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animereaderinsertwriter · 3 years ago

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Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part II

Part I (complete)

Part III (complete)

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

Making deals with a vampire was one thing, (Y/N) supposed, but fulfilling such a deal was quite another.

When Zeke— who held the contradictory position of the regional Commander of the Hunters as well as the alpha of a local werewolf pack— had approached her with the idea of infiltrating Eren Jaeger's inner circle, she had jumped at the chance; her great-to-however-many-degrees grandfather really had been Jean Kirschtein, and she had read his old journal, and her curiosity about the Old Ways was always bubbling just beneath her skin. Zeke, she thought, must have known of her curiosity, because his offer had been everything she was searching for.

You'll have your answers, he told her, And we'll have ours. One way or another, the problem of Eren Jaeger will be solved through your efforts. There is no possible way to lose.

If only she had known how wrong Zeke had been.

At first, things with Eren were simple— well, as simple as things could be with such a delicate arrangement. It had been beyond easy to bait him into approaching her at the Creature bar on 76th Street, and aside from the first time, allowing time for Eren to feed was almost nothing. Even the process of feeding itself wasn't much of an ordeal— there was hardly any pain since he drew from her wrist after a warm soak, and the whole thing took less than five minutes— but around the second time, when the visions began, things began to be… different.

Little snippets of Eren's past began to come as the two of them interacted more and increased the amount of regular feedings. Sometimes it was as little as a feeling, a memory of a face that (Y/N) had never seen before; other times, it was like (Y/N) was truly there centuries ago, in a land that would one day become her home. Now, almost every time she let Eren drink from her, she was thrust back into a world where humanity was (literally) with it's back against the wall, fighting demons and mindless monsters just to survive; and, sometimes, the visions were so intense that she would come back from them terrified, shaking, and incapable of cogent thought. It was during those times that Eren held her, silent, resigned, and yet somehow caring until she was herself again.

It was strange; in the visions, Eren was often passionate to a fault. He was wild, like an animal, but kind, too. During times like these, when he cradled her in his arms as she was trembling with the force of a particularly poignant memory, (Y/N) wondered if the centuries had truly changed him, or if he hid that passion beneath the jaded indifference she had come to expect.

"You think too much," he told her as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. "Your heart is racing."

Of course it was— the terror of watching hundreds of people be consumed by the very wrath of hell itself would do that to a person— but (Y/N) had no rebuttal. She did think too much, and the end result was muddled reports sent back to Zeke and a clouded heart.

"You loved her."

It was a statement, not a question. Mikasa— the brave, beautiful woman that Jean Kirschtein had once loved— may not have always known it, but Eren truly had felt very deeply for her.

"More than life," Eren replied.

(Y/N) thought back to the memory— the sheer panic Eren had felt at the thought of losing his comrades, the desperation with which he strove to save them— and she amended her statement.

"You loved them all."

Eren hummed.

"More than the wide, wide world."

And (Y/N) thought that, perhaps, he truly meant it.

"What did you see this time?" he asked, his voice soft.

(Y/N) pulled back so that she and Eren were face to face, her legs straddling him. His eyes were glowing-green, and she shivered beneath their scrutiny.

"I saw a field full of demons," she told him, unable to meet his gaze. "You and Mikasa were defenseless, yourself having been pushed to your limit, and Mikasa's blades having been broken. There was nowhere to run, and you— you screamed, and—"

A large, warm hand caressed her cheek, and it occurred to (Y/N) that it was her own blood within Eren that gave him such warmth with which to comfort. She placed her smaller hand atop his, and the world seemed to freeze for a moment to allow this brief, intimate interlude.

"Do you understand now?" he asked as he did almost every time she had a vision. "Do you see why I did what I did?"

As always, (Y/N) shook her head, moving his hand from her face.

"No, I don't."

The response was never met with anger or frustration; Eren was only ever resigned to it. Before, (Y/N) might have felt scorn for such a man who cared so little, but now that she had seen who Eren had been, what he'd been through… perhaps he was simply tired of caring so much.

"You're beautiful when you're thinking."

The words caught (Y/N) off guard. She had known that Eren had thought she was attractive— his emotional feedback told her that much— but she had never thought that he would voice such a thought. The compliment heated her cheeks, and (Y/N) had to fight the urge to bury her face in her hands.

"I've always thought," said Eren, speaking slowly, choosing his words carefully, "That one can never truly appreciate the beauty of a blush until one could see it with the eyes of a vampire, or smell it as it rises on the cheek."

Eren placed a hand on her face, tilting it until their eyes were level.

"And as a vampire who has seen many beautiful blushes on many beautiful women, yours is the most bewitching of all."

(Y/N) swallowed thickly.

"Why are you saying this?"

Eren cocked his head to the side, studying her. It was a long moment before he spoke, but when he did, he gave an answer that (Y/N) was not expecting.

"Because it's true, and because I would very much like to kiss you."

(Y/N)'s heart leapt into her throat, but she didn't dare move one way or the other. She just stared at Eren, slack-jawed, as he stared patiently back.

"Why?" she asked when she had collected herself.

Eren shrugged. "Does that matter?"

(Y/N) supposed very much that it did matter, but she didn't feel the need to say so. She studied Eren closely— the latent hunger in his eyes, the set of his jaw, the stain of her blood on his lips— and she thought of how gentle he had been with her, how patient. She had no doubt that he would prove to be equally so in other matters, and she wanted him— but something stopped her.

It would be wrong of me to allow this, she thought, letting her eyes wander to Eren's lips. I'm his enemy, a spy for the Hunters. Allowing him and myself the potential of intimacy is too deep a betrayal, even for me.

Even so, she didn't stop him as he shifted her closer; even so, when his lips brushed hers, she kissed him back, tasting her own blood on his tongue.

"This is a bad idea," she whispered against his lips, shifting in his lap.

"How young you are," he said in return. "There is no such thing as a bad idea, only poor timing and execution. Take it from someone who has centuries of experience; rarely ever is the regret for having done something greater than the regret of not having done it."

So saying, he kissed her again, and (Y/N) threaded her hands in his hair as he reached beneath her shirt. His hands— warm, now, with the heat of her own blood— reached beneath the cup of her bra to cradle her breasts, and she exhaled a hiss as his fingertips found her nipples. She arched into him, pressing her flesh into his hands and parting their lips; he chuckled, dark and low, and she shivered at the sound.

"How many other Creatures have you tricked like this?" he asked, pressing kisses against her neck. "Tell me, pretty girl— just how many have fallen prey to your charms so that you can run back to your little doggy master with their deepest, darkest secrets?"

(Y/N) froze, stuck somewhere between fear, dread, and ecstasy. Eren knew— somehow, he knew— and yet he continued to touch her, kiss her, caress her as though nothing were amiss. Her whole body went still with shock, but Eren never stopped even for a moment.

"Come now, you can't think I didn't know." His lips were just below her ear now, and he closed his teeth around the lobe, teasing her with the sensation. "I can smell him on the papers in your bag; I can hear the clicking of the letters as you type your memos after I've pieced you back together for an evening. Most of all, I can hear the way your heart pumps a little faster when I feed you the information you want. I can taste your guilt in the very blood I take from you. You can hide nothing from me."

"Eren," she said as fear— rancid and terrible— began crawling up the back of her throat, "Eren, please, I haven't told him about the important things, I'm trying to make a case for you—"

He pulled away then, and when his piercing green eyes locked with her own, she stilled like a sparrow caught in the gaze of a cobra.

"I don't care," he replied simply. "You are what you are, and at your core, you cannot change that. It is the same with me. I'm not afraid of my half-mutt half-brother no matter what you tell him, and as long as you want what I have to offer, there's no reason not to take it for your own."

(Y/N)'s mind was reeling.

"Half-brother?"

Eren chuckled at her confusion.

"Oh yes, pretty one. Zeke Jaeger is my older brother, and I suspect he sent you to me just to you with the both of us." With a carnivorous grin, he added, "But little does he know that I play for keeps, and you're not the good little Huntress he must assume you are— that is to say, he must have no clue at all how hungry you are for vampire cock, hm?"

(Y/N) would be lying if she hadn't pictured Eren in… less than appropriate situations, but for fuck's sake, she wasnt blind. The man— vampire, Creature, whatever— was fucking gorgeous, and he damn well knew it, but that didn't mean she was gagging for it.

Did it?

"We can't do this," she said, pushing at Eren's chest, though he didn't budge an inch. "We shouldn't do this."

Eren cracked a grin, toothy with fangs that glistened.

"Says who?" he asked, his large, strong hands coming around to grab her by the ass. "You were perfectly fine with letting me kiss and touch when you thought I was in the dark— is it no longer any fun now that you don't feel like you're taking advantage of me?"

(Y/N) couldn't take it.

"Eren, be serious—"

"I am serious."

When she looked in his eyes and reached out with her own heart, (Y/N) knew that he was telling the truth. He wanted her regardless of anything, regardless of everything.

He simply wanted her.

Could that be so bad?

***

Eren didn't think that this would happen even in his wildest dreams, but when he saw (Y/N) splayed out on his gold silk sheets, he knew it wasn't the madness that Armin accused him of lying to himself about. No mind, well and whole or not, could ever conjure up such a vision. The woman who lay before him— naked and gorgeous— was beyond imagining. She was something from another world entirely.

"What are you doing?" she asked, puzzled as Eren stood over her, watching the rise and fall of her breasts. "Come hold me."

And how lovely was that? His natural enemy, his perfect prey, asking him to come hold her, as though his skin on hers was blessed assurance that he was there and wanting.

Maybe Eren was mad— or, perhaps he was dreaming. If he was, he hoped he never came back to himself. A world without this was not a world he ever wanted to return to.

"Yes," she hissed as he crawled atop her, his mouth suckling at her breast. No other creature that walked the earth could ever taste as sweet as her— having tasted many, many before, Eren would know— but even were that to be disproved, Eren wasn't sure he would much care. This woman would be his undoing.

"Touch me," she demanded, canting her hips up to him. "I want to feel you."

How could Eren ever deny her? He brought a hand down to her sex, caressing her there before parting her folds to quest for her clit. Having found it, he drew small, teasing circles, and she whined.

"Am I still a monster to you?" he asked into the hollow of her throat, placing biting kisses there as his hand kept busy with its work. "Still something to hate and abhor?"

"You're still a monster," she replied, so startlingly honest even now, "But I never once hated you. Oh Eren, please, I want you inside me, I—"

Her wish was his command; Eren plunged two fingers into her depths, and (Y/N) gasped at the intrusion. She was so wet already, and so tempting as she squeezed down on those fingers, rocking her hips as he withdrew them just to the tip and repeated the motion. The way she felt around his digits shouldn't have turned him on as much as it did, but as Eren slid in a third finger, he had to keep himself from letting out a groan.

"You're so beautiful," he told her as she writhed beneath him. "You truly, truly are."

Distantly, Eren wondered what Jean would think if he were alive to know who was finger-fucking his great-granddaughter, but when Eren remembered the nasty right hooks the taller man used to give him when he was being a shit, he figured that he would rather not know. Still, as he watched (Y/N) come undone on the tip of his fingers, he couldn't help but think that perhaps it was something of Jean's spirit— the part that even Eren had to admit was better, kinder, more human than most— that drew him to her.

"I want you," he said, withdrawing his hands and licking his fingers clean of her juices. "Do you feel ready enough?"

And then, as though to prove his point, (Y/N) sat straight up with the cutest little Jean-like scowl he had ever seen and pushed at his chest with no small amount of force. He went with the motion, and he found himself being mounted by her as she said,

"I'm not made of glass— if you can't wrap your head around that, I'll have to show you just what I'm capable of."

She did— and how! Powerful thighs— the thighs of a Hunter— levered her up and down on his cock, squeezing him until he thought he might die from it. He thought she was never going to stop impaling herself again and again, and by the time she did eventually tire, Eren was sort of hoping she never would. He was in ecstasy with her, and like the selfish bastard he was, he wanted it to last forever.

"Such fire," he said, reaching up to press kisses into the skin just between her breasts. "You've made your point, now let me take over."

Let me take care of you.

"Yes, yes, yes," she chanted as he thrust up into her, the head of his cock buried so deeply within her that he marveled at how she didn't seem to be feeling any discomfort. "Oh fuck, right there, please don't stop—"

Eren didn't stop; he couldn't. He was beyond restraint.

"May I?" He asked, tapping the wrist that was trapped in his right hand. "I won't take much, but I want to show you something."

Delirious, drunk with lust, (Y/N) nodded, and Eren pierced her skin with a single fang, letting a drop of blood fall onto his tongue. In that moment, as they connected physically, her blood connected them spiritually, and Eren groaned as he physically felt how close she was through the link he had created.

It wouldn't be long now.

"Oh, fuck!" she cried, and Eren buried himself as deeply as he could within her as he came. "Oh, oh, oh—"

And then (Y/N) was following him, shaking and gasping as her orgasm overtook her. It seemed that the world had stopped existing for a moment, and Eren found it hard to breathe even though he had no particular need to do so at all.

In the afterglow, they clung to each other like the survivors of a shipwreck; when the world began to exist again, it felt new, and as Eren closed his eyes to sleep, he knew that this changed everything.

I must keep her, he thought as sleep overtook him. I don't know if I could feel like this ever again for anyone else.

#aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot #aot fanfiction #eren x reader #vampire!eren jaeger #aot smut

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caffeinated-cryptid · 4 years ago

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ashes, ashes.

10.8k | AO3 link | tags/tws: intrulogical, serial killer/deity of death au, lots of death (murder, mentions of a previous suicide attempt, and brief descriptions of animal death), injury, violence, swearing, morally grey characters, crime.

““You’re not supposed to be able to see me.” Logan blurted out with a start, eyes wide and looking at Remus like he had just killed a guy in front of him. Oh wait-

“Mamma always told me I was special.” Remus replied with a woozy grin, leaving back against the cool bricks of the alleyway. Seeing things that weren’t there was a new level of fucked-up for his brain, but hopefully that was just a side effect of hitting his head and not something he’d have to take pills for later. Either way, at least this spectre was pretty to look at. Trauma had its benefits.

“You think a deity of death is pretty?” Logan asked wryly, cutting through the stream of subconscious babble he’d accidentally spilled into the frigid night air. “I’d be flattered, if that didn’t sound like such a red flag.””

(aka: remus chases death like it's his favourite pastime, since it means he gets to see logan again. understandably, logan has some objections to this.)

--------------

Case 1: the man in the alley.

The first time Remus and Logan met, it was more or less a complete accident.

As a part-time warehouse operative slash freelance artist, Remus had a lot of free time between jobs, and one of the things he enjoyed doing most while waiting for his next gig to come around was spray-painting obscene images into the side of alleys.��

His latest project was a 7-foot tall purple unicorn with generous proportions. Pretty tasteful by his standards, all things considered.

If nothing else, the piece of work would give passers-by a topic of conversation, and that was always something Remus aimed to inspire with his art. These topics, however, often happened to be the ‘why’ variety. Most commonly, the old classic (and his personal favourite): ‘why are you like this?’.

Regrettably, the evening passed pretty quickly with no curious pedestrians passing by his alley and starting up such a conversation. By the time Remus finished, it was past midnight and by now the only people around were the regular nightlife-- primarily the local college kids who had recently come home and were enjoying their break from classes, and adults like himself who were trying to chase away their loneliness with some other kind of high.

...Woo, and that’s enough depressing thoughts for tonight. Remus declared to himself. After all, he had a new piece to admire! Stepping back, he spent a moment taking in the completed artwork by the light of his phone’s torch before deciding it was as perfect as it could get. He’d come back later and get a picture during the daytime to show off to his friends, so for now he begun preparing to leave by packing his paint cans into his backpack.

It was when he had collected the last can of magenta from the ground that he felt something grab the back of his coat hood. Remus had no time to process the fact that someone had snuck into the alleyway before he was shoved against the same wall he'd painted his mural on, coming face-to-face with a hooded man waving a rather pathetic-looking pocket knife at him.

“Give me your money. Now.” The man demanded.

Remus blinked in delayed surprise. Usually he was the one being the creep in the alleyway. He had never expected to come across an actual creep. Heck, this situation felt like it was pulled straight out of an old PSA with how stereotypical it was.

“What?” He blurted out unthinkingly, because of that exact train of thought.

“You heard me! I want you to get your wallet and hand over everything you’ve got.”

What an unfortunate victim this man has chosen.

“You think I have any money to my name? I’m practically the starving artist every parent warns their kid about becoming.” Remus said with a huff of amusement.

“Don’t try to bullshit me!” The hand clutching the front of his coat tugged him forward before violently slamming him back against the bricks. The back of Remus’ head ricochetted off them roughly with the sudden movement, and the small grin he had been wearing quickly faded with flash of pain and the realization he may actually be in trouble.

“I saw the paint you’ve got in your bag,” The man continued over his dawning concern. “Somebody who’s broke wouldn’t have all that.”

Remus’ thoughts halted for a second. His bag…! He knew the paint can he was holding onto for dear life wouldn’t do much in the way of self-defense given that it was practically empty, but a whole bag of them? Hitting this guy with that much weight would make him think twice about trying to stab him, at least.

