#it’s not an excuse but an explanation for why I drop off sometimes

[sharingresourcesforpalestine]

‼️currently physically and mentally ailing and as such very disabled in my activity. I am also unemployed so I have not had much money to budget for donations, and I can only do two to three campaigns a month. I deeply apologize. I will always reblog fundraisers unless they are being investigated for scams. This will be pinned until the situation changes, health and funds-wise.‼️

[whorelaud]

bf!rafe making it up to his stubborn girlfriend a/n a lil smthin based on this post eheh!!

A weary sigh escaped your throat, as you boredly scrolled through tiktok, with your boyfriend mere inches away, too busy conversing with Topper on the phone to direct his attention to you. 

You knew how important business was for Rafe, but sometimes it got out of hand, with him forgetting himself on the phone, taking one call after another, completely abandoning you on his bed (like you’re one of his night stands; in your words). 

Your lips tugged into a smile when you stumbled upon a funny video, chuckling as you sent it to Rafe, though you could’ve easily moved across the bed and shoved it in his face. That wasn’t a choice right now, as you were mad at him, too upset to humor him with silly cats whom you referred to as ‘us’ when you sent it to him. 

The ping ringed through Rafe’s ear, earning a puzzled look out of the latter when he checked the notification, and noticed it was a video from you. He turned in your direction, eyebrows quirking with confusion, almost as if he was seeking an explanation for his silent question. 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you shuffled around in bed, until you were no longer facing your boyfriend, giving him your back instead. You got back to scrolling through tiktok, hoping Rafe would get the hint and finally call it off for the night. 

And he did, coming up with a random excuse to get rid of Topper, not giving him a chance to question Rafe before the boy already hung up, immediately checking the video you sent. You suppressed the smile forming on your lips as the sound of his giggles erupted through your ears, spiraling a fit of excitement through your chest. 

“What is this?!” He asked, leaning against the bed frame, lips pursing into a pout when he didn't receive a response in return. “Hello? Baby?” Rafe paused for a moment, gaze fully fixed on you, in hopes of earning your attention. He scoffed, finally understanding what you were doing. “Are you ignoring me?” 

His attention shifted back to the screen when his phone pinged with another notification from you, your said message causing him to grin from ear to ear. 

‘shut up.’ and another, ‘dont speak 2 me.’ 

“Are you mad at me?” He cooed, tossing his phone to the side, before he eventually joined your side, nuzzling around to get comfortable now that your back pressed firmly over his chest. “C’mon, speak to me, why are you giving me the silent treatment?” 

You remained silent, choking back a giggle when his face found the crook of your neck, planting soft kisses to your skin as his breath fanned over the flesh, the sensation like feather to your skin. 

“Is this about Topper?” He questioned between kisses, voice slightly muffled. Rafe then wrapped an arm around your waist, pressing you closer to his chest, even more close than earlier, if that was even possible. “I’m sorry, you know I get busy sometimes, I don't mean to purposely ignore you.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Rafe perked up when you spoke, smiling as he took in the side of your face, your frown instantly replaced with a sheepish smile. “Might as well jus’ break up with me, since you’re so busy n’ all that stuff.” 

“All that stuff?” He repeated, fully straightening in his position. He poked your cheek with his finger, giggling when you smacked his hand, feigning oblivion to your amused expression despite how annoyed you seemed. “Didn’t you just compare us to cats? You do that with everyone you break up with?” 

“Hmm,” you hummed, giving in when Rafe tugged your chin, forcing your face in his direction. You pretended to think, grabbing his hand and kissing it, the gesture slightly catching Rafe off guard, well aware of how stubborn you are when you're upset. “Only with the handsome ones.” 

“You think I’m handsome?” He muttered, voice dropping barely above a whisper. He leaned down, brushing his thumb over your lip. He pecked your forehead, the press of his plush lips tickling your flesh. “I’m sorry, I love you.” 

“It’s okay,” you reassured, levelling yourself with Rafe as you straightened up, now face to face with him. “I jus’ missed you s’all, you know I require a lot of attention.” 

“And I’m willing to give it to you,” he mumbled, “Missed,” a kiss, “my pretty,” and another, “girl.” You giggled, throwing your head back in an attempt to playfully dodge his kisses, merely for Rafe to chase after your lips, now fully pinning you to the bed. “Let’s watch more cat videos,” he said, grabbing your phone from the night stand. “Stop sulking with me, yeah?” 

You rolled your eyes, maintaining a blank expression as Rafe set your phone in front of your face, waiting for face ID to work. “You’re so annoying.” 

“And you love me,” he replied, face twisting into a frown as his fingers hovered over the screen. “Where the fuck is tiktok?” 

[ozzgin]

hear me out okayy imagine house full of obsessed monster x clueless human reader

I hear you alright. 👀 Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, mildly NSFW, obsessive behavior, stalking

You had been selected for an exchange program organized by the monster realm: one human to live with monsters, and one monster to walk among humans. They called it a cultural exchange.

Of course, you only found out about it after being kidnapped from your apartment. You thought you'd been taken by some mad serial killer and begged for mercy, until they finally dropped you before a regular looking office desk.

"Why the hell is the human so pale? What did you do?"

The monster lackeys fidgeted and mumbled some barely audible excuse. A slime creature poured you some coffee, and you gawked in confusion. The horned beast at the other side of the table seemed to realize his mistake.

"...They didn't tell you anything, did they?"

You shook your head in denial. To their defense, they'd never dealt with a human before. They must've gotten too flustered in the process, forgetting to speak. Or something along that line. You waved your hand, accepting their explanation, then probed for more details.

The whole ordeal is really mostly meant to satisfy their own curiosity towards humans, but they obviously couldn't express it so crassly to you. It's an exchange, you see. You, too, get to learn about monster customs, from the comfort of a shared home.

Thus, for the indefinite future, you'll be living with several creatures as roommates. You have been provided with your own room, naturally, in order to ensure your privacy.

Then again, how much privacy can one possibly get when surrounded by horny, deliriously infatuated creatures? Your underwear occasionally goes missing. You swear you feel watched every time you shower. And even more bizarre, you sometimes wake up to find a sticky film covering your pillow.

It must be anxiety. It was such a sudden change, after all. That's what the monstrous mates tell you in a sweet, caring voice. You appreciate their involvement, completely oblivious to the perversions taking place behind your back. Even the organizer couldn't foresee the unhinged thirst these beasts have for you. He didn't intend to ship you off as a wet dream to a pack of monsters.

"Is this alright, you think?" you ask, doing a little spin in the living room in order to show the chosen outfit from different angles.

The monsters shift slightly in their seats. If they were to be entirely transparent, you'd look much better stuffed with their appendages, pressed between them, coated in their fluids.

"Looks great", one of them manages to mumble, somewhat feverish. He let his mind wander too much.

"By the way, what were you doing last night? I could hear you saying my name repeatedly from your room."

The creature visibly tenses up.

"I was...I was practicing. It's a little hard to pronounce your name, you know? Being human and all..."

"Why didn't you just say so? I can help you with it. We'll practice until you finish properly", you declare with an innocent smile.

God. Keeping their hands off is becoming harder by the day.

[More Monsters]

[eclipixels]

Through The Phone

Yoichi Isagi x Reader

Content: Isagi finally gets his phone back and you two try to compensate for how much you've missed each other

Wanings: 🍋

[2,256 words]

      It had been a few weeks since your boyfriend left for the Blue Lock program. You found out through his parents when he hadn’t texted you back about the mysterious "thingy" he had to attend. Turns out, it was some highly competitive soccer training program.

      The first few days without him were tough. You cried more than you'd like to admit, missing his handsome face and honey-smooth voice. Over time, you adjusted. Still, you’d often scroll through photos of the two of you or drop by his house to visit his parents, hoping to feel a little closer to him.

      So when you got a text from Isagi. The excitement bubbled over immediately, and you squealed, jumping up and down like a kid on Christmas morning. But you knew better than to let on how much you missed him. You had to play it cool, couldn’t have him thinking you were desperate, even if you were totally melting inside.

      You knew how hard it must be for him, being so far away from you. But then, an idea popped into your head. If you couldn’t give him a kiss in person, maybe you could send a little extra encouragement. You two would sometimes have a quickie before a match. It was stupid, but your boyfriend truly believed it would help his wins. He'd say it'd give him a dopamine boast, a reminder of what he'd come back to and who he's playing for. You just thought he was being a horny teenager with a lame excuse on why he wants to fuck his girlfriend all the time.

      Wearing his old Ichinan jersey, light and soft with his number and name on it, and a pair of light blue panties, you snapped a quick picture. Before you could overthink it, you sent it off.

      Isagi was stunned when he saw the picture, his face flushing bright red. His heart raced, and a surge of determination lit up inside him.

      The overthinker in him spiraled, imagining every worst-case scenario. What if he sucked and you left him for someone better and years later you have a family and he’ll be forever lonely, lazy, fat, and dumb with no education beyond what Blue Lock interrupted him at. He had to become number one, he had to win for you. If he didn’t, his dreams of marrying you would crumble alongside a failed soccer career.

      Rationally, he knew none of that would happen. You had always supported him, through wins and losses alike, proving time and again that you believed in him unconditionally. But still, he had to win. For his girlfriend. For his future. And he did. He used his direct shot to score the final goal, the whistle blowing three times signaling the end. His team won. He may have shown humbleness on the outside but God, was he one cocky mother fucker. As soon he was able to, he called you.

      He'd been yearning for you. The sound of your voice when you picked up was like heaven's symphony to him.

      "Hello?" you answered.

      "God, I’ve missed you. How are you?" he asked eagerly.

      "Other than missing you terribly? I’m fine," you grumbled. "How was the match?"

      "It was great! I scored the final goal. We’re probably moving on to the second selection soon."

      "That’s amazing, Ichi. I’m so proud of you," you said warmly.

      "Thanks, you’re always so sweet Y/n-chan" he said, his voice soft. "I love you."

      "I love you more," you replied, a playful tone creeping into your voice. "By the way... did you see the picture I sent?”

      Isagi chuckled. "The one of you in those pretty lace panties? Yeah, I saw it."

      "Did it help you win?"

      "I don’t see any other explanation," he teased back, making you laugh.

      "I’m glad you liked it. I know it’s not the same, though”

      "It’s not, I miss your cuddles. Your kisses. The way your lips feel on my skin when you… oh God"

      Your breath hitched. "What? You thinking about it now?"

      "You’re all I’ve been thinking about since I got here," he admitted. "It’s like you and soccer are the only things in my head. Open my brain, and that’s all you’d find."

      His humor made you laugh, but the warmth in his voice melted you. "But seriously, you looked so cute in my jersey. Was there anything underneath?"

      "Just what you saw,"

      "So no bra?"

      "Nope."

      "Fuck," he groaned. "You know how hard it’s been without you? Every time I think about you, it’s torture."

      "Oh, Ichi, I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking about you too," you murmured.

      "Yeah? What do you think about?"

      "Not telling you," you said with a smirk.

      "Aw, come on," he whined. "It’s okay. I can probably guess."

      "You’re so full of yourself," you scoffed, laughing.

      "Hmm you jealous that you aren't?"

      "Yoichi!" You gasped, how dare he expose you like this?

      "What was it again? 'Oh, stuff me full ichi, I need all of you! Fill me up!'" He continued mocking you, that jerk.

      "Hey! Stop that! Or I’m gonna hang up!"

      “Okay, okay, I’m sorry love.”

      “Sure you are,” You huffed.

      "Think you can face time me later tonight?" he asked, his tone low and suggestive.

      You hesitated, your cheeks heating. You’d never done anything like what it sounded like Isagi was suggesting before over the phone. But for Isagi, your sweet boyfriend, you’d do anything.

      "I might," you replied coyly, already knowing you’d give in

      Isagi's mind was in a frenzy, the thought of you wearing his jersey combined with the picture you'd sent making it impossible to focus on anything else. The soft curve of your thighs, the way the fabric clung to you, he missed it. He missed laying on them, squeezing them, and most of all, he missed burying his face between your legs until his chin was dripping with a mixture of his saliva and your cum.

      “Don’t you have roommates?” you asked, noting how dim his surroundings were. The faint glow of the screen illuminated his face, his baby blue eyes locked on you.

      “Yeah,” he muttered, a little angry at the thought of those cock-blocks. “But I’m in a broom closet right now, so...”

      You couldn’t help but laugh, covering your mouth as he gave you a pointed look. The lengths he was going to just to have this moment with you were ridiculous and endearing.

      “You’re still wearing my jersey,” he pointed out, his eyes tracing the neckline and dipping lower. His tongue darted out to wet his lips subconsciously.

      “Of course I am,” you said casually, though the way his gaze lingered made you squirm.

      “How’d you even get it?”

      “I grabbed it when I was visiting your parents, been going over there quite often now” you admitted with a small smile.

      He chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, I know. They told me. Said they made katsu for you once, and you couldn’t even eat it without tearing up.”

      You frowned, your cheeks heating. “Bruh.”

      “What? It’s cute,” he teased, “So… you’ve been going through my stuff like a little stalker, huh?”

      “Maybe, so what? I just miss you.” You pouted, crossing your arms. “That's why I sometimes take a nap in your room. It smells like you.”

      “That’s cute. A little unfair though because I have nothing of you.” He pouted.

      “Can’t relate, I have a plethora of your hoodies to steal from.”

      “You can take the boyfriend away from the girl, but you can’t take the girl away from the girlfriend activities,” he said, then paused. “Wait, that sounded better in my head.”

      You rolled your eyes. “You’re such a dork.”

      “I’m your dork.” He said with a loopy grin. Oh, this boy.

      “Is that all you do?” His smile turned sheepish, but he stayed quiet, waiting for you to answer.

      "No.." You shy away, feeling embarrassed at the filthy things you do he doesn't know about.

      "Oh?" He raised a brow.

      “Sometimes,” you started, “when your parents aren’t home, I go into your room and take off my clothes, put on one of your shirts, and just… think about you. About all the times you’ve had me in that bed. And then I can’t stop myself.”

      The air shifted, the intimacy of your confession making his breath hitch. His cheeks flushed, but his expression was intense, his hand slipping lower as he adjusted his position.

      “You really play with yourself?” he asked, his voice rougher now. “On my bed in my clothes?”

      “Yeah,” you murmured, feeling the weight of his gaze through the screen. He could picture it, you writhing on his bed, your pretty face flushed red and sweaty, your fingers deep in your cunt as you repeat his name mindlessly.

      “Tell me,” He breathed, his hand now at the waistband of his pants, “what you do.”

      “I think about your hands and what they felt like. I pretend it’s you touching me.” You whisper.

      “Can you do that for me right now?” Isagi asked, feeling the way his dick was getting constricted in his pants.

      “Yes.” You answered obediently.

      “Let me watch.” He said, tucking his bangs out the way to be able to see you better. You lowered the camera down from your flushed face to between your legs. The view was great. He could see the way your breasts sat on your chest from this angle, too. He watched as you brought a finger over your clothed cunt, rubbing the spot until a wet spot formed.

      “Tell me what to do, Ichi.” You begged.

      “Move your panties out the way.” He muttered, watching as you pulled the fabric aside, your folds glossy and so ready for him. What a torture it was to see something that he knew belonged to him yet was unable to do anything about it.

      “Spread for me, pretty girl” He commanded, shivering at the sound it made when your fingers touched it, slick with arousal. He tried to recall the taste of it on his tongue. His hands were already moving over himself, imagining what it would be like to be with you in that moment.

      “Ichi” you whined. “I wanna see too”

      “Yeah? Anything my girl wants” He whispered, panning the camera down to his hands that were stroking his cock. You could feel the saliva in your mouth build up at the sight as well as the arousal between your legs that began to pool down your thighs.

      “N-not as good as you do it. Miss your mouth, miss your hands, miss that sweet little cunt.” Isagi panted, his mind going haywire as you continued to touch yourself, breathy noises of satisfaction falling out your mouth.

      “I’m sorry Ichi, sorry I can’t suck you off.” You apologized, fingers covered in your wetness going in and out.

      “S’okay baby, just keep showing off for me, yeah? Show me how much you’ve missed me.” He groaned between breathy sighs, trying not to be too vocal and attract attention. This was just what he needed after this fuck ass week.

      “I miss it when you’d do it, I can’t do it right like you do.” You inserted two fingers in for him, feeling his gaze burn into your body through the phone.

      “Oh baby, I know. No one can get you off like I can, no one knows your body like I do. Right?”

      “Mhm, only you.” You moaned, starting to feel the tension in your lower endowment build.

      “Don’t—ah—know how that ego bastard expects me to survive here without my pretty girl.”

      Your eyes were locked on his pre-cum coated cock. If you were there right now, you’d suck the soul out of him. You couldn't help but admire the sharp v-line and defined abs that became more prominent as he moved his hands up and down.

      “Need you so bad Ichi, need your cock.” You moaned, quickening your pace. You didn’t know what true desperation was until now.

      He realized quickly at Blue Lock that even when he went to shit that there were still people around. He had so much pent up frustration but he didn’t have his sweet girls pussy to fuck it out of his system. He never even found a moment alone to release until now.

      “Gonna.. Gonna come” You cried out your movements growing more desperate and sloppy.

      “Y-yeah me too, baby. Come for me.”

      Your orgasm consumed you, and you felt the tension in your stomach dissolve. You whispered his name like a prayer as you surrendered to the sensation.

      "Shit!" he whimpered, finishing all over his hands and spilling, making a mess of himself. He wasn't accustomed to coming in situations where it wasn't already taken care of. He was so used to you swallowing or him coming inside you that he forgot to find a place to release.

      You could see how much he came, and you were shocked. That was a lot. Damn, you didn’t realize how long he’d gone without any sexual activities since you had the pleasure of fucking yourself on his bed whenever you wanted.

      He looked at your panting form, legs still spread open and your hand limp but the camera still giving him a view of your body. He smiled a little at the sight of how easily you tired yourself out, how desperate you were chasing a high that could never amount to the ones he gives you. That's when he knew.

      Forget wanting to beat Rin, he needed to come out of this program as the best striker, so he’d never have to worry about being away from you ever again. He’d become the best striker in the world and make millions enough to support him taking you wherever he wanted. The idea sounded so delicious to him in his head. This was his new goal.

[tkpuke]

23 and jayvik pretty please :3

Jayce + Viktor - 23. “Yes…I mean, no!”

author’s note: okay so the plot for this was heavily inspired by @ticklish-ghost , @home-of-the-squirmle and I’s discussion on one of their posts so why not make it into a fic okay? okay cool

It was nearing midnight, the only light shining into the lab through the curtains was the moon and its luminescent stars scattered around the sky. Viktor perched an elbow on the table, leaning his cheek on his hand while reading a book that could hold answers to have them move forward with their project. They were close, but it seemed like they were met with a dead end. Scientists don’t take those lightly, so they hungrily search for other possibilities and correct their mistakes on what went wrong.

He doesn’t have a clue on his partner’s whereabouts, but he’s not going to waste time searching for him. Usually Viktor takes the extra mile and works on projects a little more than he’s suppose to. He tends to struggle with the definition of teamwork when he’s been mostly alone his entire childhood, so he has no issue working alone while Jayce heads off for other duties or sleeps at a healthy time compared to Viktor’s sleep schedule.

It was peaceful and quiet. Viktor treasures nights like these. Until something was dropped beside him, creating a loud thunk.

“Look what I made.” A voice suddenly spoke out from behind, it belonging to Jayce which made Vitkor nearly jump a foot from his chair. “Jesus Christ—Jaycewhendidyougethere-“ He looked beside him to see what was dropped, picking it up to examine. An iron knife in the perfect size to fit in your pocket, the ends in a twisted pattern to make it look a little stylish. His face doesn’t show it, but Viktor is slightly impressed. There is no interest in him for weapons, but when it’s created so clean and perfected by Jayce himself, he can’t help but be in awe.

He then puts the knife down, finally meeting Jayce’s eyes. “Another tool that will never be used for its purpose.” Clear to say Jayce has made a couple of tools, most having the same theme: sharp and dangerous. He never uses them, as Viktor stated, but Jayce always gives the ‘you never know’ excuse. In reality the man just gets bored out of his mind at times and gets these random surges of creativity to go down and make any toys his heart desires. Who wouldn’t if they had the skill to properly do so?

Viktor’s eyes started to register that Jayce is full on shirtless right in front of him, muscles exposed and pumped to its core from all the wielding. It never really dawned on him how strong of a guy Jayce is, feeling a bit fragile and small the more he compared his own build to him. How easy it could be for Jayce to effortlessly pin him. How he could take away Viktor’s right to squirm by simply sitting on his waist. How he could be picked up with one singular arm by Jayce with zero sweat.

Jayce caught on to his more than five second stare. Viktor noticed.

He took attention to the soot covered all over Jayce’s upper body, taking that as an explanation of his longing stare. “You’re dirty. Here, sit.” Viktor nudged his head over to a nearby chair, heading over to grab a cloth that will soon be damped with water and soap. “Oh, thank you. You really don’t have to.” Jayce chuckles all flustered in appreciation by Viktor’s care, taking the seat anyway. Viktor comes back, starting to dab the cloth on his shoulders while he works his way down. “Hmph, I’ve seen you sleep before in this state. Least I can do is help you get cleaned up.”

“Hey, I get too exhausted sometimes!” Jayce replies defensively, but gives a soft smile at the end. He grabs the knife he created earlier, fingers feeling around it. “You have to admit, this one looks a bit cooler than the others I have made.” Viktor nods in somewhat agreement, now focusing on the upper chest to clean off. “You can keep it, if you want to of course.”

Viktor shakes his head, not meeting Jayce’s eyes while conversing. “There’s no need for me to have it, but thank you for your…kind offer.”

“You’re keeping it.” Jayce responds back with, putting it on top of the open book Vitkor was previously reading so he won’t forget to take it with him. The other only sighs, being aware it’s a losing battle to argue with Jayce when he’s so set on gifting someone something they’ve never asked for. It’s one of the man’s many love languages: giving gifts.

His hand started moving down more, getting near his upper ribs. A quick shift of change in Jayce’s demeanor, beginning to have trouble sitting still like before and biting down his lip hard. Viktor catches on. Of course he did when he begin to rub the cloth against his body more gently, hoping it sent a ticklish shockwave. Revenge was right in front of him from all the times Viktor was ruthlessly, in his opinion, tickled silly by Jayce who never shot down an opening opportunity to do so. Little to Jayce’s knowledge, Viktor has been seeking out opportunities himself to get back. The whole idea of touch is just a subject he awkwardly moves around in, never having someone so playful and lovingly touchy like Jayce in his life.

