#it was like you could see him calculating how badly he needed to school her on not questioning him before he decided it wasnt worth it

[sticks-and-souls]

My favorite part was when Elsbeth was like “Shouldn’t we send more than two squads?” And then Thrawn stared at her for so long that I, sitting on my couch, got secondhand embarrassment for questioning his strategy.

[sleepinthrumyalarms]

— protective instincts

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!oni!reader

warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, spoilers

summary: a full blood moon brings out the worst in oni demons: anger, jealousy, and extreme protectiveness over what is theirs

word count: 2.5k

It was late evening as the (h/c) – haired demon stood in her bathroom, hands on the sink as she looked down, gaze unfocused. Her head hurt badly, and there was weight behind her eyes as she raised her palm to rub at them, hoping to ease the pain.

The night of the Full Blood Moon came faster than she was prepared for, and her body felt all sorts of aching in unpleasant kind of anticipation. Because of her condition, the demon was one of the few people in the campus not assigned a roommate – and, while it did get lonely sometimes, she knew it was a necessary precaution. But still, she felt… isolated. As if a ruthless beast in need of a personal cage, lest she hurt anyone around her.

In her palm (Y/n) clenched an accessory adorned by a rope-like lace. It was a golden dragon pendant, eyes of rubies glistening in the light, toothy maw wide open as the snake-like creature wrapped its tail around itself. Her father gave it to her when the girl was younger, a protective charm with a purpose to lessen the fury that burned in her heart every Blood Moon. A symbol of wisdom, immortality and metamorphosis.

The demon stared at the pendant in her hand, tracing the outline of the dragon’s scales with a clawed finger, lost in thought.

She found it weird how she had never seen her father wear one of those during Full Blood Moons before. Like she was the only one in need of restraint.

(Y/n) sighed and put the charm on, taking a quick look at herself in the mirror. Her chest felt heavy, and not because of the golden trinket now adorning her being. The oni had always put her trust in her intuition and feelings rather than logic and cold calculation, and it had never failed her before. At least she believed so. She knew a person who probably wouldn’t agree.

(Y/n) didn’t want to be there. She wanted to be with Wednesday, wherever the grumpy girl was at the moment. They didn’t even have to do anything – simply being in her presence brought (Y/n) so much serenity that she wished she never had to leave the ravenette’s side.

Maybe Wednesday would play the cello for her. The demon loved watching the other girl play, how concentrated her gaze was, how her perfectly manicured fingers moved on the strings with swan-like lightness, producing grand tunes that bore a piece of the girl’s personality in its melody.

The oni’s eyes glistened, and she looked out the window – it was time to go. The (h/c) – haired girl left the bathroom reluctantly to grab her silk haori off the chair and put it over her naked shoulders and, mumbling a short prayer under her breath, moved to exit her room.

When the girl opened the door, she was greeted by the sight she had least expected – Thing, standing at her doorstep, and (Y/n) flinched, startled at the way she had almost stepped on the poor guy.

“Thing?” She raised her eyebrows, crouching in front of the appendage, “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but… are you alright?”

Thing began to sign hurriedly, his digits shaking as he tried to explain his sudden visit.

“Dude, slow down, it’s bad when you’re stuttering,” the girl scolded as gently as she could, now on her full guard at the hand’s uncharacteristic behavior, “Wednesday is… what? Where?”

Thing signed again, and (Y/n) didn’t waste any more time to grab him, letting the hand take perch on her shoulder before starting out of the room.

Wednesday ran through the dark forest, breath staggering. She could barely make out the path, stumbling over twigs and boulders, but never slowing her pace down. The girl knew she had to make it to the school, and that she had to do it quick. Even though she didn’t have anything against arson commitment, and, more importantly, encouraged it, and on a teenage prison no less, this was a different case. There were people she cared about. Friends she’d do anything to protect. And someone who she’d risk her life for, as cheesy as it sounded.

Near-death experiences really could change one’s life, the ravenette guessed.

As she came to a clearing of the forest, a dark silhouette appeared from behind a tree trunk, and, stopping in her tracks, Wednesday had to squint to let her eyes, not used to the pitch blackness around her, recognize the person blocking her way.

“Thornhill said you were dead.” Tyler mumbled incredulously, staring down at Wednesday with a frown.

“I’m feeling much better now.” Wednesday deadpanned in reply, eyes wide open and on alert, body frozen in place as she watched the young man walk over to her.

“You’re like a cockroach,” he seethed through gritted teeth, grabbing the much shorter girl by the lapels of her suit.

Wednesday didn’t flinch, looking up at Tyler with the same amount of hatred in her eyes, “This will not end well for you.”

As the man stared down at Wednesday, his face started to morph, skull deforming and eyes ugly and protruding as his bones shifted, and the ravenette fell down on the forest floor.

Now two feet taller than before, Tyler’s body tore the clothes he wore, and he growled, his back bending unnaturally, huge clawed hands almost reaching the ground. Standing back up on her feet without tearing her gaze away from the monster, Wednesday realised she might have spoken too soon.

With a sharp twist of his long arm, the hyde grabbed at her neck, and the girl’s back hit a stump painfully as she clawed at his huge hand, desperate to get out of his choking hold to no avail. As the monster raised his free arm over his head, talons ready to deliver the final strike, a loud roar tore through the midnight air.

A force equal to that of a charging bull rammed into the hyde’s side, sending him flying away into the trees. Wednesday fell down, taking big fulfilling breaths into her aching lungs before looking up.

A creature twice the size of the monster that was standing over her a few moments ago now towered in his place, broad shoulders rising and falling as it breathed heavily. Huge horns were sticking out of its head, and its disheveled (h/c) hair shined in the moonlight like an animal’s fur, pointed ears flicking in the wind.

The being turned its big head to look at Wednesday, and the girl instantly recognized the (e/c) slitted eyes glowing in the dark.

“…(Y/n)?” She whispered.

The demon’s tusks were now as big as to not let her lips close around them properly, steam coming out from the gap and out of her snout. Her gaze slid down the bloody streak on Wednesday’s forehead, and she growled, rage boiling under her grayish skin.

She turned back to the hyde who seemed to had come back to his senses, shaking his head and looking up at the intruder, baring his sharp teeth at the demon. (Y/n)’s huge mouth slowly opened impossibly wide with a low intimidating growl, saliva dripping down her tusks, gaze furious under her furrowed brows.

Oh, she was mad.

The oni lunged at the monster with a snarl, knocking him off his feet, her sharp claws tearing into his face, and the hyde howled from the pain, trying to push the demon away with his legs. He drove one of his taloned hands into her side, piercing the meat and muscle there, but (Y/n) didn’t budge, seizing the hyde’s arm still buried between her ribs in a grip strong enough to break the bone in half, and grabbed at his upper jaw, claws digging into the roof of his mouth, before throwing him further into the forest and away from Wednesday who watched the scene with astonishment, frozen.

But she quickly realised that the demon was giving her a chance.

For the first time in her life, the ravenette felt genuine fear creep up her neck. She was afraid to leave (Y/n) in the dark forest, forced to fight the hyde all by herself. While Wednesday was aware that the oni was in her element under the red light of the Blood Moon, her heart ached immensely.

A loud growl tore her out of her thoughts, and, sparing her last glance at the hurricane of teeth and claws a few feet away from her, the girl turned around and ran as fast as her feet could carry her.

Please, be careful.

To say that (Y/n) was angry would have been an understatement. She was furious, blood threatening to boil over in her veins as she tore at the monstrous creature in front of her, claws and teeth and fists almost not enough to satisfy the deep aching feeling in her guts.

How dare you?

Who do you think you are?

Did you think you could get away with this?

The image of Wednesday’s bloodied face, contorting under the hyde’s grip, flashed in front of the demon’s eyes again, and the golden pendant dangling on her neck did little to soothe her wrath as she clawed at Tyler’s face, carving deep wounds that would surely leave nasty scars even in his human form.

It was the first time she had ever seen the ravenette so helpless. She didn’t like the way it made her feel.

So (Y/n) tore, bit and clawed until she was satisfied. Until the monster was almost rendered to a bloody pulp, laying on the ground, motionless but still breathing.

For a split second, a pleasurable idea of burying her claws into the hyde’s ribcage to tear his still beating heart out coursed through the demon’s mind, hazy with fuming wrath. But she held back. She wasn’t a murderer, unlike him.

The Blood Moon illuminated (Y/n)’s body, muscles shifting under the oni’s skin as she stepped away, breathing uneven, and let out a loud roar that scattered across the whole forest, announcing her victory.

It was over. Crackstone was defeated, and Nevermore was finally safe, no longer haunted by the bloody past of the Jericho city. All of the outcasts breathed with relief seeing Wednesday come out of the front gates, victorious. But there was no rest for the wicked.

Wednesday couldn’t relax.

As Enid ran up to the shorter girl to pull her into a tight embrace, Wednesday’s eyes scanned the crowd, looking for the familiar face of the oni. But she found none.

“Where’s (Y/n)?” She asked, pulling away to look at her blonde friend, who turned her gaze towards the dark forest, not saying anything.

Without a second thought, Wednesday turned to set off into the darkness, but Enid was quick to grab her hand, stopping her.

“Wait. You… you probably shouldn’t.”

The look in Wednesday’s eyes was enough for the werewolf to let her go with a sigh, and the ravenette went past her fellow students and into the forest.

As she walked, she called (Y/n)’s name, dread crawling at her black heart with each step she took and each minute her desperate calls remained unanswered.

She tried to recall the path she took when she ran to the school, looking under every nook and cranny to find the signs of the oni’s presence – a body, anything.

Wednesday felt bitter tears gather in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall, her stride unrelenting. She knew (Y/n) was still out there. She could feel it.

“Wednesday.”

The ravenette felt a tug at her stomach as she heard a painfully familiar voice call out her name.

And there she was. Her demon girl, back to her normal size and horns gone, sitting in the shade of a tree in a far-from-perfect seiza position, her back a bit slouched with exhaustion. Her (e/c) eyes shined in the dark, illuminating her bloodied face in a warm glow, a clear remainder of her demonic spiritual power that was slowly fizzling away along with her anger. Her silk haori was draped over her naked shoulders that were rising and falling with heavy but steady breaths.

“I get it that we won?”

It took Wednesday a few moments, and then she was running towards the oni, falling into her embrace and wrapping her arms around her neck, completely ignoring the sticky red liquid the taller girl was covered in. (Y/n) was quick to return the hug, sitting back against the trunk of the tree to let Wednesday rest comfortably in her lap, bloody claws clutching at the fabric of her suit jacket.

They were quiet. No words needed to be said as Wednesday buried her face in the crook of the demon’s neck, inhaling deeply. She was real, and she was there, alive and breathing, in her arms.

Wednesday pulled away, pale hands on (Y/n)’s cheeks to inspect her face, and the demon leaned into the cold touch, closing her eyes and almost purring. The ravenette gently rubbed at a blood stain under the girl’s eye, smudging her own thumb with red in the process. (Y/n)’s eyes opened, and their gazes met.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” the (h/c) – haired demon whispered, squeezing the girl’s waist comfortingly.

“After that stunt you pulled? Of course I am. Are you hurt?”

“Oh, no. Did you think I was there to save you, silly? What I had with Tyler was personal,” (Y/n) laughed when she felt the smaller girl pinch her thigh reproachfully, “Sorry. Too soon.”

Adjusting her hold on Wednesday, the demon pressed both her hands into the ravenette’s thighs, pulling her closer to herself, “I’m fine. I humbled the guy real quick. He needed that,” she smiled, baring her bloodied canines, “Honestly, you’re underestimating me. A hyde? That’s the weakest thing I’d fight for you. Keep them coming, bring a whole army in –,” the oni wasn’t able to finish her sentence, her mouth pressed against Wednesday’s as the smaller girl pulled her into a kiss, hands on her cheeks to press herself impossibly close.

(Y/n) sighed and melted, the ravenette’s plushy lips against her chapped ones, and Wednesday tasted blood as she pulled away.

“Your overconfidence is going to get you killed one day.”

The demon averted her eyes, and her smile dropped suddenly, grip tightening, “You have no idea how badly you scared me.”

But Wednesday had. She had felt the same fear, after all, like a cold serpent crawling up her body. To her own surprise, she didn’t enjoy it.

“I’m quite notorious in the scaring department,” the girl grabbed (Y/n)’s chin to gently make the demon look into her eyes, “But with you it doesn’t feel an accomplishment.”

(Y/n) huffed through her nose and smiled again, a bit bashfully, and Wednesday’s way with words had never failed to fluster her.

“You didn’t lie. They really were quite big. Your teeth, I mean.”

They stayed like that, basking in each other’s presence, as if having spent many years apart, hearts yearning for one another, and (Y/n) finally felt the serenity she had longed for, in the arms of the person who saw her at her worst and still stayed.

[stegrossaurus]

May-Tov Corporation

May-Tov Corporation

by Violet

It doesn’t hurt too bad when I wake up. I tell myself that I must be getting better, but deep down, I don’t think that’s true. It took me hours to get to sleep last night. Hours of squirming around trying to get comfortable, waiting for my heart rate to go down, struggling to fill my lungs. I was hoping that Rita wouldn’t notice, but of course she did.

“Vi, have you thought about seeing the doctor yet?” she asks as I get breakfast ready. There’s already a stitch in my side, but Barbie and Jack will be up soon.

“I’m sure I’m fine, Rita,” I say. “The doctor will probably just tell me to cut our greasy foods.” I’ve actually already done that. The chest pain and breathing problems stopped for a while, then came back full force.

“Then why don’t we go and just get it confirmed?” she asks. My Rita’s too gentle to force anything, but I can tell how badly she wants me to go. “If it’s about money, we have plenty in our savings. And I can always ask my parents for more.”

I cringe a little at that. I don’t like the idea of asking for handouts, but sadly we might need it soon. Jack needs his asthma medicine, Barbie might need braces soon, Rita’s been between jobs for a while now, and the restaurant’s been decreasing my hours.

I wish I could say that the money was the only reason, but the truth is I’ve never liked going to the doctor. There’s just so much helplessness involved in going to the hospital. It’s embarrassing at my age and there’s only so many times I can say no to Rita, so I agree to let her schedule an appointment.

Barbie’s a little quiet on the ride to school. When she speaks up, it’s a little quietly and addressed more to Rita than to me.

“Hey, Moms? I got a list of things I’ll need for school next year. I’ll need a May-Tov calculator for Algebra. It’s a little over $1,000.”

Good thing Rita was driving, because I almost jumped out of my seat. That May-Tov crap is always so damn expensive. My co-worker got a May-Tov cellphone that cost $8,000. And Barbie’s moving to the sixth grade, not NASA. Why would she need a calculator so advanced?

“I know it’s dumb,” she says quickly trying to absolve herself despite not having done anything wrong. Somewhere along the way, she and Jack realized that we’re having financial problems. “I think a normal calculator will do just fine.”

“I agree but we both know how persnickety schools can be,” Rita says, falsely cheerful. “It’s okay, dear. We’ll get you that calculator.” 

$1,000 doesn’t seem like much, but we don’t know what’s wrong with me or how much it’ll cost. Plus, Jack’s starting sixth grade the year after Barbie, and who knows how much May-Tov crap we’ll need by then? All of this sends my heart into another surge as I try to hide my grimace.

Rita’s job hunting, so I have to brave the doctor’s office on my own. My heart flares up a few times while waiting and as petty as it sounds, the May-Tov Pyxis machine doesn’t help. It’s designed to look like an old-timey black and gray cash register attached to the wall, but I’ve seen a nurse pull medicine and equipment from one. My co-worker’s phone has a similar aesthetic, black and clunky with a rotary dial on the back and a detachable phone handle on the side. But he says the Wi-Fi signal, computer, and camera are all top-of-the-line. So weird design choice aside, it should be a good thing that the hospital uses May-Tov products. But my daughter’s future calculator/car payment may have soured me on them a bit.

When Dr. Mauz arrives, I tell him about my heart troubles. “It gets worse when I’m too active or stressed. But sometimes it starts going crazy when I’m just doing nothing or lying down.”

Dr. Mauz’s large, toothy grin wavers only slightly as he scratches his chin. “It sounds like it could be angina, but we’ll run some tests to be sure.” 

He pushes a few buttons on the Pyxis machine and asks it for a blood pressure pump, stethoscope, and syringe of dye, among a few other things. Then he cranks a handle and the drawer pops open with everything inside. He checks my blood pressure and breathing, asks me about my medical history and eating habits, and injects me with some white dye. Then he waves a May-Tov scanner (which looks like a ray gun from an ancient sci-fi) over me.

“This will scan the dye and give us a look at what’s going on in there,” Dr. Mauz says. I’m sure his ever-present smile is meant to be reassuring, but it’s very quickly becoming unsettling. “We should get the results back in a few days, and we’ll call you in then.”

At home, Rita’s not thrilled about the lack of news. “You’d think with all that sci-fi crap they have in the hospital, they could find a better answer than ‘I don’t know’.” I don’t think her job interview went well. When I ask her, she says, “May-Tov stuff is everywhere. So many machines and computers are automated now that they don’t need human workers.” 

She looks ready to cry, but we try not to do that with the kids in the house. I hug her, hoping she can’t feel my heart-beat. It’s not bad yet, but it’s getting there. She tries to smile and I smile back, but I don’t say anything. I honestly don’t know what’s going to happen.

“We’ll figure something out, Vi. I’m sure there are a few art jobs out there that computers haven’t taken yet. And once summer starts, you’ll have more hours at the restaurant. We’ll be fine.”

The next day at work, I see what Rita’s talking about. The stoves, ovens, grills, and walk-ins have all been replaced. All the new machines look black, gray and retro in a way that reminds me of my grandparents' kitchen. Sleek silver trim, lots of dials and levers, and a logo that looks like a black and gray blob with MAY-TOV written in wavy white letters in it. And as Rita said, they’re mostly automated. Just talk or type into the cash register-like machines attached to the walls and the appliances get to work.

“The freezer even hands thaws and cuts things and hands them to you,” Jody says, pointing to a chute in the wall that pops out a few pre-chopped carrots.

“Guess this is where the money for my hours went,” I grumble.

“All of our hours, Vi,” Jody agrees sadly. “Most we do now is take the food in and out of the machines. Pretty soon, they won’t need us for that, either. They’ve already laid off five more people.”

Jody’s right; there’s little to do but cut vegetables for the stove to boil, take pans in and out of the ovens, and clean the dishes until a May-Tov dishwasher arrives. You’d think that would lower the workload, but the ease of cooking means more orders, more cutting and carrying, and more cleaning. So these high-tech machines are actually making us work harder.

“I hate these things,” I mutter, taking a pan of lasagna from the oven’s robotic hands. “It’s not even all the way cooked.” 

Before I can send it out anyway, the hands jolt out, yank the pan back inside, and the oven turns itself back on. It adjusts its own dials and flares to life, humming in a way that reminds me of angry grumbling. A few minutes later, it shoves the further-cooked pan into my oven mitts with an angry-sounding beep.

A few of the other machines beep, too. I swear the blender’s top flattens a bit, like a furrowed brow. I continue the rest of my shift with my eye on the machines. None of them do anything like that again, but I still end the night uneasy.

The day my test results come in is already a bad one. Rita still had no luck, Barbie’s orthodontist gave us the estimate for her braces, and I’d barely gotten 5 hours of sleep that night. Then Dr, Mauz called and asked if I could come in to discuss my results. His giant grin is more subdued than I’d seen before, so I brace myself for bad news.

“Mrs. Hasagawa, I’m sorry to say that your heart condition is something severe. Not necessarily life-threatening, but I wish you’d come in earlier. It will require treatment ASAP.”

I try, and mostly fail, to steady my heart and rasp out, “What do I need? Medicine? Surgery?”

Dr. Mauz takes a breath. I don’t like how he’s hesitating. “The standard procedure is very expensive and your insurance may not cover it. But there is a chance. Have you heard of the MAy-Tov Corporation?”

I nod. I know I should be annoyed or disturbed that May-Tov has once again found a way into my life, but mostly I’m just hopeful. May-Tov machines are supposed to be the most advanced on the market. Those assholes can have my job as long as they save my life.

“Well, I’ve already called in a specialist willing to examine you,” Dr. Mauz says, his face-consuming grin returning. “Your scans tell them that you’d be perfect for a new procedure they're working on. The equipment they have is more advanced than the stuff they give us, so they might be able to provide an answer.”

“And it’s cheaper?” I venture, remembering that he mentioned price. My heart-rate’s not going down and it feels like I’m breathing through cement.

“It’s experimental,” he says cautiously. “They’re willing to do it for free, but there’s no guarantee that it will have any effect. So what do you say?”