“Okay, okay. You got me, I’m rich as hell. Just let me get it, alright? My wallet's in there.”

The man gave him a skeptical look, but stepped back slightly, continuing to hold the weapon in his direction. “I know how to throw knives. Try to run and you’ll have a hole in your back quicker than an onset stroke.”

Yikes, and Remus thought he was bad at metaphors. He didn’t even need Virgil here to tell him that that made no sense. Still, he grinned placatingly. “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye: I won’t run.”

Finally, bad-metaphor guy let down his guard and allowed Remus to side-step around him. He walked a few paces towards where he dropped his backpack in his initial shock, putting the magenta spray in before he picked it up by the straps. True to his word, he didn't run; instead he swung around on his heel, slamming the full force of his hardback sketchbooks and cans of spray paint into the face of the hooded man.

He instantly dropped his knife, falling backwards and clutching his nose as blood erupted from it. Under the low-lighting of the street lamp, Remus was transfixed for a second, feeling like he was in one of those gritty r-rated movies he watched with his babysitter as a kid. The moment was ruined when he realized that 1) the man was approaching again very quickly, and 2) he couldn’t get the momentum quick enough to swing his bag around and hit him a second time.

Before he knew it, Remus had accidentally let go of the makeshift weapon when he was tackled to the ground, wind completely knocked out of him as the two of them collided against cobblestone moistened with rain.

“You fucking bastard.” The guy hissed furiously. His voice was nasally now that his nose was crooked and broken-looking, and Remus almost wanted to poke fun of him for it until he felt two hands wrap around his throat and start to choke him. “‘Could’ve just made things easy, but now you’re gonna die with all the other trash.”

Why? Remus wanted to ask. Over the 7 dollars and 15 cents he had?

But as he tried to tear away the vice grip on his neck, he couldn’t find the voice to talk back, even though the seriousness of the situation was hitting him like a freight train. Maybe it was his own fault for escalating things instead of playing along. Go figure, he had overestimated his own abilities after years being the off-putting one; the person others thought they had to watch over their shoulder for. Either that, or maybe it was the fact that his wallet carried more sentimental value with it than monetary. It was small and made of orange ducktape, but it carried so many things that Remus wanted to protect; a photo of his family, one of Virgil's guitar picks, the ticket to the last Tenacious D he went to, and of course, the receipt for his first condom purchase.

His mind flashed to his friends and family, and he wondered how they’d feel about this; him dying because of some dumb robber in a dumb alleyway because he was painting his dumb artwork. That was hardly the kind of death one could look back on and regard with pride (Hell if it wasn't funny to imagine how everyone will react to the news, though). But as he focused on the face above him, he realized with some panic that the grip wasn’t loosening, even as he could feel his lungs burn and a near-soothing feeling telling him to just let go.

As a final act of desperation to save himself from becoming a wholly embarrassing funeral eulogy instead of having a rockstar’s death in his 40s like he always imagined for himself, he patted the ground frantically, looking for a loose rock or something to stop this with. That’s when he felt it; the slightly warm plastic handle of the knife the guy had been holding. Remus’ heart pounded as he realized what he needed to do, and he barely even considered the repercussions of the action before he was plunging the knife into the side of the guy’s neck.

Finally, the grip around his throat loosened as the guy gasped, his expression flickering back and forth between anger and shock. Remus ripped the knife away, inhaling air greedily when the sudden action caused the man to loosen his grip and move off of him, trying to cover the stab wound with his hands and failing.

Remus quickly scrambled back and pulled himself up the wall, watching and waiting for the guy to fall still. He did, after what felt like a few minutes, and Remus didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. He’d just killed a man. It was self-defence, but still… even the morbid thoughts he had over the years couldn't have prepared him for what it would have actually felt like to go through with any of it.

In that moment of pause, his injuries caught up with him as both his head and neck begun to ache. He was so disoriented that he barely even noticed the third person standing in the alley until they spoke up.

“Well. I didn’t see that coming.”

Remus snapped his head towards the source of the voice, and immediately regretted it when the hasty motion made him dizzy. The only reason he didn’t immediately jump into fight mode was because of the unusually casual way the voice had spoken. Beyond that, the figure he saw standing a short distance away didn’t really… look like a regular person. Beyond the odd formal clothing that had no discernable modern style to it and the shock of white hair that could only be achieved with hella bleach, his skin was a cool grey like a cadaver and he had a ghostly appearance to him; transparent and misty around the edges.

Definitely not the sort of thing Remus expected to see, but he was always one to accommodate the unexpected.

“...You and me both. My only goal for today was to draw unicorn porn.” Remus replied lightly, once he decided it wouldn't hurt to entertain whatever was currently happening.

The figure turned, startling at the sight of Remus staring directly at him.

“You’re not supposed to be able to see me.” He blurted out with wide eyes, looking at Remus like he had just killed a guy in front of him. Oh wait-

“You think a deity of death is pretty?” The man (deity???) asked wryly, cutting through the stream of subconscious babble he’d accidentally spilled into the frigid night air. “I’d be flattered, if that didn’t sound like such a red flag.”

"I can't believe my own brain is kinkshaming me." Remus whined, slipping down slightly as the worn-down soles of his boots lost their grip on the concrete for a second.

Death frowned, until a metaphorical lightbulb lit over his head. "Ah- you think you're hallucinating. Well, that's not an unfair assumption. Keep believing it, by all means."

"That doesn't sound like something a hallucination would say." Remus pointed out.

"Well then, I'll gladly prove my non-existence by disappearing." Death said as he took a step towards the body.

"Wait!" Remus called before he could figure out why. The ghostly figure stopped, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Remus’ composure slipped as his eyes darted between the body and Death. "I...I need to know that this is real. That I'm not making this up. This feels like something I'd dream, but…"

His hand clenched around the knife, feeling the squelch of blood and the tremor of his hand. Despite the mixed signals he was currently getting on the state of his sanity, it felt solid and real, and Remus wasn’t sure what to make of that.

"Fuck. Please tell me! Am I being as messed up as usual or did I really just kill someone?"

Death’s eyes softened. "You did. This is real."

"Well shit. Okay…" Remus looked back at the body with a deep resignation. He wondered if he should do something about that. Probably not; that would look even more incriminating.

"...If it makes you feel better, he has hurt people in situations like this before, and completely unnecessarily; his only motive was to achieve a rush.”

That did make Remus feel better, actually.

"Good. I’m glad I killed a piece of shit and not someone down on their luck." Remus sighed, eyeing the spectral figure. "Speaking of, if this is real, then I guess that means you are too right?"

Any sympathy on Death's place quickly faded as he was caught out. "Erm-"

"It's cool." Remus leaned his head back again. "Talking to a cute ghost man? Sounds like a typical Thursday night for me."

Actually, this was the furthest thing from a typical Thursday night for Remus, but he didn’t want to admit that to the cute ghost man and risk looking uncool.

"You shouldn't get acquainted with it. Seeing me is hardly a good thing." Death replied, though his cheeks were distinctly a darker grey.

"Aww- don't sell yourself short. I love your work!" Remus waved away vaguely. He always had a strange relationship with death in a way that others didn’t; always the first to laugh at a funeral or smile instead of grieve. That was probably why he felt so comfortable right now. “Besides, we’ll all be food for the dirt and worms eventually, anyway. Why get uncomfortable with it?"

Death met his eyes again, seeming slightly more firm. “Perish those thoughts, it's hardly your time yet."

Remus pouted. "It's still inevitable, though. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy I didn’t die today and got to meet you instead, but what’s so bad about something that’s going to happen either way?”

“I’m starting to think I was right by judging your attitude as a red flag.” Death muttered.

“But I'm right aren't I?” Remus prodded.

“Indeed.” Death begrudgingly conceded. “And do you know just how inevitable it is? Approximately 2 people die per second; 106 per minute. There have been 6435 events of armed conflict in the past year alone, and over 690 million people who are undernourished as we speak. Beyond that, there are even more people losing their lives to case-by-case natural events and incidents. So if you’d be so kind, do not be so eager to create more work for me.”

Remus absorbed that information, tilting his head. “Despite all that, you’re still here?”

“...I am.” Death agreed after a heavy pause, in the same manner most would admit their own defeat. “I’ll admit, I’m not used to… talking so much. It’s an unusual feeling, but it’s been pleasant, I suppose.”

“Death likes my company.” Remus laughed. “That’s gotta be saying something.”

Death rolled his eyes. “My name is Logan, not Death.”

“Huh. I’m Remus.” Remus replied, a little baffled. He didn’t expect a deity to have such a normal name.

“Remus ‘Tsukio’ Kaneshiro, I already know of you. We’ve met before.”

Remus’ bafflement only grew. “We have? I think I’d remember meeting someone like you.”

“You wouldn't; you were unconscious. It was after you overdosed on cold medicine. Thankfully your parents got you to the hospital on time before I could do my job, but I remember it being a close call.” Logan looked at him knowingly.

“...Oh.” Remus laughed nervously. He definitely remembered that. Finding out you could overdose on a lot of common household items was pretty dangerous for him to learn as a teenager, and he’d never forget how furious his entire family was with him for being so reckless. He never knew how to tell them that it wasn’t quite the accident they assumed it to be (needless to say, his adolescent years were pretty shitty to him, being the outsider in this town in more ways than one). Thankfully, the taste of cold medicine had become too repulsive for him to try anything like that again.

“...I am glad you’re alright. It’s always unfortunate when a life ends too soon.”

“Well…thanks. This has been pretty trippy, so I’m glad I met you too, Logan.”

Logan hummed and looked towards the end on the alleyway. “By the way, you should think about leaving soon. There’s a group of people approaching us.”

Shit, Remus had almost forgotten that he had just committed a crime. Given how awful this scene looked, there was a big chance he’d get thrown into jail for this if he got caught. But at the same time, he was almost hesitant to leave behind the spectre that had enchanted his heart within a few minutes, even if his mind was still trying to catch up with the overload of information.

“Why would you help me?” He asked quickly and somewhat suspiciously.

Just as Logan finished his business with the body, he looked at him over his shoulder with an almost sly expression. “You seem interesting, Remus. I’d hate for you to lose your life over someone so unworthy of one.”

And with that, Logan disappeared like a cloud of fog. Remus stood there transfixed, until he remembered Logan’s warnings and snatched up his bag, shoving the knife into his pocket and dashing into the night.

--------------

Case 2: the man who couldn't leave well enough alone.

The next time Remus and Logan met, it was slightly less of an accident, but fuck if the guy didn’t deserve it.

When Remus got home after the night he first saw Logan, he was more grateful than ever that he lived in such a run-down part of town. There were barely any security cameras to look out for, let alone people who were willing to be out during the early hours of the morning.

He was able to slip into his apartment complex unseen, avoiding his early-bird roommate long enough to wash away his crimes in the shower.

After that, he fell into his bed, completely unable to process everything that had just happened. So instead he fell asleep and left the deep thinking to his future self.

As expected, he needed plenty of time to collect his thoughts. First of all, he knew he hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing because after weeks and months of taking it as easy as possible, he hadn’t seen anything else as strange as a personification of death named Logan. Logan...what kind of name even was that? It felt like the name of a teacher, not something that should be as grim and macabre as Remus himself.

But that was the other thing; Remus couldn’t get the thought of Logan out of his head. He was like the angel who had come down to bless him in a moment of weakness, saving him from further misfortune. He knew he had little to no chance of seeing their deity again, but that didn’t stop him from plaguing his mind constantly.

Remus figured the best chance he’d probably get at seeing Logan again was to become involved with death once more. His mind immediately jumped to animals, the easiest targets; he pictured slipping into a farm late at night and slitting the throat of one of the sheep, going to a pet store and buying a hamster for the night before ‘accidentally’ leaving it in a box to suffocate, picking up a stray from the street and snapping its neck quickly. But just as soon as those thoughts came to him, he waved them away with a grimace. He wouldn’t be able to go through with any of that, even for Logan.

People had always talked about him like he was a serial killer in training. They would keep a wary eye when he picked up sharp objects and ask his brother if Remus had ever hurt one of their pets as kids, as if because he had unconventional ideas, he was a complete sadist towards the innocent. (And yes, perhaps he did have thoughts of that nature too, but they’d always fill him with sickness because he fucking loved the pet dogs they had as kids, damn it). In any case, he knew that going through with those ideas would only be proving those people right, that he was a dangerous individual who’d murder an innocent creature just for someone his brain maybe made up.

...Perhaps he was losing his mind after all. What was he doing, plotting out the best way to see Death? If anyone else could hear his thoughts, they’d think him half-mad or suicidal. It seemed like the best thing so do was to try to push this out of his mind, so eventually, that's what he did. He wasn’t so good at that usually; his mouth ran a mile a minute and the people who knew him would often say that his brain-mouth filter was non-existent. But this felt like something he’d like to keep for himself, especially when news of the murder made it onto the local news, presumed to be the outcome of ‘gang activity’ simply because the victim was successful and had a loving family and what else could explain this?

He decided to not think about making plans anymore, and he only thought about Logan when his mind was otherwise unoccupied. It stayed that way until the very next week when he found out about the situation with his roommate’s ex.

Remus didn’t have many people in the world who were willing to put up with him, but the one’s that did, he cherished dearly. So when Nadia, the woman he’d describe as belonging among the Valkyries (if only she could get past her deal of not wanting to hurt a fly), came to him looking uncharacteristically shaken and upset, Remus felt something in him snap.

She told Remus about how her ex-boyfriend was following her to her workplace and making threats on her life. He’d even begun showing up outside their apartment late at night in an attempt at intimidation, and that detail alone pissed him off considering he’d been too in his head to even notice.

“All because I decided I deserved better.” Nadia told him tearily. She was so strong usually, both physically and emotionally, so seeing her so close to crying felt like a punch to the gut. “I just want for him to be gone… But James would probably kill me before I could even file a restraining order.”

“What if he was gone?” Remus blurted out. “Hypothetically.”

Nadia blinked at him, wiping a stray tear. “Honestly? I think the world would be a better place. But that’s never going to happen.”

Remus nodded. “Right. Of course. Do you still have his number, by any chance?”

Remus’ plan was simple: Nadia would call her ex and ask him to come over to ‘reconcile’, and when he did, Remus would confront him. Scare him enough to stay away for good. He was pretty great at being intimidating when he wanted to that the both of them assumed it would work out.

Well, James came as planned. Their apartment complex had one massive security flaw in that anyone could get in without keys or permission, so the only clue Remus got that James was coming was the sound of footsteps bouncing off the walls of the stairwell. Remus stood upright and waited, until he saw the top of James’ head slowly ascending up the stairs, pausing on the second-top step.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” James scoffed disbelievingly as Remus moved in front of him. “Did Nadia seriously send out the guard dog? What? Suddenly too afraid to talk for herself?”

Remus considered barking at him in response, but considering how James was way above the common creep in terms of persistence, he crossed his arms instead and glared steadily.

“Hell yeah she did. You should know why, given how much of a low-life asshole you’ve been acting all week. When are you going to give up the big guy act, huh? Curley called and he wants his complex back.”

James, in all of his 5-foot-no-thoughts glory, only squinted as the insult went over his head.

“...I knew I never fuckin’ liked you. Don’t get involved in our relationship, you little freak.” James tried to pass him, and Remus quickly blocked him, taking out the knife he’d stolen months ago.

“Take another step and this is going in your goddamn eye.” Remus raised his voice, confident that most of their neighbours were already out at work. “You’re not going near Nadia ever again, do you hear me?”

“Or what?! What’ll you do, Kaneshiro? Stab me? Put the toothpick away and step aside, for god’s sake. This is embarrassing, even for you.”

The two of them stood in a standstill, staring each other down as the echo from James’ exclamation faded out.

“...Fine.” Remus said finally. He slipped the knife back into his pocket, and James smirked smugly until Remus grabbed the front of his shirt instead. “It’ll be more fun to do this, anyway.”

With that he shoved James backwards, who quickly lost his footing and fell down the long and narrow flight of stairs. He tumbled for few moments, hitting each step, until he landed on the ground floor with a distant thump.

Remus stared after him, preparing for James to get up and start making a scene like he always did when he didn’t get his way. He didn’t.

Frowning, Remus descended the stairs, and as he drew closer to the slumped-over body, he noticed the puddle of blood around James’ head and the odd way he’d landed.

“Damn.” Remus commented under his breath. “Nadia’s going to kill me.”

He heard a sigh somewhere ahead of him, and fearing someone had walked in on his compromising position, Remus quickly glanced up, excuse at the ready.

“It was an accident-!” He exclaimed, before he realized it was Logan standing there, looking between James and Remus with a pinched expression.

“I know you pushed him, Remus. That’s not exactly what the law would define as an ‘accident’.”

For a second, Remus was starstruck (and opting to ignore the consequences of his actions). “You remember me.”

“Of course I do. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, though.”

That almost sounded like an accusation, so Remus held his hands up defensively. “Hey, in my defence he was just asking to die. The dude's a dick!”

Logan sighed. “Regardless, you shouldn't go around killing people. Sooner or later you’ll get caught.”

