#it was about HIM. it was about how HE felt about it. he had ZERO sympathy for me and i handled all his emotional labor

[dekuneho]

sober ☆ ( ​prohero!katsuki x reader ) mdni | suggestive — liquid courage failed you before, too many times to count. this time, you're staying sharp.

mature content, alcohol/drinking, getting together, katsuki is such a boyfriend for someone who isnt your boyfriend, whipped katsuki my favorite, pov switching, 4k words

Katsuki grunts, scowling at nothing in particular. “Stupid.”

His phone vibrates in his pocket. Katsuki, pissed enough as he is, shoves a hand to squint at the message.

where r u???? hurry the fuck up. pleasee omfg

It’s from Flat Face. Figures.

eat shit and die im almost there

Without Katsuki to play the adult supervision, Sero remains the sober friend in outings, mostly because he can handle his liquor well. Sero badgers on with his texts, begging for Katsuki to hurry before they’re permanently banned at their favorite karaoke bar.

Sero follows up on a recent message with an image attached. Katsuki slows his steps to glare down at his phone. Sero’s real shitty at taking pictures, or it could be someone’s jostling him from the side. None of it matters — Katsuki’s eyes zero in on you lying on Mina’s lap, where the camera had captured you mid-laugh.

“Stupid,” Katsuki repeats, unable to tear his eyes away from your glee for a moment too long. He only snaps back to reality when his phone dims. He must’ve painted a manic picture, staring at his phone like a damn creep. Fuck.

He’ll see the real deal in a minute, but still, he saves the image in his phone gallery. That’s between him and his phone.

Katsuki ignores the crisp breeze brushing his bare face. His nose twitches, growing numb; he feels his hands ache in traces of pain that come to bloom when it’s met with a sharp chill. This feeds his irritation further, yet it’s telling that he continues to walk down the road, as if turning back home was never an option in his head.

The attendant appears relieved to see him; whether it’s from recognition of the #5 hero or the acknowledgment of this establishment’s savior from rowdy pro heroes, Katsuki will never know. Katsuki doesn’t even need to ask — she just hurries him to the far corner room where his shitty friends are situated. He mutters his thanks. She just tells him good luck. Damn.

Katsuki pulls the sliding door open and is instantly greeted by the stench of alcohol. Sero’s picture hadn’t done enough justice; seeing it in real life is worse. It’s like the aftermath of a nasty villain attack if it came in the form of piles and piles of beer and alcohol puddles and bar snacks all over the table. Kirishima’s knocked out on Sero’s shoulder, drooling. Jirou is also fast asleep, taking an entire couch, leaving Sero to huddle uncomfortably on the edge of a corner. Mina’s holding the microphone, but nothing’s playing; she’s just singing shit. You’re laughing at Mina, clutching your stomach.

He nearly stumbles over a leg belonging to Kaminari, who’s sprawled on the floor for some fucking reason.

“The fuck happened?” he hisses, narrowly missing Kaminari's arm swinging to latch onto his ankle.

Cheers erupt from all around the table when they register Katsuki’s arrival. Sero looks like a single parent of five — which may just be the case.

Sero sighs. “It’s like I blinked and was left with this.”

Katsuki snorts. At least he knows how it feels. He's felt that way since year fucking one.

He steps over Kaminari's body, ignoring his cry, heading straight towards you. Raccoon eyes is talking to Katsuki — something about him being a jackass for bailing on tonight, not that Katsuki gives a single fuck.

“Killjoy. Boring. You’re getting boring, old man!” Mina yells at his face.

“Fuck off,” Katsuki says reflexively. “We’re celebrating again next week anyway. Don’t start with me.”

You beam at him, hands reaching out like a fucking child or something. He begins to pry you off Mina’s lap, but his hold under your arms gives notice to how you’re shivering.

Katsuki shrugs his coat off and drapes it over you. Looks like he’ll have to take you home himself.

“Sero,” Katsuki voices in a bite, glaring over his shoulder.

Sero rushes to service as Katsuki shifts to his back, leaving Kirishima to sag beside Jirou, their snores harmonizing. Sero drags you to settle on Katsuki’s back, where Katsuki quickly hunches over and shifts his palms under your thighs. You mumble happily, burrowing your nose into the nape of his neck.

Katsuki slings a heated warning in Sero’s direction before the bastard can laugh about it.

“Call a cab,” he grunts out. “Wake Shitty Hair up; he can help you with those shits.”

Sero flicks a hand in a mock salute.

It was a tedious process, but everyone managed, eventually. They all crash at Kirishima’s house. They’ll be fine. And if someone’s house burns down — well… they’re heroes, they’ll still be fine.

Katsuki adjusts his hold, exiting the bar as the cab drives off. He walks, the cold billowing a soft cloud in each breath.

“You awake back there?” he asks, staring ahead.

“Mm, you take such good care of me, Katsukiii,” you coo in his ear, your lips brushing over the shell of his ear.

He shivers, feeling warmth creep up the back of his neck. You laugh irritatingly, grating his nerves and fluttering his stomach. He bristles at the sensation, snarling nonsense that you don’t even listen to, too busy giggling over damn who-knows-what.

“Walking me back to your home, huh? What are you, my bodyguard? You big, strong … hunk of a man…”

Katsuki huffs in amusement. “Yeah?”

“Katsuki,” you drawl, your hand sliding over his bicep. “You’re so good to me. You take care of me, y’know?”

“I know,” Katsuki says, devoid of its usual snark. “‘s ‘cause you can’t do it yourself.”

“Ha-ha!” You lean your chin on his shoulder. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right. Wish you could … take care of me like this … forever.”

“Idiot,” Katsuki says, mostly to himself. You don’t respond either way.

Katsuki can fucking smell the alcohol reeking from your mouth. He’s about to tell you off, complain about your goddamn stink, but you’ve gone limp in his hold.

“Do you mean that?” Katsuki starts, and it’s met with silence. Then, snoring.

Katsuki doesn’t smile, but the by-passers would argue otherwise.

This is bad. Starting to get bad.

You got somewhat shit-faced drunk in hopes of making a move on Katsuki with liquid courage, but he’d taken care of you so well that you didn’t even have a hangover as an excuse the moment you jolted to consciousness. Your head is starting to clear up, losing its fog and illusion of confidence, and your brain is running off at full speed.

This isn’t the first time you’ve sobered up while in the warmth of Katsuki’s bed, an hour or so after he whisked you away from your shared friend group.

What the fuck am I doing? You want to punch something and scream, ideally where Katsuki can’t see you throwing a tantrum.

You turn to your side where Katsuki’s still in deep sleep, shoulders rising and falling at once like a decrescendo, slow and steady. It’s a heart-aching sight — achingly bare.

He has his back turned. You hold your breath and peek over, hands catching an inch away from Katsuki’s face, catching a view of his mouth open just a tiny bit for quiet snores to come out. It’s unbearably cute. He must’ve been tired, having to take care of your careless drunk ass all night, and it’s not even the first time.

This isn't anything new either — sleeping on the same bed. You remember it from the first night. He shrugged it off, saying he didn't want to carry your ass anymore. You're already makin' me take care of your dumb ass every time this shit happens — you expected me to go 'n sacrifice the bed I bought with my own money?

"Scandalous," you said, at the time, reeling from how defensive Katsuki had been.

"Not like I'm gonna do anythin' to you." Katsuki stared you down. "Why? You wanted me to?"

How embarrassing to resort to liquid courage and still fail.

This has to end. You are definitely not aiming to become a drunkard just to have a chance with your crush.

“Morning,” a gravelly voice mutters, breath hot on your face.

You come to the startling realization that you've been hovering over Katsuki for longer than you intended. His intense gaze arrests yours, tension hanging in the hair. Like doused in a bucket of cold water, you jerk away and flounder, half-baked syllables spilling as some attempt of an excuse. There is no other explanation for that — you were ogling Katsuki in his sleep.

Katsuki doesn’t smirk, but the mirth lighting in his eyes comes very close to it. He pulls you to his side, gripping one of your wrists and positioning it on the other side of his head. He adjusts your hold until you’re pinning him down.

You choke on your breath. “What—”

This time, Katsuki grins. “You're gonna strain your shoulders, idiot.”

Dangerous man, the primal instincts of your brain scream, flinching away, hissing. The hormonal side begs you to pounce on him and wipe that smug expression off his handsome face.

You quickly pull back, recoiling away, only to find yourself back up to the firm surface of Katsuki’s thigh, where he had lifted it in his wake. The shock sends a sharp jolt of aching pain at your violent reaction. You whimper and clutch at your head, dizziness inciting a pathetic: Owww.

“Don’t move so much, fucking dipshit,” Katsuki hisses, easing your hips down on his other thigh that’s laid flat on the bed. “Don’t you fuckin' dare throw up so goddamn early. Shit, it’s like, what, four AM?”

You sag against him, feeling at ease without the strain of your muscles holding your weight up. Katsuki’s like a mountain mass furnace — how nice. You don’t even register that you’re all but straddled on his thigh; if anyone were to walk in, they’d be well within their rights to assume the worst.

Katsuki cranes his neck as he reaches for a glass. You jostle at the movement, grumbling, and Katsuki mutters a quiet ‘sorry,' holding the water to your lips. You take gulps of water slowly, careful not to spill and ruin Katsuki’s strangely soft mood.

“Thanks,” you say. Katsuki’s actions and the weight of his tone — everything is off-kilter with the mood that’s just set. He’s really… “Sorry for the trouble,” you say in a hushed whisper, guilt settling in.

“If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t,” Katsuki snaps, frown deepening. His eyes don’t convey the same ire.

“Yeah.” You nod, fond. “You don’t do anything you don’t want to, huh?”

Katsuki’s expression shifts. Just slightly, before it melts back into practiced blankness. “So?”

Everything’s straightforward with Katsuki. But even then — even then, he might not mean it in the same way as you’re hoping.

“I wasn’t that drunk, you know.” You want to look away, but you’re finding it difficult to even try. “I never was. I — I know this is the third time this happened.”

Katsuki lifts a brow. “You remember the first time you threw up in my car then?”

Your face erupts in flames. “I’m so sorry.”

Katsuki pushes you by the small of your back, closer to him. You swallow back an embarrassing noise, somehow quick enough to balance yourself on his chest before you plant your nose to his face. Katsuki’s ruby gaze pins you down, even when you’re the one on top of him. Dangerous, dangerous, leave, your brain yowls. Your body, your heart — stays incredibly still, obedient in the face of the man who's got you weak.

“Do you remember what you said last night?” Katsuki asks, several octaves deep. Roused freshly from slumber.

You squirm. His skin feels hot to the touch, even through his fucking black tank top. “I said a lot of dumb shit, Katsuki.”

“Do you mean them, then?”

You file through your memories, trying to pinpoint precisely what he’s talking about. Katsuki’s patient, seemingly content with keeping you on his lap, staring. You’re the humiliated one here.

“What did I say?” you demand, nerves constricting in your chest.

Katsuki pushes his torso up with a hand, inching his face impossibly close. The heat of his gaze spreads through your entire body. You’re sure he can feel it, too — hard to miss when you’re a lapful of a flighty cat perched on him.

His nose brushes against yours, eyes flickering down. Your breath hitches, caught in the hush of the moment.

“Katsuki?” you ask in a fearful whisper. Katsuki’s eyes snap back to meet your gaze.

“‘m hungry,” Katsuki mutters, leaning back.

Your face burns, his warmth lingering on the space before you. Your hands touch over your face, winded. Still aware of Katsuki’s intense gaze, you pull off from his lap, ignoring the scream of your headache as you dash to the kitchen.

You really thought he was going to kiss you.

No, maybe it's more accurate to say you were hoping for it. You almost pleaded for him to. Had he lingered, you would’ve thrown yourself all over him, begging, Please, please, Katsuki kiss me — I need you. How embarrassing is that? To need someone so badly that he's your waking thought, and yet you hate seeing him around?

Instead, the morning ended with Katsuki lending his shirt and driving you back to your apartment — a set routine — the third time. You talked to ease the tension, but it was a fruitless attempt at the question hanging in the air, dangling in front of both your faces. Katsuki doesn’t bring it up, so you hang onto the sliver of mercy he’s granted.

The week passes, and still, you aren't quite ready when another chance comes again.

You wonder if he’ll bring it up tonight.

This time, the party is in honor of celebrating Katsuki’s — Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight — ascension to the Top 5 in the Pro Hero ranking. Katsuki’s not surprised, but most of the class is; he hasn’t laid off on the crude language, so it’s a wonder he even got into the Top 10 at all.

Most of your former classmates are busy with their duties and patrol, and Katsuki isn’t keen on inviting more than five people to his house. Unfortunately for him, Kirishima, Kaminari, Mina, Sero, Jirou, and Kaminari wouldn’t miss this celebration for the world — Villains be damned, it’s Bakugou Katsuki’s big day. It’s an unspoken agreement that you tag along. Katsuki also texted you that you were late an hour ago, so it’d be no use for anyone to upset Katsuki.

Of course, parties go hand-in-hand with alcohol. You had been avoiding Katsuki since that night, fleeing at every glimpse of blond hair. No one has noticed, except maybe Katsuki, whose eyes linger on you for five seconds longer than usual when you knock on his door.

His gaze sends a lick of heat down your spine, and the night’s just starting.

There needs to be a change of plans. If trapping him drunk doesn’t work after three failed attempts, then you have no choice but to do it sober.

That scrap of interest Katsuki had shown last week was more than enough encouragement. If you don’t end up confessing your feelings tonight, then that just means you’re never meant to do it at all — which would’ve been the easiest way out if Katsuki didn’t make it so hard.

“Hey,” you say. "I'm here."

“Finally,” he mutters. Your lips quirk up in humor.

Katsuki’s gaze slips from your collarbone to your thighs before flicking back up. A flame of interest makes itself known to you, to your chagrin. You’re no better: Katsuki’s dressed in low-hung jeans and a black fitted tank top under a striking red button-down, sleeves rolled up to his elbow. How can he make a simple nothing look so sinful?