I’m starting to sweat and my vision’s blurring a bit. I need help; any help. I push down my suspicion and say, “Yes. Can they do it right now?”

Dr. Mauz seems relieved as he leads me to the elevator. Getting up and moving helps to relieve some of the pressure, but I still feel dizzy. It usually only gets this bad when I’m working extra hard at the restaurant. The stress of my diagnosis must be…wait.

“Doctor, what exactly is wrong with me?” I ask between gasps.

“Your heart, Mrs. Hasagawa,” he says evasively.

“But what specifically is going on? You never actually said what disease I have. Is it angina, like you said the other day?”

Dr. Mauz’s eyebrows raise as he remembers. “Oh, right. Angina. Yes, it’s definitely angina.” He’s still smiling but he sounds…defeated. “The May-Tov man will explain it better.”

I’m not sure I like the sound of any of that. I look down at the elevator buttons and see that the one that’s lit up is the basement button. But it looks different than the others; it’s bigger with an ornate black border and an old-timey B on it. It doesn’t look like it belongs in a modern elevator and I don’t think I saw it on the ride up to Dr. Mauz’s office.

My heart surges painfully as the door slides open. If the button didn’t quite match the elevator, then this room certainly doesn’t match the building. The room is just a white square with black stains on the walls and floor and a few flickering lights.

“I’m sorry, Mrs Hasagawa,” Dr. Mauz says, shoving me out of the elevator. “The door will open again when he’s done.”

I futilely try to keep the door from closing. I slam the elevator call button, but it stays closed. Who is ‘he’? The room is empty. And what is ‘he’ supposed to do? I don’t want to find out. I keep pounding the button and trying to breathe until I hear a giggle behind me.

I turn and press myself to the door. I don’t see anyone else in the room and no other doors or hallways, either. Just me and the inky black stains. But the continued laughter and flickering lights bring out a new perception in my eyes. Suddenly, I can make out limbs, torsos, fingers, and so many different types of heads. Heads with snouts, pointed ears, long trunks, curved horns, antennae, goofy hats, even a halo. The stains start to look like blast shadows, but not for humans. The laughter’s coming from the far wall. I think it’s the short stain with the big white eyes winking at me.

With a sound like velcro, the stain rips itself off of the wall and wobbles forward as a flat, black blob of ooze. Then it pauses, puts its barely formed hand to its gelatinous head, and inhales. The blob inflates like a balloon, gaining a third dimension and more detail.

It’s a doctor, that’s my first thought as it takes its thumb away from its mouth when it’s done inflating. Its large cat-like head with its googly slit-pupiled eyes and sharp-toothed grin are almost secondary. Its white coat, stethoscope, little black bag with a white cross, and head-mounted light tell me all I need to know about it.

I try to clench my fists and get ready for a fight, but this is too much. My legs start to lose their feeling and my vision darkens. Before I can faint, the living cartoon is right in front of me in a flash. He puts his gloved hands on my shoulders, lifts me to the standing position, and cocks his head curiously.

With nothing to lose, I manage to ask, “Can you help me?”

His eyes and grin widen even further and he nods enthusiastically. I relax the tiniest bit as he puts his stethoscope to my chest. A doctor’s a doctor, I guess, and it’s not like I can leave. After a second, the cartoon doctor tuts and shakes his head. He retracts the stethoscope and pulls something out of his bag; something small and round with a short handle. For a second I’m afraid it’s a cartoon bomb, but there’s no fuse.

“What’s that?” I ask.

The doctor doesn’t answer, of course. Instead he winds up his arm and shoves the object handle-first into my side. The icy metal punches right through my skin and muscle, paralyzing me. I can’t even scream or faint. Then he twists it and I can feel a click. He pulls on the object, a doorknob I realize, and the front half of my entire torso opens.

I still can’t move as the doctor pulls my heart from my ribcage, but I can feel the wave of cold radiating from the void left behind. My red and pink heart looks so out of place, almost invasive, in his stark white gloved hand. 

The doctor giggles as he squeezes my heart like a toy. Then he pulls a little nightstand with a tub on it out of his bag and plops the removed muscle in it. He pulls out a large syringe of bubbling black ooze, leers at me gleefully, then frowns and throws the syringe away. Then he pulls out a meat tenderizer, a power-drill with a black cross on it, a large bandage, and a defibrillator. Each time, he considers the tool then throws it out of my range of vision. I’m not sure whether to be relieved or anxious. I just want this to end. The doctor’s getting annoyed. He taps his foot and scratches his chin for a moment before a lightbulb appears over his head. With a bright smile, he snaps his fingers and picks up the heart. 

Then, slowly and deliberately so that I can fully see and understand, he opens his massive jaws and drops my heart into his mouth. The chewing sound he makes isn’t from a cartoon; it’s from a nightmare. 

After a loud gulp, the doctor finishes my heart and fishes something else out of his bag. It’s another heart. A shiny black and gray cartoon heart. With no fanfare, he crams the heart into my ribcage, slams my torso shut, and removes the knob. 

The spell freezing my body wears off instantly and I’m left to gasp for breath and choke back sobs as I lean against the door. The doctor grabs my hand and presses a paper into it then presses the elevator button. Before I can even process what happened, the door slides open and I fall in. The monstrous doctor waves cheerily as the door slides shut again.

Dr. Mauz is still in the elevator. He tries to put his hand on my shoulder, but I swat him away. I pull myself up and get as much distance from Dr. Mauz as the space will allow.

“What the hell was that?” I shriek. “What did he do?”

Dr. Mauz shrugs helplessly. “That was the May-Tov Incorporated doctor. I don’t know what they are. Or what specifically they want. Money? Fun? it’s hard to guess. But at least he fixed your heart.”

“Fixed it? That thing ate it and replaced it with another one!” I shout. “Did I even have a heart condition? Or was that just a lie?” 

“They wouldn’t let me do any tests,” he says softly. “They just wanted to see if a heart transplant would make the process quicker.”

“Process?”

“It should all be on the paper.” Dr. Mauz presses the ground floor button. “I’m sure it won’t be too bad.” He pulls up his right sleeve so I can see his stark white, hairless, noodle-shaped arm. There’s a bandage in the elbow, where a shot usually goes. “It isn’t for me. Just a little pain every time it spreads.”

My heart-beat is slow and steady, but I still feel numb and light-headed. I look at the paper, but right now I can’t focus on anything except BILL written in large font at the top. “How can you do this to your patients?”

“It’s going to happen anyway,” he answers glumly as the door opens. “May-Tov has its hooks everywhere. I’m just trying to make it as painless as possible.” Then he goes off to talk with another patient. Another victim.

I want to follow him and sock him in the jaw, but there’s security everywhere. And what would it solve anyway? I numbly read the paper in the lobby. When I start crying, most of my tears are gray.

A few weeks later, when I’m all plugged in and ready to go, I tell myself that it’s not so bad. But deep down, I know that it’s not so good, either. It makes sense in a way. I work (well, worked) in a restaurant, so cooking is my skill set.

Rita didn’t believe the bill at first, of course. But when my skin began to blacken and harden, she took the kids to her sister’s for a week while I threw out most of our old appliances. I’m not sure if she believed it by then, but when they came back and she saw the new setup in the kitchen, I think it clicked for her. She told Jack and Barbie that I took a job in another city and the May-Tov stipends are my paychecks, but I can still talk to them through the register device and cook their meals remotely.

My new mechanical body includes a stove, oven, microwave, toaster, fridge, and freezer all connected to each other and to the cupboards and pantry. I can still cook for my wife and kids and see them every day. At night, I can reach out my flexible metal arms and pull the TV and remote into the kitchen. And obviously, my heart hasn’t bothered me since. I can even move a little and I’m sure May-Tov will upgrade us with some proper legs one day. All things considered, it’s not too bad. That’s what I tell myself when I miss holding my kids.

I have a lot of time to think. Dr. Mauz may have been scum but he also may have been right. May-Tov Incorporated is taking over quickly. They’ve bought out many competing tech companies. More and more people are disappearing. Some probably took an under-the-table medical procedure like I did, some may have been changed in a different way. But once May-Tov transplants and surgeries get approved, things will start rolling fast. 

I don’t know how long May-Tov braces and a May-Tov inhaler will take to change someone, but I think it’s better to do it now. If we wait until the kids have jobs or career plans, they might become appliances. If they change as kids, though, maybe they’ll be beings like Dr. Mauz. And an artist could be more fun as a character than an object, so maybe my Rita will keep her arms and legs, too.

I ask Rita to consider all of this and she promises to, reluctantly. I know she misses sleeping next to me and dancing with me and holding me and I miss all of that, too. But once they’re all transformed, we’ll have plenty of fun together. Once the world is transformed by the May-Tov corporation, we’ll all have wacky hijinks and adventures. Soon, we’ll all be May-Tov inc.

[misplacedreporter]

"Oh, so now you want to help me?" she snipes, hands on her hips as she whirls to look at him; she doesn't stop walking despite this, deftly avoiding obstacles without looking. "What happened to refusing to answer my questions?"

Meryl wonders if he even remembers how he'd kept telling her not to worry about it, that he'd stop Knives so she didn't need to know about the red plants. Why Knives wanted them so badly. Despite the bite in her tone though, she's not completely shutting down the idea. Given how much he seems to know about a lot of things, he probably would be able to help. Unlike Nico, whose brain appears to be mostly bent toward how best to annoy her.

"And puns are the lowest form of comedy, don't flatter yourself." A hand catches around the wrist of his prosthetic as she turns back around, pulling him along with her. Meryl can see the entrance now, and doesn't want to lose him among the students, nor the stacks and towers of information.

"Have you ever even been to the University before? You're not a former student, are you? It's certainly not in any known files about you, and you've never told me where you grew up or went to school. Did you even go to a college?" He's smart, Meryl knows. For all that he acts like an idiot sometimes, she's seen him do incredible calculations in seconds to take out entire groups with as few shots as needed, or to figure out ricochet angles to their best effect. No one truly as brainless as he often pretended to be could do what he does so often.

She doesn't get why he hides it most of the time.

"Or were you one of those kid geniuses you hear about all the time who finished school by like age twelve?"

“Puns are a sign of higher intelligence you know,” Vash chirps with every ounce of confidence that Meryl will come to appreciate all his bountiful puns in time. Meryl’s hand pinches into the elbow of his jacket to redirect him and he does not resist in the slightest as they continue down one of the many avenues that feed directly into the university at November’s center. If he is aware of the passing students’ open derision, he doesn’t show it. 

What Vash does do is shoot Meryl a sly, knowing look, but he does not press on the matter of just a school. He likes keeping the remainder of his limbs intact, thank you. “I would never,” he puffs, splaying the blue-green fingers of his prosthetic delicately over his chest.

There is a time and place to exercise propriety, and a formal institution as esteemed as No Man’s Land’s premier university would be such a place. Vash settles down, primly adjusting the lapels of his bulky jacket.

“Hey! Meeeryl.” He elongates her name with a whine when he notices Meryl's attention presently occupied with not-him. They’ve already breached the edges of campus and, by Vash’s estimate, Meryl is making a beeline for the library. While copies had been created out of all the original materials, the knowledge contained within were incalculably valuable for humanity’s endeavor to survive this planet’s harsh climate. He can’t imagine that they’d ever find trouble in the maze of bookshelves and computer terminals, given the library’s inherent sanctity.

“What’re you trying to find here, anyway? You haven’t told me what you’re planning even though you insisted on stopping by the university.” And then, just as vehemently, she insisted he and Wolfwood didn’t. “Maybe I could help!”

[inn-oceanid]

hi! if youre okay with doing more dorm mates hcs for other characters, could you do kaeya and albedo as your dorm mates? thanks so much in advance <3!

Kaeya and Albedo as your dorm mates !

Tysm for the request ! I enjoyed writing this lmao.

Contains; fluff, and flirting, touchy Kaeya but that’s all. NOT PROOFREAD

So how did you guys met? —you just happened to be in the same class as Kaeya, as well as dorms. Kaeya was in the same class with Albedo last year so he was preeetty much close with the quiet boy. Which made him invite Albedo to stay with the two of you in your dorm because, the place was kind of big for the two of you.

Alright when you stay with these two, you can clearly see how their personalities are veeeery different if you pay attention—to be honest you don’t need to pay attention, you’ll see anyway.

Albedo

It’s like new day new fact for you after Albedo moved in with you and Kaeya. You were very amused at how he was very smart when it comes to science and mathematics computation.

Like he can do mental computations—like how tf? 184 x 246? Without a paper and a pen, I’d take you (+me) ages before you can finish solving it inside your brain (+mine)

So like, whenever you blurt out math equations from your homework, Albedo’s there to say the answer within 3 seconds.

Walking calculator.

Albedo also likes sketching, you’ve seen and watched him sketch many things ever since he moved in.

Like in the balcony at 5pm, he’ll sketch people walking home from school and you’ll watch him sketch sitting beside him.

Albedo likes it when you watch him do his hobbies, it makes him feel like you’re so intrigued about him, and he likes your company very much.

sometimes he’d go, “Can you be my reference? For my sketch, if you don’t mind.” And request you to just sit right in front of him and do your thing.

He sits right in front of you while he crosses his legs, and uses his thighs for a stand for his sketch book.

You admit you get shy when he looks or scans your face and body for his sketch, the way he looks calmly serious while sketching. There’s just something that makes you shy around him—and he knows.

Your eyes meet way too many times when he looks at you as he continues to sketch.

Just wait until he holds eye contact with you while his hands do it’s work without even looking at the paper.

Deep inside Albedo wanted to smirk at you badly because of how tensed you look while he doesn’t tear his eyes away from yours, but he’ll tease you some other day or time, maybe later.

After he’s done sketching, he’ll show it to you while having his back lean against the chair he’s sitting on. “I’m done.”

“Oh don’t you look alluring in this sketch?—just like always.”

As much as you want to look at the sketch first and see his drawing, his word was first to make you blush furiously and cover half of your face. So he’ll leave the sketch beside you and wash his hands.

Other than sketching, Albedo is good at baking. When you asked why, he goes,

“I have a little sister, although we’re not blood related but I see her as that. We bake cookies during weekends, I’ve mastered the art of baking because of that. I guess it’s for her to like my cookies, and so that she’ll remember me whenever she sees it. And so that she won’t get lonely whenever I come back here.” Like bro that’s so wholesome.

He also goes, “Why don’t you come with me to visit her some time? I’m certain that she will very much like you.”

Albedo also teaches you his special cookie recipe, he said it’s better to be prepared. So that you, him, and the little girl he mentioned named, Klee can bake together when you visit her.

Surprisingly, Kaeya also knew about Klee. Guess like he and Albedo are really close huh.

Watches you mix the ingredients together. He won’t scan what you’re doing, he’ll scan your face, your hair, your concentration. He finds it alluringly attractive.

And he tells you that you’re attractive while you’re in the middle of your baking.

Kaeya

Kaeya

Define kaeya seriously.

He’s touchy, pokes here and there, everyday.

Kaeya is the kid in the room. He likes to complain about things, whine, act like a child.

He likes it when the attention is focused on him, whether it’d be you or Albedo or both.

He’s really close with Albedo where it goes to the point you think if he’s bisexual or something, if he likes Albedo or something.

But he does straight things that confuses you more, like he’ll suddenly hug you from the front all of the sudden, from the back, anywhere he can hug you.

Like, you’ll exit your room, he’ll hug you.

He exits his room, he’ll hug you. It somehow tells you that he wants affection because you see a lonely side of him when he’s quiet or sitting alone in the living room so in return, you hug back and pat his back while making small steps with him somewhere.

Just, be, affectionate. Then he’ll be happy.

The most adorable thing he does is when you and Albedo are sitting together on the sofa, he’ll squeeze between the two of you, the does these two things:

Lay his head on your lap, and rest his legs on Albedo’s. Then he’ll talk about how his day went where you and Albedo would just chuckle at while listening.

Or, rest on someone’s shoulder and sleep.

And when he does sleep, you and Albedo will move once you knows he’s totally asleep and cover him with a blanket.

And he’ll be waking up with his friends cooking him dinner, in which he’ll softly smile to.

Kaeya is the one who does groceries. (💀)

He’ll always go to the groceries with you and Albedo with him. You’re a package, the three of you, three in one, yeah that’s his mindset. He doesn’t like leaving one behind.

He holds the list and tells you what to get, what brand like “Get pasta, get pasta. No that’s too cheap, that one.” Bro it’s just pasta chill, it’ll taste the same.

But unfortunately he says it’s not the same, then will head to the next isle.

After groceries, he’ll be heading to a fast food restaurant and treat you two as a thanks for coming with him. He does this every time. More like a routine.

He’s noisy when he goes outside—

But gets quiet when he’s home. He acts homesick but he says he isn’t.

When Albedo’s not home, he’ll sit on the dinner table and draw circles on the table while he asks you random things when you’re doing your homework.

“What is the most precious thing you received as a birthday gift?” — “What’s important for you right now?” “What makes you happy?” “Do you think the world is round?”

“The world is round, you can’t change my mind otherwise. I don’t get why some people it’s flat, I completely disagree. —just because we travel and use a straight road doesn’t mean it’s flat.” He’ll start murmuring which is enough to make you chuckle and lose concentration on your work.

He’s talking about Diluc-

BONUS

These two would always walk with you to school, on the school hallway, cafeteria, literally everywhere. Like there’s no day you don’t walk without them.

Kaeya is always in the middle. For some reason.

“Classes are starting? Already?” Kaeya would always roll his eyes. (Lmao the tone when he said, ‘me? Lonely? Not when someone’s here nagging me all that time, that’s for sure’)

He waves at Albedo when you walk him to his class, like a child being separated from his older brother. While Albedo just looks at him and nods, ‘yeah. We all know we’ll meet again later.’

[rocorambles]

Surprise Interview

Pairing: Kenma x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Yandere, Pseudo-Cest, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Verbal Humiliation, Manipulation

Summary: Kenma sees if you have what it takes to be Bouncing Ball’s newest employee.

A/N: This is for @sugawara-sweetheart ‘s Decadence Collab. So excited to be a part of this collab and to be able to indulge in such a delicious prompt and theme. Be sure to check out everyone else’s works! As always, thanks for beta-ing @sawamooora ~

There’s a familiar peace and a new nervousness about coming back home for the holidays. Mostly because home isn’t quite the same home it used to be. You can feel warmth blooming in your chest at the thought of seeing your mom, telling her about everything and everyone (as if your daily phone calls aren’t enough), and just lounging around while she fills you up with her cooking. But you can also feel a certain shyness as you approach the house, a building that still feels brand new and strange to you.

Your mother had gotten remarried during your earlier college years after your father’s passing and you were elated for her. If anyone deserves all the happiness in the world, it’s her. You had met Mr. Kozume quite a few times and you have no qualms with the man. He treats your mother like a queen and even though you playfully gag as they sweet talk and kiss in front of you, you wholeheartedly approve of their relationship.

However, what you aren’t quite as prepared for is having a new step-sibling.

You don’t know much about Kenma Kozume. Well, not much more than the rest of the world does.

Professional gamer. Successful stock trader. Popular YouTuber. Founder of his own corporation.

You know exactly who your new brother is, but other than seeing him a few times in person at family gatherings and exchanging polite greetings, there’s no real connection. Which is why your heart races as you nervously ring his doorbell, anxiety already making your leg twitch as you wait for the door to open.

Your mother and step-father are on a couple’s vacation and won’t be returning for a few days.

(“We just want some romantic time together before we have a full house again for the holidays. Plus this is a great chance to get to know your older brother better!” You hadn’t even been able to get a word of protest in before she had laughed and hung up on you, leaving you speechless and on your own as you hesitantly texted Kenma, letting him know what day to expect you.)

Kenma is quiet as ever as he nods in greeting, silently leading you to your guest room before quietly telling you to make yourself at home and leaving to do his own thing. You let out a huge sigh of relief as the door closes behind him.

There’s nothing wrong with Kenma. He’s smart and successful. Maybe a bit on the quiet side, but that only adds to his down to earth charm. You know your mother and step-father adore him and you can’t blame them. Yet, you can’t help but feel scrutinized, seen so clearly in a way that terrifies you when his feline eyes gaze at you. It takes everything in you not to immediately scurry away whenever you’re in viewing distance of him, desperate to hide all the flaws you imagine he’s noticing and calculating. Your step-father had mentioned how Kenma used to be the strategist of his high school volleyball team, and has always been able to evaluate and accurately break down situations and people. And you believe it.

You’re just grateful the house is large enough to avoid each other and that Kenma tends to reside mostly in his home office and bedroom.

But even the founder of a company needs a break from time to time. Kenma shuffles towards the gaming room, only to blink in surprise when he sees you already inside of it, happily smiling as Animal Crossing visuals and sounds fill the space.