“Well, I’m 1 for 1 so far! But if you’d rather me not get in trouble… Have any tips on how to cover this?” Remus joked, winking.

Logan frowned at him before he truly considered it, looking around at the scene thoughtfully. “...Double check to make sure you left no evidence. Move quickly, before anybody stumbles across the scene. And if you have time, plant something which will make this look more like an accident-- for instance, a spill on the stairs.”

Remus’ eyes widened. “I wasn’t expecting actual tips. Holy shit- okay.”

He went over to check the body, feeling his cheeks heat up. He absolutely should not be getting flustered over advice on how to cover up a murder, yet here he was.

“I feel like you shouldn’t be encouraging this.” Remus said jokingly as he smoothed out the creases on the front of James’ shirt. “Didn’t you say something about having more work to do? Who knows, you might be giving me a new hobby.”

Remus laughed. Logan didn’t. When he glanced up, the deity was frowning.

“Perhaps not. Forget what I said; I shouldn’t be interfering in matters like this. I shouldn’t even be appearing to you now.”

“Woah, woah, woah. What’s the matter? I thought you liked talking.” Remus hastily stood upright, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I- regardless of my personal feelings, I have a job to do. I can’t allow myself to become so partial over one human.” Logan replied, rubbing at the crease between his eyebrows.

“Why? What’s the worst that could happen?!” Remus argued.

“You could cheat death, for starters.”

“You already know how I feel about that.” Remus whined. “I’ll off myself when the time comes, if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Don’t-” Logan exclaimed, before he reigned himself back in. “Just. No. You’re supposed to go naturally. Neither you or I should interfere with that.”

Remus frowned. He wasn’t so sure he liked the thought of such a boring death. If anything, he wanted to go out in a blaze of glory. Otherwise, he’d be just another body no one would remember-- like loverboy over there.

“That means no more meetings like this.” Logan continued on.

“But what if I want to see you again?” Remus muttered. He looked across the room to Logan and found him wearing a similar downtrodden expression, until it grew serious.

“You’ll just have to deal with that, because we were never supposed to meet in the first place. I have a duty to fulfil and you have a life to live. Our paths are as parallel as can be.”

“This is bullshit, Logan.” Remus said, but he didn’t argue any further. Not when Logan walked around him to complete his business. Not when he prepared to leave, either.

“Don’t do this again.” Logan said finally, giving him a stern glare. “I mean it.”

--------------

Case 3: the woman in the streets.

The next time Remus and Logan met, Logan was starting to think Remus was making a habit of this after all.

In Remus’ defence, he totally wasn’t.

Logan’s parting words just wouldn’t leave his head. It was even worse than last time; the knowledge that he could kill anyone and get to see Logan again plagued him, and he found himself pulling away from his family and friends after the questioning from the police was over and done with.

They were all worried for him, but especially Nadia who knew exactly what he did and assumed it was because of the guilt that he was becoming uncharacteristically withdrawn. Although she was shocked at how things had escalated, she tried to apologize multiple times for letting Remus confront James, which he would always blow off. It wasn’t killing James that had gotten to him, not at all; in fact he was glad that prick was out of their hair. Rather, he grappled with the idea of never seeing Logan again, one of the few people who truly saw the worst sides of him and accepted them nonetheless.

He didn’t deal with it well.

The night of their next meeting, Remus was out drinking alone. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but he didn’t want to justify why he wanted to get absolutely wasted to his friends, so being sad and lonely for one night it was.

He had stumbled out of the bar late at night, beginning his unsteady trek home since he had accidentally spent too much money and couldn’t afford an uber to drive him back. Stepping onto the street a couple blocks from his apartment, everything was quiet until the person ahead of him crossed the road, just as a car sped around the corner and knocked them over with an awful crunch.

Remus stood in shock. He looked after the swerving car to get the licence plate, but it was already too late and they had hit the gas upon noticing him. Swearing, he stumbled over to the person left in the road.

“Shit- Are you alright? Of course not, you need an ambulance.” He was struggling to unlock his phone when he noticed how still the person-- a frail old woman-- was. It didn’t even look like she was taking breaths, though it was hard to tell through his swimming vision and the thick coat she was wearing.

With unsteady fingers, Remus pressed against the pulsepoint on her neck, and felt the moment her heartbeat stopped.

“Oh…”

And then he turned on his heel and threw up.

Death wasn’t supposed to bother him like this. He had always been proud of his ability to frighten others with his dismissive attitude towards life’s eventualities. But this was different. He had just watched the murder of a complete stranger right before his eyes, and there wasn't even anything he could do. What the fuck?

He didn’t even feel better when the person he’d been longing to see all night appeared right in front of him, arms crossed and ready to give a lecture.

“Again, Remus?! What did I tell you?! No more murder!” Logan threw his hands up at the sight of Remus next to the body, that was until he noticed the cause of death and Remus’ sickly appearance,

“I-I didn’t do anything this time, I swear. Logan I promised myself I wouldn’t.” He picked himself out of the gutter he had been puking into, trying to look at the deity, just so he could feel some sense of reassurance. “I thought I’d never see you again. ‘Thought I was okay with that, but I’m not. I missed you.”

Logan only stared at Remus when he began crying. He was a sappy emotional drunk when he got through the fun tipsy phase, sue him.

“...I apologize for yelling at you.” Logan said, awkwardly hovering his hand over Remus’ shoulder until it shuddered with a sob and accidentally brushed against him. Remus jolted at the cool touch, as did Logan, who quickly retreated his hand, eyes darting around worriedly.

“‘Always thought you’d be like mist.” Remus slurred, awestruck enough to forget his sadness. He reached forward to prod at Logan, who furrowed his eyebrows thoughtfully.

“I… Yes, that’s definitely strange.” Logan cleared his throat and straightened up. “In any case, you need to get off the street, report this incident, and go home. Being around so much death isn’t good for your mental health.”

“Maybe.” Remus sighed. “I quite like hanging around you, though.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re drunk. You’re going to feel a lot worse about seeing me in the morning, I promise.”

“I never feel bad about seeing you.” Remus said, picking up his phone from where he’d dropped it. “I only feel bad that it’ll be a long time before I get the chance to see you again.”

“...I don’t get it.” Logan replied softly after a heavy pause. “You shouldn’t want to see me at all. I’m a bad omen. You’d only ever get to meet me in times of tragedy.”

“‘Bad omen’... And I thought Emo was dramatic.” Remus chuckled weakly. “You’re not so bad, Lo. You guide people to the end. You care for them even when you have so many people to watch over. You’re opinionated and you’re easily curious when things don’t go to plan. You don’t mind when I’m weird and you’re fun to talk to. I like you.”

Logan blinked rapidly with surprise, clutching his chest. “I wish we could be having this conversation away from the recently deceased. But... I suppose I feel the same way. I still don’t know how or why you can see me, but our conversations haven’t been unpleasant.”

“Death likes my company.” Remus said, smiling softly to himself. “...You’re right though. I should probably phone this in. I just wish I could remember the licence plate… Something like XQ... ugh.”

“XQR 460.” Logan supplied helpfully.

“That’s it!” Remus cheered, sloppily kissing Logan on the cheek. “Thanks babe!”

Logan floundered for a second as Remus begun calling an ambulance, struggling to regain composure. “I hope we don’t meet like this again soon. Three times over the span of a year is already too much.”

“I don’t know.” Remus looked at Logan slyly. “I’ve always had pretty bad luck.”

--------------

Case 4: the bad doctor.

The next time Remus and Logan meet, it’s completely coincidental and under less stressful circumstances for once.

Well, still stressful. Just for different reasons.

Roman was in the hospital because of some dumb motorcycle crash he got into, which near-gave Remus a heart attack when he heard about because he may often ask for death these days, but not like this. Never like this.

Anyway, he was more or less alive in the end. Just a broken leg and a lot of scrapes and bruises since he always refused to wear the proper protective clothing when he went riding (due to it ‘not fitting his aesthetic', apparently. Remus assumed it was pussy talk for ‘I don’t look badass enough to pull off leather’).

Remus had stopped by to visit, bringing some of the fancy name-brand crackers Roman liked since he kept complaining about how stale and awful the hospital’s ones were, and to say hello to Virgil while xe was on shift. The three of them even managed to sit down while Virgil was on break and catch up, too. Roman and Virgil seemed glad Remus was doing a bit better after his downward spiral a couple of weeks ago, even if they didn’t mention it.

After a few hours spent catching up and teasing one another, he decided to leave Roman to get some rest. His plans for that evening were to take a load off and perhaps call for some takeout with Nadia. Honest to God, he didn’t plan on looking for any trouble.

But still, trouble found him when he noticed Logan walking the halls of the hospital, following a doctor to the elevator.

Remus double-taked. Though he shouldn’t really be surprised to see Logan here in a place with so much death, it was still odd witnessing the cloaked figure walk around normal people, none of them noticing his presence.

Remus quickly jogged over. "Logan!" He hissed under his breath.

The deity startled (startled!) before turning to him, just like the doctor he was following.

"Do you need something?" The doctor said, raising an eyebrow.

"Uhhhh, nope! Just… getting into the elevator." Remus replied, stepping in and standing next to Logan.

"Why must you have such awful timing?" Logan sighed stressfully as the elevator doors slid shut. Remus looked at him, unable to verbally reply with the doctor standing right next to them. Fortunately, his unspoken request to elaborate was picked up on.

"This doctor is going down go the morgue. I was here to see a patient that died under his care, and I noticed how death seemed to latch onto him. I got curious."

Sounds like a bad doctor, if even a deity of death was interested in him. Heh, that probably said a lot about Remus too.

Logan elaborated for Remus’ misinterpreting amused expression. "Remus, he murders patients purposefully. You should not have gotten on this elevator."

...Oh. Remus looked past Logan to the doctor, who had noticed his glances.

"...Hm, aren't you supposed to be in your room? Broken leg, road burn, lacerations?" He questioned, eyes flicking down to where he assumed Remus must be injured.

"Nope! You’re thinking of my twin. I came to visit him today." Remus responded as chipper as he could manage, suddenly a lot more unnerved knowing that this apparently dangerous doctor knew about his brother.

"Ah! I see. I did wonder how you managed to grow a full moustache in a day." The man chuckled. "Twins… quite fascinating."

Uh oh spaghetti-os. "Yeah… people say we're like two unrelated people, we’re so different." Remus laughed dismissively. It didn't seem to bother the doctor.

"Interesting… Say, a partner of mine is conducting a study on the differences in the individual psychologies of monozygotic twins. I'm sure it would please her to get more data, if you'd be interested in participating. There would be monetary compensation for your time, of course."

"This is such an unethical form of recruitment. What kind of professional are you?" Logan argued in frustration. Remus almost burst into laughter on the spot from the bizarreness of the situation, but he somehow managed to turn it into an agreeable grin instead.

"Sounds good, doc." Remus said.

"What-?!" Logan exclaimed. Remus spared him a glance, hoping it would let him know he knew what he was doing. Logan didn't look placated in the slightest.

"Excellent! I'll pass the details onto your brother and we can arrange a meeting sometime this week.”

At that moment, the elevator stopped to let a few other people on. Remus took the opportunity to head out before they could reach the basement floor.

“See you later!” He called to both the Doctor and Logan.

“REMUS!”

--------------

Case 4.5: the dead doctor.

The next time they meet, Remus fully expects it.

Roman asks him over text why he volunteered them for a study, and Remus makes some vague excuse like ‘sexy doctor’. Thankfully, he bought it.

Before the date sent to them by the doctor, Remus decided to do his own research first. To do so, he contacted Virgil and asked for details on the man.

After copious amount of friendly jabs (like 'oooh Remus, I didn’t know tall, straight, and boring was your type'), Virgil told him his name and not much else, given that xe wasn't exactly close with the older staff member. That was fine; Remus used the information to find online profiles, where he found contact details and photos, where he found business accounts, where he found history.

After pulling a few more strings from people that owed him one, he managed to gain access to the vital records from the hospital. It didn’t take long to discover that Logan was right, there had been a spike in deaths since the doctor, a mister 'Stacey’, had begun working there. It was a mystery how no one had noticed the pattern honestly. Weren't doctors supposed to get their licences taken away after a certain number of incidents? As he begun looking through the files more closely however, he realized that the deaths were often chalked up to accidents; small things that could have been due to anything, from mistakes during operations, to the patients overdosing on their prescribed medication, to incidents days after they’ve been discharged.

As Remus closed his laptop, he begun feeling very glad he had impulsively accepted Stacey’s offer.

The meeting ended up being scheduled for Friday evening, and by the time it rolled around, Remus was fully prepared and waiting outside of the agreed location. He dialled Roman’s number, looking out to the empty parking lot and familiarizing himself with the location.

After a few rings, Roman picked up, sounding slightly agitated. “Yes, Captain Dookey?”

Remus snickered at the old nickname-- it was practically a relic from when they played pirates as children. Perhaps Roman was feeling sentimental after his accident.

“Aye aye first mate. You should know that I’m not gonna make it to the study. I already called Dr. Stacy to let him know we’re cancelling for today, so you can stay home.”

“Really Remus? I just got ready.”

“Yeah well, you’re supposed to be resting anyway. Unless you want to drop a visit by yourself that is, but Virgil told me he’s straight, soooo...”

He heard a retching sound on the other end of the line.

“No thanks.” A sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, I guess.”

“Bye, ugly.”

“Later, Rat Bastard.”

“Rats are cute, that’s not an insult. Byeee~.” Remus quickly hung up, his grin quickly fading as he took in the apartment complex.

It didn’t look like the sort of space that would house an office, but Stacey didn’t look like the type to break the Hippocratic oath either, so perhaps the world wasn’t as straight-forward as it seemed.

Slipping his phone away, Remus buzzed the number he’d been given, and it wasn’t long before the good doctor himself came down to answer the door personally.

“Remus.” Stacey almost looked surprised to see him. “Is your brother not coming?”

“Oh, no.” Remus waved a hand. “I just got off the phone with him and he told me he’s running late. He said to get started without him.”

He received a charming smile. “That works just fine. Come on in.”

Stacey led him up the stairs to his apartment, and the whole time Remus felt the weight of the kitchen knife in his pocket. When they got to the ‘office’ (which was really just a living room with minimal furnishing), he offered him a drink.

“No thanks, I’m good.” Remus said, looking around. “...Seems pretty empty in here for an office.”

“Ah… Yes, unfortunately my colleague is having renovations done in her usual space, so we’ll have to collect our data here. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

A fair enough explanation on the surface, and one his brother would probably accept if he was here, but Remus wasn’t nearly as trusting as Roman was. Nor was he as ignorant to the true purpose of this meeting.

“I see… That makes sense. Or at least it would, if I didn’t already know all about your dirty little secrets.”

Stacey glanced up from where he’d been looking for a pen. “...Pardon?”

Remus smiled back; a grin with all teeth. “You have quite a few skeletons in your closet, doc. Even for a fine medical professional like yourself.”

The doctor very carefully didn’t react to that. "My apologies, do you have the right person? To the best of my knowledge we've only spoken once."

"Yeah." Remus agreed. "And once is all it took. I found out about all those little accidents that follow you, doctor. Weird how many times your patients pass away from nicked veins and potassium chloride overdoses, hm?"

The only outward response Stacey gave was the clenching of his fists. Subtle, but Remus noticed it. "Be careful Mr. Kaneshiro, because that sounds an awfully lot like a baseless accusation. People sue for that, you know."

"I don't doubt it. But you already know it's not so baseless, don't you? You know exactly what I’m talking about, which is why you invited us here to a shady apartment late at night, no colleague in sight."

"Remus what the hell do you think you're doing?!" A familiar voice chimed from behind him.

Remus startled out of his focus, whipping his head around. "Logan?"

"Don't look at me, you ignoramus-! You met a serial killer alone after I told you to stay away?!"

"He knows my brother, I couldn't just-!"

Remus looked back at the doctor was closer now, looking down at him pitifully. "I see now. The talking to air, the erratic behaviour, the pushing your delusions onto others… you mustn't be well. It's alright, Mr. Kaneshiro, I could easily refer you to a mental health facility who will take care of you."

"Remus, you have to get out! Now!"

"I know!" He wasn’t a complete idiot, damn it! But he needed to get Stacey to confess or-

"Ah, perfect! If you wait here, I’ll go and make a call."

Remus stepped backwards, hand going to the knife in his pocket. He needed Stacey to confess, but if he didn’t-

Unfortunately, Stacey noticed his movement and quickly grabbed his left wrist, putting way too much pressure in his grip than was necessary.

"Ah-ah. I told you to stay put, didn't I? Come now, don't be difficult. I'm only trying to get you the help you need."

If he didnt-

"Let go of him!" Logan demanded to the man who couldn't hear him.

Stacey froze, feeling the cool touch of Death on his arm as Logan tried to pull him away, and at that moment Remus pulled his knife out and stabbed him in the chest; slipping the blade right between the ribs.

Red pooled around the knife, staining his crisp white shirt vividly. Stacey stared at the knife, and dug his nails into Remus’ wrist.

"Fucker." Remus yelped with pain, pulling the weapon back out.