With the way Jayce was squirming and huffing air out of his nose to suppress the giggles forming in his throat, it fueled newfound confidence in Viktor’s actions. He took it a step further, pretending a spot of soot around Jayce’s ribs was giving him difficulty to rub off, so he pressed his fingers deeper while curling them a little.

Not expecting the firmer touch along with feeling nails through the cloth gliding around his ribs freely, a surprised gasp slips out. Small giggles came right after, instinctively grabbing ahold of Viktor’s wrist. Viktor raises a brow, feigning confusion. “Sorry, does this tickle?”

“Yes…I mean, no!” Jayce got too distracted from the ticklish grazes that the question failed to register on time for him to think of an answer that may save his dignity. Viktor nudges Jayce’s firm grip off of his wrist, and he hesitantly does so. His partner looks up, doing incredibly well on not cracking a smile to foil his true intentions. “Yes? No? Which one is it?”

Jayce finds Viktor’s calmness to a newfound discovery nerve-racking, wishing he could read his mind right then and there. This is the first time Viktor has ever tried to tickle Jayce, but the poor man truly believes it was done on accident. He’s been so use to Viktor taking his ticklish onslaughts like a champ and never immediately attacking back, or even days later. Jayce had his own assumption that Viktor would never live up fully to his playfulness and do so much as tickle him back. The guy doesn’t even complete Jayce’s friendly hugs most of the time by wrapping his own arms around him, just kind of standing there until he pulls away.

So that’s why Jayce is sitting here, staring into Viktor’s questioning eyes, not knowing exactly on how to respond. He decides to lie, feeling like there’s no use in telling the truth if Viktor won’t indulge a little more.

“Um, just a little. Felt weird mostly.” He so badly does a terrible job of convincing. He releases a quiet held back sigh, not knowing if it was out of relief or disappointment when Viktor continued on cleaning after not questioning him a bit more. Viktor created a pattern, dragging the cloth and his fingers across Jayce’s skin that wasn’t ticklish at all. Then in the middle of doing so, he would press more firmly and curl his fingers again just enough for his nails to graze.

Jayce is terrible at holding in his giggles, making weird ‘kcchh!’ noises and sometimes letting a couple out for a few seconds but in a whisper tone as if Viktor isn’t right in front of him to hear them all. “You’re giggling a lot for someone who claims to just be a little ticklish.” Viktor nonchalantly states, placing a hand on top of Jayce’s shoulder to keep him steady. Jayce was about to do another failed attempt of denying until that pattern Viktor was doing met down around his stomach.

Jayce snorts, instantly slapping a hand to cover his mouth in shock as Viktor pauses his movements. His mouth twitches upward for a split second, almost smiling from Jayce’s flushed cheeks. “Oh, so it does tickle.”

“Viktor, wait—“

“You lied to me?”

“Nononono, it’s just that—“

“No need to explain yourself, Jayce. I’ll be careful.” You’d have to be dumb to not practically hear the smile in Viktor’s tone. Both of them, and if anyone else were to be in that room, would very much know that Victor won’t be ‘careful’. Viktor kept up that god forsaken pattern again, but this time letting it tickle Jayce more frequently than it cleaning.

He observed Jayce’s reactions, testing out different areas around his stomach and what brought out a louder reaction than the other. Fingers curling to the middle of his stomach earned him a full boisterous laugh. Nearing his belly button made him receive laughs that shot an octave higher with an occasional whistle coming from the gap of his two front teeth. Cleaning over his belly button made Jayce snort again, a noise Viktor was seeking out for.

Jayce’s rambunctious laugh got Viktor stuck in a trance. How it’s so loud it can be heard from all over Piltover. Jayce’s high pitch snorts coming out only when Viktor tickles somewhere particularly more sensitive. His eyes being closed shut, a random push to Viktor’s face as if it’ll tone down the ticklish sensations. Viktor now understands Jayce completely. He doesn’t want to stop the fun and hearing the flow of his laugh, everything so mesmerizing and ridiculously childish. Viktor could do this all day. 

Two hands grab Viktor’s wrists while a leg kicked out when he dragged the cloth over his belly button again, shaking his head. “Hohold on plehehease!”

Viktor scoffed. “Stop being a baby. I’m not doing anything.” But it was clear as day everything was now being done with purpose. Hands still holding onto Viktor’s wrists, Jayce takes the granted time to catch his breath. “Hehehe…ohohokay, I am one hundred percent sure I’m clean now.”

Viktor tsked, watching him take in air like he ran a marathon. “I think you might be more ticklish than me, Jayce. Isn’t that something?” Jayce abruptly stares at him, peeved. “Ohoho, is that what you think? Let’s put it to the test then.”

Viktor is now the one grabbing at Jayce’s wrists, pushing with all his might out of reach. “No, Jayce! Stop!” Jayce manages to skitter across Viktor’s side, earning him a squeak that he’s terribly embarrassed of. Jayce relishes it.

“What are you, a mouse?” He teases, letting Viktor push his hands away so he can feel like he’s having the upper hand ever so often just to play fair. Viktor stops his attempts of fighting back, shooting a glare but meanwhile grinning. “At least I don’t snort like a pig.”

Viktor just sealed his own coffin shut. “Oh, is that how you want to play?” Jayce gets up from his spot, startling Viktor. He picks him up with ease, showing no effect of Viktor’s shoves and shouts to be put down at once. Jayce lays him down on the couch softly, a location Viktor is all too familiar with by how frequent Jayce pins him down and tickles him mercilessly whenever Viktor, in Jayce’s words, deserves it.

Jayce does not attack right away, taking the time out of pure entertainment to watch him struggle a bit as if by some miracle today is the day Viktor manages to escape Jayce’s evil clutches.

He’s already giggling. “Jahayce, I am telling you now. Do not.” He manages to sit up a bit, hoping to level with Jayce more and seem convincingly threatening when his cold glare meets his eyes.

Jayce’s hands started slowly moving downwards.

“I now know where you’re most ticklish. I promise you, I will not be gentle when my next chance comes if you dare to do this.”

A leap of excitement was felt in Jayce’s heart at those words, causing him to smile and shrug before drilling into Viktor’s hips.

“I can live with that.”

[agent-cupcake]

Amen

Pairing: Suguru Geto x f! Reader

Synopsis: No matter the severity of your actions, Suguru would never actually hurt a member of his sorcerer family. Luckily, there are other ways he can think of to punish you. It's for your own good.

Warnings: Explicit smut, dubcon, possessive behavior, manipulation

Tags: Punishment, edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, dirty talk, vibrators, bondage, orgasm torture, cunnilingus, humiliation

Word Count: 10.4k

Notes: This story is for @laurenzel. I think this can be almost seen as a companion to my previous Gojo story since there's similar toxic motives and means used by the men, but a difference in method.

“Would you care to join me tonight?” was what Geto said to you, smiling so sweetly, so gently. He said it like an offer, or a question, but you both knew the answer. It was the same as it had been since the very first time he asked, since the first time he kissed you, since the first night you spent together.

And you, finally given direction in the big, confusing world, couldn’t even conceive of saying no to Geto. You didn’t have to do, say, or think anything on your own—just follow him. And you did. Happily, you did, thinking nothing of the offer other than how pleased you were that he asked. 

Chills prickled over your bare arms and legs when you walked into his room. The air felt a few degrees too cool, especially when you were accustomed to the August heat. Everything about his room seemed cold. It was furnished in stark contrast to the simple, traditional temple façade the rest of the complex maintained outwardly. Black painted walls, a hard floor, and ebony furniture upholstered with dark leathers and suedes. There was a flat, modern utilitarianism to the room despite its luxury, all at once inviting and off putting. The silky black sheets and dusky saturation of velvety vanilla and citrus lent a sex appeal to the room that you inextricably associated with Geto.

“Will you help me with this?” he asked, gesturing to his clothes. 

“Yes, of course,” you said, rushing to his side to help him undress. Even though the vestments Geto wore were for show, the articles were genuine and required careful handling. A perfect costume needed to be authentic. You unfastened the kasaya first, hanging it up. 

“I think,” he said while your hands were busy, “we need to talk about what you did.” 

You paused, turning to him with your brow furrowed, your stomach dropping in response to the accusatory tone of his voice. “What did I do?” 

“You killed Kurokawa.” 

Your frown deepened, your chest tightening with a harsh burst of guilt. “How do you know that?” 

Geto raised an eyebrow. That was the wrong thing to ask, it made you look more guilty than you were. Besides, the answer was obvious. He knew everything. You shook your head fast, trying to come up with an explanation that didn’t sound like an excuse. 

 “I… I thought you would be happy I took care of him,” you said. “He was causing trouble. He was a bad man.” 

“If you thought I would be pleased, why didn’t you tell me right away?” 

There were reasons, weren’t there? Good ones, explanations that could help you smooth this over. Beneath the weight of his gaze, you couldn’t think of any of them. “I… I don’t, um…  I was going to, but I didn’t want to distract you or anything. I’m not… I didn’t mean-”

“No. You didn’t tell me because you knew you were wrong,” Geto stated, telling you so directly that you couldn’t help but believe it.  

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. 

“To be clear, I’m not concerned with his death,” Geto told you. “I’m worried about you. About what you might do without my intervention. I have been for a while.”  

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” you said. That was probably the most true thing you could say, the sentiment that defined your existence. You did not understand. 

“I like to think that you’ve grown since you joined the family, but sometimes I don’t know if I can trust you to act with a clear head. Kurokawa was a doctor, wasn’t he?” 

You bristled at the reminder, mentally pushing back on the idea that you did it for such a personal reason. “He was… he was dangerous,” you argued. “He wanted to get the police involved.” 

“That isn’t my point,” Geto explained. “You acted out on your own. I knew Kurokawa was causing problems, but I didn't ask you to kill him. He still had value to me, in his own way." He paused, considering you with pursed lips. "If you told me what you did immediately, maybe I wouldn’t jump to conclusions, but as it is, all this proves is that you haven’t moved beyond your past experiences. I can’t trust you."

You bit your lip, swaying back as if those words had been a physical blow, only becoming more confused. Completely and utterly confused about how killing somebody who was a bad man, killing a hateful monkey upset Geto. You did it for him. You did it because the man was evil, and because he said terrible things, and because he was a hideous embodiment of the type of person who would see you locked up tight in another drug dispensing, mind-numbing, monkey hospital. 

All you could understand was that you had disappointed Geto, and the cutting violence of his doubt cut deep into your chest as physically as a knife. 

“I’m sorry,” you said again.

“Are you going to finish this?” Geto asked rather than acknowledge your apology, pulling at his collar. You nodded, rushing back to his side to untie the obi sash and fold it, helping him shrug off his black yukata to hang that up as well.

Left in a tight undershirt, a pair of loose pants, and socks he was quick to peel off and toss aside, Geto-sama emerged from his costume looking a decade younger and twice as dangerous. Like this, he was Suguru. You weren’t equals, but you were more than a little familiar. Although, you weren’t sure if you would dare to be so friendly with him now that you understood you were in trouble.

Before, you assumed you were here because he desired you. Now that felt presumptuous and silly.   

You averted your eyes and stepped back, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The silence physically hurt. Apologies built up like a dam in your head, stopping any other sort of thought from getting through as guilt brewed and boiled in your stomach. Worse, you couldn’t say he was wrong. Maybe you had knowingly acted against Geto, against the family, because of what Kurokawa represented to you. Maybe you couldn’t be trusted. And, if that was true, maybe you deserved his anger and all of the terrible things that followed anger.     

“Are you nervous?” Suguru asked. 

“No,” you said quickly. 

“Liar. I can hear it. Your heart is racing. You’re scared. Is it me?” He nudged your chin up with the side of his hand, forcing you to meet his eyes and the little smile he wore. “Are you frightened of me?” 

“You’re angry,” you said, shrinking back. “Angry with me.”

“Oh,” Suguru hummed thoughtfully, “so you’re scared that I’m going to punish you. Is that it?” 

Hesitantly, you nodded. 

“You’re right, I am.” 

Your breath caught before you shook your head fast, panicking. “No, you… I’m really sorry. I mean it, I was just trying to… He deserved to die.”

“I understand,” Suguru said, “and I appreciate what you say you were trying to do. The problem is that I don’t believe that was your motive. That is why I’m upset.” He ran his fingers through his hair, putting into a messy bun. “Do you understand the distinction?”

You blinked fast, feeling the horrible bite of tears stinging the corners of your eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now… what do you think would be a fitting punishment?” 

You looked up at him in stark shock, hoping desperately that you misunderstood him. He didn’t clarify anything, simply waiting for you to answer. You shook your head again, your mouth opening and closing before you managed a meek, “I don’t know.” 

“But you agree, don’t you?” he asked, going over to his chest of drawers. Suguru looked at you over his shoulder, eying you up and down, drinking your awkward nerves. “You deserve to be punished for your disobedience.”

You exhaled sharply, conflicted about what kind of answer to give. More importantly, what kind of answer he wanted. If you were smarter, you would be able to talk your way out of this situation. If you were better attuned to Suguru’s needs, you would be able to give him what he wanted. If you were loyal, he wouldn’t have been mad in the first place. Those thoughts weren’t helpful, all you could do was stare and try to solve the puzzle of his mood. You had seen that little smirk on his face when he teased Nanako, but also when he killed non-jujutsu sorcerers that had outlived their usefulness. 

“You’re really asking me?” you finally got out, the only response you could muster.

His back was turned to you now as he looked through the drawer, but you saw his shoulder raise in a casual shrug. “I’m curious.” 

 Your gut instinct was to deny that you deserved punishment to try and spare yourself, but you held that impulse. You had already agreed that you did something wrong, so denying that you deserved punishment could make things worse. Then again, if you agreed, then maybe he would take that as permission to do even worse. Either one could potentially upset him too, because it would prove that you didn’t know what he wanted. Suguru did nothing to alleviate your nervous indecision as he turned around, holding an unmarked red box, watching you with that enigmatic smirk.

“If you think I do,” you said carefully, “then-”

“No,” he said, cutting you off. “I am asking if you acknowledge that you deserve punishment for what you have done.”

“I won’t do it again,” you told him, your voice soft. “I promise.” 

Suguru frowned. “That’s not what I asked.”

“I know, but it’s true,” you insisted. Rather than relent to your distress, his eyes narrowed dangerously, finally giving you some indication about the response he actually wanted. “I do!” You said quickly. “I…” The words were thick like syrup, awkward to get out. “I deserve to be punished.” 

Suguru smiled, setting the box on the bed and sitting on the black leather footboard bench, his legs spread wide and comfortable and head slightly tilted.  

“Are you going to hurt me?” you asked softly.

“Hurt you?” Suguru asked, raising a thin eyebrow. “I would never hurt you. I don’t think you’re likely to learn from pain anyway, hm? It wasn’t effective for your parents or doctors.”

“But… but you said you were going to punish me?” you asked, looking between him and the box with an increasing amount of anxiety. 

“Take off your clothes.”

Your jaw dropped. “I… My… You mean it?” 

He raised both eyebrows, daring you to deny him. You clutched at the front of your dress, your shoulders curling in. 

“But why?” you asked. He immediately gave you a pointed look, like you were stupid. “This… it’s… You want to…?” You couldn’t even finish the question, the whole thing was so divorced from any coherence you could wrap your head around. 

“You're allowed to say no and leave, I won’t stop you,” Suguru told you. He considered that for a moment, his head falling to the side. “If you stay, we’ll switch to your safe word rather than no. You remember it, don’t you?”

Safe word? You remembered him establishing that the first night he allowed you into his bed, but you hadn’t really thought much of it. Why would you ever want him to stop? Now the thought of it made you feel a little cold, and not because of the air conditioner valiantly chugging away in an attempt to keep the August heat at bay. It had taken a few days to come to terms with sleeping with Suguru after it first happened, but this was unreal in an entirely different way. You felt like you were looking down a very long, dark tunnel, like you were hopelessly and utterly lost.   

“I do,” you said faintly. “I remember.” 

“It’s your choice then.” 

You winced, unable to look at him. You weren’t going to leave. That was unthinkable. The idea of undressing in front of him like it was some sort of show wasn’t especially comfortable either, but you understood that you would do it. “That’s… it’s embarrassing.”

“I’ve noticed,” Suguru said. “You don’t want to think of yourself as the type of woman who would strip for a man. But you are, and you will. For me.”

You flushed darker, avoiding his eyes. Trying to keep your breathing from going completely out of control, you nodded. It was easier to obey. You wouldn’t know what you would do if you left his room right now, where you would go, how you would feel. It wasn’t about you, it was about what you had done to disappoint Suguru, and how you would make it right. He wanted to know that you were loyal, that you had left behind the pathetic wretch you used to be. 

Humiliating as it was, he was helping you. That was all he had ever done. 

“Yes, sir.” 

With shaking hands, you unzipped your dress. Considering the summer heat, you were wearing as little as possible. Three articles of clothing separating you from his eyes. You weren’t sure if that was better, making it so the process of undressing wasn’t so drawn out, or worse because it meant you couldn’t stall. 

“Keep going,” Suguru said when you hesitated with your thumbs hooked beneath the waistband of your panties. Closing your eyes, you pushed them down. The only positive you could think of was that you had the foresight to shave the night before. Ever since the first night you slept together you’d been taking personal grooming extremely seriously. Removing your bra was the worst of it all, but you dutifully undid the clasps and pushed the straps down your arms. He had seen you naked before, you reasoned. Even if you were disappointing, he still had asked to see you. It was fine. 

If Suguru wanted it, it was fine.

“You’re too pretty to be so self-conscious,” he told you in a very calm, matter-of-fact way. 

You tried not to shuffle awkwardly, clasping your hands in front of your stomach to hide their shaking. “Thank you,” you said softly, unable to meet his eyes even if you could feel them heavily on your flushing skin. 

“Come here,” Suguru ordered. In your peripheral, you saw his hand raise, a single finger curling to draw you towards him. 

You obeyed on awkward feet, glad to close the distance. He sat up to meet you face to face, having to look up at you for once and pulling you closer. You automatically parted your lips to kiss him. That was something you knew how to do. But his parted lips only brushed the corner of your mouth. When you tried to tilt your head to catch him, Suguru pulled back. Your eyes fluttered open—when had you closed them?—to see him smirking at the little trick. 

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, releasing you.

Nerves knotted and tangled in your stomach. There was something hot about his detached control, but you weren’t sure you liked it either. Vulnerability was discomfort. And still, you knew better than to argue or question. Trying to preserve as much of your modesty as was possible, you got onto his bed. It was easier to comply. Better to be obedient like he wanted. You didn’t want to disappoint him again. 

“These are for you,” Suguru said, finally revealing the contents of the red box by lifting the glossy lid. 

You stared into the box with curiosity, and then with a sharp pang of recognition. After that, nerves. Dread. Excitement. Blinking over and over didn’t change what you saw, there was no mistake about what lay inside. A lot of leather. Some chains. Scarf-like ties. You were pretty sure the wand-shaped item was a vibrator. 

Suguru choked you last time you had sex, and he pinned your wrists down and pulled your hair and left marks on your thighs and chest, but this was different. Dangerous. This was scary. 

“Geto-sama…” you said nervously, sticking to the formal address in the hopes that he would understand the sincerity of your doubt. “I’m not…”

“As I said, you’re allowed to stop this at any time,” he said, dropping the lid back onto the box with a crisp snap. “I would never force you into anything. If you truly feel bad for what you have done and want to prove yourself to me, I shouldn’t need to coerce you.”

Guilt and nerves writhed in your stomach. And excitement, always excitement for the simple reason that it was Suguru. You would do anything for him, wouldn’t you? He had saved you. You disappointed him, it was only right that you did as you were told. You pushed the lid off again, forcing a sort of resolve. Your heart beat like a frantic war drum in your chest, and you were flushing so hotly it felt like a fever. 

“What’s this all for?” you asked, your voice hoarse. 

“You won’t be able to hold still on your own,” he replied simply. “Besides, I think you’ll look sexy like this. I was waiting for an opportunity to try it.” 

The bottom of your stomach gave way to anxious lust. You licked your lips, trying to calm yourself down. 

“Okay,” you said softly. 

“Put them on for me,” Suguru said, pulling out four of the leather cuffs. Your eyes widened, your lips parting to argue that as a step too far. It would be so much easier for you if he did it himself, if you didn’t have to actively engage with putting yourself in a literal bind. 

Although maybe that was the point. This was punishment. 

Prove your loyalty. You could do that for him. 

Despite your forced mental affirmation, the whole task seemed too daunting for a moment, you had a nervously suffocating sense like drowning, but you forced that down. You would do anything for Suguru. That’s what this was about. Proving to him that you were loyal, that you would do as he said. That you were devoted.  

You did the wrist cuffs first, slipping the first over your left hand and tightening the strap with your right. There was only one size; they would fit snugly. Thick chains hung from both cuffs. Although they weren’t as bad as pure metal bracelets, the leather wouldn’t be kind to your skin if you resisted too much. Tightening the strap on the right cuff was even worse since you were working with your non-dominant hand. 

“Do you need help?” Suguru asked, laughing at your frustrated attempts to get the tongue through the buckle. 

“Don’t laugh, please,” you begged, talking very softly to hide your increasingly unstable emotions. “I’m trying.” 

“Here,” he said indulgently, “let me.” Suguru held out his hands for you to let him finish securing the cuff. “Do you need help with your ankles?”

“No, I… Thank you,” you said, unable to look at his expression. You could do this. You had to do this. 

Still, your hands trembled unsteadily. When you nervously fumbled with the leather strap around your ankle, he laughed again. 

“Don’t look,” you mumbled. The chains hanging from your wrists playfully clinked against the chains on your ankles.  

“I have to make sure you do it properly. You could hurt yourself.”

“It’s embarrassing,” you whispered, more petulant than anything.  

“I know,” Suguru told you sweetly, “but you’ve been such a good girl so far.” 

Your breath caught at the praise. At the very least, he looked away to pull off his shirt. You used the distraction to get your ankles secured, watching him remove his pants with your hands between your legs to retain some modesty. Suguru, stripped to his boxers, surveyed your handiwork, a little smile growing on his face.

“What?” you asked nervously. 

“Given how shy you are, I thought it would take more than this to convince you to do this for me. I don’t know if I’m disappointed or impressed.”