Katsuki steps back, presenting the surprisingly neat get-together your friends have set up. There’s a buffet of food spread across Katsuki’s dining table — and because you know Katsuki well enough to be privy to his skills in the kitchen, you can tell he cooked all of them. There are banners spelling his name out beside Congratulations!, which must be Katsuki’s limit, seeing the lack of confetti.

“You’re here!” Mina shrieks, bounding over to encase you in a tight hug.

Air knocks out of your lungs as she squeezes your neck. You tap Mina’s back in distress. The room lights up with laughter, greeting you in turn. Kaminari moves to ruffle your hair, but his eyes catch on something behind you, and he pales and hides behind an amused Kirishima.

Katsuki heads to the kitchen island, alcohol lined up in a neat pile. You decide firmly that you are not getting drunk — you will power through with your plan, and that’s your mission for the day.

You pump your fist once and exhale roughly. Plus Ultra! Mina says you look stupid, dragging you off to the living room.

You’re squished between Kaminari and Mina, who throw their heads back for a shot.

True to your word, you denied any shot glasses offered, instead busying your mouth with the food Katsuki cooked. It's too bad you can't shut your brain the same way.

It’s tempting — really, really tempting. You haven’t been able to approach Katsuki, feeling too much like you should just forget about whatever plan you had for a confession and ride the tide back to normalcy. To get shitfaced drunk and leave it for you to deal with in the morning. But whenever you meet Katsuki’s eyes — it’s like you’re back on his bed, he’s too close for comfort, and you're reminded of all those mornings you wished was so much more last night, and the itch for alcohol is swept away.

Mina rests her head on the curve of your shoulder, her hair tickling your cheek. She asks, too nonchalantly for your liking—

“Have you and Katsuki fucked this week yet?”

You’re fortunate enough to have decided to skip alcohol for tonight, or else you would’ve died from choking on it. You glance over, hoping Katsuki hadn't been paying attention, but to your relief, he was absorbed in a discussion with Kirishima. “I’m — Have we — What?!”

Mina barrels on obliviously. “Had sex. Gotten busy. Under the covers. Hands-on learning—”

“No, I — What the fuck!” You shove her off. Mina sways in place; you'd feel sorry if you weren’t so scandalized. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Oh.” Mina tilts her head and watches your reaction thoughtfully. “No wonder why. Katsuki’s looking all tense lately.”

What the hell. “So?!”

Your shriek disturbs the peace of the party.

Kaminari chimes in to add to the blow. You lock eyes with Katsuki from across the room — must be the ninth time this evening — while Mina and Kaminari crowd in on you, relentless with probing curiosity. “I also thought he was acting like he was lacking some action—”

Blood rushes to your cheeks as you rip your gaze off Katsuki’s questioning stare. Then, in a low whisper, “Katsuki and I have never — we aren’t even—”

Kaminari turns his head, presumably to eye Katsuki. “Why does he look like he’s about to eat you up?”

“Do I look like I can read his mind?” You feel irritation like a blade on your nerves. “If he’s all tense, then he should get his dick wet — and I’m not involved in any of that.”

Mina gapes, disgusted. “What? You’d just let him fool around with someone else?”

“Why would that be my issue?”

Mina and Kaminari share a look. “Oh my god.” 

“You’re actually not together? Not even, like — just fooling around as friends?”

“No, Kaminari.” You hate how you sound defeated admitting that. “No, we’re not.”

“Fuck,” says Mina emphatically. “Fuck! You’ve got to fuck!”

“What — Why is this my responsibility? If he’s happy fucking someone else, let him be — You want him to loosen up, don’t you?”

Mina’s face shifts into a devious little thing. “You look like you want him to loosen you up.”

"That's so gross, Ashido."

Kaminari grins knowingly. “You jealous? Why’s that, huh?”

“Because I’ve been wanting to confess to him for two months now, and my liquid courage is nothing but a fucking cock-blocker!” you hiss in a frantic whisper.

“We’ve got to fix this!” Mina says, the hero that she is. “We need you to get laid!”

“Please tone it down,” you plead.

Kaminari tugs you down in a mock of a team huddle. You squirm uncomfortably; you can taste the liquor in their breaths. “What’s your game plan?” he asks. “Seduce him? Lock him up in his room, maybe?”

“I guess? I just want to do it sober.”

Mina suddenly leaps to her feet, yelling like a soldier. “Isolate him, then force your love!”

“Sober and preferably not unhero-like.”

Mina squeals, cupping your cheeks. “Do it tonight. He’s ready, I can feel it. He’s looking at you.”

Everyone in the room is casting glances at the three of you, but thankfully, Sero, Jirou, and Kirishima are respectful enough not to approach and disrupt the troubling conversation for your dignity’s sake.

“Of course he’s looking at me,” you wallow in mortification. “You’re making it too obvious. I’m going to get bullied.”

Mina smirks, her gaze trained ahead. “Yeah, you’re going to get bullied alright.”

You splutter, “What do you mean—”

Katsuki hovers over you three. “Let’s talk,” he demands, glaring hotly.

You’re back in Katsuki’s room, this damned space — the source of all your longing dreams and fantasies. The music from downstairs dials up, though it seems like it’s more out of consideration for you both. You’d been whisked away by Bakugou Katsuki once again, both of you blatantly disregarding the obscene gestures Mina and Kaminari were making as he pulled you upstairs. This time, however, you’re as sober as ever. It feels so different, like you're pulled out after submerging in the water for too long. Everything is so loud and clear.

Katsuki cages you against his door, never one to mess around.

“If I made you uncomfortable, punch me,” Katsuki says out of nowhere.

You’re speechless. “What?”

“Just — yell at me or some shit. Don’t start avoidin’ me, and don’t just move on to some other extra,” Katsuki mutters, deliberately averting your wide eyes. Move on to another— "I'll leave you alone."

"Why would I…" Move on to someone else? That's almost disrespectful to all the pining that's fucked with your head since this crap started. Move on? From Bakugou Katsuki?

"You were talking about it with those assholes."

Oh. He overheard all the wrong parts.

"I'm not gonna hook up with anyone else!"

The tension that has coiled tightly around his shoulders eases. Yet, despite this, he still hadn't made any bold moves to lead you to his bed, holding onto a fragile thread of hesitation that lingered in the air between you. Like you didn't just admit you're exclusively waiting for him.

His face twists up. “And, about that night, I wasn’t gonna — fuck, I’m not gonna do shit you don’t want, but I can’t read your mind. I don't wanna fuck this up.”

“What are we talking about?”

“The kiss, dammit — shit. Get it straight before I get the wrong idea.” Katsuki groans, resting an arm above your head. Is it wrong to be so endeared by someone clearly struggling to get his point across? “Do you mean it?”

You furrow your brows, arms crossed. This again. “What did I say, Katsuki?”

“When you said you wanted me to take care of you forever.”

What the hell? Did you really say that? Screw the exclusiveness of sex, that was basically a proposal!

Katsuki hooks a finger on your chin and forces your gaze back to him. Pay attention to me. Your eyes drift away for a second, catching on his ears, tinted ears — in contrast to his fierce scowl.

Your shoulders relax somewhat. Then you can't help but laugh.

Right, this is still just Katsuki. Your best friend, crush since forever; the guy who took care of you without even asking for anything in return. The guy who apparently has been considering your boundaries even though you've been seducing him drunk too many times.

“Why are you laughing,” Katsuki hisses; his frustration sounds more agitated than furious.

“So you did want to kiss me that morning?”

“No shit,” Katsuki huffs in a humorless laugh. “But, fuck, I’m not shitty enough to force you—”

��Katsuki,” you interrupt, “you should’ve.”

He falls silent, red eyes piercing yours searchingly.

Dangerous, your mind whispers, but you’ve never wanted to experience a thrill like this in your life. “I really wanted you to.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re lucky you took good care of me before I pounced on you drunk,” you say, and you mean it too. Your hands snake over his shoulder, tugging him down.

Katsuki’s breath catches in his throat, looking caught off guard. Wide-eyed and unsure. Cute. “Are you drunk right now?” he asks carefully.

“Never been more sober in my life,” you breathe.

He dives in for a rough kiss, one hand on the back of your head to push you deeper into him. You tilt your head to the side and — yeah, that’s better. Katsuki pries your mouth open, coaxing noises out of you that he each answers with a groan.

He smells like alcohol in his breath. It mixes with the scent of smoke — a dizzying, cloying scent that screams Katsuki. You want this more than Katsuki realizes. You want to sleep with it, to wake up to it.

“How much did you drink?” you ask.

“Just two light ones,” Katsuki says, and then one side of his lip quirks up. “Thought I had to take your ass home again.”

You smile coyly, tracing a finger over his bicep. “We can skip the foreplay — I'm already in your home, aren't I?”

Katsuki goes very, very still. Staring blankly. You hope you can convey it — you hope he doesn’t back out and pull away. You know he’ll get it. Katsuki is smart enough to pick up on your pleading gaze. His eyes burn; clearer, now, bright with understanding. 

I want this, too. You’re not sure if you or Katsuki said it.

You take his daze as a chance to push him to his bed, with you straddling legs as his eyes devour every inch of you.

“Get the fuck out of here if you don’t want me to fuck you right now,” Katsuki says seriously.

You settle over his thigh, mimicking that morning, hands splayed on his chest. Katsuki wheezes out a breath that sounds like he’s been slammed onto a wall, his grip latching onto either side of your hips right away.

“Take care of me again?” you ask.

“Holy fuck,” Katsuki says.

© dekuneho 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, modify, translate. do not input this to AI.

if you read my previous drabble ik i recycled it… but in my defense this one came first. thanks for reading mwa

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Mate: Chapter 15

Warnings: Cunnilingus, sexual punishment, spanking, choking, a very angry Chan, oral play, trauma, punishment, torture, graphic description of torture, vomitting, inexperienced Straykids.

Y/N sat around the table barely touching her food as she listened to the laughter around her. None of them spoke to her nor looked at her, only ignoring her. Even Chan made zero effort with her. Y/N felt isolated and abandoned. She wanted to speak to them, but nothing came out of her mouth. She couldn't speak. She wanted to scream. She felt terrified. Y/N even reached out to Seungmin but he ignored her, almost brushing her off. Y/N felt a lump start to form in her throat and decided she didn't want to stay in the house any longer. Y/N decided to go for a walk around the grounds to calm herself down. She knew it was a punishment but she felt shunned, out-casted even. Y/N didn't know how far or how long she had walked but decided it was time to go back, except she had gotten confused. The woods felt different, almost familiar. They felt haunted, colder, scarier. Y/N heard a soft sinister chuckle behind her, making her heart drop. She knew exactly who it was. It was Hongjoong! He was laughing at her. It made her feel pathetic. Hongjoong reached out and grabbed her with little effort, taking her down to the familiar bunker. Y/N wanted to call out. She wanted to kick and scream but nothing was coming out. Hongjoong dropped her to the ground with a thud next to Yeosang. His face was covered in bruises and old blackened blood. He wasn't breathing. Y/N looked back in fear at Hongjoong, cowering straight into the wall. Hongjoong grabbed her ankles dragging her forward to the metal chains laughing at her, but his words were numb to her ears. She wanted to beg, plead with him. She wanted to apologise but she couldn't. Hongjoong wrapped the metal chains around her ankle before clasping a cuff on her ankle, slowly turning and tightening the bolts until they were buried deep in her ankles. Once he was satisfied that she couldn't move he bolted her wrists, letting her bleed out before attaching a ribbon of wolfsbane to her wrists and hands. Y/N let out a deafening scream as her hands burned, causing the bolts to tighten deeper into her bones. "HONGJOONG!" "Y/N. Y/N. It's okay. It's okay." A worried voice panicked as he shook her gently. "Hongjoong's not here. It's a dream. It's only a dream."

Y/N bolted up sweating dripping down her face as she looked at her surroundings. She was in Changbin's room. Y/N quickly checked her wrists and ankles, looking for the holes where the bolts were, but nothing was there. "Shhh. It's not real." Changbin cooed as he rubbed her back. "I'm gonna be-" Jisung quickly grabbed the first thing he saw and threw it in front of her, letting her throw up all over Changbin's gym bag. Changbin held her hair while glaring at Jisung for choosing his brand-new Nike bag. "Do you want to talk about it?" Jisung asked as he threw the gym back outside of the door. "You all ignored me at dinner. Hongjoong found me. He killed Yeosang. He bolted me. Why? Why did you leave me?" Y/N whimpered, tears pouring down her face. "Little wolf we didn't have dinner. We missed dinner and poor Minho hyung's birthday, remember." Jisung cooed, trying to calm her down. "It was an awful dream. None of it was real. Hongjoong didn't hurt you." Changbin whispered as he kissed her forehead. Jisung laid back down on the bed with his head on her lap looking up at her. His worried eyes reached her frightened ones as he nuzzled into her thighs. Y/N reached out stroking his soft brown hair as she tried to calm herself. Jisung looked up at her again with a soft look before kissing the inside of her thigh, his nose nuzzling in between her legs while Changbin kissed her neck. "We-we can't." Y/N whispered. "Let us make you feel better before we go back to sleep. We won't put it in. We know not to." Jisung whispered as he kissed her clothed pussy. "Please." Jisung whimpered feeling the urge to take her pain away. Y/N nodded and allowed the beta to slide off her bottoms, allowing her to be fully exposed to him. Jisung slowly pushed her to lean on Changbin before his head divided towards her pussy with a harsh kiss. Changbin's hands crept under her top to massage her breasts, kneading them slowly while Jisung tentatively licked through her folds. "Is this alright little wolf? Do you like it like this? Tell me what to do. Tell me how to please you." Jisung whispered as his tongue flicked her clit causing her to whimper. "I don't know. Just, I don't know, um, use your fingers as well." Y/N blurted out, completely unsure what she did and did not like, but Jisung understood and gently pushed a finger through her wet folds down into her hole, pumping in and out of her. Jisung latched his mouth to her clit trying to find a rhythm while he messily pumped in and out of her. "Jisung what's wrong?" Y/N cooed as she stroked his head, noticing his frustrated face. "He doesn't know what he's doing," Changbin whispered causing Jisung to glare. "It's not my fault I've never touched a woman before," Jisung growled out in embarrassment, he was trying his best. He wanted to please his mate as he heard orgasms can help one relax but he didn't think he was going to be awful at it.

