#not that he'd die but he'd be in even worse position

[luifaro]

you FOOLS thought you could underestimate me!! GRRRAHHHH!!!!

*this thing spawns*

He's my pfp don't be surprised he was the first one I designed! This guy was kind of a pain in the ass tbh,,, it took me quite a while to give him the perfect body and eyes...

Since this IS a magical girl au of Undertale, you're probably wondering what changes about this kid. First of all, he takes WAY MORE advantage of just how adorable he is! While he still really wants Frisk's soul, his manipulation is a little more sneaky than OG Flowey. He first teaches Frisk some of the basics (while acting innocent and sweet ofc) before bringing up a MAJOR PROBLEM. You see, Frisk's soul is powerful, so powerful in fact that any random monster would love to take their SOUL! But he can help them if they just let him "borrow" it. Unfortunately for Frisk, no matter what they say, he WILL take it by force if he must.

But a major difference between Undertale's Frisk and this au's Frisk is that MG!Frisk is more blatantly their own person since I want to play around more with magical girl tropes than video game ones since this 1. Won't be a game so it wouldn't make sense to play with RPG tropes and 2. I think it could be a fun exercise to try to implement and mess with tropes used in Magical Girl animes instead! I'll try to keep things similar since I'm not building a whole new world from the ground up, but I'll play differently than Tobert Foxington.

Why is this relevant? Weelll.... Flowey kinda sorta GETS HIS ASS BEAT!!!!

FRISK SHOOTS HIM DOWN UNTIL HE'S REAL BRUISED!! And then Toriel comes in, pretty much forcing him to leave since while Frisk could possibly be overpowered he is NOT defeating Toriel in this state.

So off he goes... to scheme again.

Minor fun fact the reason he's PINK instead of golden is because he had magic injected into him that made his body warp and change. This is also why he's a humanoid instead of a proper flower.

[leashybebes]

bucktommy sickfic(let)

Tommy squints at his phone, rereading the message carefully, checking closely for tone and spelling. The last thing he wants is to worry Evan. Satisfied, he hits send, and flops down into his bed, immediately regretting the even slightly vigorous motion when it sets off a round of coughing that makes his head throb.

****

It's been a full-on shift. Not bad, but busy, so Buck only sees Tommy's text when he's in the parking lot, ready to leave and head over for date night. It takes him a minute to parse it, because Tommy is normally a very clear texter with impeccable grammar (old man, Buck thinks fondly).

Hi baaby i sosorry can't tonight I ill just a cOld not to baD. Little demon baby snézed in my FACE. Wont die!! Make you up s00n. Like you!

Buck can't help laughing, and then immediately feels bad about it. His first text is to Eddie to ask for Abuela's home cold remedy - a vile tasting but highly effective concoction that still haunts Buck. Then to Hen to double check he's not missing anything obvious from his pharmacy shopping list.

When he pulls into the parking lot outside CVS he dialls Mrs Lee.

"Hey Mrs Lee, it's Evan Buckley - no, no, everything's fine! I was wondering if you could help me out. You know that spicy soup you make, god, please forgive my pronunciation, is it dakgaejang? Could I get the recipe? Yeah, uh-huh, my boyfriend's not well and I can't think of a better cure. Oh, you're an angel, yep, let me grab a pen."

Ten minutes later, he has a recipe, and instructions on the best places to pick up the ingredients. It'll add a bit of time to his journey, but it'll be worth it if he can come up with anything close to the soup she makes. Tommy likes spice anyway, and Buck's always relied on spicy instant noodles to blow the lid off a cold.

When he makes it to Tommy's via Mrs Lee's favorite store on the outskirts of Koreatown, the sound of snoring from the master bedroom is practically shaking the walls, reminding Buck of a plane roaring by only feet above his head. Regardless he bypasses the door, opting to take the pillows and blankets from the guest room instead, setting them up on the couch before he heads into the kitchen to get started on the broth.

****

When Tommy wakes up an indeterminate amount of time later, he feels, if anything, slightly worse. His head is pounding, his ears are ringing, every inch of him aches, and his mouth and throat are the kind of dry and prickly he only usually associates with wildfire season. He's also...maybe experiencing multi-sensory hallucinations because he'd swear he can hear - very faintly through the horrible underwater feeling in his ears - music, and even more faintly smell something like food.

