off a cliff. he decides to become what sam says is a kirk, and fuck the consequences. being good and mindful got him a family who didn’t want him, so he’s gonna be a delinquent instead, bc then at least he doesn’t have to worry about getting left behind again.

and despite whatever womanizer image jj was going for, chris pine got /this/. you can see it written all over his face: the wonder at looking up at the enterprise in the iowa shipyard, the dedication to beat a test to prove people didn’t always have to die, the way he looks so shocked when spock prime treats him with such kindness, tells him how much of a great man he is and will be, that he was such a fantastic captain. even in stid (which isn’t my favorite by a long shot) you can see kirk struggling with his own self worth, see how much he feels like he was just living up to everyone else’s shoddy expectations when he lost his captaincy. see how much he feels like martyring himself is the only way even though he doesn’t want to die, bc if he doesn’t someone else would have to. and his crew means more to him than he does.

most importantly though, we get to see kirk work through it. he relies on bones, to the point that uhura is basically holding him up when it looks like he might die via missile explosion in stid and to the point he trusts bones to just be there on his birthday in beyond. he openly admits to spock in beyond that he wouldn’t know what to do without him (despite never letting himself need anyone at all since sam). he jokes around with uhura, saves sulu. trusts chekov to take care of things when scotty quits. assures scotty he’ll take the blame if things go wrong in beyond. he is close and in sync enough with his crew by beyond that his security on the bridge know exactly when to hand him a phaser when he rushes off. he’s dropped his cocksure attitude and grown into the captain he was always born to be, that spock prime told him he was. for the first time since he was like nine years old, he’s let people in.

and that, more than anything, is why i love aos so much. the cast is wonderful and the storylines are (mostly) entertaining to watch, but more than anything, aos jim’s journey is just so relatable to watch. it’s heartbreaking in its infancy and so incredibly satisfying by its end. tos kirk seemed louder than life to me always, which is maybe why i gravitate to aos jim more. he’s got so much in him that he has to find a way to let out. and he does

[kpopluvrsblog]

I got you princess

Requested: may i please request for a jealous bsf mark where he sees y/n getting wasted in the club (because she saw mark getting close with the popular girl) and she's with yeonjun so he drags her out and they fight but end up confessing to each other.. i hope that isn't confusing haha thanks !

Genre: angst + fluff, smut!

Pairing: mark x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT! Dom!mark x sub!fem!reader, unprotected sex ( uak the drill ), reader goes somewhat into subspace at the end, creampie , kind of rough sex, slight masturbation suggestive dancing, swearing, use of the word slut

A/n: this is so long,,, SORRY I ADDED SMUT i cant help myself when it comes to mark... if anyone doesn’t want to read that part it is at the end!!

You slam your locker shut, sighing loudly as “those two” pass by murmuring amongst themselves. By “those two” you mean mark and little miss popular. It’s not that you were popular but of course everyone loves miss perfect aka Jen and they can’t see through her facade. “Me and mark used to be like that..” you whispered to yourself.

“HEY Y/N” someome suddenly screamed in your ear. “YEONJUN!! oh my,,, you scared me!” You whined and smacked his arm lightly, making him chuckle to himself. “ Mmm sooo how’s your little crush on mark going? He seems to be all over jen today...” yeonjun asked with a face of concern.

“ oh a little?” Your eyebrows shot up with sarcasm. “Honestly, its... ever since they’ve gotten closer, she’s got him wrapped around her finger. Its as if me and mark had never been friends.” You look off to the side and scoffed at how whiny you sounded.

“No no no y/n... thats it!! I am not letting you sulk over this loser. He doesn’t understand anything.” He rolled his eyes before continuing “ we need to go out!!” He said happily. “ go where exactly?” You questioned as you grabbed his hand and started to walk to the exit of the school. “ go clubbing!!” Yeonjun said excitedly.

‘Clubbing huh... that doesn’t sound too bad!’ You thought in your head. “ alright clubbing it is!!”

That leads to where you are now. Looking at yourself in the mirror, wearing a burgundy fitting dress which made all of your curves stand out and matched it with burgundy heels as well. You have done light makeup with a black winged liner and added diamond jewelry pieces.

“DAMN y/n... baby you look GREAT!! wow you look so good i-“ yeonjun cut himself off when he reached up to his mouth and wiped off his drool, his actions making you laugh. “Stop!! Lets just go!” You said while laughing. You noticed his attire matches yours. He was wearing a burgundy suit as well which complimented him so well. “You look really good too though...” you smiled brightly at him as he grabbed your hand, thanking you with a blush on his face and brought you to his car.

The drive to the club was around 30 minutes. Yeonjun had found a club or as he called it “ the best club you’ll ever go to” and insisted that you both go there for the night. He said he wouldn’t drink so he could be your DD ( designated driver).

——————————————————————————

Your mouth dropped open when he pulled into the private parking lot for the club. “Yeonjun this is..” you trailed off in awe. “Amazing. I know.” He finished the sentence for you. “alright, in we go!!” He jumped excitedly.

As you walked to the large glass double doors. The bright lights and blaring music became clearer. You could see the many people that were occupied inside. Yeonjun said something to the security man standing outside, which u didn’t understand since you were too busy admiring the place, but before you knew it he was leading you inside.

“ALRIGHT, drinks first baby we gotta get you to loosen up before we get started.” He shouted over the music and the yells of the other people as he brought you to the bar. When he talked to the barista you started to scan the crowd of unfamiliar faces, smiling at the sight of everyone having fun. Suddenly you furrowed your eyebrows... ‘was that mark?? What was he doing here... wait, jen is... dancing on him.. woah, okay.’ Your thoughts ended as yeonjun poked your side and handed the shot glass to you “ thanks” you smiled at him and chugged the drink, feeling the hot liquid slide down your throat, leaving a slight burn.

“Agh” you winced at the flavor causing yeonjun to chuckle. “Its good huh?” He smirked. You turned back to the barista, “excuse me!! Can you give me the strongest shot you got?!” You questioned with a smirk. “Challenge accepted” the barista laughed and went to mix you up a drink. If mark can have fun why can’t you?? It’s time to get over him.. he’s obviously taken. “Is that mark here??! What the fuck man!!” Yeonjun shouted with a look of pure disgust when he saw who was attached to him.

“Y/n lets go! We’re going to go dance and show him what he’s missing!!” He looked back over to you just in time to see you take the mystery shot. “Damn that shits strong” you croaked and laughed when you saw yeonjun smiling at you.

He pulled your hand through the crowd of bodies and brought you to an open spot. Already feeling the alcohol take its place you started to dance with yeonjun wrapping your hands around his neck as he placed his hands on your hips. You smiled up at him and turned around in his grip, bending fowards slightly, now grinding your ass up against his bulge with his hands still groping your hips as he grinds into you.

You stood back up, still moving your hips and reached your arms over your shoulders to hold onto the back of his neck lightly. You looked up and met a gaze of who you completely forgot about. Jen was no where to be seen and mark was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, biting his lip harshly and glaring at the man groping you. Yeonjun leaned down slightly to press a light kiss to your neck and thats when mark broke.

One second you were dancing with jun and the next someone was leading you to a secluded place of this club. “WHAT the fuck are you doing mark!!! Let me go!!” You shouted as he pulled you into one of the empty backrooms. “Shut up.” Is all he said while he went to block you from leaving the room. “Shut up?!! What do you mean shut up!! Ive been shutting up since you decided to ignore me for the schools slut!!” You shouted at him trying to push him out of your way.

“HEY!! She is not a slut first of all-“ you cut him off with a slap to his face making him stare at you in shock. “Not a slut?? Mark where do you think she ran off to huh?! You think you were the only guy shes been talking too?! What a dumbass... im leaving now.” You declared waiting for him to move out of your way.

“Y/n... listen-” Mark started. “No!! I don’t want some pity apology to leave your mouth! I want to leave and never see you again.” You stated with your arms crossed until mark suddenly pulled you into his chest, arms wrapped tightly around you, as if he let go it would cause you to disappear. “ what the- Let me go!!” You mumbled into his suit.

You heard him sniffle and now realized that he was crying... a lot. Even though he is a dumbass you can’t help your feelings for him. “Listen y/n... im so so sorry that i pushed you away. I just- oh my gosh. I love you y/n... so very much that I unintentionally pushed you away and when i noticed how close you were to yeonjun, i thought that i could never treat you like how he does, i could never make you happy and i KNEW THAT. When jen started to pay attention to me, i thought i could take my mind off of you and that you would have a better life without me in it. I know how she is y/n... but my jealousy got the better of me. The reason why she left just now is because I wasn’t paying attention to her. How could i when you were standing so beautifully in front of me... and thats when i noticed that i couldn’t get over you, especially with yeonjun touching all over you when that could’ve been me if i tried and i- hmmph“

He was talking too much... his words making tears rolls down your face, soaking up into his suit. You leaned up to press your lips tightly against his. His body stiffened when your lips touched his... they were so soft. He quickly loosened up and hugged you tighter, his lips now moving with yours as you continued to make out. After a few minutes you pulled apart, a string connected between you both, chests heaving. You knew you looked like a mess but mark still looked down at you with so much love.

“First of all your still a dumbass...” you whispered, causing mark to giggle. “ I’ve never stopped loving you, me and yeonjun are just friends and he knows about my crush on you. But when you started ignoring me.. wow it hurt so bad and it pains me to admit that. I was so jealous that I couldn’t be with you-“ mark cut you off with another peck. “Mark let me finish!!” You blushed trying to pry him off of you.

“No i already know where this is going... im sorry for being a fucking idiot but i really do love you and i hope you can forgive me.” He said while letting a few more tears out.

“Okay no more crying!! Of course i forgive you and I obviously still love you too... you’re lucky you only ignored me for around a month though...” you trailed off into a fit of giggles. “Lets leave this place y/n, ill tell yeonjun whats going on and ill take you to my place to get you cleaned up okay??” Mark said while caressing your hair lovingly. “Mhm lets go!”

——————————————————————————

《smut starts》

After some time, you and mark had finally arrived at his house. “Ahhh okay here we are.” He sighed when he pulled into his driveway. “ okay lets get you cleaned up hmm?” He questioned when you both entered his house. Too tired to answer you hummed an answer back hoping he would understand, of course he did. Having already been here many times before, you remember where everything is which made it easier to navigate through his home. “Lets take off these shoes first, i bet your feet hurt so bad right now.” He pouted and sat you down on his couch, leaning down to take off each heel and lightly massaging your sore feet. “ it’s alright you can close your eyes baby ill take care of you.” Mark then leaned up to peck your lips one last time to hear you mumble “ thanks baby i lovveee you hmm” you then closed your eyes and felt him pick you up, bridal style and bring you into his bathroom. He took off your jewelry and placed them safely in the cabinet. He then proceeded to remove any excess of makeup that you had left on your face.

He was debating whether or not he should bathe you, as you probably feel gross. Since you had not fallen asleep yet, you decided that you wanted to be clean. “Baby you can bathe me its okay. I trust you.” You said softly, making mark smile at your cuteness. “Alright, im going to undress you now, lift your arms up for me.” You did as you were told, he took the snug dress off of your body, leaving you in your matching lace bra and panties... he couldnt help but get turned on. He thought your body was outstanding. Mark shook his head lightly trying to get out of his thoughts, you, now with your eyes open, noticed his actions and smirked. “Whatcha looking at?” You questioned innocently while looking down at your body.

“I uh- uhm oh yeah ill start the bath” he blushed and moved to the tub, now filling it up with hot water. The alcohol had mostly wore off now, since you hadn’t drank a lot. You started to unclip your bra and pull off your panties. “Mark can you help me in the tub please” you asked. You both knew you were capable of getting in yourself but nonetheless he grabbed your hips and set you softly into the tub.

“Dont you want to get clean too?” You asked and pulled lightly on the bottom of his tie. He smirked at your request and pecked your cheek. “Let me go get clothes for us to change into and ill be right back.” When he walked out you couldn’t help but notice his hard on. God he was so hot.

You knew you had some time. Whats the harm in just touching yourself a little? You fingers slowly trailed down to your clit and you slowly rubbed circles on the sensitive nub, letting your head fall back and small moans pour out from your mouth. “Having fun without me?” Mark asked with his clothes off and standing in the doorway, his hard dick on display. Where did this Confidence come from? He came up to the tub and lifted you out now patting you dry and emptying the tub.

“Do you really want this?” He looked you in the eyes as he asked this. “Yes i really want this please” you answered and bit your lip. “We’ll bathe after this then okay?” He didnt give you time to answer as he picked you up and brought you out of the bathroom straight into his room. He placed you gently on top of his bed sheets, luckily there was a thick blanket on top that he had layed out, so now the sheets won’t be dirty.

You pulled him on top of you and trapped him between your legs as you made out with him, lightly sucking and pulling on his lips, with your hand running through his soft disheveled hair. He groaned into your mouth as the tip of his dick brushed against your slick entrance. “Just put it in im wet enough and i really need you i cant wait please please please- OH” you moaned aloud as he followed your requests. His thick dick now stretching out your tiny pussy. 

“Fuck baby your so tight for me, damn you feel so good. Does it feel good for you baby?” He whimpered into the crook of your neck as he pushed your thighs apart farther, his hips now pressed tightly against yours. “It- um.. mmh” you already couldn’t form a sentence...

He chuckled and put his hand under your head, now holding you even closer. “Fuck.. m- mm move please” you whimpered. You were so sensitive and felt so full with him pressing against your cervix. He slowly pulled out and pushed back in, which made you gasp and clench even more, making it hard for him to move. “Loosen up for me hm? Let me fuck you properly. Show you how its done baby” you followed his orders and let him keep hitting that spongy spot deep inside of you. “A- ah keep going” you let out gasps and moans as he was now pounding into you. Mark was breathing heavily as he sucked marks onto your pretty delicate skin.

He snaked a hand down to rub on the nub you were playing with earlier. “Feel good?” He questioned and got a moan in response. He knew you were close by how you started to clench uncontrollably. “Im gonna cum shit im going to-“ you stopped your rant when he went even harder than before, you could feel him in your stomach. “I know baby. Cum. Cum all over me and make a mess. I got you.”

“FU-“ your orgasm was so hard that you went silent as your eyes rolled back, nails leaving streaks on his back. “Fuck y/n im cumming” he came inside of you with long hot ropes shooting into the deepest parts of your body, filling you up to the brim with warmth. You both came down together... only mark came down actually. “You’re okay princess. You did so good. Come back down to me, im waiting” mark whispered to you as he pulled out of you slowly, watching a white mess come gushing out of you. “Mmhm i did good?” You asked with a whimper while holding onto your stomach, feeling full. “Yes princess, so so good for me. Im going to bathe you and change you now okay? You can sleep, i know you’re tired.” After hearing his words you fell into a deep sleep knowing that he would take care of you.

——————————————————————————

You woke up with the feeling of being wrapped in warmth. You groaned as you turned around in marks hold, now facing his angelic sleeping face...’ he looks so at peace’ you thought. You also noticed that he dressed you in an oversized sweatshirt of his and gave you a pair of his boxers to wear. He really did clean and take care of you last night huh...his grip tightened around you and you left a soft kiss to his lips as you fell back into your slumber with a smile, knowing that you were definitely going to spend your life with this man.

[kenmasgameboy]

May I ask for 61 and 2 were Iwaizumi cheated on the reader, and Oikawa knew but never told the reader even tho they were best friends. And she leaves them behind. Cause fuck cheaters. Angsty angst please!

bruh the way this shit made me FEEL WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU UGH im SAD. also i ended up writing SO MUCH for this omg. I loved this prompt a lot more than i thought i did. I think i put into it what i wish i said to my ex who cheated on me with my best friend. fuck!! cheaters!!

TW: arguments, long distance relationship, cheating and betrayal, swear words.

2. “When did you stop loving me?”

61. “You don’t smile anymore.”

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

You had known these boys for ages. Looking at Oikawa and Iwaizumi made you feel like you were home. Iwaizumi, the man that would send you into the heavens and make you feel safe beyond any amount of doubt. You don’t remember a time when you weren’t in love with him. You don’t remember a time when you weren’t with your best friends.

But recently things are different. University made everything hard and it was like a wall had been driven between you and your happiness. The first year was the hardest, you would call Iwaizumi every night or every other night in the pain of being so far away from someone you loved so much. You’d keep things under control though, you never wanted to worry him. You thought you knew him, that if you exposed how you really felt he’d march down there in an instant. But then somewhere around a month or two into this, he stopped answering. He’d still text you in the mornings, so you didn’t give it much thought and instead turned your attention to your best friend, Oikawa.

Both of them were on the other side of the world from you. Oikawa was away in Argentina, and he still made time to talk to you. Iwaizumi was all the way in California, just doing university and not a university student and a professional volleyball team like Oikawa was. He was a completely different person than you used to know.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Oikawa looked over at you after about a 5-minute long pause of silence in your conversation. You were staring at your phone. You took in a deep sigh. Iwaizumi hadn’t texted in two days.

“Nothing, I’m sure it’s nothing.” You brushed it off, trying your hardest to hide those tears that threatened to sting you and fall down.

“You can tell me, right? Is it something at school? Have you made any friends?” Oikawa asked you. Reaching his hand out and laying his head against his bicep. 

“A few.” You shrugged.

“Y/N-chan, I don’t want to sound like Iwa, but I’m worried about you. You don’t smile anymore. Have you thought about going home for a few days?” He offered as a possible solution.

“I don’t want to go home if you guys aren’t there.” You grumbled, “But I was Hajime’s thanksgiving break is coming up next month, I was thinking about surprising him since I know he’ll have a week off with nothing to do.”

“I’m offended you aren’t coming to visit me!” Oikawa whined.

“I will when you finally give yourself a break!” You teased, “Plus, honestly he hasn’t texted me in days. I know it sounds stupid, we’ve been together for years, but I feel like I need to see him. Something just doesn’t feel right.”

“I think you should. But maybe you should tell him you’re coming before you go?” Oikawa suggested. Fiddling with his hair in between his index finger and thumb. 

“No way, that takes all the fun out! You said it yourself you hadn’t seen me smile recently. This will give me a reason to smile. Once I go there and we figure everything out, I’ll have my reasons again. Just please don’t tell him! I don’t want to get his hopes up and if I suddenly can’t afford it or something then he’d be disappointed.” You begged your friend, and he solemnly nodded before needing to leave.

You kept to your plan. You got on that long flight to California, landing alone and getting a uber to your boyfriend's apartment. You were so thankful you guys swapped sharing locations before leaving, it made this so much easier. You got to the door and fixed yourself nice and pretty before pulling out your phone and recording. You wanted to keep his face of surprise forever.

You knocked on the door, but the person who was surprised was you. A woman opened the door in a towel. Your face dropping.

“Is this Iwaizumi’s apartment?” You had one last shred of hope in you, you had one last string of hope in you. Please, anything but this.

“Oh my god! Wait you’re Y/N right? Hajime and Tooru always talk about you.” She smiled widely, offering her hand to you, “I’m Jess, I’m his girlfriend. He didn’t say you were coming by.”

“Babe, who is it?” You heard the love of your life's voice coming from the shower. You stopped recording on your phone.

You couldn’t control yourself, you pushed the woman in front of you to the side before she could answer for you. You ran into his bathroom, your tear-filled eyes meeting his through the shower curtain.

“Surprise.” You said your heart being smashed to pieces on the ground as you meet his face. His eyebrows raised, his body limp. He knew he was caught.

“Y/N.. What are you doing here? No, no wait.” You tried not listening to him, you walked away. Not wanting him to see your tears fall anymore, he didn’t deserve that side of you anymore. 