Y/N pushed Jisung's head off of her to hold his face in her hands. "We could try you grinding on me. Like without your clothes." Y/N suggested. Jisung nodded his head, prepared to do anything to help his omega when Changbin shook his head. "Nope. Do not. If he slips his cock in Chan will kill him. Don't take the risk. Chan hasn't claimed you." Changbin warned as he looked at the sulky beta. "What if I'm careful," Jisung whispered. "Jisung. You need to be careful. I don't want Chan to hurt you." Y/N stated worriedly as she watched Jisung strip quickly. "What do I do?" Jisung stated as he tried to get his bottoms off, accidentally tripping on them. "Just lay your cock flat on me and roll your hips until you're happy but don't thrust harshly," Y/N whispered while Changbin sat there cross-legged behind her, watching him. Jisung walked over and slid in between her legs, holding his cock as he tried to position himself slightly above her opening so he wouldn't slide in. Jisung placed his hands on either side of her as he slowly slid back and forth paying close attention to her face. Y/N gripped his hips and drew him closer as she lifted her legs slightly. "You're so pretty little wolf. So so pretty. Do you like that?" Jisung whispered as he started to pick up speed at the sight of her moans. "Yes. Yes." Y/N moaned as she pulled his hips closer as he thrusted faster when she gasped, causing him to freeze. "Fuck!" Jisung whispered. "You fucking idiots. Oh no. You keep me out of this. Fuck sake." Changbin growled in a panic state as he got off the bed to leave the room.

Jisung stared at her apologetically as he slowly slid out of her pussy. His cock was covered in her silky slick. He fucked up and so did she. "It's okay. Um, we'll have a shower and then I'll talk to him." Y/N stated. "You can't baby, he's forbidden it. Fuck he's going to kill me." Jisung panicked as he grabbed his clothes pulling them back on. Y/N followed him as she quickly pulled her clothes on and headed down the stairs to see Chan already waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. "What am I going to kill Jisung for?" Chan asked curiously, causing the guilt-ridden wolves to hang their heads in shame. "Does someone want to explain what Changbin is ranting and raving about?" "I'm sorry alpha. I was about to head to Hyunjin's room." Jisung stated quickly as he tried to run past his alpha when he caught him. "What did you do?" Chan whispered with a sinister smile. "Tell me, because I don't know and Changbin stinks of fear." "I fell inside Y/N." Jisung whispered causing Minho and Seungmin to gasp behind them at Jisung's criminal offense. "You fell inside her. What do you mean you fell inside her?" Chan asked. His voice was oddly calm that it frightened every one of them. "My cock was inside her." Jisung's voice was nonexistent as he held his head in shame. His body was shaking in fear at the thought of his alpha's next move. "Your cock was inside my omega," Chan whispered before he grabbed the back of his neck, forcing the beta to look at him. "Get out of my sight. And you. Go to my room, NOW!"

Y/N did not hesitate and bolted straight to Chan's room, sitting straight on his bed cross-legged like a child as she waited for him. Her heart thumped in her chest as she heard him come up the stairs and into the room. She did not look at him, only kept her eyes focused on the crinkle of the bed sheet in front of her. Y/N almost jumped as he petted her hair softly before thrusting her head up causing her to let out a grunt. "Tell me. What happened?" Chan hummed as he tilted his head to the side. "Jisung already explained it. It was my fault." Y/N answered with a sigh causing Chan to wrap his thick hand around her throat, pressing into her windpipe. Chan tilted his chin up and a smirk started to emerge on his face as he tightened his hand around her. "So much attitude, huh?! So it was your fault again." Chan whispered. "Yes." Y/N breathed out as she watched him, curious to know what he was going to do to her since Changbin promised he wouldn't physically hurt her or abuse her but what did Chan classify as acceptable abuse? "Why? Huh." Chan asked. "I risked him grinding on me." Y/N breathed out causing Chan's eyes to widen theatrically. "Wow! You like to risk things don't you omega? Poor Jisung is only a virgin, how could you put him in such a position." Chan taunted. "I bet he was so excited to please you. You are both so alike in defiance when it comes to alphas." "I guess so," Y/N whispered a slight smirk forming on her face before she even realised she had done it. "Take your clothes off and lay on the bed. I'll let you come since Jisung didn't have the time too." Chan smirked as he let go of her. Y/N felt nervous and confused. She wasn't sure of his actions but did as she was told knowing it was a punishment, not a reward.

Awkwardly she laid on his bed and slowly spread her legs with uncertainty as she watched her alpha crawl towards her. Chan forced her legs further apart before he spat on her pussy, allowing his spit to slide down her folds. Y/N tried her best not to whimper at the feeling but she found it incredibly hard not to. Her alpha was undeniably ethereal at sight but incredibly dangerous. His tongue quickly swiped across her folds before his mouth assaulted her wet pussy causing her to cry out. Chan pressed deeper with an animalistic grow as he forced his tongue into her tight hole while he teased her clit until she was about to come. Y/N could feel her orgasm rising when he stopped and slapped her pussy harshly, causing her to grumble. Silently cursing herself for indulging. Y/N watched him sit up and beckoned her over. There goes my fucking ass.

Y/N knew what he was going to do and Y/N was shit at this punishment. Why? Y/N had this habit of getting distracted and forgetting the number of spanks she was on which resulted in her having thrice as many. Y/N slowly crawled over his lap positioning herself so he could spank her, but instead, he forced her legs open, gently stroking her. "I want you to count to 25 for me princess alright?!" Twenty-five. Fuck that's more than eighteen. "Ah. Ah. Yes, alpha. Yes, alpha." Y/N whined as he slapped her wet pussy. "One." "Two." "Three." "Four." Fuck that one wasn't nice. "Five." Y/N kept counting, noticing the different ways Chan spanked her. Some were harder than others. Some were extremely hard and Chan noticed that as he realised her pain tolerance was pretty high. "Fifteen." Fuck me. That one really burns. My ass is bruised. Fuck what number was I on. "Nineteen?" Y/N guessed causing Chan to smack her thigh. "I guess we'll start again." Chan taunted. "Wait. Wait. I know. I know. Fuck. Sixteen! Alpha please, I'm sorry." Y/N whined out, struggling to deal with her burning ass. "I know baby, but you really need to learn, otherwise Jinnie is going to have a lot of fun with you." Chan taunted as he started the spanks all over again. "Twenty three, twenty four, twenty five." Y/N spat out quickly as Chan rushed the last three, feeling slightly sorry for her and her bruised ass. "Do you know why I spanked you little wolf?" Chan cooed as he gently massages her swollen ass. "Because I take too many risks. I'm sorry alpha." Y/N whispered, sniffling to herself slightly. Chan placed a delicate kiss on her spine as he hummed at her answer. "I know baby. I know you're sorry. Which is why I'm going to ban you from touching, hugging or kissing any of the other wolves until I deem it acceptable. Otherwise, you'll spend a day with Jinnie and me downstairs." Chan promised, knowing his sweet little wolf was going to test him more down the line.

Taglist for the iconic readers:

@galaxy4489 @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @maybeimmia @hwangrfrnd @pixie0627 @wolfo2027 @kayleefriedchicken @leamueller920 @borahae-reads @jennibahng @cookiesandcreammy @leezanetheofficial @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @linocz @itzreetal987 @skzdreamer13 @reallychaoticwoo

[m00nl1ghts1vt]

You Like Me? II - Matt Sturniolo

Read First - You Like Me? Pairings - bsf!Matt x bsf!Reader Summary - The morning after Matt confesses his feelings for you, he's sober and remembers everything from the night before. Warnings - Strong language, making out, mentions of alcohol use, suggestiveness, fluff, lil bit of angst W/c - 1479 A/n - I got a couple requests to write a second part so here it is!! I hope everyone likes it ❤️ Tags - @lvrsturniolo @thepubeburgler @unknvhx @ribread03 @m11rx @emely9274 (I believe I got all the tags, if I missed anyone comment below!!) Masterlist City of Love. Part 2. - current series

The morning sun beamed through the curtains, making Matt toss and turn. It had been hours since his confession. Your brain didn’t let you get a wink of sleep, you were up contemplating your next move. You didn’t know if he was completely shitfaced or if he was being serious when he told you he had feelings for you. You knew you needed answers, though. 

Knowing Matt wouldn’t be awake a couple more hours, you kick the covers off of your body, rising to your feet, and making your way to the hallway bathroom. You try to ease your panicked mind by splashing water in your face, standing there for a while before you hear a light knock on the door. 

“Y/n/n?” Matt’s voice sounds quietly from the other side. The familiar lump lodges itself in your throat, making it hard to talk, “y-yea?”

“You okay?” he croaks out, concern laced through his words. You don’t give your thoughts any time to collect themselves before you swing the bathroom door open. Matt stands there with a sympathetic look stuck on his face. His eyes told you he was one hundred percent sober and remembered everything from the previous hours. 

“Morning,” you give him a small smile before sneaking past him. You needed him to tell you why he had been keeping a huge secret like that from you for so long but facing him only made you want to run and hide. This whole time he’s known you, he’s liked you? You weren’t mad over the fact that he had feelings for you. You were pissed he didn’t have the balls to tell you. You always vowed to keep zero secrets in your friendship, so it felt like betrayal. 

‘Hey,” he calls out as you turn the corner to his bedroom. You can hear his bare feet hitting the ground as he picks up his pace to reach you. Once he appears in the doorway of his bedroom, his body brings him to a halt, “are you, like, mad I told you?” You watch as he scratches the back of his neck in a nervous manner. Matt lets his eyes bounce around the room, almost like a child not wanting to look their discipliner in the eyes. You let out a sign, knowing it was stupid to be mad at a sweet face like that, “no, I’m mad you didn’t tell me.”

“Sorry,” he runs a hand through his hair, “I thought it was obvious.” It was very clear Matt was no longer drunk. His words weren't slurred, and his face told you he was fighting a mean hangover. You felt bad but one hangover wasn’t nearly enough of an excuse. He had been hiding his true feelings for over a year. 

You couldn’t keep that big of a secret from him if you tried and it made you wonder if you really even knew Matt. “I don’t know how you’d think that, Matt,” you sit on his bed, knitting your brows together, and crossing your arms over your chest.

Watching as Matt fidgets, picking at the skin on his fingers, “I don’t know. I guess I just did,” he lets his head hang low, not meeting your eyes once.

“Matt,” you keep your tone soft, convincing him to look at you, “come sit with me.” You pat the seat next to you and he reluctantly moves towards the bed, making sure not to sit too close. Sighing at him, “I just wish you would’ve told me sooner.”

In the last year and a half, Matt had seen you with numerous hookups and random tinder dates, and you told him about all of it. You were a very detailed person, so you made sure your best friend knew everything. It wasn’t just letting him know how it went, you told him if the sex was good, you told him if you liked the guy or not. Thinking back on it, the only detail Matt was really interested in was if you were going to be seeing the guy again. Your answer was always no, nobody sparked your interest enough to keep them around. Unlike Matt who definitely did the first time you met him. You were always into Matt, but you had never known a man not to make the first move on you. So, when Matt didn’t initiate anything more than a friendship, you kept it at that, not wanting to force the idea of a hookup or anything more on him.

“I was going to, but I didn’t know how,” he keeps his gaze fixated on his feet. Finally clearing his throat, “by the time I got the courage to, we had been friends for a while. I don’t know, I figured you weren’t into me like that,” he rambles on, not letting his eyes meet yours. Redness shows on your face, “I mean when we first met, yeah.” 

Your words make Matt pick his head up. His eyes meet yours and he opens his mouth to speak, “but not now?” You could tell by the tender look on his face that your next words were going to make or break him. You suck in a breath, “I didn’t say that Matt.” His face twists in disapproval of your words, “then what are you saying?” his voice comes out a bit stronger than before.

“I’m saying you should’ve told me you liked me when you met me or made a move. You could’ve given me a hint, but you hid it from me instead. That’s bullshit Matt,” your words spewing out like venom. Matt opens his mouth to talk but you hold a finger up, “a year and a half! We’re best fucking friends! You could’ve flirted with me, you could’ve told me, Matt. Fuck, you could’ve kissed me, and I wouldn’t have-,” before you have the chance to lecture him anymore, Matt gets the sudden courage to press his lips to yours softly. Your rambling being the main encouragement for him. His lips move against your slowly, like he’s savoring every millisecond. Matt had been waiting so long for this exact moment. His hands travel up your thighs to pull you closer to him, all while his head spins from having you so close, closer than you’ve ever been before. 

Matt taking control of the kiss told you how desperate he was for it to happen. It was out of character for him to take the lead in any situation. Matt trails his tongue across the bottom of your lip, and you allow him access. The slow and sensual kiss rapidly turns into a heated one as your tongues fight for dominance against each other. It seems like hours before you decide you don't want to take it too far too soon, pulling away from his lips and staring up at him. His flustered expression matches yours.

You watch as he gazes at you, his eyes filled with passion. Suddenly, it seemed like you and Matt switched places, leaving you nervous and him more confident than ever. You suck in a breath, “I didn’t know you were such a good kisser.”

“There’s lots you don’t know about me, Y/n/n,” a sly grin pulls at his lips, and he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “And I’d tell you everything if you’d let me,” his tone was convincing like he was trying to persuade you somehow. Matt didn’t know you had already made your mind up when he was passed out cold next to you - you wanted more than a friendship with Matt.

"I do have one question," you blurt out. There were so many questions burning a hole through your brain. His confession had your mind spinning in loops, and the kiss only made it more surreal. Matt raises his eyebrows, telling you to continue, "what did you mean when you said it was your plan, that everyone knew?"