Finally, Stacey let go and stumbled back, hitting the wall and sliding down to the floor. His expression didn't recover from the shock from when Logan touched him; he didn't even try to apply pressure to the wound as he bled out. He just sat there until the light left his eyes, and the only sound left in the room was Remus’ laboured breathing.

"I… shouldn't have done that." Logan muttered, eyeing the limp body.

"Done what? I'm the one that killed him. That was my backup plan all along." Remus replied numbly, looking at the scene he had caused.

"I gave him the touch of Death, it's- it's an omen. I'm not supposed to use it ever."

"Gee, I'm flattered. I promise murder was always on my brain though." Remus said as he took the tape recorder out of his pocket. No need for this anymore. He wanted to get a clip of Stacey saying something incriminating so that he could defame him and ruin his reputation, but well, him not being able to benefit from a reputation at all was the next best thing.

Logan watched him, taking in the claw marks across his wrist. "...Right. He scratched you, so remember to clean under his nails."

Despite everything, Remus smiled softly at the advice. "Aww, you really care about me, don't you?"

"I- no. Absolutely not. That’s absurd" Remus snickered as Logan flushed an adorable shade of paynes grey, which he hid by going to deal with the corrupt doctor’s soul.

"...Why did you show up, by the way? There isn't anyone dead in this apartment is there?" Remus realized belatedly, looking around the empty space.

"Ah… No. Admittedly, I've been keeping a closer eye on this town than I really should, and after what happened the other day, I figured I needed to be here when I noticed you two meeting… I probably shouldn’t have.” Logan conceded.

"Well, at least you can't say this wasn't a business visit." Remus giggled to himself, wiping the blood from his knife with a tissue. Maybe he was a little giddy from the endorphins of confronting a prolific serial killer, or perhaps it was the confirmation that Logan cared for him, but either way he felt really good right now, like he could take on the world.

Logan looked at him and sighed. "I should've known you'd be trouble. No more killing, Remus. This has to be the last time."

"Of course, pinky promise~."

"...I can see you crossing your fingers behind your back, you brat."

--------------

Case 5: the one who tried to get away.

The next time they met, Remus broke his pinky promise. No surprises there.

It was hardly even a promise to begin with, but for some reason Logan expected him to stick to it. Quite foolish, if you ask Remus, given that he now had a total of three murders under his belt, and stopping there almost felt like giving up.

Of course, he had to lay low after Stacey however. The hospital was holding a memorial for his death and Remus later found out that it was ruled a break in. (Made sense, since Remus took a few of his fancy cleaning products on the way out, as a treat to himself.)

It was a shame Stacey was being remembered so honourably, but he couldn't really do anything about that. At least he wasn't out in the world hurting more people.

But unfortunately for Remus, the ruling of Stacey’s murder didn’t stop the incident from trickling into his normal life, as Virgil and Roman seemed to grow suspicious of him. Virgil didn't bring up the topic to him directly, but xe begun acting sketchy when the two of them hung out (Though that could easily be wariness after having one of xyr co-workers be killed). Oppositely, Roman brought the topic up at the first chance possible.

"Dr. Stacey was murdered the night we were supposed to meet him." Roman commented the next day they were able to have lunch together, arms crossed confrontationally. "Funny that."

"Yeah. Sounds like we had some pretty good luck, if you ask me." Remus grinned.

"Wha- why are you smiling?! A man died!" His twin hissed at him. Under his breath, as to not alert the other tables.

Remus’ grin faded. "Listen Ro-bro, I didn't want to tell you this but our good doctor wasn't as kind as you think he is. I called you off that night to help you. Trust me. It’s better off that neither of us went through with that ‘study’."

Roman leaned back, looking unconvinced. "What were you doing instead, Remus?"

"...Huh?"

"You heard me. Where were you? What's your alibi?"

"You're not accusing your own flesh and blood of murder, are you?" Remus sipped his drink casually; ice coffee with as many pumps of peppermint syrup as the barista would allow.

"Just answer the question." Siiigh, what a tightass. How did they come out the same womb?

"I was meeting an old friend, for your information. Logan." Remus smiled to himself at the inside joke.

"Logan? You've never mentioned a Logan before." Roman raised his eyebrows.

Remus leaned back in his chair with a shrug, opting to look out the window instead. By doing so he missed the flash of complicated emotions that crossed his twin’s face at the dismissive gesture.

"I don't tell you everything about my life, brother dearest."

"Clearly…"

A week or two passed since his conversation with Roman, and during that time Remus didn't get to see Logan again once. That wasn't such a terrible thing, most people would assume, to not run into a deity of death, but Remus was so bored! He wanted to see his favourite death pal again, but no opportunities arose to do that, and nothing was striking his murder-fancy.

That was until the day he saw a familiar licence plate parked outside a shop.

Remus froze in his tracks, remembering the night he last saw that car.

A woman crossing the street, a body too still, a car speeding away with no remorse-

Remus had given the licence number to the police, but clearly they hadn't done anything about it. Or perhaps they'd tried and the asshole bought them off.

He growled at the idea, startling a passer-by who was crossing around him.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long before he found out who his ire belonged to. A familiar face left the shops and begun walking towards the car; Anton, a guy who had been a year above him back in high school. Remus’ memory of the man was vague; primarily made up of snapshots of cruelty and entitlement towards those around him.

He looked exactly the same, with his annoyingly polished appearance and ugly overpriced clothes. So he was right about the police being paid off, then. Typical.

He'd just have to do something about this himself.

“I suppose there’s no point in trying to convince you to stop this, is there?”

“I mean.” Remus begun, looking down at the body he had just finished suffocating and rubbing at his bruised arms. There was more of a struggle than tv had led him to believe. “I kinda had to do this one. What? Was I supposed to connect the dots on a murder and not stalk and kill the guy who got away unpunished?”

“Most people would say yes.” Logan groaned, in the sort of tone that said he already knew he was fighting a losing battle.

“We’re not like most people though, are we?” Remus grinned, fluttering his eyelashes.

“You’re most certainly not. I’m barely a person.” Logan replied with finality.

--------------

Case 6: the one who pushed their luck.

And then shortly after;

“Come on man, don’t do this.” The masked person pleaded, hanging onto the fire-escape for dear life. Literally.

Remus raised an eyebrow, making a show of contemplating the request. “Hmm, I don’t know. You did try to pull a gun on me.”

“It wasn’t loaded, jackass!”

Remus tutted and held his foot over the person’s clammy hands. They shook violently at the unspoken threat. “And now you’re gonna wake up the whole neighbourhood too? No consideration!”

His joking tone must have angered them, because they began struggling to hoist themself back up again, red in the face with strain. “I swear, when I get up there-”

Promptly losing his interest in hearing the rest of that threat, Remus stood on their fingers, causing them to let go of the fire-escape and plummet to the street below with a strangled yell.

“Whoopsie daisy.”

He leaned over the banister, whistling innocently as a familiar presence appeared next to him. Logan joined him in peering down at the body, eyebrow raised.

“At least this one was merely an accident?” He guessed by the cause of death, a twinge of hope in his voice.

“Nah, they’ve tried breaking in at least 3 times this year. It was getting annoying.”

As Logan scolded him for his recklessness, Remus decided not to comment on it when their topic of conversation turned back towards the casual banter they usually shared. The two of them stood on the fire escape until the sun was on the edge of the horizon and Remus had to dash back to his apartment to avoid being seen by the early-commuters.

--------------

Case 8: the innocent.

And then:

Remus curiously nudged the raccoon with the tip of his boot. He’d just stumbled upon it and it still looked fresh; given that he was standing by a busy road, it was no wonder what had happened.

He was making a mental note to come back and collect the bones at a later date, when Logan appeared in-front of him in a blink, looking completely unsurprised this time around.

Remus on the other hand startled before regaining his bearings and shooting the deity a smile. “Our paths are looking less parallel by the day huh, Psychopomp-ous?”

Logan raised his eyebrows appreciatively at the word play. “It appears so. It’s quite the pleasant surprise to find you not getting into trouble for once.”

“There’s always tomorrow.” Remus wiggled his eyebrows back. “That said, I really didn’t expect to see you. I was wondering for a while if you dealt with this kind of thing too, y’know.”

Logan looked down, seeming to really notice the raccoon for the first time. He nodded after a beat. ”She had a life too. My brother brought her into the world, and so I must escort her out.”

”Yeah? Anything of note happen?” Remus asked, eyebrows raised with genuine curiosity. He’d file away the latter half of Logan’s statement for later prodding.

”...She had a family. They stayed together under the porch of an old couple.”

“Ah, to be a racoon living under a porch.” Remus lamented dreamily. “I’m glad she got to live such a rich and fulfilling life before becoming road kill. I’m truly jealous.”

“In the wild, your lifespan would most likely be around 2–3 years as a raccoon.” Logan pointed out, attempting to contradict his idealistic tone.

“Exactly. The life.”

That earned a pinched expression from Logan that made Remus titter.

“Just messing with you, prim reaper~. Now, do you have any idea how long it’s going to take for her to decompose? I have a new piece of decor to make.”

--------------

Case 11: the matchbox.

Remus watched from afar as the house on Psyche Avenue burned. It was bright and brilliant, so of course the firefighters were already on the scene, trying to calm the fire and save the occupant inside.

They’d be much too late; the trafficker was already unconscious and likely burning to death, along with any evidence Remus might have left behind. It was the perfect crime.

Satisfied with today’s work, he took a drag of a cigarette, delighted when Logan appeared beside him instead of with the dirtbag who deserved to burn forever (and since it was a mystery whether he'd end up with such a fate, it only seemed fitting for Remus to play god and speed up the process.)

“Those kill, you know.” Logan said in greeting.

“That makes two of us.” Remus grinned sharply, even when Logan rolled his eyes and pinched out the end of his cigarette.

For the second time in a month, the two of them overlooked the sky together, illuminated by the amber blazes of the fire. It almost felt like a date.

--------------

Case 13: the one with bad luck.

He was back in the alley that had imprinted itself so clearly in his memory, knife buried in the chest of a would-be assailant. Remus was boredly watching the blood seep between the bricks when Logan finally appeared to deal with the body.

“You’re late!” Remus complained with a whine. “This guy’s practically cold already.”

“Apologies. There was a flash flood across the country, and it took more of my focus to handle than I would've liked."

Remus hummed. He thought he heard something about that on the news. Mother nature could be cruel indeed. Perhaps even worse than Remus himself.

“Anyone nearby?” He checked.

“Not in a half-mile radius, no. However, the police may be on their way.”

“Plenty of time, then.” Remus said as he pulled Logan down to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

It had been months since that first drunk sloppy kiss happened, and less time since it had become a regular greeting. Remus would never get tired of the feeling of cold skin against his lips. It was like kissing marble-- if marble had a sassy mouth and a sexy amount of knowledge.

Logan pulled back first, smudging away the trail of blood running from Remus' nostril. “Did you have any trouble?”

“Nah, you should see the other guy.”

That earned a laugh-- a quiet chime that made Remus’ heart flutter. “I see them. Good job, you’re getting rather skilled at that.”

“Why, thank you~.” Remus preened under the praise. “It only took a couple tries, but I think I finally got the technique down pat.”

“Hmm. Speaking of 'Pat', my brother doesn’t seem to like this much. He’s not unappreciative of your choices in target, although he appears to be rather disapproving on the amount of times I've been called to your side."

Logan didn't talk about his brother much: the deity of life. From what little Remus had learned from his prying and Logan’s own complaints, he seemed like a bit of a killjoy. He blew a raspberry in response.

"Tell Patton to stop making so many criminals and maybe I'll consider it."

The corner of Logan's lips quirked up. "I don't think I will, as humorous as I'm sure that would be. It doesn't quite work like that."

Remus shrugged, watching as Logan looked off to the side.

"...It seems I’m needed elsewhere."

”You can’t stay? We barely got to talk.” Remus said with a pout.

“Unfortunately so.” Logan turned to the body; what he should have been there for. It wasn’t long before his focus was back on Remus, though. “That said... It’s a busy night. Perhaps we’ll meet again sooner than expected.”

Remus’ frown tipped back into a smile as he watched Logan vanish. He then turned on his heel and retrieved his knife before walking off into the night. If he was going to make good on Logan’s expectations, he better get to work.

--------------

Case 0: the one who death followed.

It soon became an established pattern; Remus would come across someone shady, and he’d put together a detailed- or straight-forward- plot on how to get rid of them. By now his city must have noticed the string of deaths, but with such a random means and very little evidence, Remus was free to continue as he pleased.

In a sense, he was untouchable with Logan by his side, pointing out anything he left behind and giving warning for any potential witnesses. Especially when he gave up on persuading Remus away from this path. It's not like the moral argument could be made anymore; the city had seen a drastic decrease in crime once Remus had taken out a lot of big players (even if there was an air of fear that lingered in the back of everyone's minds, wondering if they'd be next up on the chopping block).

All in all, it was enough to make Remus cocky; perhaps even enough so to lead to his downfall. But how was he ever going to give up now? All his life he’d been hoping for some sort of excitement to fulfil him, and he finally found it in a surprise meeting with a deity of death. Death had gone from a distant longing to something familiar and welcome; something he could use to right wrongs and feel a sense of purpose with.

And as long as he was able to exchange a life for one more meeting with his beloved partner in crime, he would do his best to stay ahead of the game.

(No matter who was out there, trying to stop the two of them.)

--------------

Writing taglist: @just-perhaps @sashootkahoot @anxious-l0ser @illogical-immunity @overlad-of-the-snakes @varthandi @whisperinginthevoid @and-this-sword @creamiiteaa-xx

Deityfucker au taglist: @arodynamic-enby @its-the-usda-certified-trashman @overlad-of-the-snakes @aromanticwhore @haha-phrog @hetalianhufflepuff @emeryyleaf @winter-wandering @gaylotusthatexists @8bituin

#my writing #sanders sides #intrulogical #remus sanders #logan sanders #(others are mentioned)#deityfucker au #death tw #violence tw #crime tw #weapon tw #swearing tw #injury tw #(lots of warnings for this one. take care!)

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dumdumsun · 4 years ago

Text

Forever and Never

A/N: Welcome back, luvs ❤️ Glad to have you back

Warnings: mentions of marijuana

Word Count: 2876

—————————————

Two: Gotta Have Soul

“What was school like for you?”

“Like, a regular school day?”

“Yeah, like a regular school day.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A normal day of school for me was like walking around in a glass bubble. This isn’t a metaphor for personal space, but rather the concept of fitting in. Clearly, I fit in at school, but not in the way I expected to. I could walk amongst my peers and smile in their faces, talk with them, but it’d be difficult to hear through the glass of my bubble. We could reach out to each other and hope for a connection, but our hands would forever be disconnected by the glass. But they seemed to be fine with it. They didn’t want to come into my bubble, they just wanted to admire me from the outside. And I supposed I was fine with that, as well. It wasn’t like I opened my bubble for anyone, even invited anyone inside. I let Dina in once and got paranoid. Paranoid that she’d take up the air, that she’d hate my bubble and what I’d have to offer within it. So, I did what I thought was best and kindly asked her to leave. Assured her that she could maybe come back another time, when I was ready. As the sweet and considerate person that she was, she had no problem with it.

Stan didn’t need to live in a glass bubble because he didn’t need to fit in. And I’ve never needed to open the bubble myself to allow him access. He was welcome anytime and entered as he pleased. He was the only person who understood me. I realize that we had more in common than I thought. No one understood our fashion senses, our tastes in music, the way we preferred to keep to ourselves. I could breathe around him and smile and laugh, I mean actually laugh. It was just a shame it all had to wait until after school. Stan and I lived in two different worlds at school. Sometimes I’d catch a ride with him if he left his house the same time I did mine. The second we would set foot on the school campus, we were strangers. It wasn’t that we were embarrassed of each other, I just think Stan was intimidated by the crowd I attracted. Hell, I was intimidated by the crowd I attracted. I’d much rather be walking down those halls with Stan, Dina, and Sydney (if she was comfortable with me). Luckily, I had classes with each of them.

I had nearly every class with Dina, save for honor choir and theatre classes. We found a way to sit near each other in every class we had and talked about everything and nothing for the entire hour. Half of my classes were with Stanley, and those hours were full of glancing at each other and playfully winking or blowing kisses. He’d pass me notes old-school style, but always avoided the route that would lead to either Ricky or Brad. We had a couple of run-ins that led to them teasing Stan before the note could even reach me. Study hall was one of the only times Stan and I would actually sit together and talk in school. Sometimes we’d study, sometimes we’d skip and go smoke outside. Nonetheless, we’d make the most out of our time together.

I only had two classes with Sydney and both included Dina, so there still wasn’t much going on between us at school. She wasn’t as active in gym class as we were, so it was a lot of her cheering us on when we played basketball or dodgeball. She was usually the person to hand me Stan’s notes in science, having to dodge Ricky and Brad’s grabbing hands so that I could quickly snatch it. Luckily, I only had two classes with Ricky and Brad, and they both included Dina and Stan. So, I was never trapped in an uncomfortable situation with Ricky before their eyes.