He had known you owned a Nintendo Switch, a piece of information your mom had shared to break the ice a bit. And it’s really no surprise that this is your go-to game. But knowing and seeing are two different things and he can’t help but let his own lips twitch upwards at how calm and relaxed you are tending to your garden, decorating your home, choosing your outfit.

Kenma’s never been good with people, has never been the one to initiate a friendship. He knows he should have made more of an effort to be friendly and welcoming to you as your new older brother. There’s a slight pang of regret in his chest when he sees how at ease you are while you’re unaware of his presence. His eyes are as sharp as ever and he locks in on the way your body slightly stiffens, fingers nervously fidgeting when you finally notice his figure in the doorway, words already stuttering an apology for using his game room without explicitly asking.

You look like a scared mouse about to flee from the claws of a cat. And it pisses him off.

He hasn’t made the best efforts to bridge the gap between you, but for you to fear him? That seems a tad unnecessary, and more than a tad insulting. It’s more than enough to make the sadistic streak in him want to give you something to be scared about.

But he’s never been impulsive and he just quietly sits beside you on the floor, reassuring you it’s fine to play, smirking when you sneak little side glances his way as you continue collecting fruits.

“Kozume, do you want to play-”

“Just call me Kenma.”

Entranced eyes watch as you grow flustered at his words, mouth silently testing the weight of his given name in your mouth. For once, Kenma could care less about playing video games when a shaky timid “Kenma” slips past your soft lips.

“Kenma, do you want to play something together?”

You have no idea how badly he really does want to play together, but it’s a game you’re not ready for. So he calls upon any restraint he has to pluck your device from your hands and change the game to Mario Kart.

It’s amusing how easily you soften besides him, brow furrowing in concentration, eyes intently and eagerly following the screen, any anxiousness quickly forgotten as you get into the game. He greedily watches as you pout when you make a mistake, as your eyes light up every time you pass someone.

If he had known how easy it would be to make you warm up to him, he’d have done this sooner and he genuinely laughs when you whine and fake glare at him as he wins yet another round.

He asks about school. You ask about work. He tells you about his childhood. You share your own stories.

It’s a comfortable rhythmic back and forth and he’s afraid of ruining it, but a certain question nags at his mind, a question he knows may ruin the entire flow of the conversation.

“You’ll be graduating soon. Have you decided what you want to do after college?”

“Kenma not you too!!!”

His shoulders relax at how well you react to the question, smiling at the way you flop onto your back and groan about how mom and dad are already on your case about future plans.

“I’ve been applying to places, but who knows. Maybe I’ll just work for you at Bouncing Ball.”

There’s a playful lilt in your voice when you say it, a giggle and teasing smile accompanying the words. But there’s nothing funny about it to Kenma and your smile falters a bit when you see how tightly Kenma’s gripping his controller, the way his eyes pin you down.

“Kenma? It’s just a joke. I would never take advantage of-”

You try to get up from your reclined position, only to whimper in confusion when Kenma’s hand on your shoulder forces you back down. And suddenly you’re pinned down by more than just his stare as he moves to straddle you, knees on either side of your body, hands next to your head, his whole body caging yours.

It’s a lighthearted joke in the family that if all else fails, you could always work at Bouncing Ball. A joke your step-father and mother always dish out when the arguments get too tense as the three of you talk about your future. But it’s become less in jest for Kenma, especially after Kuroo sent him a scandalous picture of his newest secretary kneeling between his long legs, lips wrapped around his cock.

It wasn’t the first picture, nor was it the last incriminating photo the older businessman had sent him. Kenma merely rolled his eyes before deleting the image from his phone, wondering when Kuroo would grow bored and find a new toy to play with. But he freezes when he sees the following text message from his long-time friend.

“You’re the CEO of a company, Kenma. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone convenient around? A pretty warm body? I bet that cute new step sister of yours would look really good under your desk. Doesn’t she graduate from college soon? If you don’t make a move, maybe I’ll snatch her up right from under your nose. I’m due for a change of secretary soon.”

There’s absolutely no reason for the hot anger that lances through him at Kuroo’s taunting words and he grimaces at playing right into his ex-captain’s hands, already hearing Kuroo’s braying laughter in his head if the older man saw just how much his words affected him.

But initial irritation aside, he lets himself really think, really imagine what a life with you at his beck and call would be like. And he likes what he sees. He doesn’t delete Kuroo’s photos as quickly as he used to, replacing the female faces with yours in his imagination as his hands slip under the hem of his boxers.

He knows it’s a longshot, knows there’s a high chance you’ll continue your lives as is, never destined to exchange more than a few polite greetings at family outings. But now...now hearing you voice the idea out loud yourself, hearing the way his first name sounds from your lips…

Maybe it’s not the silly pipe dream he had believed it to be.

“I’m in need of an assistant if you really do want to work at Bouncing Ball, but you’d need to prove why it would be worth hiring you.”

He almost laughs at how you perk up despite the precarious position you’re in, almost ready to launch into an elevator pitch of your qualifications flat on your back underneath him. You’re quite the multitasker already and he groans at the thought of having you cockwarm him while he tests out a new video game, making you answer all his calls stuffed full of him and desperately trying to hide the lustful tremble in your voice.

But he’s not here to listen to your carefully crafted speech. (Guess you really were practicing for job interviews like you said you were. What a good girl.) And he firmly presses his lips against yours to silence you, taking his time to immerse himself in the way your mouths mold against each other.

Your taste, your smell, your warmth. It’s all intoxicating and he slips his tongue inside your parted lips, subtly rutting his groin against your body. He can feel your body jostle as you lift your arms and he waits for the weight of your arms to lovingly wrap around his neck, only to be shocked when you weakly press against his shoulders until he finally relents and pulls back just enough to look down at you in irritated confusion.

“We- we shouldn’t be doing this.”

It’s not the words that have him clenching his fists, not even the way your palms still timidly press against him in a laughably weak show of defense.

It’s the fear in your eyes, the way you look at him like he’s some monster. It's the way he can almost palpably feel and hear your desire to be anywhere other than here, with anyone other than him, wishing to put as much space between the two of you as possible.

It’s your rejection.

It hurts to know that he isn’t enough just as he is, that he needs to resort to less...savory and straightforward ways to entrap you. But he’s not Hinata or Kuroo. He doesn’t have an electrifying personality or roguishly handsome features and charm to woo you. He only has his cunning and sharp tongue.

And he fully intends on maximizing his gifts.

“Of course, you don’t have to. You can just keep on applying and getting rejected by every company you speak to, if they even bother meeting with you after seeing your pathetic resume. Average college. Average grades. Average major. Tell me, how many interviews have you actually been reached out to for?”

He’s going out on a bit of a limb, but his suspicions are right and he cruelly smirks at the way tears bubble in your eyes at his words, no comeback or denial rolling off the tip of your tongue. He had a feeling you were struggling from the bits and pieces he’s picked up as your parents quietly talk and fret over you actually being able to find a job after graduation.

“Our parents are too nice to say anything about it, but you know they’re disappointed in you, right? Have you noticed how they always avoid talking about how school is going or asking you about how job hunting is going? How they only ask me how work is going? It’s because they know you’re just a loser whose life is going to amount to nothing.”

“That’s not true! They love me-”

“I’m not saying they don’t love you, but doesn’t that make it even worse? Making your loving and caring parents worry and stress over you when they should be preparing for retirement, an easy life? Instead of letting them finally enjoy a carefree life, you’ll be their freeloader daughter who uses up all their remaining funds. Is that what you want?”

You really are too easy and his lips curl in satisfaction at the way you frantically shake your head side to side, fat wet drops streaming down your face, adorable sniffles filling the air.

“If you become my assistant, I’ll compensate you well. You can live here with me, have your own room, a roof over your head, all the food and clothing you need and want. Think about how relieved and happy our parents will be seeing you provided for, seeing us getting along. Isn’t that what you want? For them to be happy?”

He knows how close you are to your mom, how important this idea of a perfect family is to you. He knows how insecurity and doubt about your own capabilities torment you. And he knows you’re hooked on his claws when your hands that are still pressed against his shoulders drop limply besides you, not even a hint of resistance left in you when he leans down once more to rest his forehead on yours, one hand cupping the side of your face.

“This is all you’re good for anyway. Working underneath me.”

If you notice his pun, you don’t acknowledge it, too busy wincing and squirming as he harshly nips and bites a trail from your lips to your neck as he pushes up the hem of your shirt until your chest is on full display for him. There’s something experimental, cold, meticulous about the way he gropes and fondles your breasts.Your face heats in humiliation at how he treats you like one of the many game consoles he’s reviewed for his audience.

But you don’t do anything about it, telling yourself that this is just his version of an interview as he pinches and prods at you, meanly twisting your nipples and chuckling at your yelp of pain. You obediently let him spread your legs apart, only letting out an agonized cry as he tests your flexibility, staring at him with a trembling lower lip as he sharply tells you to shut up while scrutinizing your panty-covered sex.

“You really are made for this, aren’t you?”

You whimper as he nudges the small wet spot on the thin fabric, clenching your eyes shut in denial at how hot and wound up your body feels from his touch, unable to hide your gasp as he pulls the layer aside and rubs your aroused clit.

There’s something so different about the way his fingers slowly sink into your wet pussy, almost lazily curling against your soft walls, his thumb never stopping its careful massage on the bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. So different from your own fingers desperately thrusting in and out of you. So different from the drunk partners you’ve hooked up with at college and their sloppy, rapid, frantic movements.

You can feel something large, something intimidating slowly rising from deep inside of you, a volcano about to erupt compared to the bright and fast to fade shooting stars you’re used to. You’re scared. Scared of the intoxicating feeling, of how easy it is to grow accustomed to Kenma’s presence, of how his cat-like eyes are all you can see and think of.

How can something feel so wrong and so right at the same time?

That’s the last coherent thought you have before your world goes blank, pleasure rocking through you as you soak the carpet and your step-brother’s hand with your juices. You’re moaning as Kenma continues to rock his fingers in and out of you, fingertips insistently massaging your clit and g-spot as you ride out your orgasm, body trembling and convulsing.

But even when the tremors slow, when pleasure becomes something sharper, more overwhelming, he doesn’t stop. You wail, begging him to stop, to let you rest, slumping in relief when he finally drags his hands away from you, carelessly wiping the mess you’ve made of his hand on your skin, covering you in your own essence.

Your heavy eyelids threaten to flutter shut as you let exhaustion wash over you, already dreading having to get up and wash yourself. But you’re shocked back to reality as something hard begins to nudge at your still fluttering entrance.

“Kenma! No! Too much-”

You break off into a sob as surprisingly strong hands dig into your hips, holding you still as he pushes and pushes until he’s fully settled inside of you, balls resting against your ass.

You’re still so tight, your quivering walls clamping around the intrusion, and he groans at the thought of being able to sink into this hole every day, multiple times, whenever he wants. His cock is already aching from holding off for so long, from watching your body and face contorted in pleasure. Kenma can feel his end quickly approaching as you scream and wail underneath him, eyes rolling back in your head, drool trickling from the corner of your mouth. You look absolutely obscene and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this side of you.

But despite the way his balls are tightening, despite the stutter in his hips, he’s determined to watch you fall apart once more, to see you shatter to pieces yet again. He grits his teeth, fingers reaching down to furiously rub at your already oversensitized clit, reveling in how your back arches, thighs shaking in overstimulation, and then you snap.

He wonders what his parents would think of their dear dumb daughter now, looking nothing like their silly angel, looking like a wanton used whore, incoherent garbled noises slipping past your lips as you twitch uncontrollably, your pussy milking him dry as he cums inside of you.

There’s only silence mixed with your pitiful whimpers as he slides out of you, grimacing at the sticky mess you’ve made of yourself and him. But that’s what your other hole is for and he orders you to suck him clean, admiring what a quick learner you are, eager to please as you noisily slurp and lick him clean, moaning at the taste of your combined fluids...

Maybe too eager and he shoves you off of him when you become too enthusiastic, his cock beginning to twitch in interest once more.

You look so lost, still sprawled out on the ground, staring up at him with wide imploring eyes as he pulls up his pants. So vulnerable and in need of guidance.

Good thing you have such a great boss to manage you.

“Not bad. Consider these next few days your internship and if all goes well, I’ll be more than happy to hire you as Bouncing Ball’s newest employee this summer. Now clean up this room and show me that my future assistant can do more than just be a slut.”

[beann-e]

“ honestly Suna sometimes it feels like your just sitting there — calculating — thinking of ways that you can piss me off” you let out in a huff of anger as you slammed your hand onto the arm rest placed in the middle of the car. Voice loud enough to be heard from a mile away and then some “ And then you don’t even fucking care “

“ I’m sorry you feel that way “

“ seriously ? seriously Suna “

“ oh I’m sorry would you like me to say it jokingly? “

The silence that towered over the both of you was tall and it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon “ WELL WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY “ his hand came up to run down his face as he sighed

“ look I'm sorry baby but — “

“ but nothing — I'm tired Rin—I'm tired of you screwing with me“ you groaned “ honestly at this point just fuck off “

he moved to pull the keys from the car unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the car door as your jaw hung open “ what the fuck Suna — “

“ I'm fucking off you ungrateful bit—“

“ you asshole — all of a sudden you take everything literal right ?? huh only when you want to right “

“ y’know what— no you fuck off —ok y/n “

“ see that’s what I'm talking about “

“ honestly I doubt you even know what you were talking about in the first place “

your steps quickened as you followed after the male who stopped at your front door imputing the code and opening your house door “ This is what I mean by you keep fucking with me Suna “

“ oh “ he moved to sit down on the couch arms flung behind it and legs spread wide out in front of him. “ is it really— because , the 40 minute argument in the car about your best friend hitting on me didn’t quite make that clear “ he scoffed shaking his head along with it “ your shitty reasoning must of gotten lost on one of the many streets of Japan y/n “

His eyes glowing body perking up with his next sentence “ yknow what how about you go find it hmm then we can have this little talk sometime later -- preferably when I'm sleeping id hate to be awake for another one of your hellish complaints babe.”

your anger was only growing as the argument continued “ you fucking douchebag I bet you don’t even know why I'm pissed off “

He let out a small sigh of a laugh his legs shaking and hitting each other in a wave before they resumed their earlier position “ I don’t“

“ and you don’t care either do you “

“ I don’t “

Your heart broke for the first time ever in your relationship with the stoic male after hearing his words and tone. In all the time you and your boyfriend had been together you two never argued about his lack of emotion or care.

It never bothered you

It never affected you

until it did

4 hours ago

You smiled up at the taller male as his mouth continued to run while talking to the rest of his volleyball team. This was the first time you’d ever seen him talk for more than 5 minutes with anything other then yeah’s and small mhmms.

The both of you had been invited to a class reunion and you only decided to go because of his new teams constant nagging

Suna had been telling you all week to find something else to do and that you didn’t have to go with him. That it would be too boring and long and that you would be better off having fun without him.

Of course you put up a fight but, ultimately lost and decided to hang out by yourself for the earlier half of the day spending last weeks paycheck on this weeks shopping spree

it felt nice to treat yourself but you couldn’t help but want to treat your boyfriend too. The thought of him being bored alone plagued your mind and you had to get it out.

The only way to do that was to go to the reunion.

Now how you imagined it would go is you show up in your fancy new dress surprising him smile a bit , talk up some of the host and sneak your way in and then mingle and go home and cuddle and kiss your boyfriend all night

funny thing is somewhere in that prewritten script you had created you didn’t realize imagination is not always reality.

The sight of your boyfriend leaning against a wall with a glass in his hand and his other on the string of your best friends dress had you reeling in the disgust that you wanted to spill so badly on the floor right now

All you’d done was go to the restroom but now you sat with your eyes widening while you watched his eyebrows come together in annoyance with the string that wouldn’t come undone.

Your best friend faced away from him back to his chest and a small smile on her face. Cheeks heated from his touch and in that moment you cursed her for having a look on her face that made it visible how much she enjoyed his warmth. You wished she didn’t make it so obvious how the closeness to your boyfriend was making her feel

how it was encouraging her

Your heart broke when you seen Suna finally relax and blow air out of his cheeks before nodding softly almost thanking the gods that he figured it out and it was over

Your feet moving before you could even process what to say to either of them.

“ y-y/—“

your hand came in contact with your best friends face before she could even finish the loud slap echoing through the room as everyone turned to find the source of the noise

Eyebrows raising when they noticed it was not only a slap but a full on one sided battle between you and the girl who everyone seen as nice and quiet during your school years

They never knew of the undercover bitch that was lurking behind the surface. They’d never see the way she was smirking as she took every hit given to her in stride. Your boyfriends hands wrapping around your torso as he looked down and seen that you were hovering over her ripping her to bits

You never letting go of the grip your thighs held around her own as she whispered to where only you could hear “ aw poor y/n’s defending someone that doesn’t even want em—gonna go to jail for someone so unloyal huh “

Your eyes lit up with pure hatred as the security made their way over to you reaching to take you from Sunas hold and lessening your grip on the woman beneath you

“ sir we need you to let her go “

“ don’t touch me until you actually make it all the way to police academy you fucking lowlife. “ you spit out “ how the hell do you only make it to security much less high school reunion security “

“ the hell do you know — you don’t even know how hard police academy is asshole “

“ ah I bet your kids’ll be real proud “ your eyes squinted at his name tag “ todd — you kiss your wife with that mouth “

you laughed eyes rolling from him to suna “ or are you like this asshole and kiss your mistress with it instead ? huh toodles ? “

“ ha — ‘m gonna have fun with you--ya little prick. sir — let ‘em go or else i’ll pull out the big guns — they snuck in here and now their disrespecting an officer “

“ big guns “ your laugh circulated through the room “ ‘k sure let me stop before I get pepper sprayed “

“ my hands already on the trigger you lil bitc— “

“ hey “ sunas voice growled behind you “ watch who the fuck your talking to toodles“

“ just— get—get the fuck off dude I didn’t go to police academy so I could avoid this — their full on disrespecting me come on man get off“ your face scrunched up in annoyance as you saw the security look like they were about to cry

“ well I mean — “ he sighed “ it’s not like your a real officer right“ suna sighed out as he began to bite his lip in worry “ I mean we can let this slide right ? “ he nodded looking towards the males name badge “ uh toodles“

He coughed “ todd — I mean todd “

“ I’m sorry but, even if I could “ his gaze dead set on you “ which I really don’t want to — seeing as though they disrespected me “

His voice sounding proud as he continued “ and I'll have you know I'm security guard of the mouth asshole “

“ oh whoop dee fucking do Tinkerbelle ”

“ y-fucking-/n “ you could feel the way Suna was seething above you breath hot and you could tell his face was made up in a snarl “ if you don't shut the fuck up I swear on Atsumu’s unwashed boxers ill leave your ass prison letters starting tonight “

“ see —— sir I'm trying “ he sighed “ I really am trying to let this go but — “

“ their with me — “

“sure “ he scoffed “ I'll need to see some relations or — “

“ their my s/—their my plus one “ his eyes moved to look at everyone surrounding you guys then back to the position he now held you in before finally dropping you to the floor. Your heart dropping and ears tuning everything out from that point on.