Your question makes heat flow to his cheeks, "It was obvious, Y/n. They figured it out a couple months in." It made sense, they knew him better than anyone else.

"Well, you didn't have to get completely shitfaced just to tell me," you tease at him. Your mood was a lot more playful now that you and Matt talked it out. It felt like a million pounds had been lifted off your shoulders as soon as he kissed you.

A smirk pulls at Matt's lips as his face goes back to its original color, "liquid courage," he tells you, shrugging.

You let out a giggle, a laugh from him following quickly after, "next time I want to know your secrets, I'm feeding you Tito's all night long." Hearing the name of the liquor makes Matt's head throb, "never again," he groans before letting his body fall back onto the mattress.

[act-nat-ural]

Gifts (And Feelings) Exchanged

When the Karasuno boys’ volleyball team decided to organize a Secret Santa, you were initially excited. You love the players and your fellow managers, and you were looking forward to picking something out for them. That was, until you picked Tsukishima’s name out of the hat.

You gulp and give a nervous smile before walking back and sitting down next to Yachi. She gives you a sheepish smile.

“Do you already have an idea of what you’re going to get him?” she asks.

You groan internally. “Zero clue.”

She raises her brows in surprise. “Really? I would’ve thought otherwise, considering you’ve been on the team longer than me. N-Not that I meant that in a bad way!” She starts to apologize, but you cut her off.

“It’s okay—it’s just…” You groan. “I don’t even know what he likes.” She hums thoughtfully. “Wanna see who I got?”

“You don’t have to show me—” she starts, but you hand over the slip of paper.

She lets out a quiet “Ohhh.”

“Yeah, I see the dilemma.”

You and Kei had a… certain relationship, to say the least. You provide him with minor feedback; he calls you rude names. It’s all very pleasant. The worst part of it all is, you love the banter. At first, you dreaded practice, but over time, you started looking forward to seeing his stupid, gorgeous face. You think Tadashi might be onto you, too, because last week, when he and Kei started to walk off, he turned and gave you a thumbs-up for some reason. Weird.

You sigh again and stare at Kei’s name on the paper. “What to get you?” you mutter.

Kei hated buying gifts for people. It felt much too personal—especially when it was for people he hardly knew. He could stomach buying a birthday present for his family or maybe Tadashi, but his teammates? No thanks. When he drew your name out of the cheaply made Santa hat, he frowned. He crumpled the paper and immediately walked back to sit next to Tadashi.

“Who’d you get, Tsukki?” Tadashi asked.

“That would defeat the whole purpose of the ‘secret’ in Secret Santa, Tadashi,” Kei replied snarkily.

As Tadashi starts rambling on about what he’s thinking of getting Hinata, Kei’s mind begins to drift—specifically, to his favorite manager. While he would rather die than admit it, he truly enjoyed the banter between the two of you. At first, you were a bit shy and didn’t want to talk back to him, but over time, you started giving him hell. And he loved every second of it.

“Tsukki? Are you thinking about—”

A quick smack shuts Tadashi up.

“Shush,” Kei mutters.

As the days go by, both you and Kei find yourselves with a bit of a problem. Trying to find the perfect gift for each other is harder than either of you expected, especially since you’re both determined not to go the predictable route. You’d die before giving him something as generic as a water bottle or some volleyball gear—Kei deserves something personal, even if he’d never admit to liking it.

Finally, after a lot of thought (and some input from Yachi and Tadashi), you settle on a gift: a small, framed photo of the team celebrating their last win, with Kei in the background, a hint of a smile on his face. You remember catching that rare moment and thinking how nice it would be to remind him of it. You also throw in a mini potted cactus, with a tiny note that says, “Even prickly plants can grow if you give them some light.” You can’t help but laugh at the idea, knowing he’ll probably roll his eyes at the cheesy note, but maybe… just maybe, he’ll like it.

Meanwhile, Kei is just as stuck. He considers a sarcastic, borderline rude gift but somehow can’t bring himself to go through with it. Instead, he finds himself at a music store, almost embarrassed as he searches for something you’d like. Finally, he picks out a simple pair of high-quality earbuds, with a note that says, “For when you need to block out annoying people.” He cringes at his own softness but tells himself it’s fine. It’s practical, he reasons. Nothing more.

The day of the Secret Santa gift exchange arrives, and you’re doing your best to act casual as you hand Kei his present. He takes it with an unreadable look on his face, his usual cool and indifferent expression firmly in place.

As he opens it, you see his lips twitch upward for just a second at the sight of the cactus and the note. But he quickly clears his throat, trying to play it off as uninteresting. “Very… thoughtful,” he says, not meeting your gaze. His eyes linger on the photo frame for a moment, and you’re almost sure he’s touched, even if he won’t say it.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, crossing your arms and looking away to hide your own embarrassment. “Don’t get too sentimental on me, Tsukishima.”

“Please. I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, though you both know he’s trying not to smile.

Then, it’s your turn. Kei hands you a small box, and you open it to find the earbuds. At first, you blink in surprise, then read his note and can’t help laughing. It’s such a Tsukishima thing to say, and somehow, that makes it all the more endearing.

“Thanks, Kei,” you say, softening a bit as you look up at him. “I’ll make sure to use them when you’re being especially irritating.”

He smirks. “That’s probably wise.”

There’s a beat of silence, and both of you look away, unsure of what to say next. Practice is wrapping up, and everyone else is getting ready to leave. You clear your throat and try to act nonchalant.

“So, uh… do you want to grab something to eat after this?” you ask, trying to sound as casual as possible. “I mean, since we’re… already here and all.”

Kei’s eyebrows raise, and for a split second, he looks genuinely surprised. But he quickly regains his composure, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Sure,” he says with a shrug. “I guess I could tolerate your company a little longer.”

You roll your eyes, smiling. “How generous of you.”

As you both head out together, walking a little closer than usual, you feel a warmth in your chest that has nothing to do with the winter cold. You both can’t help but be happy with what your secret santa got you- somebody to be with.

note: i know it’s early november but i want it to be christmas already 😭

[stepfordboys]

Chris Is Gone

John hadn't seen his boyfriend, Chris, in days, he just seemed to vanish. He tried calling Chris but his number no longer worked; it had been seemingly discontinued. He contacted the police but they were no help, as expected. He reached out to his boyfriend's family but they were just as in the dark as he was. He searched high and low, hoping to eventually find him, but to no avail.

That was until one gloomy overcast day, right as John was about to lose all hope, Chris was finally found in the most unusual of places: the beach. John never thought to look there because Chris hated the beach, but there he was.

What should have been a happy reunion was nothing but utter confusion for Chris didn't seem to recognize John, having zero memory of him or their relationship. Even odder, Chris seemed put off by the notion of being in a relationship with a man, utterly confusing John further. That was when Chris, or Christopher as he kept putting it, revealed he was not only straight but had a wife and a baby boy on the way. John was flabbergasted, a total Twilight Zone moment. John wasn't mistaken, though; it was Chris—he was sure of himself.

However, even in his self-assurance, John couldn't help but ponder on Chris's drastic change in appearance and attitude. Chris's long shaggy hair was cut short and styled more traditionally. His piercings were gone. His tattoo was gone. A perfect tan over his once-pale skin. His basic button-up shirt was far from what the old Chris would have worn, favoring more punk-styled clothing. Above all was Chris's bright new smile, perfectly white and, just like his new sexuality, perfectly straight. He was from the mopey punk John once fell in love with, completely transformed.

He really wasn't Chris, even though John knew it was. John stood there, in utter heartbreak, painfully watching Christopher walk off with his pregnant wife. Chris was gone, replaced with Christopher. John didn't know how or why but that was what happened, he felt it deep down.

[awhoreintheory]

okay so MCU canon Peter in DC is all funny and games but what about comic canon Peter? Peter who’s in his 30s, whose life is falling apart(again) and has clones to deal with(man I hate the fact that Ben became evil :(.)

extra points if Miles and/or Mayday is with him. This single dad is STRUGGLING. And the bats wanna help him/his kids cause man! Look at them :(

(extra extra points if Dick = Richard Parker. That’s a whole nother can of worms. Like the bats are thinking Peter = Family of Dick they didn’t know but NO! It’s actually Dick’s son! Dicks a granddad!)

I want to PSA to anyone sending asks/requests, I'm not ignoring you!! I'm just a slow writer!!! I hope you enjoy though <33

Peter B. Parker could, 100%, picture landing in (yet another) alternate universe. You know what? As a matter of fact, he expected it.

What he didn’t plan for, however, was being stranded in another universe with his baby girl strapped to his chest. 

But here he was, crouched in a narrow alley in the darkest corner of Gotham City, New Jersey. From the name alone, Peter knew he landed himself in a section of the Multiverse Miguel had expressly labeled as off limits. It wasn’t his fault he’d landed here, though!

One minute he’d been web-swinging through New York, enjoying a rare peaceful day with Mayday babbling happily, and the next he was crash-landing onto a grimy rooftop in the most dangerous city he’d ever seen. It was like New York turned up to eleven, all shadows and towering gargoyles, dripping with rain that seemed perpetual. The interdimensional bracelet he’d been given to travel the multiverse was sparking and smoking in his pocket— total toast. He was officially stranded. 

Ok, so it maybe, kinda sorta, been an eensy weensy, tiny bit Peter’s fault. 

Peter’s, very high-tech and likely expensive bracelet had been, uh, scratched in a fight the day before. Barely even a nick! He swears he could’ve reattached the wires and fixed the screen. 

He probably should’ve also taken the watch out of his robe pocket before he started swinging Mayday to daycare. 

MJ was going to be so mad. 

It became evident early on it’d take a little bit to find a way home, or for someone to find him. If it had just been Peter, he could’ve roughed it on some rooves and abandoned buildings. It wouldn’t be a big deal, he knew he would be getting home eventually. Being a little smelly was the least of his worries. 

But he had his baby girl with him. 

So, with the money in his wallet, he found an under-the-counter, rundown but otherwise warm, apartment in a place called Crime Alley. (What a seriously terrible name) Peter started pulling together whatever side gigs he could, fixing appliances, tuning up electronics, just enough to get by. Even for a guy who was used to scraping by, the situation felt bleak, especially with Mayday depending on him. 

His little red-headed whirlwind was still too young to understand what was happening, but she noticed the tension and started clinging to him more tightly. Peter knew he couldn’t keep this up forever, but he wasn’t sure how to trust anyone in a city that had both criminals and vigilantes lurking around every corner. When he spotted someone in a cape swinging overhead, he instinctively hid in the shadows, holding Mayday close, her tiny face tucked into his shoulder.

But the Bats noticed him. 

It was hard not to notice a single dad with no records, no job, and no explanation for why he was squatting in Gotham’s most dangerous neighborhood. Bruce, ever vigilant, put out word to the family to keep an eye on him. 

Jason, who patrolled Crime Alley, wasn’t thrilled about the idea. “A guy moved into my turf with a baby?” he grumbled to Tim. “Either he’s got a death wish, or he’s crazy.” 

Tim, on the other hand, was fascinated by the mystery. He dug through every database he had access to, and then some. But “Peter Parker” returned zero results— at least, none that matched this Peter Parker. no criminal record, no birth record, no online footprint. It was like he just spawned in! 

Dick didn’t have a whole lot of opinions. He thought the man was nice, though he had only met him once in a routine mugging. He evidently cared for his daughter, and matched Nightwing’s wit and humor pretty nicely, too. He looked annoyingly familiar too. Maybe it was Tired Dad Chic? He kind of reminded him of Bruce, in a way. 

Steph seconded the funny part. This Peter guy could be one of those dark-humor comedians. 

From what they observed, and conversations supplied by Jason (who was his neighbor in a series of fortunate events), Peter really did seem to just be an ordinary guy.  

Then one night, Peter was picking up groceries from a corner store when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find a man in a ski mask brandishing a knife, gesturing for his wallet. 

“Hand over the money, and I won’ hurt ya’ kid.” The man threatened, waving his knife around threateningly. Peter tensed, dropping his groceries in favor of cradling Mayday closer. 

Peter blinked at him tiredly. “The best I can offer is some lint and a can of beans.” 

The man tensed, stepping closer in an attempt at intimidation. Peter thought that his face turning red with anger was kind of funny.

“Don’t fuckin’— are you makin’ fun of me?” The man fumed. Peter might have let out a sleep-deprived chuckle, partially forgetting to respond. 

The mugger lunged, and before he could dodge, Peter felt a searing pain in his side as the blade plunged in, his vision blurring with the shock. Normally, Peter would’ve disarmed the guy without breaking a sweat, but tonight, with Mayday in his arms and his body worn from days of restless sleep, he kind of just… blinked and the knife was there. 

Peter blinked again, then looked back up at the man.

“Oh, wow,” he said, his voice dripping with deadpan sarcasm. “A knife in Crime Alley? Super original. Really, I’m honored to be a part of your creative process.”

The mugger blinked, clearly caught off guard. Peter rolled his eyes, adjusting Mayday to better apply pressure to his side. “Next time you stab a guy, maybe aim for someone with insurance.”

The mugger stumbled back, looking increasingly confused by Peter’s lack of fear. Peter sighed, bouncing Mayday gently as she began to fuss. “Listen, I’m already running on no sleep and the caffeine fumes of yesterday’s coffee. And now you’re just making my night even worse.”

Peter winced, feeling the slow but consistent leak of blood. His healing factor was helping, but it was dulled due to lack of sleep and hunger. 

Between one long blink and the next, someone had jumped down and knocked out Peter’s would-be mugger. 

After another blink Peter realized he was on the ground, Mayday’s wails filled the air, her cries echoing down the alleyway, and Peter tried to smile through the pain. “It’s okay, baby,” he mumbled, clutching her tightly. “Daddy’s fine… just a little… scratch.” But his vision was going hazy as he pressed a hand to his bleeding side. The world began to spin.