You frowned with a twisting sense of betrayal, but he cut off your displeasure by grabbing your legs to yank you towards him, leaning over the bed so he could kiss you.  

Before Suguru, you hadn’t really understood what the point of kissing was. It was an act of affection you mirrored with others because it was what people did. When Suguru licked your lips open for himself, you understood. Any touch of his body against yours had a potent effect, but the openly intimate domination of his tongue against yours, his fingers slipping up your hair to tilt your head, the hand on your bare waist, it was enough to clear your mind all over again. Igniting the purest type of motivation—lust. 

You wanted to show him your devotion. You wanted him to know you were sorry. You clung to his shoulders, hoping he could feel it.

All too soon, Suguru pulled back, his lips hovering inches from your own. You tried to follow, but he held you in place by your hair. 

“I’m impressed,” he said, answering his comment from before. “I admire your dedication. I only wish it extended to your actions. I can’t trust you until I know you obey me.”

“I do,” you said. “I…I will.” 

“Not yet.” Suguru didn’t wait for your response, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips, your cheek, and then tilting your head to whisper in your ear. “Move back. I’ll take care of the rest,” he told you, his husky voice making you shudder.

“Yes, sir,” you muttered so softly you wondered if he heard you. When Suguru pulled away, you scooted back to sit in the center of his bed, waiting and watching with equal parts nerves and anticipation. He picked through the red box again, pulling out another set of leather cuffs and a bundle of those silky scarves. 

“Open your legs,” he ordered in a business-like voice as he joined you on the bed, crawling up to you and readying one of the leather straps. The sudden shift of tone surprised you, throwing you off all over again. 

“What’s that?” you asked nervously. He gave you a sharp look and you relented, opening your legs. Being exposed so brazenly made your skin crawl, but he paid no attention to your naked body, wrapping the strap around your thigh and fastening it, repeating the process on your other leg. 

“What is it that the monkey said to upset you?” Suguru asked casually as he tested the straps for give, deeming them satisfactory. The conversational tone burst your bubble of rose tinged intimacy, sending your thoughts back to unpleasant places. “I assume something set you off.” 

“I… um…” As if revealing a magic trick, he unwound a length of the red scarf-like fabric, distracting you from a question you hadn’t really understood in the first place.

“Or did he try to attack you?” Suguru pushed, neatly doubling the scarf and pulling it around your back. He had to sit close as he blindly tied the knot and the cashmeran twilight scent of his skin filled your senses, you held your breath when he pulled away just to keep it close for a moment longer. 

“Have you done this before?” you asked as he wound the scarf around your chest and shoulders with a practiced hand, searching for a distraction from the embarrassment. 

“Does it bother you if I have?” Suguru asked. 

“No, sir.” 

He had to lean forward again to fasten the final knot on your back. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said softly. “What happened?” 

You winced. “He called me delusional. He said I’m just a… a bitch in your harem, and that I’d go down with you.” 

“I see,” Suguru said, pulling back, his expression impassive. 

“I’m really sorry, Geto-sama,” you said. 

“Are you worried he’s right?” Suguru asked, his voice so saccharinely sweet it had to be mocking. 

“I don’t… I don’t know.” 

“You are special to me,” Suguru told you sweetly, petting your hair. 

“You’re special to me too,” you said, eager to try and express your adoration. “Very, very special.” 

“I’m doing this because you’re so special to me. I can help you grow, and help you move on. I can show you the benefits of an honest life without the petty influence of the weak, but I cannot force your obedience. I need you to choose to listen to me, to obey me.”

“That is my choice,” you said. 

“Haven’t you heard the phrase ‘actions speak louder than words’?” Suguru countered, revealing the final trick of his little magic show. The chains on your wrists connected to those on your ankles with a few inches of slack, your ankle cuffs connected to the straps on your thighs, and the loose ends of scarves from the harness he had just finished tying were threaded into the D-rings on your thigh straps. Unable to balance upright, you rolled onto your back, fully exposed and unable to do much of anything about it. “This is your chance to make amends.” 

Suguru put his hand on your bare chest, right above your racing heart as it beat against your ribs. “You’re scared again,” he said. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. Do you not believe that?” 

“I’m just…” you squirmed uncomfortably, unable to articulate what you felt. You didn’t know what you felt, couldn’t figure out anything beyond the intensely physical embarrassment and the panicked disquiet of being bound and exposed.  

“You know what to do to make this stop,” he pointed out, his hand dragging down your chest to your flinching stomach. “Just say the word, and I’ll let you leave.”

Suguru told you that almost like it was a joke. He was daring you to use the safe word and stop him, to show him that you weren’t as devoted as you claimed. His hand reached your pelvis and you whimpered, your hips wiggling in an undecided way. Did you want him to touch you, or were you nervous for that part? You couldn’t tell. The feelings were the same. 

He finally dropped over you, both of his hands resting on your ass before brushing up your thighs, pressing them further apart as he kissed you with an open mouth. Suguru’s tongue urgently met yours, teasing enough to invite your active and enthusiastic participation. To show him how much you wanted him. Of course you did. 

With a surprising bite on your lower lip, Suguru left your mouth to move down, licking and kissing his way across your jaw, following the line of your neck. He stopped there, sucking hard right above your pulse until you shuddered hard, making a soft, helpless noise. Your hands anxiously jerked, but all that did was snap the chains taut. Taking his time, his hand trailed down your thigh, his fingernails scraping the skin, until he reached your pussy. 

When Suguru’s fingers made contact with the sensitive flesh, you yelped, and he bit your neck hard enough to draw that yelp out into a pathetic keen. Your attempt to free your hands so you could push him back served only to pull your legs open wider. 

“Was that too much?” Suguru asked, lightly tracing your slit. 

“Hurts,” you said, your breathing hard and fast. He chuckled warmly, finding your clit and tracing little circles over it, just teasing. You whimpered. 

“You don’t mind, do you?” He asked, his lips brushing your skin as he moved down your chest. 

You made a choked, conflicted sound in your throat, any coherent response leaving your head the second his mouth closed around your nipple. Electric pulses of pleasure zipped down to your core, made that much more intense by the fingers on your clit. Suguru added more pressure against it, the weight sweetened by the friction of his calloused fingertips. Your hips rolled into the touch, your back arching for every delicious movement of his tongue or teeth on your nipple. 

A hoarse wail left your mouth when he released you with a wet pop, moving to do the same to your other nipple. His fingers were truly grinding against your clit at this point. It wasn’t the sweet enticement of pleasure, but a brute force motion that guaranteed you would come fast. 

You whined and moaned and shuddered, fighting the restraints. Sweat slicked up your skin, chafing beneath the restraints as you jerked, your body going taut to prepare for the sudden orgasm. You managed a choked, “I can’t, I can’t, I-” And then that tension snapped. It was good, but the rush was too fast and fleeting, fizzling itself out before you could savor the feeling. All it really did was make you want more.

With another lewdly wet pop, Suguru pulled off your nipple and sat up, his hand retreating from between your legs. “How did that feel?” he asked.

You swallowed, nodding fast. “‘s good. Tha-aa-nk you, sir.” 

“It’s interesting to me how much more sensitive girls are after coming,” Suguru said, teasing you with his fingers lightly tracing over your slit. “It’s almost obscene. Men need time, but you already want more, don’t you?” 

You shuddered, panting and flushed. “Yes. Yes, please.”

He smirked, although you couldn’t say you really understood the joke. Your entire body twitched, the chains clinking, and he licked his lips, looking at your flushed body like he was eying up a meal. 

Your eyes squeezed shut when he ran two fingers from your entrance, dragging a smear of slick arousal up to your clit. 

“No, don’t close your eyes,” Suguru said, beginning to draw patterns over your swelling clit. “Look at me.” 

You nodded, opening your eyes and meeting his gaze despite how overwhelming it was to be watched while he touched you so intimately. You squirmed, inhaling sharply through your teeth, already feeling the tantalizing build. 

“What about you?” you asked. “You don’t have to, um… um…” Blinking fast, breathing hard, your words scattered like dust and you felt the same tightening in your core, the sparkling promise of release. At the exact moment you were about to come again, Suguru pressed his hand flat between your legs, denying you that final push over the edge. 

Whining and desperate and so, so close, your hips bucked upward, desperate to come again. It was already too late, out of your grasp. “Geto-sama, please, I was-”

“No,” he said simply. 

“What?” 

“No. I’m not going to let you come again. I’ve already given you one more than you deserve.”

“No,” you whispered, horrified. “You… You can’t.” 

“No?” he repeated, his fingers tracing your clit slowly, with the barest amount of pressure. “You remember why I’m doing this, don’t you? I’m punishing you.” He pressed more intently against your clit. Unable to comprehend denial, your body began the process of drawing up tight. “You need to learn to be obedient. You have to learn to take whatever I see fit to give you.” 

“I am,” you gasped out. “I do, I-I will, I’m…” Your back arched, your arms and legs falling aside as if to make an offering of your body in the hopes that he would let you come this time. “I’m sorry that I… that I did that,” you babbled, your pussy tightening around nothing as your body got ready to come. “I’m really… really… I’m-” 

Suguru stopped just when you were on the precipice again, tapping your folds as if to mock your need. You squinted at him, your chest hitching a heavy breath, tears pricking your eyes. “But I said… Oh…” You didn’t finish what you were saying, too distracted by the slick slide of his fingers inside of you. So good. You swallowed hard, your cunt squeezing his fingers desperately as his fingers curled, dragging against your g-spot as they pulled out before thrusting forward. 

“If your words meant anything, you wouldn’t need to be punished in the first place,” Suguru pointed out, although you weren’t paying very close attention, your body awkwardly trying to roll into his fingers as they slowly fucked you. He touched your clit with his other hand, once again ensuring that you would come quickly. 

Too quickly, really. The intensity of pleasure shocked you, especially since you were so sensitive, desperate for more. “Please, can I… will you please… Please?” you begged, your animal need curbed slightly by fear. 

“You should know that no other man will do this for you,” Suguru said. “No one else will ever care for you the way I do.”

You nodded fast, knowing that was the truth. No other person in the world had ever been as kind or compassionate to you as Suguru. Nobody had ever wanted you, or made you feel important, or given you purpose. You loved him. You felt that affection swell alongside your building orgasm. 

He would let you come this time, he wasn’t slowing down. His fingers made a sickening wet schlick as they pumped in and out of your pussy, working in time with the finger on your clit. You were there, your body taut and ready and desperate and-

A wail escaped you when he stopped at the last moment, your entire body jerking in desperation to reclaim your ruined orgasm. As soon as it was gone, he returned to touching you in the same way, vigorously chasing you back to the edge and abandoning you seconds before you could get off. 

“Please,” you begged.

“I told you no,” Suguru reminded you, adding a third finger to pump and curl into your pussy as if to punctuate the cruel statement. You were off the edge now, but your body still stupidly strove to take more pleasure. You blinked tears, confused and needy and trembling, your breathing shallow. 

“Why?” 

He didn’t answer, he didn’t need to. The touch on your clit had you throwing your head back, your nostrils flared and teeth clenched. Chains clicked together when you tried to free your arms, but it was a fruitless struggle. You didn’t want to respond to his touch in the same way, you needed a reprieve, but there was no escape. You were sensitive. Your body remembered coming once, and that was enough of an incentive to try to get more. 

“You can always stop me,” Suguru said. “If it becomes too much.”

“It’s…” you told him, although your attempt to seem brave was weakened by your breathy, pathetic voice. “I’m… I can take whatever you give me. I’m…” You sobbed, overwhelmed by the drag of his fingers against your g-spot. He barely had to put any pressure on your clit, it was so swollen beneath his teasing fingers. “Please, sir. I just… Just one, please?”

“I already let you come once,” he reminded you, amused. 

You moaned miserably, your head tossing back and forth as you readied yourself for another orgasm. You hoped that maybe if you could just come before he noticed, then that would be enough to soothe the horrible ache, the fearful deprivation he kept stoking to a blaze. 

It was there, right at your fingertips, on the tip of your tongue, and Suguru hummed happily when he suddenly pulled his fingers out of you. You shouted, thrashing against your bindings. They all held, keeping you helpless beneath him. 

“Please, I… please.” 

“No,” Suguru said, slowly pushing just one finger into you. You sobbed when he used it to massage your g-spot. Not giving you any real pressure or weight or friction, just that constant reminder of the pleasure you had been denied.

“I can’t,” you said tearfully, straining to get more out of that single finger like a starving woman being thrown crumbs. 

“You can,” Suguru told you. His word was gospel. It didn’t matter what you thought. 

He pulled his finger out before you could get too used to it, only to return with three. You choked, your body jerking hard enough against the restraints to hurt, suddenly thrown into high gear as he properly finger-fucked you, bouncing your entire body. 

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t touching your clit, you could get off just on this. Your body was thrumming with denied pleasure and you wanted it so bad you could scream. 

“Yes, yes, please, yes—No!” 

You were properly sobbing this time when he stopped, almost horrified by the intensity of your body���s disappointment when his fingers pulled out. You had no idea how he was getting the timing so perfect, but it was worse than if he was just hurting you. Suguru shoved his fingers into your open mouth while you were still reeling, smearing the taste of your pussy onto your tongue. You didn’t need his instruction to suck on them, hoping that the display of thoughtless obedience would earn you some leniency.   

“Good girl,” he cooed, pushing his fingers deeper into your mouth, almost enough to make you choke. When he pulled them out, he didn’t linger, kissing a line down your stomach. Your arms fought the restraints when you realized his intentions because you weren’t sure you could handle feeling his mouth on you like this, not if he was going to keep denying you. 

“No,” you whined. “Please, I… I can’t…” 

“Yes, you can,” Suguru said calmly, not even bothering to look up at you.

A heavy, almost guttural moan left your mouth when his tongue licked past your folds, tossing you right back into the abyss of lustful need. All he had to do was brace his forearm across the backs of your thighs and you were unable to do anything, your trapped arms and legs twitching, your feet kicking uselessly into the empty air, the chains connecting them to your wrists clicking. 

Suguru was good at this, switching between flat-tongued licks and pointed patterns, closing his lips around your clit until you were choking out these pathetic little chirps, your body reacting in a way entirely out of your control. 

And when you were there, right at the very edge, he pressed a kiss to your clit and looked up at you from beneath his dark eyelashes. 

You sobbed, throwing your head back in a childish display of disappointment. 

“You’re alright. Breathe,” Suguru said.

“Please,” you begged.

Suguru hummed as he lowered his head, shaking it side to side with his tongue flat against your clit. Your toes curled, your hands forming pathetic fists.  

It didn’t take much to build you up all over again, your entire body was wired and ready. You didn’t think you had ever felt so aware of yourself. Your skin, your pussy, your heart, your body, everything crackled and blazed. What was he doing, drawing kanji with his tongue? You didn’t know, but it felt amazing. You chased that feeling knowing you shouldn’t, thinking that maybe this time, maybe if you were fast enough. Maybe, maybe, maybe-

“No, please, I just wanna…” Suguru’s tongue stilled and he pulled away, watching you fall apart at yet another denied orgasm. “No!”

He casually pressed two fingers into you, massaging them against that spongy spot with a wet squish that was beyond obscene. “You know what to say to make me stop,” he told you.

“I know,” you said, wishing you could cover your face, wishing for some point of sanity here in this lust-mad haze. “I don’t want… Please, Geto-sama, I just wanna come, please.”

“Oh?” he said, his other hand returning to rest on your pelvic bone to playfully tease your clit. “Do you think you deserve that?” 

“I…” You tried desperately to figure out the correct answer by looking at his expression, but you couldn’t tell and his hands kept you distracted. Deserve didn’t matter, all you could think was that you wanted to come. “Yes?” you said, hoping very much that was the correct response, practically praying for the torment to end. His fingers slowed and you let out an embarrassing little keen. “Ah… No, no I…” His expression still didn’t change, leaving you scrambling. Your chest hiccupped with a sob, your confused spiral boiling down to the pit of desperate need. “I don’t know.”  

Rather than respond, Suguru’s head lowered between your legs once more to tongue your clit in time with his fingers. You felt a hot rush of hope that you got something right, that he was finally going to let you come. Your entire body surged towards the feeling, going so stiff that it made your trembling muscles ache. 

And there, right on the edge, he stopped. You didn’t have it within you to do anything other than cry, openly weeping at this point. If he were only teasing you it would be one thing, but he was purposefully working you right up to the edge and then abandoning you there. It was the feeling of being unable to sneeze amplified to a million, that torturous feeling of almost.  

“I’ll do anything, please,” you told him, your voice coming out broken.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t before?” Suguru asked. You opened your mouth to argue, only to realize that it didn’t matter. Nothing you said or did mattered, you were helpless to him. You had already surrendered everything else, the only thing you could do was obey and hope for his mercy.  

You understood. He didn’t want you to beg. He wanted you to obey. To be good for him without question. 

You could do that. 

Suguru pushed his fingers back into you, repeating the whole process of working you up and abandoning you again. And again. And then he added his mouth. There were several times in your life you’d been pushed to the absolute brink of sanity, and right then you were convinced that you were going to go mad. But you grit your teeth and endured it. You had to. This was your punishment, and Suguru would decide when to end your misery. 

You had to be good for him.  

Had you ever been this wet? Swollen too, all of your blood flowing dangerously hot between your legs. It was disgusting, your pussy was sloppy and red and he barely had to touch your clit at all to build you right up to that edge. And it was just as easy to let you fall, disappointed and unfulfilled and growing increasingly, painfully distraught from the denial. 

You beat your fists pathetically against the bed, hitting your head into the pillow like a madman. Air puffed out of your chest fast and hard enough to make your head spin, like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. 

Rather than continue the torture, Suguru grabbed your chin, dragging you out of your spiraling haze. His fingers were slick from being inside of you. You met his eyes through a veil of tears. “Have you had enough?” he asked, his voice wavering with a parody of pity. “I’m worried you’re going to hyperventilate.” 

You blinked fast, trying to gather the coherence to respond. “I can… I can take it,” you told him with a miserable sort of resolve, your voice thin and breathless. 

Suguru smiled. “Really? And if I said I intended to leave you like this, perhaps to go find a way to fix the mess you made?” 

The thought was enough to make you sob. His attention was torturously uncomfortable, but being completely denied any resolution, being left bound and soaking wet and electrified with unfulfilled need, you almost would have rathered he hit you. 

But you nodded, forcing yourself to accept it. Anything less would be to reject his authority over you, right? It would make you seem less loyal. “Anything,” you whispered.

“Ah, that look in your eyes is wonderful,” he cooed. “You mean it, don’t you?” 

You nodded insistently. “I love you,” you told him, speaking without thought, saying it because it was true. “I’ll do… I’ll do anything.”

“Okay, I’ll let you come,” Suguru said, releasing your face so his hand could wander back down between your legs. 

You made a weak noise, your body unconsciously jerking, straining towards him. 

It was pathetic, he barely had to do anything, simply brushing his flat fingers in light circles over your swollen clit. And that was enough. Fear flooded your insides alongside the same frantic, hot rush of pleasure. All of your muscles contracted in a mass of sore, shaking muscles and bestial desperation because you were afraid he would stop again, afraid that he would deny you and there would be no recourse other than pathetic acceptance.

“Please, please, I-I love you,” you plead, your voice whispery, rough and desperate, borderline incoherent.

And he didn’t stop. 

That wet, hot snap of release was one of the best things you had ever felt. You convulsed, chains clicking and leather chafing against your skin and his name spilling from your lips over and over. He worked you right through the orgasm. You were crying again, sobbing and shaking and sticky hot. It felt good. It felt like forgiveness. 

“Another?” Suguru asked. Your eyes had been shut, but now they opened to see his smile.

You just shook your head, lacking the capacity to respond. 

He didn’t wait, pushing three fingers into you while teasing your clit with his other hand. It forced your body through a surprisingly uncomfortable rubbery mixture of overstimulation and mindless need. It left you feeling like an elastic band being stretched and stretched. In spite of that feeling, a few solid, harsh pumps later and you were coming again, your pussy squeezing his fingers to keep them there while he worked you through it. There was very little drama to it, you were already wrung out. But it was good. Hot and wet and good. 

Suguru didn’t stop. You fought the restraints, wanting to move, to writhe, to get more comfortable, to take some control back because you needed a moment to collect yourself. 

“I really-” It was hard to speak. Hard to form the words. Hard to get them out. “Oh God, I—ah.”

Almost painfully sensitive, the rough pounding of his fingers against your g-spot started to register as too much. You fought the restraints, a different sort of panic setting in. To keep your body from rejecting the pleasure of his touch, Suguru doubled down against your clit, pressing a little harder. You had been starving, but now you were splitting full from the assault pleasure. 

“Too—oo much,” you got out through your teeth, although it probably didn’t seem like it was too much when your back was arching accordingly, your pussy clamping down around his relentless fingers, that coiling buildup of release reaching its apex. 

Your mouth opened in a silent scream, your fingers and toes clawing helplessly at the sheets as you came, practically choking on the hot feverish intensity of your orgasm. 

“No, it’s not,” Suguru told you. His fingers slowed at least, and then pulled out. It wasn’t much of a reprieve, he immediately shuffled down the bed so he could situate his head back between your thighs. 

You hissed, tensing up, your arms jerking against the restraints. Your clit was too sensitive for his tongue, he had to understand that. “You… You don’t… Have to,” you got out, your voice unsteady from how hard you were panting. “I don’t need-” 

“Don’t worry,” Suguru said sweetly. “I’m not doing this for you.”

The wet, warm patterns he drew on your clit with his tongue sent you into a sort of delirium. No matter how sensitive you thought you were, it was intoxicatingly good. He focused entirely on what made your hips try to jump, what made you moan and whine. When he slipped two fingers into your pussy at the same time, you felt ready to lose it entirely. You were falling apart. Splitting at the seams. You came with a harsh cry, Weeping at the fizzling heat of pleasure. 

Suguru didn’t stop. He just hummed and flattened his tongue and kept going, forcing you right past that sickening few seconds of sensory rejection and towards another orgasm. You could do it. You focused on that because even if you weren’t entirely sure you wanted more, you wanted to be good for him. How ungrateful would it be to not come when he was kind enough to eat you out? 

Covered in the sickly shine of sweat and shaking so uncontrollably that it felt like the world itself was trembling, you came again.  