Everything on mute until you got in the car and were finally met with his low voice as he buckled you in and walked to his side turning the car on “ y/n “

You turned to look out the window “ y/n that — “

His voice was so hard but so weak “ y/n that was so fucking embarrassing “ Your body shivered at his words

“ having to watch my fucking s/o almost get fucking arrested “

His hands tightened their grip on the wheel “ then turning around and having to talk you out of it in front of our whole graduating class “

his voice went deadpanned as he swerved a bit on the road mixing lanes “ and — and my team — oh fuck my team “

he started to breathe a bit heavier as you began to feel bad hearing the sadness in his voice. His body shifting in his seat “ all so you could “

he laughed a bit at the situation “ all so you could take your ugly ass insecurities out on your friend ? “

he scoffed looking from you to the road and back to you “ when did you two even stop being friends huh ? did I miss that or ?? do friends just go out and leave bruises on each other or is that something new? What-- is it like a new TikTok trend -- a fashion statement huh ?? the fuck is it because, I'm not a friend person so maybe you know something I don’t “

He scoffed “ maybe — maybe I'll never be a friend person after something like that. If friends are just beating each other’s asses in broad day light out the fucking blue then I'll just stick with ‘tsumu at least I know I can beat his ass if he were to pull some shit like that “

‘ friend ‘ you thought silently

“ poor kid didn’t even see it coming “ he shook his head at you turning back to the road “ holy hell that’s shameful y/n “

he whispered “ I don’t even wanna think about the rumors that’ll spread about us tomorrow “

The car was quiet only for a minute as Suna re arranged his thoughts before he could beat into you again “ friend Suna ? “

your voice was dry “ Rin do friends help each other out of their clothes ? “

your eyebrows creased “ do they focus so intently on another woman while their own is in the same room “

“ I didn’t know you were there “

“ SO YOU ONLY TAKE FRIENDS CLOTHES OFF WHEN IM NOT THERE “

“ NO I “

“ YOU ONLY TOUCH OTHER WOMEN WHEN IM NOT THERE “

“ y/n jus— “ he took a deep breathe and let it out “ just shut up its not like that “ he let out an uncomfortable and tired scoff of a laugh “ it wasn't like that “

“ it’s always shut up Suna it’s never ‘ what’s wrong y/n ‘ ‘ are you ok y/n ‘ it’s just ‘ shut up I don’t wanna talk so you don’t wanna talk either ‘ “

you locked eyes with the male in front of you “ I'm done Rin I'm— I'm done “

“ you cant leave me-- heh not after that shit you pulled back there  “ 

“ fuck if I cant--you don't look like my legs to me and as far as I know their still Bluetooth connected to my mind so-- “

“ you'll be an overnight clown you-you need me y/n “ he shook his head “ we need each other “ 

“ no you need volley ball because you need money-- because guess what asshole as of right now-- your homeless”

“ fuck you as if “

“ we’re over Suna don't let my words finally hit you when you walk out the shitty door”

“ that’s fine by me “ he scoffed “ get the hell out for all I care — I'll pack your shit for you “

“ no— I'll pack your shit asshole your living  in my house bottom feeder “

“ if you don’t shut the fuck u— “

“ then what ? huh what — you’ll leave me “

“ I swear to god I'll —”

“ you’ll what cheat on me with my best friend ah I'm so scared — “ your voice holding nothing but mock enthusiasm “ I can just imagine the way you’ll kiss her when I'm not there — these thoughts for some reason almost feels real y’know “

you watched as the man you’d taught yourself to love for 7 years since high school finally walked out the door. His perfume from earlier still hanging in the air long after the door slammed. Your mind racing when you were finally brought to one thought

‘ how did we end up like this and how the hell do we get back ‘

[dauntless-gothamite]

Prove Them Wrong [3/?]

Fandom: Divergent Pairing: Eric Coulter x Fem! Reader Summary: Y/N is a Dauntless transfer from Erudite, and she has a drive, an ambition that sets her apart--it always has, even back in Erudite. She brings her perseverance (and need to prove others wrong) to Dauntless when she transfers, and she uses her mind to make her way through the initiation process. Along the way, she makes friends and enemies, and she finds herself comfortable around the man most people in Dauntless avoid at all costs: Eric Coulter. A/N: I like what I did with the end of this one, putting a (hopefully) comedic/unique twist on a trope and adding something original :) feedback is very much appreciated, happy reading

When you walked into the training room the next morning, everyone avoided looking at your face, specifically, your neck. Instead, people looked at the ground. You knew you had bruises around your neck from where Peter had grabbed you, but you hadn’t expected a group of dauntless to be so touchy about it; bruises were common here. 

“Alright, listen up!” Four yelled. “We are doing some target practice today, so line up and get throwing,” he said, pointing to the line of targets against the wall. At least you weren’t fighting today; your body could use a break. That fight with Peter really had worn you out, and since you guys had thrown knives a couple times already, you were starting to get familiar with the technique. 

You walked up to a free target and looked over the knives positioned on the table before you, holding one and turning it over in your hand. “Well? Are you going to throw that knife or just stare at it all day?” the gruff, aggressive voice of Eric asked. You turned to look at him, and a part of you was pleased to notice that he was looking you in the face, not avoiding your eyes and neck like everyone else around here. 

One side of your mouth quirked up in the beginning of a smile before you replied, “I’m about to throw it.”

“Then get on with it!” Without hesitation, you turned your body to the target, and you positioned your feet similar to how you would if you were throwing punches instead of knives. Gripping the handle, you drew the knife back, aimed, and twisted forward, releasing the knife as you traced an invisible arc over your head. The knife stuck to the target with a thud, but it was a little lower than you’d hoped it would be. Eric nodded and said “Get that figured out before I get back, and maybe I won’t yell at you,” before walking away to stand behind some other initiate, most likely to stress them out so much that they’d miss the target completely. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t yell at me very much, you thought to yourself. Because I don’t break under the pressure of his judgemental stare. After taking many math tests with teachers walking around the room, looking over each student’s shoulder as they frantically scribbled down answers, you were used to being watched and assessed. 

Picking up the next knife, you lined yourself up just like you did before and repeated the motion, letting go of the knife a bit earlier this time. The knife landed at the height you wanted it to, but it was a little far to the side. Grabbing for the next knife, you made sure that this time you didn’t twist as much, but you did everything the same way you did before, and the third knife landed just a few millimeters from where you’d aimed, but you were satisfied. Smirking to yourself, you looked to either side before walking forward cautiously to grab the knives from the target. As you grabbed the first knife’s handle and pulled it out of the target, you heard the sound of a knife flying through the air near your head, and in an instant, said knife embedded itself just a centimeter above your head in the target. 

“What the fuck!” you yelled. Whipping around to glare at whichever person’s knife had gone so far off course, you saw Eric standing where you had been standing to throw the knives with a smirk on his face. 

“Just testing you,” he said nonchalantly. You scowled in response, eyeing the knife he still held in his hands. You locked eyes with him, and his smirk grew wider as you backed up against the target, knowing what would come next, right before Eric’s second knife landed between your arm and your torso. You turned back around to grab your knives, and Eric said “Grab mine too, initiate.” While you were turned around, you rolled your eyes, but you did retrieve his knives for him, passing them back to him curtly. He grabbed them out of your hands, fingers brushing ever so slightly in the process, before turning around to torment someone else. 

--

At dinner, just as you were about to take a bite of your hamburger, Will asked, “How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Get Eric not to hate you!”

“He doesn’t like me,” you scoffed.

“At the very least, he doesn’t yell at you every five minutes,” Tris butted in, to which Will and Christina nodded fervently. 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Luck, I guess?”

“No way, luck could not possibly get that man to be even a little bit nice to anybody,” Christina countered. 

“Ok, maybe not, but like I said, I don’t know! Maybe it’s because I don’t crack under pressure or something.”

“Something like that,” Will conceded with a sigh before turning on Tris. “Your turn; what’s going on with you and Four?”

“Nothing!” Tris replied. 

“Come on, don’t lie to us,” Christina said. You badly wanted to say something to try and get more information out of Tris, but you refrained just in case they decided to turn back on you and start asking about Eric again. 

“I don’t know,” Tris said. “He’s cute, though,” she admitted with flushed cheeks. 

The banter between you all went on like that for a little while as everyone ate their dinner, until Will got up and said, “I’ll see you guys back at the dorm; I want to get there early and hit the showers while everyone is still at dinner. Get a little privacy for once,” and stood up with a smile. 

As soon as Will was out of earshot, you leaned across the table to Christina and said “So, when are you finally going to tell Will you like him?” you smirked. 

“What? No,” Christina said.

“Come on, Tris, back me up here,” you said.

“She has a point,” Tris said with a nod. 

“You guys are unbelievable!” Christina said and stood up, prompting you and Tris to do the same, and then you all headed out of the dining area together to stroll through dauntless for a little while before going back to the dorm so as to give Will some privacy. 

“You know, I think I’m going to try and shower early as well,” Tris said as the three of you walked. “But don’t worry, Christina, I won’t look at Will,” she winked and laughed before peeling off towards the dorm.

“Hey!” Christina yelled after her as you stood next to her, doubled over in laughter. 

“Will, can you calculate the speed at which my fist hits the punching bag? Can you--” you teased Christina.

“Stop it!” she shrieked, her blush deepening.

“Just admit that you like him, it should be easy for an ex-Candor!”

“Fuck off!” she said, but there was no malice in her tone. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, and that was the last straw before Christina gave you a hard shove, making you stumble as you laughed at her expense. Then your body collided with something solid. You heard whomever you had just crashed into growl in frustration as you stared at their black boots. Eric’s black boots. Your laughter died in your throat as you stood, taking note of the numerous pages and folders that were undoubtedly full of important files in them scattered across the floor. You made eye contact with Christina’s, who at least had the decency to look guilty as she retreated down the hallway, as Eric said “Well, initiate. I don’t know what you were doing, nor do I care, but the rest of your evening will be spent reorganizing the files you just scattered everywhere.” 

You nodded as you made eye contact with him before bending over to pick up the pages on the floor. Once you had picked everything up, Eric started walking and you followed up three flights of stairs and down a hallway, eventually coming to a stop outside a door which he unlocked. You followed him inside as he turned on the lights, and looking around, you knew this was his office. “You will sort these pages by category and date, then leave them on my desk when you’re finished, understood?”

“Actually, I have a question,” you asked as an idea occurred to you. He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“What?”

“Wouldn’t something physical be a better punishment? Just because I happen to be good at sorting, this feels like it’s--”

“No,” Eric said. “I know what you’re doing. Trying to get an advantage by extra training and building it into something you already have to do. I’m not an idiot, Y/N.”

Nervous to push him any further, you decided to throw one more thing out there, and if he didn’t take it well you would shut it and sort the files. “Well, of course not, you are from Erudite originally, so--”

“Who told you that,” Eric asked, annoyed. You weren’t sure, but you thought you saw a glimpse of something else in his eyes for a moment. 

“No one, it’s just that Ms. McKimmerer talked about you all the time.”

“That old math teacher? He asked incredulously”

“Yeah, she always said ‘Eric Coulter memorized more digits of pi than any other student in his year, try to be more like him’ and ‘It’s a shame he left Erudite’ when she taught us about pi.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Eric scoffed. “And don’t mention that to anyone, initiate!”

“I won’t!” you said, slightly amused. After a brief pause, you said,  “But you should know, there is even a picture of you from that year on her desk, with your hair combed back and a blue collared shirt.”

Eric paused for a moment, and you did your best not to break, but eventually you howled in laughter; his wide-eyed reaction was just too funny.

Scowl in place, Eric schooled his face into a calm, if annoyed mask, and said “get to work on those files. I will check back in a bit to see if you’re done sorting them.” Then, he walked out and shut the door behind him. Chuckling to yourself, you got to work on the large stack of paper before you.

--

The door opened loudly and you woke up to the sound of Eric Coulter clearing his throat. “Did you finish sorting the files before falling asleep at my desk, initiate?” 

Sitting up, slightly embarrassed, you nodded. “Good. Now get out of my office and go eat dinner.”

You stood from the desk, hesitating for a minute. “I actually wanted to ask you something,” you said, turning to face Eric. 

“Yes?”

“Well, I noticed you have a few books in here, and I was wondering if I could borrow Mental Conditioning: Getting Your Mind and Body On the Same Page. I wasn’t looking through your stuff, it’s just on the self over there--”

“I know where my own damn book is,” he said, walking over to it and grabbing the book off the shelf. “Here,” he said, handing it to you. “Return it when you're done, and it better be in the same condition it is now when I get it back, understood?”

“Yes, thank you!” you smiled at him, pleasantly surprised that he was letting you borrow the book.

--

That night, when you got back to the dorm room, you read a few pages of Eric’s book before going to bed. It was a little hard to focus with all the noise--you’d find a better spot to read tomorrow--but you were happy nonetheless; while dauntless was great, you had missed all the books that were available to you at Erudite. As your eyes grew tired, you reached into your bag under your bed, which held your few belongings--every initiate got one--and pulled out a napkin you had been doodling some tattoo ideas on during lunch, placed it between the pages to act as a bookmark, and put the book away in the bag. You closed your eyes, surrounded by your friends, mind calm from reading, and for a moment, despite the lingering pain around your neck, you were completely at peace as you drifted off to sleep. 

Tag List: @shykoolaid, @taina-eny​, @parabatai-winchester​, @marvel-ousnesss​

[caspianjames]

Having Young Royals brain rot now about August??? I think he’s often made out to be the villain and he’s really,,,not??? Did he do a shitty thing? Absolutely. Do I think he’s a bad person? Absolutely not. He’s incredibly well written and I think in a lot of ways he’s very easy to empathize with. Here’s why.

That kid has pretty much everything going against him. Canonically he’s what? 17? 18? His dad is dead, he clearly doesn’t have a good relationship with his mom or stepdad, he’s clearly never had a safe space to process his dads death and work on recovering, he’s relying on stimulants to get through school, the girl he likes decides to date him but only cuz she can’t get his cousin, he has virtually no caring adults in his life, he’s bankrupt and terrified that the only semblance of normalcy he has left (hillerska) will be ripped out from under him. That kid is a fucking mess and absolutely the consequences of this mean he’s going to lash out. He gives so many warning signs that he’s not doing okay too. But so, to break this down point by point:

1. His dead died in a rather horrific manner, his mom moved on but clearly was not around to make sure that her son was okay. He’s often referred to a stupid or prideful for not wanting to give up part of the family estate so he’s not bankrupt except that’s the only thing he has left of his dad. And it’s not even his fault he’s bankrupt, he’s a kid!

2. Not having a safe space to process his dad dying is sort of visibly a given, but actually to take that one step further I think he DID have a safe space. It was Erik. And then Erik died and this kid truly has nothing, not even Wille because he was more interested in Simon than paying attention to what August was going through (which isn’t Wille’s fault, he hardly knew August and clearly had different values and stuff from august. But watching the show I get the feeling August is really looking to be someone meaningful to Wille and Wille just,,,really doesn’t like him). He said this in a roundabout way to Felice, too, when he was jealous of her relationship with Willhelm. It was something like “you’re my girlfriend, you’re supposed to comfort me so that I can comfort him.” Which I think is a two fold thing where firstly, no one realizes how hard Erik’s death hit him and how much he needs someone to tell him that stuff is going to be alright, but secondly, the last thing we see Erik tell him is to take care of Wille. So now he also feels like he’s failing to do that. And Willie, the one person who he could relate to about Erik, hardly wants anything to do with him.

3. I am SO interested to see where the plot will go with the meds he’s relying on. I don’t think it’s ever actually made clear if he thinks he DOES have ADHD or whether he’s just using the meds to cope but either way it’s a problem that shows he doesn’t have adequate support, you know? Even the school counsellor dude was just like “ok guess ur gonna walk out of my office bye then” instead of altering the headmaster or his parents or a teacher he trusts or ANYTHING. And, as the season progresses he gets more volatile. Why? He’s out of meds (and, whether or not he actually has ADHD and needs meds, that means he’s low on dopamine and is going to start doing stupider stuff to get his brain to reward him). (Side note, given the role ADHD and also substance abuse plays in the series I really, really hope they do both concepts justice)

4. Felice dating him even though she has no interest. No hate to her for that, honestly, I don’t think she was really interested in anyone except making her parents happy with her. She’s under a whole different kind of pressure. But august? He clearly really likes her and is trying hard with her, until everything sort of falls out of his grasp nearer the end of the season cuz he thinks she’s in love with Wille and is otherwise not coping well at all.

SO ALL THAT leads up to him outing Wille, which we see from Wille’s POV but never really from August’s, right? We see Wille yelling at August about how he was supposed to be able to trust him, but honestly I think from August’s POV Wille broke that trust first. We said already that pretty much the only thing August had left going for him was Hillerska, and by extension his friends and community there. When Wille wants them to make Alex take the fall for the drugs to save Simon, he literally exposes August and basically rips that away from him sooner than August is ready for, because now all the boys know that he’s bankrupt. In Wille’s mind it’s not a big deal - it’s a means to an end and he already knows he’s asked his mom to cover August’s tuition. It’s a very calculated but very smart move.

Except that Hillerska is all that August has left, and in a sense, Wille takes that away from him. Can you imagine how horrible that would feel for August from someone he trusted?? And honestly there is nothing more dangerous than someone who has been wronged and feels like they have nothing to lose. You can tell when Sara sees August at the computer. He doesn’t make up a story, he doesn’t care. He just wants to hurt Wille back in the only way that he can regardless of the consequences.

I don’t even think he’s homophobic or anything, either. He took the video initially to make fun of Wille with, and then when he realized what it was he didn’t say anything. But in that moment that was the one thing he had on Wille that he could weaponize because he knew it would be taken badly by the general public. 

And then he gets the call of his tuition being paid and you can see reality crash down around him when he realizes rationally what he’s done.

Anyways. My conclusion is. This poor kid has literally no one looking out for him. Like, not a single person. And that’s what happens, you know? No one does horrible things or irreparable damage to themselves or others on a whim. There’s almost always a build-up of hopelessness or anger that has to overflow first. This is a real life thing. This shit is preventable. And I really, really hope we get to see that with August. I hope we get a redemption, but an honest one. Because no matter what led to his actions, they still have real consequences. I hope the show creates a storyline where we see him getting what he needs from the adults around him while also having to deal with the consequences of his actions. 

[youryanderedaddy]

Love Fuel

Summary: You were Jason’s first love before you broke his heart and rejected him. It’s all your fault that he can’t move on.

Tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, incel behavior, nice guy behavior, self - hatred, threats of non-con, implied non - con, implied masturbation, bullying based on appearance (not reader), deregatory language, kidnapping, misogyny, generalizations, stalking

this is a hot mess but its 1 am and i am tired, ik that incels are bad irl (obviously), but this is fiction and I kinda wanted to explore the dynamic and shit. 

Everyone used to call him JJ or The-Big-Jay back in high school. Well, most of the time his classmates weren’t really calling out to him or even talking to him, the names were whispered behind his back, after he had just passed the hallway, or on bad days - right to his face. The jocks, these dumb motherfuckers, would beat him up, mock him for whatever stupid reasons they had chosen to use as an excuse to torment the smaller and weaker. The popular girls would giggle like brainless bimbos as Kyle or Brad or any other football player stole his glasses or continuously punched him in the guts until he threw up all over the floor. Even the nerds, the kids at the bottom of the school hierarchy, messed with Jason from time to time when they wanted to feel the oh - so desired rush of power they so rarely managed to experience. 

Looking back, Jason could see why his classmates hated him so much - he was everything that society deemed as wrong and unattractive. He was thin, pale, “scrawny” as the others called him, on the shorter side, and on top of that the teen was terribly shy and introverted, never having the guts to stand up to his bullies or even tell someone about the abuse. The male spent most of his free time at home, playing hours upon hours of video games, watching anime and reading books he was simply too young to understand or look critically at. As he grew older, the man began to view the world as it trully was - a dark, miserable place that ate up sore losers like him. Men were primitive and foolish, which somehow managed to soften their faults. Women, on the other hand, were  calculative and manipulative, greedy and sinful. His whole life they had done nothing but reject him when he needed love and support the most. Of course, there were many other reason why the brunette detested the weaker sex. In his eyes women were evil two - faced sluts, showing off their bodies yet acting innocent and hurt once someone finally decided to use them for the only thing they were actually good for.

But you Jason hated the most. You reminded him that no matter how much he hated the outside world, he would always hate himself the most. He had to admit you were pretty, painfully so, with a perfect little body to match your looks and a sweet sugary smile that almost deceived him years ago. As much as the man regretted his weakness, he had fallen right into your trap at the time.

You weren’t the most popular girl, but you had your fair share of friends, all nice and loyal like puppies. You weren’t the smartest either, but unlike the other stupid giggling sluts you always tried to do your best. You were beautiful just like them but you were actually kind to the pathetic bullied kid no one else bothered to acknowledge even existed outside of being a punching bag. You always asked him whether he was alright and often took him to the infirmary when he looked paler and sicker than usual. You talked to him as if he was a normal human being and despite the initial doubt, Jason appreciated it. 

It was the last day of your senior year when the teen finally gained the courage to confess. He was shaking the whole time and by the end of his little speech there were small tears in the corner of his eye. You were the first girl the male cared about, the first one to show him kindness, to offer him friendship without asking for something in return. You were the only one who could make him feel deserving of love, worthy of affection. And then you took it all away in a matter of seconds.

“I am sorry, bud.” You had said that day after giving him a  half - hearted hug and an apologetic smile, that started to seem more and more like a mocking grin the longer the teen started at you. “I already have a boyfriend, but I am really flattered. I am sure that you will find a lovely girl once you start college.” You had added quickly, cheerfully, rubbing the salt all over his wounds, honey dripping from your plump red lips. He had wanted to kiss them, bruise them, bite them until your stupid lying mouth was filled with blood. Obviously you didn’t have a boyfriend or he would have known by now, he stalked your social media religiously after all. Even if you had one, he probably treated you like shit. And how could you even suggest him finding another woman? As if he wanted any of the stupid money - grabbing sluts out there. As if some of them could replace you.

The boy was too furious to form a proper response besides “Fuck you, bitch”. His cheeks turned red and he didn’t realise that the bitter words had escaped his lips before he could stop them, then his legs took him far away from that shithole of a school. He didn’t manage to see your reaction before running away but it didn’t matter anymore. You were just like the others. 