Science was the most chaotic class for me. Not only did I not care for the subject, but my seat was away from both Stan and Dina. I was nearly sandwiched between Ricky and Brad, which set me on edge most days. Despite this, I simply tried my best to focus on my school work. “And yes, during arousal, there is an increase in all sorts of things, including adrenaline and, of course, blood flow,” Mr File droned on as I wrote down notes in my notebook. Dina always said she thought it was cute how I used different colors for each day. Little did she know, once I started this system, I couldn’t stop it. This was to the point that I had to buy a set of pens for each class. I couldn’t use my green math pen for my Tuesday science class. “And the blood flow continues down and then gets trapped within the corpora cavernosa. The penis expands, and this is how the Homo sapien male is able to hold an erection. Yes?”

My attention was diverted to Bradley, who raised his hand. Once he was called on, he set his hand back down and straightened his posture. “From my experience, Mr File, the holding of an erection is far more successful in the hands of a Homo sapien female.” His inappropriate joke sent an eruption of laughter throughout the classroom. I rolled my eyes in irritation.

“Very funny, Mr Lewis.” Mr File deadpanned.

“Just talkin’ science.”

“Moving on.” As my teacher turned back to the chalkboard, Ricky and Brad reached over my head to high five each other. I scoffed and continued on with my notes. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ricky turn around to speak to Sydney.

“Ah. Oh, come on, fire crotch. Laugh. That was funny.”

“Don’t be a prick, Ricky,” I hissed, the boy’s head snapping over to me. “It wasn’t even that funny.”

Ricky tilted his head at me and gave a soft smile, his hand reaching over and clasping around my wrist. “Okay, babe, I’ll leave your friend alone-”

“And don’t call me babe.” I yanked my wrist from his grasp. He froze, shocked, his mouth opening and closing as if at a loss for words.

“Mr Berry, if you could take your eyes off of Ms (Y/L/N) for one second to listen to my lecture, that would be very much appreciated.” At the sound of Mr File’s voice, Ricky quickly turned forward and returned to his notes.

“I’ll definitely try my best, sir.” He smirked, Bradley chuckling and reaching over my head again to give his friend another high five. My eyes fell on Stanley, who was watching the interaction in annoyance. When his gaze met mine, he gave me a sympathetic look. I only held my fingers in the position of a gun up to my temple and pretended to fire it. He shook his head in amusement before turning his attention back to Mr File. Glancing over my shoulder, I watched as Sydney glanced between Dina and our teacher before her gaze settled on me. She gave me a small smile and mouthed a ‘thank you’. I winked at her and gave a thumbs up. That was the start of one of the very few friendly interactions we’d have throughout the week.

On my way home from school that day, I spotted Syd and ran to catch up with her. “Hey, Sydney.” I grinned, the girl jumping a bit when I appeared by her side.

“O-Oh. Um, hey, Zip.”

“You don’t have to call me that,” I chuckled. “You’re normal.”

She smiled and stared down at her feet. “Uh… Why are you walking with me?” I frowned at her question, but she raised her head quickly. “Like, no offense, but… you usually just… keep to yourself. Or you get a ride from Stanley.”

“I stayed after for theatre rehearsal,” I shrugged. “But we never talk. We’re neighbors, Syd. And we’re both friends with Dina. Isn’t it weird we never talk?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I guess it is.”

“I’m not saying we should hang out everyday and tell each other secrets, but… you know.”

“No, yeah, I get it. I mean, Dina likes you… So does everyone else, so you must be really cool to be around.”

“Well, that’s something you can find out for the both of us. Because I still don’t get it…” I turned my head forward, my voice trailing off. We continued our journey home in comfortable silence, every now and then striking up pebble throwing contests. Sydney had a really nice smile. It was a shame she didn’t use it much. When we reached my street, our walk didn’t last much longer. “Here’s my stop.” I announced, stepping away towards the mailbox to retrieve our mail. Sydney nodded with a smile.

“I’ll, uh… I’ll see you tomorrow-”

“Oh, hey, Syd!” Stan’s voice called out. We both turned our heads to see him getting up from his porch, making his way to the middle of the street to meet Syd. “And my lovely Zip.”

“Hey, beautiful.” I winked, pulling out a couple envelopes from the box. Stanley chuckled fondly at me before looking back to Syd, who was waiting expectantly.

“Oh, my leg fell asleep. One sec,” He then began shaking and stretching his leg, Sydney standing by awkwardly. The sight alone was enough to have me quietly laughing to myself. Stan let out a sigh once he was done and planted his foot back on the ground. “Can I walk with you?”

“Sure. Why not?” Syd shrugged. Stan smiled and turned forward with her.

“Cool.”

As they walked away, I noticed one of the envelopes was addressed to me. Maybe a bit too enthusiastically, I ripped it open. Inside was a lonely check. No note. Just like last time. And the time before that. Taking out the check, my eyes bulged at the number written down. Four hundred dollars?! Four hundred fucking dollars from Dad in two weeks! I tried to think of the upcoming dates. Was Aunt Pam’s birthday coming up? Uncle David’s? Jacob’s? No one’s. So… why did Dad send me twice as much this time? My head lifted to find Stanley happily dancing back up to his house, twirling and jumping with his bare feet. I laughed at the sight. As he descended the slope to his house, he motioned for me to follow. Setting the mail on the porch swing, I pocketed my check and hurried down to Stan’s.

-------------------------------------------------

“What about this one?” I held up Elton John’s Goodbye Yellow Brick Road on vinyl. “I love me some Elton John.”

“Whatever you want, Nugget.” I heard him from the couch. Satisfied with my decision, I put the music on, nodding to the beat of Crocodile Rock as I joined Stanley on the couch. He had just taken out one of his pre-rolled joints from his case and was lighting it up.

“So…”

“So?”

“What’s up with you and Sydney Novak?” I cheekily grinned, my friend puffing on the smoke as he removed the joint from his mouth. “You wanted to… walk with her?”

“I wanted to hang out with her. We’ve never hung out before. I just thought she’d want more friends.”

“Uh-huh…” I raised a brow, taking the joint when it was offered to me. As I inhaled the smoke, Stan waved me off.

“Whatever. So… what’s been going on with you? It’s been about three weeks since you got back and you haven’t spoken a word about where you disappeared to.”

I quickly handed the joint back as I exhaled, the smoke clouding my vision. “Yeah, I don’t really wanna talk about that��”

“Oh.” Stan cleared his throat.

“Let’s just say it was… very depressing.”

“Well, what about your dad? How’s he been?”

“He’s good, I think. Working in Georgia still. Oh!” I lifted my hip a bit to retrieve the check from my back pocket. “Look at this fucking shit, Stan! My dad sends me a two hundred dollar check every two weeks. But look what I got this time.” Stan leaned over, squinting his eyes as if he weren’t seeing right.

“Four hundred?!”

“Four hundred!”

“Jesus, (Y/N), what does he do?!”

“In all honesty, Stan, I have no fucking idea. He doesn’t like talking about it.”

“Well, that’s not suspicious at all.” Stan mumbled, silencing himself by placing the joint between his lips. It didn’t take too long for our highs to kick in. When they did, we were draped over one another, lazily drawing shapes in the air. I reached over and tickled Stan’s foot, which was just beside my head. He quietly giggled and retracted his foot from me. I laughed loudly and dropped my arm.

“Stan?”

“Yeah?”

“This is where we peak, huh? This is, like, as good as it gets,” I watched as he lifted his head, attempting to make eye contact with me. “Like, we’re not gonna have shit going for us besides a lousy paycheck we slave for. And we’re gonna settle for someone who makes us all feel a little less lonely… or we just end up alone and blame everyone else for it. And then… In, like, ten years we’re gonna go to our high school reunion and then we’re gonna find out that… We all were pieces of shit at the age of seventeen and that’s as good as we got. It’s as good as we’ll ever get,” I pointed to him. “At least, that’s what you told me.”

“Nugget… you talk too much,” He flopped back onto the ground. “But yeah, you’re right. But, like… not you.”

“Not me?”

“No, you’re gonna… move away again. But for good. You’re gonna become the best… damn actress of our time and you’re gonna walk on red carpets and go on talk shows and go ‘Yeah, my best friend Stanley Barber was the best thing that’s ever happened to me’, and then-”

“That’s not how I talk!” I burst out laughing, which triggered his own laughter. We spent the next few moments rolling on the floor, trying to catch our breaths in the midst of our cackling. Even in my haze, I thought to myself, If this is where I peak, I’m the most successful of them all to peak with Stan. How could no one have wanted to hang out with him? He was the only thing that kept me sane most days with his carefree philosophy on life. There was never a dull moment with him. Never a single second of doubt in his ability to make me smile, to make me feel good about myself. And maybe it was selfish to depend on him that much, but I hadn’t even realized I’d been doing it.

When our highs almost completely wore off, I wished Stan a goodbye and headed back home. Entering the house, Jacob was just about to exit. “Oh, hey, Bug-” He stopped and sniffed. “You smell like weed.”

“You’ll live.” I smiled and walked inside. In the kitchen, Aunt Pam was making dinner while dancing to the music on the radio. Upon my arrival, she clapped and went to hug me.

“(Y/N), how was your-” She stepped back and sniffed. “Ugh, you smell like weed…”

“Sorry.”

“I honestly don’t care. But I wanted to tell you that you should call your dad. It’s been a couple of weeks with no call. Remember he said he’d check on you every other day?”

“I remember. I’ll call him right now.” Heading upstairs to my room, I pulled out my cell phone. I accessed my contacts before pressing on my dad’s, holding the phone up to my ear. When the call was answered, there was no greeting. Just faint breathing from the other end. “Uh… Dad-”

“Hey, sweetheart,” He rushed out, sounding out of breath. “What- What did you call for?”

“What did I… Dad, you said you’d call me three times a week. It’s been two weeks with no call.”

“You’re right, you’re right, doll.” He sighed. I frowned in disgust. He never called me ‘doll’. “How’s school going? Straight A’s?”

“Um… not really,” I mumbled as I entered my bedroom, setting my backpack on the ground before flopping on my bed, sighing contently. “A couple of B’s, but I’m trying. Uh, I got the check.”

“Yeah, yeah, your allowance.” He huffed.

“Uh-huh… but you gave me twice as much.”

“Yeah, for homecoming. Pam said it was next week.”

“Oh, yeah…,” I rolled onto my back. “Almost forgot.”

“Yeah, so just… buy yourself something pretty- Listen, sweetheart, I’ve gotta go, but I promise to call you in two days.”

“Okay, Dad. Love you-” I was cut off when he abruptly hung up the phone. Sighing, I let my arm flop down beside my head. If I had to be completely honest, that was normal behavior from my dad lately. Sure, I mentioned he wasn’t present in his mind, but this was different. He was clearly occupied. Very occupied. I brushed it off as him being hard at work, but…

Something told me there was more going on with my Dad. And it scared me.

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Taglist: @melinda-hargreeves @sapphicsyn @stqnley @lonely-kermit @give-the-boy-a-hug @moatsnow

#i am not okay with this #ianowt #stanley barber #stanley barber x reader #stan barber #wyatt oleff #wyatt oleff x reader #i am not okay with this x reader #ianowt fanfic #ianowt x reader #ianowt stanley barber #forever and never

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bookishofalder · 4 years ago

Text

Celebrity Swingers Club

Request: @bbarton -hi!! could i request adam driver x reader <3 they are dating and one night they go out or something and someone starts hitting on the reader aggressively and he gets very protective and jealous :)

A/N: Honestly the idea for this stemmed from a random and hilarious conversation I was having with my friend the other day. I wanted to keep this one light and silly, so I hope it makes you smile! 🥰

Warnings: Dash of SMUT, language.

Adam was missing you today, even though he’d seen you mere hours ago, wrapped in his arms in bed at the hotel. And you were on set today as well, even. But this happened towards the end of filming, for a lot of actors. The inevitable mixture of melancholy, pride, restlessness and exhaustion. It was exacerbated by being on location, though he had to admit of all the locations he’d been to for a film, he had little to complain about here in Hawaii.

But nearing the end of filming meant that time became more constrained, and you and he saw less of one another. He supposed it was part of the honeymoon phase, after all, you’d only been married about 5 months before production started on this latest project.

Today, he just wanted to see you, even if just for a short while.

So when they called lunch, he was quick to depart the set and make a beeline for the cafe, where he had two orders of lunch preordered for pickup. He thanked the staff, having a brief conversation with the cafe crew about how much he had to bribe them for the recipe to his favourite meal (seriously, it was one of the best dishes he’d ever encountered, but they wouldn’t give it up!). With a laugh and a shrug of defeat, he said his goodbyes and started toward the makeup trailers.

He figured you’d be working with your assistant to tidy up from the morning, as many fake injuries were needed for the scenes they were filming. You complained that these left your workstations a disaster. But he knew you loved creating the wounds, a macabre alternative to the glamour or ‘regular’ looks you specialized in. It had been alarming the first time he’d walked in on you in the bedroom you shared at home to find you looking at horrifically graphic photos and making notes.

As he approached your trailer, your assistant, Bailey, was making her way hurriedly down the steps. Adam greeted her with a wide grin. “Hey Bailey, sneaking away?”

“Sneaking away is accurate, Carter is in there,” She replied, her lips set in a thin line, “Seriously, I know he means well, but he really is a bit much.”

Adam nodded in understanding, as he too found the young actor a little...obnoxious. And while Adam had no illusions to his idiosyncrasies and perpetual ‘asshole’ persona; he still made a point of not falling into conversation with Carter. It was tiring, as the kid would speak non-stop, jumping from topic to topic so quickly it gave his listeners whiplash, and when he’d finish, he’d merely take a breath and launch into another speech unless he was cut off.

But he was a good enough kid and a great actor. Someone that, professionally, Adam was happy to work with. Just like Bailey, however, he had his limits when it came to patience in dealing with Carter offset. And Adam knew his wife all too well, he knew you were in the trailer, abandoned by Bailey, being an absolute gem to the kid. Letting him talk your ear off while you no doubt worked to get your station fully tidied before being called to set after lunch for touch-ups.

“Well, I’d better go rescue her, I’ll see you later.” He sighed, and Bailey gave him a sympathetic, knowing smiling before running off.

You kept your trailer especially cool, which Adam had always appreciated. You said it was for your art, but he also knew you did it for him, as he always ran a lot warmer than most. Stepping inside, he first turned left toward the dining area and set the food boxes down on the table. When he glanced around and didn’t see you in the main room, he made his way to the door that led into the meeting room, which had a large sink that you used for cleaning off your palettes and brushes. The door was halfway cracked and as Adam stepped up, he heard Carter’s voice.

“Honestly, totally no big deal, (y/n). Married, single, divorced-whatever,” Adam was right at the door now, looking in he saw your back, shoulders rigid in a way that he knew meant you were uncomfortable, and pointedly washing off a palette with determined vigour. “You’re fit, and I’m an honest person, so I just wanted to put it out there. You could even ask Adam if you-“

Leaning against the door frame, Adam slid the pocket door the rest of the way open, his eyes focused on Carter. “Ask Adam what?” His voice low, he was trying to control his temper-he didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

Carter had broken off the moment he saw Adam in the doorway, mouth slightly open in surprise. “Oh, hey Adam!” He quickly rearranged his expression to a more pleasant one.

But when you spun around and Adam saw the genuine relief flush across your face, his heart rate increased. He crossed his arms, inwardly happy that he was still wearing only a t-shirt, his muscles flexing slightly.

“Ask me what, Carter.”

The kids’ eyes widened, “I was, well, I mean I was saying to (y/n)-“

Adam cut him off again, “My wife. You were saying to my wife.” Out of the corner of his eye, Adam could see you biting back a smile.

Carter stuttered, “Yes! Of course, I was saying-to your wife-that I’d be down for a, you know,” He shrugged, though his tense posture and wide eyes gave away how utterly not calm he was, “Some fun, Hollywood style, uh, fun.”

At this, Adam frowned with confusion, glancing between Carter and you, and you rolled your eyes, “He means sex. You know, like how all celebrities are here for a good time, so we can swap partners and have sex parties and all that fun stuff we do on weekends.”

Adam’s eyes snapped to Carter, who visibly paled. Gulping he watched as Adam stepped away from the door and into the room, his eyes narrowed. “You asked my wife to fuck? Are you kidding me?” Moving nearer to you, Adam pointed at the door, “Get the fuck out of here, stay the fuck away from my wife, and expect a call from my manager.”

Though his voice had been quiet, the message and severity of his words were all too clear to Carter, who uttered a quick apology before running out of the trailer at full speed. When the door slammed closed behind him, you burst out laughing, peals of giggles that brought a smile to Adam’s face despite his anger.

“Oh god, that poor kid actually thought we had like, celebrity swingers clubs,” You broke down in another fit of giggles, one hand clutching your stomach, and Adam couldn’t help but join in.

After a few minutes, he stepped closer to you and pulled you into his arms, where you rested your head on his chest, your arms snaking around his waist. It hadn’t been the first time he’d encountered someone unabashedly hitting on you, though this was the most unique proposition he thinks you'd been offered.

“That was the first time that one could interpret that I was included in the deal,” He considered aloud, causing you to laugh loudly again. “I’m not sure if I should be more, or less, offended.”