When he was content you were done, Suguru stopped, pulling his fingers out with a final brush against your g-spot to make you whine, your body mindlessly writhing. He sat up, brushing back strands of sweaty black hair with the back of his hand. 

You wilted in place, closing your eyes to focus on your breathing while he messed with something else. It was hard to collect yourself, but you could already tell that you would be sore tomorrow. 

Hearing the shift of fabric, you opened your eyes to see Suguru remove his boxers. Despite your messily deteriorated state, the sight of his cock roused enough of your mind to focus. He was hard, the red-flushed head bobbed as he casually stroked himself which might have been for your benefit. Despite the sensory overload, your pussy tightened in anticipation of feeling him inside of you. If he fucked you and you did good enough to make him come, then you would be done. That was, at the very least, an end goal. One more thing you could endure for him, and then he would forgive you. 

Suguru looked down at you with a fond smile, an expression that seemed more than a little cruel when he was stroking his dick, when he knew fully well that you were painfully oversensitive and this would make it that much worse. 

“Should I make you beg?” he asked warmly, tapping the head against your painfully sensitive folds. You whimpered, squirming. You weren’t entirely sure you wanted this, and he probably knew that, but maybe that was the point. It didn’t matter, you wanted him, you wanted to be good for him, and that superseded every other thing you felt. 

“Please, Geto-sama,” you begged, defaulting to the formal address because you needed him to accept it, because he was your lord and master in every way except by name, because you adored him and worshiped him, and you needed him to understand that. “Fuck me, please. I’m yours.”

“So vulgar,” he said, sliding his cock up and down through the wet, sloppy mess he’d made of your pussy. “I wonder what happened to the sweet, innocent girl you used to be.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head. “Please.”

“I’m kidding,” Suguru told you, bracing one hand on your thigh to force your hips to curl while lining up his cock. “Aren’t you going to beg?”

“Please-”

“No, no. Look at me.”

You forced your eyes open, forced yourself to look up at him through tear-covered lashes. “Please, Geto-sama. Please, I’m yours.” 

It was nothing for him to push in. You were wet and eager and it felt good. The feeling of his cock popping past the initial barrier of muscle and driving deeper into your pussy was one of the most uniquely pleasurable sensations you had ever felt, no matter what the context. It gave you the sort of fullness nothing could replicate, physically grounded you in a way nothing else ever had. 

Since you were watching, you got to see his expression slacken into one of pleasure. Your pussy fluttered and squeezed, just making room for him. 

You gave up keeping your eyes open as he drove himself even deeper, throwing your head back to just take it, to ignore the discomfort of his cock grinding against what felt like raw nerves. Suguru braced his hands on your thighs as he rocked his hips, taking his time. 

“What does it feel like?” he asked. 

“Good,” you said quickly, your tongue feeling loose like you were drunk. “So… So good.” 

“I want to feel you come again,” he said. “You don’t mind, right?” 

Your eyes fluttered open in confusion, shutting when he suddenly snapped his hips forward. “I can’t,” you whined. “Not again.”  

“You can,” Suguru told you, grinding his cock as far into as he could, pressing as deep as possible, deep enough to make you whimper and writhe. Could he feel that? Could he feel the way you were shaking all the way down to your bones, feel the way your heart raced and fluttered and skipped? 

And then you heard it turn on. When you heard the buzzing, your brain was wildly scattered enough that you thought it was an electric toothbrush which made no sense whatsoever. When he pressed the vibrator directly to your clit, you yelped, trying to buck it off but only serving to grind yourself into his cock. 

A few little circles with the thing against your clit was all it took for you to choke, your body seizing up with another orgasm. You were acutely aware of the way it caused your cunt to squeeze and suck his cock, coating it in a fresh wave of arousal as he pulled out, making a horrible wet slap when he thrust back in. 

Suguru groaned, keeping the vibrator directly on your clit as he chose a slow, steady pace. 

“I can’t,” you tried to tell him, squirming and writhing with renewed vigor as your body started to tense up to come again. You couldn’t stop it and of course it felt good but it was too much, almost burning. You could handle it. If you came again it would hurt, especially coming with his cock grinding so persistently into your overly sensitive cunt. 

“I thought you were being good,” Suguru said, rewarding you with a heavy, harsh thrust that made you wail. And another. That sent you over the edge, whimpering and shaking and incoherent with the overwhelming influx of heat and tingling overstimulation. Like the brittle snap when breaking a glow stick, or taking a crisp, juicy bite of an apple. It should have been good, but all you could feel was the wet, helpless violation of something ruined. 

Suguru moaned openly, driving himself deep enough for his hips to slap your ass with each heavy thrust. Your head whipped from side to side, the only form of protest left to you. He kept moving the vibrator to make sure you didn’t get too accustomed to any one type of stimulation. It was torture. Horrible torture. You wouldn’t have thought coming could be so agonizing, and yet when you drew up for another sharp, shuddery orgasm you couldn’t recognize it as anything else. 

“Is this better or worse than before?” Suguru asked, his words stuttered with each hard thrust. 

“I don’t… I can’t…” You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t do anything except convulse and cry and come. Again. 

You didn’t understand. 

“You don’t know?” he asked, breathy yet amused. “You’ll have to—to tell me later.” 

The problem was that you had no place to think. You were too full. Suguru continued fucking you hard and steady. All you could hear was the slick slapping of wet skin and that infernal buzzing. There was so much weight behind every movement, like he was trying to batter his way into your womb. Each thrust was followed by a whimper or moan or cry. And the relentless vibrator against your clit. It hurt. It burned. 

“I don’t… don’t…” 

“You’re… not done,” Suguru told you, his voice heavy and breaking with exertion. “Come again.” 

You weren’t sure if you were actually crying anymore, or just sobbing and panting and so sweaty it felt like you were crying. You couldn't form any coherent words, or even incoherent rejections. So you obeyed, the taste of blood on your tongue and stars dotting your vision, your pussy burning and inner walls pulsing around his cock as you came again. Suguru groaned, his lovely lips parted and eyes closed. 

“One more,” he demanded. “Just… Just one… More.” That word was punctuated with a hard thrust and an especially cruel grind of the vibrator against your overstimulated clit. There was no point in saying no, or even believing it wasn’t possible. He knew more than you did. You didn’t know anything. 

With a miserable whine, you came again, although at this point it felt like there was just a long, helpless flow of overstimulation marked with waves of overbearing heat, and then your pussy tightened around his cock and it dragged cruelly against your g-spot, and that was all you could manage before you were tossed back into the mindless daze of agonizing excess.

“Even though it hurts, you’re…” He didn’t finish that breathless thought, although his amused smile went away when his hips suddenly stuttered and he fell forward, his forearm resting by your shoulder. 

Mercifully, Suguru shut the vibrator off, letting it fall somewhere to the side, bracing his other arm on the bed next to you as he sought his own end. Your arms and legs fell to the side, slack except for when your muscles spasmed or jerked. Every thrust added to the relentless cycle of too much, especially from this angle, you could feel the way your body worked itself up to come again, responding to his pleasure as if it were your own. 

“Geto-sama… Suguru please,” you begged and there was a chance he couldn’t make out that you were attempting to form actual words, but even with your sanity fraying at the edges from his torture, you wanted him to come. You wanted to know there was a reason for your complete unraveling, that you had a real, good purpose, some sort of justification to exist. 

Suguru forced your knees all the way up to your chest, pushing his cock as deep as possible as he came, working himself through it with shallow thrusts and these intoxicatingly sexy stuttered moans. Distantly, beyond the hellish, sweaty shell of your shaking body, you had the distinct thought that everything was worth it just to hear him moan like that. Just to be rewarded by his pleasure. Because you loved him. Because you belonged to him. Both of you were flushed hot and disturbingly slick with sweat and it hurt for him to be pushing so deep. Out of all the little cruelties he had subjected you to, the fact that you were unable to hold onto him like you wanted was one of the worst. 

When Suguru pulled out, that hurt too. Every part of your body hurt. He left you to fall bonelessly limp onto the bed, rolling around to lay next to you. 

In the relative quiet, your ears rang with a tinny discordance, paired with the engine roar of rushing blood. Your tongue was sandpaper in your mouth—little wonder, you had no idea how you had any liquid left in your body—and your limbs hurt from being stuck in the bound position for so long, but you couldn’t say you wanted to do anything to fix those things. As soon as the severity of those discomforts occurred to you, so were they carried away by the lapping tide of exhaustion. You felt like a sponge that had been squeezed dry. That’s probably what you looked like too.   

“I didn’t expect it to be so… Difficult to contain myself,” Suguru mused softly. You didn’t respond, marveling at his voice. It was very nice. So soothing and smooth. Perfect, just like every other part of him. “It’s wrong, but necessary. You never learned the right way to live, I have to guide you. Otherwise you could hurt yourself. You could hurt our family.” There was more conviction in those words, like he was trying to argue against a point you hadn’t made. 

Even if you were to be unbound, you wouldn’t dare close your legs. You couldn’t feel his cum slipping out, maybe you were too swollen. That would explain the painful heat. 

“I wish I didn’t have to make my point like this,” Suguru continued. “But I'll do whatever it takes for you to get it.” 

Mute confusion was the only thing you had left—you were barely aware enough to listen to what he was saying, let alone divine any meaning from the words. Your body hurt and you were thirsty and sweaty and tired. You didn’t think anything. You couldn’t do anything. You couldn’t say anything. It wasn’t even confusion, it was just pure exhaustion. 

“Ah, you’re a mess,” Suguru said, sitting up. You groaned in disapproval when he started messing with the straps around your thighs, taking them off. Without the harness's support, your legs dropped limp onto the bed. Still, you didn’t move. You couldn’t fathom moving. “Hey,” he chided, “don’t go to sleep.”

You grunted unhappily. 

“Will you open your eyes?” Suguru asked, touching your fever-hot cheek. After a second, you did, meeting his gaze with your own dazed, blank stare. His expression was tender, you thought. So kind, so sweet, so gentle. “I need you to listen to me now, hm?” 

You made a sound to show that you were listening, looking up at his beautiful face with a marveling sort of adoration. Suguru really was beautiful. It was little wonder so many people thought he was a holy man. He undid the chains keeping your hands and ankles connected, letting your arms flop lifelessly into the sweaty sheets.

“I forgive you,” Suguru told you, his eyes scanning your body slowly, taking in the sweat and the reddish flush and the twitching, trembling of your muscles with some kind of affection. “But, and I need you to remember this,” he continued, his eyes returned to yours, “next time you disobey me, it will be worse.”

Worse? You couldn’t imagine worse. The idea of worse made your eyes sting, panic threatening to crawl back out of the abyss of your exhaustion to send you into a fit of tears.

You blinked and swallowed against your dry throat. “I’ll be… be good, I promise,” you said in a voice that was little more than a hoarse croak. 

“Shhh,” Suguru shushed softly, brushing your damp hair off of your sweaty forehead. “Don’t be scared. Everything I do, I do because I love you. You are precious to me, you know that, don’t you?”

Those words worked like ether sweet anesthesia through your head and you believed him, loved him, trusted him. He did this because he loved you, and because you needed to learn. Of course. That made sense even if nothing else did. 

[mothiir]

not a request, more of a fun fact because i saw another sanguinius fan here yesterday and i can’t find her blog for the life of me.

supposedly birds, particularly male birds, associate their wings being stroked with sexual stimulation and will become very sexually frustrated if it’s not taken care of. Stroking their wings too often will also cause them to associate you with being a mate instead of a friend or companion, which causes them to be jealous and possessive over you.

do with this information what you will

So what I did with this is write some sanguinius being a wee bit feral but also being the noble boy we love. Also I need to start writing things that aren’t dubcon because why is this the healthiest relationship I’ve written so far

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cw: slightly lewd, implications of violence

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It probably starts off completely by chance: you’re cleaning, and Sanguinius swans into his quarters without noticing you. Even the noblest of the Emperor’s sons will sometimes fail to acknowledge the staff, especially when he is distracted -- and oh, is the poor thing distracted. He’s just had to sit through a four hour meeting -- hosted by Roboute, with the Lion in attendance, and he has been zigzagging between acute boredom and blinding frustration -- and, on top of all of that, he is moulting. He claws his robe off his body, stretching his wings out to their full span. He makes a primal sound of pure satisfaction, contorting his sleek golden body to dig his fingers into his tender flesh, trying to unroot the snarls of not-quite loose feathers. Some come free easily; others snag. He wishes he was in Bhaal, where he could stretch himself out in the hot dry dust, and squirm back and forth, letting the acrid soil scratch the most stubborn of itches. Alas, there is no such amenity here, only -- 

It’s then he notices you, cloth in hand, frozen. At his gaze, you immediately drop to your knees, touch your forehead to the floor. 

“My lord Primarch -- forgive me --”

“Forgive you for what?” he says, lightly. “There is nothing to forgive; you are doing your duty. You are excused -- there is plenty aboard to be cleaned.”

You stand somewhat shakily, twisting the cloth between your hands. “Yes my lord. Of course my lord. It is just --”

You know a little about birds -- enough to recognise the signs of a highly uncomfortable moult. And Sanguinius is not a bird but the greatest man you have ever known, and yet…and yet you cannot help yourself. 

“--I wonder if I could be of assistance? With the uh -- with the pin feathers. The ones that aren’t open, I can see a few -- “

You make an aborted little gesture: fingers closing, as if around an invisible reed, pinching slightly, dragging up. Precisely the way he sees to his own pin feathers, letting the keratin sheathe surrounding them crumble against his grip, freeing the filament within. 

“My mother keeps birds,” you offer, as an explanation, then flush. “Not that you are one, my lord -- not --”

He chuckles at your unease, and settles himself down on his bed, patting the red silk quilt beside him. 

“Come. Assist me, if you are so keen.”

Many quail at the sight of him -- despite what Horus thinks, Sanguinius is more revered than beloved, and the difference between the two is stark -- but you do not. You approach him with downturned eyes, smelling faintly of fear, but you still approach him. 

Your hands are small and swift, deftly opening up the feathers in need of help, leaving the ones not yet ready. You work for hours, until your hands must be cramping from effort, but you do not quibble or complain. You smooth his primaries, straighten them in line with each other; you tug free lumps of down with sharp efficient gestures. Slowly, the itching fades, and with it the frustration. Before Sanguinius quite knows what he is doing, he has sprawled himself back onto the mattress, pulling you with him. You use the new angle to your advantage, reaching under his flank to work at the feathers closest to his wingjoints. 

“There,” you say, just as he feels about ready to drift off. His eyes are half-lidded, and a slight smile curves his lips. “That looks…better. You’re not done moulting yet, but that’s what I can do for now.”

“You’ll return tomorrow,” he says, a request and a command and a question all at once. Your cheeks are wonderfully pink as you nod. He ponders briefly what all that delicious blood would taste like, spilling down his throat, and then shoves the thought to the side. He will not ruin your helpfulness with his hunger. 

The next night, you perform the same job, and the night after that, and the night after that. His moult ends, but he thinks it best that you keep returning: caring for his wings is an important duty, after all, and you are so very good at it. So eager to please.

(A voice that sounds distressingly like Konrad’s says what else would she do to please you, golden one? -- but he ignores that, for he must.)

The problem becomes apparent not during those long late nights as you preen him while he tries to think of anything but how sweet your blood would taste, but in the middle of his ship. He has just led his sons to an astounding victory, coming to the aid of a local governor against a fleet of xenos raiders, and -- as is tradition -- they are celebrating, hosting the Imperium’s great and good aboard the Red Tear. The ballroom they gather in is built to accommodate a Primarch, with a huge arched ceiling, draped with scarlet silk. The walls are festooned with artwork of immense beauty, most painted by the Blood Angels themselves: scenes of battles hard won, golden cities on green hills, birds flying free over great glittering lakes. Sanguinius makes a speech, praising the well-fought battle of the planetary defense force against the raiders -- and meaning every word -- and then retires to a corner to sip his wine and try to relax. He cannot walk amongst the delegates without people dropping to their knees in supplication, so he finds that becoming part of the furniture is the best approach for a restful party for all.

That is when he sees you. You’re wearing the same basic formal outfit all of the serfs wear -- fine scarlet linen, embroidered with gold -- but you’ve altered the wide-legged trousers into a skirt, which swishes around your ankles as you move; a slit halfway up your thigh gives him a tantalizing glimpse of pale flesh, and his mouth goes dry. 

Deep in conversation with one of the proud young soldiers, you’re completely oblivious to Sanguinius’s hungry gaze. At least -- he hopes you is, because you laugh at something your companion says and then he touches your shoulder.

Before he can control himself, Sanguinius crosses the ballroom, picks up the young human and rips him in two, showering you both with a fountain of gore. Your scream stills in your throat, eyes bugging with terror, as he gathers you close, tongue running along your pulsing jugular, claws biting into your flesh as he shreds your garment, intent on claiming you then and there, his mate, his woman, his --

That, of course, is not what happens. What actually happens is that Sanguinius stalks towards you, a beatific smile pasted over his face, and the poor young man immediately steps backwards; his logical mind sees the Primarch, and is awestruck; but his primal lizard brain screams this is a predator you have to run. 

“I will have to steal you away, if you don’t mind,” he says, and of course you do not mind -- because you are his. His woman. His mate. As he steers you out of the ballroom, you confide in a low voice:

“Thank you. He was lovely, but just a little too eager. I think he was all of seventeen!”

Sanguinius knows he should feel ashamed that he had come this close to gutting a child-soldier who had the misfortune of making you laugh, but he doesn’t. He feels a little guilty at his lack of guilt, but that is it. If he had slain the boy it would have been his right, as your lord and master --

No. No. That is not him; that is not how he acts, nor how he behaves. Those impulses come to him for he is a warhawk and a warrior, but he does not act on them because he is not a monster. 

“These parties do get tiresome,” he says, ushering you ahead of him. “I am glad I have you to keep me company while we avoid them.”

You end up back in his bedroom, combing your fingers through his feathers. He melts under your touch, every sinew in his back starting to relax. Soon -- hopefully soon -- he will have you squirming and mewling under him, your legs spread eagerly for him, your tight little body welcoming him deep inside. Soon. When he is sure that you are saying yes because you want to, not because the overwhelming force of his desire is warping your own feelings. When he can trust himself not to hurt you anymore than you want to be hurt. 

Sanguinius can hold tight to his self control for that. For your sake. For his. 

[mamaagirlbehindyouu]

Tara having a romantic relationship with her woman professor and then Tara follows her home one day curious as to why they never meet outside hotels and out of town restaurants, and sees she’s married to her husband and kids

“I’ll see you.”

A Tara Carpenter X F! Reader One-Shot

In which Tara sees your relationship for what it really is.

WARNING: Angst, no comfort

Word Count: 1,051

A/N: Tried my best. Will get to other requests later!!

“Doesn’t it get expensive?” Tara asked, as she looked up at you from where she was sitting on the edge of the bed. The comforter was a crisp white, what you’d expect from a $400 room. Fuck inflation.

“What do you mean?” You knew exactly what Tara meant. That didn’t mean you wanted to acknowledge it, though.

“You know, booking the hotel rooms?”

Your stomach dropped at Tara’s question. You should’ve known Tara would start meddling about your personal information; She could be quite stubborn when she wanted to know something. You weren’t ready to tell the truth, though. I mean, how could you? What would you even say? ‘Oh, sorry, forgot to mention, but I actually have a husband and two kids at home, even though I’ve been seeing you for half a year now’? No. The easier answer was to tell Tara nothing.

“Don’t worry about it,” is what you settled on.

“‘Don’t worry about it’?” Tara repeated, her gaze still fixed on you, although her brows were furrowed now, a hint of annoyance in her tone.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. If the price were an issue, I wouldn’t be paying for it.” As you spoke, you touched your hand to the nape of your neck. Tara wasn’t stupid; She noticed. Although she would never admit it, she was utterly enthralled by you. She was captivated by every small movement you made whenever you gave a lecture, and the minute changes in the intonation of your voice whenever you spoke. This meant that she had picked up on your behaviors. When you were nervous, you touched the nape of your neck. The action, combined with your vague answer, only served to make Tara more suspicious.

“You’re a professor. I know you don’t make good money. Tell me the truth. Tell me why you don’t ever let me come to your house- why we always have to meet in hotels, or out of town.” Tara’s voice was rising now. God, she can have such a short temper sometimes.

“Listen, I..” You began to speak, your voice softer now, gently placing a hand on Tara’s shoulder, attempting to placate her with your tone. But, as you began to talk, you realized you had never come up with an excuse. Why the fuck had you never prepared a viable explanation?? “Tar’,” You continued to scramble for a lie, and your unease was clear.

Tara’s expression softened. “Hey, you don’t need to be embarrassed, whatever it is.” Tara placed her hand on your free one, softly stroking your skin with her thumb. “If you’re embarrassed because you’re still living with your parents, or some shit, I get it. Teaching doesn’t make too much money, and you’re fairly young for a professor. I understand if you’re still figuring things out.”

The fact that Tara assumed your anxiety was due to embarrassment, not the result of a lie, or any kind of malicious intent, only made you feel worse. Your heart sunk to your feet. Of course Tara’s first instinct was to rationalize things, to see the best in you, to grant vindication. It made you feel like shit for not telling the truth, but you were in too deep.

“Yeah. That’s why you I never let you come over. I’m glad you understand. I’ve just been too embarrassed to tell you, and I think it’s too soon for you to meet my family.” You offered Tara a small smile, attempting to sell your lie.

“Hey, you don’t need to-“ Tara began to comfort you, but you cut her off.

“I have to go. I’ll see you in class on Thursday.” You gave her hand a quick, small, squeeze, before breaking contact.

“Wait, no, don’t-“ Tara stood up from the bed, a slight hint of urgency in her tone now.

“Really. I need to leave.” You said more firmly, grabbing your bag off the desk. “I had a nice time today. I always do, with you.”

And with that, you were gone, leaving Tara confused, standing in the middle of the hotel room. She wanted to believe your story (or, rather, the story she had subconsciously created for you), she really did- but something just wasn’t sitting right with her. I mean, sure, she understood that you were embarrassed, but you really didn’t trust her enough to tell her this beforehand? Although Tara tried her best to clear her mind of her suspicions, she couldn’t help but wonder if you were telling the whole truth.

Which is why Tara found herself following you home. Was it creepy? potentially. Okay, probably. Okay, definitely- but she knew she wouldn’t be able to shake the fraught pit in her stomach until she had eased her doubts.