***

That day Jason swore to show you just how small and insignificant you had made him feel. He wanted to see you crumble, cry and beg for forgiveness, desperate for his love but never good enough to get it. The man formed a plan to change himself and come back for you once he had erased each and every trace of his past. The brunette came to terms with his terrible social anxiety and decided that he needed to gain social abilities more than anything. That’s why, as much as he dreamt of working from home as a boring programmer with an even more boring, but flexible working schelude, the male chose to study something that involved a lot more human interactions. The next step was to hit the gym for the first time and get a monthly subscription. It wasn’t hard to see that females nowadays liked brain - dead athletes with defined jawline and cheekbones, toned chests and strong muscled bodies, so if he wanted to impress you, he had to look his best. It wasn’t easy at first - it felt like everyone in the fitness salon had their eyes on his weak frame, laughing and pointing their fingers at his imperfections, but things gradually got better as time went on. The trainings became easier to get through and from time to time they even helped the man forget about his loneliness and nihilism. 

Jason soon returned to his old habbit of spending hours looking through your accounts - Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, he knew all of your usernames, each post, every picture and text. He couldn’t believe how much of a desperate attention whore you had become over the years. The male remembered you in your long brown skirts, cozy sweatshirts and pure-white shirts, all the gray buttons closed to the very top, blushing, laughing, smiling like the adorable Goody-two-shoes you were. Now you were smirking seductively in every photo, overconfident and vibrant, flaunting your tits for every man to see and wearing tight little dresses that barelly covered your ass combined with heels so high and sharp they could be used as a weapon. You were such a stupid slut it was disgusting, and he couldn’t stop himself from jerking off every single time he saw your pretty little face on the screen. He wanted to cum down your throat so badly it was ridiculous, and even after knowing that you had probably already had hundreds of cocks shoved deep inside your pussy, the brunette still wished to see you split open on his, taking his lenght like a good little cocksleeve. 

***

The moment when he could see you again finally came. How many years had passed since graduation - five, ten, fifthteen? It hardly mattered. Jason was successful, at last. The male had his own business that was doing surprisingly well, there were some guys from the gym he could call friends and the best thing, he looked absolutely unrecognizable. There was nothing left of the tiny scrawny kid with quiet voice that everyone stepped over, he was now replaced by a strong capable man, determined to get what was rightfully his and his alone.

It wasn’t hard to find you since the brunette knew everything about you - where your job was, what time you finished, how long it took you to go home and what path you took. You lived alone and worked as a barista in a small local cafe even now that you had finished your studies in your dream faculty. Turns out the princess wasn’t so great and smart after all, having to resort to working a minimal - wage job day and night just to be able to pay her rent. Jason was absolutely delighted though, he loved your stupid dead - end job and your endless struggles to survive in the materialistic world honestly and fairly without selling yourself like a common whore. On one hand the male was happy that you had clung onto your last bit of innocence and on the other your pitiful lifestyle gave him the chance to snatch you away much easier. And that’s exactly what he did.

 ***

You woke up confused just like he had expected, bombarding him with questions, asking him who he was was, begging him to let you go, to at least explain what’s happening. You were so dumb, but God, you were still so pretty, if not prettier than before. You cried so beautifully when Jason told you you belonged to him now and you cried even more when he slammed his cold rough lips over yours in a deep wet kiss. You whimpered and whined while the male sucked on your lower lip and bit down, good, he wanted it to hurt. The stalker couldn’t wait to be inside you, he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

He climbed on top of you and pinned your wrists to the floor before tying them up with delicate red rope and tightening it. It wasn’t like the man was scared of you slipping away and hurting him, you were too weak and tiny to stand a chance against his years of power - lifting and muscle - training anyways, he just wanted you to be as uncomfortable and squirmish as possible. Your tormentor wished for you to be in worse pain than he had been during his youthful years, and he knew exactly what to do. Next thing you knew Jason had ripped your dress apart, leaving you vulnerable and exposed in just your plain old panties and bra. Cold shivers ran down your spine when the chilly air hit your naked flesh and you finally realized there wasn’t getting away from this. You had to stay there, limbs bound together, unable to move or fight back, the stranger’s hands caressing your neck before moving dangerously close to your clothed breasts. You felt so sick you were going to throw up for sure if your abductor didn’t step back so you decided to use your last resort.

“Jason, please stop!” You screamed out of the blue, forcing the brunette to freeze instantly at the use of his birth name. You had already called him a pervert and a psycho which didn’t seem to faze him, but the name clearly caught him off guard. This only seemed to prove your theory further - the man really was your former classmate, despite the only similarity between them being the dark distant look in his eyes. “I beg you, don’t hurt me!” You continued, hoping to at least buy yourself more time before the assault took place. 

He gulped loudly and stared at your quivering form. The impossible had happened, you had recognized him and now together with fear, there was also pity in your gaze, the one emotion your captor absolutely despised. You used to be the only one who pitied him, and even now that he was bigger, better and stronger than before, you still had the guts to pity him. It drove him insane but any attempt to hurt or touch you was fruitless now - your soft skin was suddenly burning his fingers like hellfire. 

“You must be thinking that I am a monster.” Jason started out dryly, chuckling bitterly, humorlessly even. He clenched his fists unconsciously and brought them to the floor in a fit of rage, missing your head by mere inches. Your heart was beating like crazy and you only hoped the mandman couldn’t hear it. “A freak.” The man spat out the word like it was a curse and for a split second his eyes softened before turning into two spinning torches. “Right?” You were sure that if looks could kill, his would have you dead by the end of the night so you quickly nodded your head no.

“You are lying to me again, pretty girl.” The brunette replied feisty, "pretty” rolling off his tongue like an insult. Then he broke into hoarse maniac laugher and lowered his head so his face leveled up with yours, so close you could feel his warm breath on your tear - stained cheek. “When I am done with you, you wouldn’t be so pretty anymore, darling.” Your captor growled and attacked your neck, sinking his teeth deep into the flesh. “You will see exaclty how ugly my love is.”

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight: [REDACTED] “Oh Goddamnit. DANNY!”

Prompt Creator: @mr-lancers-english-class

Even Danny’s school projects cause ghostly issues and Lancer really should have seen this coming.

Alright fine, Lancer knew this was a bad idea. He knew it. And yet... here they all are, with each of his students doing their self-chosen presentations. And as he should have expected, Every. Single. One. has been on Phantom. Sure at least there’s been some variety. Star’s piece on his fashion and how that reflects on his personality and the era he died was actually fairly interesting (if it wasn’t for the fact that Phantom spiced up his jumpsuit with t-shirts and whatnot sometimes then this would have been a very boring one). Kwan also surprised him some, apparently he’s spent the past year or so sneaking photos of Phantom eating and did a piece on Phantom’s rather peculiar food tastes (who dips their pickles in milkshakes???) as well as effectively providing proof for the existence of ectoplasmic food (there’s no way any earth apples are neon green on the inside). Dash’s wasn’t even correctly calculated, trying to figure out how far Phantom could throw footballs based on his known strength and if he could kill someone by tackling them (disturbingly the answer -regardless of Dash’s bad math- was decidedly yes. Daniel seemed particularly disturbed). And Paulina’s was quite literally a badly written self-insert ship fan fic; the added drawings of what their child would look like only made it worse (Daniel left, not that Lancer could blame him. Lancer’s also glad for the ghost fight interrupting the presentation). Emilie’s was... disturbingly about ghost hunger and purposed the thesis that Phantom, for the good of the town, should eat the aggressor ghosts (he actually had to cut her off for getting too graphic).

But the single most interesting thing was that a ghost apparently caught wind of this and literally Every. Single. Presentation so far had words that were permanently replaced with [REDACTED], which, needless to say, caused some chaos when Samantha gave the very first presentation.

-

Lancer clicked his pen, crossing his legs and resting the evaluation sheet on his thigh, “alright, Samantha. Feel free to start whenever you please, though soon would be preferred”, by ‘preferred’ he had meant required, but no need to be mean. He chooses to ignore the goth teen's eyeroll.

Predictably the projected screen doesn’t work when she opens her file so Lancer has to spend ten minutes fiddling with the outdated tech that they wouldn’t give the school funding to replace. Eventually, he does get it up and running showing Ms. Manson’s title screen reading ‘Phantom And Hate Crimes Against Blood Blossoms’. Lancer’s positive ‘blood blossoms’ are a type of flower, figures she would do something nature-focused. She’d make for a great herbalist or botanist someday. He does catch Daniel and Tucker giving her ‘death glares’, as the kids call it, though; Samatha doesn’t look any less smug. The second page has what he thinks was supposed to be a detailed drawing of a flower but it’s severely pixilated, almost as if it been blurred; Samantha looks visibly upset so he’s going to assume something when wrong with the file or pasting format. He’s not marking on artistic capabilities though, so effort is effort there.

She quickly clicks to the next page, where the actual writing of the assignment is and looks decidedly pissed; Lancer even quirks an eyebrow since at least two-thirds of the words are a very bold noticeable [REDACTED]. Lancer watches her yank out her physical copy while glaring with murderous intent at Daniel -Lancer will have to dock him marks if he messed with another student's project- before looking at the physical copy in bafflement for a few seconds. Half the class shrieking when she drops the papers and basically launches herself over the desks at Daniel, “OH YOU LITTLE FUCKER!!!! HOW THE FUCK!”.

Lancer’s sighs and stands, “language, Ms. Manson”, moving to pick up the papers and quirking an eyebrow over them looking the same. Sighing again and eyeing Daniel, who’s being choked -or throttled perhaps?- by Samantha yet is grinning innocently. “Daniel, messing with other students' work is against student policy”, sighing yet again, “and I’ll let Star go while Samantha fixes her document”, summoning up the blonde while glaring at Daniel. Some days that boy was more trouble than he was worth but he was also insanely bright and had a heart of gold. Lancer knows he’ll do good things someday, and that’s why he still tries with him.

Half the class is snickering or laughing now and Star is very clearly trying not to laugh as she sets up.

However, as soon as it opens up the class is met with a very familiar sight. [REDACTED] litters every single page; he checked. And Star’s physical copy was in the same state.

Kwan blinks, “okay seriously, what is going on”, before scrambling to grab out his own physical copy; the rest of the class going wide-eyed and following suit. Lancer just puts his head in his hands and sighs very audibly while shaking his head. Why could nothing go right? Sighing again as the class erupts into noise.

“Mines all weird too!”.

“Same here!”.

“Okay there is no way Fenturd messed up everyone’s work”.

“And I actually tried on mine! It was about the merits of Phantom getting armour!”.

“Oh damn do we just get auto hundreds now? Please please please say yes”.

“Oh damn, Phantom would actually look awesome in armour”.

“I know right”.

“Can we just skip class entirely now?”.

“Oh my Zone a ghost messed with or work”.

“Holy Shit”.

“Wait! Wait! Wait! You don’t think Phantom did do you?”.

“Why the heck would he do that? How would he even know??????”.

“Oh I hope Phantom was inside my computer. That would be so hot”.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe someone told him or he overheard shit. He’s a ghost, he can be invisible. Heck, he could be here, right now, invisible”.

“Invisible and laughing at us”.

“No! No! Hold up! What if he doesn’t want us writing about him or maybe someone wrote some sus shit and he just nerfed us all for good measure”.

“That would mean Phantom totally read my stuff, aw Hell yeah man. That was some boss shit”,

Lancer sighs and stands up, “alright that’s enough”, sighing again because why did this have to happen to him, “and I apologies for blaming you earlier, Daniel”.

Samantha snaps, “oh no, I still blame him”, and continues glaring at the teen. Lancer suspects Samantha would continue blaming the boy even if it was firmly proven he wasn’t at fault.

Addressing the class again, “here’s what we’re going to do, you’re going to read off what of your projects you actually can and allude to the rest. Please reframe from repeating what you know was there beforehand as I’d rather not have whatever ghost responsible -Phantom or otherwise- come here pissed off”, glaring at few students who look slightly encouraged rather than discouraged by that prospect, “anyone who does will receive automatic zeroes”, ah and the encouraged looks have deflated. Good. Gesturing at Star, “you’re already up here, so do continue”. Better to not bring the clearly infuriated Samantha back to the front until she’s had some time to calm down.

Star nods and clears her throat, thankfully everyone quiets down. “O-okay, well, um”, gesturing at the screen, “I did my piece on Phantom’s sense of fashion and the cover image was one with him dressed in one of the Spook Sense stores meme shirts....”.

-

Lancer shakes away the memory, he honestly slightly regrets giving this project. But regardless right now is Daniel’s turn and Lancer is honestly slightly fearful of what his file is going to look like. Thankfully all their files were saved to his computer before the [REDACTED] debacle, so no one could go back in and edit theirs to add [REDACTED]’s for an easy grade. Lancer’s still not exactly sure how he’s supposed to mark assignments that were anywhere from one-fifth to one-third [REDACTED]. That word will be burned into his head after this grading period.

Lancer moves to find the boys file, but stares when clicking it crashes the computer. Not once. Not twice. But thrice. The fourth time rebooting the computer he inspects the file and is a bit dumbfounded, “Daniel, your entire file’s corrupted. The file type has even been changed to redacted, which I’m fairly sure, isn’t actually any possible file designation”. Everyone’s silent for a bit before bursting out into laughter.

“Just what the Zone did you write, Danny!”.

“Oh we so have to know what this is now”.

“Danny has the forbidden knowledge! We haft found him! The keeper of things forbidden and Ghostly! Haza!”.

“Ha! It was probably so lame that Phantom wanted to save him the embarrassment”.

Lancer sighs, but Daniel gestures Tucker up, “hey Tuck, feel like trying to fix the file”. Tucker chuckles and walks up, though apparently glaring at the boy. Based on Daniel’s smirk he finds this quite amusing.

Tucker does manage to make the file viewable at least. Lancer nods and leans back in his seat, “thank you, Mr. Foley”, while the file loads on screen.

Tucker sits back down with a head shake while Daniel stands at the front and gestures to the screen, “aight, as you can see from my not redacted title-”, that earns a couple laughs, “I did mine on Phantom’s portfolio of crime. Every single time our dear Phantom broke ghost law. Including such wonderful things as, that time he caused not one, not two, not even three, but five, prison breaks in one day. Or that time he invalidated a Observant spectator duel by bringing an inflatable sword”. Samantha slams a hand on her desk, “IT IS YOUR FAULT YOU DICK!”.

Lancer has some serious questions as Daniel clicks for the next page, the entire class going dead silent as a screen comprising of almost nothing but the word [REDACTED] shows. Lancer sighs very audibly. Eventually the class starts up again.

“Fenton... actually has forbidden knowledge”.

“If it wasn’t for the teacher computer saved thing I’d think he was fucking with us”.

“I mean... he is a Fenton, right?”.

“Okay the fact that this entire presentation is on ghost crimes is concerning alone. But they’re forbidden ghost crimes at that”.

“Shit I wanted the tea. Damnit”.

“Better question, how does Danny know?”.

Daniel clicking the button to go forward is very audible. And, Chicken Soup For The Soul, every single page is [REDACTED] to the point of being completely and utterly unintelligible. There are occasional lines pointing out how Phantom apparently ate confetti at a ghosts third wedding (which is apparently illegal for some reason) or that time he beat someone up with a violin that had a pie inside it (Lancer can see this one, Lancer himself has smacked a ghost with stranger).  Literally the only photo that isn’t blurred beyond recognition is one of Phantom in a prison uniform (Paulina was very vocal about liking men in uniform here). Lancer is absolutely positive the end of his conclusion ‘[REDACTED] are a bunch of [REDACTED]’ is an insult.

Samantha chucks a boot at his smirking face, “YOU IDIOT. Of course they were going to block you from talking about them. Ancients, I can’t believe you”. Tucker’s busy laughing into his hand.

“Oh my Zone, they know too”.

“They’re really earning that weirdo trio title, huh”.

Daniel snickers as he sits back down, “they broke into my room and wrecked that epic puzzle I was working on. They shoulda seen this shit coming. Literally”. Tucker snorts, “they probably did but couldn’t do anything else about it. They can’t stop you and your endless bullshit”.

“Damn fucking straight”.

Lancer isn’t going to claim to know what exactly they’re talking about but apparently Daniel effectively orchestrated this entire fiasco just to annoy some ghost. Lancer is honestly more impressed than disturbed. A for effort but an A- for making everyone's work nigh unusable.

End.

Prompt: For the last project of their senior year in high school, Mr. Lancer is letting his class do presentations on literally whatever topic they want. He is very, /very/ sure that this is going to go poorly, but that's a problem for later...

[pies-writes-and-more]

Hungover Love

word count: 2,688

pairing: UniversityStudent!Akaashi Keiji x Fem!Reader

warnings: characters getting drunk and hungover - all assumed to be of legal age

a/n: I don’t know where this came from but I started writing it so here it is haha. Got the idea from @moanlightlust‘s list (can find it here!) so thank you! I’ll bold the prompt down below (I kinda changed it for the sake of the story but still got the idea from their prompt list :)) Thank you to @satan-ruler-of-hells​ and @thisnoodlewritesao3​ for reading over this for me! Love you both :)

haikyuu masterlist

“Akaashi?” You repeated the name for the second time as you strained your ears to hear something besides bar music and Bokuto’s loud voice in the background.

“Hm?” The small grunt made you smile, knowing he was probably slumped over on a chair, holding his face in one hand and leaning on a table in front of him, with his other hand pressing his phone a little too hard on his ear.

You let out a small laugh, pausing the show you had on your TV so you could hear him better, “Akaashi, you called me. Did you need something?”

There was another grunt on the other end of the line, and you chuckled as you heard Konoha teasing Bokuto about something in the distance, “What is it, Akaashi?” You inquired some more, listening to him hum quietly to the song playing.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” he mumbled and you just shook your head with a smile. God he must’ve had far too many drinks to be this out of it. “I fucking love Y/N Y/L/N. It almost feels like she can hear me right now,” he was saying and you just laughed. “Like I can... I can hear her laughing.”

“Akaashi, you idiot,” your face felt hot but you tried to ignore it. He was drunk. Very clearly drunk. He didn’t mean anything by it - the last time he was drunk, he told you he was going to leave his college volleyball team and join some new sport because Bokuto was getting on his nerves. 

It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t. It didn’t matter that those were the words you had been waiting to hear from him. It didn’t matter that you’d spent the last two years pining after him. He was drunk.

“Didya know... the other day.... Y/N smiled at me cause I said something funny- what did I say... I can’t remember what I said but I said something funny and she smiled and I just.. God it’s that smile ya know?” Akaashi’s voice seemed so much lighter than it did usually. You could tell that he was smiling and just imagining that goofy drunk smile on his face made your heart skip a beat or two.

“That’s nice,” you tried to keep things casual, avoid getting your hopes up too much. You didn’t want to ruin what you had with him - the nice fun friendship that was definitely just a friendship.

“Y/N?” Akaashi suddenly seemed a lot more present, as if just realizing you were on the line. 

“Yea?”

“Y/N!” The smile on his face was probably a lot bigger from the sounds of it, a chuckle slipping from his lips, “I love you, Y/N! I’ve loved you ever since I met you when you picked up my runaway ball for me back in high school. You were so pretty then and you’re super pretty now. Like you get prettier every day I see you-” his speech was quick and slurred, you could almost feel him getting drunker by the second.

“Akaashi-”

“Bokuto keeps telling me that I need to tell you but I dunno if I can because I’m pretty sure you like that dude that lives across from you and-”

“Akaashi-”

“But I guess I wouldn’t know until I told you right? So I’m telling you because I like you. I really like you. I wanted to bring you to that new ice cream place down the road from your place but you always seemed so busy and I don’t want to bug you, plus volleyball takes up so much time, and then there’s school, and I don’t even know how to balance volleyball, school, and a girlfriend-”

“Akaashi!” Your voice was louder this time, biting down on your inner cheek as his name left your lips. You needed him to stop - it had to stop. Your heart was fluttering too much and you couldn’t even tell how much of this was true. You wanted to tell yourself that alcohol could bring out people’s true feelings, but it also made you do dumb shit. And wouldn’t confessing to someone you didn’t actually like be considered dumb shit?

“Ya that’s me,” Akaashi mumbled, clearly a lot more tired than he seemed five seconds ago.

You tried not to laugh, tried to swallow your fears and your feelings, your heart feeling like it was beating a thousand times a minute. “I need you to go sober up, get some rest and drink lots of water okay?”

“But-”

“No but’s! You obviously drank way too much and honestly, I’ve never heard you talk like this before and I can’t even tell if it’s you anymore,” you acted like you were scolding him, putting up that wall again like you had so many other times before. He couldn’t really like you, could he? There was no way.