“Carter is a gullible fantasist. I’d put money down that someone told him there was a sex club he was missing out on.”

“If that��s the case,” Adam replied, pulling back slightly to look down at you, “Then whoever told him that is going to get a piece of my mind when I find out who they are. I fucking hate when men hit on you.”

Your gaze softened, a small hand reaching up to stroke his jaw in a soothing motion that always seemed to work on him. “I know, babe,” You whispered, your hand sliding from his jaw to grab the back of his neck, pulling him closer. With your mouth a breath away from his, you added, “I missed you today.” And then your lips pressed to his.

Without hesitation, Adam deepened the kiss, his blood rushing as your mouth opened for him and then he was licking into you, tasting you. A small moan escaped you as you pressed yourself against him, returning his fervour. One of the things he adored about you was the energy that you saved just for him. Every kiss, every touch, they were always fire, always intense and needy. You kissed him like it was the first time, every time, no matter how tired you might be, how hard you might have worked that day.

He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to yours, each of you panting. “I love you, sweet girl.”

“Love you too, big.” You murmured, your lips wrapping seductively around the nickname you had for him. He smiled, reaching his hands up to cup your face, thumbs stroking the soft skin.

“I brought lunch, by the way.”

You pulled back further, leaning around him to look toward the dining table. Eyes lighting up upon seeing the take out containers that held your favourite meal, you glanced between Adam and the food a few times.

“Seeing you get all jealous worked me up,” Your words were thoughtful, brows furrowed in mock consideration, “I think we have time for a quickie before we ea-AH!”

You shrieked a giggle as Adam lifted you up, pressing his lips to yours before seating you on the table. He reached toward the door and quickly shut it, turning the lock, before looking back down at you.

With a dark look in his eyes, he stepped between your legs, hands gripping your shoulders gently, “Might need to leave a mark or two, remind everyone who you belong to.” And then his lips were on your collarbone, biting possessively before his tongue would lave out to soothe the mark. Your hands found his hair, fingers carding through the raven locks as you moaned in delight.

“All yours, big.” You sighed, and Adam smiled against the skin of your chest, his hands dropping to your hips so that he could ease your leggings off and bring your bodies together.

The food would go cold, but the trailer had a microwave. And really, neither of you were all that hungry at the moment, anyway.

Did you enjoy this story? Please consider reblogging or commenting to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Likes are basically just a bookmark!

#reader insert #fanfic #adam driver x reader #adam driver #adam driver x you #angst #adam driver fanfiction #just for fun #requested #love

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vorvoros · 3 years ago

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Roman Stańczak

Arithmetic of Platonic Love / Rachunek z miłości platonicznej, 1994

I would like to speak about the reasons and circumstances of the creation of this work. Krzysztof, a person close to me for a long time, gave me quite an unusual and very personal gift that at first astounded and embarrassed me.Something poignant and grim emanated from this gift; however, I hesitantly accepted it, not really knowing what to do with something so peculiar. I also did not understand why I am the addressee of it. Perhaps it was determined by the period of several years when Krzysztof visited my house and during which we became friends. Along with Cris (my wife) we got used to the fact that he was our regular guest and participant in our lives. In a large plastic bag, which he gave me with the words: “it is stuffed with Suffering,“ there were several hundred of ladies tights, stockings and nylon knee-socks.Gathering such an unusual collection took Krzysztof almost ten years, which required extraordinary consequence and special taste for this kind of clothing that in everyday life is used exclusively by women. This collection, both in its dense and billowed, multi-colored mass, as well as through its individual elements arouse disgust and irrepressible repulsion, because each piece was previously used, worn out by their owner and thrown in the trash, where it soaked unpleasant odor and was exposed to all kinds of accidental contamination.For several days the gift lay abandoned in a corner of the studio, but the thought of it gave me no peace, especially that Krzysztof was asking about it at subsequent meetings and clearly expected some kind of commentary and summary of the whole story. When thinking about the stockings and their donor, I turned my attention to the fact that in such an abnormal behavior and, too many, such repulsive rags, Krzysztof saw hidden deep emotions and meanings. By that action he expressed feelings – desire and unfulfilled passion for all the anonymous people hidden behind each pair of this special garment. Stockings wrap legs, are in the closest relationship with the intimate areas of the female body. They can become a second skin united with the belly, buttocks, hips, calves, feet and toes. In that case they soak the smell and fluids: sweat, organic liquids, and often, blood. This nylon matter is treated in the same way as snakeskin, it is abandoned when no longer fulfils its function, and is replaced by a new one. In this process an element of hope for the rebirth of the body is included. One of the functions performed by tights or other legs’ coverings is masking the process of aging and destruction occurring in the human body. If I look at these items yet from another perspective, most often they serve to emphasize the difference of gender, sexuality and eroticism. Krzysztof is a collector of relics. In his obsession there is something of a longing for entering into intimate relations and love, however, not just with one woman, but with all women that have ever lived on the planet - mothers, adolescent girls, children, in the end - elders. This collection of women’s “skin” is an act of total, undeniable love for “hyper-woman”. It is also an expression of loneliness and loss, despair over the frailty of communication between the sexes, between people in general.Handling a dialogue with Krzysztof required overcoming the barriers of disgust, to get rid of the repulsion to decaying matter and to make an effort to understand the motives that governed his mad venture. The “dialogue” took place in a small studio, after the period of my hesitation. I decided, out of the whole arsenal of diverse, individual textiles, to create a single body - a body, the object of love. I started putting on the naked body, piece by piece, the collection lying on the floor. During this event I noticed an unusual richness of the species and types of “skins”, it was possible to distinguish the fashion and styles, trace the history of the trends in hosiery fashion that prevailed for decades. Materials underwent changes, although these artificial dominated, polyamide, and others. The transparent nets of colors were overlapping: flesh-color, blacks, whites, sea blues, yellows, greens, bloody reds. I put on one layer onto another; elastic fibers went deep into my flesh. After an hour I had already so thick mass of tights and stockings on my legs that the original shapes of my limbs completely lost their form – they became cylindrical and deformed. Tightening textile hindered the lower body parts from getting enough blood; I felt numb and was losing the feeling in my legs, as well as control over them. Shell formed out of gums extremely firmly clutched the belly – was crushing the stomach and intestines. My fingers were skinned from putting on the harsh fabrics. My movements were so constrained that I was not able to draw on these “skins” anymore, then the donor himself came to the rescue, who up until then had been watching my struggle, and started the before mentioned “dialogue”. There I was, lying on the floor and he put on me more individual, delicate elements of his collection that - stratifying - were becoming more and more dangerous. Ninety minutes later I decided to break this “dialogue.” Huge amounts of layered material constituted a hard, compact mass. The time came for taking off the “super skin” that had come into being; crawling out of the “cocoon of suffering.”That seemingly ordinary act of exposure seemed to be extremely difficult to carry out in that situation, because it was about taking off everything at once. In reality the performance looked like applying first aid, coming to the rescue. In collaboration with Krzysztof we managed to uncover fragments of the body piece by piece, liberate the hip, groin, thighs, and knees. The cocoon began to reverse. The feet appeared, but they could not break free from the grip, pause and another attempt. Krzysztof pulled the tense form with great dedication, another pause and resumption of the effort. After long lasting attempts he managed to free one foot, the other one was still to be freed. After a while he succeeded. A strange cocoon of fabric lay on the floor and next to it significant amount of unused clothes still remained. Later the described action had to be repeated two more times. In this way I created three forms that have become a major part of the sculpture. R.S.

#Roman Stańczak

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secondhand-trash · 5 years ago

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Winner Takes It All

A/N: so I’m the one doing Shinsou, who would have guessed?;)

Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi x f!reader

Word count: 1678

Warning: nsfw below cut

Shinsou felt the need to defend himself here, because he had no idea what the prize was before he actually won.

He simply jumped onto it because his housemates was being very loud about it and they flipped him off when he slammed the door opened after a long day of training asking them to tone the “animalistic howling” down. It was only out of sheer pettiness that he looked up whatever gaming tournament they were screaming about and pure dumb luck that he ended up beating many other players probably way more familiar at the game than him.

He was still staring at the blinking screen in utter confusion when his friend barged into his room yelling strong strings of profanities, some he hadn’t even heard of before, leaving like a storm as they did when they come in and told him to “have fun with (y/n) on your face”.

It was only then that Shinsou remembered about how the email telling him that he won mentioned something about a prize and after leaning forward to read the very small lines on his screen, he wasn’t sure if he should be mortified or excited that he got to have a camgirl sit on his face as a reward for winning the tournament.

Now, the right thing and the thing he was going to do was to politely reply to that email saying that while he appreciated the offer and it was not of any disrespect towards ms (y/l/n) but he was simply uncomfortable with the idea of letting a complete stranger sit on his face and he would much rather if the opportunity goes to someone who will make good use of it. But his curiosity got the better of him and he ended up in your streams after typing your name in the search bar. He was supposed to take a small peak and leave, but he stayed through the whole show, and came back the next day

And the next day.

And the day after that.

One slip of the virtue could truly lead to great mistakes and now he was in the elevator, going up to the hotel room that the organiser of the event had booked for the occasion, where you would be waiting for him.

A mistake? Yeah, yeah, he could keep saying that as if it could hide how shaky his hand was when it reached for the door.

The click of the lock had his heartbeat sped up and he took a deep breath, trying very hard to remain his composure when the door creaked open. You peaked out, a bathing robe wrapped snuggly around you and his face heated up when the images of what he had seen through the screen flashed through his mind. But still he was not an animal, and looking at someone who he just met like they were a piece of meat would be the last thing he ever does.

“Hello.” “Hey.”

You hated how meek your voice sounded. You filmed yourself doing far more promiscuous things than this for thousands of people to see on a regular and yet facing someone who you were supposed to get intimate with just like that still managed to fill you with nerves. You were a professional, damn it, you should not be this nervous. Perhaps opening the door to finally see the winner had did nothing to ease your jitters. He was nothing like what you imagined, certainly far more attractive than you had expected. Lean frame but his exposed arms hinted that there was something to look forward to under those layers, and you felt the excitement in you building up.

“Would you like to come in?”

There was a slight tint of awkwardness glooming the room as he walked in and it was just the two of you. He was not as eager as you thought he might be, starting off by a near unnatural attempt at small talk, his expression a very incomprehensible form of stoic. It was rather endearing that he was trying to get to know you beyond the bounds of what he was promised, perhaps it would not be too bold to say that you were starting to enjoy his presence. Before you knew it, you cut off his rambling with a chaste peck at the corner of his lips and pulling him towards the bed. You asked with a teasing smile that “Perhaps we can move onto what you are here for?”, the smile turning into a chuckle when he, whose name was Shinsou as he told you, turned a darker shade of pink and mumbled a soft response.

You enjoyed his reaction when he saw you slowly undid the knot of your bathrob, his eyes widening from where he laid on the bed and his shirt discarted to the ground as you instructed him to. You were wearing barely anything, only a pair of thin lace panties and nothing else. Shinsou’s breath hitched at his throat when you slowly climbed over him, your fingers trailing up his chest as you did so. He seemed to be hesitating, his hands placed at the side as his hot breath fanned your cheek from how closely you leaned down on him.

“Are you really ok with this?” He asked, his eyes darting away from your naked frame to your grinning face.

“Of course,” you said as your traced the muscle on his arm, enjoying the way his throat bobbed at the contact, “you can touch me, you know?”

He tentatively placed his hand on your waist as you hovered above his face. The supple skin under his touch and the sight was enough to send blood rushing to his crotch. With the way his grip on you was so feather light, it was certain that he was still holding back. But the last bit of his rationality holding him back was broke loose when you arched your back at the first lick of his tongue from your clothed slit all the way to where the sensitive nub would be and moaned.

The same sound that rang by his ear every time his desires got the upper hand and clicked into your live streams was so much more tempting when he heard it in person. Reaching down to shove the fabric to the side, this time he did not hesitate when he latched his lips onto your folds. Your hands gripped onto the headboard for balance as you lowered yourself onto him even more, his kitten licks sending you into a frenzy when you felt his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs.

His eyes met yours when you looked down. You looked so good with your face flushed and lips parted, the sight only made him more eager and you mewled when you felt the wet muscle plunged into your tight pussy, his nose brushing at your clit as he swirled his tongue against your walls. The position you were in was supposed to give you more control but it was apparently not the case as his hold on you tightened while you squirmed above him, allowing him better access as he slurped up the juices that was spilling down his cheek.

Trying to get more friction, you attempted to roll your hips against his face but it was no use. You did not need to look down to know that he was smirking all while continuing his devouring of you when you whimpered. It was a wonder how he could switch from the composed persona to this devious smile once he was given the green light.

He licked and sucked on you like his life depended on it, determined to get the most out of you. You could feel the tightening at your abdomen when his hand reached up to grope your chest that was bouncing while the rest of your body shook under the pleasure.

There was no doubt that he was skilled with his mouth, pulling his tongue out of you only to latched onto your clit before you could even made a noise at the lost of friction. With the circling and flicking of the tip, it was getting harder and harder for you to hold yourself together.

With a particularly hard suck, you came crushing down. Your cries and the erotic sound of him lapping at your slit echoed off the walls. Your legs were still shaking when you slowly crawled off of his face only to be stopped by his hand pressing firmly on your back. The clear substances of your high was still dripping off his face when you looked down, his lilac irises a dark shade of lust that had you stopping in your tracks. He looked like he was warning you that you were not going anywhere, and somehow the authority in his eyes sent s throb straight down to your core.

“Do you want more?”

His deep tone did nothing to ease that ache at your pussy and with the way his lips ghosted over your inner thigh, it was like he already know your answer before you could say anything.

“Please.”

Shinsou did not waste another second as he flipped you onto your back, pushing your legs opened with his knee as he kneeled on the mattress. HIs belt unbuckled and pulled down to release his strained erection.

He leaned down to capture your lips while his hand went down to rub at your pussy, the taste of your own essence made you moaned into the kiss and adding to your arousal. The moan turned into a soundless cry when he plunged his length inside of your sopping cunt, your hand holding onto his neck as he thrust vigorously inside of you.

One slip of the virtue could turn a man into a beast, but perhaps the mistake could be far more than enjoyable for two people if done right and Shinsou sure his way around as he brought you to yet another high.

And another.

Bonus

You fell onto the mattress after you lost count on how many times Shinsou had made you cum. Your body was covered in a disgusting sheen of sweat but it didn’t seem to bother him as he pulled you close, wrapping one arm around you as he pressed you against his heaving chest.

“Why that was fun.” You said, your breaths irregular from the adrenaline and he chuckled.

“Was I too rough on you?”

“No, it was good.” You replied with a smile, enjoying the heat from his naked body. “We should totally do this again some time.”

“That good, huh?” He smirked and winced when you pinched his waist.

“Who knows,” you said with a sly grin that spread across your face, “perhaps I could even get you to join one of my shows.”

“Who knows,” he laughed, mimicking your tone as his hand tilted your jaw so that you were looking at him, “perhaps I would like that.”

#ahinsou x reader #shinsou imagine #shinsou smut #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou hitoshi smut #shinsou hitoshi imagine #bnha imagine #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bnha smut

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tact-and-impulse · 4 years ago

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Shinkane Week 2021 Day 5

For the “arranged marriage” prompt, I went for the Sengoku era.

In Place

Akane hoped that at the very least, he would be kind.

She set her mirror down, unable to look at her reflection any longer. The heavy embroidered robes, the cosmetics on her face, her hair hidden away under white silk. The guilt in her eyes.

Yuki had been the charming one, the one who was supposed to marry a general aligned with their closest neighbor. She had cheerfully shown her wedding garments to Akane during her last visit, that she had only met her betrothed once but liked him immensely and he had been pleased with her in turn. It seemed a fitting fate for Yuki, who wanted nothing more than to have a happy marriage.

Then, Sasayama Mitsuru had died on the battlefield.

The news had been delivered, along with the fact that the engagement would now be with a different general instead. Yuki had fainted and then grew feverish. It was believed that she had been weakened by the sudden upheaval of events, it was too much for her frail spirit to bear. But whatever the truth was, it would forever remain a mystery. Her dear cousin was gone too quickly, in the span of a night that left Akane numb and paralyzed.

At the funeral, she learned that the wedding would be occurring anyway. With her, in place of Yuki. She barely registered anything after that. The sewing alterations, the packing of her belongings, the trousseau moved to her room, that would only remain so for another two weeks.

Most of the ceremony passed in a blur. She kept her eyes downcast, sensing that her new husband was taller than she was and catching the aroma of kizami when he moved. He must have smoked the shredded tobacco, and she racked her mind for what else she knew about him. He was a little younger than Sasayama had been, but he had already cultivated a favorable reputation. Had he ever met with Yuki?

She glanced up at him, and though she didn’t recognize his handsome features, she couldn’t complain. His expression was stoic, serious. Then, his gaze slid to her, and she immediately turned back to the proceedings. She was much more aware of her surroundings, than she had been since Yuki’s death.

She actually tasted her food at the celebratory dinner, though her appetite hadn’t fully returned yet. Her husband wasn’t faring any better, and in her periphery, he was frowning. As the guests descended into merrymaking and she sipped her sake, he spoke for the first time.