What she hadn’t expected, however, was for her concerns to be justified. You hadn’t noticed that Tara had trailed you back to your house, but she was sure as hell noticing what you were doing. When you had gotten home, a man had come outside of your house, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. At this, Tara began to panic, but she rationalized it. The man certainly didn’t look old enough to be your father, but maybe it was an older brother in town that you were super, oddly, close with? Yeah, that had to be it.

The next thing Tara saw, though, could not be defended. Two small kids, a boy and a girl, resembling both you and the man to a sickening extent, ran out of the house, wrapping their arms around you. Tara’s windows were rolled up, but, reading their lips, the word that came out of the two children’s mouths was unmistakable. “Mommy”.

Tara immediately reached for the car door handle, her fingers wrapping around the smooth material, but she exerted no force. Was this really the right thing to do? Could she even do anything? Say anything, if she tried?

She let go of the door handle. As tears spilled down her cheeks, Tara did the one thing she had been taught to do all of her life- Run away from her problems. She never came to another one of your lectures again, leaving you with no explanation, her absence abrupt, suddenly disappearing from your life. After that day, you became the confused one.

END NOTE: I hope this was at least kind of what you were hoping for. This was my first time writing any sort of angst. Thank you for sending one of my first requests! Idk if there’s still any interest for a Pt. 2 of my previous Tara Carpenter post, but I may make another part. Please feel free to send more requests <3.

PHOTO CREDITS: In order from left to right, all sourced from Pinterest. Victoria_TS8, elee5030, taracrpentloser

[ivegotyourbackbuddie]

The Wrong Buckley. Part Four of Six. Ao3 Link. Part One. Two. Three.

They don’t talk about it.

Of course they don’t. Why would they?

They’re just… Buck and Eddie. That’s how they are, letting the lines blur sometimes, according to what other people might see as a stereotypical friendship.

But they’re doing… okay.

Well, Eddie has put up some type of wall so Buck can interpret even less of whatever has been going on inside his head recently. But from what he gets glimpses of, it seems like Eddie is panicking. Especially whenever he catches Buck watching him carefully.

It carries over into work a bit. Eddie falters around Buck, tripping over his feet, although he’s one of the least clumsy people Buck’s ever met, and dropping random things ranging from a carrot Buck hands him while prepping dinner to the jaws of life on a scene. Luckily, Buck has his back, so he’s able to scoop the equipment out of his hands before it can hit the ground.

Bobby gives the two of them a concerned look, and on the next scene, he assigns Eddie with Hen.

Buck tries not to act like a kicked puppy, but it’s hard when he doesn't have his partner with him.

“I will never understand how you two never get tired of each other,” Chimney comments as they move to a red car with the left doors crushed in.

Buck frowns. Is that what’s happening? Is Eddie getting tired of him? Without thinking, Buck asks, “Would you get tired of having Maddie around all the time?”

“No,” Chimney replies with a huge grin and no hesitation. “But I think she might lose her mind after a while.”

Buck smiles and glances Eddie’s way. He’s not sure if he could ever get tired of being around Eddie, but maybe he doesn’t feel the same way. He does tend to get under Eddie’s skin in a way not many people can do. But then Buck thinks of the whispered I missed you and his heart flutters.

He frowns when he comes back to reality, taking in the way Eddie is ranting to Hen, too far away to hear a word he’s saying, but by the tension in his shoulders and the furrow in his brow... it looks serious. 

“Buck,” Chimney says.

Right. He’s at work. Not the time for Buck to stare at Eddie.

By the time they triage the patient and get him on a backboard, Buck nearly forgets about all the strangeness surrounding him and Eddie.

That is, until the patient being wheeled into the ambulance by Hen and Eddie points directly at Buck and asks, “Is that him?”

Eddie panics and shoves an oxygen mask in her face, giving Buck a nervous, tight smile before climbing into the back of the ambulance, nearly closing the doors on Hen in his rush.

Buck gives Chimney a look and is partially relieved when Chimney’s mirrored, confused look confirms his suspicions.

That was weird.

Surprisingly, the rest of the shift goes by quickly, and soon enough, they’re back in the locker room getting ready to go home.

Buck is trying not to stare at Eddie, who has yet to look at him. But maybe they don't usually make eye contact when they're changing.

Hen pats Eddie's shoulder on her way out, and Eddie is apparently fine to look at her as she asks, "I'll see you tomorrow night?"

Wait what?

Buck's full body turns to Eddie now that he has an excuse to stare. Eddie's spine straightens.

He looks at Buck out of the corner of his eye tentatively before smiling and nodding at Hen. “Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

Chimney leaves alongside Hen, leaving just Buck and Eddie in the silent room.

Buck waits for an explanation, but Eddie doesn’t give him one. Instead, he finishes lacing up his shoes and asks, “Ready?” leaving before Buck can give him an answer, and still not looking at him.

Buck scrambles to button his pants and hurries off after him. He waits until they get into the Jeep to ask, “So, what was that about?”

“What was what about?”

Buck makes sure Eddie’s buckled in before he drives off. “Your plans with Hen for tomorrow night.”

Eddie sighs, head lolling on the seat as he finally glances toward Buck. “She invited me to her and Karen’s wine night with the other wives. Athena can't make it, so I guess I'm taking her place,” he adds on the last part with a wince as if bracing for backlash from Buck.

And yeah, why wasn’t he also invited? Everyone knows they’re basically a package deal. They’re BuckandEddie.

But Buck is trying to be more supportive and less possessive of Eddie’s time. Secretly, he’s a bit relieved that it isn’t a solo Maddie and Eddie hangout, but he definitely doesn’t say that. Instead, alarm bells ring in his head, and he asks, “Wait, Maddie still does wine night?”

Eddie chuckles, “I asked the same thing.” Of course he did. “She drinks that sparkling grape juice stuff we give to Christopher on New Year’s Eve.”

“Oh.” That makes sense.

Buck can feel Eddie watching him as if he’s a ticking time bomb. But all Buck asks is, “So, do you want me to stay with Christopher while you’re out?”

He knows Eddie is surprised by the way his brown eyes widen as he says, “That… would be great.” His phone dings, and he looks away for a moment. “Actually, if you wanted to, you could bring him to Maddie and Chimney’s, where the rest of the kids will be staying for the night. Maddie says he’ll appreciate the help.”

Buck desperately wants to glance over at Eddie’s phone and read exactly what Maddie said to him when she found out he was going to be there. If she told him she was excited to hear from Hen that he was coming, or if Eddie texted her first, and she replied with a bunch of excited emojis.

He painstakingly keeps his eyes on the road ahead of him, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “Yeah, that will be nice. Maybe I can ask them to help me bake something.”

Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have brought up his urge to bake because he can see Eddie’s sharp look out of the corner of his eye. “Buck–”

Buck waves a single hand at him. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” To emphasize how fine he is, he turns on the radio, ending the conversation.

It only takes two minutes for Eddie to reach out and turn the volume down. “I was going to get a ride from Maddie, but I was hoping you’d maybe drop me off?”

Buck risks a glance at Eddie when the car comes to a stop. He can see that Eddie’s trying to placate him with the offer.

And it’s unfortunately working.

Buck can never resist those pleading brown eyes.

A car honks behind him, and Buck focuses on the task of driving again, reluctantly drawing his eyes away from Eddie’s. He makes two turns before he answers, “That would be nice.”

Eddie leans forward and turns the music back up. But on the way back, his hand settles on the center console, palm up.

Buck glances at him, finding Eddie giving him a small smile. And what is he supposed to do other than take Eddie’s hand and hold it for the rest of the drive home?

He’s such a good best friend.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Whatever weirdness from the day before disappears on their day off, and Buck’s able to enjoy the mundaneness of a day of running errands with Eddie – not that he can truly call it “mundane” when he’s with Eddie, but that’s beside the point.

“We’re not going somewhere to get your oil changed,” Eddie says as they load the groceries into the back of Buck’s Jeep.

“You’re the one who volunteered to join me on my errands day, which happens to include an oil change and car wash.”

Eddie scoffs, “You’re really telling me you waste your money on those things?”

“You’ve never gotten an oil change?” Buck asks, fully turning to face Eddie.

Eddie rolls his eyes as he tosses the last bag in the back. He crosses his arms as he faces Buck. “Nope.”

“That’s literally not possible.”

“Yes, it is,” Eddie argues, nudging Buck back before he closes the door of the trunk.

“So, you kill all your cars?”

Eddie laughs and makes his way back to the passenger seat. Buck scrambles to get into the driver’s seat to continue the conversation, only to find Eddie digging through his glove box. He doesn’t even give Buck a guilty look when he catches him; if anything, he looks annoyed by the amount of stuff Buck has thrown in there.

“Uh,” Buck manages to get out when Eddie raises an eyebrow and pulls out a handful of ketchup packets. “Did you know someone survived on ketchup packets after getting trapped in their car?”

“I think you told me about that,” Eddie replies, still digging through, biceps flexing in a way that makes Buck feel a little light-headed. He needs to ban him from wearing those in public, they're entirely indecent.

Buck reluctantly pulls his eyes away from Eddie's arms to ask, “So, what are you looking for?”

“Your car manual.”

“Oh, it’s under your seat.”

Eddie gives him a look before reaching down and patting around a bit before he pulls it into his lap. He flips it open, and only then does Buck remember why he knows exactly where it is.

A full strip of condoms falls into Eddie’s lap.

Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, and Buck shrugs. “It’s always good to be prepared.”

“That's why you knew where it was,” Eddie says more so than asks with a sigh as he continues flipping through the manual.

Buck refuses to confirm that and instead asks, “What do you need in there?”

“Not a condom,” Eddie replies snarkily. Buck can feel his face heat up. “Here,” Eddie says, turning the little book toward him, pointing at something in the middle of the page.

It’s the section about oil changes, but specifically what oil he needs for his car.

Eddie starts typing something on his phone and puts it away after finding what he needs. He grabs the manual from Buck, slipping the condoms back in before stashing it beneath the front seat and climbing out of the car.

“Uh, w-where are you going?” Buck asks, opening his own door.

“They’ve got the oil you need in the store.”

The pinch between Buck’s brows deepens.

Eddie waits for him to get whatever it is, and when he doesn’t, he finally explains, “I’m changing your oil.”

Buck can feel his entire body light up as he gets it. “That’s why you’ve never gotten your oil changed.”

Eddie shakes his head and chuckles as he closes his door.

“Wait,” Buck says as he meets Eddie outside the car. “What about the car wash?”

Eddie claps his back and casually says, “I can wash it for you, too.”

And as he walks away, Buck's eyes flicker down to take in the way Eddie's jeans fit him just right. Buck swallows heavily, wondering if this is going to be a huge mistake.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Here’s the thing…

Buck knows Eddie is attractive.

Anyone who has ever laid eyes on him knows that.

But Eddie wearing a different sleeveless shirt worn with time and various grease and oil stains, sweat clinging to that single strand of hair on his forehead as he suds up Buck’s beloved Jeep after changing the oil with practiced ease… It’s sinful.

And Buck doesn’t know if he’s going to survive.

He’s gone inside three times already with various excuses. Bathroom, lemonade, bathroom again. He’s running out of excuses fast. And every time he comes back outside, Eddie manages to look more and more tantalizingly unkempt, and Buck wonders at what point he can excuse himself to take a cold shower.

“You’re sure I can’t help you?” Buck asks as he leans against the side of the house, watching.

“Yeah, man. Can’t risk us both needing to shower and being late to pick up Chris. Your company is great.”

Except Buck’s company isn’t great. They have barely said a word to each other since Eddie finished explaining step by step the oil change process, and it was truly in one ear and out the other for Buck because Eddie had also decided to wear shorts, which is something he never does. So, of course, Buck is going to take the opportunity to memorize every muscle. That's just what best friends do.

Buck risks a glance at his phone to check the time when it sinks in that they need to leave soon. “Hey–” he completely stops breathing when he sees Eddie, turned away from him, bent over to rewet his rag.

When he straightens up, he looks over his shoulder with a small smile. “Did you say something?”

Did he? Was there something he wanted to say to him?

His phone alarm goes off. Shit. “Uh, yeah! We need to pick up Chris. Well… I can pick him up if you don’t mind me taking your car.”

Eddie smiles at him, those sharp canines that drive Buck a little crazy fully on display. “Of course, Buck. What’s mine is yours. I’ll finish up here and jump in the shower.”

Buck nods and heads inside, trying not to get stuck on what’s mine is yours.

He grabs Eddie’s keys quickly and gives him a brief goodbye, trying not to look at him directly, or he’s going to end up staying until he’s done. And not only does he not want to deal with the sarcastic comments from a moody teenage Chris, but he also really doesn’t want to spend any more time thirsting after his straight best friend.

The traffic isn’t bad, and other than something spoken under Chris’s breath after Buck explains why his dad isn’t there, the ride back is lovely. He hasn’t spent too much alone time with Chris since he’s gotten back, and really, although he’s experiencing a bit of fomo about wine night, he’s glad he’s hanging out with Chris and the other kids tonight.

“Hey, Chris, how do you feel about ordering that weird pineapple pizza along with the cheese and pepperoni for tonight?”

“You mean the one my dad hates?”

Buck nods.

“Hell yeah.”

“Language,” Buck tries to say somewhat sternly, but his big smile doesn’t help anything.

“Okay, Dad,” Chris mumbles under his breath again.

Buck tries not to think about why it sounds so right the entire ride home.

-:-:-:-:-:-

It’s not long until Chris and Buck are back in the car, dropping a freshly showered Eddie off.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t!” Buck calls out.

“That’s not exactly a long list, Buck,” Eddie replies, getting a laugh out of Chris. He gets out of the car and turns back to say, “You take care of him, okay?”

“I will,” Chris and Buck both reply at the same time.

Eddie gives Buck a wink and a wave goodbye. Buck watches until he gets into the house, getting a big hug from Karen before he’s pulled inside. Even after, he waits a few moments, already missing him.

“Pizza?” Chris asks.

Buck reaches back to give him a fist bump. “Pizza.”

The rest of the night goes by faster than Buck wants it to. They have a heated discussion about pineapple on pizza, choosing either “Eddie’s right” or “Buck’s right.” But only Chimney chooses “Chimney’s right” about pineapple only pairing well with anchovies. Which then dissolves into a discussion about the history of anchovies, and the next time they can all go to the aquarium.

Buck gets some help with his chocolate chip cookies in between rounds of Super Smash Bros, but the kids are mainly distracted by how comedically bad Chimney is at the game.

When the cookies are done, they all vote on watching Finding Nemo after their lively fish discussion – and at the insistence of Jee, who no one can truly argue with. By the time the movie is done, Buck and Chimney very regrettably have to inform the kids that it’s still a school night, which means bedtime and time for Buck and Chris to head home.

After many hugs and with a small container of baked goods in hand, Buck heads out the door, checking his phone for the hundredth time for a text from Eddie, but… apparently, they take their wine night seriously.

When they get back home, Buck nearly gets bribed into watching the first episode of some show Chris started in Texas, but Buck talks him out of it when he thinks of the look of betrayal from Eddie when he finds out they started without him.

So, with the promise of pancakes in the morning, Buck wishes Chris goodnight and stares at his phone.

An hour later, it pings with a text from Eddie.

readyyyyyy ❤️❤️❤️

Buck raises his eyebrows. That’s… interesting. He sends a quick response that he’s on his way before rushing to the car.

The drive over is boring and uneventful on his own, but as soon as he parks in front of the house, he can sense that's about to change.

The Wilson house door swings open when Buck is halfway down the yard.

“Buck!” Eddie calls out. He takes a few unsteady steps forward until Maddie appears behind him and wraps an arm around his waist to steady him.

Buck picks up his pace until he’s right in front of Eddie smiling at him like he’s the greatest thing he’s ever seen. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Eddie says back with a damn giggle before he stumbles into Buck’s arms.

Maddie gives him a knowing look when Buck tucks his head over Eddie’s shoulder. Buck furrows his brows at her and glances toward the closed door behind her. “Where are Hen and Karen?”

Before she can answer, Eddie cuts in, “Hen put Karen to bed before bad things could happen out here.”

“Okay,” Maddie says with a pat to Eddie’s back, eyes wide, “Let’s get you home.”

Eddie holds onto Buck a little tighter. “Wanna stay here.”

Buck’s heart melts a little.

“I’m sure Buck will let you hug him for as long as you want when you two get home,” Maddie says.

Buck gives her a look.

Maddie gives him one back.

“Maddie,” Eddie says, pulling away from Buck, “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

Buck freezes while Maddie laughs. It’s like time slows down as Buck watches Eddie turn to Maddie, eyes lighting up before he takes a swaying step forward, bending down to plant a firm kiss against Maddie’s temple.

And then there’s the way that Maddie laughs, carefree, so full of joy that her smile is nearly blinding.

“I love you, too, Eddie,” Maddie says so sincerely that Buck feels like she’s plunged a knife straight through his heart. “Now let’s get you to the car.”

Buck takes Eddie’s right side, and Maddie takes the left as they make their way to the Jeep.

When they get Eddie inside, Maddie gives Buck a brief hug, laughing as Eddie pouts at them through the window. “We should do that dinner with you two soon? Double date?”

“Very funny,” Buck manages to get out, trying to sound appropriately put off, but it comes out all strangled and wrong.

Maddie stares at him. “What’s wrong?”

Buck shakes his head. “Uh, nothing. Just didn’t sleep much last night.”

He knows that she sees right through the lie, but she doesn’t push. “Okay, but… You know you can always talk to me, right?”

“Yeah,” he lies again. “Oh, Jee helped me make some cookies. There should be some left for you.”

Maddie squeezes his arm, eyes soft as she says, “I love you, too.”

Despite everything, Buck can’t help but smile at his sister. “Goodnight, Maddie.”

“Goodnight, Evan. Good luck with him.”

Buck glances back at the window where Eddie is drawing a heart in the condensation on the glass. How much wine did he drink?

When Buck gets into the car, Eddie asks, “Have I ever told you how amazing your sister is?”

This is going to be a long drive home.

“Uh, yeah. I may have overheard a thing or two,” Buck confesses.

Eddie drunkenly hums, head lolling to the side when he looks at Buck. “Have I ever told you how amazing you are?”

Buck laughs as he drives off. “No, I don’t think you have.”

“Couldn’t shut up about you tonight. Karen made a rule that anytime I brought you up, we would take a drink,” Eddie laughs and leans over the console, whispering, “We had to open another bottle.”

So, two glasses of water on the nightstand tonight and a pain killer type of drunk. “All good things?” Buck hopes aloud.

“Always a good thing talking about you.” Eddie pauses. “Unless you’re Maddie because she did not want to hear some of the things I had to say.”

Buck’s heart stutters. Is Maddie jealous of his and Eddie’s relationship? Does she want to be the one spending all of their time with Eddie instead?

“I was told not to talk,” Eddie says suddenly, pantomiming zipping his lips closed and tossing the key.

Wait, do Hen and Karen know? “Uh, why’s that?”

When they get to another stop, Eddie pretends to unlock his mouth. “Because I need to not confess anything to you when drunk.”

There it is. The truth about what he and Maddie really are to each other. Buck can read between the lines. He's not an idiot.

“There’s something we can do that doesn’t involve talking,” Eddie says in a low tone Buck has only heard a handful of times. Before he knows it, Eddie is reaching under his seat for the second time this day.

“Eddie-”

Eddie’s loud laugh cuts him off as he pulls the condoms out of the manual with a flourish. “Can’t believe you have these under this seat. How many times have I sat here without knowing about these?”

“God, you are drunk," Buck says, not entirely focusing on what he's saying for his own sanity.

“Are these an extra-large?”

Buck turns red as he snatches the strip and tosses it under his seat, hoping to end this mortifying one-sided conversation.

A few moments pass before Eddie fucking giggles, “Firehose.”

Buck groans and puts his hand over Eddie’s mouth. He’s expecting him to do something dumb like lick his hand, but Eddie just grabs his hand and lays it palm up in his hand. He studies it as if it’s the most important thing in the world, fingers tracing over calluses and sensitive skin.

It seems to keep him occupied for most of the drive home. On the last street, Eddie quietly tangles their fingers together, pressing his cheek against Buck’s hand as he stares at him.

Buck doesn’t dare look over.

He lets go of Eddie’s hand with the promise of letting Eddie hold it when he gets him out of the car. And Eddie does just that.

When they get inside the front door, Buck whispers, “Remember to be quiet while Christopher is sleeping.”

“Yeah?” Eddie whispers loudly, leaning back against the front door. “We can be quiet.”

He says it so suggestively that Buck has to take a step away in hopes that Eddie will remember it’s him. Not one of the girls he’s dated. Or worse… Maddie. “Let’s get ready to go to bed.”

Eddie winks at him, finger coming up to his lips, silently gushing him.

Buck turns away, trying not to let the sight affect him as he pulls Eddie down the hall. Maybe he should sleep on the couch tonight.

Luckily, they make it to the bathroom with minimal stumbling or talking. When Buck suggests Eddie take his turn in the bathroom, Eddie insists he just needs to brush his teeth, which they can do together.

Eddie’s arm nudges against Buck's the entire time. He apologizes with a squint of his eyes as he smiles at Buck in the mirror.

When they’re done, Buck leads them back to their room with no issues. But when the door closes, Eddie’s hand drops from Buck’s in favor of stripping his shirt off, but he gets stuck midway through. Buck tries not to laugh. “Need a hand?”

Eddie sighs dramatically, “No.”

Buck helps him anyway and tosses the shirt into their laundry basket.

“Do you need help with yours?” Eddie asks with a slight quiver in his voice.

Buck shakes his head. “I’m okay. Let’s focus on you right now.”

Eddie smiles at Buck, hands cupping his face, thumbs running gently over his stubble as he says, “My Buckley.”

Buck’s heart plummets to the ground. Eddie thinks he’s Maddie.

He grabs Eddie’s hands and pulls them away from his face slowly, using them to guide Eddie to the dresser where he keeps his sweatpants. When Eddie refuses to let go of his hand, Buck manages to use their joined hands to not only open the drawer for the grey sweats but also pull out a pair before going to Eddie’s side of the bed.

“You’re going to have to let go to get these on, Eds.”

With much hesitation, Eddie slides his hands away from Buck’s.

Buck makes the mistake of taking a step back, and Eddie immediately latches back on.

“Hey, hey,” Buck says gently, ducking his head to get eye level with him, “I’m just getting your water, okay?”