“Y/N Y/L/N, I fucking love you!” Akaashi yelled into the phone, making you cringe a bit at the volume.

Your chest was tightening, you couldn’t tell if it was fear or hope but whatever it was, it was scaring the shit out of you, “Shut the hell up! If you love me so much tell me when you’re sober, dammit!” You yelled back, immediately hanging up the phone. Your eyes widened as you watched the call screen disappear, your mouth suddenly feeling very dry.

The next few hours were radio silent from both Bokuto and Akaashi. You refused to text either of them in fear that you might accidentally say more than you wanted to.

It’s fine, he was really drunk from the sounds of it so he probably won’t even remember it right? I mean, the last time he got super drunk, he didn’t remember challenging the bartender to a pushup fight so... so he won’t remember.... right?

You paced in your room for a bit, glancing at your phone every five seconds to see if there was any sort of notification from either of your friends. But nothing. 

You barely slept a wink that night, tossing and turning while facing dreams of Akaashi laughing in your face the next time you saw him.

You thought I meant that? It was just a joke, Y/N.

I only see you as a friend, sorry.

Don’t you think you’re reading into our friendship a little too much? That’s all there is. Friendship. 

The idea of Akaashi awkwardly laughing in your face, giving you that half smile while dismissing your feelings haunted you for hours. By the time the sun came up, you gave up on the idea of sleeping and threw your blanket off of you. It was time to figure out how to survive your day without thinking about Akaashi Keiji at all. 

It wasn’t easy. Everything reminded you of him. Half of your Netflix was shows you were watching with him, or movies you’d already seen with him next to you. Your homework wasn’t any help either (though you definitely needed to get it done). Akaashi would normally come over and study with you, his adorable glasses making him look like some young professor, twirling his pencil around in his fingers while nodding along to some song stuck in his head. You couldn’t get used to studying on your own.

Radio silence finally broke when you texted Bokuto, asking if they all made it home safe last night and he responded with a very badly spelled text message saying, “himw safe so tirwd need adcil heaf hurtinh” (aka. home safe so tired need advil head hurting) 

Your lips curled into a small smile - at least Bokuto was alive. And the fact that he wasn’t all up in your face about Akaashi meant that the setter probably hadn’t said anything last night, or at least, it meant that Bokuto was too busy tending to a hangover to think about it.

A knock on your door made you jump, watching it for a moment before slowly approaching.

“Oi, open up, I know you’re in there.”

You calculated the odds and realistically there were only 3 reasons why Akaashi would be at your door right now, while he was still probably very hungover.

A. He was tired of listening to Bokuto complain about being hungover while also hungover and wanted you to help take care of him.

B. He wasn’t actually hungover and wanted to hang out.

C. He remembered your phone call from last night and wanted to confront you about it.

...

There was no way it was B or C so... it had to be A right?

You opened the door with a smile on your face, trying to pretend like this was the first time you spoke to him since you saw him earlier yesterday.

“Hey, what’re you doing here?” You asked, welcoming him in and watching his movements as he shuffled inside. He was wearing his sunglasses and wincing a little so... it definitely wasn’t B. He was definitely still hungover.

“Good morning to you too,” Akaashi chuckled slightly, groaning as he made his way over to your couch and flopped onto it. “God, my head is killing me,” he grumbled.

You felt almost a bit of relief - he wasn’t bringing it up so... it must mean that C wasn’t an option right? “I’ll make you some tea. Want something to eat?”

He made a noise that you assumed was a yes, grabbing some ramen packages that you liked to have whenever you were hungover.

“How’re the boys?” You asked as soon as the tea was finished, handing it to him as he sat up with a huff.

“Fine... I told them I didn’t want to get drunk,” he rolled his eyes. “But Bokuto kept pouring shots and being a little bitch when I didn’t want to have them... something about how he didn’t want to lose his best friend or something.”

You laughed, shaking your head slowly as you moved back to your little kitchen, “You’re always so busy studying. Bokuto probably just misses having you around.”

“We live together.”

“Ya well you’re always either on campus or here with me so I can see why he’d miss you,” you smirked, humming softly to yourself as you let the noodles cook. Things were okay. Things were normal. Things were going to be fine - all your worries were slipping away-

“So are we not going to talk about it?” 

Akaashi’s voice made you jump, turning around to find him standing right behind you and slowly sipping on the tea.

“Fuck, Akaashi, don’t do that,” you glared at him, hitting his arm, “Could’ve made me burn myself.” 

“Sorry,” he gave you a small smile, leaning against the nearby counter. “But we are going to talk about it, aren’t we?”

The ramen so clearly needed stirring and stirring was a full focus kind of job and this was obviously why you were looking into the pot and not looking at Akaashi, even though you could feel his eyes watching you, “Talk about what? Bokuto missing you?”

Akaashi chuckled and lifted his finger to under your chin, tilting your face to look at him, “I drank a lot. But I don’t think any amount of alcohol could make me forget how embarrassing I was.”

“Embarrassing?”

He watched your eyes for a moment before pulling his hand away from you and looking down at his tea, his smile slowly stiffening, “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I don’t want to make you more uncomfortable. I just thought I should apologize and let you know that you don’t have to reject me or anything. I like being friends with you and that’s enough for me, even if there’s a part of me that wants more.”

You almost dropped your spoon on the floor, staring at him with wide eyes, “S-Sorry what? Apologize? For... for what?”

“For confessing to you while drunk,” Akaashi’s smile was turning more sad now, taking a slow sip from his tea. “I’d been considering telling you how I feel for a while now and I guess I should’ve stopped myself from drinking sooner to save you the embarrassment.”

“Embarrassment? Akaashi, don’t be an idiot,” you ignored the soup still dripping from the spoon and whacked his arm with it.

“Hey!”

“You’re telling me you were drunk enough to confess to me and to remember what you said but not remember what I said at the end?” You huffed, hands on your hips now. 

Akaashi’s eyes lifted to the ceiling in thought, his lips pursing slowly like he did when he was concentrating on getting an answer right on his homework, “I know you seemed mad,” he finally responded, shrugging a bit. “I figured it was cause I put you on the spot like that.”

“No you absolute meathead, it’s because after months and months of pining after you, weeks of Bokuto almost spilling my secret on multiple different occasions to you, him almost screaming to you once about how much I love you, you end up telling me you love me over a drunk phone call and I can’t tell if you’re being serious or just a drunk dummy!” You scold him, hitting his arm again with your hand and shaking your head. God, for a boy with as high of an average as he had, how is it possible that there were no brain cells running around in that head of his?

Akaashi smirked a little, watching your eyes as you ranted, a playful smile on his lips, “So... you love me huh?”

“You better get out of my sight before I dump this ramen on your head,” you glare at him, trying your best not to smile because his smile was just so contagious but ugh that evil little smirk of his-

His lips were suddenly on your cheek, pressing a soft kiss to your skin and letting you feel the smirk still toying on his expression, “Drunk or not. I do love you, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Y-Yeah yeah whatever,” you avoid his eyes some more, your whole face feeling hot and your cheek tingling where he had kissed you. “Go sit, it’s almost done.”

“Not until you say it back,” he teased, hugging you from behind and peppering your cheeks with some more kisses. “You said you love me, you can’t take it back now. Say it again.”

“Why?” you laughed, trying to pull away from his tight hug.

“Because it’s the best news I’ve ever gotten and I want to hear you say it again and again and again,” he insisted, turning you around to face him and smiling down at you. “Pretty please?”

You sighed with a smile on your face because as annoying as he could be, you really did mean it when you tell him, “I love you too, Akaashi.”

Alone time with Akaashi lasted long enough for him to properly ask you to go on a date with him to that ice cream shop, and was then interrupted by Bokuto showing up at your door and inviting himself in with a grin.

Apparently, the cure to Bokuto’s hangover was just knowing his two best friends had finally confessed to each other.

“God, I thought he’d never get drunk enough,” Bokuto grinned proudly to himself after you had happily explained the details to him. “I thought I’d have to just keep ordering him drinks.”

“What?” Akaashi glared at him, putting the pieces together.

Bokuto just smirked mischievously, “You can’t get mad cause it worked. I figured it would take a miracle to get you two to confess. And getting you drunk is basically a miracle.”

The fact that you were laughing made Akaashi want to kill Bokuto a little less, and even though he glared some more at his best friend, he would secretly thank him later for helping him get the courage to get the girl of his dreams. As much as Bokuto could get on his nerves sometimes, it really would be thanks to him that Akaashi got to take you out on that cute date and tell you just how much he loves you every day.

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[wandering-travesty]

Off To The Races

 Zeke’s life wasn’t supposed to be like this. His father would have a spontaneous brain aneurism if he saw the daily goings on of the younger Yeager’s household on his days off. Horrid amounts of smoking outside, snow or shine, day-drinking without a second thought, and lonely, not by choice. He had honest-to-god tried to live the life his father wanted for him. He married a woman straight out of law school and knocked her up a few months after. They raised that kid for a year then repeated the process. They lived, laughed, and loved for a few years, then, as a surprise to no one, the divorce came along. His wife had run off with a lump sum of money and started a new life out of state. He got left with two kids, substance abuse issues, and a law firm to run. He was stressed, depressed, and by the holiest powers above, was he horny. 

 Ignoring the horniness for a moment, everything changed when you came around. Every inch of his world brightened, almost like a light at the end of a tunnel. You gave him some form of hope, and reminded him that life wasn’t all doom and gloom. You were still in college, looking for some extra funds to help pay your tuition; a lawyer that doubled as a father of two was the perfect target. You had shown up in your prettiest outfit, almost as if you were showing off for him. Being the kind of man he was, Zeke couldn’t help but hire you. Some sweet, fetching little thing coming up to his decadent doorstep in a tiny little tennis skirt and begging to take care of his kids? That was something he could never turn away. 

 So, you became the official caretaker of Zeke’s little angels. You truly adored looking after them while their, admittedly handsome, father slaved away at his big, important law firm. You rang the doorbell right as the kids were waking up, Zeke greeting you at the door already dressed in one of his repulsively expensive suits. You talked over scones and coffee and made the kids just about anything they wanted. He would leave, and you would get the kids dressed and out the door with ample time to catch the bus. You’d clean the house, make yourself some lunch, play with the family dog. The golden retriever was just another cliche. But you still loved the mutt, especially since every family member loved him, too. You could tell because Zeke had named him after some long-dead baseball player, meaning he would be enamoured with the thing no matter what.  

 It was fun, picking up on little details about Zeke, or Mr. Yeager, as you called him. He loved baseball and would talk about it for hours on end if you let him, and he hated strawberry icecream for some unexplained reason. He was the face of success for his entire life, from being a star pitcher on his little league team back home to captain of the debate team in high school; he had never really failed at anything or gotten robbed of what he wanted. He was a winner in everything he had ever tried. He had mentioned how high-strung his parents were, and how they’d gone through a divorce of their own when he was young. He and his step-brother never got along that well, and had actually turned out to be very different people. His family life was anything but smooth, and he feared his kids would look back on their childhood in the same light. You guessed that’s why tonight was happening. 

 “Alright, I’m entrusting my children, dog, house, and painfully expensive belongings to you for the night.” He was dressed to the nines, hell, the tens. He wore an umber sport coat, mustard turtleneck sweater, a thick black belt, grey slacks, chestnut oxfords, and the most expensive golden watch you had ever seen. His flaxen hair shined perfectly in the low light of the entranceway; it was official: you wanted to fuck him. Rather, you wanted him to fuck you. You wanted him to fuck you stupid and make you squirt all over that pretty watch, and his even prettier face. 

 “I’ve got it covered, Mr. Yeager.” His youngest son wrapped his arms around your legs as the dog rubbed his head into your palm. “Knock ‘er dead!” You gave him your cheesiest smile and thumbs up. He chuckled at you as his eldest son grabbed your free hand. 

 “You’ve got this, Dad!” He cheered, starting to drag you to the living room. 

 “Thank you, Atticus. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He gave a weak smile, turning to leave through the large oak door. It was awful, how badly he wanted to stay there with you and the kids. He wanted to chase Atticus down the hall as the rest of you ran after him, laughing all the way. He wanted to put on some old, boring movie only he wanted to watch and feel your breath on his neck as you fell asleep just after the kids and dog sitting on the floor below you. He wanted to feel your warmth in his bed. He wanted to see what you looked like backed up against a wall. Heaving after an especially passionate kiss. With your legs over your head, screaming his name. The sweat dripping down your face as you came undone beneath him. The little whimpers you’d make as he pulled out of you and cradled you in his arms. He wanted you, not this random woman off of some shitty dating site. He didn’t really want the booze, or the men, or the women, or the money, or the white picket fence, or his father’s approval; he just wanted - no - he needed you. Your game of cat and mouse, seeing which playful “sweetheart” or coy little “Mr. Yeager” would be the one to tip you over the edge of more than friends.  

 “Zeke? That’s you, right?” The tall blonde woman in a sleek black suit walked towards him with an outstretched hand. She could’ve easily been a full foot taller than him. Interesting.

 “Yes. Yelena, correct?” But she wasn’t you. He just wanted to get this night of false wining and dining over with so he could come home to you. You in his big, expensive house. Better yet, his big, expensive bed.

 - 

 You sat and watched the clock after the kids went to bed. It ticked and tocked, back and forth, over and over. It had been about an hour since you’d put them down for the night. You couldn’t wait for Zeke to get home for much longer. Butterflies buzzed through your stomach when you heard the doorbell ring.

 “Mr. Yeager?” You opened the door to the sight of your employer with his shirt halfway unbuttoned, glasses falling off his face, and hair an absolute bird’s nest. 

 “Hey, beautiful.” He purred, slumping onto your shoulder, trying and failing to be smooth. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in my house, huh?” He looked up at you over the rim of his glasses. The way his eyes glimmered a dark shade of teal lit your entire body on fire. Feeling his full weight on top of you only made it spread farther.

 “Babysitting your kids, for starters.” You maneuvered your bodies to have his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you dragged him back into the house. “Apparently I’ll be babysitting you, too.” You mumbled, just then realizing exactly how muscular he was. You sat him down on the leather couch and started to walk to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. You didn’t have much experience with alcohol, but you believed water helped with it somehow.

 “Damn. Loving the view from back here, gorgeous.” He leaned forwards with his elbows on his knees, licking his chapped lips. You jumped at the sudden compliment. You couldn’t remember him being so…dirty before. You walked a little faster than you already were, wanting to get away from him before you made a stupid decision. You poured a tall glass of water, walking back to the couch where Zeke was now lounging, legs spread far enough to leave barely anything to the imagination.  

 “Hey there, doll. Got somethin’ for me?” He giggled, lowering his head from where he had been resting it. His eyes were something to behold, and the deep rooted confidence and downright cockiness behind them only served to make you shiver. You shuffled closer, a bit skittish at the sight of the beast before you. 

 “It’s just water.” You sat down on the table in front of him. “It’s supposed to help with your metabolism, I think.” Your voice was a higher pitch than usual, feeling an odd pressure in your throat every time you spoke.

 “What a smart little thing you are.” He praised. It felt genuine, and you started to feel hotter. You handed him the glass, trying your best to avoid eye contact. He took the glass, and almost as if he had sensed your intentions, took your chin between his fingers and forced you to look into his deep, ocean eyes. He leaned back a bit, giving you a better view of his exposed chest. There was a light layer of golden hair overtop of his expansive chest, and it seemed to trail down the rest of his body. You wanted to find out if that was true. Still holding eye contact with you, he tipped the glass and send the water spilling down his shirt. You knew that wasn’t just drunken clumsiness, but a calculated measure to get in your pants.

 “Whoops.” He said, eyes cold and emotionless as his words. “You better clean that up, sweetheart. We both know I can’t take care of myself in this state.” You moved closer to him, hands unsure of where they were going. You were shaking a bit, and you didn't have a towel on you. You decided the best course of action was to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way. You felt down his chest, gently tugging on his nipples. He let out a soft groan as you continued to feel him up. 

 “You’re gettin’ a little handsy there, baby. You want something from me?” He pet your hair as you moved further down on his chest. You kissed and gave kitten licks, appreciating every inch and curve of his muscular form. You couldn’t get enough of him, try as you might.

 “I fuckin’ knew it.” He pulled you by your hair to force you to look at him.

 “Filthy little harlot.” He squeezed you cheeks, forcing your mouth open. You looked confused until you felt a glob of spit hit your tongue. You swallowed like it was second nature. 

 “You’re just here for my dick, huh?” You continued to kiss and lick down his abdomen, savoring every ounce of him you could; the smell of cinnamon, menthol, and saltwater hit your nose, intoxicating you further and further the more you breathed him in. “I bet it’s all you think about. Especially when those fingers rub that pretty little cunt until you cum all over yourself.” You let out a whine, signifying exactly how right he was.

 “Yeah.” You dragged your tongue up his six-pack, savoring the slightly salty taste. “Think about you every night.” You licked a stripe down the same line you had just gone up. “Only way I can get to sleep.” He smiled the warmest smile you had ever seen him produce. Such a sweet little thing for him, getting off to thoughts of him railing you silly in order to have a good night’s rest. Your submissive, horny mind was so focused on him you couldn’t get to bed without him. You were perfection in human form. Truly a goddess sent from above. He would worship you in the most degrading way possible.

 “I knew you were dirty, I just needed to force you to show me.” He continued to pet your hair like you were some kind of beloved family pet. You felt so small under his touch; so fragile, as if one touch could blow you away forever. You loved the feeling more than life itself. You felt like you could never live without it again. Touching yourself while thinking about him wouldn’t do the trick; not after you had felt the real thing.

 “That’s it, honey, kiss me like you mean it.” He teased, knowing exactly what was running through your head. Sure, he was no master of seduction, but he had bedded plenty before, and he knew exactly how talented he was. He had learned from years of experience; years you hadn’t yet lived. You would learn it all from him. Those little college boys he could smell on you every so often wouldn’t cut it anymore. He was meant for you, and you for him. He knew he already had you trapped, but playing with you was so fun. Poking and prodding and mocking you all while you worshiped him like he had hung the moon in the sky.

 “You love this body, don’t you, slut?” He pulled your hair suddenly, earning a yelp that went straight to his aching cock. “You know, I’ve only been keeping in shape for you. I knew from the moment you saw me that was the main appeal, and lord knows I’d go through hell to keep you around.” That was true. He knew others would settle for mediocrity, but a flawless little angel like you deserved better than mediocre. You needed someone to match your talent, beauty, and wit. He didn’t believe he equaled you in anything but maybe wits, but still, he was good for you. At least, you seemed to think so, considering you were giving tiny kitten licks to the tip of his recently freed dick. The tip was red, swollen, and leaking a sinful amount of precum. You sucked it all up, taking the engorged head between your plush lips. You felt like heaven, but the ache in your pussy felt like hell. You slowly began to go the full length down his cock. Zeke was right: you had messed around with college boys before, but none were as big as him. Your gag reflex wasn’t prepared, causing you to choke and sputter on it. Zeke grinned slyly.

 “Say my name, sweetie.” He wanted to treat you right, but it was so enjoyable to indulge his sadistic side.

 “Mr. Yeager.” You choked out. You knew how much he enjoyed that title; the feeling of authority it brought him made him hard as a rock every time. He groaned in pleasure, sending shivers down your spine. That knocked him off his rhythm for a moment, but he was right back on you the minute he regained some sense of self.

 “The kids are right upstairs, peacefully sleeping, while you choke on my dick like a dumb little slut.” The thought made you feel so dirty. You shifted on the ground, squeezing your thighs together and trying to get some friction. “And you do it so well, baby. I couldn’t ask for better.” He sighed.

 “That’s it, pretty girl, don’t hurt yourself down there.” He slowly pulled you off his cock by your hair. He didn’t want to admit it, and really didn’t show any signs, but you had him on the verge of cumming down your throat. But he didn’t want his precious seed there. Hell no! He wanted you stuffed to the brim and properly bred.

 “I’ve wanted you for so goddamn long, you don’t even know.” The look on tour face was something beyond pleasure or pain. It was a mix of both with a side of...fear? “What, scared of taking something this big, doll?” You shook your head.

 “Don’t worry, daddy’ll get you nice and wet for him.” He slowly came to hover over you, lifting you up and sitting you down on the couch. He spread your legs, undoing the button of your shorts with his long, thick fingers, bringing his mouth to your zipper and pulling it down with his teeth. He pulled them down your legs, bringing his face to your core. You felt hot on his mouth and nose. He licked a wet stripe up your clothed core,

 “God, you taste like honey, sweetie. I’m so fuckin’ lucky.” He pulled your panties to the side, relishing in the sight of your puffy pussy. You were beautiful in the murky yellow light of the room. You folds shimmered with slick and he could see your cunt clench around nothing, so obviously desperate for his dick. That’s right, his dick. Only his. From now on.