If it really is the world's most considerate burglar, Tommy knows he's in no fit state to fight them off, but he should at least try, right? He fights his way out of the cocoon that his sheets have become, and gets to his feet, only wobbling a little. Before he's even reached his bedroom door, he hears a familiar cacophony of footsteps on the stairs, and when he opens the door it's to see Evan on the other side.

"You're...here?"

"I sure am."

"Did you not get my message?"

"Oh, I did," Evan says, with an inexplicable smirk. "How are you feeling, babe?"

Tommy groans. "I'll never take clear sinuses for granted again."

"Aw, sweetheart. C'mere."

Tommy shakes his head, turning his face away as Evan approaches. "Plague."

Evan's insistent, pulling Tommy into a careful hug that honestly feels amazing. "What's a little plague between boyfriends?"

Tommy lets his head rest on Evan's broad shoulder for the few seconds of relief he gets before his blocked nose makes the position untenable.

"Can't breathe," he gasps out, and Evan rubs his back. It would be soothing, except, "skin hurts," he says, and Evan backs off.

"Okay, hon. C'mere, do you want to come downstairs? I made you a plague nest."

Tommy blinks stupidly, lets himself be steered down the stairs, Evan's hands hovering to steady him the whole way. He's guided towards the couch, which is replete with pillows and blankets. The coffee table has been dragged closer and is home to a box of those tissues infused with balm that are meant to prevent that horrible rubbed-raw feeling, cough sweets in what looks like every available flavour, one medicated and one menthol nose spray, three bars of his favourite chocolate, a carton of orange juice, and a bottle of water with a straw.

"Evan," he manages, and his voice wobbles alarmingly.

Evan's fingers stroke through his disgusting, sweaty hair without even a flinch. What a perfect man. "Don't cry, honey, it'll make your head worse."

Tommy nods and lets himself lean into Evan's touch.

****

Buck gets Tommy settled on the couch, covers him with blankets and squats down next to him.

"Have you eaten anything today?"

Tommy shakes his head, looking revolted by the very idea.

"I know. But it'll make you feel better. It needs another twenty minutes or so, so try to take a nap, okay? I'll be right back. You want the TV on?"

"Nuh," Tommy manages, his eyes already closing.

Buck pushes himself back to his feet and heads into the kitchen. The soup smells pretty damn good, and has that vibrant orange-red colour that promises a punch of heat. Abuela's cold remedy is adding a weird dimension to the smells, so he keeps the door closed in case it bothers Tommy. He also turns the radio off, and finishes up in silence, responding to a few check in texts from the 118 and sending Mrs Lee a photograph of his efforts for her approval.

He gets a cup of the cold remedy, a small bowl of soup, a spoon and a fork, and a range of medications onto a tray and makes his way back out. Tommy is snoring again and Buck nudges stuff around on the coffee table to make room for the tray before waking him with a gentle touch to his cheek.

"Hey, beautiful. Can you sit up for me? I want you to take some pills and eat some soup."

Tommy looks pitiful, his hair sticking up in all directions, his pretty eyes red-rimmed and puffy, his skin clammy.

"'kay," he mutters, and lets Buck brace him as they get him upright in the corner of the couch. Buck rearranges the cushions and pillows around him, tucks a blanket in around his shoulders.

"Okay. First up," he says, handing Tommy the cup of Abuela's home remedy. "This is via Eddie's abuela. There's a lot of ginger and also a little tequila and it's hot, so it'll taste, uh - interesting. But I promise it'll help."

Tommy knocks it back without even a wince and Buck squeezes his shoulder.

"Good job."

He hands Tommy the pills - decongestant, painkiller, anti-inflammatory - and Tommy takes them dutifully.

"Whatsit?" he asks, nodding towards the bowl of soup.

"Dakgaejang. Spicy chicken noodle soup. I got the recipe from Mrs Lee."

"Evan."

"Yeah?"

"You're too good to me." He sounds desolate and Buck feels, not for the first time, like he wants to go back in time and fight Tommy's dad, his CO, every terrible boyfriend he's ever had.

"No such thing, honey. Let me know if you want any help with the soup."

Buck sits next to Tommy on the couch and presses a kiss to his sweaty temple, not letting Tommy duck it.