Eddie nods and squeezes his hands. “You’re the best. I love you.”

Buck swallows hard.

That’s something best friends say to each other. All the time. It’s normal.

Except for Buck and Eddie, who just… haven’t said those words to each other. They’ve always shown their love in other ways, and there was never a need to say it outright. For some reason, it just never felt right.

Eddie must not sense Buck’s panic because he starts tugging at the button on his pants, and Buck takes it as his sign to excuse himself.

He makes his way to the kitchen and fills up two glasses, wondering if the words were meant for Maddie again. He knows Eddie said they weren’t having an affair, and they have a no lying rule in the house, but… he confessed it in the car, right?

He sighs and shakes his head, grabbing the bottle of pain meds on the way back to the room. He wonders if he should ask Eddie about everything while he’s drunk, but that would be too deceptive.

When he opens the door, he’s met with the sight of Eddie only in his boxers, the sweatpants knocked off the bed, snoring away into his pillow.

Buck grabs a spare blanket from the closet and drapes it over him, not wanting to disturb his sleep too much.

As he grabs the pants off the floor, Eddie’s phone lights up in the dark room.

A text from Maddie.

Buck looks at Eddie. He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t.

Buck puts away the sweatpants and makes it to his side of the bed. But he doesn’t get in it.

Instead, he makes his way over to Eddie’s side, grabbing Eddie’s phone off the nightstand.

Buck climbs into his side of the bed, glancing at Eddie facing the opposite wall. He really shouldn't do this.

He turns on the phone, typing in Eddie’s six-digit password he’s had for years – Chris’s birthday.

He opens his messages, taking a deep breath before opening the ones from Maddie.

He’s going to be sick.

[slashmagpie]

Shhhh.

It’s silliness, really, that makes Tango creep through the hollows in Decked Out’s walls to his mess of shulkers full of in-game items. He keeps his footsteps light, his breathing shallow, picturing himself a ghost as he slinks through the shadows and stone. It’s silly, but he can’t help but think that maybe, if he’s quiet enough, he might be able to—

Steal from the dungeon.

His fingers touch the shulker he needs, and the stone around him groans, deep and resonating through his bones. Tango grits his teeth, freezing. Busted. He’d known, really, but it’s still—

“It’s fine,” he says to the air, tail lashing, not quite opening the box just yet. “It’s a starter deck. If I was a normal player, I’d have had a Moment of Clarity in my deck from the get-go.”

Another grumble of discontent. Tango shivers. He can feel the disapproval crawling beneath his skin, and it takes all his willpower not to drop the shulker like a hot coal. 

“I know,” he says. “I thought I explained this! It’s an experiment, right? I’m seeing—seeing how dungeon knowledge makes up for a, uh, relative lack of skill.” The dungeon’s unhappiness remains where it is, but does not increase, and Tango lets out a shaking breath as he cracks open the lid of the shulker and peers inside just enough to spot and snag one of the cards he needs. He turns it between his fingers, glittering cardboard, the golden foil glittering in the torchlight. 

“I know I’m not a regular player,” Tango reassures the dungeon once again. “We talked about this, didn’t we? I’m not gonna submit Victory Tomes. And I’m starting behind everyone else. I won’t even run as much! I’m just—gonna try it. Think of it like the test runs again, yeah?” 

The discontent surges—then wanes, like a wave rushing back out to sea, and Tango feels like he can breathe again, the pressure on his lungs lessening. He hadn’t realised just how uncomfortable the weight had been until it was gone. Feeling ten tons lighter, Tango grins at the air.

“See? And, hey, if I run the dungeon, you’ll probably get to eat me loads more. You like that, don’t you?” A wry smirk. “I’m basically your favourite meal.”

The dungeon—doesn’t quite laugh, but the groan is quieter, softer, and tickles more than it prickles or aches. It’s not quite approval, and it’s not happy, but—it’s letting him. It’s letting him run, Moment of Clarity and all.

Tango tucks the additional card away inside his inventory and makes to leave the small, cramped storage room that isn’t a storage room and that Pearl would definitely murder him for. He hurries through his actual storage room and up to the water elevator. He should get his runs done before the dungeon changes its mind again. Honestly, sometimes Decked Out is more of a pain than the Ravagers are. 

…He is glad that it had fallen for his excuses, for the experiment and beta testing explanations, because he’s not sure the dungeon would appreciate his actual reasons for running quite as much. It’s quite particular about the place of its Dungeon Master, and what is and isn’t appropriate for Tango to do. It's why Tango spends hours and hours of his day watching people run the dungeon instead of working on all those repairs he’s got mounting on a list in the back of his mind. And why he has to give a mountain of excuses to play the game he’d helped make. Because really, in actuality—

Tango just wants to have a little fun.

Is that too much to ask?

He places a shard in the barrel and watches the doors open. He can feel the dungeon’s eyes on him already, and it’s weird to not be looking through them himself as he takes off his armour and stores his stuff in the chest. He takes a deep breath, tucks the stolen Moment of Clarity into his deck, and makes his way through the iron door.

Decked Out curls beneath his skin, curious and hungry, and as Tango places his deck into the slot, he feels the dungeon purr. 

[queenofbaws]

ooo how about "is everything okay?" "i just need a distraction.." from that midnight calls prompt list with josh n ashley :]

There was no excuse, really. She couldn't say she was 'in the zone,' couldn't say she was trying to get there, couldn't say she was lost in her thoughts, couldn't say she was attempting to find them...she couldn't even say she was asleep, or dozing, or skimming through which of her nine thousand fantasy universes she'd be using instead of counting sheep when bedtime actually did come around. Ashley jumped because jumping was, well, her body's natural reaction to most sudden sounds (and sudden movements, and sudden stops, and sudden realizations, and, and, and...); there wasn't an excuse that applied.

Didn't mean she had to tell Josh that.

She hit the button to answer her phone on speaker, dropping her head into her hands immediately afterwards. "Hello?" she sighed, doing her best to cover the adrenaline-quakes in her voice.

Now, a normal person probably would've noticed anyway. A normal person would've stopped and reconsidered. A normal person would've said something like 'Oh, is this a bad time?' or 'What's up with you?' or maybe even 'Augh, is it too late? Sorry, I didn't even think about that!'

But this wasn't a normal person.

This was Josh.

He blew right past her, full steam ahead.

"I think I figured it out. What ruined the whole thing, I mean. And before you say it, no, it's not even the choice to have the kid do all that rapping. I know that's hard to believe, but stick with me on this one, okay? I've put a lot of thought into it."

There went the spike of fear, deflated like a discount grocery store balloon. If there was any benefit of being in Josh's quote-unquote inner circle, she had to figure it was that; he could use his crappy Psych 101 powers for good sometimes (when he deigned to), finding the precise spot to apply pressure until you forgot all the stuff that was bothering you and you were left so flummoxed that your brain chemicals miraculously balanced out.

Still, that...didn't mean she had the first idea what he was talking about.

Blinking hard, she checked the time and pinched herself for good measure, ruling out all the obvious explanations. But no, no, she was awake and it wasn't even that late, so Josh's word salad was sort of just that - word salad. She ran through the greeting again, scanning it with the searching eye of a reading comprehension test expert, aaaaaaand...nothing. Narrowing her eyes, she stared down at her phone, watching the seconds tick, tick, tick away between them.

"...what?"

"I figured. It. Out," he repeated, proving once and for all that nope, nuh-uh, no explanation was forthcoming. He was leaving her high and dry, trusting that - sooner or later - experience or context or straight-up telepathy would bridge the gap between them. "It isn't the diaper to the face either. Again, not a choice I would've made, but it's not the heart of the issue, know what I mean?"

Gap? Had she said it was a gap between them? Screw that - this was the Grand Freaking Canyon.

"Josh," she sighed, pressing her fingers hard to the ridge of her eyebrows as if it would help organize her thoughts. "I have...no idea what you're talking about. Is this some weird new crank call you're trying out? Because I have to be honest, it's, like, not...good."

The nerve of him, he sighed back at her from the other end of the line, acting like she'd been the one to call him in the middle of the night. "You know what I'm talking about."

"I don't!"

"You do! The Visit!"

"The...what?" At that, she took him off of speaker, pressing the phone to her ear. Why she did it, she couldn't say, but hearing his voice concentrated down like that had to help something, didn't it? "What visit? We haven't gone anywhere!"

"No, The Visit. Remember?"

Her eyes rolled to the ceiling. "I don't."

"Sure you do. The grandparents were dead all along?"

"I - what?"

"And then the kid rapped."

Squinting, she stared at her ceiling fan, her mouth tracing words her voicebox was too confused to push out, and - then it hit her. Ashley rocked forward where she sat, her body going slack as the connection was finally - FINALLY - made. "Oh my God...that movie?! That awful movie we watched?!"

"Uh, yeah, duh."

"Josh, that - " Shaking her head, she glanced towards her planner, feeling her confusion bubble right back up again. " - that was three weeks ago! Why are you still thinking about this?!"

"What can I say, it stuck in my craw."

"It stuck in your - " But before she could finish the thought, before she could tease him too badly for being weird or obsessive or weirdly obsessive, her eye caught something else.

The date.

And there it was, the experience, the context, the straight-up telepathy. In that instant, it all made sense.

How was it February already? How hadn't she noticed? How -

There wasn't any quiver to her voice that time. Honestly, she wasn't sure it had ever sounded as calm and even as it did then, her weight on her elbows and her eyes slowly shutting to block out tomorrow's date. (Today's, really, if you wanted to be pedantic, but, whatever.) "Okay, if it wasn't the rapping or the diaper thing or the grandparents, then, like, what's the problem?"

"The squandered potential. That's what it all comes down to: That twist could've knocked my fucking socks off, but it didn't, and you know why? Every. Single. Fucking. Plot beat. Was making it clear that a twist was waiting to happen. It was hardly even a surprise at the end! Could you imagine if the whole thing had been played straight right up until that revelation? Bam. Instant classic. Instead, we got, like, what, ninety minutes of winking and elbow-nudging like 'Aw shit, I bet a twist is coming any second now...' Ruined the whole fucking thing."

Another side-effect of being in Josh's quote-unquote inner circle: Sometimes the Psych 101 bullcrap rubbed off on you. Because of that, Ashley thought she could hear their real conversation, the true one, happening loud and clear, lost somewhere between the lines - "You doing okay?" "Nah, not really." "Want to talk about it?" "Nah, not really." "Is this about - " "You know what it's about." "What can I do?" "Help me not think about it. Just for a second. Just for a minute. Help me, help me, help me."

She could do that.

Ashley leaned forward until she rested with her arms on her desk and and head in her arms, the phone still tucked safely between her ear and shoulder. "How would you fix it then, Mr. Genius? Obviously you have some ideas."

"How would I fix it? How would I fix it? Ohoho, Ash, I don't think you know what sort of can of worms you just popped open...how much time you got?"

"For you?" she asked, closing her eyes again as she settled into the sound of his voice, pretending they both weren't fully aware tonight was the anniversary of the twins going missing. "All the time it takes, I guess."

[dyns33]

Mistake

I need to finish my Shane's era before jumping into a new one or back into an old one.

Judith didn't understand.

It was normal that Judith did not understand, since she was only six years old, and her parents had not explained everything to her.

The only thing she knew was that her mother had decided that she no longer wanted to live with her father, that she was filing for divorce, and that the little girl was going to have to live sometimes with one, sometimes with the other, but never again with both as before.

She hated her mother for that.

Y/N could have told her daughter the truth. She could have told her that after an argument, Shane had spent the night out, and when he finally came home, he told her that he had cheated on her.

The news was a shock. Like a slap in the face. Shane had never hit her, but that was as bad. Upset, hurt, furious, she did not want to listen to his excuses and explanations, yelling at him to leave, and immediately calling a lawyer.

It was what you had to do in these kinds of situations, everyone said it. Television, films, novels, experts. A man who cheated once would inevitably cheat again.

After eight years of marriage, Y/N never thought Shane would do this to her. She wondered if it was the first time, if he had hidden things from her, if he still loved her, if he had ever truly loved her…

She had loved him. She probably still loved him and that was why she suffered so much.

Y/N could have told Judith everything so that she would hate her less, and see that it was all her father's fault, but she couldn't. Shane had a lot of faults, but he was a great father, who adored his daughter, and who was adored by her.

“I want to be with daddy.”

"I know, darling. You'll see him next Sunday."

"No, I want to see him now. You're mean, I never want to see you again !"

“Honey, it’s complicated.”

It was complicated and hard. Even harder, because she didn't explain to anyone the reasons for her request for divorce. The other parents looked at her strangely in front of the school. People on the street or in the supermarket. Colleagues. The horrible woman who broke Sheriff Walsh's heart, the good Sheriff Walsh, who didn't deserve this.

Even her lawyer didn't have all the details. Far too involved in her desire for justice, but above all for money, she had advised Y/N to do everything possible to obtain sole custody of their daughter, and alimony. This would be easy with certain elements of bad behavior, including cheating.

Y/N didn’t want Shane’s money. She didn't want the house. She didn't want to take his daughter from him. No, she just didn't want to suffer anymore thinking about the moment he opened the door and told her what he had done.

Communication had never been her husband's strong point. He hadn't really appreciated her telling him to leave, but he had left anyway, and hadn't spoken to her since. She dropped Judith off at Rick and Lori's house, and she was going to pick her up there, without ever seeing him.

Messages were sent via their lawyers, nothing else.

It had been almost two months since the procedure had started when they found themselves before the judge. It could have been easy, quick, but Shane didn't like these things. He refused to sign the papers of a classic divorce. He seemed convinced that it was far too simple not to hide something.

"If you try to take my daughter to me, I swear you will regret it."

"Mr. Walsh, no threat." He ordered the judge to him.

"These are not threats. That she leaves, very well, but she will not take my daughter !"

"This is not what is planned." whispered Y/N without looking at him. "We will continue to have her for a week each, and there will be a schedule for the holidays …"

"This is not really what your lawyer said to mine. She made it clear that as a mother, it would be normal for you to get my daughter's guard. I have a better salary, the house is mine, I can take care of her ! "

"I never said …"

"You are often very busy with your work, Mr. Walsh." her lawyer said with a little sly smile.

"How dare you ?! I'm going to ask for exclusive custody, you will see ! Y/N, I won't let you take her !"

"If I wanted to take her from you, I only have to talk about your cheating ! You have to stop now, you have to …"

"What did you say, Madam Walsh ?" asked the judge to her.

Y/N suddenly felt very bad. She hadn't been sleeping for weeks. She was almost ate anymore. The few days she had with her daughter was hell. And now her future ex -husband was going to hate her forever, for a little sentence that she had not been able to hold back any longer.

"… No. No, nothing. I said nothing."

"You've been talking about cheating."

"No."

"It changes everything !" exclaimed her lawyer with triumph. "You have to add this element to the backrest !"

"No, I don't want that. No, no, no …"

Her last panic crisis dates back to high school. Even if it was quite distant, she remembered it well. It was difficult to completely forget this kind of crisis, when it seemed impossible each time to remember how to calm them.

At that moment, there was nothing more, her eyes filled with tears. The courtroom had disappeared, like the judge and the lawyers who were arguing. Maybe she was shaking but she was not sure. Her only certainty was that she couldn't breathe, despite all her efforts.

Then she felt something on her face, something warm, sweet. Reassuring. A voice called her, just as soft, patient.

"Look at me. Baby, look at me. Hush. Calm down. Breathe. Baby, Y/N, calm down."

Shane's hand caressed her cheek while he was repeating reassuring words again and again, asking her to breathe for him. He put his forehead on herswhile taking her hand, placing it on his chest, asking her to imitate him.

His big black eyes did not leave her for a second.

When her lungs finally agreed to work again, he kissed her quickly before returning to his seat. The judge decided that it was not possible to continue the session.

Y/N repeated to her lawyer that she absolutely did not want Shane's cheating to appear on the record. She sent an email to the judge telling him the same thing, asking him to let Shane see his daughter.

A response came the following week, after Judith suddenly changed her behavior, hugging her mother and asking if she wanted kisses to heal. Same thing for Lori or some parents, who had started to smile at her again and greet her like a normal human being.

When she opened the door, Y/N didn’t expect to see her husband. He still had his work clothes on, and he seemed embarrassed like the day he asked her out on their first date.

"… We can talk ?" he asked simply, rubbing his head.

"… Come in."

Nothing had changed in the house since he left. After all, it was his home as he had reminded her since the beginning of the proceedings, even if he agreed that she would stay there until they were officially divorced. But it was mostly because Y/N hadn’t been able to touch anything since that day.

She had been happy in this house, even if she couldn't sleep there anymore. Shane noticed the blanket on the couch.

“Is there a problem with the bed ?” he muttered.

“No, not with the bed.”

"Babe… Look, I know you asked the judge to disregard my infidelity. I… I know it was just your lawyer doing her job as a greedy bitch. I wanted to thank you."

"It's normal. I would never do that to you. I wouldn't take Judith from you."

“But you should !” he almost shouted, hitting the wall. "You should, after everything I've done ! I've been an asshole ! When I told Rick why we're getting divorced after all this time, he almost hit me. Lori hit me. They thought… I let everyone treat me like a victim, because I'm an asshole."

“Shane…”

"No, listen to me. Listen to me until the end this time. That night, I know we had an argument, even if I don't remember why…"

“We had to go to the lake.” she whispered.

"What ?"

"We had to go to the lake. It had been planned for months, Judith was delighted, and then you told me that it was not possible, because you had to work during the weekend."

This wasn't the first time Shane's schedule had disrupted their family's, and it had never been his fault. As a sheriff, he had obligations. Y/N knew it, she understood it.

But she had been disappointed. She had told him that she was disappointed, that their daughter would be disappointed, and Shane had reacted badly, tired from his long day and feeling attacked, criticized, for something that also disappointed him and for which he was not responsible.

"Shit, it's true… And I went to the bar. To that fucking bar. I drank again and again, too much, and the next day I woke up in a motel, with a girl… I had never seen her before, I don't even know her name. I don't even remember what we did, but it was obvious that I had made a huge mistake. So I went back to the house, and I did a second stupid thing."

"What ?"

"I told you everything. I could have said nothing, lived with it, and we would have been happily ever after, you would never have known. But I couldn't. So I told you, hoping you would understand that I didn't mean to do that, that I was really sorry, and that I would never do it again, but you kicked me out."

“Are you saying it’s my fault ?”

"No. I'm an asshole and I hurt you. I understand. I didn't want that, but I understand. It wasn't possible for me to lose you and lose Judith. I'm sorry, for everything."

Shane Walsh was many things, but he wasn't a liar. He had told her the truth about his cheating, and when he told her that he was sorry for this mistake that he didn't even remember having made after drinking liters of alcohol for a pointless argument, he was sincere. When he said he never intended to do anything like that again, he really meant it.

"I don't want to lose you, baby, I don't want…" he sobbed, reaching out to take her hands. "If you really want this divorce, okay. I'll sign, okay. But… If you agreed to give me a chance, just one small chance… I promise I'll never hurt you again. "

"… It's hard, Shane."

"Yes, I know."

"You don't know. You don't know, but I love you. We're going to need help, time, but… I don't want to lose you either."

He kissed her for what seemed like an eternity, only letting her go when he tried to do more and she gently pushed him away, telling him she wasn't ready yet.

Either way, he had to go. He had not finished his service. This surprised Y/N because his work was very important to him and he only came home when he was finished, or for an emergency. He told her this was an emergency, kissing her on the forehead before leaving.

Judith didn't really understand when these parents told her that they were no longer divorcing. Her father had explained to her that Mommy was hurt because he had done something horrible, that she was angry because he had no excuses, but that she had never wanted to make her suffer, so she had to be nice.

Now everything was better, and she still didn't understand anything, except that her parents weren't separating, and that they were going to continue living together, so she was very happy, jumping into their arms with a big smile.

[inscrutable-shadow]

hello... it is pumpkin.... military au brainrot... cal having to help than when his comm breaks. i just think cal's kind of a problem in therapy and he should be able to be nice to than outside of it :]

hi @write-kin! sorry for the long wait haha but i finally had an idea for something i wanted to say with this (unfortunately thanatos is yet again an asshole but subtly this time because he wants cal to like him lol)

"Sorry about this," Thanatos said with a laugh. There wasn't really much else he could do other than hover awkwardly while Cal did his work. It wasn't Than's fault the communicator was always broken. He just had the jumpiest, most volatile clients in the entire army, apparently. Whether it was Miguel slamming the table to scare him, one of Vic's surges, or an ordinary bit of clumsiness equally his fault as Mariano's, he just couldn't seem to keep the only real piece of army-issued equipment he had intact for longer than two weeks. (The record was actually thirteen days. He kept a counter in the corner of his desk calendar.) It seemed like the only one who hadn't broken his comm was Rex, and that was because they still had his sessions behind safety glass.

"N-no, it's all right," Cal assured him, glasses pushed high on his nose and pointedly avoiding eye contact. "These models can be finicky, the casings are too big for the internal housing and the wiring likes to come loose. It's no wonder a little fall off the desk is enough to… to break it…" The kid's voice had gained steam throughout his explanation, but at the end he seemed to remember that he was talking to Thanatos, the ex-war mage who was also his therapist, and lost his nerve.

"Still, I hate to trouble you, Calamine. I'm sure you have better places to be than in my office fixing my comm for the hundredth time." He got to his feet to pour himself another coffee, mostly as an excuse to get his hands out of line of sight. They tended to, if only subconsciously, unsettle non-war mages. Particularly the weak one, his left, which he dropped into his pocket out of reflex. He was always wary of people on the wrong side of his desk.

Cal shook his head. "Really, it's fine! See, it's fixed." He gave the comm a little shake, which, to Than's surprise, didn't produce a rattling noise of any kind. "I c-can't get you a newer model, but… mounting it on the desk might help. You'll still be able to pick it up, it'll just be harder to knock over. I can also add some stuff to make it harder to EMP and, well, spill coffee into."

Thanatos laughed again, that disarming smile coming easily to his face. "I could certainly use that. Thank you, Calamine. I truly appreciate it."

The praise had the desired effect; the apprehension in Cal's eyes shifted to shock, tentative hope, then admiration, and Thanatos hid his satisfied smile in his coffee mug. Too easy. "Uh, sure! Is there somewhere you'd like the mounting to be?"