One of the vigilantes that Peter recognized as Red Robin rushed over, talking hurriedly into a comm. Peter blinked up at him, his mouth curling into a weak smile. “Hey, nice costume,” he muttered. “Does the utility belt come in dad sizes?” 

Red Robin blinked in surprise, but otherwise keept his focus as he worked to stop the bleeding.

“It doesn’t, unfortunately.” Red Robin offered, popping open his emergency med kit. “I’ve got help on the way, ok? Stay awake for me.” But his attention was snagged when Mayday, overcome with distress, reached out to him, her tiny hands gripping his arm. She wasn’t just clutching it— she was sticking to him, her fingers locked like suction cups on his suit. Tim’s eyes widened as she scrambled up his arm, scaling it like a bug on a wall. 

Red Robin took it in stride, scooping Mayday up as he continued to work. Peter had been on the Meta radar for a bit— a few things here and there just a little off, and it was mostly based on Red Robin’s time spent with super-powered individuals. 

But as he patched up Peter, he discreetly swiped a sample of blood, stashing it in his belt just as the Batmobile pulled up. 

—

Later that night, he ran the sample through the Batcomputer, expecting some small lead. A Meta, possibly insect-based? What with how the kid had stuck to him. Instead, the results left Tim absolutely speechless. 

Peter Parker, the man who was in his early 40s and a single father, didn’t just match someone in the system— it matched Dick Grayson.

Not as a brother, or a cousin, but as a son. 

Tim must’ve ran the test at least 100 times. It came back the same every single time. 

Tim called Bruce and the rest of the family, each of them crowding around the screen with varying levels of shock and amusement as the analysis rolled in. Dick was dumbfounded, staring at the results in disbelief. 

“You’re telling me this guy is my… son?” he stammered, struggling to wrap his mind around it. 

Bruce, socially unaware in all his glory, tried to comfort Dick. “He’s likely from far into the future. Barry said there was a ripple in the timestream around the time Peter showed up.” 

“So what does that make Mayday?” Jason asked, snickering. 

“His granddaughter?” Steph said with a teasing grin. 

“Wow, Dick. You went from a dad to a grandpa in the same minute.” 

“That’s gotta be a world record.”

“You think we can submit this for a Guinness World Record?”

Dick groaned, rubbing his temples as Jason laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. 

“He’s from the future, right? Something must’ve gone wrong on his end," Tim said, folding his arms with a thoughtful look. "He’s definitely got the skills. Moves like you, Dick. It's obvious he's had training.”

Dick couldn't help but smirk, puffing up a little with pride. “Of course he does. He’s got Grayson blood in him, after all.”

Jason snorted. “Yeah, because the whole ‘falling on his face with a baby strapped to him’ bit? So graceful.”

Tim rolled his eyes, trying to stay on track. “Look, I don’t know why he didn’t come to us for help in the first place, but the point is, he’s family. We should get him back to his time, if that’s even possible.” He looked over to Bruce. “Are any speedsters available? Maybe the League could lend us Wally or Barry—"

“Hold on,” Dick interrupted, frowning. “I’m not sure we’re ready to ship him off just yet. The guy’s been trying to make it on his own. He’s got a baby to look after, and I think he’s afraid of dragging us into whatever’s going on with him. You know this family and their pride.”

Damian, who had been silent up to this point, finally piped up, his arms crossed. “I’ve seen him with the baby. She’s… persistent.” There was an almost begrudging respect in his tone. “But he clearly doesn’t have the resources to keep her safe here. If he did, he wouldn’t be living in Crime Alley.”

Dick nodded. “Exactly. The guy’s holding it together with duct tape and dad jokes. We can help him and get him back on his feet while we figure out a way home.”

Bruce, listening intently, finally spoke up. “He’s right. Until we find a way to get him home, Peter and his daughter stay here. We’ll pull together whatever resources we can to help them both.” 

Steph and Tim shared a look. He just wanted to meet his grandson and great-granddaughter. 

There was a beat of silence as everyone absorbed the decision, and then Tim looked at Dick, a small smirk playing on his lips. “So… you ready to be a dad, Dick?”

Dick flushed, looking a mix of horrified and pleased. “I’ll just stick to ‘Uncle Dick’ for now. Baby steps.”

EXTRA:

“Hey,” Jason drawled, barely suppressing a smirk as he looked over at Dick, “you think we can submit this for a Guinness World Record? Fastest unplanned parenthood, or maybe most confusing family reunion?”

Dick rolled his eyes but couldn’t quite hide his grin. “Very funny, Jay. Maybe we can submit you for most inappropriate comments per minute.”

Jason chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Just saying, man, it’s impressive. One day you’re Nightwing, lone acrobat extraordinaire, and the next? Boom— you’re the proud father of a scruffy, interdimensional— what'd you say it was, Tim? Spider-dad? A Spider-dad.”

Tim snickered, glancing up from his laptop. “We’re all just living in a 'Strangest Family Reunion’ reality show at this point. Besides, if anyone’s submitting to Guinness, it should be Peter for most relentless optimism under terrible circumstances.”

Bruce cleared his throat, giving them all a look. “Enough. This isn’t a joke. We have a situation to handle here.”

Dick, still grinning, turned back to Bruce. “All right, fine, we’ll save the record-breaking for later. Right now, I say we start by finding this guy and getting him some real help.”

[sufferu]

Okay, so. This is actually a rather big spoiler for No Refunds, so imma need all of you to hush up about this one when it comes to the current main fic ;)

Anyway — here’s the first draft of a very essential upcoming scene, for all those who wish to see it.

No Refunds Ficlet: March Away From Omelas

____

The five Royal Selection Camps met inside City Hall. Crusch Karsten, flanked by Ferris Argyle and Wilhelm van Astrea. Felt, attended by Rachins, Gaston, Camberley, and the Sword Saint himself. Anastasia Hoshin, with her personal knight and the Captain and Vice Captains of the Iron Fang. Priscilla Barielle, who had elected to witness the ensuing spectacle alone. And of course — Lady Emilia herself, with Beatrice, Otto, Garfiel, and the Oni twins all standing by her side. With a singular exception, nobody else was allowed within the building: they were alone.

That singular exception stood in the middle of the room, of whom a decision now had to be made.

“…I didn’t do anything wrong,” Natsuki Subaru said uncertainly. Why were they all looking at him like that? He wanted to take a step back, but managed to resist the urge just barely. “Priestella is saved now, isn’t it? And— we’ve taken care of five Archbishops of Sin.”

He was objectively correct, about both of those things. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, the Battle of Priestella had ended with zero casualties thanks to his contributions. There had been structural damage to the buildings of the city, sure, and there had been injuries here and there — bruises, gashes, broken bones — but nothing that had been lethal, and likely nothing that was going to be permanent. And of the five Sin Archbishops that had attempted to siege the city — one was dead, and the other four had been successfully captured, awaiting transport to the capital of Lugunica. Nothing like this had ever been accomplished in recorded history. In every sense of the word, Subaru had pulled off a miracle.

But in order to do it, he had—

“How many times?” Julius croaked. Subaru glanced his way, and froze at the look of devastation on his face. “Subaru — how many times was it?”

“I—” Subaru broke off. There was a long, long silence as everyone waited for him to answer. “…Does it matter?” he finally retorted. “I think the results speak for themselves, don’t they? Everyone’s safe, and everyone’s happy! Isn’t that the only thing that really matters, in the end?”

Otto made an indecipherable noise. Nobody looked at him.

“You didn’t answer us,” Wilhelm growled. The raw anger in his voice made Subaru stiffen. “How many times was it?”

When Subaru didn’t answer, everyone knew it was because he didn’t know.

“What a boorish question,” Priscilla scoffed. She was the only one there who looked relaxed, fanning her face gently as she peered at the lot of them from the side of the room. “Subaru saw that there was danger and rose to the challenge. If he bled for it in the meanwhile, what does it matter?”

“‘What does it matter?’” Felt repeated, her quiet voice already glittering with the warning sparks of her growing rage. “Big Bro just — killed himself, again and again, for OUR sakes, and — and ‘What does it matter?’”

“For Subaru, the ultimate sacrifice is a thing that he can make as many times as he wishes, as a means to an end,” Priscilla answered. “He can accomplish great things with his ability. He HAS accomplished great things, even. If I were his liege, I would be rewarding him for his accomplishments, not stifling his potential.”

“‘Stifling his potential’?” Felt repeated, disbelief coloring her voice red. “You’d call him — him DYING, again and again — you’d call it POTENTIAL?”

“Has he not allowed you to witness a miracle, peasant?” Priscilla returned. “Through his efforts, he has brought about a solution that would otherwise never have come to fruition. This is a thing to celebrate, is it not?”

“It is absolutely not!” Mimi cried out. “Mimi didn’t want this! Mimi didn’t want to survive because — because someone did THIS for her sake!”

Felt took a deep breath, clearly trying to maintain her composure. “…Subaru,” she said, directing her words towards the focus of the conversation. “Do you really think that winning the fight today was worth — this?”

Subaru stared back at her like she had grown a second head. “Of COURSE it was,” he scoffed, as if it were the obvious answer. “I’m just one person, and — not even a particularly valuable one at that.” From the corner of the room, Otto stared at him with growing despair. He didn’t even notice. “Sure, it — it sucked a lot, but I did it, and now everyone’s fine! So of course it was worth it.”

Felt swallowed, trying her hardest not to scream. She folded her hands in front of her — a practiced motion, one Reinhard had instilled into her through hours and hours of those stupid etiquette lessons. “And…” she faltered. “And you would do it again, if you felt that it was necessary.”

Subaru visibly flinched at the suggestion, but quickly moved to answer her. “O-Of course I would!” he insisted, his eyes darting around. Nearby, Crusch and Reinhard both stared at something that nobody else could see. “I—I AM still a knight, you know. It’s a knight’s JOB to put others before themselves. And…” He swallowed. “I know I’m not good at it, but if I try hard enough — well. My…circumstances…I mean — I’m in the perfect position to put others before me, right?”

“Because you never have to stop doing it,” Julius realized. “Because even if you die — you don’t have to stop.”

Subaru didn’t realize the surge of devastated nausea that such a realization had inspired in the gut of the Finest of Knights. “Exactly!” he crowed. “That’s exactly right! You see?”

Someone made a horrible strangled sound. Nobody knew who it was, and everyone was too focused on the matter at hand to find out, anyway.

“And if we’re not okay with it?” Felt pressed, trying to ignore the hole that was widening in her gut. “If we don’t want any part of — of an exchange like that?”

“…That’s ridiculous,” Subaru scoffed. “Why would anyone not — want to live? That’s stupid.”

“Why indeed,” Ricardo muttered.

“Maybe it’s not that — that someone doesn’t want to live,” Crusch said, her voice tense. “Maybe it’s that someone doesn’t want their life to be saved through…” She shook her head. “Maybe they consider — other things, to be more important.”

“Like what?” Subaru retorted.

“Honor, maybe,” Crusch said. “Ethics. Dignity. Integrity. Any of the things of which a loss would turn a person into a dog. …You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Valuing the alleviation of momentary suffering over a perfect ending is the way of dogs,” Priscilla replied, her eyes glinting. “If momentary suffering is necessary for a perfect ending, then to undergo it for the sake of fulfilling his duty — that is the sign of a wonderful knight.”

“There are limits,” Felt forced out through gritted teeth. “To what level of ‘momentary suffering’ is acceptable. Not that I’d expect YOU to understand that.”

“Lady Felt—”

“Don’t!” Felt snapped. Reinhard stopped. “Just— don’t. Not now.”

“I’d say it’s a perfectly acceptable level of suffering!” Subaru retorted, raising his voice. “I’m the only one who has to go through it, so I’m the one who gets to decide what’s acceptable, right? That’s how it works!”

“No the FUCK it’s not!” Rachins bellowed, taking a step forward. Reinhard quickly grabbed his wrist, preventing him from marching over to punch Subaru in the face. Rachins didn’t even glance back at him, fixated solely on the object of his rage. “You don’t get it make a choice like THAT when you— when you’re planning something THAT HORRIBLE!” he spat. “Who the fuck would be alright with this?! Just one ultimate sacrifice is hard enough to stomach, but — you can’t even tell us how many times it was! How am I supposed to go forward when I know you— YOU—”

“You might have DIED if I didn’t do anything!” Subaru protested. “If it was you or me— even if I had to choose all of you hundreds of times over, then—”

“How was it your place to make that decision for us?!” Anastasia burst out, uncharacteristically emotional. She hadn’t looked this way even back at the inn. “I didn’t want this!” she cried. “I didn’t consent to this! I never wanted to be complicit in something this awful, and here YOU went and made the choice to — to repeatedly sacrifice yourself for all of us regardless! I didn’t WANT you to do this for me!”

“We weren’t able to do anything,” Ferris managed, white as a sheet. He was gripping his head. “We weren’t able to stop nyew at all. And nyew didn’t stop nyerself, either: the first thing nyew decided to do when the Witch Cult attacked was…” Ferris fixed his gaze on Subaru, glassy with panic and devastation. “So long as nyer a knight, and protecting the country is nyer job— we won’t be able to stop nyew at— at all—”

“Oh like that’s any different than what Reinhard is doing,” Subaru retorted. “What, so him being unstoppable in his role as a Sword Saint is fine, but me using my own ability to act as a knight is crossing a line? How is THAT fair?”

Reinhard flinched violently, taking a step backwards.

“How DARE you make a comparison like that?!” Felt spat, finally snapping and raising her voice to a roar. “HOW DARE YOU?! You wanna know what the difference is, Subaru?! Reinhard being the Sword Saint doesn’t mean we’re all dooming him to fucking KILL HIMSELF for our sakes!”

“I can’t believe you would even SUGGEST such a thing,” Julius snarled, uncharacteristically vicious. “The role of the Sword Saint is a heavy one, yes, but it isn’t in any way the same thing as someone sentencing himself to execution after execution for the rest of —” Could Subaru die a natural death? He didn’t even want to THINK about the concept of an eternity trapped in a fate like this. “— of his natural life! You absolute— how could you even consider—?!”