“Wait, who the fuck are you?” Jess asked you on your way out the door.

“She’s my fucking girlfriend.” Iwaizumi called from behind you. Following you into the street in nothing but his gym shorts.

“Stop, Hajime! I can’t even fucking look at you!” You couldn’t help but raise your voice. 

“Y/N, please I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You weren’t supposed to find out like this–” He grabbed you by the wrist but you just ripped it away from him.

“Don’t touch me! Are you fucking serious? What did you think I would say? I knew you were distant, I didn’t know if it was the timezone or what but now I understand.” It took all the strength in you to stand and face him. Your body running on the adrenaline of the betrayal and anger that coursed through you. “You fucking asshole. 4 years for it to end like this? I loved you so much. I wanted to marry you! You couldn’t have at least broken up with me like a man when you find a new girlfriend.” 

“She’s not my girlfriend– I don’t know why she told you that, babe I don’t want this to end–” Iwaizumi tried coming up with absolutely anything to say to you. The truth was he hadn’t thought about what to say at this moment. He’d replayed it in his head multiple times when he laid with other girls, at some point he convinced himself he could get away with it. That maybe he’d never have to tell you. Obviously, that dream came down in a crumbling wave of hurt and disappointment.

“Don’t you dare call me the same thing you called her. Like it even matters if you called her your girlfriend or not! It’s obviously been going on for some time. So tell me, Iwaizumi, when did you stop loving me? I need to hear it so I stop being so blind in the future.” You choked out the last bit of your words, tears fell into your mouth. You were sure you looked the ugliest you’d ever looked. It embarrassed you, but you needed to know. After this, you’d never see him again.

“I–I can’t answer that.” Iwaizumi was crying in front of you. Rubbing his eyes on the back of his wrists. “I still love you–”

“No you don’t. Iwaizumi, you feel guilty. That’s not love. I want to know how long, was she ever there when I was calling you because of how badly I missed your voice.” You refused his confession. His eyes widened, you couldn’t tell if it was the realization or the way it hurt to be rejected by you. Either way, his silence was enough to answer for you at that time.

“Did Tooru know?” You asked next to his lack of response.

“What?”

“You’re girlfriend said you and Tooru talk about me a lot. So both the closest people in my life lied to me, right? They lied to my face.” You asked him again, wanting to speed this up and get the hell out of there. He hung his head. You let out one last hiccup of pain.

“I asked him to, I told him I would tell you myself. Don’t be mad at him–” Iwaizumi begged you this time but it was too late.

“If he were a real friend of mine he should’ve told me, but he chose his side. When you stopped answering I was on the facetime with him every day. He had plenty of chances. You’re too late, Hajime. Tell Oikawa that I’m never speaking to either of you again. I’m blocking your numbers and I’m going back to Japan the next chance I can get.” You backed away, your head hanging. You didn’t know if you had any more hot tears to shed. They burned your cheeks. You hung your head down, trying to drop them onto the street instead of on your cheeks.

“Y/N... Please...” He begged weakly, his arm extending to touch your shoulder. He tried to bring you into his chest but you put your hands out to his chest. Your skin felt like it was going to fall off, he didn’t give you the comforting feeling of love and home and happiness anymore.

“No. This is the last time you’re ever seeing me.” You said it, looking into his eyes one final time. You could never do this, you felt like everything had been flushed down a clogged toilet. How would you ever move on from this?

“Where are you going?” He asked you, trailing at your heels.

“Away from you.” You spat, pulling out your phone. You were trying to look for an uber in the area.

“No, please let me take you somewhere safe, this isn’t a good neighborhood! And I know you got a C in English. Please, I’ll protect you, even if I need to follow from further away or something, I can call you someone and we can talk again tomorrow–” Iwaizumi was really trying, he pulled out his own phone and tried to look for something in his contacts list but you refused. 

“That’s coming from the person who hurt me the most. You have no place in my life anymore. Just leave me the hell alone.” You said this without looking behind you, “Goodbye, Hajime.” 

┗━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┛

jenna’s 5k celebration dialogue prompts!

[vermillioncrown]

okay im very curious about yunxun in sqq’s body with pidw knowledge

oh boy there’s a lot, i hope this is satisfying.

Pre-transmigration:

Is ZYX the type to hate-read? no, bc her ninja code is “bitch i have two working feet, i can just walk away”

except, pIDW is such... it’s an emergent phenomena. it’s chaos theory, exemplified. she can’t help but to read it as a way to practice her chinese in between her TAing hours and lab hours, and her actual chinese suffers all the mroe for it

(setting here is that zyx, as american trash, would only hate-read a cnovel if she was forced to enjoy only cmedia bc she chose to go to grad school in HK/china instead of currently like yours truly)

(i never hid the fact that zyx is a self-insert so)

baby cousin recommends this to her. she goes “wtf did i do to offend you”

But holy shit, this train wreck. and the shitty english that airplane occasionally writes out for his notes and blogs, she just... maybe some lonely nights, she’s drunk enough to rant in his comments under an appropriate pseud.

nokdao420′s (sounds like ‘suck dick’ in her canto dialect lmao) in-depth lambasting of airplane-bro’s lack of continuity, character development, ppp stallion fantasy trash gets meme’d like the navy seal copypasta

and bc she usually never puts herself out there, even anonymously, she immediately dumps the nokdao420 pseud and just tries to move on.

But she CAN’T, bc there was SO MUCH FUCKING POTENTIAL WITH THE SETTING, THE POLITICAL INTRIGUE, LBH, awto;io;hjaserghio;aweeeeee

Basic truck isekai, nbd, but she did die bc she was so mad she dropped her phone and picked it up without paying attention (all her shit is there, and she’s in a foreign country - that’s her whole life haha... literally)

Waking up:

She’s a nerd but not that nerdy; she’s never ‘one day im gonna transmigrate and i’m going to play my part!’

it’s ‘what serial killer got me, and how many minutes do i have left before he comes back to harvest my organs’

YQY and MQF are worried, but not as ‘is SQQ possessed?’ bc let’s face it, SY!SQQ tried his best but gave his worst. ZYX!SQQ is much more curt, snappy, and cold.

She Realizes. “Excuse this shidi for a moment.” goes outside, sticks head into pond, and screams

much better at playing transition from real SQQ to nicer SQQ, much more manipulative than SY

But in the end, besides the System being a piece of shit and making her do things, she’s not really a bad person. in fact, she likes being a good person.

(perhaps the tsuntsun nature of her SQQ performance is like a milkshake for all the boys in the yard. they swarm)

uhh...

oh. right, the penis. at least it’s easier to diddle and clear the pipes? “wait, if i pee in the woods, are there really fish that can swim up and bite -”

On LBH:

“Play cool play cool - NO I’M SUCH A MARSHMALLOW BITCH”

LBH breaks her fucking heart. She... she can’t

There are conspiracy theory-level charts in the bamboo house on the morality of how to treat LBH. to be good, and to need to push him anyways? (she interrogates the system relentlessly) (the system is pushed too far and she gets her first punishment protocol there)

(she learns that her mind isn’t safe. this system isn’t here to help; it’s here for its own entertainment.)

But... she figures, over the years, if he needs to go down, she can at least prepare him. and then she can run, or fake her own death.

actually, that sounds kinda fun (she says, trying not to cry every day)

LBH, receiving these scraps of care from his cold-hearted shizun, starts to believe that something he did is slowly warming him up! He’s finally doing something right!!

so ZYX!SQQ (ugh, i’m just Z!SQQ) is a stern teacher. not affectionate. short-tempered. intolerant of ignorance and stupidity.

but always willing to teach if you’re willing to learn. will respect your mistakes more if you admit to them and correct them. if you show guile and intelligence, but not turn your talents against your fellow disciples.

Praise is always given when merited.

LBH’s inner M comes out so quick, he’s basically dying all day every day

(ZYX!SQQ has no fucking idea, the concept of self and others’ perception of them as beyond a blank mannequin person is so alien, it doesn’t even pass their mind.)

LBH’s crush/fixation is further cemented (when LBH ends up lving with Z!SQQ bc there really wasn’t any room in the dorms due to logistics mishap) when he gets to spy on Z!SQQ when they think no one’s around (they think that LBH is sleeping bc who the fuck has that kind of energy? GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP YOU’RE TWELVE)

(”begging the pardon of shizun, this luo binghe is fourteen”) (’UGH no, you are BABY’)

but Z!SQQ doesn’t understand that while it’s ‘real’, this world operates like a novel. like, they know, but knowing is not understanding. Protag halo is the most blatant and obvious example, but protag ‘do too much’ energy is more subtle.

basically LBH has all the time int he world to do everything and spy on his master. at his master dropping his facade and grumbling. actual smiles or pouts. at his master humming and cooking little snacks at night, that somehow find their way into LBH’s lunches. at his... at his master, caressing his body and gentle sighs deep into the night.

And beyond that, Z!SQQ doesn’t let LBH do all the chores. they enjoy cooking, and despite LBH’s protag halo he’s still a child and doesn’t know every recipe in the world. she pretneds that she cant see him watching her cook and she purposefully talks to herself on her process and ingredients, while vein popping trying not to swear

LBH is just gone. 1000% gone.

On LQG:

“NO, THIS ASSHOLE’S MY TYPE!” Z!SQQ screams internally even as Qi Deviation LQG is about to nuke them from orbit

As they’re trying to stablize LQG, Z!SQQ has no control over their mouth and it’s the foulest string of curses in all languages at this shit ass world, shit ass system, shit ass luck, sei bei nei tai nei zek lan cut hai (watch me just fucking die here you stink ass dick cunt)

LQG tries to lob accusations, and Z!SQQ: stfu i just saved your pretty boy ass and you tried to kill me, your payment is your eternal silence.

the paradigm shift that LQG experiences isn’t as jarring as SY!SQQ, but it’s more a ‘did i misunderstand this guy?! was... I, me, wrong?!?’

Z!SQQ would never want to use someone as a meat shield. that’s not how they think. they were raised as the meat shield (poc older sisters, where y’all at)

So it’s a cat-mouse of LQG “LET ME REPAY MY DEBT” and Z!SQQ “FUCK OFF YOU’RE TOO HOT AND I MIGHT GET CURSED TO FUCK”

and LQG’s debt just keeps wracking up

but Z!SQQ can’t help but to make fun of LQG whenever they’re in public and LQG can’t (i mean, he can, but he ... huh.) make a scene. They can’t help it, it’s their crush reflex - either they screams a confession out so that they can get rejected and move on with their life, or they are mean af to their crush so that they can kill their own heart and die bc feelings are itchy

EVERYONE IS A FUCKING M IN THIS NOVEL, LQG CAN’T HELP IT TOO

Z!SQQ’s jokes at his expense aren’t nearly as mean as SJ!SQQ. and he can’t take his eyes off his wayward shixiong or that flighty asshole is going to run off and not let him do as his honor calls for.

(if he takes his eyes off his shixiong, he won’t see the satisfied little smirk that curls up on the corner of those lips; a delicate mouth and elegant eyes hiding a vocabulary more disgusting and crass than the grimiest street rat out there)

On YQY:

wary of YQY bc she has more emotional intelligence than a garden snail and can smell the unresolved guilt off that guy like stink waves. the face she makes at his presence is so SJ!SQQ that YQY never questions it

that guy’s an M himself, so he can’t help but keep trying

catches Z!SQQ throwing a tantrum and getting frustrated, bitter lashing out (he thinks it’s like SJ)

really, it’s them freaking out that they were supposed to teach shit they don’t know (body know, but not mind, and they values their mind over anything) and it just got overwhelming and they were midway destroying a guqin with their bare hands

YQY understands. the Qi deviation took away some memories, some vital, some trivial. Xiao-jiu’s skill in the arts, something that he prided for having clawed his way up to with the hands of a street rat, now lost.

YQ offers to teach them again, and suggests to have the hall masters take over for the classes as ‘SQQ needs to recover from their deviation’ and Z!SQQ snarls, hating that they have to depend on others and having their responsibility taken from them

(because if people think she’s useless, then they’ll never care again. she’ll mean nothing. if she loses a chance to prove herself, and it’s not like it’s false, she can feel the skill in the body, it just won’t connect in the head, she- she-)

so begins the cold war-esque private lessons from YQY that always end with Z!SQQ stomping away (what fucks do they give about composure if YQY didn’t? don’t you know how tiring it is to play a role 24/7? the dick’s gonna chafe if they tries to stress relief any more!!), or the destruction of another instrument, or ink upended on YQY when he’s being too grossly patronizing

YQY just feels hope that he can still bridge the gap between him and xiao-jiu. bc xiao-jiu needs him again

My FAVE, AIRPLANE-BRO:

Caught. Caught way before the Immortal Alliance Conference.

Caught whomst? Airplane caught Z!SQQ

Why? bc they actually respect service workers, thus they respect an ding.

being that they did study some logistic/supply chain-type problems before, the inner nosy bitch and addict to optimality can’t help but maybe nudge some improvements towards an ding’s way

SQH catches them being nice tot he an ding disciples “Who the fuck are you”

Z!SQQ reaches out and grabs him by the lapels and yoinks him into a cupboard: “You first, motherfucker”

“holy shit are you a transmigrator?”

“do you even have to ask?!”

“bro, chill - no need to bite my head off”

“i am a paper’s thickness proximity to mcfucking losing it. i am going to die. my limbs will be torn off. people will die. everyone keeps bothering me. I have a dick and it’s weird to run with. I’m not happy with this fucking tire fire novel that i’ve been yote into”

“a. ahahaa,... sounds like... you have some problems going on... a hahah”

Z!SQQ just does a ‘beep beep beep calculating body language’ on SQH

“Bitch. It’s you.”

“No... me? Who?”

“You are Airplane.”

“ah... i see you’re a fan-”

it takes a hoard of children to pin Z!SQQ from strangling SQH with his own belt

After Z!SQQ calms down a bit (a bit bc as author, SQH knows where to get coffee) (”Ok i will admit, i’m a hoeng ziu (a banana: yellow on the outside, white on inside, can listen and speak but can’t read), so correct me if i’m wrong... how coffee if ancient china????”) (”ah, you are wrong, isekai-bro; it’s fantasy and i do what i want”) (”fair”) they start to chat

And airplane-bro really isn’t that bad. he’s actually really fucking funny. and the kind of person that Z!SQQ would totally have been friends with.

Z!SQQ commiserates being college poor and doing anything to survive

“but it still sucks dick” “okay, also fair”

“btw what was your username?”

“I lurked.”

“oh c’mon, with a reaction like that, you had to have commented at least once. I read all my comments. which anti-fan?”

“you... are so nasty. you’re really a glutton for punishment, arent’ you?”

“who just got you coffee, you rotten banana?” (”btw can you teach me better english?”)

(”yeah sure only bc your blog posts made me want to commit homicide”) “... i. commented once. as. ‘nokdao420′”

“Holy shit. the legendary copypasta nokdao420. that’s you???”

“what.”

“your post was meme’d to hell. it was the hot meme for 30 chs in a row to copypasta it into the comments”

“what.”

“i mean, i guess you wouldn’t know, being a banana and all - but y’know, i did like what you had to say. under all the insults. you actually saw a lot of the ... the stuff i wanted to write. earlier.”

“the infuriating thing was because that trash pile had potential. and to anyone with real eyes and working social skills, it’s clear that you’ve never fucked in your entire life”

“aol;wehoh Well, have you?! nokdao420 pullin’ pussy?! Hah?”

“no. i don’t like pussy enough to put that much effort into finding it”

“... why did you read my novel, again?”

“filial duty”

They actually get along great, because memers have to stick together.

To Z!SQQ’s reluctance, they did memorize a lot of the novel (skipped nothing bc they read like they inhale, esp once the language barrier was lowered) and thus it’s the Banana-bro (”you will not call me by -” “what, Nokdao420? huh? whatcha gonna do about it?” “i’ll make sure your airplane never takes off. personally, permanently.”) and Airplane-bro adventures to save their skins

(airplane legit has an ugly cry when he finds out that Z!SQQ used to be a woman. “get up you pathetic freak” “banana-sis, you gotta let me mourn.” it’s the closest that he’s been near real pussy that isn’t grossed out by him, and it’s no longer extant. Z!SQQ delights in taunting him “oh yeah, i had double d’s. an ass with a shelf. bazongas, as they called them in the states.” “banana-sis please you’re kicking a poor man while they’re in the dirt”)

okay that’s enough, so much stuff and i didn’t mean to

[descendantofthesparrow]

Shuffle Playlist - Rewrite - Part of Your World - Harry Hook x Reader - Part 14 - Discoveries

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Evie hung one of the last dresses on the transportation rack, when a knock sounded on her door. She pushed the dresses apart for her to step on the other side and called out; “come in!” Doug entered moments later, a smile on his face.

“Hey! How was the camping trip?” Evie turned to him with furrowed brows.

“C-Camping?” Doug's smile diminished and he looked at her slightly confused.

“yeah?” He tilted his head at Evie “Carlos and Jay said you and the others went on a last-minute camping trip to relax?...is-is that not what you did?” Evie sighed, the questions running through her mind stopping as she realized what had happened.

“oh, um, yeah they lied to you” Doug looked a bit offended “you see, Ben was kidnapped on the isle” now he looked alarmed “let me finish, we saved him and saved Auradon” Doug let out a small sigh of relief and took Evie's hands.

“is everyone okay?” Evie looked off to the side for a moment “you hesitated what happened” She grimaced and shook her head a bit.

“um, well…you know how our parents are kinda pieces of shit?” Doug looked surprised at the swear but nodded “well… Harry's dad is…kinda really bad and…that didn’t turn out well on Harry's side…that’s all I’m saying” she gave a small smile and turned, grabbing some of Dizzy’s accessories that she had brought back with her and sliding some on her arm to carry easier.

“Is he okay now?” Doug asked quietly, stepping to her side and leaning into her field of vision.

“yes” Evie assured him “Mal healed him when we left the isle and he’s with (y/n) now, he should be just fine for cotillion tomorrow~” Doug nodded and gave Evie a small smile.

“that’s good, you had me really worried for a moment there, was anyone else hurt?” Evie thought for a moment then shook her head.

“Mal has a cut on her cheek but that was the worst of our end thankfully.” She gave another smile and looked back down at the accessories “you know…while I was there…I realized something” Doug put his hand on her shoulder “I was lucky enough to be given a chance, and now I need to give someone else a chance too” her mind flashed back to five months ago when Harry had asked Ben to bring Uma over, and maybe after cotillion she could ask about Dizzy?

“My uncle bashful used the say that” Doug switched the topic, sensing Evie was not in the mood to talk about what had happened on the isle with him. Evie smiled, happy with the sudden change and turned to him, her brow raised a bit.

“did he?” Doug nodded, then pursed his lips a bit.

“but, really-really quietly” Evie laughed, spinning around to face the transportation rack and gesturing to it.

“come on, we have dresses to deliver~!” Doug happily obliged to her non-verbal request and moved to the rack, pushing it as Evie pulled it out of the room.

-

Two hours later, after every dress had been delivered, Evie returned to her room and grabbed her last two outfits she had to deliver.

A red rose gown and a red and black suit.

She handed the outfits to Doug and dug into her bag again, finding the red ruby earrings with small crossbones skulls hanging from the top. “perfect” she muttered, carefully holding them in her hand and leading Doug to (y/n)s room.

She knocked on the door, humming as a couple of moments passed by and no response came. She knocked again and sighed when again no response came, she gently opened the door and cooed as she looked inside the room.