 He dove into you, savoring your tangy flavor. Pussy was a taste all its own, each having new, intense, rich tastes he could barely describe. To be perfectly honest, Zeke was a sucker for a wet little cunt in his mouth, and you were the perfect subject. Every suck to your clit, every kiss and lick to your folds, every darting flick of his tongue into your aching little hole; it had you moaning and whimpering like a ditzy little slut. Your mind was hazy with ecstasy.

 “Don’t get too loud now, dollface. Don’t wanna wake the kids now, do you?” His words brought you back to Earth, forcing you to remember you were being eaten out by a father of two. It felt so filthy to know you had been bringing up his kids, acting as a faux wife, and now you were being treated like one, eaten out of your mind and promised a thorough breeding.

 “Not that I don’t believe you would get off on being watched. I bet you love that idea, huh?” You jolted at the words and the sensation of another kiss to your cunt. “It might sound a little sick, but I could invite my brother over, see if he has as good a taste as mine.” He’d be willing to invite Eren over for a test run of…you? You knew they didn’t get along, so it was surprising, but that only turned you on even more. Imaging them fighting over you like hungry wolves on the hunt. They’d ravish you without even thinking. If this was Zeke, held back, on his own, you could only yelp and whimper at what kind of monsters the two of them would be together.

 “Nah, that little shit doesn’t deserve you.” He smirked into your sopping wet core. Eren never appreciated the finer things in life, still to young to understand the joys of pussy eating. No, he was more for the fuck and chuck kind of lifestyle. You deserved better aftercare than a point towards the door. “Some of the guys at my firm, however. Bet they’d turn you out real nice. They’re all just about as big and pent up as me. We could all show you a real good time." That would be about…three, four, even five of him? All fucking you at once with the same vigor and deep seated intensity. You head buzzed at the thought. "You’d like that, wouldn’t you, whore?” You couldn’t keep up with him in this state. You were completely fucked out without even being fucked at all. Before you knew it, you were cumming all over his gorgeous face and beard. He was taken slightly aback, but he licked it all up in five seconds flat. He was a professional.

 “Answer me, doll.” He delivered a harsh slap to your thigh. He enjoyed the ripple it gave and the red mark his hand had left.

 “Yes, Mr. Yeager.” You stuttered out, barely above a whisper. Torturing you would be fun, but not tonight. No, he needed to be thorough with your pleasure and ensure you would never leave his side again. He gave a few light slaps to your slippery pussy, making your thighs shake and mouth move without making a sound.

 “That’s what I fuckin’ thought.” He slowly stood up, giving you a perfect view of the shining god before you. His body was something sculpted by the old masters; a true work of art. Before you could fully appreciate the image of perfection in front of you, he bent down just a bit, pushing your thigs back as far as they could go, squishing your tits under them. He enjoyed the way your pudgier parts stuck out, giving him more parts of you to pinch and suck on as he fucked into you. His was no doubt the biggest cock you’d ever taken, and it wasn’t easy to have inside of you at first. Your walls clamped down on him so tight it was almost painful. But as he slowly pushed in and out, pleasure began to overtake the pain and you started to loosen up just a bit.

 “Just relax, sweetie. Daddy’s got you.” Of course he had a daddy kink. It made perfect sense, as did yours. Hearing him say that in that truly comforting tone made your head spin with pleasure.

"God, you are so fucking tight." He continued to fuck into you at a savage pace, not seeming to care if you screamed or cry, rather relishing in the fact that you were. You were so young and tight and sensitive, it drove him mad. He was sure he could never go a day without your pussy again.

"You fit me like a vice, sweetheart. You trying to milk me dry? Huh?" Your mouth was hanging open, drool spilling out. It gave him ample opportunity to spit in your mouth once again.

"Swallow it you filthy slut." He lightly tapped your face.

"This is exactly how I wanted you." You could barely hear him, blanking out at the intensity of his continuous pounding of your poor little cunt. "Been thinking about this for months."

"Might just knock you up, sweetie. You already take care of my brats so well, what's one more?" You squealed at the thought. He wanted you to have his babies. He wanted you to be his new, permanent play thing to fuck and fill up every night.

"Yeah. I wan' your babies." You slurred your words, inebriated by the feeling of his cock filling your tight little cunt. He gazed down at your fucked out form, finding a sick sense of pleasure in how far gone you were all thanks to him. You moaned far too loud for someone in a house full of kids. You couldn't hold back, he just felt too damn good.

"You gonna cum, little girl?" He had almost a mocking tone when he asked that. You nodded your head, squeezing your eyes shut. He kept up the pace, abusing your g-spot, not letting up for even a second. He set out to make you feel incredible; like the perfect little plaything he knew you to be, and he wasn’t going to let his slightly aged stamina get in the way.

"That's it, you look so pretty, baby. What a good little slut." He looked down at you with heated intensity. "My little slut." He continued his brutal pace almost as if you had never cum at all.

"Oh, 'd you think I'd quit just 'cause you finished? No fuckin' way." You squealed as he continued to thrust inside you, still drunk on the idea of being full of his cum. You wanted him more than you had wanted anything in your life.

"'M gonna make you squirt all over me. Ruin this nice, expensive couch." You were screaming his name at that point, unable to form a thought that wasn't Zeke and his perfect dick.

"Such a fuckin' cocktease all these months. This is what you get for it. Tummy full of my cum." He slowed his pace as he looked into your eyes with the intensity of a man drunk on desire.

"All those times you flipped your skirt up so I could see your cute little panties." He thrusted into you harder than he had before. "All those times you called me Mr. Yeager in that innocent tone that drove me up the wall." He thrusted harder than you had ever thought possible. You felt him hit your cervix. "Every time you acted like you didn't know what you were doing. Like you didn't know what I wanted." He continued to pound into you. You felt so full, so good.

"You're getting tighter, baby. You gonna squirt while daddy fills you up, huh?" His pace was brutal and you were seeing stars.

"That's it, pretty baby, cum all over me. Let me fill you up." He humped into you a few final times before shooting his load into your cunt. You screamed at the feeling of your cum squirting out of you as his cum squirted into you. You were so dizzy and so full. You were happy. You were safe and taken care of and filled to the brim by the man you loved most.

 “Hey.” You saw Zeke’s stunningly handsome face look down at you. His cheeks were flushed, forehead sweaty, sculpted chest heaving. But his eyes were transfixed on you with a look so filled with love and passion it made you feel like you were floating. “How you holding up, princess?” That was a new name…not that you minded. “Didn’t go too rough did I?” He panted in between his gentle words, the main drawback of giving it your all.

 “Actually.” You huffed a bit, just then realizing how difficult it was to talk, or move, or breathe. “Think you coulda’ gone harder.” He chuckled, the same look of complete infatuation lingering in his oceanic eyes.

 “Yeah?”

 “Yeah.”

 “You sure?”

 “I’m tougher than you’d think, old man.” He laughed at you, appreciating how you could still be the sweetest little thing he’d ever met after being pounded half to death.

 “Alright, I’m not even thirty, you little minx.”

 “Calling me a minx isn’t helping your case, Zeke.” His eyes lit up with recognition.

 “First time you’ve called me that, angel.” He smiled like an idiot in love, because he was one.

 “Maybe it’ll be the last, if you keep acting like such an animal around me.” You slapped his shoulder with as much strength as you could muster, which was basically none.

 “Well, if you don’t like the rough treatment, how about I treat you like the perfect angel you are? Treat you to a nice, warm shower and a cuddle session with yours truly. How about that?” He gently rubbed your cheek, taking in how wonderful your afterglow was.

 “Sounds nice.”

 “Alright, let’s go, angel.”

 “Okay, Mr. Yeager.” You giggled at how quickly his face darkened and lips tightened into a frown.

 “Ever the tease, you are.” He carried you to his shower bridal style, no doubt a sign of things to come.

[oinkz]

bound to you

— you share an umbrella with your ex, oikawa. (gn!reader)

— angst, harassment (not by oikawa or the reader), light fluff, 3.5k words, very experimental so i apologize if it’s a bit.. messy

A dark cloud from outside the classroom window stretches across the canvas of the sky, its presence mighty and foreboding. Any minute now, it could start pouring, and that known fact is making it more and more difficult to focus on your calculus test as time lets on.

Just one more question. That’s it. And then, you can finally speed home, tend to your aching head, and take a nap, even. After the awfully long day you’ve had, you think you deserve it.

It was a cliche sort of day, not completely terrible, but it still rendered you exhausted nonetheless. You had woken late, skipped breakfast, ran into someone who was holding an iced coffee in their hand, and then strutted the school parameters in a very obviously stained uniform. (In the end, you’re just glad that the coffee wasn’t scorching hot.)

You had wanted to return home immediately after the last bell rang, but you needed to make up a test you were absent for last week. This brings you to now, in the midst of the very last question. 

With whatever wisdom and knowledge you can muster, you power through, tapping through your calculator and recalling that god-forsaken unit circle.

What even is a unit circle? You wouldn’t know, you’re merely doing enough to pass.

All you know is that one, this test wasn’t as bad as you thought it’d be (thank goodness for that) and two, you didn’t have enough time to check the weather this morning. Of course, the one day you failed to check is the day the weather gods decide to hurl you with a storm.

You had forgotten your umbrella. And once you complete this math problem, you’ll have to end your school day in the most cliche way possible - with the walking through pouring rain after a particularly hard day. You see it all the time in movies and books. 

‘Life imitates art,’ they say. And it sure does.

You don’t take long before you can input your final answer to the calculator and write it down on your paper. You even box the number in, making it nice and pretty for the teacher to read through your messy work. Maybe it’s to be generous for the sake of being generous - you know, to make your teacher’s job a little easier. Or maybe it’s to lend some good karma your way, in hopes of postponing the upcoming storm for another thirty minutes. You’re a little desperate, to say the least.

“Done?” 

Speak of the devil. Your head shoots upward to find said teacher.

You merely nod, handing her the paper.

Then, you’re on your own for the remaining minutes in school. You wish your teacher a good evening, and then wander through the empty halls to find your locker.

5pm is a quiet hour for Aoba Johsai. At this point, most students have made their way home - even the ones with extracurriculars. It was a little unsettling when you first stayed late, but you’ve grown used to it.

Long were the days when you would stay in the gym till late evening to help the boys in the volleyball club. They’re memories you wish you could look at bitterly, but you simply can’t. Because in the end of the day, you were happy. So happy.

But just because it was happy, doesn’t mean it was meant to be.

You take a sharp breath inwards, hoping to put an end to this - this reminiscing. You’ve moved on now, and you’re okay. Everything is just dandy without them. Without the supposed love of your life.

You’re taking books out of your locker when you hear it - the small roar of thunder and heavy pitter patter of pouring rain. For the tenth time today, a sigh falls from your mouth. Certainly, you’re not surprised, but it still sucks nonetheless.

You just want one good thing to happen today. One.

Now, you stand at the school entrance, a low frown weighing down the corners of your lips.

There’s no avoiding it - you have to get home somehow... but still. Mother Nature can be so, so cruel. Was it not enough that you walked around school with a dark coffee stain on your blouse?

You’re so busy moping that you don’t see the painfully familiar presence quietly making his way beside you, a subtle, yet adoring smile on his lips.

“What are you waiting for?” He wonders, staring at the sky alongside with you, eyes genuinely curious.

Your heart stops for what feels like minutes.

Because you know that voice. Everyone does, but especially you.

It’s the same voice that lulled you to sleep when insomnia was eating you away. The one you’ve heard sing far too many times thanks to those long gone karaoke nights. The one that whispered ‘I love you’s into your ear when you felt completely, and utterly alone.

That voice.

“It’s raining,” you reply bluntly, wanting to end this conversation as soon as possible. It’s not because you hate him per se - in fact, it’s quite the opposite. But you would rather not be anywhere close to him. 

“Where’s your umbrella?” He asks. It’s a simple question, but it’s so perceptive. Just like him. 

Of course he remembers how you always check the weather every morning. Of course he remembers how you had always - without fail - remembered to bring an umbrella. 

You hate the hope that swells up in your stomach. And you so badly want to hate him, too.

“I—“ You start, shakily. “It’s been a long day.” 

He hums. Whether it’s in agreement, or to say he can tell, you’re not sure.

“C’mon then.”

Dumbfounded, you’re not sure what “c’mon, then” even means. You hope he’s not implying...?

Reluctantly, you look over to him, and he’s waving an umbrella in his hand.

Oh, no. You can’t.

You shake your head rapidly. “It’s okay, really—“

“Please?” his voice is painfully quiet.

He’s practically begging for you to look him in the eye.

And who were you to resist? He’s always been difficult to say no to. 

You know that more than anyone.

So, when Oikawa makes his way outside, opens his umbrella, and gestures for you to get under...

You do, despite the pure melancholy that swallows you whole.

One year ago.

You don’t remember how it got to this point. Had you known that dating someone would have so many consequences, you would’ve been a little more careful with your feelings.

Falling for Tooru was easy, but terribly dangerous. You learnt this the hard way.

What started out with cute little love notes adorned all over your locker ended with handwritten threats telling you to.....

You can’t even think about it because it had brought tears to your eyes the first time. You’d think one insulting note about your appearance was enough, but it had worsened - even when you were trying hard to stay optimistic. Soon enough, you had to take jabs about your skills, your mannerisms, and little by little, they became daily reminders of how every single thing about you will always fall short compared to your beloved, Tooru.

“.... I can’t do this anymore,” You say, your voice barely above a breath.

Oikawa’s limbs immediately lock in place. He looks up and sees the sad look in your eyes, the way they glisten with tears. No, no, no...

“Surely, you don’t mean...?” He can’t even finish his own sentence, because the thought is too scary.

But somehow, you finish for him. Just like you’ve always finished each other’s sentences, you’ve managed to finish this one, too. Except it doesn’t make him laugh and kiss your lips in utter adoration. This time, it’s gut-wrenching.

“Yes, I want to break up, Tooru.” Your words are firm and sure, but you... you are anything but.

Tooru has to prevent this somehow, but he’s not sure how. 

How do you tell someone to stay?

When staying risks their safety?

When staying puts them in pain?

As out-of-worldly as his skills may be, Oikawa Tooru is only human. You have brought him too much joy for it just to end like this.... With some nobody who can’t keep their jealousy to themselves. And despite the pain you’re going through, he wants you to stay.

So, he brings his hands up to your cheeks, taking you in in your entirety.

“Y/n...” He pleads with his eyes, and it’s the most desperate you’ve seen him. Perhaps it’s because deep down, he knows he’s being selfish.

You swallow the lump in your throat, unable to form the right words in your mouth. Silently, you wrap your arms around his waist, so painfully slow, as if it was the last time you were going to hold him. As if to say sorry.

Sorry for what? You never did anything wrong.

He doesn’t bother to hug you back, because if he does, he’ll lose. Hugging you back will mean he’s also saying goodbye, and he’s not. He’s only just getting started with you. “We can’t...”

“We have to,” You force out, and he hates how absolutely rigid your words come out to be.

He shakes his head in denial. “No, we don’t.”

Your patience is running thin at this point. Because in truth, you tried. You always had, for him.

When the first note came, you didn’t tell him until weeks later. For months and months, you had put on a front to save his feelings and yours. At the time, pretending seemed like the best option.

But it wasn’t, because little did you know, pretending was a gateway to even more issues you had no idea was taking root in you. At this point, you’re not sure if you even know yourself anymore.

If you can’t understand yourself, does Tooru? Does he really love you, or does he just love the facade you put on?

Whatever the answer is, it doesn’t matter, because either way, you’re tired and in dire need of some healing. As terribly cruel as it may be, breaking up and focusing on yourself is truly the only way to be okay again. You may not be okay right now - if anything, the pain is excruciating - but the time will come. You have that much hope, at least.

“Yes, we do, Tooru,” you push onwards, pulling away from your embrace with a deep and sad frown tainting your features. “I love you - I really do - but I can’t keep pretending everything is okay. Those notes hurt, but that’s just the least of it... I just... need to be alone.”

“I’m sorry,” you finish with a sigh. He can’t even bring himself to ask why, because next thing he knew, you were out the door, making your way back home.

But what even was home at that point? Tooru was yours. Yet somehow, the foundation of love and passion wasn’t enough to keep it afloat.

Now.

“How are you?”

These are the first words that are spoken after ten long minutes of silence. Tooru - no, Oikawa is uncharacteristically awkward as he says them.

You’re not sure how to respond.

Had it been anyone else, you would’ve bluntly replied with a “fine”, but the question catches you off guard. When was the last time Oikawa Tooru asked you how you were?

So, so long ago.

It was never ‘how are you’ with him, but rather, ‘do you think aliens are real’ or ‘would you ever date an alien’. Or even, ‘do you know how much I love you’ or ‘what kind of house do you want to live in in the future’.

How did someone so near and dear to you become such a stranger?

You huff out a sigh, stopping your train of thought before it wanders off to somewhere it shouldn’t be.

“I’m okay,” you answer, holding back your tongue. You don’t even bother to ask ‘how are you’ back, because if you did, he’d probably answer with something so blunt and distant, you wouldn’t know how to react.

Yet, somehow, he doesn’t. Instead, he prods further, practically forcing a conversation on you. You’re not sure whether your thankful for it, or if it bothers you. No one likes an awkward silence, anyway.

“Do you still take the same way home?” He asks curiously, but his eyes are far-off, trained on the droplets of water that surround you two.

You furrow your eyebrows. What kind of question is that? “Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. I found a shortcut one day.”

He did?

How did he just find a shortcut? Out of nowhere, too?

“I know what you’re thinking.” He sighs, but it’s not out of irritation - at least, not towards you. “But I just.... one day, I was just walking around town and at the time, I was still hung up on you.”

“... So you found a shortcut to my house while that happened?”

“Yeah, basically,” he laughs at how foolish he sounds. Why is he even saying this?

“You can’t just tell me that,” you say, a little too coldly for his liking. “We broke up.”

“You broke up with me,” he argues, and you swear, somehow, the rain gets louder. “I wanted nothing to do with it. Y’know, I would’ve heard you out if you just talked to me. We were best friends, y/n.”

“I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want to say?” You stop in your tracks completely. “I know that at the time, I should’ve let you speak, but rationality doesn’t matter when you get daily notes telling you how ugly you are. I just needed it to end, somehow.”

Oikawa stops in his tracks, too. You’re no longer under the umbrella with him, instead you’re willingly getting soaked by the rain. From afar, this scene probably looks straight out of a drama.

He turns to face you in all your glory. Hair wet,  eyes glassy, and makeup-stained cheeks. It’s a beautiful, tragic mess.

“Did you believe anything they said about you?” He questions, so softly he’s not sure you can hear.

But you do. You always do.

“Sometimes,” you answer. It’s the first time you’ve been honest with him in a while. “Can you blame me?”

He frowns. “No, y/n.... I could never blame you, you know that?”

Did you?

To be fair, your sense of judgement back then was quite clouded. You didn’t know what to feel about yourself, and Tooru... you had just came to the conclusion that he deserved someone better. Someone who could take meaningless insults better.

You should’ve tried harder.

“I— it doesn’t matter anymore...” you reply. “It’s been a year, Tooru.”

You don’t even mean to say his first name, it just slips out naturally.

After a long pause, he sighs. 

“C’mere. You’re gonna get sick.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, walking forward into the shade of the umbrella. 

The next few minutes are a bit conflicting, to say the least. There are unspoken words hanging in the air that no one wants to say, nor think about. 

Oikawa’s grip around the umbrella is so unknowingly tight that he doesn’t even recognize the ache in his muscles. What good would it do to rekindle a fire that never really went out in the first place?

After the breakup, he never really... moved on. He watches, observes you from a distance, and when he works up the courage to approach you, you’re gone. As difficult as it was to find you again, he still notices things that give him hope.

 He notices how your gaze unknowingly lingers as he walks past the halls. How a small smile creeps up your lips when you hear that the boys’ volleyball club had won a match. 

You still care, he knows that much.

But is it worth trying to be close to you again?

“You don’t have to ever talk to me again after this if that makes you comfortable,” he tells you, his expression weirdly unreadable. “But let me just say this.”

He pauses his walking and turns to face you. His gaze on you is so intense, it practically compels you to meet his eyes. 

You don’t like where this is going. At all. Once you get too comfortable and stare too hard, you’ll fall into the same rabbit hole you got yourself into a year ago. Being in his mere presence is dangerous, and that’s why you were so adamant about avoiding him so much in the first place.

But he’s hypnotizing and so, so tempting. One second turns to five when you stare at his face.

“I miss you. Not even just in a romantic way, but you were my friend first,” he confesses, and the sincerity that follows his words shatters your heart. “I’m sorry it turned out like this.”