Reinhard was not allowed to wish for his role as the Sword Saint to be taken away from him. Wishing for for such a thing was as good as poisoning his mind against the kingdom itself. In any case, nobody could ever strip him of his title even if they wanted to: nobody was more suited to the role of the Sword of the Kingdom than Reinhard van Astrea.

But now, he realized with a bolt of absolute clarity— now he was on the outside, looking in. Subaru wasn’t wrong about his curse positioning him in a manner that made him uniquely suited for the role of a knight. But if they allowed him to take that position up once again—

Reinhard thought of himself, and how he was never going to escape his title. He thought of Subaru, who was inches away from thrusting himself into the same position. He thought of an old story about his grandmother and grandfather, and how — just once — a Sword Saint had been set free.

“Subaru—” He tried to say, stepping forward, but Wilhelm held out his arm before anyone else could see what he was doing. Reinhard glanced his way, and saw ice blue eyes glimmering with the conviction of tempered steel.

—Reinhard understood. He stepped back to where he had been a second before.

…He likely wouldn’t have been allowed to be the one to do so anyway. Reinhard van Astrea could not act against the good of the kingdom, no matter who got hurt in the process.

Julius was still speaking. “How do you not understand?!” he shouted, his eyes blazing. “You seem to be thinking of this as— as some sort of— you just don’t get it, do you?! Do you have any idea how—” Horrified. Disgusted. Devastated. Mortified. “—how ANGRY we are with you right now?”

“I mean, I’d probably do it anyway!” Subaru pointed out, folding his arms stubbornly. “Whether I have the title or not, I’m always gonna want to help the people around me, right? You can’t stop me from doing THAT.”

The temperature of the room dropped significantly. Subaru’s eyes widened, his arms springing up to wrap around his chest at the sudden chill. A couple of pairs of eyes flickered to Emilia, who sat motionless in her seat.

“…For nyer own sake,” Ferris hissed, one of those in the room that was utterly unaffected by this cold air. He looked very much like he wanted to murder Subaru on the spot. “I am going to assume that was nyer misguided attempt at cracking a JOKE. But on the off-chance that nyew were being serious, I can assure nyew: we have ways of keeping people alive against their will if nyeed be.” He grinned, his face so sour it looked like it might curdle milk. “Nyew’ve seen me deal with suicidal Witch Cult prisonyers, Subaru-kyun. Do nyew think I’m above treating nyew the way I treated them?”

Subaru took a step back.

“Ignoring the absolutely disgusting moral implications of what you just suggested you planned on doing to yourself for the rest of your life,” Julius said coldly, eyes fixed on Subaru’s face. “You do realize that you just threatened ALL OF US, by saying that you would use time travel to bend reality to your heart’s content regardless of how we feel about it — do you not?” Subaru flinched. “I assumed you were better than that.” Julius rolled his shoulder. “But Ferris is right: if you are NOT better than that, then we can find a way to make sure we don’t have to worry about you deciding to reverse time behind everyone’s backs.”

“The lot of you are being ridiculous,” Priscilla scoffed. “Your wonderful knight saved an entire city almost single-handedly, and you wish to remove him from his post? Sacrifice is a part of life. If you can’t stomach the sacrifice necessary to feed the fire of life, then you are unfit to stand in the light of mine gaze.”

“There’s a fucking limit to the kind of sacrifices a reasonable person should accept!” Felt shot back. “Not like you’d understand a thing about being reasonable, you— you MONSTER. How can you talk about someone ripping himself apart so flippantly?!”

“If ripping oneself apart is what a person wishes to do, then I shall not stand in their way.” She smiled. “Just as there is beauty in war, there is beauty in sacrifice — or in this case, the dance of eternal sacrifice, in service of the greater good.” The Sun Princess frowned down at Felt, who was staring at her with a look of horrified disbelief. “It is not Subaru’s fault if a peasant like you cannot handle how he chooses to live and die,” she said coldly. “If he has made his choice, then he has made it so.”

“That’s vile…” Felt choked out. “Even for you, that is VILE.”

“Personal autonomy has limits,” Crusch said coldly. “If a man’s personal autonomy involves harming others, then he must be stopped. Likewise, if it involves him ripping himself apart, then we have a moral duty to stand in his way. — Especially if he has the gall to declare that it is for OUR sakes.”

“As a knight of Lugunica, I understand the nobility of sacrifice,” Julius said. He did not flinch as Priscilla turned to watch him, nor did he look her in the eye. “But as a knight, I understand the weight of it, as well. Giving up one’s life for a cause is one of the heaviest sacrifices one can make — and it is exactly because of that, that I cannot stand for someone who plans to make that sacrifice so many times in repetition.” He turned to face Subaru, alone in the center of the room, and took a deep breath. “In saving Priestella from the Witch Cult, Natsuki Subaru has fulfilled his duty as a knight once and for all,” Julius declared. “He has made the ultimate sacrifice, and he has done so — many, many times over. Allowing him to continue to do so for the sake of this country would damage the worth of the entire nation, and I refuse to stand for it. That’s all I have to say.”

“I stand by my knight,” Anastasia announced, stepping forward. “We are not animals, and I refuse to live as an animal by depending on someone to harm themselves for me in perpetuity — and I refuse to allow my country to do such a thing, either. And I am no longer willing to wait two years for a decision to be made: Natsuki Subaru will be removed from his role today, or the Anastasia Camp will consider him and all of his allies its enemy.”

“The Iron Fang stands with its employer,” Ricardo added, his voice like steel. “But even without its relationship with the Anastasia Camp, I would never stand for something this disgusting, nor would any organization that I lead. And—” He shook his head, looking very much like he wanted to strangle someone. “And I’d HOPE that if — those who I care about — were thrown into a situation — like THIS — that the people they meet would have the basic decency to refuse the same.”

“Mimi hates this,” the eldest of the Pearlbaton triplets forced out, uncharacteristically enraged. She was scratching at the top of her head, yanking at her orange hair. “Mimi hates everything about this. How dare— how DARE you—”

“We want nothing to do with an arrangement like this,” Hetaro confirmed. “I don’t want to be saved by someone doing — this. It’s sick. I’d rather just die.”

“I don’t want to die,” Tivey muttered. “But if I were to live a life dependent on something like — THIS, I’d be no better than vermin. And I don’t want anyone forcing me into that role, either. We stand with our Lady.”

“The three of us might be vermin,” Rachins growled. “But even WE are above depending on an eternal living corpse for our lives and livelihoods. You can fuck right off with that, Subaru.”

“I wouldn’t call us vermin—” Camberley objected.

“All the more reason, then,” Gaston said firmly. “None of us are gonna accept something this — gross. Ever.”

“I agree with those idiots,” Felt snarled, stepping forward defiantly. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about ‘the greater good’: this is vile, and I would be utter scum if I rolled over and let things continue like this. Thank you for your service, Big Bro: now fuck ALL THE WAY off with this Unsung Hero bullshit.”

“My role as the Sword Saint is a duty granted to me by Od Laguna,” Reinhard managed, both outraged and devastated beyond words by the comparison. “It is a burden that I would not wish upon anyone, but the sole grace of my role is that I have been granted it specifically because my capabilities allow me to fulfill it without — undue sacrifice. For you to try and take something like it upon yourself through the use of a curse this vile…” He shook his head. “I will stand with whatever Lady Felt decides,” the Sword Saint said. “As she is against — everything about this — so am I.”

“Disgusting,” Ferris hissed, bristling. There were tears in his eyes. He shook his head, muttering the same word over and over again. “Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting — Nyatsuki Subaru, I hate nyew so, so much—!”

“To keep Natsuki Subaru as a knight after this would be considered the height of indecency,” Crusch declared. “That is where I stand, as do my Camp and my Estate. Lady Emilia, I must insist that you remove him from his position NOW, or I will render our alliance null and void. That is my ultimatum.”

“This— This really feels like an overreaction!” Subaru stammered, backing away from the sea of anger and devastation. “Didn’t everything work out alright, in the end? Wasn’t it worth it? One life in exchange for all of Priestella—”

“It wasn’t just one life, Subaru,” Ricardo spat. “It was one person, over and over again, who decided all on his own that we were the kinds of ANIMALS that would be absolutely fine resting our lives on — on a fucking monstrosity like that!“

“We didn’t even get a CHOICE in the matter,” Ferris cried. “Nyone of us did. “Nyew just went ahead and decided for nyerself that we’d all prefer this — this utter BULLSHIT.“

“Do you not get what an embarrassment this is?” Julius snapped. “For someone to have stepped in and decided on their own that they’re going to take all the suffering of — of the Royal Selection Camps, of the White Scales of Priestella, of EVERYONE who might have otherwise decided to fight back on their own accord — for them to have stolen that choice away and forced everyone else to accept not just one singular sacrifice, but a string of sacrifices so long that you haven’t even been able to tell us how many deaths make it up! It’s a humiliation of the highest order, because you just forced ALL OF US to be complacent in one of the most monstrous, inhuman scenarios I can imagine.“

“Fuck nyew,” Ferris breathed, looking like he was on the verge of passing out. “Fuck nyew, Subaru. Fuck nyew, fuck nyew, fuck nyew—”

“I really don’t think—!”

“How would you have felt,” Felt interrupted. “If Big Sis had done all of this on your behalf?” Subaru froze. She grinned at him, all teeth and no joy behind her smile. “You’d fucking hate it, right?” she asked cheerfully. “You’d scream, and you’d probably cry. You might even throw up, you’d feel so awful. And if she turned to you and said ‘But I gave you a miracle, aren’t you proud of me?’ I’ll bet you’d want to scream at her for it, too.” She leaned forward. “How DARE you do that to us.” Felt hissed. “How fucking dare you.”

“And to think!” Anastasia laughed. It was a venomous, bitter sound that made Subaru want to recoil. “To think, I actually was starting to believe the others’ insistence that you could be trusted to man your post responsibly!” She stared at him, eyes hard. “I was right about this whole situation from the start. Keeping you as a knight was a ridiculous notion, because — THIS — was always going to be the outcome, one way or another.”

Subaru was speechless. Slowly, with jerky movements, he twisted around to the one camp that had yet to make its final assertion.

“G-Guys…?” he managed.

“Cap—” Garfiel hesitated, and then shook his head. Subaru visibly wilted. “Natsuki Subaru can’t be a knight anymore,” he declared. “This is horrible. I didn’t want this. I never wanted anything like this. If I let him do this for — for MY sake, how could I ever look myself in the mirror again? …And I don’t think he’s ever gonna stop unless we force him away from the edge.”

“This is the absolute worst thing you could have done to me, Subaru,” Ram snapped. “I don’t know how you don’t understand that. I don’t WANT to persist via your acts of self-harm: I’m perfectly happy to live to the best of my ability and accept my death when my time has come to an end. A life of dignity is one that I desire most of all. —And here you are, planning to force me to rely on your trail of self-destruction for the rest of my natural life? That’s a vulgarity beyond words.”

“I really thought you had learned,” Otto muttered. His face was buried in his hands. “I really, really thought you had learned, Subaru.”

Despair slowly dawned across the face of the self-proclaimed knight.

“The old me might have allowed for this,” Rem admitted. Her voice was quiet and broken. “I am not that woman anymore. I won’t let you do this to yourself.”

“Betty doesn’t want her contractor to become a living corpse, I suppose,” Beatrice said quietly. “Betty wants you to be happy, but that also means that she doesn’t want you to destroy yourself. You can hate me for this if you want, Subaru. But I can’t let you — I can’t let you do this.”

Subaru stared at all of them, his upper lip wobbling, and then his eyes flitted to the last person in the room, the one who had not said a single thing since they had entered the building.

Emilia could not bring herself to voice the words, but her silence spoke a thousand in its stead. Subaru made a horrible croaking noise, wide-eyed and devastated.

Wilhelm had to force himself to speak, but when he did, his voice came out loud and clear and true.

“Natsuki Subaru.”

Subaru could no longer be a knight. For him to continue being a knight would be for him to continue to sacrifice himself for the sakes of those around him, over and over again, without regard for whether they wanted him to do so or not. For him to remain a knight would be for the kingdom to approve this cycle of endless self-destruction, so that it could profit off of his pain until the day it finally sucked him dry. —And this could no longer be a decision that waited a year, a month, a day, but rather a move that had to be made as quickly and decisively as possible.

Lady Emilia had already realized what Wilhelm was about to do. Her eyes were glassy and dull, but she bowed her head in assent when he briefly caught her gaze. Do what you must.

For his own good, Subaru could no longer be a knight. However, Emilia firing him after just a year of service would leave a black mark on his record that could last until the end of his life. And with him having saved the Watergate City nearly single-handedly, for him to willingly abandon his duty now would paint him as a fickle, untrustworthy coward for the rest of his life. Titles brought with them expectations and responsibilities, and great deeds even more so. Subaru had somehow entangled him in a web of both that threatened to trap him as the nation’s self-replenishing sacrifice for — in a worst-case scenario, perhaps for the rest of eternity.

“W-Wilhelm?” Subaru whimpered, his voice high-pitched and uncertain.

But there was a way to retire him that would not impact his reputation, or hamper him from pursuing any other future career path he may choose, or even leave him with the majority of the blame. It was the same way that, many years ago, a young man on a mission had set free the woman who would become his wife.

Subaru would hate him for this until the old man’s dying day, and perhaps even beyond that. But Wilhelm loved him, and that meant he valued the quality of the boy’s life more than he ever could his personal reputation in his eyes.

Priscilla realized what the Sword Demon was about to do moments before he opened his mouth again. She sighed, snapping her ruby red fan shut. The sound echoed through the room like a thunderclap.

“Natsuki Subaru,” Wilhelm Van Astrea declared. “Due to finding you unworthy to serve our nation as a knight of the Kingdom, I challenge you to a duel.”