On (y/n)s bed was her and Harry, curled up together under her many blankets as soft yellow fairy lights hung above them, the title screen of a movie playing on her tv.

Evie snuck into the room, gesturing Doug to be quiet as she set (y/n)s new earrings on her desk and motioned for Doug to hang hers and Harry's outfits on her closet door.

Evie spotted (y/n)s notepad on her desk and wrote out a small thank you note, pinning it to her corkboard that hung just next to her desk.

She ushered Doug out and turned, smiling at the sleeping couple, and slowly closed the door behind her, shushing it as it shut with a loud click.

“There we go” Evie sighed, turning to Doug and wrapping her arm around his “I’m starving, how about you?”

“Food sounds good” he chuckled, guiding Evie to the cafeteria.

-

Carlos watched from afar as Mal swung her feet just of the gazebo floor, her toes just grazing the cool lake water. He froze as she turned to look at him, her emerald green eyes softening and she invited him closer, turning back to the water as he did so and sat down beside her.

Mal laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, while she and Carlos hadn’t been friends before Auradon, she was glad that she had him by her side now.

“so…you broke up with Ben?” Carlos started, giving Mal a soft smile as she looked up at him. She slowly looked back down at the water as she thought of what to say.

“I…yeah” she sighed, letting her weight fully lean onto Carlos, who lifted his arm and wrapped it around her shoulder. “I’m just…not ready for the relationship he wants…I know I hide my feelings and shit but…I really don’t know how he expected me to just, be good with all of this Auradon lady stuff within six months…I feel like a failure” Carlos let out a low hum, squeezing Mal's shoulder.

“well, you aren’t, you did your best, and your best was good enough, you just found out that that life…isn’t going to work out for you, it goes against your mental wiring, yes maybe you could adjust to it but would you be happy with it?” Mal pursed her lips, Carlos shook her a bit “well?”

“no” Mal muttered, picking at the loose thread on her pants “no I wouldn’t be happy like that…Ben…he said he wanted me…the real me, the isle me-wait…no he wouldn’t want her, she's rude as fuck” Mal smiled at the snort that erupted from Carlos, before it slipped off as she remembered something. Mal stopped Carlos as he was about to speak again “Hey…I did this for Evie but…I wanted to do the same for you” He looked at her confused “I’m sorry for the way I treated you when we were on the isle” he looked off to the side for a moment before he realized what she meant.

“oh! Yeah, it's no biggie” he attempted to brush it off but Mal adamantly shook her head.

“No! it's not “no biggie!” I treated you, Evie, and sometimes Jay, horribly! Even after we became friends! You were and are deserving of kindness, and I’m sorry that I was so fucked up that I was the rottenest little brat to you” Carlos stared at her with wide eyes. “what?”

His shocked look melted into a comforting grin “Thank you Mal” he wrapped his arms around her, pulling into a tight hug that only lasted a moment “sorry, just remembered; you’re not really affectionate” he laughed, grinning wider as Mal giggled along.

“it’s-its fine when it comes from you three” Mal hummed, turning to look back at the lake.

“sooo back to the Ben break up talk?” Carlos tried, smirking as Mal blew a raspberry “come on, you need to talk it out with someone, or else you’re gonna explode keeping it all bottled up.”

“…I’m happy I broke up with him” Mal spilled, not looking at Carlos as his brows shot up “I thought about our future and I realized if I kept doing what I was doing, and we kept going with how we were…neither of us would have been happy…I need to learn to love myself before I can love him properly, because…if (y/n)s forced quote an’ unquote therapy sessions” Carlos laughed at that “taught me anything. It’s that…I rely on someone else's love to measure my self-worth”

Carlos hummed, squeezing Mal's shoulder again “that’s not a good thing”

“no!” Mal huffed, running her hands through her hair and pulling at the roots “it isn’t! I've been trying to earn my mother's love for 16 years, then I just hop to doing so much bullshit to make sure Ben will love me! I dyed my hair blonde, I dressed in those itchy dresses, I dropped my entire personality for all that! And-and it wasn’t good, I felt like I was slipping away Carlos” Mal sobbed, tears trailing down her cheeks as she finally broke “I don’t even remember what I’m supposed to act like without all that because I spent so long doing it I just-I forgot what being ME felt like” Carlos fully wrapped his arms around Mal and pulled her tight to his side.  “I-I know it sounds like I’m being pathetic and having a fucking pity party but I’m just so fucking scared Carlos” Mal whimpered, throwing her arms around Carlos’ torso and pushing her cheek against his shoulder “on the isle my life was commanded by my mother and my identity was pleasing her, and here my life has been being Ben’s girlfriend and pleasing the people of Auradon so they think I’m not some villain whose just after Ben because he’s king…I-I do really like Ben Carlos”

Mal sniffed, pulling back one of her arms and wipe her nose “I do, it's just that…being with him hasn’t helped me move on from my mother bullshit and im-gah!” Mal let out a yell, pulling back from Carlos and burying her face in her hands “I’m having a fucking identity crisis because of my fucking mother! Why can’t she just leave me alone! Why can't all this dumb shit be left behind five months ago! Why do I still have to deal with it?!” Carlos let Mal rant, rubbing her back as she broke down.

“because life is unfair that way” Carlos sighed “Mal I know exactly what you're dealing with right now” Mal peeked out from her fingers, her eyes shining “I still have nightmares from living in my mother’s closet, getting trapped in the bear traps on the ground, or when she would burn me with her cigarette…even ones were she sends dogs at me to kill me…I still hear her voice in my head, telling me I’m worthless, that I’ll never be better than dog chow, my only use was being her servant” Carlos swallowed down the lump in his throat “but I know she's wrong, I’m not anything she says. I’m a tech genius, I've made several computers on the isle just from scraps, I've enhanced my 3D printer to be the best in Auradon, faster than any other and the quality is still top-notch, I've made a tiny little device that was able to make a hole in the barrier, I've gotten offers to work for Tony fucking Stark!” Mal gasped, reaching forward to grab Carlos' shoulders in excitement.

“holy shit what!? When? How? Why?!” Carlos smiled, prying off her grip.

“I knew you all were distracted by something else, especially you, so I didn’t want to make you stressed by my stuff either, it was two months ago. I didn’t take the offer because I want to finish school, but the offer still stands when I graduate in two years” Mal grinned, but it turned to a pout as Carlos gave her a look “Now back to the original topic, I’m not letting you deviate from it, you need to let it all out”

Mal stared at him for a moment before shrugging “I…feel like I already did…Auradon is stressful, my mother is the base of all my mental shit, and I’m not ready to be in a relationship with the dude I love because until I can love myself and learn not to rely on others value of me as my own value I can't be with him in a way that won't hurt him” Carlos slowly grinned “what?” “you said you love Ben~” he teased, laughing as Mal turned red and smacked him.

“I did not!!” she screeched, yelping as Carlos half tackled her and pulled her into an arm lock “Let me go you heathen!”

“you love Ben~ you love Ben~” Carlos sang, laughing as she tried to smack at his face “Come on, pixie! Let's get you back to the dorms, I think you need a nap”

“Don’t call me pixie!”

“How bout gremlin?”

“Carlos!!”

-

Chad carefully pulled the 3D printed copy of the king's crown from the printer and pressed a kiss to the emblem on the front. “Finally,~” He walked over to the mirror that was installed in Jay's standing dresser and carefully perched the crown on his head, smiling as his full cotillion outfit came to light.

He looked like a king~

He tilted the crown down a bit and laughed, posing in the mirror “oh what's that? Why no Audrey, I haven’t chosen my queen yet~” He purred to the fake Audrey in his mind. He turned and started to walk away before spinning back around to pose again “why no Audrey-”

Suddenly his phone rang, and he turned, raising his brow as he walked over to his phone “who could be calling me?”

Caller ID - Audrey <3

Chad let out a high-pitched scream of excitement, dropping his phone to the floor as he gripped his head “ahhAH! Audrey!!!”

“chad!” Carlos groaned, glaring as the other dived to the floor for his phone, and shushed him “Chad! This is my room chad!”

Chad shushed him again, making Carlos roll his eyes. Chad hit the answer button on his phone “Audrey?”

“Hey Chad um, I’m kind of stuck in Sherwood forest, my tire went flat. Could, could you come help me?”

“yeah of course!” Chad covered the mic and turned back to Carlos “she got a flat tire in Sherwood forest and she wants me to come fix it~” Carlos squinted a bit and looked at Chad with an odd look.

“that’s six hours away”

Chad looked at him as if what he said wasn’t a long road trip. “Really? Only six?” he turned back to his phone and put it back to his ear “I’m gonna be there faster than I thought”

“Thanks Chad, I was going to come to cotilli-“ he pulled the phone away and pressed a kiss to the screen, hanging up on Audrey and starting to walk out the door when Carlos stopped him.

“Ah-My printer my crown” Carlos took the crown off Chad's head, who chuckled and gestured back from the printer to the crown before shrugging it off.

“I’m coming Audrey!” he ran down the halls towards his car, leaving a bewildered Carlos in his dorm.

“wow,” Carlos snorted, shaking his head and walking into the room, tossing the crown on Jay's bed. Carlos flopped down on his bed, Dude hopping up next to him moments later “these last two days have been crazy huh?”

“You can say that again” Dude snorted, halfway crawling on Carlos' chest and laying his head down “Nap time?”

“Nap time” Carlos chuckled, pulling his pillow over his face to block out the afternoon sun and sighed.

-end of part 14-

yep, part 14, we’re almost to Cotillion guys! also yep, Doug does not accuse Evie of cheating on him even though he had no reason to do so in the movie and he shows concern over Evie and her friends safety when she tells him about the isle~ what?? no~ this isn't a dig at Doug's awful D2 writing!! how could you accuse me of such a thing~! (Doug had alot of potential but like Mal it got ruined in the second movie and he was pushed as a full on background character in the third) also MORE CARLOS CONTENT~ yes he is smart boi and deserves that recognition and yes, the avengers exist in this universe. hopefully that Mal talk didnt sound like a pity party. 

anyway PERMTAGLLIST

@queer-cosette​ @sephiralorange​

@lunanight2012​ @daughter-of-the-stars11​

@musicarose​ @random-thoughts-003​

@remembered-license​ @rintheemolion​

@thecaptainsgingersnap​ @descendantsobsessed​

@verboetoperee​ @imtryingthisout​

taglist

@thesailbells​ @beccad10x​

[heyheydidjaknow]

I would’ve posted this earlier but, alas, I passed out early. This is a longer one, but tumblr got its act together so I can post it all in one part. You guys know where the other chapters are, and if you don’t, they’re at the end of the chapter. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go eat straight Nutella.

Chapter 10

“I’m thinking about getting some gloves.”

He looks over at you as he laces up his skates. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, smiling slightly to yourself as you look your hands over, trying to imagine what they would look like. “Like, badass, fingerless gloves.”

He smiles. “Dude, those would look metal as fuck.”

“Totally, right?” Your smile widens. “With studs and shit.”

He gets to his feet, hopping onto the ice. “Hell yeah.” He drops a puck to assault as you go back to your backed-up coursework the best you can—your handwriting has gone to hell, but you are working with what you have.

You flinch at the crack of his stick, the cross of the T ending up underneath the letter somehow. A cheer from Casey tells you the rubber cylinder’s fate.

‘I swear I learned this.' You squint at the basic algebra, the pencil, crudely held in your fist, hovering over the packet. ‘Why can’t I do this?’

“How’s your pile coming along?” Another crack.

“It’s comin’.” You run your fingers through your hair. “Just… trynna remember how to do ne—… subtraction.” ‘Not debate. Negating is debate.’

He laughs. Another crack. “Man, that thing really fucked you over, huh?”

“Thoroughly.” You decide against continuing to torture yourself, having been at it for the past five hours—most of it in the library before Casey invited you to watch him practice some more— and set the large stack of homework back in your bag. “Are you actually making the shots?”

“Casey Jones doesn’t miss shots.” Another crack.

“Pardon me, oh almighty king of the ice.” You stand on your good leg, grabbing the side of the wall to watch as he went back to collect his pucks.

You two have managed to bond over a mutual respect/love of heavy metal and hockey and, seeing as you are staying out of the Hamatos’ hair for a while—not upon request, but out of courtesy—you have managed to spend a lot more time with him than you may have otherwise. Your school has not assigned Biology any big projects yet, so, until you are assigned it, you do not have anything other than your health to stress about.

“Pardon accepted.” You watch his form as he performs another slap shot.

“You…” you trail off, trying to remember what you were going to say.

“What?”

You shrug. “Dunno.” You lean your head on your arms. “I’ll remember eventually.”

He drops the second puck. “Got any plans after this?”

You sigh. “Nope. Probably gonna head home and try not to cut my fingers making dinner again.”

He takes another shot. “Then let’s go out after this. You and me.”

You smile. “What, don’t have any plans either?”

“Nah.” He drops the third. “Dad doesn’t care if I’m home late anyway.”

“True, true.” You have decided against prying into his home life; it is not your place and does not concern you in the slightest. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Wanna catch a movie? Heard there was this new pizza place just a couple blocks down if you wanna try to sneak it in.”

You snicker. “In the box and all?”

“Yes.” He grins mischievously and hits this one off the walls. Some way, somehow, it still makes it into the goal. “I bet your sweatshirt is big enough to stick the box under.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Not in the mood for burns on top of scars, Jones,” you reprimand him teasingly. “That just ain't it.”

“Then you can wear mine under that one and—”

“Your sweat-soaked hoodie you’ve been practicing in all day?” You cringe at the thought. “Over my dead body.”

“I mean…” he licks his teeth, smile widening, “it’s not exactly like you’re in the best—”

You laugh. “So not cool!”

He puts his hands up in defense, gliding over. “I mean, am I wrong, though?”

“That is completely besides the point, you ass.” You balance on your foot, crossing your arms. “Damn. Making fun of the girl with the broken leg.”

He leans against the wall. “Man, you were dying before the crash.”

You roll your eyes. “Alright, whatever, Jones.” You lean against your hand. “How’s Johanna,” you sing.

He presses his hand against your face, pushing you away. “Annie is doing fine.”

You grin, steadying yourself on the wall. “Do you feel her, Johanna?”

“I’m gonna tell her you call her that if you don’t quit it.”

“Do you think that walls can hide her? Even when you’re at her window?”

He pushed his arm all the way out. You hop back.

“Her name isn’t even Johanna.”

“But she is Johanna,” you whine in protest, not bothering to hide your mirth. “She has the hair, the voice, the disposition. She’s an ingénue and you know it.” You have been teasing him about this for a while now: the girl in question—Annabelle Halshaw, a year below you two—had caught his eye when he had heard through the grapevine that she was the lead singer in some indie band. When he had shown you a picture and told you the story, you insisted on calling her Johanna for her golden hair and soft, sweet singing voice he had proudly had you listen to.

“She’s not.”

You roll your eyes, sitting back down as you grab your bag. “Lie to yourself all you want,” you goad, “but deep down, you know in your heart that the truth,” you put a finger up, “is apparent.”

He hops off the ice, sitting next to you as he unlaces his skates. “Whatever.” He smirks. “How’s The Don?”

You avert your gaze. “I haven’t seen ‘im.”

“Boo.” He tied the laces together. “Some girlfriend you are,” he ribs.

You go red. “Not my boyfriend. Not even friends with benefits.”

“Yeah, sure.” He sets the skates into his bag. “That’s why you already know his family.”

“That—”

“And why you’ve had him over to your place.”

“If you don’t cool your tits, I’m telling Lucy you’re crushing on her friend.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“What,” you simper, “think I won’t?”

He grabs his bag. “If you do, I’ll show her that video.”

You laugh, following him out of the rink. “You’re the worst.” You note how strange it is that he spent so little time on the ice as you two walk out, but you do not say anything about it.

“Hey, you’re the one throwing threats around.”

“Yeah,” you argue, “but my threat is clearly better.”

He rolls his eyes, pushing you again.

You two keep chatting on the way to the theatre about anything and everything, from new bands to upcoming games to the newest blockbuster horror movies. You are not personally on the hockey team, but, as his friend, it is your duty to care. Besides, you figure, it gives you something to look forward to.

The movie is fine. You convince him against sneaking an entire pizza in, you split a bucket of popcorn, and you give him shit for getting freaked out by the disembowelment scene. It is payback for him teasing you about crying during the last movie you two went to a couple of days ago.

You two stand at the streetlight.

“Dude, it’s like eight,” he groans. “It’s not even late.”

“True,” you agree. “Counterpoint: I still have another week’s worth of work to do by Friday on top of the homework I’ll have to do anyway, so unless you wanna help—”

“Forget I asked.” He pulls his hood up against the autumn wind. “Need me to walk you back?”

“Nah.” You shrug. “If someone mugs me, they’ll give me an excuse to not do my homework.”

“Murdered?

“I’m already halfway there.”

He grins. “See ya tomorrow, Y/N.”

“See ya, Jones.” You wave as he runs off.

The walk home is quiet and considerably easier than it was a couple of weeks ago. Seeing as you now get queasy whenever you get into a car, you have been limited to taking the subway and walking, which, among other things, has contributed positively to your physical strength. You know that you should probably at least try to take the bus or a cab around town to build your tolerance up, but the last time you tried, you had almost tripped and fallen from how shaky your legs were getting out. Oddly enough, you note as you go through the door, you do not have a considerably larger fear of heights than you did before, or of fire, but cars were tripping you up, even though you were the one that crashed it. You feel thankful that, at least, you do not think your fear is crippling. At least, you reason, you can still get into the car.

You lock the door behind you, debating whether you feel like adding to the collection of cuts you now possess— they are self-inflicted, but not intentionally so; you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge the fact that you physically cannot use your hands to cut things. You decide against it tonight, tossing your bag on the bed as you sprawl across it, admittedly exhausted. You allow yourself a couple of seconds with your eyes closed before you pull yourself up with a groan and get back to work.

A part of you wishes that you had the physical energy to stay out longer. You are always trying to find excuses not to sleep, and although the mountain of homework and readjusting your timelines for things you missed is certainly one way to keep yourself preoccupied, it is not exactly what you would consider fun. Then again, reliving your greatest traumas while you sleep is not exactly fun either.

You catch yourself peeling at the newly applied bandages on your fingers, fingernails catching under the crudely applied adhesives. Applying bandages properly requires more dexterity and patience than you currently possess, and you are hardly going to ask someone else for help with something as stupid as that. You have lasted this long without needing too much help. People can live by themselves. You will live, probably. Well? Not your concern.

‘I should eat something.’ Your eyes strain to focus on the piece of paper in front of you, your mind wandering aimlessly as you try to impress the actual importance of finishing this upon yourself, but you find that is an insurmountable feat.

You drop your bag off the side of the bed, reaching down and pulling your shoe off, leaning back into your pillows, the weight of the day practically immobilizing you. Fumbling hands switch the lamp off, bathing your room in momentary, blissful darkness before the gravity of your decision sets in.

“Alright, me,” you breathe to yourself. “What’s it gonna be today? My folks? Bradford? What’s his face? Hell,” you chuckle, “why not all three? I’m sadistic enough, I’m sure.”

You close your eyes. “Give me your worse,” you challenge as you slip into unconsciousness.

--

Two weeks.

He had kept his distance for about two weeks. It was not as if he did not care or was not morbidly curious what the crash had done to you—his glances through the curtains did not tell him much-- but, after some debate, he had figured you needed time to recuperate before you would want his company. Two weeks, he figured, would be enough time for you to get back on your feet or, at least, for you to start wanting company.