A lump forms in your throat but you’re too frozen in place to swallow it. Because you see him - the little freckles on his nose, the flush in his cheeks, the dreamy look in his eyes. They hold remnants of your second year in high school, when love was what it was supposed to be - exhilarating, healthy, and freeing. 

You see him on TV, hear his name in the halls, dream of tasting his lips when you’re asleep. There was never an escape even when you desperately tried to avoid him, and now that he’s right here in front of you, you actually have a chance to touch him. To kiss him.

And you want to. So, so badly. His lips look so terribly cold and lonely. 

But who were you to relieve that?

Good god, did you miss him.

“I miss you too,” you breathe out, weak in the knees at the force of his gaze. “I wish I didn’t take those notes so personally. Wish it didn’t come between us.”

He smiles. “So hard on yourself as always, y/n,” he says, a ghost of a chuckle leaving his lips. “Anyone would’ve lost their minds. I would’ve.”

“Yeah... But I should’ve told you earlier,” you argue. “Maybe then we would’ve resolved it—“

“You are not at fault for us falling apart,” He sounds confident - as if it was a truth. 

You don’t know why he keeps insisting it wasn’t your fault. It was. 

Your only argument back is, “... Was too.”

Tooru squints his eyes. Two can play this game.

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Was not.”

“Was not.”

“Was too— oh, fuck off.” Your expression fades to a glare. 

Oh, how he missed this.

“But seriously, I never ever blamed you for what happened,” he prods firmly, making sure you get the idea into your pretty little head. The idea that he doesn’t hate you - never has, never will. “I just miss us. Do you think you could ever....?”

You tilt your head to the side. “Ever... what?”

A full on blush blooms across his cheeks. “Date me... again..?”

Now, it’s your turn to chuckle. “Seriously, you still want to? After all that shit?”

“Of course I want to, are you kidding me?” Tooru quips back, not wasting a second. “I’m crazy over you, y/n.”

That’s it.

You don’t even know what comes over you for what happens next. Before you could get a hold of your senses, your lips are on his. The taste is one you’ve had on your tongue countless of times, but this time, it’s so strange, so new.

Whatever unsaid apologies you never worked the courage to tell him take the form of this - your perfect lips, and your wandering hands. You two don’t even notice how the umbrella is long gone, allowing the rain to kiss you all over. 

He’s close, so close. His chest is pressed against yours and you can practically feel his bare skin through the thin, wet fabric of his uniform. It’s so intoxicating, you could pass out, right here and right now.

How did you ever give this up?

“I love you,” he whispers after pulling away, his hands cupping your cheeks and gazing at your face in its entirety. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long.”

He doesn’t stop there, though. He nuzzles his nose into yours, then kisses your forehead, then your cheeks, then plays with your hair.

You want to cry.

“You still... want me?” You ask, your voice painfully small. 

“Yeah, I still want you.” The grin on his lips don’t allow any room for question. “Do you still want me?”

“Yeah... Sadly,” you send him a cheeky smile back.

He flicks the back of your head, and soon enough, you two are kissing in the rain again.

Perhaps this is a sign that Oikawa Tooru is bound to you. He wants you endlessly, kisses like an absolute god, and unknowingly lives through all your worst days with you.

You wouldn’t mind if fate just so happened to like the look of you two together. Shitty, handwritten notes or not.

You like the look of Tooru with you, too.

[i-love-hobbies]

(This isn't an anti-Eda, anti-Lilith or anti-Bump post. Just read this fully, please!)

Murder and violence are not ok!

This whole thing started literally after s1ep2 where Eda murdered a dude on screen.

What am I talking about?

"It's just a cartoon. Don't read too much into it."

I don't have a very strong opinion on this but I'm not a fan of normalizing murder. Also "Heroes that are genocidal maniacs, kill the villain cause he's awful." sounds extremely cringe.

And why are you reading a post that analyses a part of a cartoon right now?

"Death is normal on the Boiling isles, so that makes it ok."

Woah, woah! WHAT?

If everyone used that logic, slavery would still be a thing.

Just cause it's normalized in a culture doesn't mean it's less harmful or that everyone that comes from that culture does it.

It can be used to explain someone's actions, but not excuse them.

The ignorance of context.

1. Eda's murders

First I wanna point out that it was never emotional, it was all calculated. Remember when Tibbles scammed her, she didn't attack him back. None of her kills are revenge. She has always had something to win from them.

She has murdered two people, probably more, Adegast and Tibbles.

If she didn't kill Adegast. I can see this going two ways. He would starve to death, which means she put him out of his misery or he would slowly go back to full power which ties with Tibbles.

Batman kills the Joker.

No they are not as bad as the Joker but they would have continued trying to hurt her untill they got the idea of killing Willow and Gus in their sleep. TIBBLES KNEW THEIR ADDRESS!

Also if they were willing to do this. Who knows what else they have done to other people too. By doing this she has saved more lifes than she has taken (mostly kids).

Plus this willingness to kill is probably the reason Luz can go to school. Eda's enemies know that if they become an actual treat, things won't end well.

Her enemies are criminals. They are not stupid enough to think that she is helpless without magic. Especially now that she isn't running from the law.

- Now on to almost killing Amity in s1ep5 by making Luz cheat. That was messed up but not that badly.

Witches are harder to hurt, there were healers around who would help a Blight. She saw Amity use abomination so she knew mainly her traps were gonna be activated by a non-living thing.

Luz was going to be injured if that didn't happen. Amity was not in control of her strength and I don't think Lilith thought this trough. Though both sisters would have probably intervened when this got out of hand.

She also isn't the one to force Luz into the fight as many people have said. She has never on screen forced her opinion on someone else except in s1ep9 which was to protect her from school and changed in that episode. Luz just couldn't leave cause quitting ment never being able to perform magic.

Now I know that the right thing to do here was for her to try talk things through. I'm just saying it's not as bad as it seems.

2. Eda's scamming

To get my point across I'm gonna compare it to Wordlob.

Hers is the equivalent of you trying to buy gold and getting plastic. His is the equivalent of you're desperate for a cure and he promises to give it to you and then steals all your money and leaves you to die.

You're not going to try to buy gold when your desperate are you?

Scamming can take different forms and hers is the least harmful.

And consider this, what else can she do to put food on the table with her two adopted kids, Hooty and Owlbert. She can't find a legal job, cause that would be helping Belos, she'll die before she does that and she definitely knows ways to disguise herself but that puts her at risk as well.

3. Lilith's redemption arc still works

Yes, she did murder a bird in s1ep18, but the way it talked and acted. It seemed like it was mimicking speach.

Yes, she did almost kill a child, but she has made up for it probably in that week and a half that we didn't see considering this is the Boiling isles and everything is trying to kill you.

Plus, Eda only talked about the curse, considering "You hurt Luz, you cursed me!" She is not the person who would forget about her kid.

Bonus, she did make up for it on screen as well. In s2ep2 she saved King from Eda's experiments. In s2ep3 she saved Luz and King with her ice glyphs, when she could have just left, giving time for Eda to get them out of there. If Eda didn't show up Lilith would be dead.

4. Bump's jokes

- Dissecting Luz

I don't know why everyone talks about Bump and Amity trying to dissect Luz. They weren't certain if this was going to kill her. They weren't certain if she was alive. All they knew was that the lie will be broken if this would kill her.

Yes, they did try to catch her later on, but not to kill her. They wanted to make sense of what's going on and hopefully find her parents so she gets at the very least a talk on why she shouldn't do this.

Willow just overreacted which in return made Luz do the same.

- Bump's detention room

This room is a hypnosis one. Hypnosis is a job in real life. It can be dangerous but that can also be said about therapy if the therapist is bad. Depends on who does it.

"Impressive still alive!" This is a joke.

If a hypnotic session is stopped in the middle, you'd be too relaxed to be able to move. He was fine, he just needed some time.

- Bump's add

Everything that attacked Matt was alive. He probably did something to piss them off. But yeah Bump should have done something.

- Detention track

Guys knowing what he did for Willow in s1ep3, it's obvious that he was in a lot of stress. If he did what he did in that episode regularly. You just touch an orb and byeeeeee. Then this place should have been crowded.

Plus the wall with troublemakers' names had what six names and a portrait of lord calamity. Eda left school before three decades. And that's all we got.

He was probably not gonna keep them there even though he said so. He probably wasn't even planning that.

- Grom was very messed up. I have nothing to say except I wouldn't be surprised if the Emporer's coven forces this to be a thing and refuses to send actual adults, so the kids learn from a young age or whatever.

- Same with the photomemory class.

- "Bosha got away with murder. I can't say I approve, but at least she's trying new things."

This was a joke. Bosha's parents definitely have influence. His hands are tied like usual so he has learned to make jokes out of it. Plus since when are principals responsible for what happens out of school grounds.

5. The bat queen

She is a protector of palismans and I don't think she started to kill until the government was against her (I'm talking about her cave having bones all over it.)

I can't say it's completely justified like I did with Eda. But I don't see a way out of it where palisman wouldn't be extinct.

Now let's see our vilians' behaviour

1. Adegast

He was trying to kill Eda for his business by using a child as a bait.

2. Tibbles

He almost murdered four children so his stand is revenged.

3. Piniate

Is keeping people captive and literally is making them helpless as a punishment for not writing a book.

4. Demon hunters

They were gonna trow kids off a cliff. I'm not sure why actually.

5. The cat ladies

They were kidnapping children for their cafe.

6. The "coven" inspecture

She was stealing all the magic from none other than kids for power.

7. Wordlob

Who knows how many people have died, lost their jobs and so one, cause of his scams. All for money.

8. Warden wrath

He cut Eda's head so she goes out with him. Captures people for nothing.

9. Odalia and Alador

Alador was not stopping Odalia from trying to kill Luz. In their mind this was gonna help in combination with their child abuse, with their daughter helping their business. Everything they have done for now is for their business.

They backed up when Alador saw an opportunity for THEIR BUSINESS.

10. Kikimora

She tried to murder a child, cause of jealousy. Uses her authority to make the system even worse, cause how dare them look in her direction.

11. Belos

Is abusing a child and abused Lilith. Is the reason that palisman are getting extinct. Wild magic= death sentence. Basically created a horrible authority system that has created a lot of suffering and who knows how many it has killed. Probably all for power, though we don't know completely.

[melanielocke]

An experiment with a Fairchild

Alastair goes to the Fairchild's house to visit Charles, but finds only Henry home, who is working on something.

CW for toxic relationship

Taglist: @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite

I don't think this really adds up with the timeline since I'm not sure Henry was actually in London at the time but I don't care. It's somewhere during early Chain of Gold.

Alastair knocked on the door of the house in Grosvenor Square. The consul was currently in Idris and would not be home, and Alastair was fairly certain Matthew was someplace else with his band of bandits or whatever they called themselves nowadays. Charles’ father he wasn’t so sure about, but Alastair imagined he would have gone with her. He sincerely hoped Charles would be home. He’d missed Charles and hoped they could talk about his engagement. Alastair could make him understand, how unhappy it made him. They would work something out, Alastair was sure of it. It would be like Paris again, just the two of them. He could be happy, as long as he had Charles’ love.

The door opened, but it wasn’t Charles standing in the doorway, nor any of the servants. Instead, sitting in a bath chair, was Charles’ father. Henry Branwell, known for inventing the portal, although Alastair didn’t think he got the recognition he deserved. He didn’t know much about Henry beyond that, Charles was far closer to his mother than his father and Alastair didn’t think Charles really understood his father’s work.

‘Good afternoon,’ Henry said. ‘I’m not sure we’ve met? I’m Henry Fairchild.’

Alastair didn’t realize Henry used his wife’s name. He knew Charles’ mother had chosen to give him her last name instead of Henry’s because of her position as consul, which was an unusual decision, but he’d never heard of a husband taking his wife’s name.

Charles often claimed his parents hadn’t married out of love either, that his mother had married his father because she needed the support of a husband to advance her career. Therefore, it was fine he was marrying for political reasons and would never love his wife. But Henry Fairchild must love his wife very much, to have taken her name.

‘I’m Alastair Carstairs,’ Alastair said. ‘I’m here to see Charles, is he home?’

‘Right, you must be Charles’ friend. No, I don’t think he’s at home right now.’

‘Oh that’s too bad,’ Alastair said, attempting to hide the disappointment in his voice. ‘Do you know where he is?’

Perhaps he was at his club, Alastair thought. He’d been there once before with Charles, who’d wanted to introduce him to the club. Alastair had not yet managed to win much approval there, but he was determined to keep trying. Many high standing shadowhunter men were members of the same gentleman’s club Charles went to, and Alastair wanted so badly to fit in there. Even if deep down, he knew he never would, not really. Even with his hair dyed blonde, his skin was still too dark to pass for a white English man. At most they would accept an act he put on. Still, Alastair tried the best he could to be what they wanted and win their approval, especially Charles’.

‘No, I’m not sure. But I expect he’ll be home soon. Why don’t you come in and wait there. I am working on something fascinating.’

Alastair hesitated, but he guessed it couldn’t hurt to come in. If at any point Matthew arrived, he could always make his way out. He didn’t hate Matthew, not really. He thought Matthew was immature, and sometimes Alastair was jealous that it was so easy for Matthew to be himself, but that was all, and Alastair deeply regretted his behavior at school.

However, Alastair thought it was best for all parties involved if he stayed away from Matthew, who was clearly still mad with him. Who could blame him, honestly? Charles knew, of course, about the bad blood between them, but had chosen to believe Matthew had been a brat at school and did not blame Alastair for his behavior. While that was true to some extent, Alastair had been far worse. However, if he was to be accepted, he should not show such weakness, and the best course of action was to stay away. Perhaps coming here was a bad decision.

Henry retreated into his lab, and while Alastair waited with some tea provided by a servant, he felt very awkward. What were his duties here? He would have expected someone inviting him in to stay with him, although a conversation with Charles’ father would have been just as awkward. Where was Charles? Was he coming?

In the end, Alastair did decide to take a look in the lab.

‘Ah, there you are,’ Henry said. ‘You were taking your time with that tea. Do you prefer it colder?’

Truth to be told, Alastair didn’t like the way the English made their tea at all, but he reserved his complaints about the awful food and drinks of this country for when he was having tea with his mother and Risa.

‘It was quite hot,’ was all Alastair said.

‘After some deliberation I’ve decided to give the Phosphor another chance,’ Henry said. ‘It was unfortunately, a failed invention, but I still believe I could make it work.’

‘What is it supposed to be?’ Alastair asked.

Henry fell into a lecture of his work, how he’d wanted to invent a light source five times brighter than witchlights. So far the Phosphor had mostly resulted in fires, and Henry had abandoned the project in favor of the portal. Alastair noticed how passionate Henry seemed when he talked about his interests. He could be passionate too, but Charles said that was not a good thing. It was important that he appeared rational at all times, not clouded by emotion.

‘Nor did I like working with something so highly flammable while Charles and Matthew were small,’ Henry said. ‘It would be too dangerous with small and vulnerable children depending on me. But they’re growing up so fast. Charles will be married soon and move out with his wife.’

Alastair wasn’t so sure what Charles intended to do. He’d assured him the engagement was temporary, that he would not marry miss Bridgestock. But she was under the impression the marriage would take place. Then who was Charles lying to?

‘So now is the right time to give it another try?’ Alastair concluded.

‘Precisely. However, something is not right with my calculations, and I cannot figure it out. Do you have an interest in science yourself, Mr. Carstairs?’

Alastair had once, although not to the extent Henry did. He was good at math, at least, and fascinated by the theory.

‘A little,’ he said. ‘But I’m mainly interested in politics.’

Alastair glanced over the calculations Henry had written down. They were complex, but Alastair was good at math and at least this part of the inventing process he could follow along.

‘There’s a mistake here,’ Alastair said. ‘Maybe that’s why it’s not working.’

Henry moved over to look at the calculations, and Alastair pointed out the errors, working with Henry to fix the errors. Would it work now?

‘Are you sure you’re not interested in becoming a scientist or an inventor?’ Henry asked. ‘You’re quite clever. I think it is limiting, to think of shadowhunters only as warriors. Some are, and that’s fine, but there are more ways to make the world better than just killing demons. The experiments Christopher and I do all serve the purpose of improving life for shadowhunters, yet so few understand.’

Henry sounded resigned, had he accepted the way he was viewed? Alastair found it difficult to imagine. He knew what it was to be mocked, and he never wanted to experience that again. He didn’t think he could bear it, but perhaps Henry was simply stronger than he was.

‘That’s their loss,’ Alastair said. ‘There are many ways to improve the world beyond fighting. I’m not an inventor, but I hope I can improve the Clave by getting into politics someday.’

Alastair wasn’t completely sure it was what he wanted anymore. Even if he did succeed, he knew people would gossip. He could never be the perfect politician shadowhunters expected, not without a wife, and Alastair was determined that no matter how much he pretended to be something he was not, he would never pretend to love someone he could never have such feelings for. He admired Henry, for not caring what people thought of him. He wished he could be like that, be himself, and be appreciated, if not by society then by a smaller group of people who loved him. But Alastair didn’t think that was possible, because no one could love the real him, could they? After pretending for so long, he didn’t even know who the real Alastair was anymore.

‘Ah, like Lottie,’ Henry said. ‘I so admire what she does. I could never make people listen like she does. And Charles wants to be just like her. Truth to be told, he’s a far better assistant to her than I could ever hope to be.’

‘Charles is good at what he does,’ Alastair said.

Alastair hoped some day he would be too. He read all the books Charles recommended, he worked tirelessly on formulating his own ideas. But whenever he presented his ideas to Charles, he was met with laughter. As if his ideas were just a joke to him, as if he were far too young and silly to understand. It made him feel awful. Alastair usually tried to downplay it then, pretend he hadn’t been absolutely serious about these ideas. Because clearly if Charles didn’t take him seriously, his ideas weren’t as good as they’d seemed at first and he needed to do better. He’d convinced his mother that he could help their family’s social standing by succeeding in politics rather than marrying, but how could he if not even Charles thought his ideas were worth anything?

‘I must admit I don’t understand his work nearly as well as you must,’ Henry said. ‘I’m glad he has a friend like you. I have worried about him. Always so focused on work, he doesn’t have many friends and I worry he’s lonely. I think he finds it difficult to make friends. But you and he, you are good friends are you not?’

‘We are,’ Alastair said, suddenly terrified Henry would suspect he and Charles were not quite friends, but lovers instead.

He wasn’t quite sure what Henry meant about Charles not having many friends. Charles attended his club along with many shadowhunter men, and he seemed friendly with many of them. Of course, even then he mainly talked about politics and tried to build alliances to further his career. Alastair wasn’t sure Charles really cared about any of them, perhaps he was the only one Charles had former a true connection with. If anything, it made him feel more special to be the only one trusted and appreciated by him.

‘He’s lucky to have you,’ Henry said.

‘Father, what are you doing here with Alastair?’

Charles was standing in the doorway. He looked weary, and Alastair wanted to go to him, but he didn’t dare, not when Henry Fairchild was still here to witness them. Although strangely, he suspected if there were shadowhunters who did not condemn men like him and Charles, it would be Henry.

‘Ah, there you are, Charles. Your friend has been waiting for you.’

Charles sighed. ‘Please do not bother my friends with your experiments. I am sorry for this, Alastair. I was caught up at the Institute, you know how it is.’

Alastair was a bit shocked by the way Charles spoke to Henry. Compared to his father, Henry seemed kind, if only a bit absent minded. He knew Charles did not understand his father well, but it was quite rude to speak to him in such a manner. His mother certainly wouldn’t tolerate it if he spoke to her like this.

Henry didn’t say anything else, and Alastair left the lab with Charles to go upstairs, to his bedroom. As Alastair understood it, Henry rarely left his lab and there was little danger of him interrupting him.

‘Are you very tired?’ Alastair asked.

‘Just work,’ Charles said. ‘It’s becoming a bit much lately, but that’s alright. This is my chance to show my best qualities, after all. Exhaustion is a small price to pay. And I have you with me now, and that more than makes up for it. I could use some relaxation.’

And Alastair obliged, as he always did. Even if part of him was still upset with Charles, he knew that if he wanted to earn his lover’s affection and loyalty, he would have to be there for him when Charles needed him and give him what he wanted. At least now he could experience what if felt like to be loved, and Alastair knew love was supposed to hurt. It was better than nothing, better than being alone. Still, he wished he could be more like Charles’ father, doing what was right for him and being who he was regardless of what anyone else thought. But Alastair had lost himself a long time ago, the only time when he felt even remotely like himself was when he was in Charles’ arms. And even then, he still did not feel quite right and couldn’t figure out what was missing. He did not know who he was anymore.