"Evan. Stop it. I'm so gross."

"Nah," Buck promises. "You're the handsomest plague victim I've ever seen."

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

Good things are hard to come by in the desert, but surprisingly, not drugs. Alliances are forged over questionable motivations. A real romance takes root. 

[Part one]  [Ao3]  [10] [12]

11 * Sucker Punch [9k]

"My, my, my what a position:

The love of my life smokin' crack in the kitchen,

Lovely long nails and a nasty half grin:

"It's a livin'," she shrugs."

Some Kind Of Disaster Relief - The Taxpayers

        "Hey." You turn on your side away from the noise. "Hey." Louder. "Goddamn it," your cot was jostled under your form, "wake up shithead." 

        You peel open an eye to find Tracksuit leaned over the bed. The sun pierced through the porthole. Everyone else had gone searching, leaving him on babysitting duty. His life had been threatened approximately five times that very morning and hearing you hiss, "What?" Made you particularly unlikable in the moment.

        He stopped jostling the bed. Considered leaving you to get fucked but remembered- this was like being a producer. Nudge things the right way and the desired outcome should occur. His was mild entertainment and not the group eating itself alive so he said, "They sent me after you two last night." 

        Now you were sitting upright, bug eyed. "What-"

        "I heard you two mashing pissers-" 

        "Excuse me?" You shot out of bed, standing unsteadily.

        "-And I turned around and told 'em you were yelling at Omni Boy or whatever. I covered for you asses for like, twenty minutes. Do you know how many times I had to stop those guys from going after you? Too many. Almost beat the shit outta me and there I go thinking' you'll be smart and not super obvious. You come back, go right to sleep like you just got hit with the best dick of your life- like are you kidding?" His hands tangle in his hair. "Oooh, you're so lucky we're not full blooded dude. They would'a been able to smell that."

        "We didn't-"

        "I know fuckin' when I hear it, toots, don't even." His hand came to your face to shut you up, pressing to your lips, other arm securing you in place, "What I'm sayin' is, if they say shit to you about it at the fire tonight, you were laying into him but not laying him, ya hear? Cuz they ain't stupid, they know somethin' went down between you two and if I get caught lying- I'm fucked cuz I don't want those stupid assholes fighting and collapsing the caves- you know our only fucking source of water so sue me-" He stops himself from going on a tangent while you're effectively muted. 

        Your eyes narrow. Hands come to his wrist to peel his hand off your mouth to tell him to die. He holds firm, but not enough to hurt. 

        "Relax! I'm not a snitch and I don't fuckin' care. I just wanted to warn you that the next time you go romping around- be fuckin' careful, dude. If any of those guys went instead of me? They would'a intervened- we wouldn't be runnin' outta jerky, ya kno' what I mean. Nod if you get it." You nod. "Okay, alright, cool, I'm gonna take my hand away now and you're not gonna freak your shit on me."

        His palm, calloused and slightly sweaty unlatches from your cheeks. The arm that held your waist in place fell away. You step back. Your head swivels left, right. Double-checking you were alone. "You heard us?" 

        Under the mask his brows peak. "I'm shocked nobody else did, dude. You were like," his voice pitches, hands go to his knocking knees and chest puffing perversely, "Uhhhhnggg, fuck me Markus."

        "Shut up." He went ridged, quiet. Looks like your powers had returned for the day. You weren't foolish enough to make him hurt himself. He'd get back up and do you worse. Being found alone with his neck snapped on the cave floor also wasn't a good plan.

        He broke free about ten second later, shaking himself off like your control was slime on his skin. "Eugh, that feels like ass."

        "Don't make me do it again." You stand, stretch, feel your back crack. Find your dried underclothes neatly folded on Omni's side of the cot.        

        Tracksuit follows your gaze. "He's also not hiding it, awesome. I'd say it was nice knowing you assholes but- it hasn't really been."

        You pick up the clothes. "This doesn't mean anything."

        "That he folds your clothes like some house husband? I couldn't imagine doing that even for some bitch who gave my the messiest sloppy of my life. That's like, love, dude." 

        Your stomach curdles. "It's not." You check the multiple openings in the cave walls, where anyone could be returning at any time. "Keep your voice down."

        "I'm not being anywhere loud as you." He snickers. "Marrrrkusss, unngggnhh!"