His excuse to see you had come in the form of his brother’s newfound prideful boasting. Feigning insult was as good an excuse as any to go see you; after all, he just so happened to be in the neighborhood anyway, and it was normal to pop in to see someone if you were already just a couple blocks down, right? Sneaking away was easy enough—they would not mind his absence—and he, after much prep work, knew exactly how and why he was going to say the things he would to get in your good favor. The plan, he knows, would have gone swimmingly.

His plans seem asinine when he hears you crying.

His brothers do not cry much. He does not, either; it was a habit that they had all thoroughly bullied themselves out of when they were much younger and, if they still did, he knew nothing of it. His master did not encourage this, per se, but talked, then, frequently about the importance of maintaining a more stoic disposition and not allowing emotions to cripple you in battle. Practically, Donatello was satisfied with that explanation, having not properly cried for more than a year now. To hear the sound again, especially coming from you, was novel.

Novel, too, is how you are crying. The sound is less of actual sobbing and more of you being strangled, quiet gasps for air escaping your lips as you shake on the bed, curled in on yourself and clutching at your chest as if whatever pain you are experiencing is centered and can be relieved by something between your collarbones. His eyes, for the first time, trace the lines on your skin, your sleeves riding up your arms to reveal them to him, tears racing down and along the gash in your face. Everything about the scene, from the soft gasping of panic to your position to the heavy scarring, is completely foreign to him, rivaled only by one or two particularly hard nights when he and his brother were much younger.

He slides in through the window, leaning onto the bed. His fingers flick your lamp back on as he grabs your shivering shoulder tightly, shaking you awake as he mumbles words of encouragement. He is not sure if his help will be appreciated, if snapping you out of it was even what he is supposed to do in this situation, but now is not the time to think of that. You are in pain. He can offer you this kindness. “Wake up,” he pleads, not thinking of how this would look until your eyes snap open to look at him.

Immediately, the reality of the situation sets in, and he scrambles off the bed. ‘Why did I think that would be a good idea?’ Panic. ‘You just walked into her room like a fucking creep. See, now she’s going to—’

“Sorry.”

He blinks, looking up at you from his place on the floor. “Huh?”

You clear your throat, wiping the tears from your eye with your sleeve quickly as you bring your knees to your chest, voice hoarse. “Sorry,” you repeat. “That you… I’m not sure what I’m apologizing for, but I know I should be apologizing.”

He is completely dumbfounded.

Your eyes glance to the open window. “I should probably start closing and locking my window, right?” You rub the back of your neck, voice clearing the longer you talk. “It didn’t occur to me since I’m so high up, but if you guys can get in, The Foot can too, right?”

‘Why is she apologizing?’

You push the hair out of your face. ‘You need something, right? I—uh—need to stop saying ‘right’ so much.” You shake your head to clear it. “’ Sup?”

He hears himself mumble some bullshit out about being in the neighborhood.

You sigh. “Sorry.” You close your eyes. “I’m usually up later; I’ve been so tired lately.”

‘Is she serious right now?’ He is completely lost. ‘She was just crying her eyes out in her sleep and now she’s apologizing? Did I miss something?’ You are smiling now, eyes still bloodshot, as if the whole thing is a figment of his imagination, still shivering where you sit.

He rises to his feet, kneeling in front of you on the bed. “What was it about?”

You blink, seemingly confused. “Huh?”

“Your nightmare,” he clarifies. “You were crying. What was it about?”

You avert eye contact. “Nothing too crazy,” you shrug. “Just about the crash. Nothing too exciting.” If possible, he thinks the bags under your eyes are worse than the last time you saw him.

He takes your hands loosely, turning them palms up to look, for the first time, at the patchwork quilt that is now your skin. “What happened in it?” He runs his thumb along the lines, keeping his voice low; he remembers how that used to help when Mikey used to have fits when they were younger. Leonardo and Raphael were never good at that; they took better to being more violently snapped out of their moods, but, then again, they never had this kind of breakdown; theirs were always more driven by loathing, self or otherwise.

You pause, still not looking him in the face as your muscles relax. He remembers, vividly, how he had done something similar when you two had first met, how much better, health-wise, you looked. ‘How long has it been since then? Three months? A little less?’

You take a deep breath. “Just… family shit,” you mumble, eyelids drooping as you trace his frame loosely. “Fire.”

Your gaze is piercing as you finally look at him properly. He feels something catch in his throat as you bow your head.

“It’s my fault, you know.” Your voice is so soft, barely a whisper. “That they’re dead, I mean.”

The air is a suffocating blanket that smothers you both.

“I never told you, did I?” Your focus does not shift as it might have a bit ago. It is locked solely and intensely on him, taking in every detail of his expression. “How I died? How they died? Why I died?”

Hesitantly, he shakes his head. He thinks it best to just be quiet and let you talk. He does not think he has ever heard anyone speak in quite the same tones, ever looked at him quite the same way you are.

You take another breath. “I wanted to try my hand at baking.” You force your eyes to stay focused on his. “I was—still am—not good about sleep. I always slept bad, and never at the right times. I used to take pills for it, to try to get myself back on track.”

He sees where this is going.

“I thought I could still stay up as late as I was used to.” You glance to the side, stealing yourself a second before focusing back on the boy in front of you. “I sat down in my room, turned on a movie. I set a timer. I fell asleep.” You swallow, hands shaking in his. “I can’t smell well, either. I must not have smelled the burning.” Your lips curl in a bitter smile. “Sure as fuck felt it, though, when I woke up.”

He lets you finish.

You try to blink the tears out of your eyes. “They were asleep,” Your voice rises ever so slightly. “I fell asleep at two something. I woke up when they started yelling.” You purse your lips, face reddening in shame as your nostrils flair. “They were trying to get someone out of bed when the roof caved in above them. My door got blocked.”

You feel yourself smile.

“So,” you strain not to cry, “that, Donatello, is why I’m here and why I’m dead, and why I really do deserve to burn again.” You laugh. “Hell, my body count is rivaling some serial killers, so that’s… that’s certainly something.”

He lets go of your hands, face blank.

You lean forward, placing your hands on your knees. “I don’t blame you,” You wipe a wayward tear out of your eyes, trying to swallow the frog in your throat. “Fuck, man, I’d think less of me, too, if it were me.” You nod towards the window. “I get it if you want to leave, but I thought you might want to know why—”

He stops you mid-sentence, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to him.

Your arms lay slack at your sides as you try to process what is happening.

He does not say a word.

You break.

You burry your face into him, tears welling in your eyes as you let out a strangled sob. You hold onto him tightly as you struggle to breathe, body shaking as you wrap your own arms around him the best you can. The sound roars in your ears like thunder, the deafening quiet of the apartment punctuated only by your own cries. He gently holds you there, resting his head on top of yours. Each sound you make sounds as though you are physically being choked by your guilt, and his chest feels as though it is being crushed by an invisible hand as he listens to your pain.

Neither of you knows how long you stay like that.

He considers telling you a story from a long time ago, about some training he and his brothers had back then, but thought better of it; he does not want to upset you any more than you already are, and being in good company with someone like him may not be exactly what you need right now. Granted, he does not know what you do need, but he knows listening to him talk about bashing brains would not help your sensibilities any.

Instead, he stays quiet.

You pull away after a while, wiping your face off again as you mumble out an apology.

“Don’t apologize.” He clears his throat. “It’s good to cry; it releases endorphins.”

You smile at that. “Well,” you giggle tearfully, “if it releases endorphins.”

He smiles back, face flushing. You look good, he thinks, even with your face all red. He knows that, scientifically, there is probably a reason, but he cannot think of it right now.

He stands up. “I’ll get—”

You grab his hand tightly.

He looks back at you.

“Can I ask a favor?”

He blinks. “Of course,” he agrees easily. “Anything.”

You glance off. “Promise not to take it weird?”

He feels his heart rate increase. “Y-yeah,” he nods.

He feels you pull him gently back on the bed. “Can you stay here tonight?”

His eyes widen as they flicker between the mattress and you. “What,” he clarifies breathlessly, “like sleep with you?”

You nod.

“In the same bed?”

You hesitate, nod again.

He clears his throat, face heating again. “Like, actually?”

“If it wasn’t actually, I wouldn’t ask, would I?” You grip his hand tightly. “I just really don’t want to be alone tonight.”

‘Oh.’ He mentally kicks himself. ‘She’s scared. Don’t make her uncomfortable.’

“It’s alright if you don’t—”

He is extremely quick to reassure you that he is more than happy—‘Bad choice of wording.’—to stay tonight until you fall asleep, but that he would not stay the whole night as to not worry his brothers.

You nod in agreement. “That’s fine.” You rub the back of your neck. “Not sure I would be good company when I wake up, anyway; I still have class.”

“Oh, right.” He nods in understanding, pushing himself further onto the bed. “Which side…?”

You shrug. “Which way do you face?”

“I usually lie on my stomach.”

“Then it doesn’t matter.” You slide your sweatshirt over your head after a bit of squirming around, tossing it onto the couch.

His face is now scarlet. “Okay then,” he mumbles, laying down on the side away from the window. ‘Is she going to—no, stop that.’

You look over at him, face down on the mattress. You can almost feel the heat coming off him. “Are you alright there, buddy?”

He nods.

You shrug, laying down under the blanket and curling into him, facing the window. “Mind getting the light?”

He reaches over, clicking it off.

You sigh in content, turning to face him, teetering on the edge of the mattress. “I’m not venomous,” you inform him teasingly. “I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: of the two of us, you should not be the one who’s a nervous wreck.”

“You dunno that.” His voice is muffled by the bed.

“You’re the strong one,” you argue.

“So?” He turns his head to look at you. “I’m the guy laying in the—I’m just gonna stop that sentence.”

“It’s only bad if it isn’t consensual.” You smile reassuringly. “I invited you to lay with me, right? So, unless I make you uneasy, then we’re all good.”

He breaks eye contact. “So,” he clarifies, “you don’t mind if I move closer to you?”

You shake your head.

He hesitantly slides himself further onto the bed. “Can I move closer than this?”

“You’ve already seen me bawl my eyes out. You’re doing me a service. Move as close or as far as you want.”

He moves to press his side against you. “Is this fine?”

You nod. “Look, how about this?” You rest your arm under your head. “If you do something I’m uncomfortable with, the safe word is pina colada.”

‘We already have a safe word?’ He was not sure if he is on cloud nine or just terrified of you.

You are very confused why he looks so warm. “Do you need me to turn the AC on?”

He shakes his head. “I’m good,” he assures you tightly. Slowly, he reached an arm out and over your waist, pulling you closer. You do not seem to resist in any way, wrapping your good leg around one of his to pull him closer.

‘Conscious touching.’ He glances down at you, trying to act cool. ‘Conscious, intentional touching. She smells so nice and she feels—okay, this is not going to work if you keep being a perv.’

“Thanks,” you mumble, humming softly. “I appreciate this more than you know.”

Cloud nine. Definitely on cloud nine.

“Every time.”

You giggle.

He blinks. “What?”

“Every time,” you note, already nodding off. “Like in that book.”

‘Which one?’ “They wrote it down for a reason, right?” The longer he spends like this, the smoother he feels.

“Totally.” You smile, closing your eyes. “Just know that this goes both ways, alright? If you ever need help like this, you know who to call.”

This is new. ‘Help like this? What, like crying?’ His eyebrows furrow as he tries to understand what you mean. ‘Or he means if I ever need company in my—what did I just say?’

You pick up on his confusion. “Emotional help, I mean.” Your fingers trace the indentations in his shell absentmindedly. “I mean, I know sometimes I didn’t want to go to my family about stuff. I dunno if you have that…” you trail off, realizing that you might be unintentionally bashing his brothers. You sincerely do not want to blow this.

“I mean,” he says after a bit, “I think I get what you’re talking about.” He sighs. “You mean stuff that they’d make fun of me for, right?”

You nod.

He feels his heart melt a little. “I’ll have to take you up on that.”

You forgot how safe he makes you feel. “Goodnight, Donnie,” you mumble sleepily.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You pass out not long after that. If he has to estimate a general amount of time, he will clock it in at about five minutes. He does not move, however, until about thirty minutes before sunrise, too busy listening to the sound of your breathing and memorizing how exactly your body feels next to his. As he slips out of the window, early morning air waking him back up completely, he wonders if, someday, he could stay to see you wake up next to him. Not out of necessity, but just because you both wanted to stay like that for a while more.

‘I hope so. It’s a nice dream to have, anyhow.’

Table of Contents

Chapter 9

Chapter 11

[kareofbears]

plainly in truth, chapter 1/5

“Without you around, it's sorta like stuff is just kinda...bleh."

—

Or: hiding, confiding, and misguiding.

read on ao3 or below the cut :)

The sweat on the back of Ryuji’s neck is thick as he climbs the stairs to his apartment after a lengthy run.

It’s hot for spring, mild for summer, and now that it’s late June, it’s finally starting to teeter into real heat. He escalated slowly, gripping the guard rail like an old man to make sure his legs don’t give out, in no rush to head back to an empty apartment. His mom’s been doing back to back shifts, businesses booming like it does during this time of the year.

Normally, that would make him miserable. Nothing worse than hopping back from a day of fun shit only to come back to an empty living space with laundry piled to the nines and the TV left running. He doesn’t blame his mom because he’s not an asshole, but he never dealt well with being alone. But nowadays, he’s actually starting to like it. Crave it. Maybe a little too much.

It’s easier to deal with being alone than getting that sinking feeling he gets whenever he talks to his friends.

Shoving his hand in his basketball shorts, he pulls out his keys when something makes him pause. The plastic plant beside the entrance had been moved. Ryuji squints. Quietly, he grabs the knob and turns. It’s unlocked.

“Hey.”

Ryuji lets out a frustrated sigh, tension leaving his shoulders as he kicks the door closed. “Fucking hell. How’d you get in here?”

Seeing Ann sit primly with her legs crossed in a dining table that’s barely big enough to put two plates down evokes a feeling of nostalgia in him. She holds a key between her fingers idly. “Spare key hasn’t changed since we were thirteen.”

He walks to the fridge, pulls out a carton of milk and drinks it straight, ignoring her grimace. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he offers it to her.

“Hard pass.”

“Suit yourself,” he shrugs, putting it back in the fridge. “I’m gonna shower. I think we might have some chips in the cupboards if you want some. Might be stale though.”

When Ann speaks again, her tone is flat. “You haven’t been hanging out with us. Or even talking to us.”

He tries not to let the annoyance show in his face too much. “Yeah, well, what part of ‘I need some alone time’ was confusing to you?”

Wood creaks, and he can feel her presence right behind him. “Cut the crap, Sakamoto. Something happened, I know it did. It’s not like you for your big mouth to be shut like this.”

Shaking his head, he strides to his room, praying that Ann will take the hint.

She doesn’t. “Okay, so I’ll just keep talking until something happens.” She leans against his door frame as he rummages for a change of clothes, listing off with her fingers. “It’s summer vacation, so it’s not a school thing. Phantom Thief stuff has been done for a while, so it’s not that either. I saw your mom last week, and she’s doing great. Congratulate her on the promotion for me, by the way. And the only other thing in your life that’s important is—” he hears her pause suddenly. “Are you and Akira doing okay?”

The sudden sharpness in her voice is enough to make his irritation ebb away for a second. “We’re fine,” he answers, pulling a probably clean shirt from the bottom of his drawer. He knows just how much she’s invested in their relationship. She’s pretty much a third member given how desperate she is to make them work. “I would’ve told you if we weren’t.”

“Thank god,” she breathes. “So what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he rolls his eyes. “A big fat load of nothing with nothing sprinkled on top. You want me to say it again?”

“If it’s nothing, then why aren’t you over the moon that Akira’s finally visiting tomorrow?”

His stomach does a weird flop inside of him. He can’t tell if it’s a good flop or a bad one. “I’m over the moon,” he defends. “I’m crazy excited.”

“Then show it!”

“Okay! Damn, sorry I wasn’t happy enough for you.” Giving up on finding clean shorts, he picks one up from the floor and hopes it isn’t too gross. “I’m headed to the shower.” He rounds on her, giving her a glare. “And do not tell Akira that anything’s going on with me, ‘cause there isn’t anything going on. You’re just gonna make him worry for no reason and he’s gonna be all—” he frowns, overexaggerated. “—About this, so cool it.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. He won’t hear about it from me.” Ann gives him a long stare, and he refuses to look away. “You sure you’re okay?” she asks, softer this time.

“Never been better. Now scram.”

“Good. See you tomorrow, and don’t be late!” she calls as she marches through his apartment, foot out the door. “Noon! Leblanc!”

“I got it!” he yells back.

When the lock clicks back into place, Ryuji leans his back against the wall, letting his eyes slide shut. Is he that obvious that Ann would notice? He rubs his eyes with palms, frustrated. If Ann noticed, Akira’s definitely going to notice, and that isn’t allowed. He’ll just have to do better.

Going into the bathroom, flicking on the shower, he realizes he forgot his towel in his bedroom. Stupid Ann, distracting him.

Padding back to his room, he nabs it from the side of his bed, refusing to look at the letter collecting dust on his desk as he flicks the light off once more.

—

Akira came home to a face-full of streamers, two pots of curry, and six arms tackling him. Smiles and hugs were passed like a bottle of wine after a war has been won, and Akira shrugs it all off like he isn’t soaking up each and every exclamation of how much they miss him for a rainy day. Morgana gets his fair amount of head scratches, Akira gets enough noogies to warrant a concussion, and even Ryuji somehow manages to forget his problems for approximately three minutes.

It’s evening now, and while everyone had already left (not after slamming down two plates each and Yusuke brazenly asking for tupperware after the fact), Ryuji decided to linger.

“So,” he starts, sleeves rolled up as he washes the dishes while Akira dries. It might not look like it, but he doesn’t mind doing his chores; especially not with the way they both purposefully knock their knuckles against each other whenever they pass a plate between themselves.

“So,” Akira repeats. “I’m home. That’s cool, huh?” Even with eighteen layers of nonchalance layered on top of each other, there’s no hiding the lilt in his voice.

“Pretty damn cool,” he rinses a mug and hands it to him. Ryuji pauses as he watches Akira dry, lip quirked up. “I like seeing you like this.”

“Cleaning?”

“No, you bastard.” He reaches forward, unable to help himself as he pinches his cheek. “Smiley.”

Akira slaps his hand away. “I’m always happy,” he says, voice fond.

“I didn’t say happy, now did I? I said—” Ryuji wipes both hands on his jeans before pinching his cheek with both hands. “Smiley!”

He doesn’t fight back this time; instead, he lets Ryuji knead his face. “Your hands are wet,” he complains, slightly slurred.

“Suck it up.” His skin is mesmerizingly soft. Probably softer than even a girl’s. He would hold him like this all night if he’d let him. “This saves you from washing your face tonight, so you’re welcome.”

With one last tug, he reluctantly sets him free. Akira’s face is red and blotchy from the assault, but somehow he pulls it off because of course he does. “Thanks,” he deadpans.

“Don’t sweat it, dude. You know I got you,” he laughs, and for a second, he feels good. Light. Being with Akira does that to him, a pendant that wards off all evil. The pendant must’ve had some fine print in the contract though, because his stomach drops again when he remembers again. Ryuji turns around and starts scrubbing the pan harder than he needs to. Chill out, chill out, chill out.

Arms encircle his waist. “Sojiro’s gonna smite us if we don’t finish these before he opens tomorrow,” Ryuji says.

“I know.” A chin hooks around his shoulder blade, sliding in place. A perfect fit. “We’ll get to it.”

Ryuji leans back, far enough to smell the shampoo in his hair. He breathes in deep. It’s not what he’s used to, probably different brands in his hometown, but it still smells nice.