Than's desk was meticulously organized. "This is where it usually sits." He indicated a spot near the right side of the desk, past his fountain pen set, where he could easily reach it with his good hand. He sometimes had trouble holding on to things with the other, so he tried to avoid picking up anything with it he couldn't afford to drop.

"Oh, that's awfully close to the edge. Probably why it keeps falling off." The comms tech frowned and scanned Thanatos's belongings with a furrowed brow. "If I install it over here, it'll be more out of the way." He indicated an empty spot near the wall on the left side of the desk.

Thanatos's smile took on an air of chagrin. "No, thank you, Calamine, the right side is fine." That spot was empty for a reason, after all.

"Are you sure? On this side, I could wire the base in with the rest of the comms and give you a way to use it without—"

"Cal."

Cal looked up, to where Thanatos, as he frequently did, was holding his left arm across his body, where the hand would be out of the way. "Oh, your— I'm sorry—"

Than laughed again. "Don't worry about it. I'll make do without the extra wiring. You're doing enough for me already."

The kid was about as pale as a person could be at this point. "I-I'll just… see if I can get materials for that then… sorry again, doctor…"

"You're perfectly all right. Thanks, Cal. I look forward to the improvements." He watched Cal scuttle away with a sigh and a smile. Kid was going places. Just needed to lose the social anxiety.

[another-whump-sideblog]

Hiya, how are you doing today?

1. "it's just a fucking [object of phobia/irrational fear], stop being so childish."l

2. caretaker has their own issues so whumpee's sometimes get swept under the rug

For the bad caretaker prompts, please and thank you!

Hi! My day’s been decent enough. I didn’t actually reblog the bad caretaker prompt list (you probably meant to send this to someone else lol), but I’ll do this anyway cause it’s fun and I always want prompts!

Caretaker has not slept in three days.

This, unfortunately, is not the first time, and it won't be the last. But it is the first time they've gotten this sleep-deprived since letting Whumpee move in.

Normally when things get this bad, Caretaker handles it on their own. They like handling it on their own, someone else helping just means needing to worry about making sure they feel like they're helpful on top of everything else. And they would be able to handle it on their own, if Whumpee could leave them alone for two goddamn seconds-

They had been getting a handle on managing full-time work and full-time school and their health and keeping their apartment clean and maintaining social connections and- that's it right? Yeah. They were getting a handle on it, they had a schedule that worked, they were fine, and then their sibling called them crying and begging for a place to stay after years of radio silence (they ghosted Caretaker, their own sibling, with no explanation whatsoever, who does that?) and how could they say no without feeling like a monster? They couldn't. So their schedule is all messed up, and sleep is always first on the chopping block when they need more time.

Something happened to Whumpee. Caretaker knows that. When they first picked up Whumpee they had to take them to the hospital instead of home like they planned because they were badly injured (which they should've mentioned in the phonecall). They have scars they didn't have before and they wake up screaming almost every night. And more than that, Caretaker sees how much quieter they are, how they sit statue still instead of fidgeting like they used to. Caretaker knows something happened, but it's really hard to care when they're freaking out over something like-

"It's just a fucking frying pan, stop being so childish! Why can't I even make some eggs without you freaking out?? Why does everything have to be about you!? I'm not going to hurt you! I've never hurt you! Stop treating me like I'm going to snap at any moment!"

Whumpee's pleading stops. They are so still and so quiet. Their eyes don't leave the frying pan.

Caretaker drops the frying pan and lets it clatter to the ground, making Whumpee flinch. "There are bigger problems in the world than fucking frying pans! I have a life, Whumpee! Fucking- stop it, I haven't done anything wrong!"

Whumpee's eyes are still on the fucking frying pan.

"Unbelievable. I've done so much for you, you don't get to treat me like some sort of monster!"

Whumpee stays still and silent and focused on the frying pan.

"Whatever. Come find me when you're ready to talk like an adult." Caretaker storms off to their room.

--

They wake up hours later. Fuck! They don't even remember going to sleep, and they're so behind on schoolwork-

But that'll have to wait. They groan into their pillow. Why did they say those things??

Whumpee isn't in the kitchen where Caretaker left them. Luckily, Caretaker knows their favorite hiding spots by now, and finds them huddled up in the coat closet.

Whumpee flinches when they open the door, then squeezes their eyes shut.

"Hey." Caretaker sits down next to them. "I'm not mad. I'm... sorry I flipped out earlier. Are you okay?"

Whumpee seems to think about their answer for a long time, then shrugs.

"It wasn't okay for me to say any of that stuff. I didn't mean it, I'm just- I just took a nap and that's the first time I've slept in three days, and I have so much stress right now- but that's not an excuse. Just- it wasn't really because of you. It was because of those things. And me not... handling them properly. So I'm really sorry."

Whumpee doesn't say anything.

"I just... I can't do this, Whumpee. I can't. I can't handle my job and school and myself and the apartment and you. I want to help. I love you so much, Whumpee, but I can't do this. I can't give up my sleep to comfort you after nightmares, I can't- I'm not kicking you out. I just... I need you to find someone else to go to. When I can't be there."

Whumpee nods. "...okay." Their voice is still too quiet, nothing like how they used to sound. "I understand. I'm sorry."

"No, no, you don't have anything to apologize for. It's... fine for you to freak out over small things. You can do that. I was- I got defensive- I felt like you were blaming me. But you weren't, I don't think, you were just... feeling scared. So you can feel scared or feel anything and I'll make sure to remember you can be scared or sad or anything and it doesn't mean you're blaming me just by feeling it. I just... can't always comfort you when that happens. When you freak out over small things. I need you to be able to comfort yourself or have someone to call."

"I wasn't blaming you." Whumpee confirms. "It honestly... has nothing to do with you, usually."

Caretaker laughs. "Right. Nothing to do with me."

"It'll be easier when I'm healed more. I can't do work or school for you, but I can help keep the apartment tidy."

"...yeah. That would be nice." Caretaker really doesn't want Whumpee to help them clean- Whumpee always does it wrong- but now doesn't seem like a good time for that discussion.

The two of them are quiet for a while, but neither of them get up to leave. They just sit with each other, hidden away in a coat closet. It doesn't take long for Caretaker to fall back asleep, and for Whumpee to drape some coats over them in a makeshift blanket.

[void-botanist]

I would love to know about the elbas sitcom AU (<- big sitcom enjoyer)

Tbh it wouldn't be that different from their actual lives, lol, just played up for comedy. Also this was such a fun response to write that I did not stop myself and I just kept inventing stuff.

A lot of these characters are discussed in this powerpoint post.

Some recurring bits:

No one can remember Casper's name even when he's standing in front of them, except Nidilaenn (his kid) and Vinnek. They all call him Pa (which they do IRL) or some random name ("he has a John face"). Regardless of whether he's there or not everyone is always talking about his whirlwind romance that took him out to the Vale and left them with one less prankster. You know he always returns for the solstice episode.

People go "where's Nidilaenn" and then we immediately cut to Nid in their boat. The funny part is where the boat is this time.

"El this might be easier if you don't get so frustrated" [Ellery turns back toward the camera with the nastiest look on his face] "I'm not frustrated"

There's always a new random nonroot staying at the Yellow House to witness the shenanigans and mostly laugh them off as "wow this island is weird haha"

The nonroot is also always shocked when they find out that they were not wrong, Madge is in fact twice her husband Rigo's age, and those ages are 120 and ~60.

Madge and Rigo are only on the island half the time. The other half they're traveling the mainland and getting called back to Elbas for increasingly ridiculous reasons. While they're away someone else has to care for the lighthouse (which is why IRL they don't actually travel that much).

Herric is always meddling in something. Frequently it has a butterfly effect, where they do something tiny like borrow Milo's butter and by the middle of the episode the island is in shambles.

Herric and Urielte are the "they should just be together" couple of the series, and to be honest they don't disagree (like if they just said "nah we're friends" people would drop it but they've never said that). However they do keep coming up with increasingly silly excuses for why they won't (the real reason is Herric doesn't want to have another breakup and Urielte just doesn't give a shit about formalities).

When someone needs information, Vinnek always has a book on that. Unless it's about legal histories or contract law, in which case Milo has a book on that.

Ysa sets the mood perfectly as a bartender but never serves alcohol. Thon keeps coming up with increasingly complex names for thons juice cocktails.

While working at the docks or the lighthouse Rigo has seen sea monsters of all kinds and just shrugs it off and goes back to his book.

Madge has a bike. The island is small. She tends to ride down the lighthouse hill into town but sometimes she rides into the sea instead (Rigo: [looks up] Madge: [rides right off the end of the dock] Rigo: [goes back to his book, then does a double take]).

This would make more sense in an anime but I thought it so I'm going to say it: sometimes Nid and El grab hands and go "because the power of friendship" with the dramatic eye shine and everything.

There are as many explanations as to why Rae is missing a leg as there are islanders. Even she doesn't give the same answer every time, but she always mentions the ankle bracelet she lost.

Some episode concepts:

Some nonroot comes to stay at the Yellow House and Tirias starts spending all her time with them. Ysa and Amadjes are like "you should branch out" and Tirias is like "noooo" and all bashful about it, because the reason she's hanging around them is because they understand her obsession with an extremely niche media property that no one else gets.

A nonroot can't tell the difference between Amadjes and their cousins Amelie, Aloysius, and Asteras and convinces them all to make increasingly strange fashion choices. For some reason their dad Emil was off-island when this happens and upon his return he can't tell them apart because of the fashion.

Milo's parents Marietta and Tem come to visit and it's a series of humorously awkward interactions between Milo & Herric and Marietta & Tem, to the point that Herric will say something like "what the fuck" to Marietta (their kid) and then immediately turn to Tem and say "I find this somewhat confusing". When Milo mentions Tem to the Council they all offer their own advice: Ellery talks about not getting frustrated, Nid wants to formulate a strategy based on who swept who off their feet, Patience suggests getting kombucha-drunk with them, Tirias says to look for their passion. Somehow all of these become relevant over the course of their relationship-building.

Someone discovers that "the reason" Herric and Urielte won't officially get together is because they don't want to move into each other's houses. So they orchestrate moving one to the other, then vice versa, then into a separate third house, and it all goes really badly and they have to be moved back.

After the previous episode, Herric's ex-wife and estranged son return to demand something from them, probably money- and/or goods-related. Herric ends up moving in and/or getting the equivalent of a Vegas marriage with Urielte to fend her off. Everyone is disappointed when they ultimately undo it all.

Binna's launch is approaching and Milo is just trying to enjoy spending time with her but everywhere he goes are just silly reminders that she's leaving ("that weirdly suggestive calendar has a rocket in it!").

Patience's teenage grandkids come to visit and everyone is super impressed by them because uep twins are rare. They use this to their advantage. Everyone also wonders whether Patience knows what's going on, because of course they pull the most nonsense when she's not around, but she knows exactly and she thinks it's incredibly funny to play the doddering old lady.

Rae gets into a dispute with the owner of the Evly radio station she runs a weekly music show on. Madge (her sister) and Tirias (who regularly plays on the show and also has technical knowledge) decide to team up and start an Elbas radio station. This turns out to be a lot harder than they expect. It would be fun if they managed it though because then we could have a radio station set.

The port authority of Port Danziger, which is several hundred miles away on the mainland, approaches the Council and suggests they pay for docking rights even though that doesn't make any logistical sense. Nidilaenn sets out to discover whether it really is that far to sail (answer: yes) and encounters a variety of nonsense situations on the way.

A new arrival asks about Rae's leg. She says it was a sea monster. We then discover that the sea monsters only Rigo seems to notice are in fact real, but don't really hang around the island because there's not much meat there. The new arrival does not succeed in locating Rae's fabled ankle bracelet.

Following the previous episode, a human sneaks meat onto the island, which causes a massive uptick in sea monster activity. Something something an entire suitcase getting dramatically thrown into the ocean. NO MEAT ALLOWED goes unexplained into the visitor rules and the mainland press has a field day with it.

Casper returns for the solstice episode without his wife (the one who swept him off his feet and caused him to move away). He says it's because he wanted to spend time with Nid, but Nid becomes increasingly suspicious that something is off. They get sent on a wild goose chase wondering if Casper ever even got married only to discover that their stepmom was late because she was bringing a surprise for them.

Vinnek gets haunted by the ghost of Fira past, and while the moral of the episode is that they have to remember the good times they had with Fira and stop getting on the network to listlessly search for Fira, there's a lot of snarky humor on the way. Depending on when this takes place, there will also be the ghost of Casper past (not intentionally a reference lol the importance is that Casper was and is a good friend of Vinnek's who also left the island) and potentially the ghost of Dez past (another friend who left).

A paranormal investigator shows up and insists the lighthouse is haunted. Everyone says no, the lighthouse is not haunted. Eventually the investigator turns out to be right, though the spirits haunting the lighthouse are just chilling and that's why no one thought it was haunted.

Rae, Tirias, and Ysa team up to turn the pub into a club for Jes's birthday, with the heavy bass he so loves (he's deaf). Unfortunately they instead succeed at blowing out Ysa's custom skylight and invoking the ire of Ellery, one of the few people on the island who has ever been to a club. In the course of putting in a new skylight they hatch a better plan: a sort of silent disco-esque setup where they will not shatter the skylight a second time.

For some reason Haskell has to leave the island for a bit and asks Nid and El, who have been considering having kids for a while, if they would watch Lacey. I feel like everything that happens after that is just par for the course for having a 4 year old around but still it seems like even Nid will have changed their mind about kids. When Haskell gets back and is like "haha hope that didn't put you off of sprouting" the two of them are like "nah. we'll survive it with the power of friendship" with the whole solidarity clasp and everything. Then the shine fades and they say, "in five more years maybe".

Tirias becomes obsessed with a wedding shoot he found on the network and starts bothering Ysa and Jes about it. They misunderstand and think what he wants is to get married when in actuality he just wants to have an event for wearing a princess dress. By the time they get on the same page Ysa and Tirias are practically standing at the altar (I don't actually know how Elbas weddings work but you get the idea). But in the end Tirias gets what he wants and they don't actually get married...probably.

I think there should be a season devoted to Dez being there too, with episodes such as:

The rootspace episode, where Dez figures out how to decode the chemical messages of rootspace and becomes obsessed with sharing rootspace with people ("for the love of god Dez PLEASE use your words I'm tired").

The radio show episode, where Dez becomes the synth.

The toilet humor episode, where Dez discovers that one of Elbas's imports is literal shit, which goes into the dirt beds they root into at night. Have I mentioned Dez doesn't really get toilet humor? Uep and neriem, however, do on some level, even though that's not how their digestive systems work.

The laugh scale episode, where Dez notices that making serious Milo laugh is a particular point of pride among the Council. The Council in turn notices that Dez has never once laughed and try to figure out what would make him do so. 50/50 chance they either realize he can't/doesn't laugh OR some random apparently nonhumorous thing happens at the end of the episode and Dez snickers, which is enough of a laugh to celebrate.

The prank episode, where Dez takes the role of the answering machine that has a bunch of snippets of someone's voice to remix except he has extensive recordings of most islanders, which makes it extra fun. He starts pranking people with Nid but as people discover the prank they join in, and after a few days everyone on the island is in on the prank and there's no one left to bother. But then Casper shows up.

[kpopimagi]

A Flower Under The Rain [Part 4]

Characters: Baekhyun, Kyungsoo and Kang Gyuri (OC) Genre: Angst, Romance Au: Hanahaki!Au  Type: Series  Word count: 6,503

It all began with a cough and then, a subtle sting in her chest. Kang Gyuri cried, knowing that in a matter of months, she would be another figure in the death toll of the most dangerous and cruelest outbreak in human history.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8-1

“Why are you so…annoying!?” She grunted, “How many times do I have to repeat myself?”

Gyuri groaned, kicking the air under her desk and almost pulling her hair out in frustration. Taking a deep breath, cracking her knuckles, and focusing herself back on the task, Gyuri read the string of complaining messages once again. She set herself to explain the client the same thing again for what it felt, the trillionth time.

A few years back, her father settled a small room of their house as her work office, and that was the most excited she had seen him. He took the project to set up that space to her liking very seriously. Her father went from being a painter to a craftsman. He also repaired any electricity issues or whatever she needed him to fix to make that room the most comfortable home office in the world. Gyuri never missed the chance to shower him with praises. However, sometimes even the familiarity of her safe space wasn't enough to fight back the stress of dealing with other human beings.

Despite her explanations, the client started complaining again. She deflated on her seat, wondering if she could just curse at him. Gyuri was pondering the possibility of doing it and getting a complaint about her performance because, at this point, she didn’t care anymore. She had been logged in the session with him for almost 3 hours and yet, didn't make any progress. For the last two years, the man kept demanding upgrades on his website way above the budget of what his basic package could cover. In all that time, whenever he requested to talk to her, Gyuri could not make him understand that.

Looking at the clock on the other side of the room, she just tried to calm herself down. She was lucky enough to have supervisors that weren’t that strict overall. They didn't care that much about her office hours as long as she covered a 40-hour quota every week, although she set herself a clocking in time. Some days, depending on her mood, she stayed in her pajamas all day, but most of the time, she changed her clothes. It didn’t really matter to anyone, but somehow, it gave her some sense of belonging. It made her feel like she was a functional nine-to-five office worker.

It was pouring down outside, she hadn't realized. The sky was grey, the temperature kept dropping, and Gyuri made a decision. She closed all the tabs and programs and signed out without even saying goodbye to the client. Her temples and the back of her head pulsed in an imminent headache, and just a minute later, her work phone started whirring on her desk. She didn’t have to look at the screen to know the client was calling her. She let it buzz like always until it stopped, and when she grabbed it, it was to find another missed call from the nine the same client had made on that day.

Letting out a tired sigh at his obnoxiousness and insistence to talk to her, but Gyuri never talked to clients. She avoided it at all costs, but she texted the man nonetheless, apologizing for going offline so suddenly. She excused herself, saying it was due to a power outage. Rolling her eyes at the new string of messages, she assured him that she would keep working on his website as soon as she had power again. That was obviously a lie, but he did not need to know that.

Gyuri simply turned off the phone and practically leaped out of her seat to get ready. The gloomy weather looked like the perfect chance to lift her spirit, relax a little, and be done for the rest of the day, and she lost no time to put her favorite raincoat on. Once zipped up, she twisted her body left to right, rubbing her arms on the sides of her body. She loved the swish-swish sound the fabric produced whenever she did it and made her squeal a little in happiness. Without fail, finally wearing one of her favorite pieces of clothing always filled her heart with joy.

She tried to wear her raincoat as regularly as possible. It was bright green if you look at it from an angle. If you look at it from a different one, it glimmered blue, and sometimes you could see purple gleams, and some other times, yellow ones, and the more she moved, the crazier the colors were. Somehow, Gyuri still had it hard to believe she had something as fashionable as an iridescent raincoat. That simple garment was too hip and high-end for her. It definitely wasn’t something she would wear, but it was the kind of crazy colors she liked and wished she was edgy enough to wear more often. 

Gyuri grabbed her rain boots, her purse with her phone, wallet, a simple lip balm, and the tin can with just a couple of candies left in it, and that was it. She thought about taking her watch as well, but the pouring rain was pleasant and soothing enough that she considered there was no need for it.

“I’m going out mom!” She yelled, skipping down the stairs, carrying her rain boots, and heading out when she heard her mother hurrying up to her.

“Where are you going?”

“To get some coffee.” She replied, grunting as she pushed one foot into the boot, “Maybe even go to the bookstore.”

“Do you have money?” Her mother asked, already pulling her coin purse out.

She meant to argue. She didn’t need her mother to give her pocket money to go out, but when Gyuri looked at her, she seemed to be out of herself. Whatever made her mother hesitate, she brushed it off as fast as she could, cleared her throat, and pulled a couple of checks off her purse.

“Here, get yourself a nice dessert. Something really sweet.” She said, but Gyuri noticed the frailty in her voice.

Her mother slipped the checks in one of the pockets of her raincoat. Before Gyuri could say anything, she walked away to the kitchen, leaving her at the entrance, completely taken aback. 

After the dreadful day of the news, the mood at home calmed down to a certain degree. Although they didn’t openly talk about her problem, Gyuri noticed the sadness and apprehension in how her parents handled themselves around her. Whereas her mother kept cooking, making all of her favorite dishes, and randomly giving her pocket money. Her father’s grieving process was a lot more heartbreaking.

It had been only a week, and she couldn’t dismiss it anymore. Her father would come into her room after dinner and just sit down and talk to her. He’d bring out a random topic he read in the newspaper or something that happened at work, and just like that, they would jump from one subject to another. The discussions always went from a well-articulated debate on social media regulations to laughing at some silly meme he asked her to explain. Every single time, their conversations came to an end in the same way, and that was with her laughing.

“You must be tired.” He’d say, after a while and before pressing a soft kiss on her forehead, “Have a goodnight, pumpkin.”

Her father would leave with a forced smile on his face, and Gyuri pretended she couldn’t hear him break down outside the room even if it crushed her heart every single time it happened.

Gyuri never mentioned anything to them, and she knew they didn’t mean to overwhelm her with the attention, but there was so much she could handle before feeling like she was going to explode. When the weather decided to mirror the heaviness in her heart, she couldn’t help but go out and try to make the most out of it.

The bus ride to her favorite coffee shop was almost uneventful until she felt her phone buzzing and her mood sank when she saw a new text from Baekhyun. She ignored it, burying the phone deep in her purse, but found it impossible not to think about it for the rest of the ride. No matter how much she tried to focus on anything other than him, he remained on her thoughts.

It seemed like Baekhyun gave up on his efforts to find out what was going on with her, which she was mildly grateful for. A week later, apart from the usual texts he sent her to share his favorite memes or a new favorite song, nothing much happened at that end. However, their weekly hangout coming was enough to make her a bundle of nerves, and she couldn’t formulate a plan to skip it without making him suspicious.

Arriving at the bus stop a few minutes later, Gyuri jumped out to the rain, and the rhythmic pitter-patter of the raindrops against the hood of her raincoat made her so happy. She had it almost impossible to stop a smile from spreading across her face.

She liked the rain. 

Most of the time, Gyuri felt guilty for finding it amusing when she saw people struggling with their umbrellas. Somehow, it cheered her up. The rain also made people quiet. When everybody was immersed in their rush to locate some shelter and avoid the chaos, Gyuri always found herself pleasantly lost in its music. When most people ran away from it, she embraced the stillness and the peace. The rain muted every scary noise and stopped people from forcing her to talk.