*

Wilhelm had challenged Subaru to a duel over his position as a knight of the Kingdom. Subaru’s liege, Lady Emilia, had consented to such terms. If Subaru were to win, he would be allowed to remain where he was. If Wilhelm were to win, then Subaru would be forced to retire from his post — and in the eyes of the public, all the blame for his removal would rest squarely on Wilhelm’s shoulders.

Subaru, Wilhelm, and everyone witnessing the event knew what the outcome was going to be.

“What are you doing?!” an old lady cried from the stands. “What are you DOING?! He saved us — he saved all of our lives! Stop, STOP—!!”

“Natsuki Subaru-dono is a hero!” shouted a young man, hands clenching the rails. “Why are you doing this?! What did he do wrong?! He didn’t do ANYTHING, just LET HIM—!!”

“Wilhelm—” Subaru tried to plead, one last time.

Wilhelm met his gaze with one fierce enough to burn. “This is for your own good.”

Subaru swallowed, and raised his whip.

It only took three hits. The first smacked the handle of Subaru’s weapon with the flat of the blade, knocking it out of his hands and into the air, where it spiraled in an arc. The second whacked Subaru on the top of his head, stunning him hard enough to make him lose his balance. The third took advantage of this wrong-footedness by slamming into his chest, knocking him down on his back. Then the weight of the man’s knee settled against his chest, pinning him to the ground, with the edge of the blade grazing against his throat. And that was that.

“The winner,” Ferris announced, his voice muffled in Subaru’s ears. “Is Wilhelm van Astrea.”

It had not even lasted a full ten seconds. Those who watched would later describe it as Wilhelm scruffing him, much like one would a misbehaving puppy. Even the way he had pinned him to the ground had been careful, less like an actual fight and more like a sparring session between parent and child.

It was a duel far gentler and kinder than his previous with Julius. But the results were far graver in his eyes, for he had been successfully stripped of his title as a knight and reduced to simply being Natsuki Subaru.

[withahappyrefrain]

Can you please do meet cute 45) A owns a flower shop and B just needs the courage to go inside and say hello. For Rhett Abbott?

THIS ONE SCREAMS RHETT!! I'm so glad someone requested it with him!

Rhett Abbott had never felt more ridiculous in his entire life. 

He was told they just needed a few things from the grocery store. Rhett hated going to the grocery store. It meant people and people judged and whispered things about him, regardless of if it was true (majority of the time it wasn’t). 

But the grocery store was on the same street as The Wild Rose, Wabang’s brand new flower shop. And inside was you, the owner. 

Rhett scoffed at the idea at first. There was no way Wabang had enough people to warrant a flower shop. Plus, folks had plenty of land, they could make their damn bouquets if they wanted. 

Apparently people were lazy. It also helped that you sold wine and little knick knacks in addition to floral arrangements. Jars of speciality honey from a local farm, the wine from a nearby vineyard. Dish towels with funny sayings and food related puns. 

It wasn’t a store Rhett would go into, nevertheless pay attention to. But Amy wanted to go and it wasn’t like Perry was going to take her. 

There was a decent sized crowd outside the store, listening to the mayor drone on about how great this was going to be for the town, not just for Wabang but also for the surrounding area. Out of all the places to be on the ‘precipice of an economic boom’, Wabang did not come to Rhett’s mind. 

Before he could roll his eyes anymore, the mayor introduced the owner of the shop, you. 

God, you were beautiful with your bright eyes and dazzling smile as you spoke about how welcoming Wabang had been to you and how helpful when it came to making your dream a reality. Rhett was instantly smittened. 

But he couldn’t just go up and talk to you. For one, you were busy cutting a red ribbon with stupidly giant scissors. 

Second, you were luminous, vivid. Everything he wasn't. 

Rhett knew he didn't offer much, if anything. His life was directionless; all he did was work on the ranch and ride bulls when he could (when his right shoulder wasn't acting up). He would just drag you down. So instead, he settled for the chances he could walk past your shop and peek into the window for a glimpse of you. 

It was fucking pathetic. His family would give him so much shit if they found out. And yet, it was the highlight of his day, seeing you arrange a case, talk to customers. Rhett especially loved it when he caught you giving the floral arrangements to clients. The corners of your eyes would crease and the bridge of your nose scrunched up when you revealed your creation. It also allowed him to linger by the store window, to bask in your warmth for a little bit longer. 

“Do you think they're pretty?” Amy asked one day while they were walking down the street. 

Rhett let out a confused hum, turning his attention from your store window to his niece. 

“The owner. You always look in their window when we pass by,” Amy explained with a giggle. 

“It's just an interesting store,” Rhett grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets as he began walking again. 

“Then you should go inside!” Amy called out as she ran after him. 

If only it was that easy. 

—----------

Several months later Rhett was now standing in front of your door, rather than your window. 

He should go in. He had zero reason to not go in. Rhett actually required your services. So it wasn't as if he was just going to stroll in there with no plan. Or worse, use Amy as a guise (God, he hated when Perry did that). 

It was just….the thought of being in your presence, speaking to you. Having a conversation. Rhett wasn't much of a talker, never had been. Why would he, when hardly anyone was interested in what he had to say? 

And the truth was, he didn't have to go in. He could figure this out on his own. 

But when would his next chance come along? 

It was the unclear answer that gave him the courage to turn the handle and open the door. 

Your shop felt warm and inviting. One wall was filled with shelves, dedicated to displaying various colorful vases. In the middle, a designated ‘flower bar’ where folks could create their own bouquets. Amongst the store were various house plants and knick knacks. 

“Hi! Can I help you?” A sweet voice caused Rhett to turn around, the air exiting his lungs upon seeing you. 

He could only nod, at a complete loss for words. 

You waited for him, to see if he would expand. When he didn’t, you simply smiled and asked, “What can I do for ya?”

With fumbling hands, Rhett got out the photo from his jacket, “Um…I need help identifying these flowers. They’re the wedding flowers she had and I wanna draw the bouquet as like a….like a gift. Figured it would last longer than getting a bouquet but I uh…I need help identifying them. I wanna look them up so I can get the details right.”

This was going horribly. He should have just bought a magnifying glass off of Amazon or find someone who could digitally restore photos. 

“Do you know where they got married?” You asked, extending your hand out for the photo. 

“Yeah, uh, here in Wabang,” Rhett answered, running a hand up and down the back of his neck, hoping his body was just warm and not turning a bright red. 

“Oh, well that makes it much easier!” Rhett gave you the photo and you motioned for him to follow you to the counter. You got out a book that had a beautiful embossed floral design on the cover.

“I’m glad you know where they got married. It makes it much easier to identify. Also, considering WaBang has hadn’t a floral shop until this year and the nearest one was over an hour away, I’m assuming these are flowers native to Wyoming,” you explained, flipping through the pages. 

You looked up through your lashes, “I can tell you what flowers they are and you can look them up. But am I safe to assume that as an artist, you’d rather have your references in person?”

“Oh uh, I’m not…I’m not an artist,” He mumbled, shaking his head as he shoved his hands into his pockets. A nervous habit he couldn’t seem to break. 

“You’re creating art. Last time I checked, that makes you an artist…..” your voice trailed off, waiting to hear a name. 

“Oh! I’m Rhett. Sorry.” How could he forget to introduce himself? “Yeah, having something I could look at and observe up close would be great.” 

“Well Rhett, I’m more than happy to recreate that bouquet for ya. But I don’t have some of these flowers in stock, so it’ll take some time to order them,” you explained, “Probably like a week or so? If I have your number, I can let you know when they arrive.”

Rhett looked up, eyes wide in disbelief, “You want my number?”

Your nose scrunched up as you nodded, “Yes. I would love to have your number Rhett. Would hate for you to come in and I don’t have what you need.”

Rhett would do it. In fact, he even tried to assure you so. 

“Well, I might need another photo just to ensure I’m accurate. How will I let you know?” You countered. Fuck, you had a great point. 

So Rhett fumbled with getting out his phone, hands shaking as he passed it off to you. 

“I’ll give you my number too if that’s alright. Just so you aren’t wondering who’s texting you.” Your giggle was so endearing, Rhett couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t help but feel his shoulders drop and relax. 

He nodded, a small, slightly lopsided and totally sweet smile, “Yeah, that’s fine.”

You handed Rhett back his phone, “I’ll let you know if I need more info! And when I get them in.”

Rhett nodded, secretly (and seriously) hoping he didn’t look like an idiot with how hard he was smoking. 

“I'll uh, see ya around?” He practically asked. You nodded eagerly, saying your goodbyes as he quickly got out of the store. 

Rhett felt like he could finally breathe again once he was out of your store. That went well, right? He had your number, though it was intended to give updates regarding a gift for his mom. But he also had another chance to see you. Granted, once he was done with this project, he wouldn't have a reason to go into your shop. Maybe for Amy’s birthday, he could get her flowers. 

The vibration of his phone broke Rhett out of his thoughts. It couldn't be….could it? 

His eyes widened when he saw your name attached to the text. He nearly dropped his phone when he read your message. 

I'm glad you finally came in! I've been wanting to meet you ever since the store opened :) 

[clubsmarties]

"I'm not swaying you to believe me. I know how people can be different for everyone. But I know a snake when I see one. I'm also not trying to scare you. I want you to see it for yourself. I figured that you wouldn't believe me if I told you without any proof." Eli wanted her to come to her own conclusion before it was too late. His eyebrows furrowed slightly at hers searching his but nonetheless gave her a small smile. "I don't like to lie. Usually tell it like it is." There was also the deal where he didn't like liars. But that was neither her nor there. He left it at that. Now it was up to Jenny to hopefully slip up and show her true colors when she let her guard down. He did tell her game on but he wasn't going to do the work for her. Bullies fell on their own.

His thumbs caressed over her eyes and hummed softly at how warm her skin felt. Memories of their shared kiss two weeks ago came to the forefront. It was like he had searched for a love he never had and could finally stop looking. "There's no one else." he confirmed. Somewhere deep inside him he hoped she believed that. "You do have competition though with my baby sister she's very needy."

"Was the party the first time you saw me?" he asked, wanting to start slow. An easy question if she will. Eli wore a semi smug smile on his lips as he started to play with her hand. Seeing Jenny try to tame her inner rage was funny to him. He knew the more he poked her the more it'd build up for her and she was bound to trip up.

"We're going to be busy all night actually." He knew how that came off but he didn't explain. "Homework and all that. Interesting to be paired up for class and having this big project we have to work on. Seems like school is getting in the way of your fun." Eli exaggerated his word knowing how that'd get her fuming and had zero qualms about it. Looking at his watch he sighed. "You know, we better get going if we are to get started on that project. Always a pleasure Jenny."

Half of it still didn't make sense to her, but he had to trust that she was being sincere. Everything about her was out on display for him, she hoped that had been enough for him, for anyone. "I really don't know why she would do that, but it's really not like that at all. This is all…scary as fuck to me. I don't know if that's a fun game at all." His use of present tense pulled her gaze back to him, he liked her? Even after all of this? Searching for the answer in his eyes, she leaned towards yes, even through the hurt and exhaustion in his features. “No, I know, you have no reason to lie to me.” Clearly, that was not an issue for him. He was dodgy with his answers sometimes, but he hadn’t lied to her. Her mind just kept going back to Jenny and found it almost impossible to believe. She was always so sweet to her, and to others but she supposed she only saw her around here and there. Laurel also thought back to Julia, how her friend couldn’t stand her. Jenny hadn’t given her a reason, but…well, maybe there was more to her. “Okay, yeah I’ll think about it.”

Instinctively, her eyes fluttered close when he caressed her cheek, but after a moment, she opened her eyes and met that mesmerizing green. "Hm, not past tense," she concluded with a small smile. "My feelings don't change that fast." Laurel felt her heart settle after the tense conversation, and she leaned her head back against the locker, humming in response. "I'm sure she's still interested, especially if there's no one else."

It was a fair exchange, and she half-nodded more enthusiastically feeling the tone she was familiar with returning. Whatever irritation she met earlier, Laurel had not been a fan of. It was what she always ran from. "Fair enough, ask away. I'm an open book." That was debatable, but she was willing to try.

Speaking of Jenny, she appeared. This was just bizarre. Almost like the universe begging to bring all parties together to hash it out. She had not made lunch plans with her, had she? Her mind was at full capacity right now, unable to recall, even if she wanted to. Jenny's smile faded when Eli spoke up, feeling her words at the tip of her tongue. Who even asked you? But, nope. Couldn't do it. Not in front of her. So, instead, her lips drew into a thin line. "Oh!" she exclaimed in slight surprise, turning to Laurel, but she was not disputing him. "We do Jenny, sorry. I didn't know we had plans," Laurel added. She was only slightly taken aback when he took her hand, but oddly enough, she felt at ease. Trusting him with just a squeeze of her hand. "Well, I could join you guys. I'll even buy extra lunch!" Jenny suggested. She could see it in his eyes - almost silently challenging her. Guess he was not kidding about, game on. He wasn't serious. "Or, maybe not. Laurel, dinner at the dining hall later?"

[1v6]

In The Blink of an Eye [G/T]

[Word count 1777]

Your typical borrower story... or is it really a borrower story at all?

Long, slender hands slammed the book on its cover, its owner too lazy to read any further. Glancing at his phone, the clock read: “12:05 A.M.”

There was no way he had been studying for only five minutes. Surely he had been studying for longer than that? If it was five minutes, why did it feel like an eternity to him?

It was not something he cared enough to think about any further either way. Five minutes or five hours, he felt equally burnt out from studying. 

At least he was five minutes more productive than yesterday.

He reached for his cup for some water, only to find it with as much water as a desert. In other words, he forgot he drank all the water.

On the bright side, it was an excuse for a break from all that studying, and he left his room for the kitchen. Obviously, to get some more water to drink, so he could then have an excuse to use the toilet, which would be another study break, assuming he would continue studying after refilling his water.

Or maybe he would sleep. It is late, even if he usually sleeps later than this. Way later than this.

Yeah, maybe he would after some water.