With the water still running, a group of businessmen’s laughter booming from just outside the cafe, Ryuji nearly says it. To take that weight off of his weakened knees and share some of the burden with someone who’s never complained about carrying some of his baggage. It would be embarrassing, humiliating, fucking mortifying, but it would be better than this, right?

He opens his mouth. “Missed you,” is what comes out instead.

“Missed you more, I think.” A beat passes, and then Akira continues, quietly: “You don’t know how good it feels to be back.”

That was all it took. The final piece, the last lock. The words he needed to convince him that this was the right thing to do. If he was on the fence of whether or not to tell Akira, this was the tug that took him over the edge. Because Akira came here for one reason: to have fun. To feel good again. To feel like Akira again. Is Ryuji really going to be the one to shit all over that? To fuck up his summer vacation with his problems again?

Yeah. Fuck that.

He wishes he can pull Akira impossibly closer. “Welcome home.”

It can wait until he leaves. After that, the world will just have to explode, taking him with it.

—

Ryuji’s in bed that night, tossing and turning, blanket tangled in his legs and head underneath his pillow, when he finally caves.

Smacking around for his phone, he pulls it to his face, squinting against the bright light.

SR: futaba

The response was immediate.

SF: what SR: that was fast. whatre you doing up SF: im always up. why are YOU up SR: just wanted to talk SF: ok

He waits a few moments to see if she’d continue the conversation. She doesn’t.

SR: hows school? SF: ?????? who cares, its three am SR: i care SF: ugh, go to sleep. we’re meeting tomorrow anyway SR: yeah but you dont talk about school during group meetings much SF: alright weirdo SF: schools cool. people mostly leave me alone, and i think akira must’ve tipped off kawakami cause she is wayyyy too nice to me even after bullying her in front of the class SR: what did you do lmfao SF: she said that whoever could recite pi to ten decimal points can get a bonus ten percent in the final SF: and i kept going until the bell rang SR: damn! SF: its mostly okay though. better than i thought it’d be for sure SR: and how about actual school stuff SR: like classes. Math, science, english, all that shit. SF: sheesh, easiest part no doubt. could do all that stuff in my sleep SR: really? even though youre a year behind? SF: uh yeah? i could be eight years behind and still dunk on these clowns with one hand tied behind my back and watching a live stream

Ah, right. Futaba’s a literal genius. As in ‘Make A Documentary Of Her In Twenty Years In A Movie He’d Never Watch But Makoto Would Love’ kind of genius. He forgot.

SR: nice SR: thanks, im gonna sleep now SF: kk see you SF: (¯﹃¯)

—

“Okay, this is getting a little ridiculous,” Ryuji says when he opens the door to his apartment.

Ann is sitting in his dining chair once again, this time donned in hot pink shades and a comically big sun hat. He tries not to let annoyance and panic flare inside him. He loves her, because of course he does, but he was banking on stocking up some energy and alone time before they hit the road. Maybe even shed a couple of frustrated tears, who knows? As long as he’s alone, it’s fair game.

“Hey, don’t give me any of that,” Ann says. “You and packing your luggage is like mayonnaise and my flawless complexion—it’s not good, buster. Remember Hawaii?”

He feels his skin heat up, and slams the door harder than he should. “How the hell was I supposed to know I’d get randomly checked? ‘Sides, I didn’t do anything illegal.”

“A backpack filled with condoms and a toothbrush might as well have been illegal.” Ann reaches into her pocket, whipping out a wrinkled piece of paper. “You can’t pull that kinda crap now, and if I know him as well as I do, I’m sure Akira’s already packing for that.” She laughs at her own joke and raises her hand enthusiastically. He can’t help but grin as he high fives her. Hey, even if his life is falling apart, at least he’s still getting some, right?

“So I’m here to help,” she continues, shaking the sting from her palms. “I finished packing a day early and everything, so I better get some thanks after this.” Before he can complain, she holds up a finger, expression stern. “I know you don’t need help. Yes, I’m still worried about you. Yes, I’m doing this because I’m worried about you. Let me do this stupid little thing, okay? It’ll make me feel better.”

His stomach churns, more intense than usual. “You’re still worried about me?” he asks, breath hitching. What? No. Did he fail at that too? Does she know? That must mean Akira knows, right? And if Akira knows, then—

“Whoa, hold on!” A hand grips his shoulders. “Deep breaths, Sakamoto. Don’t spiral on me now.” Gently, he’s led to a chair. He sits gratefully and waits for his heart rate to drop. The entire time, Ann stays quiet.

Eventually, when the room stops closing in on him, he sighs and leans back against his chair. “Sorry,” he says, feeling really stupid. Damn, what happened to him keeping this on the down low?

She slaps his knee. “Shut up, don’t apologize for that,” she scolds, and he almost smiles. It’s easy to forget how good Ann is at this sort of thing. For better or for worse, she’s had plenty of practice while talking to Shiho. The grip on his knee tightens. “Ryuji…”

He shakes his head. “No.”

And, for better or for worse, she absolutely does not let things go.

“Look, buddy.” The grip is starting to hurt, and it means business if her red acrylics are anything to go by. “I just saw you have a teensy little panic attack two damn minutes ago, and you’re expecting me to just leave you to it? Are you a clown? Are you a clown in a circus, Sakamoto? Is that what you are?”

“I just don’t want to fucking talk about it.” He shoves her hand off his knee, and before he knows it, his voice is raised. “Christ, can’t you just leave me alone? All you do is get up in my business when I clearly didn’t ask you to. Just cause we did this whole Phantom Thief crap together doesn’t mean it gives you the right to everything going on in my life.”

He loathes the ringing in his ears from his own voice. He hates it when he yells in the apartment, but hates the silence that follows more. Too much like his dad, too much like his exhausted mom.

Ann is staring up at him, hard and unwavering. “You’re such a piece of shit sometimes.”

“Huh?”

“If you want me off your tail, you’re gonna have to work harder than that.” She gets on her feet, glaring at him. “‘Piss me off and make me leave in tears’ was your tactic, right? Boring. Overdone. Try again.”

The way she’s standing, shoulders pushed back and chin jutted out like she’s ready for a shoot in some kind of army magazine, means she’s dead serious.

“Ann, just get the fuck out of my house. You’re really starting to get on my nerves.”

“Ooo, classic 'angry and make me storm off’, right? Better, but not good enough.”

“What the hell are you even saying?”

“I’m saying that you could say whatever pops into your bleached head—” she flicks his forehead, viciously sharp nails digging into his skin. “And I wouldn’t go anywhere. You could call me names, or threaten me, or try to hurt me, but I am not going anywhere.”

Her eyes are bright blue, but he can still feel the heat of it like Carmen was inches in front of him. His throat quivers when he swallows. She’s really not going to give in.

“My knee’s been real bad lately,” he relents, making a fist and lightly knocking it against his thigh. “Normally it acts up during bad weather, but the sun hasn’t left in weeks and it still sucks. I didn’t wanna tell anyone, ‘cause I hate talking about…” he trails off, but she doesn’t need him to continue. They both know damn well who he’s referencing.

Ann’s face crumbles. “That’s horrible,” she says, absently rubbing the red mark on his forehead. “I’m sorry I was mean.”

He waves it off, the same way he does whenever his mom asks him if he’s getting enough sleep. “Don’t sweat it. I know how crazy you get.”

It’s a real testament to how worried she must’ve been when she didn't take the olive branch. “I know you probably don’t want to worry the group, but you should tell Akira.”

“Ann—” he starts wearily.

“You know I’m right about this. Now that the Metaverse is back and we’re going to be running around more, he can’t not know about this. Your boyfriend aside, he’s our leader. Something really nasty can happen if we’re not thinking straight.”

“...Sure.”

Ann gives him a weird look. “That was surprisingly easy. I thought you’d complain more.”

She’s getting way too sharp. “What, you wanted me to be a dick about it?”

“I guess not.” Leaning against his kitchen counter, she chews her lip like it’s bubble gum. “Can I do anything to help?”

“Yeah.” Ryuji stands to stretch, ready for this conversation to be over. “You can keep this between us—”

“—Except for Akira,” they say in unison, Ryuji exasperated and Ann insistent.

“Fine. I’ll back off if you think you have it under control.”

“Hallelujah, she’s finally giving me space.”

“But,” her gaze is harder than steel. “Never, ever keep secrets from me again, got it?”

Ryuji rolls his eyes. “Gotcha. Can we get started now? I’m over talking about my horrible past so that we can finally have a straight-out-of-an-anime summer vacation.”

Her eyes brighten up. “Yes! Okay, I made this huge list and I know for a fact we’re gonna have to go for a quick shopping trip—”

“Quick? So, like, three hours going by your standards?”

“Don’t interrupt me. We need to pack some swim trunks, toiletries, and I know you’re worried about your mom so we’ll go grocery shopping for her before we leave in the morning.” Feet tapping excitedly, “This is gonna be so fun. You start packing, I’ll go shopping. Rendezvous in an hour.”

Before he even gets a chance to put a word in, she’s already out the door.

—

Later that night, when everything is messily thrown into one oversized backpack and a rucksack and the fridge is chock full of groceries for his overworked mother, he gets a text.

TA: i know you said not to bring it up but i dont care TA: i searched it up and apparently cold and hot compresses can help with the pain on your knee TA: also getting shoes with really good support would help too. i modeled for some shoe brands, i can def get you some discounts!!! TA: like, i know this is all base level stuff and you know this already, but i bet you we can ask sophia for more help. maybe she can access top secret doctor stuff for knee injuries?? :O

Ryuji stares at his phone for a long moment, before shoving it under his pillow.

Great. Add ‘guilt’ and ‘keeping up with a lie’ to the list of shit he has to worry about.

—

“A lake!” Yusuke cries, kneeling in front of the body of water like a man discovering a desert oasis. Gently, he cups the clean water and cradles it against his cheek. “You are nothing like the garbage-infested sewers in Tokyo. You are crystal clear. You are divine. You are salvation. You are—”

“Akira, Inari’s being a weirdo again,” Futaba points an accusing finger at Yusuke, who’s shirt is slowly absorbing more and more of the water. “At this rate, he’s gonna have to change.”

Makoto grunts as she lugs out the grill singlehandedly, a loud clang ringing out when she nonchalantly sets down a family-sized piece of machinery. “Alright, here it is.” She catches the look of awe that Ryuji’s giving her. “Does it still shock you that I can probably bench press you twice over?”

“I’m just trying to figure out where you’re hiding all that muscle, prez,” he snorts, and it’s the truth. Her and Akira must be the same breed, considering they’re both way too lithe to be this strong. He’s seen the way they throw a punch in the Metaverse—they could probably disintegrate a dude in real life if they really wanted to. Like yeah they workout, but not that much. Maybe they’re dieting too? He’s tried dieting, but ramen is just way too good, even at the expense of muscles.

“Ryuji, when you’re done spacing out, can you grab the ingredients?” Akira calls out.

“Ugh, cut the mind reading dude, it scares the hell out of me.”

He shoots him a signature Kurusu Akira smile; small yet disarming all the same, and it never fails to get Ryuji’s heart to do weird flips. “It’s not mind reading once you realize that I’m just obsessed with you.”

Instead of answering, Ryuji grumbles as he stalks off into the RV. Damn him and his genuine words and compliments.

He pulls out their luggage from underneath the table. Akira doesn’t need to say what ingredients he needs to grab—he’s helped out enough times during Leblanc’s afterhours to know the curry spices by heart. Ryuji might be a failure, but hey, he can do this no problem.

Grabbing bottles and shakers and balancing them on top of his arms like an overworked waiter, he glances left and feels his heart dropped. The envelope from his room—dust-free from rubbing against the rest of his luggage—is sticking out of his backpack. After a quick adjustment, he uses his free hand to shove it deep in his bag, hearing the paper crinkle in on itself.

It was a spur of the moment decision to bring it along with him, one that he’s still half-regretting. Why’d he do it? Maybe he was worried that he might enjoy this trip a little too much? Maybe he was some kind of masochist that likes having his problems and anxiety follow him literally everywhere he goes? Maybe he was scared to hell and back that his mom would find it before he had a chance to tell her himself? Fuck if he knows.

Poking his head out of the door, he yells, “Heads up!”

Throwing a bottle of black pepper, Akira catches it without looking. “Thanks.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

“Too late, I already sweat a little bit.”

Ryuji squints. “It’s sweated. Right, Ann?”

“Don’t look at me. I went to America for modelling, not a spelling bee.”

“I won all my spelling bees in middle school,” Makoto says, chest puffed out in pride.

“Were you the only one who joined?”

“That’s not important.”

Akira’s phone beeps enthusiastically, and Sophia’s voice rings out. “Got it! According to the internet, ‘sweat’ and ‘sweated’ are both grammatically valid. Technically, both Ryuji and Ann are correct.”

“Can we all just shut up for a second about sweating, for the love of god,” Futaba fans her face weakly. “It’s already sooooo hot. I feel like my skin is melting. Yusuke, is my skin melting?”

He looks at her for a moment, peering closely. “Yes.”

“How about we go in for a quick dip in the lake?” Haru offers, and Ryuji suspects that she can feel the same energy that he’s feeling when the group gets like this. “We were all talking about how beautiful it was, and it would cool down Futaba-chan no problem.”

She leans down, swirling her hand in the water. “It’s a little chilly, but it’ll definitely take care of the heat.”

“Good idea!” Futaba jumps up and throws off her shoes, ready to march in. “This is gonna feel so good.”

“Socks!” Akira reminds her.

“I know that!”

Haru and Yusuke follow suit, eager to get away from the heat, Makoto going in to change to shorts. Ryuji guesses it’s probably not an easy feat to roll up leather pants. Probably makes it either to ride motorcycles, or whatever people with leather pants do.

He feels a poke in his side. “You hopping in with them?” Akira asks.

No. The answer is already at the tip of his tongue, ready to roll out. Given how cramped the RV is, keeping up the trademark Sakamoto energy while lugging more baggage than an airport employee is brutal. It’s barely been a day since they started the trip, and he’s not sure how much longer he can keep this up. Already his chest feels heavy with something, and whenever all the windows are rolled up, it gets weirdly hard to breathe. But if he says no, Akira would definitely know something was up.

“Uh—”

“Actually, I think we’ll take over the curry for you,” Ann cuts in.

Ryuji turns to her, startled and wide eyed.

“Why?” Akira asks, just as confused as he is. They both know how much Ann loves being in the middle of things, especially in group hangouts.

“Because you look like you could use a break. I know for a fact that you had to pack Yusuke’s stuff for him, or else the van would’ve had fifteen canvases and an easel, and you had to grocery shop for everyone, and talk Haru out of a guilty spiral because she wasn’t confident enough in her driving. And all this before—” Ann looks down at her wrist to peer at a non-existent watch. “Five o’clock.

He frowns. “Sure, but I’ve done twice as much during our prime. This,” he gestures at the pot. “Is a walk in the park. Thank you, though.”

Ann sighs, heavy and contemplative. “I didn’t want to say it out right, but since you’re being difficult…” She places a hand on his shoulder. “You should hang out with Futaba more. Being gone from her for that long has been rough, and yes, we took care of her while you weren’t there, but you’re different.” Her hand tightens. “You know, Wild Card and all that.”

“That’s not what that means, but I appreciate the effort,” Akira says. Despite his words, it’s clear that what she said bothered him. Eyes flickering to Futaba, enthusiastically kicking the water to see how far the droplets would go, he directs his gaze to Ryuji. “Is it okay if…?”

Ryuji rolls his eyes, pretending like relief isn’t crashing through his body. “Go.”

Akira kisses his cheek. “Thank you.” When he pulls away, he gives Ann a hesitant look.

She grimaces. “Thanks, but no. Go hangout with the gremlin.”

He gives her a salute and saunters off, rolling up his jeans to wade through the water, making sure to splash Futaba on the way there.

After a moment of silence, he sighs. “Fine, I’ll say it. Your acting classes are actually doing you some good.”

“Ha!” she points at him triumphantly. “And you said it’d be a waste of time!”

“I didn’t say that.” Ryuji slouches into a nearby camping chair, the one that Sojiro forced them to lug along, hoping that some of his fatigue would seep away. “We both know that Futaba’s never been better, so what’s up? Why’d you throw out Akira like that?”

“It’s not for me, stupid,” she scoffs, but he can’t help but feel the weight in his chest get even heavier. He sinks even deeper into his chair. “The water was cold, right? That would make your knee even worse.”

“Yeah,” he blinks, having already forgotten the whole fucked-up knee story. “Thanks.”

“I won’t chew you out for not telling Akira, even though I should. But like I said,” she ruffles his hair. “I got your back. I know it must be hard, but you’re still acting all normal. We’re lucky that it’s only affecting you in the real world, too.” She had come up with that one herself, and thank god she did, cause he wouldn’t have known what to say if she had confronted him on how he could easily do flips and sprints in the Metaverse. “That just takes a lot of guts, and even though I know for a fact this would make you feel so much better once you tell him, I trust that you know what you need better than me.”

“Quit trying to look all cool,” he says, and prays to fucking god that the red on his face comes off as embarrassed gratitude rather than earth-shattering guilt. “And aren’t you supposed to be cooking, curry master?”

“Hey, he asked you to do it, not me. I’ll help you get the ingredients, but no way I’m doing the whole cooking shebang.”

“Ugh, fine,” he says, as if he doesn’t secretly love the idea of getting to cook for Akira this time instead of the other way around. Pushing himself up, Ann reaches out to help him. “You don’t gotta baby me, Takamaki.”

“I’ll baby you for as long as I need to, and then eventually Akira will be the one babying you. We come in shifts.”

“I hope you’re unionized.”

Makoto pokes her head out of the RV, wearing a showercap. “Did someone say unionized?”

“What the hell?” Ryuji staggers back in shock. Crap. “How long have you been there?”

“And why are you wearing that?” Ann gasps.

“Not long, and I don’t want my hair getting wet in case I fall in. We have no idea what’s been in here.”

“Were you going to fall in a bathtub?”

“Did you want me to push you in?”

“No, ma’am.”

—

There wasn’t a problem initially. Well, not one in Palaces, anyway. Wait, they’re called Jails now, which is really confusing. Ryuji’s just gonna have to avoid using those words so he doesn’t make himself look like an idiot.

Back in Shibuya, it had been...fine. Attacks landed, punches were dodged, Batons passed like his life depended on it (and it did). Like clockwork, instinct came to him and the weird nostalgic normalcy of fighting Shadows made it bearable.

Ryuji was off his game, and he could tell.

But he was barely off his game. If anything, he still had a foot on his game. Maybe even an entire leg on the game if he was being generous. He was still enough on the game that even Akira doesn’t notice.

But the weird part was, he doesn’t mind the fact that he’s off his game. In an even weirder way, he’s never been more on his game in his entire life.

“There!” Futaba’s voice crackles through the comms. “Uncle is open wide!”

“Her name is Ante, Oracle,” Makoto responds, brass knuckles jammed into the throat of some poor Shadow. “It’s open, but it’s vicious.”

Ryuji calls for Kidd just as she pulls away, wiping out the rest of the weaker ones with ease. “This thing’s like a goddamn mousetrap.” Ante’s serpent body slithering on the cool tiles so fluidly that it gives him the creeps. Her tail has tiny spikes etched into it, like mini knives hot glued onto a tetherball. The minute any of them even come close, she strikes outwards. “How vicious is vicious?”

“Depends on how fast you are.”

Akira’s head jerks up, and when their eyes meet, cracks a smile. “Fast, you say?”