The rain granted her the possibility to be out there, feeling carefree and alive. It allowed her to hum to herself without worrying if anyone could hear her voice, jump into puddles, feel her nose getting cold, and her fingertips numb. 

She lived for rainy days.

Immersed in looking down to the ground and the satisfying and perfectly chaotic patterns of the raindrop splatters and ripples on the floor, Gyuri's happy self-absorption came to a stop. She bumped against a body, making her step back in surprise. 

“Sorry.” 

She heard at the same time she mumbled her apology, but even the music of rain was a lull in comparison to his soft voice. Gyuri looked up to find the ciabatta man, staring at her just as surprised as she was. However, the first thing she noticed was that his eyes under his black cap had a sad glint to them. What were the odds of running into him in such a big city?

“How are you feeling?” He asked, showing a very tiny hint of a smile.

Gyuri was not sure. She was happy for the time being in that exact moment under the rain but thinking on something further than her immediate mood felt treacherous. She didn't bother to give him more than a shrug. 

“Do you want a coffee?” She said instead, trying to ignore her looming anguish.

He helped her. He essentially saved her life and stayed with her when she felt desolated. Gyuri owed it to him, but she didn't know how to repay such kindness. A cup of coffee had to do for now.

“I was on my way to get one, actually.” He said, and his small smile got wider. “Do you mind?”

The ciabatta man pointed out somewhere in the opposite direction of where she was walking to, and Gyuri found herself gladly turning around and joining him on his way to the coffee shop. That simple action felt liberating somehow, and she genuinely smiled for the first time, probably since the diagnosis, and that felt invariably better. She even felt comfortable enough to let out a chuckle when he arranged his umbrella to cover her as well, despite her having her raincoat on.

“I've realized that you're still a stranger.” She said after the first block of a silent walk.

“Do Kyungsoo.” He said unceremoniously, and even his name, with that deep voice of his, had a nice ring to it, “What about you? You're also still a stranger.”

“Kang Gyuri.”

“Nice to meet you.” He replied.

After the polite and discrete introductions, they kept walking side by side in a comfortable silence under the rain. Somehow and out of nowhere, Gyuri had the urge to explain herself to the considerate stranger. 

“About the other day, he wasn't lying.” Gyuri started, focusing herself on the curtains of rain falling in the street, “I don't have any friends.” 

Gyuri never thought that saying that out loud would have such an effect on her. It was a sad admission. She always pretended it didn’t bother her, but it did. She did not have friends. The only one she got was going to be the cause of her death.

“I have problems talking to people.” She admitted with a sigh.

“You don’t seem to have problems talking to me.” He pointed out, and Gyuri had to agree.

She looked at him, wondering how on earth was so easy to articulate words in front of him. His proximity felt comfortable, and the noticeable lack of judgment in his eyes was reassuring.

He grabbed her hand, and she noticed right away that her nails were different. The pinkish and natural tone of her skin was suddenly tinted with a yellowish tinge. Red swirls spotted them and looked like blood bruises under her fingernails, making her hands look sick.

Gyuri realized then why her mother faltered earlier that day. Bringing her hands closer to her face, she had to come to terms that her body was finally outwardly caving into the disease. 

“At least they aren't fuchsia.” He grumbled, and Gyuri couldn’t hold the snort that came from the bottom of her chest.

“Your nails were bright pink?” She asked, amused just to imagine him with bright-colored fingernails.

“Do you want to get them done?” He said, looking over his shoulder to a nail salon across the street, “I painted mine when the bruising showed up.”

“I would never guess you as someone so versed on the subject.” She said, and her comment was received with a small and lopsided smile, “What color did you use?”

“Nude.”

“Of course.” Gyuri chuckled, “I’ve never gotten my nails done before so I guess I can go wild for once.”

With a nod and without letting her hand go, Kyungsoo pulled her forward to cross the street. Once on the other side and as he held her hand, Gyuri openly stared at him, unable to utter a word. He should have let her hand go already. Although he didn't, the warmth of his skin was so pleasantly comfortable around her numb fingers that she simply tightened her hold onto it. 

They came into the small salon, and she stood still at the entrance, waiting for Kyungsoo to manage his umbrella. Her eyes wandered around the place to find a spot to hang her raincoat dripping with water when she was welcomed by a lady. She had such a kind and wrinkled smile that Gyuri found so heartwarming, and that was already prodding her to a rack where she could leave her coat.

“Good evening,” Kyungsoo greeted once he settled his umbrella in a corner, “We don’t have an appointment.” 

“Oh don’t worry,” the woman smiled, offering them both to sit, “my next two appointments have been canceled because of the rain.”

Without even realizing how easy and fast everything was happening, Gyuri was suddenly seated in front of the lady. She placed her hands over the table, and it didn't occur to her that her hands might be ugly or weird, but the woman paused when she saw them. She had seen sick hands before, and it showed in her reaction. The lady got over it quickly and placed a gentle hand on top of hers, in a comforting way Gyuri found quite soothing. 

“What color would you like?” She asked.

Gyuri let out a tiny squeak. She hadn't even assimilated the situation she was suddenly in, let alone make a decision so fast. She could go safe and do the same as Kyungsoo. She could get her nails nude and plain, but something tiny in her head screamed at her. Gyuri felt suddenly bold.

“Like your raincoat?” The woman asked when Gyuri looked over her shoulder to observe her coat hanging by the entrance, and she nodded, “Nice choice!”

The woman smiled brightly at the garment and was genuinely excited to get everything ready. In less than an hour, Gyuri was walking out of the salon with her hands upright. She stared at the iridescent gradient on her nails as her fingers seemed to sparkle with glimmers of green, blue, and purple just like she wanted. Gyuri couldn’t believe just how pretty her hands looked.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” Kyungsoo asked as he walked by her side, still holding the umbrella for her.

“I work from home.” She replied mindlessly and absorbed with her new nails, “I needed a break.”

“What do you do?”

“Tech support. I’m a web developer.” She mumbled, “What about you?”

“I'm unemployed.”

She stumbled, forgetting about her nails for a second, and stared at him dumbfounded. Gyuri quite shamelessly scanned him from head to toe and was about to point out that he didn’t dress like an unemployed person. However, she looked at him better and had to reconsider her first impression. His style consisted of black trainers, simple jeans, a black jacket, a black cap, and nothing else.

“It’s by choice.” He chuckled, catching her in the middle of her not-so-subtle inspection, “I also needed a break.”

“That's good,” Gyuri said, ignoring the embarrassment of getting caught and wishing that he wouldn't believe she was that bold, “By the way, where did you get the candies? I'm running out of them already.”

“I can take you there, it's not that far.” 

***

“How much should I take?” Gyuri asked, weighing candy sacks in each hand. 

Just like Kyungsoo said, the candy shop was a few blocks away from where they were. But what felt beyond anything she could imagine was that Gyuri was practically spending the evening with a man she just met. Granted, they both seemed comfortable in spending that time in silence and if he ever decided to start a conversation, she found it easy to engage with him.

They were at the candy shop, and Gyuri was over the moon with the number of designs, shapes, and flavors they had; and she couldn’t make her mind of what to buy. She observed that Kyungsoo was capable of entertaining himself just by looking around and time to time, suggested to her to try something.

“How long did it take you to go through one of these?” She asked again, pondering if buying such a big sack of rock-hard licorice-flavored candies was just too much.

“A couple of days.” He answered softly and stood next to her without being able to hide the gloom in his face.

“That’s a lot of candies…” Gyuri muttered, suddenly worried and the bags that didn't feel as heavy, in a blink of an eye, were a lot lighter, “How many do you get now?”

“I don’t.” 

Gyuri let out a sound. Of course, he wouldn’t if he had survived the disease already. He didn’t need them to grasp to the least possible hint of relief anymore. He was free of relying on such tiny things to stay alive. She felt, even if it was faint at first, a wave of despair ready to take over her but was determined that she had to try and push it back for as long as she could. Or at the very least, keep it at bay while she was still with Kyungsoo. Gyuri kept her mind on the trail of the task and asked the employee for two sacks of candies, one with fruit designs and the other with cutesy and adorable drawings of dragonflies.

“If you don’t need them then why do you still carry them around?” She asked discreetly as they both watched the employee add more and more colorful candies to the scale.

“Sense of security,” Kyungsoo added just as softly.

She couldn’t blame him. She had felt it too. She felt the safety all over her body just by knowing she had that small tin can in her purse and the sensation of almost instant ease when she put the candies in her mouth.

“May I ask something?” She said, gathering all of her bravery, “Did you survive the disease?”

Kyungsoo froze on his spot. She saw his jaw clench and going rigid as if the simple question was painful and unrequited. For an instant, Gyuri started to regret it and nagged herself for the intrusion. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He said under his breath, stepping away from her, “Not here, at least.”

It was hard to gather if the question offended him somehow but Kyungsoo left the store and waited for her outside, and when she came out, they resumed their walk to the coffee shop in silence. If Gyuri had any other questions, his reaction made her reevaluate her approach. The last thing she wanted was to upset the only person in the world that fully understood her situation but also seemed willing to help her out.

“Screw it,” she muttered to herself, skipping forward, “What do I have to lose anyway?”

Decided and determined, Gyuri saw the small pools of water on a set of stairs in front of them. With a sudden surge of audacity, she ran down into them, splashing water around her. She felt her cheeks burning and a tiny hint of embarrassment coming over her, but it wasn’t nearly as mortifying as she thought it would be. Maybe that was what being outgoing was all about; just going for it no matter how scary it was just to see that it was not as bad.

She looked over her shoulder and found Kyungsoo standing at the top of the stairs, observing her silently. Nothing was showing on his face but a complete and perfectly blank expression. 

“What’s the point of having rain boots if you’re not going to jump into puddles?” She added, trying to ignore the self-consciousness as she concentrated on showing her boots to him.

“Cute,” He added as he walked down the stairs with a smile that Gyuri was sure had finally reached his eyes. “I like your raincoat.”

“I love it,” she agreed, grinning as she moved her arms around so the colors and the swish-swish sound of the fabric would change with her movements, “I’m like a dragonfly.”

A deep laugh drew her attention off her silly dance. The sound was so soft, short, and yet so deep and so genuine, it felt so distinctive of Kyungsoo. She was so engrossed staring at his adorable and round face scrunched in an entertained laugh that she found interesting the expression just lasted for a couple of seconds. 

“What?” She asked, slightly taken aback when he joined her.

“It suits you.” He added, giving her a beautiful and easy smile that confused her before he walked away.

Snapping herself from the daze, Gyuri caught up with him, lost in her memories. Back then, Baekhyun made a face when she showed him the iridescent raincoat on the shop's display window. She remembered his expression vividly and his lack of comments when she tried the coat on before buying it. He didn't say anything mean about how she looked with it, but also, nothing good, and right next to her was someone that happened to find her cute making a fool of herself with it.

A few blocks later, they arrived at the coffee shop, and they went in. Gyuri approached the counter only to stagger back a little when she realized that Kyungsoo was behind her, looking at the menu from a distance.

“What do you want?” He asked when she joined him and let a couple go first and order before them.

“I’ve never come here so I wouldn’t know…” She wondered, reading the menu, “What’s good?”

“Everything.” He replied, glaring and then squinting at the menu board, “Although chocolate is their specialty, they bring it from Mexico. It’s really good.”

“Hot chocolate then.” 

“Dessert?”

“Will you be getting anything?” Gyuri asked, approaching the counter to get a better look at the cakes, and Kyungsoo followed her.

“Same as you.” He said as they read the dessert menu together.

“The cheesecake looks good.” She pointed out the gigantic slice of cheesecake behind the glass, and with a nod, Kyungsoo went to the checkout to order.

Gyuri watched him approach the employee at the counter. She simply stared at his back as he paid and weirded out about the whole exchange. She started to wonder what kind of power and charm he had that she didn’t freak out like she would have whenever she visited a new establishment.

As if realizing that she was in an unfamiliar place full of noisy people, Gyuri looked around, and she just knew. She was convinced that the stares and whispers weren’t real. She was aware that her mind tended to play tricks on her when she was in public and made it feel like every rude glance and every conversation was about her. However, she struggled to convince herself that the prettiest girl behind the bar wasn’t judging her from afar.

Another employee whispered to the pretty girl as they gave glances at Gyuri's general direction. After that, she couldn’t just find a reason good enough to ignore them. They were positively talking about her. In a lame effort to shield herself from their judgy glares, slowly and as unsuspectedly as she could, Gyuri hid behind a column and patiently waited for Kyungsoo.

He was back in no time with a vibrating pager in his hands, and almost sighing out in relief, she followed him further into the shop to find a place to sit. She observed him as they waited and tried to come up with a sensitive plan to approach the subject again. However, as much as she focused her mind only on him, the attractive employee behind the counter with pale skin and pitch-black hair kept capturing her attention.

“What?” Kyungsoo asked, looking over his shoulder, following her gaze.

“I was just thinking. That girl over there.” She said absently, prodding her head to the pretty girl, “Isn’t she gorgeous?” 

Noticing the sudden attention from her and Kyungsoo, the girl seemed to be caught off guard and ducked behind the counter. Gyuri snorted at her reaction, sometimes her mind didn't play tricks on her, and they did judge her.

“Do you like girls?” Kyungsoo asked, bringing her back to the conversation at hand.

“Most unlikely, I like Baekhyun and I know for a fact that Baekhyun is a man, so…” She admitted. It took her a couple of seconds to realize what just came out of her mouth, “Don’t get any weird ideas.”

For some reason, that only made Kyungsoo find her slip even funnier. His cheeks went up in a conceited chuckle that totally meant he was indeed thinking the worst of her.

“I’m just certain he has a...” She added, “...a penis.”

Gyuri felt her face flaring in embarrassment as she tried to fix her blunder. But the longer she kept talking, the worse everything sounded, and Kyungsoo finally cackled, thoroughly amused. His shoulders even moved in restrained laughter.

“Don’t. Do not be a perv,” Gyuri warned, thinking as fast as she could to explain her poor choice of words as she raised the vibrating pager at him. “He fell asleep watching a movie, he was wearing sweatpants and he got it hard in his sleep. That’s it.”

He laughed again, and the deep timbre of his voice came out just as soft and short as the first time, and any trace of embarrassment vanished almost instantly. Gyuri simply watched him sitting there, chuckling softly and unbothered as the tips of his ears peeked out of his cap with an unusual red tint. 

It was an amusing incident indeed. Gyuri was grateful that Kyungsoo took it as such but remembered why she kept that particular memory buried deep, deep, and hidden inside her. Almost instantly, every single and dangerous thought came to the surface of her heart with all of its power. Despite all of her efforts for months, she just couldn't ignore them anymore.

“From that day on, I started to wonder what it would be like to…you know,” She mumbled, unsettled to admit it out loud.

“Sleep with him?” Kyungsoo asked, completing the sentence for her, and she had no other choice but to agree.

Gyuri felt the weight of that confession instantly, and the implications of accepting that her body desired her best friend in a very lustful way crushed everything she believed in. It was humiliating to acknowledge that she was that weak. It felt like a joke that something as natural a sex could weigh that much on her feelings for Baekhyun that she had to hold her head, afraid of it splitting in half out of frustration.

Kyungsoo wasn’t laughing anymore. She couldn’t sense him moving, but she was too flustered and embarrassed to even open her eyes and let their gazes meet. There was so much judgment she could take in a day, and seeing it in his eyes, would nudge her off control. 

“You love him and everything about him,” He assured, “never be ashamed of that.”

Gyuri sat up straight and just gaped at the guy seated in front of her. Kyungsoo wasn't even talking directly to her. He had his eyes lost in the pouring rain outside the coffee shop, but there was a tiny trace of remorse in his voice. One thing she could tell was that the guy delivering those words wasn’t only the ciabatta man that selflessly helped her out but a Hanahaki Disease survivor.

“Did you get the curse because you...” She intended to ask but hesitated when he looked at her, attentively, “...you slept with her?”

“I don’t think it works that way with sex but I bet it is just as dangerous.” He said, “Have the two of you…” 

Gyuri shook her head instantly and almost furiously at the prospect of getting intimate with Baekhyun. She could feel her cheeks blushing just to think about it, even if she couldn't afford to let her imagination wander in that scenario.

“He’s my best friend and my social skills are close to nonexistent.” She explained with a shrug, “This is the closest I’ve ever been to a date.”

“A date?”

Gyuri panicked and looked at him when she heard him, barely aware that she was the one that said that particular word first and he was just repeating it. As if on cue and saved by the bell, quite literally, the pager started buzzing loudly over the table. Kyungsoo left to pick their order up, giving her the time to calm her nerves and remind herself to control her mouth.

She did not have much to do to distract herself. Gyuri overheard the couple that came in after them, sitting a couple of tables away. By the tone in their voices, she could assume the argument was nowhere close to being solved. Thankfully, Kyungsoo was back, carrying a tray with their drinks and a massive slice of cheesecake decorated with ice cream, strawberries, and whipped cream.

“Is it true then?” She asked again as they dug into the cake at the same time, “Did you beat the curse?”

“I think so.” He said before getting the first mouthful.

“How did you do it?”

“I'm not entirely sure.” He started, chuckling when she grabbed a huge chunk of cake, “I was just waiting for it to happen but then I realized she wouldn't care any less if I died for her. She would not shed a tear for me.”

“Was she mean to you?” She asked, and Kyungsoo shook his head.

“She didn’t even know my name.”

Gyuri halted. As if what he said meant nothing, Kyungsoo took his chance to take a piece of cake to his mouth, and she couldn't bring herself to say anything. She felt guilty because at least Baekhyun was close to her. At least he knew her well and would care enormously if she just dropped dead one day.

“What happened then?” She asked, not sure if it was alright to keep going.

“I guess it was the anger.” Kyungsoo proceeded, placing his spoon down and nudging the rest of the cake to her, “I was angry at her and my strong feelings for her so I started letting it all out.”

Getting startled by another nudge of the plate, Gyuri got another spoonful of the cake as Kyungsoo leaned back on his chair. He seemed to get himself comfortable despite the nature of their conversation.

“I let my hatred for her take over every other feeling.” He explained, looking at her straight into her eyes, “At some point, I even wished she could be dead and when she did die a few years ago, I felt nothing.” Suddenly, the cheesecake lost its appeal. Gyuri couldn't find it in herself to eat more, especially when Kyungsoo kept sharing his story. “At first I thought there was something wrong with me so I went to the funeral house and I wasn't even sad. I should have died of heartbreak right then and there but I didn't. I suppose, replacing that blind love with something equally strong is the answer but I can not be certain.”

“But I can't hate Baekhyun.” Gyuri admittedly said, breathing out in resignation, genuinely considering the idea, “As annoying and clingy as he can be, I can’t just hate him one day. He would be pestering me the moment I start to get myself distanced from him. He will notice something is wrong, and...”

A glass broke.

It all happened before any of them could react.

There was a whimper and a scream. People gasped. There were several screams, more astonishing gasps, and curses. Then there was a cry, and Gyuri heard it all. She saw it happen right in front of her. She saw the tears and a pair of hands begging, but her eyes were glued to the flower petals falling to the floor. Her attention was on the man dropping into his knees, clutching his chest in pain. She could hear the woman’s cries as she covered her nose and stepped away from him, and yet, her eyes could only see the pastel pink flower petals falling from his mouth. But everything turned into chaos when the sound of cracking bones resonated through the air.

The man’s back broke. He twisted in pain, screaming at the air above him and piercing everyone's ears with his agony as his eyes widened out in terror. His body trembled violently once again, and to everyone’s shock, they all saw the roots taking over the skin of his neck. His screaming was cut off by the gagging, and Gyuri heard herself whimper at the sight of something crawling out from his mouth.

“Don’t look.” She heard Kyungsoo whisper, and everything blacked out. 

Her eyes were covered, and the familiar safety of his hold shifted her around as she cried. Gyuri was aware that she was walking and that her body barely managed to stay upright. Kyungsoo kept whispering to her ear as he pressed her head into his chest and his arms held her tremblingly figure.

“That’s what is going to happen to me?” She asked, gasping for air. "That will happen to me?"

Gyuri felt her body falling, only to find herself sitting down with Kyungsoo's help. She was crying, or so she thought because a gust of freshness and humidity hit her face, and when she opened her eyes, she realized they were out of the coffee shop. 

“Breath, Gyuri,” Kyungsoo ordered, kneeling in front of her and taking the cap off so she could see his face, “What do you need?”

“My watch.” She cried, gasping for air and rubbing a hand over her naked wrist, “I forgot my watch.”

“Would my watch work?” He asked, showing his wrist to her.

Gyuri’s mind instantly gave her a hundred reasons why it wouldn’t work. The rim of Kyungsoo's watch was too thick, and the border was sharper than the rounded and worn edges of her watch. His was wider than hers. It even looked heavier than hers. However, she knew it was imperative to calm herself down before falling into a full-blown panic attack, so she forced her body and nodded.

Without any hesitation, Kyungsoo took his watch off and put it on her wrist. He placed her other hand on top of it and stayed there, in front of her, waiting patiently.

“Gyuri, you have a watch now.” He reminded her when it looked like she forgot how to breathe for a second, “what do you do with it?”

“I count.” She cried.

That was right. Gyuri needed to count for the exercise to work, and just by saying it out loud somehow set her brain to focus on the next objective. She traced the rim of the watch as she usually did with hers. It didn't work at first that she had to stop.

“Why don't you look around and tell me what you see?” He insisted, his tone still calm and gentle and never looking away.

Gasping for more air, Gyuri started again. She traced her finger around the rim and somehow noticed that Kyungsoo's watch was sharp and cold to her skin but felt solid and stable as a rock. After a couple of rounds to it, she dared herself to look around to discover they were right outside the coffee shop, seated on a small bench next to the entrance and shielded by a canopy.

“There’s a green bus there.” She started as the bus passed by the street while her finger went around the rim of the watch. “A red helmet. A store's fallen blackboard there. A black umbrella over there.”

“Keep going,” Kyungsoo encouraged her, “what else do you see?”

Gyuri closed her eyes. She was aware that fixing her attention on someone wasn’t the best idea. She shouldn't use a person to ground herself, but she couldn’t help it. The more she looked around, the harder it was to evade it. He had been quite a constant in her fight to overcome her pain that all she could do was to look into his big and round, brown eyes. His round and symmetrical face. His thick brows. The faint shadow above his lip. Oh, and his big and plump lips.

She let it ground her nonetheless. She held onto it.

“I see you.”