        "Shut up, turn around."

        He did. You quickly took off the top of the armor and slapped on the tank top. You were pulling off the solider pants, back to Tracksuit when the control snapped. "You gotta- whoa! Whoa! No! I don't care how nice your ass is, I'm not getting killed over mediocre pussy!"

        You leap into the shorts. "You were supposed to stay turned around." You grab the pants and boots off the ground, slipping them back on. "And please, don't flatter yourself."

        Though your ass was hidden under tighty-whiteys, he still watched it. "I mean, you flattered him, who is also me, plenty last night."

        "Want to find out how hard you can hit yourself?" You toss the empty threat.

        He caught it. "Kind of, but I don't wanna end up lookin' like Seven. Lensless, you called 'im?" He sat pressed against the wall. "Crazy son of a bitch." Out of his pocket came that pack of alien cigarettes. Nine down to six he smoked in secret so nobody would ask for a hit. He caught your eye, "You don't plan on going out today, do you? Anywhere you could go they've already mapped beyond it like, a hundred times." He pulled the curtain from his face and tucked it to his left ear. Revealing the low of his face- Mark's. "Dunno how nobody's found shit yet."

        ***

        Sand. Lots and lots and lots of sand was shoved into every unused crevice. Mushy mold and mildew that he helped the bugs propagate, just to use as wall padding. Their super hearing was nowhere near full-blooded Viltrumite level, but he couldn't risk the others finding his personal paradise to share with you.

        It'd be ready soon, if all went to plan. Just you, him, bugs, and the dark.

        ***

        You knew you were near useless in this survival situation. They were aliens, nearly God-like. You were a doll to throw around. You yearned for normal people, to play with them the way the Marks played with you. To be in some sort of control.

        You consider leaving, knowing Tracksuit would be obligated to follow. But you also consider the more you moved, the more they'd feed you of Emperor at the campfire tonight. You could barely stomach what you'd already eaten. Puking was a constant, round the corner threat.

        The blue-wrapped cigarette was placed between his lips. A blur passed over his face and it was lit, glowing green at the end. He takes a drag, relaxing fully against the stone. A pillar of smoke forced out between his teeth, light gray, and smelling of coriander. He catches you staring and holds up the side of his hand, "Don't need a lighter when ya got friction." 

        You point at the thing. "Give me a hit."

        He leaned forward, held the cigarette out to you, glowing end first. You take it in two fingers and place it into your mouth. The pale filter still damp with his spit. (You hadn't smoked in a long time / You'd never smoked) and were nervous to see how this would go. If alien tobacco would kill you or not. You don't think, feel the hold loosening, so you suck it down.

        Lemongrass and rotten laundry had a baby that shit acid down your throat- that's what it felt like. You jerked, folding forward, hacking up wispy clouds of smoke and spittle. The control breaks and the cigarette is snatched away. Your hands are propped on your knees. You could only see his boots as tears stung the corners of your eyes.

        "I'd whoop your ass for that," the cigarette is placed back where it belonged between his lips, "but you're kinda doin' that for me."

        You'd curse him if you could.

        "Dude, this shit kills like, most alien species. Didn't you look at the warning on the box?" He points at a struck-through red circle with alien looking lungs in the middle. "No baby-shit lungs can touch this shit."

        "Obviously," you hack out the syllables one by one, trying hard not to puke on your shoes, "I didn't."

        "No dip." It pissed you off how easily he breathed the acrid air in. 

        You straighten up, pounding your chest, "What's in that?"

        "Uhhhh," he flipped the box in his hand, squinting behind the lenses, "a hundred percent pure Loethicainian root. Huh, thought it was laced with something else."

        "You didn't even know what was in it before you started smoking it?" Your voice cracks. Throat feeling like an uncleaned chimney after one puff.

        "You didn't either." The box disappeared into his pocket. His palm outstretched in front of you, "Alright, now give it."

        "What?"

        "You took a hit'a my shit, I'ma take a hit'a yours." His fingers flexed, "Hand it over."

        You flinched back, hands going defensively to your pockets. "No way."

        "I could just take it, but I'm being nice and asking."

        That was true. You preferred to have some dignity, so you pulled out a bottle. "Just don't over-"

        The lid was crushed off the top, thrown aside. He knocked his head back, thumb punching a hole in the bottle bottom. Cigarette held off to the side in his spare hand. The bottle was shotgunned before you could blink.