Ryuji grins wider than he has in days. Joker relying on him? How can someone not feel a little giddy at that? “Say no more, leader.”

He stretches quickly, and feels eyes piercing the back of his head. Ann, probably. Shrugging it off, he sprints low towards Ante. As long as Ann doesn’t say a word, there won’t be a problem.

She’s taken hits from where Akira’s been concentrating on her. A mixture of bullet holes in its scales mixed in with cross slashes from where his bless attacks hit had left her delirious and pissed off. When he’s close, she bares her fangs and strikes, only for him to skid on the smooth tiles, rugged hands touching his mask.

“Come on out, Captain!”

His blond hair ruffled from Kidd’s attack, a crack of lightning came down from his Persona’s mangled hand, and a split second later her tail had been sliced clean through. And another crack comes, her neck landing on the tiles with a muffled thud. An attack that should’ve just been enough to incapacitate Ante had instead completely decapitated her.

A beat of silence passed as everyone processed what had happened. Ryuji’s mouth drops open, but he can’t muster any surprise.

He doesn’t know how, or why, but for some reason his attacks have been at least five times as strong as they had been back before the Metaverse was still intact. Moves that he didn’t even know are on the tip of his tongue, as if he had practiced them all his life. Normally this would only happen after rigorous training for months, adding up in tiny increments.

Now it happens every day.

“Well, looks like someone woke up on the right side of the gym today,” Futaba laughs awkwardly.

“What on earth was that, Skull?” Haru asks, eyes wide. “I had never seen you do something like that.”

Morgana’s tail swished. “She makes a good point. When’d you learn that one?”

“I don’t know.” He calls back Captain Kidd, eyeing the drop that Ante had left behind, but doesn’t move forward to snatch it up. “But whatever the reason is, it’s awesome as hell. I mean, did you see that? Sliced that thing open like a stuffed bear.”

“Let’s not bring stuffed animals into this, please,” Makoto frowns.

Akira’s giving him a look again, and it leaves Ryuji unsettled. “What is it, dude? I got something on my face?”

“No,” he steps closer, and his voice drops. “Are you alright?”

“Am I alright? I’ve never been better, man.” He flashes him a grin, hoping that it’s bright enough to distract Akira’s ever-searching eyes. “Come on, let’s get moving. Natsume’s heart isn’t gonna change itself.”

After one last glance, he nods, and Ryuji can see the minute Calculating Joker comes back. “You heard him. Let’s get moving, everyone.”

They all follow him up the stairs, eager to get moving past the eternally bleary and uncreatively written setting of Natsume’s Jail.

“Psst!” Ryuji hisses at Ann, who turns to him with a question in her eyes. “Panther! Get your ass over here!”

“What?” she whispers back.

He rubs the back of his neck. “I fucked up my knee when I rushed her, and I still haven’t told Joker, so do you mind…?”

An expected look of disapproval emerges from her expression, and Ryuji hurries to beat her to the punch. “I know, I know! But I can’t tell him in the middle of all this, now can I?”

“Fine,” she grumbles before calling Carmen. “I’ll cover you for now, but only ‘cause I’m a good friend and I’m super cute.”

“Yeah, the cutest, prettiest, whatever.” He glances over to Akira, swooping down to grab Ante’s drops before heading up. “Quick, before he looks back.”

Diarama washes over him, and even though relief floods through his body, he can feel a bead of sweat running down his temple. He’s not sure if it’s from her inherent heat or from the stress of lying to her again.

“Better?” Ann asks.

“Way better. Thanks.” He catches Sophia looking at them curiously. “The kid’s watching us. You better move ahead before she starts analyzing our personality types or something.”

Her eyes light up. “You think she’d do it if I asked? I really wanna know.”

“Just go!”

Ann hurries to catch up to Sophia, and while she’s distracted, Ryuji gently rolls up sleeves—he had gotten nicked by Ante as he slid. Normally that wouldn’t have been a problem; he had gotten thrown through walls, been hit by mini hurricanes, been blown up by a boat, and walked away from all that still swinging.

Yet lately, any tiny, fractional, miniscule injury is enough to shoot unbearable pain throughout his entire body. It’s as if he was back in Kamoshida’s Palace, where every punch thrown at him had been life or death.

Glancing down at his forearm, he sighs. The cut was gone, but he can’t keep asking Ann to heal him in secret every time.

“Skull?”

Hurriedly pulling down his sleeve, he glances up to see Akira standing in front of him.

“Everyone’s waiting for you,” he says casually, as if those words don’t mean the entire goddamn world to Ryuji. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” he answers, shaking his head. “My bad. Let’s go.”

They clambered up the staircase, and Ryuji decides that all of that stuff—getting injured and having it hurt like hell—just isn’t too important.

That just means that he’ll be fine as long as he doesn't get hit, and he’s had plenty of experience dodging punches that were thrown at him before.

—

“Cheers!”

All of them raise their red plastic cups, clinking it against each other in a way that they see adults do all the time on TV. Apple juice and iced tea slosh as they gulp it down eagerly, excitement so prevalent that they can hardly taste the cheap, convenience store-esque quality of their drink.

“This isn’t too bad,” Makoto muses, leaning against the faux-leather seats of the RV. “Though it would probably taste better if it wasn’t room temperature.”

“Does it look like this place has a mini fridge?” Futaba says, legs swinging down from her top bunk. “That’s a good idea though. I should’ve bought mine from home. Can you imagine we’re halfway through a six hour road trip and you want iced coffee and boom! Two feet behind you is Futaba’s Ice Cold Cafe, one hundred yen per use.”

“I hope you’d be ready to sleep on it, because this place is cramped enough as is,” Akira slaps the wall a few times, the way a rancher would a sturdy horse. “We’re lucky with what we have.”

“I know that! Without this thing we never would have been able to conquer Natsume’s Jail.” She reaches down to muss Yusuke’s hair. “I’m sure Inari feels good about that.”

He smiles, hair sticking up in all directions. “Of course I feel satisfied. Though I understand his struggle, being able to stop a fellow artist into becoming a true monster is always something that will bring me joy. Justice will never stop feeling good.”

“Cheers to that!” Ann raises her drink. “And you know what? This wouldn’t have been possible had Ryuji not kicked some major ass in that Jail.”

The group whoops and hoots loudly, and Ryuji can’t help but scoff when Ann winks at him. “Aw guys, you’re making me blush. I’m fucking awesome, sure, but we’re all pretty amazing.”

Haru shakes her head. “She’s right, Ryuji-kun. WIthout you, defeating dragon Natsume would’ve been much more difficult.”

“Even I can admit that you’ve gotten much stronger, Skull.” Morgana leaps onto the table, licking up the bowl of apple juice that Haru had left him. It feels wrong to let an animal drink that, but he’d never say anything about it. “Have you been training?”

Ryuji shrugs. “Yeah, a little.”

“Ooo, look at Mr. Humble all of a sudden,” Futaba jeers.

“I’m always humble!”

Ann grimaces. “I don’t think so. Remember when you finally got Akira to go on a date with you—”

“How dare you. He was begging me to go on a date with him—”

“And you wouldn’t stop telling us about how you had nabbed the coolest guy in Tokyo—”

Ryuji nearly jumps over the booth to put a hand on her mouth. “Quit yammering, Takamaki, I’m begging you.” He feels something slimy on his hand, and pulls back quickly. “Ew, did you lick me?! That’s so effing gross.”

“You’re gross.”

He feels a hand on the small of his back, warm and familiar. “I don’t think you’re gross, Ryuji,” Akira says. “I think you’re very clean.”

A harmonic beep rings through the air. “Sorry to interrupt,” Sophia’s clear voice cuts in. “But Akira, you got an email.”

“Thanks Sophie.” He points to where his phone is perched on the windowsill, propped up so she can see them celebrate their victory. “Can you…?”

Ryuji wordlessly passes it to him as everyone breaks off into smaller conversations, chatter blending into each other until it sounds like the kind of white noise he would queue up when he’s desperate to get some studying done. Immediately, Akira begins scanning through his phone, gray eyes focused.

He props his head against his shoulder to read alongside him and makes a noise of interest. “You signed up for cram school?” he asks, surprised.

“I did,” he replies, thumbing through the details of his admission.

Ryuji stares at him. “But you’re so fucking smart. Why are you paying who knows what to learn shit you already know?”

“Because Tokyo U barely cracks a 30% admission rate, and chemistry is hell incarnate.” With one last few clicks, he sets his phone down with a wince. “Sure is expensive though. We might have to reform the heart of someone in the education committee.” When he continues to stare at him wordlessly, Akira turns to him. “Don’t worry, I’m still leeching off of the Thieves' money from last year, so it’s not too bad when you take into account my part-time back home.”

“No, that’s not—I’m just—” he shakes his head and forces himself to start over. “Since when did you decide on Tokyo University?”

It’s Akira's turn to look taken aback. “What do you mean? You’d never leave Tokyo, especially if it meant leaving your mom.”

“That’s not the point. The point is I’m making you choose between me and your hometown!” he exclaims, but he already knows in his heart what Akira’s choice is going to be. It’s stupidly obvious. For some reason, the longer this conversation goes on, the tighter his chest feels.

The feeling doubles when Akira’s eyes, always focused and always sharp, subdued at his words. “Are you really comparing yourself to that place? You know I’d choose you over anything.” He reaches forward and combs through Ryuji’s hair, hushed and gentle in a way that only Akira can manage. “I’m so excited to live life with you again.”

The white noise, so comfortable before, abruptly turns overwhelmingly loud���grating and unbearable and painful to be around. Ryuji stands abruptly, barely reacting to Futaba’s yelp when he backs into her.

“Hey! What gives?”

“I…” his eyes dart around, flinching when he accidentally makes eye contact with Akira, and again when he locks eyes with Ann.

The sudden silence from the group is somehow worse than the noise from before, and if the tightness in his chest gets any more painful, his lungs are gonna burst into a million pieces and he’s not gonna be able to pick it all up from the ground if everyone’s watching.

“Trash,” he blurts out.

“What?” Makoto blinks, glancing up from her map.

“This place is disgusting and it’s way too cluttered and it’s bad to leave such a big mess so I’m gonna—” Ryuji grabs the plastic bag filled with garbage, haphazardly tossing empty cans and plastic cups into it. “I’ll be back. Don’t wait up.”

Before they can question him, he’s already out of the RV, towing trash and leaving his friends behind him.

—

“What the fuck was that?!” Ryuji screams into the sky.

He was far enough from the trailer that he knew they couldn’t hear him even if they had strained their ears, and it was late enough into the night that even the tourists weren’t poking around to look at the shrines or the Great Masamune himself.

“Keep it a secret’, my ass! That was the second dumbest thing—no, the third dumbest thing you’ve ever done in your entire life. Do you know how high that threshold is, Sakamoto? High! Higher than you can see with your own two eyes! Higher than Yaldabaoth’s goddamn crane-sized spine!”

Swooping down, he grabs a fistful of pebbles and throws it as hard as he can. “You are so selfish! What happened to keeping ‘Kira happy, you effing asshole?” Relishing in how far it went, he takes another two more. “You are so annoying. You are—” he throws, the rocks landing with a little plink. “Insufferable. Stupid. Selfish. A fucking—” this time, he doesn’t even know where it lands. “Gah!”

Turning on his heel, he glares up at the statue and grits his teeth when he sees Masamune’s stoic expression. “Don’t give me that look—you’re dead. You ain’t got nothing to complain about. Everyone’s remembering you as the guy who saved Japan, or whatever. But guess what? You’re probably a loser. A dumb, stupid loser who convinced everyone that you’re good for something when you’re worth jack shit!”

Before he can stop himself, he takes the garbage bag full of cans, glass bottles, and crumpled chip bags and hurls it at Masamune. It hits the base of the statue, far below damaging the One-Eyed Dragon himself, but the glass cracks under the force of being thrown, tearing through the plastic and causing trash and shards to explode all over the steps. Ryuji’s chest is heaving as he stares down at what he’s done.

“Impressive.”

He whirls around at the voice behind him, stomach lurching straight to the ground when he sees who it was. “In his years of war, I doubt that anyone’s ever tried throwing waste in his direction in order to defeat him.”

“Yusuke,” he breathes, feeling his frustration draining away to make room for even more guilt, if that was even possible. Ryuji cannot possibly look any more of an asshole than he does right now—tearing his throat raw in a public space, surrounded by the garbage he had thrown at a national monument in front of a guy who clearly worships and respects art that’s old as hell. “Sorry, I’ll clean it up, I promise. I was just…” he hesitates. “Talking to myself.”

Yusuke hums, unconvinced, and carefully approaches the mess in front of him. Ryuji waves him off. “No, don’t. Broken glass is a bitch, especially the little pieces. If that gets in your skin, it’s game over. You’d have to go into the hospital for sure.” He grimaces. “Trust me. My dad used to throw beer bottles at our place like he was in a ball game, and that ain’t fun, I promise you that.”

“I see.” Turning around, Ryuji hoped that he was magically going to head back to the group and not mention this to anyone there, but instead Yusuke stopped in front of a water fountain. “You’re right. If you’re not careful, it could be very easy to hurt yourself when dealing with broken glass.” Pulling out a handkerchief from his breast pocket in a way that only Yusuke can, he soaks it in water before crouching down at the shards glimmering under moonlight. “But if you use wet fabric to dab it on the shards itself—” he pats the concrete and flips the fabric over, revealing the moist and glistening pieces stuck on its side. “You can clean up the pieces with little to no danger.”

“Huh.” After a moment, he realizes that he’s making Yusuke do the dirty work for him. “Pass me that. Thanks for the tip, but I can take it from here. I mean,” he rubs the back of his neck. “It’s totally my fault that the glass is here anyway.”

He doesn’t look up from his task, eyes focused and movement meticulous. “No need. If you’d like to help, you can start picking up the non-dangerous litter around us.”

Ryuji does as he’s told, wincing as he has to pick up sticky, pop-soaked wrappers with his bare hands but he doesn’t complain. Karmic retribution has never held back against him. “The glass thing,” he starts, squatting down and picking up empty cans and plastic utensils with curry remnants still stuck to them. “They teach you that in Kosei?”

“No, from one of Madarame’s past pupils actually.” Yusuke shifts over to dab at another glass-covered section, concrete looking clearer with every pat. “Sensei had a rather violent habit of hurling canvases at the wall if they do not meet his standards, and his actions had led to many of our more fragile belongings being shattered when he did.” His tone doesn’t change, but Ryuji can see his shoulders tighten. “At least it allowed me to move away from that house very quickly, considering I had very little to pack away.”

Ryuji opens his mouth to comfort him. Instead, he finds himself speaking in a low tone. “Glad that bastard is rotting in jail,” he resists the urge to spit on the ground. “Then afterwards, I hope he rots in hell, just to really cover all of our bases.”

That pulls a chuckle out of Yusuke. “Thank you,” he smiles, and all Ryuji can do is nod. There isn’t much you can say after that without making it weird. But how weirder can it possibly get when the two of you are off towing around someone’s perception of the world on a daily basis?

They continue to work in silence; the wind is gentle, but it’s enough to rustle the leaves and allow Ryuji to feel some relief from the summer heat. He’s picking up wet paper tissues, and it’s gross, but it’s nice to be doing something with his hands.

He’s just about done his part of the clean-up when he can’t take it anymore. “Aren’t you gonna ask?”

“No,” Yusuke answers without looking up. That’s another thing that Ryuji really appreciates about him—playing dumb has never been something that he’s done to get out of an awkward situation. To be fair though, Yusuke himself is an awkward situation.

“Why not?”

“Did you want me to?”

That question makes him pause, and Yusuke doesn’t wait for an answer. “You’ve always been the most vocal in the group, and while many a time it has been our downfall in terms of secrecy, I have always considered it one of your strong points. And if you, Sakamoto Ryuji, are indeed struggling with using your words,” Yusuke’s eyes turn to him. “Then it must be very difficult to talk about.”

A beat passes. “No,” Ryuji mutters. “I don’t want you to ask.”

“Then I won’t,” he says easily. “But I do have a question.”

“Lay it on me.”

Yusuke shuffles to crouch down next to him, and it’s kinda weird seeing someone as elegant as him pose like some kind of hoodlum. “Does Akira know about your struggle?”

His mind flashes back to the confused look back in the RV and he scratches his neck roughly. “I bet he does now.”

Yusuke leans back, shocked. “He doesn’t know?”

“I’m getting there! Don’t pressure me, man. You said it yourself, I’m fucking struggling.”

“Well, yes, I did say that, but it’s Akira,” he says the name almost reverently. “I’d be surprised if he doesn’t sense that something is askew.”

“I just said that, didn’t I? Goddamn, you and Ann are just two of the same peas in the same freaking pond, aren’t you?”

“It’s ‘pod’, Ryuji,” he corrects. “Ann is aware?”

“She—” Ugh, how does he explain that she thinks she knows, but really he had lied about what he told her? “She basically knows.” And because his fat mouth just keeps getting fatter, “She’s sort of part of the problem.”

Yusuke’s eyes widen and Ryuji hurries to cover up for his mistake. “She’s not a problem, it’s just that I didn’t explain…It’s really my fault, and how I deal with internal shit, you know what I’m saying? And Ann’s just kind of in the crossfire, so what ended up happening is when I talk to her about what I’m feeling, I end up just feeling worse.” He winces. First he lies to her and now he’s shit-talking her? “I did not say that. What I really mean is that, uh, feelings...and actions...are complicated,” he finishes weakly.

“I see,” he says finally.

It seems that even Yusuke has a threshold for uncomfortable moments, because he rises to his feet. “Thank you for sharing all of that with me.”

“Uh, yeah, for sure. Thanks for the glass trick.”

“No need to mention it. It’s much easier to clean up a mess when you have someone helping you.” He points vaguely behind himself, “Would you like to head back together? I’m sure by now the festivities are winding down, and the trash you were so keen on disposing of has definitely been thrown away.”

Ryuji blanches. It grossed him out that he forgot he was holding an armful of garbage in his hand. “You go ahead. I just need to,” he rocks his arms, almost cradling the wet garbage. “Throw this out.”

“Very well. I’ll see you when you get back, then.”

He waves at him, and Ryuji wiggles in response (unless he wants it all hitting the ground and restarting that whole process again, which, no thanks.) After dumping it all into a nearby trash can, the process of which lasts several minutes since he still had to sort out the recycling, he feels a buzz in his pocket.

KA: come back when you can KA: i miss you

He takes a shaky breath.

SR: on my way

[vannahfanfics]

congrats vannah!!! your lists were amazing and it seems like so much effort, im so proud of you! could i please get aizawa and white please? thank you!

Hey! Thank you so much for requesting for the event, and I’m sorry it took so long! Medical school was very tough for me, so I ended up putting requests on the backburner for a very long time… But finally, it’s here! White symbolizes hospitals, death, and sadness, so… I’m sorry to inflict this upon you, but here’s Aizawa in the wake of the war with the Paranormal Liberation Front. Spoilers for the recent manga chapters!

Drinks on Me

“Hey, this weekend, let’s all go out and get drinks on me!” Nemuri smiled prettily, her long legs crossed as she swiveled back and forth in her chair across from Shota. “It’s been so long since we’ve all been out together. You never know, it could be our last chance!” she grinned while sticking out her tongue and winking playfully. She always said things like that, portents of doom and gloom hidden behind a winning smile, to rope Shota into joining her and Hizashi at clubs and bars. 

He should have regarded those for what they really were— omens. 