Somewhat clumsily reaching the water, he also somewhat clumsily refilled his cup for the night, miraculously without spilling anything in the dark, as he never bothered to turn on the kitchen lights. He couldn’t see well without his glasses anyway, what’s the difference between not seeing shit and not seeing shit?

And so, just as he turned away to leave, something flashed in the corner of his eye. He whipped his head to the left instinctively, trying to see what it was.

Nothing out of the ordinary— how is it possible?

Could it have been a cockroach? Perhaps not. They tend to have a weird, lingering odour when they do infest the house. A gecko could’ve been more reasonable given the speed, if what he saw was real, and not a trick of the eye as a cause of forgetting his glasses upstairs. But just in case, he should check it first, if not for the sake of hygiene, then for the sake of being able to sleep soundly tonight.

He hated pests, and the lack of glasses is not going to stop him from trying to eradicate them. Eyes never leaving the spot he believed the bug was, his hand slowly reached the can of insecticide sitting in the corner just for situations like this. If it was a bug, he’s going to kill it without hesitation - just strike at them by drowning them in half of the bottle of that shit— an easy solution to an easy problem, right?

Shaking the can of insecticide, making clink, clink, clink sounds, an alarm to anything that could be targeted by the poison sitting inside, he approached the kitchen counter with small steps, slow and cautious, as if the kitchen counter itself is the enemy.

A small step, followed by another small step…then a Big Sudden Leap - only to detect zero lifeforms in said area.

Huh?

He looked behind the nearest thing there was - the toaster - and saw nothing. Just to be sure, he looked around the toaster - there was still nothing.

He was confused, as he was quite sure that he had seen something. Or was he? There was a small bubble of doubt, now thrown into the mixture of his current emotions. He would stay longer to confirm his suspicions, but it was late, and at this point, there was definitely no more reason to continue with this futile attempt of searching for proof of his figments of his imagination. His fear slightly convinced by the visual proof of nothing, he set the insecticide back down in the corner.

Cup of water in hand a minute later, he prepared to head back to his bedroom upstairs.

There was something again!

This time, there wasn’t something he saw, but something he heard. A very faint scutter that came from below the kitchen counter this time, no longer at the previous area he was looking at just now. His fear of insects reignited again, begging him to deal with this pest once and for all.

Keeping his eyes on the area, he spotted a small dark blob moving towards the gap between the counter and the wall, too small for him to get them if it made it there. The cockroach! There was no time for the bug spray if he wanted to catch it now. He poured the water into the sink, now holding an empty cup.

He is currently in a game of catch, with him as the determined lion, and the cockroach the panicking deer. The glass now a repurposed emergency cage, he bent down to get closer towards the ground, and lunged forward with the cup in hand, slamming it down onto the cockroach. 

The deed was done. The war has ended, peace returns to shine proudly on his home! At least, for the time being.

He will have to deal with the cockroach soon. The cup can not stay on the ground forever— He had to lift it up at one point, which is a terrifying idea: He did not know if this cockroach could fly. What if it were to immediately fly into his face the moment he tipped the bowl?!

The second option was more sympathetic to his fear: Leave it closed until it dies. The only two problems that come with this solution, though, are equally a nuisance. For one, the cup was opaque— he would not be able to know when it would be safe to open the bowl as he is unable to see when it would be dead. Secondly, the fact that he knew cockroaches are very good at staying alive! He definitely does not want to leave that cup on the ground for, say, three months straight.

Though he has another side that has a conflict with his fear of bugs. People, when grown up, tend to lose their natural childlike wonder towards mundane things, causing life to lose its colour the older one gets. He, though appearing as an uninteresting nobody to anyone passing by, has not yet lost that sense of curiosity. His fear of bugs and his curiosity - towards bugs - in this case, clashed against each other.

A simple solution to making peace with both sides is to separate them using a glass wall. The same way the bug will not make physical contact with him, the fear will not leave the confines of its prison.

And that is what he plans to do.

He will not kill it.

He will simply change its prison walls.

Taking a glass this time, he held it next to the quiet, opaque cup.

The kitchen was silent, and even more so now that he completely forgot to breathe. His sweaty hand had started to fog up the glass a little. He paused, mentally preparing himself for the cup swap.

It’s just a cockroach, he reasoned with himself. There was nothing to be afraid of, and it is most likely more scared of you than you are of it.

A deep breath.

A pause.

The next thing he knew, the cups were swapped.

But what he saw was not a cockroach.

It was a…borrower?

“You’re real?!”

Should she start doubting her own existence? Nay, she is very much real and tangible, despite whatever rusty thoughts are pouring into his mind as of this moment. She pinched herself on the shoulder.

Just to confirm her reality.

She simply stared at him as the human squinted his eyes at her.

Is he trying to show that she is that insignificant compared to him? Sure, he is large in size, but there was no need to rub it in her face. She can assess her situation quite well, very unlike her captor, thank you very much.

“Are you a borrower?” Has he never seen someone like her before? What is a “borrower”? This is starting to feel more and more like an insult to her dignity. Stripped of her name, then her dignity, what’s next? It was already bad enough that she was captured like an animal, but to be captured by such a dimwit just seems precisely what the Court would consider an entertaining joke.

Fortunately, being captured by an idiot has its advantages. An easy escapade can be done in no time, especially for someone as capable as her— as long as she can find a chance to do so, and humans rarely have any room for that, given their physical superiority. She could make the glass brittle enough to break and make a run for it, but—

“Maybe you’re not talking or something because whatever rules you have stop you from doing so, but I want to talk, not to harm you…?”

He sounded like he is not even confident with his own statement. He could try to lie better, perhaps. A decent attempt, however not one that can fool her into talking. She owes humans nothing. There is no favour to return, perhaps except trapping him in a glass, if she could.

She knocked on the glass to examine her prison walls better.

Clink, clink!

She looked at him again. Eyes droopy, he opened his mouth to let out a small yawn, scaring her just a little before she reigned in her fear.

Humans have no proper etiquette.

What felt like an eternity continued with nothing but a staring contest. And she will wait for however long she has to in order to escape. He said he was tired.

Then she will wait until he sleeps.

She still refused to talk?! OK, he thought, makes sense if they don’t trust humans or whatever.

But still, this is real. A borrower in front of him.

He knows the right thing to do would be to let her go and respect her right to liberty, but also, he knew that he would definitely never see her again if he did that.

So he brought her, covered glass and all, to his bedroom, trapped. After all, what’s the harm in doing that if she is in no danger? Not that he plans to harm her anyway. It is just keeping her in one place where he can keep an eye on her.

Yet, the pair of eyes supposed to keep an eye on her are closing. He blinked harder, trying to keep himself awake.

No— I can’t sleep yet— This is a once in a lifetime thing...

A minute later, soft snoring left the confines of warm blankets.

[degenerateworm]

Need to know what your Wesker from the gaming HCs thinks of The Institute from the Fallout series. It's a caricature, so sterile and advanced compared to the wasteland it surrounds that it's an intentional narrative turn, dripping with allegory and metaphors to the dangers of assuming the role of creation.

I'm so deeply unwell trying to figure out if he'd get ideas, or cringe, OR BOTH, or be uncomfortable, or be too comfortable.

I am so so so curious what he thinks of Big MT - their situation, how they were all brilliant minds akin to his own with stunningly similar teachings that were destroyed by one man to prevent them from enacting bloody ruin - and the resulting insane Zero, Eight, Klein, Dala, Morbius and Borous. How they behave, how they echo out their original selves incomprehensibly, stuck in obsessions they can't shake any more than they can regenerate their brains' neutered nerve endings.

I can think of so many games that echo out the 'hey science, Do Not build the torment nexus, please' thing oh nooooo lol

Thank you for reading!

What's up Nshtn! Thanks for the ask!

---

In my opinion, his reaction would differ varying on what part your Wesker is from, mainly either pre RE5, or post RE5.

Pre RE5 Wesker would find it laughable that these game developers were actually trying to say something about scientific discovery, something that has been said a million times before.

He'd look at Big MT and view it as a failure, but one with so much promise. Including all the Think Tank members.

They had made so many incredible discoveries and inventions; Saturnite, the retrieval harnesses, cloaking tech and cyber dogs.

But their demise only showed their lack of ambition in Albert's eyes. They didn't go far enough. And they weren't aware of the traitor in their midst before it was too late, and they had all been turned into shadows of themselves.

Albert Victim Blaming Wesker.

In his eyes, they deserved it, because they were weak. And Albert? He is simply different™.

---

Post RE5 though is a whole different story.

Albert will empathise with the scientists, yet he will quietly admire Mobius' determination to stop the others before they can cause further damage to the Mojave.

After all, Wesker has now been humbled, irrevocably. He sees that even if he did succeed in his mission of spreading Urobouros, he could have damaged the world beyond repair, being what his so called 'godhood' could fix.

And he could have hurt you.

Secretly, Albert wishes he was like Mobius; wishes he had been able to see the reality in his complex fueled delusion, and stopped himself before he lost such a great part of himself that he felt empty inside.

Miraculously, Albert has you to help heal him, but he can't help but wonder what would have happened if you weren't there.

Would he go entirely mad, like the scientists of Big MT? He can only speculate.

But he knows that despite losing so much, he's gained a lot more than what he had.

Albert Whumpsker. He'll be okay.

---

Sorry I didn't get to cover the Institute in this one, I'll mull it over the next few days and if you want I can post that too. I hope you're satisfied, and thanks again Nshtn!

[forestgreenlesbian]

.

[sofiafuentes]

"Arnav. Boss man. Please remember: these tickets were free. I won them in a raffle at the coffee shop. I literally spent zero dollars getting us in. I can afford to buy us a second round." How had he forgotten such a simple detail? Was he absolutely sure he wasn't even the slightest bit tipsy? Sofia gave him a coy smile as if he'd caught her doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing, but he was always willing to share a celebratory drink after a really productive week. "Listen, we deserved it okay? We work our asses off every week making sure people are happy." If this had been any other boss, maybe Sofia would have hesitated to show last year's costume, but Arnav was more of a friend than he was a scary boss type so felt okay to share it with him. "I did. It was an eventful Halloween." She didn't say anything beyond that, wondering if they were getting into uncharted territory with such comments. "Oh I've been working on my costume and it's pretty much ready. I don't buy readymade costumes and I'm all about thrifting and recycling what I've got. I'm going for Victoria's Secret runway model. Like... this!" She showed the Pinterest image that served as her inspiration. "I already had the wings and I've got a ton of lingerie so I'm pretty much set. Just waiting on some accessories to arrive to complete the look."

Arnav liked whipping up some drinks at his personal bar but he wasn’t as inclined as she was to figure out what made these fancy drinks the way they were. “The berry taste is good, I’ll give you that.” He agreed with her especially when she said it was like a smoothie but with booze instead which made it better considerably. “Oh come on Sofia, you sprung for the tickets, the least I can do is get the drinks for us,” he told her with a nod before chuckling at her words and shrugging, “you’re saying that as if you don’t raid the bar ever Friday afternoon,” he said with a raised eyebrow knowing that very often they toasted to a week well done with a drink. When she spoke about him not being able to handle her in a costume, he was definitely quite intrigued and watched as she pulled out her phone. His eyes very visibly did go wide at the image before a smirk was on his lips as he handed her the phone back, “well then—I’m sure you had a great Halloween last year,” he said with a grin before pressing the question a little more. “Okay but what would you have dressed up as this year if you did? I’m just curious.” And maybe he was thinking about her in a similar outfit again this year which wasn’t a good path to go down—not at all.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Do you ever read a post where someone is explaining a pokitical thing and from the way they're saying you know with absolute certainty 1) they got their info from a tumblr post and have never actually followed up on how feasible that information actually is to act upon (they may not even have checked if it was CORRECT, but when they do they have clearly not looked into how easy or hard it may be to follow those instructions with a positive outcome), and 2) you know WHICH tumblr post they're quoting because it is basically a copy/paste of it, and 3) it was YOUR goddamn post and the thing they are saying is entirely counter to the point you were making when you said it to the point that you genuinely wonder if they just like. Memory-holed the entire context once they saw that one itty bitty point.

It's like the motherfuckiny dating apps all over again. I do not want people to love my words if they are not actually willing to do the work of understanding them! Didn't your kindergarten ever make you play Telephone to teach you how heresay falls out????

[britneyshakespeare]

I feel like certain people on Tumblr have really been fighting for backwards progress when it comes to how we talk about mental illness and abuse. I see posts at least several times a week on my dash that seem to have the purpose of implying people with insert-mental-illness and/or insert-symptom are not abusive when they do insert-action-that-makes-people-uncomfortable, often times meaning to promote a more positive image of people with particularly stigmatized conditions, like personality disorders, mood disorders, psychosis, addiction, or neurodivergence. And I really really hate it because these posts almost always have the ultimate purpose of telling people not just "This thing is not inherently abusive," but often it comes across as "You were not abused."

I just find that to be really unhelpful and unintentionally hurtful, and for what? I believe that destigmatizing various mental conditions is a worthy cause, but at the same time this type of rhetoric seems to be so protective of people in whichever stigmatized group they're trying to advocate for, that it comes back around to a sort of respectability politics. Anybody can be an abuser. And someone's means and methods of abusing can very much be influenced by a condition they have. Why wouldn't it be? Their conditions will affect every aspect of their life and their interpersonal relationships. Especially if these issues are going untreated or being insufficiently managed. I don't understand why anyone would want to make it appear as if abusers are mostly neurotypical and mentally well people, or that if they aren't, then their conditions have nothing to do with it and the overlap is merely incidental. What? It makes it so hard for anyone who is a victim to come to terms and identify the dynamics of what they've gone through.

Addicts and mentally ill people don't have to be unproblematic in order to be humanized and accepted. And nobody profits from writing hard and fast rules about how abuse apparently works, drawing clear lines between which behaviors can, and cannot, ever be abuse.

[eternalpassions]

Ugh just when I’m able to read vkm without feeling anything Hino writes something annoying that has me like 🤡