“Do you want to leave?”

Oh. Well, there was that part to a wedding, and she hurriedly downed the rest of her drink. Swallowing the burn, she agreed. “Y-yes.”

His hand was larger than hers, callused and strong, but he touched her gently and she appreciated that. Her face flamed at the cheering and his grip tightened. The hallway was quieter, the party’s sounds muffled, and she felt like she could breathe.

“I hope everyone will behave.” She said aloud, as he presumably led the way to the chamber. Their chamber.

“They’re only pleased about the alliance. It would have been the same, whether it was us or your cousin and my friend. We’re a couple of shogi pieces, that’s all.” His voice was dark with resentment, but it wasn’t bad to listen to.

“I’m sorry about your friend. General Sasayama was kind enough, from what I remember. He and Yuki could have been happy together. Not that it matters now…” The grief opened up again, the cloudiness returning.

“No, it doesn’t. He was too reckless, he got himself killed because he wasn’t satisfied, and his death took your cousin with him.” Outwardly, he sounded angry, and he slammed the door a little too hard. Inside the room, a lantern illuminated the sparse interior. One futon, with two pillows. He pulled her inside, before taking hold of the sliding door again. She wasn’t sure where to look, what to do. Of course, the basic instructions had been provided, but she was too nervous to start anything. She flinched as his sleeve brushed hers, and he must have noticed.

He walked around her, taking one of the pillows and tucking it under his arm. “Are you tired?”

“A little. It’s been a long day.” She let out a shaky laugh.

“Then, get some rest.” He blew out the lantern, the room plunging into darkness. She clutched her embroidered outer kimono, trying to still her trembling fingers. But he never approached, his footsteps drifting away. “That’s your side. This is mine.” A pause. “Good night.”

“…Good night?”

The silence crept up, and when she realized nothing would happen tonight, she smiled.

***

They still hadn’t consummated the marriage, when she traveled with him. He explained that until winter, they would be residing with his lord’s family and she would be assisting the lady, while he was on campaign.

“Do you know how to use a naginata?”

“I have some training.”

“Rely on it. We get attacked on a regular basis.”

“Eh?” She hadn’t heard of that before. “What about the castle’s defenses?”

“They’re adequate, but you should be prepared, in case there’s a spy. Don’t trust anyone easily.”

“Not even you?”

“If I act dishonorably, you shouldn’t hesitate.”

“I don’t think you will.”

His gaze might have softened, but he never responded.

Within the castle town, she was introduced to a variety of people. The lord, who seemed rather easygoing, and his demure, proper wife accompanied by her ladies-in-waiting. The metsuke, Ginoza. The seasoned general, Masaoka, and the recently promoted Kagari. There was even a warrior woman, Kunizuka. They all seemed pleasant, addressing her as the wife of General Kougami. It was strange at first, but she did her best to be just as kind.

Meanwhile, she and her husband slept apart from each other, as much as they could with one bed. He hadn’t made a move yet. She considered that he had a mistress, but from what Kagari told her, he only trained in his spare time. And although it was commonplace, she didn’t like the idea that there was another woman. He always came back to her anyway.

He had seen the books she brought with her and skimmed through each one. He genuinely seemed interested in her tastes and didn’t belittle her opinions. His questions were direct, calculating, and purposeful. He shared his books too, marked with his notes. Her husband had neat handwriting, she thought. In the evenings, he smoked his pipe as he read his own papers, and she found the sight comforting.

Not long after her arrival, an enemy clan drew too close. The entire household mobilized, and she saw him off. Along with his armor, he had a mask to resemble a wolf’s open mouth, but she didn’t feel any terror. It was only her husband, who was resolute and intelligent. She had faith in him.

“Be careful. I hope you’ll win.”

“Ah.” His hand lifted and for a moment, she thought he was going to touch her face. Instead, he ruffled her hair. “I’ll return soon.”

She watched him leave, feeling oddly empty.

It was a harder fight than expected, and the news came that they had been breached. The lady was newly pregnant, and after ensuring her safety, Akane took up her naginata and headed for the battlements. She could barely see past the drizzling rain, and the clamor was deafening. An arrow whizzed past her hair, and she felt pain and a warm trickle past her temple. But she kept going, searching for any unfamiliar faces.

At one corner, there were two figures, one readying to finish off his prone opponent. It was hard to discern who they were, but the man who was down seemed to have a mask. In the dim torchlight, she spotted the painted fangs on porcelain. She lunged forward and drove her naginata into the stranger, who tumbled over the wall.

“Akane!” Her husband was surprised to see her, and he struggled to rise. With her aid, he was able to stand. He’d suffered a few minor wounds, but he was still speaking and breathing. “You’re here.”

“Yes, I couldn’t stand by and wait.”

He blinked, the rain in his eyes. “Where’s the lady?”

“She’s in hiding. I’m glad you’re alright.”

“So are you.” He gripped her shoulder, and he gave a strained smile. “Stay safe!” Before she could reply, he was running off. She sincerely prayed he wouldn’t die, and she lifted her spear with renewed determination.

By dawn, the enemy had been subjugated. She had returned to their room, examining her head wound. Thankfully, the bleeding had stopped and it wasn’t very deep. She had finished bandaging it again, when the door opened.

“Shinya-san!” She rushed to him. He looked tired, but the dried blood had been cleaned off, and strips of white cloth covered his chest. She pulled him to the futon, urging him to sit and rest. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

“No.” He seemed distracted, not quite meeting her eyes.

“If you need to sleep, I’ll leave you alone.” She was about to leave, but he grabbed her wrist. He stared at his own grasp, his thumb slowly bending. She ignored the heat overcoming her, lowering her voice. “Please, tell me what you need. I’m your wife, I want to help you.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t regret saying that.” And he kissed her, with unrestrained ferocity. She was too stunned to react, and when he parted from her, his eyes were completely dark. “Did you not like it?”

“I don’t know. One more time?”

He leaned towards her again, and she tried to meet him. Gentler than before, but his fingers twining through hers demonstrated that the passion hadn’t subsided. Breaking for air, he asked. “So? Should we stop?”

“No. Never.” And she initiated, claiming his mouth. He pulled her down and for a while, there was no need for words.

Neither of them were intended to be in this marriage at first, but they were now and the life that stretched ahead wasn’t terrible at all.

#shinkaneweek #shinkane #i just keep going back in time with the historical aus huh #psycho pass

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

Text

Prince of Wishful Thinking (Tom Retrospective): Tough Love or The True Monster

Hello all you happy people and welcome back to Prince of Wishful Thinking, what is usually my look at the life and times of Tom Lucitor but since I NEED to cover the season 3 finale as vital part of Tom’s story, we’re taking one last look at the tragic tale of Meteora Butterfly before the finale sends these two stories hurtling together. You’d THINK this would be the last detour of this already sizeable arc.. and you’d be wrong as i’ll also be covering Kelly’s World, as I feel it’s vital for both “Curse of the Blood Moon” and “A Boy and his hard to remember title”, as it provides extra context for Marco’s anguish in the former.. and provides extra evidence for why a CERTAIN MOMENT in the latter pisses me off to no end.. seriously even when as universe dies and the only people left are Frankllin Richards and Galactus, there will still be a little note reading “Fuck how they treated Kelly” written in all caps so Galactus remembers to yell it.

So sadly that DOES mean it’s been three entries in this retrospective in a row that either haven’t feature Tom at all or in the case of the last episode only had him in short cameos. I mean we did get his love affair for pie but we also got a creepy goblin man forcing his girlfriend and best friend to kiss each other, his best friend being WAY to eager to jump to that conclusion, and neither considering using Marco’s Scissors because the writers only remember he has those half the time in Season 3... and clearly I ddn’t either as I forgot to mention that plot hole, something @jess-the-vampire brought up to me. Sadly I DID forget to consult on this when we talked earlier this week , and she’s not online as I write this so I won’t have her insight for this one.

But if you want some Tom content, i’m happy to share my crossover ship for the boy with you. I’ve been shipping him with Octavia from Helluva Boss lately. Because of course it’s Helluva Boss, i’ve not been at all subtle with my obession with it and much like Letterkenny, X-Men and Dragon Ball Z Abriged it is a love I never plan to be subtle about.

But I just think they compliment each other well: They have contrasting atittudes, and tastes in music, but seem like they’d share hobbies. Like taxidermy.. I could see Tom buying this... demonic combination of a badger, a skunk, a deer and my nightmares Octavia is preciously holding up.

Granted I also feel tom would both animate them with their dead souls.. and then use his new woodland friends of the dammned as a chorus to sing “Can You Picture That” from the Muppet Movie, because that’s what my mind does on a regular day. I think the contrasting attitude creates great chemstiry and it made me also realize I have a thing for ships with directly contrasting home lives. Tom has two loving decent parents who deeply love one another and at worst simply didn’t reign in his worse behavior because it was standard for demon stuff. Octavia in contrast simply has two parents, one who DOES love her and tries his best, but his best includes calling his side piece “My big dicked blitzy” right in front of her and hiring said side piece to guard them, and her mother who clearly thinks so little of her daughter’s emotional well being she hired a cowboy to shoot her daddy dead in the middle of a large crowd. The point is I think they’d be adorable and they both badly need to be happy after being emotionally fucked over by people they care about.

But alas my new ship will have to wait as we marginally important things to get down too.. things that will impact both this season and the next’s endgame and utterly destroy Eclipsa and Moon’s relationship for good. Sound fun? Well if so join me under the cut won’t you?

We open in the Pidgeon Kingdom.. and things aren’t exactly great.. and by that I mean Meteora stomped a hole through it and ravaged the place and Rich demands blood.. and vengance.. and possibly blood vengance. But not Tekken Blood Vengance.. he already has like 5 copies of that on dvd. Still needs it on Blu Ray though, hook him up if you got it.

So Moon and Eclipsa are trying to smooth this over/find out which way did she go George which way did she go, and are angrily dismissed after they try Rich’s patience, not helped by Eclipsa not being familiar with the Pidgeon Kingdom because they hadn’t slaughtered everyone who used to live there yet. Look that’s what happened, Star outright mentions in the Big Book of Spells that htey suddenly sprung up where another kingdom was and no one knows what happens. There was some bird murders up in that place.. or birdur if you will. Some birds drank some human blood. This is what Alfred Hitchock tried to warn us about with his film built on horrifying actress abuse.

The point is with some more pidgeon-led murder stabbings on the cards our heroines are trying to find her since their attempts to convince Rich not to go on an Archer Style Rampage fell on deaf ears.

But it’s clear from the second the two are alone both have diffrent priorties: Eclipsa desperatley wants to find the daughter she lost and talk her down from what sh’es become, help her become better and hopefuly heal from the pain she’s been in. She’s lost her husband, her kingdom and centuries. She can’t loose her baby girl too.

Moon on the other hand... clearly has no intrest in helping Meteora or stopping this peacefully. Her first thought is stopping Meteora. Her living through it is not necessary. It’s also clear her racisim isn’t REMOTELY gone depsite Buff Frog and Star’s best attempts and despite learning just how deeply and horribly Mewni’s engrained racism has hurt eclipsa and destoryed Moon’s own family history. To Moon this is just a big monster to fight.. i’ll dive into this more in a bit.

For now our heroines encounter an angry mob. This time their not here for Homer Simpson, but for Meteora as her rampages have destroyd their towns, livelehoods and given some weird guy a hat. It’s the best bit of the episode and i’m embarassed I forgot it happened.

So with them being no help our queens back out but end up finding some actual help: Eddie! You know the guy from the episode I skipped over... River’s cousin or something like that. He dosen’t have a wiki entry, I do not know why. He’s voiced by Rhys Dharby of Flight of the Conchords Fame whose since made quite the career as a voice actor. No major roles yet that i’m aware of, but a lot of delightful minor ones like this. It’s good to see him he was one of the highlights of that show and not just because he sang this..

youtube

Eddie showed up in the Bog Beast of Boggabah and I honestly forgot he was in this episode.. but again, it’s Rhys Dharby. It’s not like suddenly finding out “Aw god dammit Pauly Shore is in this”. So Eddie agrees to help as he’s been tracknig Meteora.. and we find out something troubling: Meteora is getting BIGGER. Gradually, to the point the bog from said episode Is skipped over is drained because she DRANK IT. We also get a great exchange “I’d hate to see the size of her mother” “Actually her father more than helped with that”

Awwwww.... seriously Esme Blanco is a national treasure and has some great deliveries in this one.. and some heartbreaking ones. But before we can get to that it turns out Meteora sucked the powers out of Eddies family.. who he misses..e xcept one guy> That guy can fuck right off. Seriously Eddie is also a national treasure and I wish he’d shown up in season 4. I mean he couldn’t of HURT it. For one it’s Rhys Dharby and for another that season shot itself in the face, both feet, the groin and then the face again enough that I don’t think anything could hurt it as bad as the writers already did.

But sadly we say farwell to Eddie as he goes out how men have since the begining of time.. deciding to poke a strange creature till it murdered him. Or took his soul out in this case, speaking of which...

Yeah while I couldn’t get Jess in time for this review, she did bring this up in the past: Meteora’s ablility to pull a

Comes right the fuck out of nowhere with no build up and no explination for it. She DID drain personalites and according to this episode youth.. but that was with a big ole machine. It MIGHT have been intended to be one of Globgor’s powers.. but that makes zero sense, as if he COULD do that, as we saw with Toffee last season when he had that power, also out of nowhere but at least it made a touch more sense given his power was draining magical energy anyway at the time, so adding souls to that isn’t a huge stretch, but as we saw that would’ve been game over for the comission, especially since we DO see him fighting them one on three next season. If he had this power, he wouldn’t be in crystal and I think they realized that, but just tried to act as if his daugther COULDN’T do that and assumed everyone would casually forget. And I get not accounting for me writing about this years later, even I wouldn’t of thought that, but not counting on fans both young and old to latch onto a continuity error? Have you met fandoms Disney, have you? It dosen’t bring the story down entirely and I get WHY ti’s there, so she can nonlethally kill people so we’re not down most of the cast for Season 4, but it feels like an easy win button and one she barely uses despite it being eye beam activated. It should be easy enough to pull, boom, soul suck, win, rinse and repeat. It’s okay to have uber powerful tequniques but they have to have a drawback. For instance the Kaioken from DBZ. It’s a really damn cool technique that gives the user a neat red aura and amplifies poewr.. but the more you amplify the more strain it puts on your body and the more likely you’ll die, and Super later creatively explained why it hadn’t been used since Super Sayian was introduced because said form would’ve sped it up so much it’d be too much for a body to take. Here whie Meteora dosen’t use it in EVERY fight, she uses it enough that it makes no sense this isn’t just her first move for every fight she gets into, mental breakdown or not.

That being said Meteora’s current mental state as she talks to her mother, having regressed to talking in only a few words and acting like a child, makes perfect sense. Henious already wasn’t in great mental shape to begin with, having a slow sustained breakdown since Marco overthrew her. and now on top of this she remembers her whole life has been a lie, starts to mutate into her natural state at a rapid and likely unehalthy pace, and then finds out on top of all of this Mewni is rightfully owed to her. Given she ended last episode blowing a guy up for rejecting her, it’s not a stretch that given even more power and no time to process anything, Metora would deteroate further.

Esme and Jessica really knock this scene out of the park as Eclipsa presents Metora with her old doll Bobo and gently trying ot talk to her.. but you also get the fear Eclipsa feels as she tries to awkardly manuver around the fact her daughter is far more unhinged than she was prepared for, even threanting Eclipsa simply because Eclipsa wanted to be called mother instead of mommy. But despite this fear.. Eclipsa wants to help and Walter beautifuly captured metoera as a hulk like tragic figure:a being with low sanity and too much power desperate to be loved by the one person it cares about. And it makes it even more heartbreaking as Eclipsa explains what happened: bad people trapped her , a disfunctoinal society with a racist queen and even more racist subjects has taken hold in her absence... and it’s clear both want opposite things: Meteora wants what sh’es owed, her family back on the throne and Mewni back in her graps, but has lost herself so much to rage, anger and insanity she can’t see it’s not hers to take, while Eclipsa.. just wants her daughter back. She’d be happy just settling down with her and having a LIFE after hers was taken away. Eclipsa just wants a chance to be with what family she has left. It just HURTS to know that despite RIGHTFULLY hating the comission, despite having eveyr reason to take the crown from Moon by force and make the world better by force.. she dosen’t want that. She just wants some peace. It’s selfish... but it’s hard not to be when you havealmost nothing to hold onto. Eclipsa has lost her legacy, her husband and her crown... Meteora is all she has and all she wants and sh’ed of been happy if she just accepted that. If that was enough.