Shota jerked awake, snorting as his muscles spasmed. He laid there for a moment as he clumsily acclimated to the waking world, staring blearily at the ceiling fan spinning slowly above his head. When he finally realized that he was in bed, he exhaled deeply and reached up to rub his eyes with the heels of his palms. In the midst of his fitful sleep, he’d kicked the sheets off himself; the layer of nervous sweat on his skin absorbed the cold wind pushed down by the fan, coating him in a chill. Too exhausted to even bother pulling the covers back over himself, he flopped his arm back down to stare listlessly at the ceiling. 

The stump where his leg used to be throbbed painfully, almost as if it were aware he was awake now. He still hadn’t accustomed to the loss of his limb, nor the phantom pains plaguing his nervous system. Even now, he found himself groping for his calf, trying to ease the ache; but he couldn’t massage empty air, so it continued to burn dully, seeping down all the way into his sawed bone. 

Groaning, he pulled himself up into a sitting position, grasping the headboard as he hauled himself up. The rest of his body had endured a beating as well, making pain thrum through his nerves to shoot to his spine. He winced and grasped his shoulder, massaging the inflamed flesh until it quieted. He felt like an old man, much older than he ought to— tired, achy, defeated. He inhaled deeply, gathering the will to put on his prosthetic leg. His muscles tweaked in protest as he did, but as he gradually woke up his body and fastened the prosthetic to the stump below his knee, the pain faded into the background. 

He limped across his room to his closet, stumbling a little and using the dresser to catch himself. He hadn’t mastered navigating with his new leg, either. He took a moment to catch his breath, sweat already blooming on his clammy forehead, before tottering his way to the closet. He couldn’t tolerate dressing normally— not that he had impeccable fashion sense anyway— so he eased himself into a pair of black sweats and a gray tee and some sneakers. He tied his hair in a loose bun before shambling out the door. 

The dorm was alive with activity, but not the normal kind that Shota had become accustomed to. The air hummed with nervous energy as the students— and their parents, who were moving in to keep them safe— flitted about. Most of his pupils still sported injuries from the massive battle several days ago, bandages peeking out from beneath their clothes. But the worst injuries were the ones you couldn’t see, the ones on their hearts still oozing blood and bursting through the stitches at the slightest insult. They would be scars someday, an afterthought until the phantom pains struck when they least expected it. 

Theirs would, but not Shota’s. No, Shota’s inner wounds never really healed— and this newest one definitely would bleed for the rest of his life. 

A few of them greeted Shota quietly as he limped down the hall heading for the front door. Momo came up to him, asking if she could help him with anything— she had always been such a considerate girl, that one. He smiled and ruffled her poofy black hair, telling her that he was quite all right but thanks anyway. Shota could sure use some help, but there was no aid that any of his students could provide for him. He could feel Momo’s watery eyes boring into his back as he toddled out of the building. 

There were so many things that people took for granted every day. The ability to walk down steps without falling flat on your ass was one of them. Shota grimaced as he inched down the steps of the dorm, holding out one arm to seek purchase though there was nothing to grip onto. Somehow, he made it down to the sidewalk without eating shit, but the effort still left sweat beading in the crease lines of his forehead. He blew an irritated breath through his lips and raked his hand over his wavy black hair, taking a moment to let the pain pass before moving on. 

Though this region of the city had been spared the carnage of the war with the Paranormal Liberation Front, its effects reached even the city around U.A. There weren’t nearly as many people on the street; Shota was alone most of his commute to the business district, save for the occasional person rushing down the street with suspicious eyes and fearful breaths. Shota could feel eyes on him everywhere, though; nervous onlookers peering out their curtains and blinds, suspicious of everyone in sight. They were all waiting for the inevitable pin to drop, for the next piece in this godawful chess game to move and tell them their next poor fortune. Things would get worse before they got better; everyone knew it, the hapless civilians most of all. Their hope in heroes was teetering on the edge of a knife; if they strayed but a little, everything would fall into ruin. 

Many small business owners had closed up shop to skip town, but the liquor store was still open. A pleasant bell chimed as Shota opened the door. The cashier apparently still wasn’t getting much business, as he leaned back in a chair with his feet propped up on the counter, reading the newspaper. As Shota began to walk through the aisles searching for a particular brand of rum, the cashier decided that apparently the news was too dismal to read because he crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash bin. 

“Warmongers, the lot of them journalists,” he spat at Shota, who raised his eyebrows at him over the top of the rum bottles he was surveying. “All they’re doin’ is makin’ things worse.” 

“Do you have faith in heroes?” Shota asked and looked back down, fingers skimming over the glass bottles emblazoned with coconut trees and beach zines. He smirked when the old cashier snorted derisively. 

“Sonny, I been around a long time. This ain’t the first time some upstart has whipped everyone up in a frenzy. The heroes always come out on top because that’s what they do.” 

“That’s some unshakable faith you have there,” Shota remarked while plucking his chosen bottle from the rack. He rounded the rack while the cashier hopped up from his chair so he could check Shota out. 

“Eh, it comes with age. Nothing rattles ya anymore,” he shrugged, grabbing the bottle to scan it. He put it in a brown paper bag and punched a few of the keys into the cash register. “O’course, a little liquid courage always helps, eh?” he added with a wink. Shota smirked at that, sliding over his credit card. He took the bottle by the neck, crinkling the paper around it. 

“Thanks for the advice. Do I need to pay you for that too?” Shota joked. 

“Nah, it’s on me this time,” the man responded with a chortle, sliding Shota’s card back. Shota took it and slid it back into his wallet, then bid him a good night. When he walked out, the sun had risen into the sky and was blessing the earth with its warm rays. Yet they didn’t kiss Shota’s skin; a lingering chill wafted around him, blocking out all the warmth to leave him cold. Eventually, he’d feel the sun again, he knew that— but he had a while to go. 

It was a short walk to the graveyard. The iron was hot under his fingers as he pushed the unlocked gate open, and it creaked loudly as if to protest. The small gravel marking the winding, meandering path through the various headstones crunched under his feet as he made his way down, counting the rows. At row seven, he turned and walked down until he found a clean headstone above a freshly-turned patch of dirt, a rectangle the size of a person. 

Sighing, Shota eased himself down onto his knees, his prosthetic leg stretching out beside him— it was easier on his hip that way. He pulled the brown paper bag off the bottle of rum and then broke the faux gold foil seal. He stared down at it a second, just stared, and then exhaled quietly. 

“Hey, Nem,” he murmured. He reached up with his free hand to stroke the top of the stone, which was warmed by the bright spring sun. He fell silent again, throat bobbing as the emotions he’d been surprising for days welled up inside of him. The tears bubbled up and spilled over his eyes, carving through the layer of nightsweat and grime coating his unwashed face to bead in his beard. “I miss you, Nem,” he said finally, voice cracking. “So much.” 

His hand shook as it continued to run over the unblemished stone, down over the carved letters reading Kayama Nemuri. He leaned forward to press his forehead against the rock, closing his eyes and squeezing out more of the salty tears. “I never did take you up on that offer for drinks,” he said with a wan smile despite the despair tearing his heart apart. “So I brought you your favorite, on me.” He leaned back, then lifted the bottle to spill the alcohol over the gravestone. The light gray rock darkened as the clear liquid gushed over it, spilling over the smooth surface in rivers. It streamed down to soak into the grass at its base, soaking up the earth down, down, down to Nemuri’s casket six feet under. Shota didn’t drink a drop of the rum; he poured every bit of it over her gravemarker for her to enjoy. 

He sat there for a while, even after the hot sun had begun to evaporate the alcohol absorbed by the porous stone. Somehow, sitting there watching the color fade back to normal was cathartic. Like Nemuri was there, enjoying that rum. He could see the smile playing over her lips as she stirred a straw around a piña colada— and that’s when Shota felt the kiss of the sun, warming up his skin. He looked up to squint at the bubbling circle in the sky, then back down at the gravestone. Smirking, he patted the slightly damp rock before using it as leverage to push himself up. 

“Thanks, Nem. I’ll be back sometime, with drinks on me, of course,” he chuckled. He couldn’t linger here all day; he had work to do. Some upstart was out there whipping everyone up in a frenzy, and it was up to the heroes to bring him to justice. When they did, Shota would be sure to bring Nemuri a whole liquor store’s worth of rum— on him, of course. 

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[cinnamonswirlbfs]

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[undinoble]

Crazy long text ahead i warn you, just explaining some process I went through while drawing this Frank and Julie low light dying thingie, probably gonna drop some wips along the way, you may want to see… idk, dealer’s choice

!TRIGGER WARNING! Violence, death, suicide. Proceed with caution.

Well where do we begin? The inspiration maybe?

Exploring the magical world of Spotify when a band came in, one of the first songs (if not the first one) of theirs I heard was Partners in Crime by Set It Off, you know, love at first sight, love for their voices, their music style, aaand the lyrics, OH BOI the lyrics, check it out:

“You’ll never takes us alive We swore that death will do us part They’ll call our crimes a work of art You’ll never takes us alive We’ll live like spoiled royalty, lovers and partners”

Dunno, for two passionate juvenil delinquents that just wants trouble this line really fits to me, the dreamy couple feels invencible.

“Everybody freeze Nobody move Put the money in the bag Or we will shoot Empty out the vault And me and my doll will be on our way”

It’s actually interesting to think of the Legion robbing a bank, it’s not like troublesome teens didn’t do that in movies c’mon, it’s a small city, they wear masks, ez!

“Our paper faces flood the streets And if the heat comes close enough to burn Then we’ll play with fire ‘cause

You’ll never takes us alive”

THIS. This is so a Legion thing to say. Can you imagine their masks all around the streets as a warning like “HEY, WE ARE HERE, FEAR US” I love this

“Here we find our omnipotent outlaws Fall behind the grind tonight Left unaware that the lone store owner Won’t go down without a fight Where we gonna go He’s got us pinned Baby I’m a little scared Now, don’t you quit He’s sounded the alarm I hear the sirens closing in”

The second big moment, the adrenaline along with the instrumental is crazy for real

“The skies are black with lead-filled rain A morbid painting on display This is the night the young love died Buried at each others side”

THIS. (again) is the main theme of the drawing, it’s where the inspiration flood over me, the scene was clear in my mind, c’mon if you read till here there’s absolutely no reason not to listen to the song you won’t regret im not even getting payed to show it off

ACTUALLY FORGET IT- i just won a sub on Cody Carson’s stream WHAT IS LIFE??????? Thanks Max!!!

I totally didn’t draw this while listening to the music when i should be working what are you talking about??

Hold the sketch, focus on the gun. It’s dope aint it?

Anyways, here goes the lore, along with the music lyrics I filled up the gaps, well, Suz and Joey are not around, maybe doing school stuff Julie didn’t feel like doing so she decides to hang out with Frank in the meanwhile, they’re on the lodge, bored, upset about the world cause it’s what teens do in their free time, listening to one of their mixtapes, probably Frank’s, the more hardcore one when the idea hit: what if they try some good mischief? “There’s a small banks a mile from here, want some adrenaline babe?” And oh of course she does, grab your mask, here we go

Sorry, not a big legs-drawing fan…

They grab their knives, put on the masks, get ready, drive to the bank. I didnt really think this part through, the song says it all. Long story short - they rob the bank, the police arrives, the action begins.

They brought their knives, didn’t expect the cops to show up with guns, damn they didnt even know little Ormond cops had actual guns. After long minutes of hiding on the bank safe the couple decides to fight their way out, they would be more useful alive than dead so laws could apply, but that went out of question once Frank stabbed the first bank employee on his triumphal way out, the police don’t think twice before shooting to protect the citizens inside.

Frank and Julie have too little time to react, the stress and anxiety kicks in, they go feral, crazy cinematic bullet avoids, for a moment it’s possible to get away. It all happened too quick, but in Julie’s vision it went slow motion. She just saw a cop leaning behind a car, aiming directly at Frank, even her fastest reaction wasn’t fast enough to stop the trigger from popping. With tears in her eyes she watches as the bullet hits her boyfriend right in the chest. 

She snaps. One target in mind, she sprints to the cop and stabs him over and over until she’s sure he won’t see the sun set ever again. She takes his gun and rushes towards Frank who is kneeling against a taxi holding his torax, she screams that they must go to the hospital immediately but he refuses, hospital would be just a quick stop on his way to jail. No fucking way. 

He demands to go back to the lodge, the cops are too busy helping their wounded partner to look for them, they think Frank may be dropped dead somewhere on the street after multiple shots, the two of them must flee before the cops realize the mistake and go hunting for them. NOW.

Julie side-carries Frank back to their car, the lack of a license of her own won’t stop her from driving as fast as the car can. Breathing heavily while constantly telling Frank to hold on, they will find a way out, they must do. Oh what a fucking stupid idea holy SHIT. 

The travel takes half the time it usually does and still feels like hours. The car gets all red with Frank’s blood that keeps leaking. Once they arrive, Frank wants to go upstair, Julie shouts at him to keep next the central campfire once he should grab some heat (and for god’s sake why is he still carrying the money bag they stole????), anyway he gets the last word and they climb the stairs up and lay on the bed, Frank hisses from the pain but also sighs in relief for the soft spot under him, ignoring Julie cursing besides him, saying she can still call an ambulance, she doesnt want to lose him, Suz and Joey will be devastated, although he just replies with the phrase they were saying sooner that day “They’ll never take us alive”.

After 20 minutes of agony, low whispers of memories of how they met, what they had been through together and a huge amount of blood moisturing the covers, Frank says he’s feeling light-headed, Julie looks at him and he’s paper white, the blood loss is finally getting to him, she wants to cry, scream, curse and stab that damn cop a hundred times again, but all she does is cuddle her head harder against his shoulder and tell him she loves him, that she will keep his legacy alive, with Joey and Susie, she will revenge him. He chuckles and slowly feels the life being drained from his weaked body until everything goes black.

Julie need a few seconds to process. Frank died. For real. He was good a few hours ago, he was right. They would never take them alive. Death could do them apart, but, he never said for how long they would be apart.

She reaches for the gun on the hand under Frank’s body. THAT DAMN GUN. She aims it to the side of her head, never leaving Frank’s side on the bed. Triggers it.

“Partners in crime”

Damn did I just write a fucking fanfiction? This shit is way longer than I expected, did anybody even get down here?

Well, this is the part of the drawing where i left cause I just couldn’t afford to work on it, have in mind everytime the file were opened the whole lore came in my head, and fuck did i feel dizzy writing it all down. Hell the bloody details get me, seeing Frank so white with a blue undertone simulating the lifeless body gave me headaches fr. My escape was drawing other things until the courage to finish it came back. It was easier because the story kinda faded away from my mind, the drawing became “lighter” to deal with.

Well, guess that’s it. I hardly have this big insight while drawing, to visualize the finished piece on my brain and it’s just so fucking cool, making art with so many mixed feelings along, and overall pride, cause i feel so proud with the result you have no idea. It isn’t perfect tho, but i like it anyway. So, thank you so much if you made it all the way here. gonna sleep now for fucks sake im gonna pass out bye

[lackingspace]

Tender Sugar (Bo Sinclair)

Rated: EXPLICIT

Word Count: 3.4k 

Warnings: Not reader, Name used, Suggestive language and themes, explicit dirty talk, humiliation, degradation, spanking, fingering, uhh kinda like pseudo-exhibition kink, squirting, hmm Im sure theres something else I forgot 

Author Note: Ok, this is a super special piece for @yourlocalslasher​. It was her B-day yesterday and well, she loves Bo just as much as me, so I HAD to write her something. So again, NOT A READER- used a name, but its not heavy-handed. Anyways, hope you enjoy it! 

You’d finished breakfast and went to Bo’s truck without a second thought. Hadn’t seemed like there was anything else to discuss after giving Vincent a reminder to bring some snacks with him to the basement, but the look on Bo’s face screamed that something must have happened after you'd left the room. 

"Everything okay there?" He didn’t even grace you with a look before he said, "Right as rain, Sugar" his grip on the steering wheel said different- just little too tight, too much force when shifting gears, "Right as rain." He was such a liar.

But you let it go. Nothing good ever came from pushin Bo when Bo didn’t offer up an argument. Usually boded better if you let him come to whatever conclusion he wanted first and then wait for him to initiate. So you had no intention of straying away from your tried and true method. Just had to wait it out.

And it paid off. Fuck, had it paid off. 

You’d decided to spend the day with Bo at the station on a whim, not like you had much else to do today- besides it’d been quiet for a while now. Bo’d made the offer to teach you about engines earlier that week. Learning was always good and it occupied your time, so why not? Can’t say you had a huge interest in mechanics, but maybe it’d come in handy one day, who knew. You’d always heard learning how to change a flat was important, but no one had ever offered, so you’d never learned. Maybe now you had that chance.

But you didn’t want to make the ask if your boyfriend’s mood was veiled in annoyance. You’d give him space to cool off, but you didn’t really need to worry. When he pulled up outside the station and got out you watched him move towards the back of the truck before turning to open your door. Having to fight with the latch for any small amount of give, after a minute you were finally free. 

Once you had the door open and looked up Bo was standing there with a raised brow, “Havin some trouble there, Sugar?” You gave him a flat look, “I’m tellin you this side needs some WD-40, it sticks.” He leaned in and gripped your waist to lift you out of the truck while rolling his eyes, “Sticks my ass, opens just fine for me.” 

You huffed as your feet hit the ground, “Yeah, says the man with muscles. I don’t have that advantage you brute.” He looked down at you with a smirk, “Well, it’s a good thing these muscles will be around a long while to help my little princess out.” The slight flush it caused was instantaneous and you felt it in your face and in your chest. He was definitely annoyed before, but now he was being sweet? Something was definitely up, so you ignored his comment in favor of turning around to head into the shop. 

Before you could take more than a step away, his hand was snaking down an arm to grip around your wrist. Tugging you back only to spin you around before he boxed you in against the door, "Now, where do you think you’re scurrying off to so quick, sugar?" He gripped your chin surprisingly gently, something that was rare for him, and tilted it up so you locked eyes, “It ain’t right to ignore a man when he’s declaring his devotion. Mighty rude to just walk away don’t you think?" You would have answered, you had some words to say that a man shouldn’t tease so early this side of the sun, but the hand that had been resting on your hip had slithered around to fondle your backside. 

Of course Bo would use this to get his hands on you. It wasn’t that you didn’t want them on you, it was just that he’d done it so unexpected and you were still wary of the attitude change. It wasn’t that you were afraid, far from it- just had you on edge because it meant he had something planned and shocking you was a favorite past time of his. Hopefully this shock was a good one.

"That silence ain’t helpin any, Luce." His grip on your ass turned rougher which finally knocked you back to reality, "Bo! It’s barely 10 in the mornin and you’re already copin a feel?!" His hand only got more aggressive in his fondling, "You really complainin ‘bout that?” Ok, he had you there, unable to really deny it you flushed further and narrowed your eyes at him, “can’t help that this ass was made for the palm of my hand," he gave you a slight smack, nothing too hard, but had heat flash through you and settle between your legs, “Love the way it bounces when you take a spankin…or my cock” That had you groaning and looking away, couldn’t take the eye contact when he talked like that.

Only that provided him the opportunity he needed to lean down and nuzzle your throat. A few kisses were placed here and there which had your pulse pick up and the heat between your legs worsen. He nipped at your ear before whispering, "Besides, I reckon it deserves a good spanking today. Turn it a cute red to match that blushin face.” The thrill that shot down your spine had your senses buzzing. Your nipples starting to pebble between his words and his mouthing at your throat, "w-what?" 