        "-dose."

        He groaned, threw the bottle to the floor. "Tastes like shit."

        "So does that." You watch him chase the bitter cough syrup taste with a pull off the cigarette. Man had taste buds of steel.

        He shrugged, "Ya get used to it. When's it supposed to kick?" He sat himself on the closest cot. Gray's. He'd definitely notice things shifted about but Tracksuit couldn't care less.

        "Uhm, I thought you've done codeine before?" 

        "Nah, buddy Rex did, though. Guy did everything he got his hands on." He sighed, hands going behind his head, now sprawled on Gray's cot. "Miss 'im."

        You stand by the cot edge, watching him smoke. Feeling no difference beside the burning in your throat. Maybe one hit wasn't bad. "That Guardians of The Globe dickhead?"

        Tracksuit smiled around the cigarette. "He made it to The Guardians in your world? Good for him."

        You sit, pulling the last bottle of codeine out of your pants. "Should be a half hour before that kicks in. You sure you'll be fine? That's way more than most people can take. I don't feel like eating you." Though there was enough of Emperor left to last you all a week at this rate. Hell, all of him hadn't been smoked yet. Apparently without green plants to burn there was less smoke, the process took days longer. What hadn't been cooked yet started to rot. Gray set aside the first cooked, stalest, safest jerky for you to eat. You hadn't today, though you should.

        "I'm an alien." He laughs, "I'm smoking the cheapest, but deadliest smokes in the galaxy. I'll be cool." 

        You tell yourself you don't care, that you're just killing time but you still ask. "So Rex Splode." You'd never met the guy but there was news here and there. People he saved said he was a douche, reckless, almost got them killed while saving them. 

        "We slummed it together awhile." He blew smoke past your shoulder to the ceiling. "Roommates while my parents were figuring out their relationship shit. Cuz like, Dad sprung all that crazy alien-invasion shit on mom and she was like 'what the fuck?' And who would want to live with those assholes anyway? Like rabbits those two, then they'd get on my ass for bein' loud. So, Rex 'n I got ourselves this piece 'a shit place in Queens. Roaches all over the place, you should'a seen it." He talked plenty but not normally this much, not so openly. Whatever hundred percent pure Loethicainian root was chilled him the hell out.

        "I lived in New York," you crack the bottle, "I know." You knock your head back. Feel the sour syrup slide cross your tongue. Your body goes slack, like all your problems have been solved when it hits your throat. You flop onto the cot beside him. 

        "Crazy how I never met you." He says, and you can feel his eyes on you. "And everyone else but that one dude is all over you. Makes me wonder."

         You tilt the bottle forward, cut yourself off before you really wanted to. High soon to go feather-light in your dome. "If you're gonna get all misty-eyed on me I'm fucking off." 

        "'M not." He says, "Just wonder how it didn't happen." He keeps out the part he'd been wondering about lately. That maybe, if he'd had you, things wouldn't have gotten so messy. Rex wouldn't be dead. That Eve bitch wouldn't be alive with the resistance. His Dad would've never called the Viltrum Empire to Earth. Things would've been normal and he could've lived his life doing fuck-all-bullshit till he died in a million years. Dad made sure things didn't dice out that way. 

        He could hardly see how you'd change a thing. Why you and Mark Grayson seemed to be so inter-dimensionally intertwined. Was it just cuz he was biologically wired to think your ass was nice?

        "Tell me about your Rex." He said instead. 

        You did, as much as you remembered from the papers. You mostly avoided supes, bad for business if you were caught. Worse for you if they wound up being psychic and didn't listen. Tracksuit listened aptly, smoking the cigarette down to the filter. 

        The high began to wax. Your brain felt fat in your head, skull gone, cheeks like jelly, everything easy. You'd missed being high. Angsted that the only reason you were was because of Mark. Always because of Mark. 

        You're looking down at Tracksuit, elbow on knee when you say, "I really hate him, you know."

        "The other me?"

        "Yeah." You can't get over how good he looks with a septum, even though you can't see his whole face. You wonder if there are any more piercings, any scars to further differentiate him. "Yeah, that dickhead." The words spill out, stupid, slow. "Ruined my life, that..." What's the word? "Dickhead." Yeah, exactly.