But the real telling part, and the thing that ultimately makes this go as bad as it does.. is Moon’s reactions to all of this. Sh’es CONFUSED by Meteora having a toy as if that’s foreign to her a monster would, and she’s cleaerly livid , if restrianing it, at both Meteora’s deire for the crown and Eclipsa RIGHTFULLY calling out the state of how things are, and mildly at that. Despite seeing how much damage Mewni’s inherent racisim has done, how it lead to her living a lie, ruined Eclipss, Globgore and Metora’s lives, despite how DESPERTLY her daughter struggles to fight against it, despite seeing firsthand that Monsters can have famiies and lives... she can’t let it go. She can’t see monsters as people. SHe dosen’t see a flawed person who was turned into a metpohrical monster by years of brainwashing and abuse and is slowly unravling under the weight of her true self.. she just sees a threat to her kingdom. She dosen’t see her kingdom as racist, just as it should be. And she dosen’t see herself as stepping down like hse damn well should’ve the MOMENT she found out everything. Because at her heart Moon can’t accept the truth and clings to her racisim.

And that my friends.. is what ultimately leads to Tragedy. Not Meteora’s unraveling mental state, not Eclipsa’s naitvite. What happens next is ENITRELY Moon’s fault. Whle Eclipsa was failing to get through to Metora, she was trying her best and might of gotten somewhere.. but Moon was already settling to attack.. and does so, making it look like Eclipsa set her own child up.

A fight ensues, a suprisingly even one... but Eclipsa breaks it up and PROVES her way could’ve worked. In one of Esme’s best performances sshe tearfully tells her daughter she loves her.. that ALL she wants is time with her to make up for what she’s lost.. she dosen’t need a kingdom or her crown or her wand, all things she DESERVES... she just wants her daughter. She just wants to help her baby girl before she goes so far down this path of hatred and vengance she’s alreayd well trod upon there is no point to return to.

It gets through to Meteora, makes her stop... and Moon TAKES ADANTAGE OF THAT. She then restrains metoera with a magical rock barrier and starts palpatineing her to death. It’s a horrifying moment that ultimately shows who Moon really is.. that when given the chance to let Meteora go, let her CHANGE and grow as a person and help the kingdom.. she instead tries to kill her. When she’s no longer a threat, hasn’t seriously hurt her in their fight, and could use her power to RESTORE the damage she’s done, fix what she’s broken and help the kingdom grow and mend the bridges racisim has torn down. But all she can see is a monster, and something to destroy.. not someONE to save.

So Eclipsa does what Moon would do if it were star about to die and saves her daughter, desperatly trying to stop mooon.. and allowing Meteora to get a clear shot and take half of moon’s soul. While Eclipsa is able to stop her from taking the full thing, Moon is left disoreinted and half alive and leaves on insticnt to parts unknown while Meteora escapes. Eclipsa is left alone, devistated and with her daughter truly lost. And the worst is truly yet to come.

Before we get into final thoughts i’d like to talk about how this scene impacts Moon’s betryal later. To me having rewatched this scene.. it only makes it work MORE making it clear Moon simply can’t fahtom racial equality and that she can’t fahtom that eclipsa had very good reason for doing what she did ... to me it comes off as her using Eclipsa betryaing her as a very flimsy justifcation to not validate her rule and to first retire and then try a coup. That “Well she “BETRAYED” me so i’m fine. “ But in truth... she betrayed Eclipsa first. She attacked her daughter TWICE when Eclipsa was close to getting through to her Her reasons are flimsy.. because i’ts not ABOUT eclipsa, but what eclipsa represents: equality with a race Moon dosen’t see as people. It’s about Moon’s racisim coloring everything tills h’es truly blinded and should have lost everything She didn’t because the ending is a fucking disgrace, but we might get to that at some point, the point here is for all that disgrace’s faults... it did get it right here, and Moon was always portrayed as being unable to let go of her racisim no matter what it cost her or how much her daughter despteratly tried to change her. Trust me as someone whose Dad used to argue that gay marriage meant he should be able to marry his cat, and who still argues against trans people using the bathroom of their choice, I get trying desperatley to change someone who don’t wanna. “Sigh”.

Final Thoughts: This episode is truly excellent. The writing is top notch as is the voice acting for all involved and the climax isa true, well led up to tragedy. The animation is also on point, with the characters emotions on perfect display. This is an episode I now realize is one of the series best and worth ar ewatch if you haven’ts een it. Truly amazing stuff that gets me pumped for the finale.. and disapoints me in how the series could reach these highs for one finale.. but would sink to it’s lowest point for next seasons. Next Time on Prince of Wishful Thinking: Star tries depseratly to find her mom, while Marco, Tom and a motely crew of misfits try to take down Meteora and Tom learns the awful truth from the photo booth and wears a zuko ponytail which weirdly looks good on him. That boy can rock anything let me tell you.

If you enjoyed this reviews, please consider joining my patreon at patreon.com/popculturebuffet. As mentioned my 30 dollar stretch goal includes a review of the cluster fuck that is the series final arc, and the goals up to that , me making 20 and 25 dollars a month repectively, have their own nifty rewards: At 20 i’ll review Darkwing Duck once a month, the two remaning Ducktales 87 mini series I have not covered and the Danny Phantom film The Ultimate Enemy. 25 meanwhile gets you reviews of the Proud Family Movie, the theatrical recess movie and the Kim Possible almost finale movie so the drama. And 30 also gets you reviews of every episode of gravity falls season 1 at least one a month till I finish it at some point, so as you can see you get a lot of bang for your buck and these reviews will be public for everybody. Not only that but joining my patreon gets you a review a month if you pitch in 5 dollars and evne if you can’t swing THAT much just 2 bucks gets you access to my discord, a guarnateed pick in my shorts, votes for patreon exclusive reviews, and SAID patreon exclusive reviews. It’s a lot of bang for your buck is what i’m saying so please help me out so I can make a living off this and sign up today. I even JUST ADDED an exclusive and utterly insane scrooge mcduck review, The Great Wig Mystery. So throw in a buck to check that out.

And if your intrested in Tomtavia... please hit me up. I’m really proud of it and until then... i’ll see you at the next rainbow.

#star vs the forces of evil #tom lucitor #prince of wishful thinking #meteora butterfly #eclipsa butterfly #moon butterfly #rhys dharby #disney xd #disney channel #disney plus #reviews

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

Note

for mermay, indruck, 5, sfw? poison could refer to a love potion of some kind, or maybe a blue-ringed octopus (or other poisonous sea creature) mer?

Here you go!

Even with his future sight warning him this would be awkward, Indrid twitches his tail nervously as Juno, the volunteer checking him in to the venom donor clinic, frowns at her intake form.

“See, trouble is, because today’s a mer donor day, most of them give their donations from barbs. You’re gonna have to give from your fangs right?”

“Yes.” Maybe he should just cut his loses, come back on one of the Naga days, and hope no one tries to kill him.

“Volunteers gotta go through special training for milking fangs, so you may have to wait until one of them is available.”

“I do not mind waiting. I came to donate, and I have no urgent engagements. Is there somewhere I can be out of your way?”

Juno smiles, “We got some nice sunny rocks--hold that thought. Duck, you just get here?” She calls this to a human in khaki clothing. His black hair is streaked with grey--matching Indrid’s tail--and his smile is so bright Indrid wants to bask in it.

“Yep! Thacker got to the station a little early so I could clock out sooner. Seems like you got somethin’ I can help with.”

“Sure can. Duck, this is” she glances at the form, “Indrid. He’s a mer, but he needs to donate via fangs.”

“Roger that.” The man holds out his hand, “Nice to meet you, I’m Duck. It’s a nickname.”

Indrid shakes his hand, his visions having taught him this is the correct way to reciprocate the greeting.

“How long can you be outta the water?”

“Quite some time.”

“Great, in that case we’ll just go to the normal milkin station rather than me luggin things down here. Right this way.”

Indrid slithers up the beach behind him, drawing perplexed stares from humans and distrustful ones from the other mers. Duck holds open the flap on a tall, tan tent and Indrid heads inside.

“You ever given venom before?”

“No. I, I am only recently back in the area. When I heard about the program I knew I could be of help.”

“Sure can. Sea krait, right?” Duck gestures to the silver and black of his tail.

“Yes” Indrid smiles; most people just say snake.

“You reptile cousins can really fuck a human up. And who knows, your venom might be one of the kinds they can engineer multiple anti-vemons from.”

“I would like that. I like humans, and wish to help you. It is not your fault so very many things can kill you.”

Duck raises an eyebrow, “what happens if a King Naga bites you? Or even another venomous mer?”

“....I die. Ah, I, ah, see your point.” He smiles, sheepish, “apologies, although I wish to help humans, most of them prefer to stay far away from me, and so my manners are not always what they should be.”

“No harm done. Here,” he steps up onto a short stool, holding out a half circle of plastic filled with strong, astringent liquid, “put this in your mouth and bring your fangs out; we learned we have to disinfect them right before we milk.”

“PHeelphhh” Indrid winces as the liquid stings his senses.

“I know, it ain’t pleasant. Won’t be much longer.” The human stretches a thin sheet of rubber across a shallow circle, checks his watch, and then steps back onto the stool, “okay, when I say open, open your mouth wide so I can slide that one out and get this one in position. Don’t bite down until I say to.”

Indrid nods, opens his mouth when commanded. Even with the disinfectant in his noses, Duck’s scent is overwhelming from so close up; sweat, sunscreen, soap, and something woody that must be his deodorant. He bites down when Duck says, drops of venom pattering into the container. The human keeps one eye on the time, explaining that he doesn’t want Indrid to exhaust all his venom accidentally, thus rendering him vulnerable or unable to hunt.

“Aaaand done, go ahead and put those fangs away.” Duck removes the collection jar, labels it and puts it in a fridge as Indrid stretches his jaw, tensed from giving such a prolonged injection bite.

“Now, we always give donors a thank you; come pick what you like.” He swings open a second fridge. Indrid cocks his head, studying the packs of what he knows to be sushi and the different types of fruit. Flicking out his tongue, he scents something delicious, and picks up a bottle of pink liquid.

“I will have this Guava Juice.” He pops the cap and dips his tongue in for a taste, then for a second and a third. A charming noise enters the air, like a bird who long ago gave up on being dignified. Duck’s laughing.

“Sorry, wasn’t expectin that to be so cute.”

Indrid blushes; that’s not a word generally applied to him.

“Thank you for the juice. And for acomodating me.”

“Any time. Welcome to come back the next time we host a drive.” The human holds the door open for him, waves as he slithers down the sand, sipping his juice.

------------------------------------------------

“Hello, Duck.”

Duck doesn’t even turn around before he replies, “Nice to see you back, Indrid.”

This marks the fourth venom donation day the mer has come to, and he always gets paired with Duck. Duck doesn’t mind one bit; Indrid might be alarming to look at, not the elegantly finned, otherwise humanoid creature most people expect a mer to be. His scales appear on his arms and shoulders, and there’s even a patch of them on the back of his neck. His eyes are blood red, his smile wide and a little alarming even without the fangs showing. He’s also sweet, in an odd way, and takes genuine interest in Duck’s wellbeing and daily life.

Honestly, Duck wouldn’t chatting with him at a time when he isn’t jamming venom collection jars into his mouth. But asking to hang out with a patient is weird enough without the added difficulty of that patient needing to be in the water most of the time.

They go through their usual routine, Indrid helping himself to a mango juice this time before waving goodbye.

Two days later, Duck is checking on tree specimens when he senses red eyes on his back.

“You do not want to touch that trunk, there is a very large spider in that knot.”

“Indrid?”

“......no?”

“Just a prescient voice in the trees?”

“Yes. I am a very helpful tree.”

Duck turns in the direction of the river, one that feeds directly into the sea, “You know I ain’t gonna be mad if you wanna talk, right?”

“Of course, it was merely an attempt at a goof.” Indrid comes into view, peeking out from the bushes on the shoreline, “I was curious about your work and wanted to see you in action.”

“Afraid there ain’t much of that. What you’ve seen is kinda the gist of what I do.”

“I find it fascinating all the same. May I continue watching?”

Duck smiles, “Sure.”

Indrid turns out to be excellent company, in that he’s quiet for large stretches of time only to ask Duck about the exact thing he wants to talk about. It’s not until Duck is wrapping up and readying to head inland to the ranger station that Indrid asks an entirely new kind of question.

“You are a long way from home, aren’t you?”

He nods, “Spent decades in my home town, feelin like I couldn’t leave, like I had a responsibility to stay. When the chance to work out here, to try to preserve this fuckin amazin ecosystem, popped up, I decided it was time for a change of scene.”

He shivers as Indrid’s tail pets his ankle and the mer sighs, “I am glad you did.”

---------------------------------------------------------------

Indrid becomes a regular work companion after that. Sometimes he arrives with helpful information, like which paths might have tourists in need of assistance or where Duck can find the specimen he’s looking for, other times he comes just to talk or listen. These days, Duck finds himself hoping for the glimpse of silver and black in the water that announces his friend’s presence, and enjoying the appreciative looks he spies Indrid giving him when he thinks his back is turned.

So when something slithers in the bushes behind him, he simply calls out, “What’d you think of those cookies Juno brought in yesterday?”

“I do not know of what you speak, human.”

He whirls, finds a King Naga staring him down. This is probably bad, probably the reason rangers are required to carry a machete or hatchet, but he doesn’t want to be wrong and hurt someone just because they startled him.

“Can I, uh, help you with anythin, sir?”

“Yesss, you can. Be a nice human and stay where you are. I hate having to chasssse my food.”

“Uh” he steps backwards, keeping one eye on the fanged mouth, “that ain’t necessary. Know plenty of places you can get food, if you want.”

“Meager portionssss. And not half assss tempting.”

“Look man, I don’t wanna fight, so please just back off.”

The naga hisses, winding closer at an alarming speed. Then there’s a burst of movement and a flash of silver.

“You stay away from him.” Indrid rises as tall as he can, his body between Duck and the threat.

“Mind your own busssiness, ssseagoer.”

“Someone trying to make a meal out of my friend is most definitely my business.”

“Sssso be it.” The naga lunges. Indrid pushes Duck out of the way and catches his opponent, the force of the strike sending them both sliding down the incline towards the river. The naga outweighs Indrid by a considerable amount, keeps pinning him down only for the mer to wriggle free at the last moment. Duck knows the agreement is humans stay out of Naga/merfolk conflicts, but there’s no way in hell he’s going to sit by and let Indrid get killed for his sake.

Right as he locates a large, hopefully sturdy branch, there’s a tremendous splash. The naga thrashes in the water as he’s pulled downstream. Indrid is underwater, holding his opponent in such a way that, the next time he strikes, he has to put his head beneath the current. Right into Indrid’s waiting grasp. The mer keeps his head trapped as his tail whips back and forth. It’s only when the naga is mostly limp, and Duck afraid he’s just witnessed a murder, that Indrid releases him. The half-drowned creature drags himself onto the shore, slithering away without a second glance at Duck.

“And, and do not come back!” Indrid pants from the shallows, struggling to pull himself back onto the sand. Duck hurries down to him, and Indrid reaches out his hand, concerned, “Are, did, did he hurt you.”

“No, not a fuckin scratch. ‘Drid, pretty sure you just saved my fuckin life.”

“Oh good.” Indrid’s smile is bright, even as his eyes grow blurry, “it is nice to end things with a worthwhile deed.”

Duck sees the puncture wounds in the merman’s arm the instant before he passes out.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Indrid wakes up, which is in and of itself a surprise. As is the fact he’s half submerged in water. Rolling over with a groan, he discovers he’s still on the beach where he fought the naga. His bandaged arm aches but is intact, someone has thoughtfully placed a pillow under his head, and there’s a small tent just up the incline. Sound asleep in a sitting position outside the tent is Duck.

He wriggles and crawls his way to the human, arms giving out as he reaches him, which means his head lands in Duck’s lap.

“Huwhazzat? Oh fuck, ‘Drid, you’re up.” Instead of pushing him away, Duck cradles his head and pets his hair, “thank fuck, I was so fuckin worried. Dani said it might take a few days for you to recover but I couldn’t stop worryin.”

“Duck? How long have you been here looking after me?”

“Since you got bit. So three days ago. Sarah got some anit-vemon down for you, and Dani swam up to bring you extra medicine just in case. Oh, and Barclay brought you food, I been tryin to get it into you when you were a little bit awake.”

Indrid manages to sit up, curling his tail around them, “You did not need to do all this for me. I knew the risks when I came to your aid. You did not need to save me in return.”

“Fuck need, I wanted to. You, you mean so fuckin much to me.” Duck strokes his cheek, runs his fingers up his tail, “I missed you so much the last three days, realized how so often the part of my afternoon was you comin to talk to me.”

The futures take an odd turn and Indrid shakes his head to clear them, certain he’s seeing wrong.

“And, uh, and I wanted to ask, uh, when you’re feelin better do you, uh, wanna have dinner with me. Like, uh, on a date?”

“Yes, so very much” Indrid drapes his arms around him, resting their foreheads together.

“Mind if I get a little kiss to tide me over?”

Indrid dips his head down, planting a chaste kiss on his lips before rubbing their cheeks together with a purr, “Apologies, but my kisses must be close mouthed. I’d hate to nick you with a fang.”

“Fine by me.” Duck kisses his shoulders, rubs his tail, “any kind of kiss from you is a goddamn blessin. Besides” he murmurs in Indrid’s ear, “sure we can figure out lots of other things to do together.”

“Absolutely” Indrid purrs, “but for now, would you care to join me for a swim?”

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #mermay #mermay fills

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