He was too busy making sure love bites would be visible on your throat for the next few days to answer. Groaning from the treatment you tried again, "Bo, what?" Again, silence as his mouth littered kisses and hickies along your pulse, "Why do you wanna give me spankings today, Daddy? What’d I do?" Now that got a response. Bo loved when you played the daddy card. You wanted something and he was being unresponsive? 9 times out of 10 if you dropped that name on him he’d hear you out- if nothing else it always sent his arousal from 0 to 100 and horny Bo was easier to get to talk than angry Bo. It was especially effective if you whined and begged for him. 

He pulled back to answer your confusion, "See, sugar, learned something interesting from Vinny just before we left." His hands were back to kneading from your hips down to your ass, "Oh? What was that?" He tilted his head and you could see the mischievousness in his eyes- a certain twinkle, decidedly not angry, thank god for that, “Seems someone told my brother it was their birthday and never mentioned it to Daddy.” Oh fuck, you’d completely forgotten! You’d meant to tell him last week when you heard the date on the radio down in the basement with Vincent. You were helping him clean up down there while he was going about his business and the radio announcer had shouted the date, you’d perked up and told Vincent, but by supper time rolling around you’d completely forgotten. It wasn’t like you stared down the date here. Sometimes you actually forgot what month it was let alone the week or day. 

Shit, maybe you wanted angry Bo because that look he’d given you spoke of edging and you weren’t sure if you could take it this early in the day. Panicked you tried to hastily explain, “Bo, I completely forgot! I meant to tell you last week, but it slipped my mind!” You were going to add more on, more explanation, more begging for him not to be too harsh on you, to not edge you within an inch of your life, but he was already tugging you along to the back of his truck while cutting you off, “You don’t gotta explain there, birthday girl. I get it you’re just more fond of my brother than your boyfriend. I see how it is.” 

The tailgate was already down, when had he done that? Must have been when you were struggling with the damn door. You tried to respond as quick as you could, “Bo! That’s not true! You know you’re my number one. You’re the one I wanna curl up with at night.” He gave you a hum as if he was contemplating it while rubbing a hand soothingly down your arm, but what he said had your insides clenching and your nerves shoot up, “Take those pants off for me.” 

Your throat went dry as you registered what he wanted- and your nipples were achingly hard scratching against your bra, “W-what?” He smacked your ass again, this time harder than before, “Did I stutter, Sugar? You heard me.” You had...But here? It was so open...what if Vincent or Lester were wondering around town...or worse if some tourists were lured in, “B-but Bo, its...we’re in public…” That earned you another swat, “I don’t rightly care, pants off now, Lucie. Before Daddy changes his mind and you won’t like it.” 

You couldn’t lie, the demand and idea had you hot enough that you could feel how wet you were. Not drenched, but definitely on the way there, hopefully he’d take care of it soon and wouldn’t make you beg too much. Ever so slowly you reached down to unbutton your pants and drag them down your legs. As you were doing that he’d maneuvered to hop up on the tailgate and sit at the edge to watch you strip, “Panties too, Lucie.” A fresh wave of heat pulsed through you at the way he said your name and the fact you’d be in the middle of town with your wet pussy out on display. 

You went to grab your shirt to lift because why wouldn’t he want that too? But he stopped you, “Nah, keep that on for me. Like the way your tits look in it.” With a red face, you put your hands behind your back waiting for what he wanted you to do next. After a few moments of him raking his eyes up and down- tilting his head when he looked to your wet center before he smirked and said, “Get your sweet little ass up here, Sugar. Lay across daddy’s lap.” With a gulp, you climbed up and settled over his lap. Thank god he’d had you keep your shirt on because your breast would have ached against the cold metal- your knees certainly were.

You felt him smooth a hand down your ass, gripping a cheek and then the other before sliding down to your dripping core, “Already so wet for me, Lucie, and I’ve barely done anything.” He speared a finger down through your wet folds, “So needy for Daddy even here out in public, where anyone could see.” You groaned into your arms and tried to squeeze your thighs together for friction, but he wasn’t having it. With a slap to one of your cheeks he said, “uh ah, Daddy didn’t give you permission for that.” 

Eyes shutting at the delicious sting that slap had sent through you before you let out a deep breath as he soothed the area, “You’re such a little whore for me, Lucie. Look at you,” He gave another spank a little harder than before and soothed the area as you groaned, “Ass and pussy out, drippin down your thighs. Anyone could look out a window or walk by and you’d still push that ass up in the air for me, huh? Needy slut like you don’t care who sees, do ya?” Oh, he wanted to play up the public angle like there were really people in town watching. Fuck, that did something to your brain- sent tingles down your spine and a fire through your veins. 

Pushing your ass back into his hand just like he’d said, you whined, “You’re right, always want you to play with me. Don’t matter where.” You felt his cock twitch against your stomach as he chuckled, “There’s my cute little cockslut...bein all nasty desperate for it when that good Christian lady could be lookin out her window across the street.” He tapped your cheek as he said, “Would give her a heart attack seen this tight little ass taking a good spanking before breakfast.” A finger trailed back between your pussy lips, “Might even let em watch how good this pussy can swallow up my cock too.” You groaned because god damn was this man lethal, but all these light touches and love taps were driving you insane. 

You needed him making your ass red or fucking that hard-on you could feel deep into your wet cunt in the next five minutes or you might just spontaneously combust, “Bo...Daddy, please, please! I need something- Spank me, finger me, fuck me...Whichever I just need it! Please! I’m so achy and empty...” You heard his smug laugh, “Beggin already princess? But damn it sounds so pretty out those lips of yours.” You made another whine when all he did was roughly grip the flesh of your ass, but nothing else, “How old ya turning, Sugar?” So you mumbled out your age and he tapped your ass, “Think we’ll add on a few more after that for good luck. I won’t make ya count them, birthday girl privileges and all that. Just enjoy it, babe.”

And goddamn did you enjoy it. The sound of his palm meeting your flesh rang out in the area, Vinny or Lester would definitely hear if they were around town- no way they couldn’t hear. The sting of his slaps were delicious and he rained them down all over. Some a little higher, some lower, even on the backs of your thighs. You could feel how hot your flesh was from the treatment and all you could manage was to sob out in pleasure as you begged him for more. “That’s it, Lucie, takin it like a good little whore for me.” 

Another rough smack low near your thighs had please rolling off your tongue, “Look at that fucking jiggle, all nice and red for me too. You gonna feel this for a good week.” with a few more quick and heavy-handed slaps he finally cooed at you while soothing the area, but all it did was make you needier with how sensitive you were, “Thinkin you deserve a little treat after takin it like such a good girl for me.” he cupped your sex as you cried and squirmed in his lap, “want my fingers or my cock in this drippin little hole?” you felt your clit pulse at his offer and before you could answer he was already shoving two fingers in, “I don’t even need to ask do I? You’re always thirsty for this cock.” 

You didn’t care that you looked like a mess, that you definitely had drool down your chin, and you definitely didn’t care to try and deny what he was saying because he was right. You were always thirsty for it and good on him for realizing you were crazy for his bastard self. So you just made a half attempt of nodding while tucking your knees under you to raise up slightly for more leverage to push back against the hand that was fucking into you, “That’s it, baby. Fuck this little cunt on my fingers. So wet and desperate for it.” 

His other hand reached under you to rub at your clit, “You’re gonna fuck yourself on my fingers until you cum and then I’m gonna make you squirt on my cock, right here out in the open. Got that, Sugar?” You whined but didn’t make any other acknowledgment. You felt a jerk in his fingers inside you curling at just the right area to hit against your G-spot, “I asked you a fuckin question, Lucie and I expect a damn answer. You got that?” your head shot up as he hammered against that magical spot, “Yes! Yes, Bo! Yes, daddy! I got it! Please just let me cum, please!”  

Your hips were pushing back just as fast as he was hammering his finger into you and down on your clit had you cumming within the next few minutes with a scream of his name. “That’s right, baby girl tell ‘em all who just made your toes curl.” You didn’t even need to look to see the smirk that was on his face, it was plain in his voice. His hand in your pussy was still slowly moving, helping in your come down while his other hand moved to rub circles on your back. “You did so good, Lucie. But we ain’t done yet sugar.” 

Your breath hitched, that’s right, he wants you to squirt on his cock outside in front of the station. That thought was already making your sensitive pussy tighten around his fingers still in you, “Oh, I felt that darlin, you need my cock that bad after cumming so soon?” at your nod he pulled his fingers out and gave your ass one last resounding spank, “Of course my nasty girl does, wouldn’t be a cockslut otherwise.” 

At that he picked you up like it was nothing as he stood before turning and placing your back to the tailgate. Looking up at him he was giving you such a devious smirk that it automatically had your legs spreading and your knees pulling up to your chest. His smirk only deepened, “Look at that puffy swollen cunt all ready for a pounding. Hold yourself open for me, babe. Wanna see that hole ready for my cock.” you groaned out his name but did as he asked and looped your arms around your thighs to hold yourself open for him- had the added benefit of locking your knees to your chest too. 

 He didn’t even undress fully just unbuttoned his jumpsuit enough to take his cock out and slap it against the top of your pussy before sliding it down to your open hole, “You look so good like this, sugar. Gonna look even better stretched out around my cock.” As he said that he’d been tracing a hand between your folded legs up your stomach along the bottom of your shirt. In a tight grip, he ripped it up and pulled your bra down, “Wanna see these tits bounce while I fuck this pussy.” you answered with a, “Mmhmm, anything you want, just put it in, please!” his hand continued up to your throat while he slid into you. 

His hand clearly felt the vibrations of the deep moan you let out when he finally hilted inside you. “Feel so snug in here. Your cunts always so tight for me. Let’s see if we can stretch it a little, sugar.” and he was rapidly moving within you. He didn’t pull any punches, no starting off slow and building up, no he went full force and stayed that way. You were constantly sobbing at the feel of him, your tits were bouncing just like he’d wanted, and the hand at your throat was putting just enough pressure to add to your pleasure, “Touch that clit for me. Hammer down on it hard and don’t stop. Said you were gonna squirt and I mean it.” 

He adjusted his hips and finally found that magic spot that had you crying out, “Right there! Don’t stop, right there! Just like that, please, Bo!” He cooed at your begging and kept at that spot, “Look at this cunt swallow up my cock, looks like its more desperate than you are. Such a dirty fucking girl lettin me do this to ya out here.” You were so keyed up that his words were almost background noise, you could feel the pressure building and you wanted it, needed it, craved it. 

So you listened to his advice and kept your harsh pace on your clit while he kept hammering into that spot. It only took a few more moments before you were crying out a mix of his name and please and then finally a half moan half scream as you came hard against him. He’d got what he wanted, you definitely squirted and your pussy had gotten so tight that it set his orgasm off too. He pulled out of your quickly to aim up at your chest and face- most landed on your breast, but some painted against your cheek. 

You were like jelly, just floating and you had no intention of moving. Vaguely you felt a hand stroking your hair and that finally brought you back to your senses. With a full-body stretch you groaned, you were an utter mess, “Happy Birthday, Lucie.” And then he laid a kiss to your forehead and you absolutely didn’t care about the cum cooling on your chest.

[cryptenby]

an abundance of green

so i’ve been watching critical role over quarantine and apparently it’s impossible for me to half ass anything so i’m obsessed, and obviously my love of rarepairs has gone nowhere, so im basically contractually obligated to write about Fjord and Caduceus. this has no plot, is completely indulgent and i really hope that whoever reads it enjoys it anyway lmao it’s also on ao3!!

They’re at the Xhorhaus at Caduceus’s own insistence. He told everyone he wanted to check on the tree and their makeshift temple, and Caduceus never asks for anything so the Mighty Nein is packing up before he’s finished the question. It almost makes him feel a little guilty, considering he really just wants to get his hands on Caleb and Essek. They need a good pot of tea and a solid talking to. Realistically, he thinks he could have just said that but Caleb is skittish about matters of the heart, especially when he didn’t initiate them on his own.

Beau knows though. She corners him before they leave, out of earshot of most everyone. “Duce. This about Essek?”

He laughs a little to himself, an airy thing. “Kind of. I would like to check on him, I'm hoping he’ll come see us. Or let us see him.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“You probably shouldn’t,” Caduceus grins.

“How is it possible that I know that you mean that but I still feel a little guilty?” she says, a little sheepish as Caduceus laughs. “How can you trust him so easily?”

“I have faith that you guys will ask the right questions. If he doesn’t care for us, or have our best interests at heart, I’m very confident the more suspicious of us will be on top of it. But I trust Mr. Caleb, and he didn't condemn him,” Caduceus says with a shrug. “Neither will I.”

Beau just looks at him for a moment before sniffing harshly and blowing out a loud breath. “Fucking fine. I won’t tear him a new one but don’t think I didn’t notice that you gave me permission to pull every possible piece of information out of him.”

“Of course,” Caduceus says, barely containing his smile. “I know who you are, Ms. Beau, and I expect you to be yourself.”

Beau blushes, for some reason, and clears her throat. “Right. Thanks, Duce.”

He gives a mock, half salute that he’s seen her give to their captain, and it makes her laugh before she strolls off. It doesn’t take them much longer before they’re off, Caleb finishing off the teleportation circle with a dramatic flourish that makes Jester giggle, the whole point of it, Caduceus is sure.

The familiar trek to the Xhorhaus seems to take no time at all, the tree he’s grown so fond of twinkling with a soft light the closer they get, a beacon, of sorts, welcoming them home. He’s a little surprised by how much he loves their place here; he’s not like the rest of the Nein, he already has a place that he considers home, so the new one was not so significant for him as for the others. In fact, it took him a while to even accept the place as theirs and not expect some ulterior motives to come to light. The feelings were unfamiliar territory for him at the time, suspicion and a lack of appreciation for a gift so grand, and the planting of the tree was a way for him to apologize and make peace in the space. It definitely seemed to work, if the happy flutter in his heart at the sound of the chimes when they enter is anything to go by.

Everyone goes to their respective rooms to store their things, chatting genially before they go their separate ways.

Everyone other than Fjord. 

He does a loop around the common room, getting familiar again with his steps before he centers himself in the room, inhaling, and mumbling something under his breath with the exhale. The gentle reverb that follows confirms what Caduceus assumed he would do; the blade glows blue and Fjord glows with it, his See Invisibility spell activated.

The bunch in his muscles draw his attention first as he holds the greatsword aloft, inhaling again and opening his eyes on the exhale, their blue glow matching the runes on his blade. They highlight the depth of his cheekbones and strength of his jaw, his already handsome features softly accentuated. Fjord starts to walk the room with a more keen gaze, his steps strong and sure in a way Caduceus has only noticed since he accepted their Mother’s grace. He decides to turn tail and head up the stairs before Fjord has a chance to ask questions about his lingering that he isn’t prepared to answer.

The smell of dirt greets him as he ascends the stairs and he takes a deep breath, entering the roof with a grin. Everything is as he left it, the twinkling lights from their tree painting the room a soft yellow with their glow. Every bit of life to be seen seems to reach toward him as he enters and he greets them brightly, apologizing for being gone so long and asking each that he passes how they’re getting along.

A breeze warms him a little while later and it carries a friendly warning as it leaves him, explained when he hears the footsteps of someone approaching.

Too large to be Veth or Jester, too loud to be Beau or Yasha, too heavy to be Caleb, leaving only—

Fjord knocks gently twice before he lifts the hatch.

“Hey, Ducey,” he says with a smile. “Can I come up?”

“You know you’re always welcome, Mr. Fjord.”

Caduceus turns to greet him happily and sees some of the plants turn towards Fjord in his peripheral; he chuckles a bit at Fjord’s look of awe that he catches at a glance and shuffles over to grab the kettle and start a pot of tea. He turns back to ask Fjord if he wants any and stops, blinking slowly.

Fjord is saying something but Caduceus is barely paying attention, distracted as he is by the fitted, soft linen Fjord is adorned in. It’s not as though he’s never seen him in underclothes before, they’ve shared a space too many times for that to be the case, but those clothes all bore the wear and tear of the life the half-orc led, and politeness ensured Caduceus never let his eyes linger too long, for obvious and other reasons.

Never before had Caduceus seen Fjord looking so dressed down, so comfortable, cozy, safe. It fills him up inside, butterflies with wings stronger than any he’d encountered in Melora’s fields fighting for purchase in his belly. He wants to touch him: his face to memorize the laugh lines there, his chest to feel the steady beat of his heart, his back to guard it and ensure no one ever catches him unaware again.

He wants to protect him. He wants to tell him. He wants to keep looking and never say anything else ever again.

And that’s. Well, it’s weird.

Caduceus Clay, infatuated? Enamored? With one of his own party? How could it have happened without his notice?

“Uh, Caduceus?” Fjord calls, and he sounds closer than before.

Caduceus blinks slowly and looks down at his concerned friend now standing close enough to touch, and he takes advantage, grabbing him around the elbow, his dark green skin and black claws clashing prettily with Caduceus’s pale sleeves and light grey fur.

“Alright?” Fjord asks, sounding a little more concerned this time.

Caduceus blinks at him and clears his throat around a little white lie. “Yes, sorry. Sometimes I fall deep into my conversations with the Wildmother. Um, tea?”

Fjord looks closely at him before nodding and releasing him, and Caduceus takes the first chance to hide his face, cheeks blushing with his new revelation as he walks over to the little fire pit he’d dug out just for the kettle. He can hear Fjord walking closer, slowly, probably taking in the roof like he does every time he’s here, even though he’s seen it many times over. It’s endearing, and those butterflies from before seem to have made themselves at home in his belly, fluttering madly. He takes a couple deep breaths that don’t help at all and curses his luck.

“Man, I never get tired of that,” Fjord says, having finally made his way over and sitting down close by.

Caduceus looks at his smile and thinks, yeah, me either. 

“It never really gets old.” He says instead. “Is that what you came up for? Not that I ever mind, just curious.”

“Oh, no, I wanted to thank you actually.” Fjord says. He’s looking at Caduceus with such earnest sincerity that Caduceus’s heart swoops in his chest. “I’m loath to admit it but I think I needed a break and I know I would never have bothered to ask, even once I figured out I needed it.

I know you don’t do it on purpose, but just having you around makes everything easier, better. And I feel like we don’t tell you that enough, or tell you thank you often enough. So, thank you.”

Fjord squeezes his hand, smiling softly at him, his lips finally used to the tusks that are growing in proud and strong. Caduceus grips him back and hopes that the answering squeeze and tears in his eyes are enough to express his gratitude.

“And also. I’m not around all the time obviously, so forgive me if I’m wrong, but you’ve never really talked about, you know, anything, really. You’ve gone through some pretty fucked shit like the rest of us and you deserve the care you keep trying to give everyone else. So, if you ever need to talk to anyone,” Fjord says softly, cupping one of Caduceus’s hands in both of his and smiling a self-deprecating grin. “I’m here. I’m a mess, but I’m a good listener.”

“Okay,” Caduceus says, around the lump in his throat. “Thank you, Mr. Fjord.”

“Okay,” Fjord says back, cheeky grin turning into a relieved smile. “Thank you, Mr. Clay.”

Caduceus nods and looks at him for longer than strictly necessary, and it doesn't escape his notice that Fjord lets him, stealing in some glances of his own. Caduceus’s heart swoops again and he finds himself wishing he could ask Melora for a bit of guidance, knowing her answer would be vague and leave him feeling more confused than ever. The frustration barely has time to take hold before he feels a warm breeze like fingers caressing his cheek and Fjord must soon follow, if his gentle chuckle is anything to go by.

He feels selfish for his frustration, fleeting as it was.

He looks at Fjord, and he wants.

He takes a deep breath.

He makes tea.