        Tracksuit flicked ashes onto the ground and dusted them away. Gray would notice later anyway. He couldn't care, these details were juicy. "What'd he do?"

        "He-" You look up to the porthole. Watch sand specs idly floating in the sun. Then you are there in the sunbeam. Naked, glowing, floating.

        You fall hard next to Tracksuit. He jumps up, watching you twitch. "Shit!" He'd forgotten you'd taken a hit of his cigarette. That you probably had minutes left to live at best. "Shit! Hey!" He shakes your shoulders but your eyes, rolled back to your skull, don't fix. You are stiff, then twitching, stiff, then twitching. 

        Then you're upright like a bolt cracking your skull against his, "What?" 

        He is unaffected, head like a cinder block. "I thought you were like, seizing." 

       "Me too." You rub your pulsing forehead, the only part of your head you could feel. 

        His breathing, that he hadn't even realized he'd been holding, hitched, began to even. "Scarred the piss outta me." 

        "Me too." 

        "Sure you're not still seizing or whatever?"

        Your muscles contract tight, tighter, then let go. "Think I'm just..." Your fingers find your eyes, push into the lids. Thinking slow. "I'm just stressed and that Loethicainian shit is making me tic." Better than being dead.

        "I mean yeah, you almost starved to death and now you've got like," he counts on his fingers, "seven super crazy boyfriends. No, six, and husband guy."

        "I'm not dating a guy who killed a different version of me in literally any timeline." You looked around for any broken hearted faces but find none. 

        "I don't think all of 'em did." He says.

        "A concerning amount of them have." 

        His arms go out to his sides, defensive, "We've all killed people. It's not that big a deal. You're still alive."

        "Not my Mark." You leave out the 'not on purpose' part. The Chicago disaster part. "He didn't kill people." You don't know why you feel the need to go to bat for him.

        "Good for him I guess, but he's a giant pussy."

        Your lips thin, defense came up your throat just to be swallowed because Tracksuit was right. "His girlfriend got hurt when you guys came," you start, unable to look at him and his stupid Mark face, "he wouldn't leave her. She was unconscious and probably would've told him to go help, but he wouldn't. Refused to fight you guys. I know he could've taken more of you out but he just-" You shrug, hands slapping against you thighs, "He was just a giant pussy."

        You lick at the codeine bottle edge just for the taste. You recap it before you lapse into shotgunning the whole thing and dying on the cave floor. 

        "Wow. That's insane." Tracksuit didn't care much for humanity or anyone in his life these days, but he couldn't imagine not fighting. Deciding one person was worth the effort to ignore everything else. 

        "Right?" You felt vindicated. You needed him to know, "I've killed more people on purpose than he has. He won't even kill people that he knows will bust outta prison. Just, lets 'em go and-" You laughed, shaking your head, like it was no big deal, like your sad, angry little life didn't revolve around him. Who cares about Mark when you're getting high with a different Mark? Mark would've never touched a cigarette let alone shotgun codeine just to try it.

        "He broke up with me." Words come out in a hot puke spray. Tracksuit's head snaps to you. Surprised you'd share anything about yourself with him of all people- seemed like you only shared to hurt the others' feelings. "It ruined my life."

        He's quiet a moment before saying, "Dick that good?"

        "No. I just-" Your fingers press to your eyes, head light, spinning. You knew you shouldn't tell anybody but keeping it in felt so bad. And you just wanted to feel good again, enjoy the high the same way you enjoyed Omni's fingers. Purge. "I did something for us, and it went so bad, and I just- God. He didn't want me or the baggage I came with." You felt like you were about to cry so you unscrewed the codeine for one more sip. Wouldn't kick in for awhile but you couldn't stand feeling like this. 

        "I'm not a snitch if you wanna spill." He offered. You accepted. Reluctantly at first, voice low so if anyone came back they wouldn't overhear. It was bad enough telling Mark Grayson how Mark Grayson ruined your life. It'd be worse if the Mark Grayson who murdered you and was still very much in love with you, overheard. They'd never let you live it down and you'd really end up killing them all, then you'd starve to death out here. 

        By the end, you were so high you didn't care that a few tears slipped here and there. You couldn't care much for anything at all, but at least Tracksuit was good company. 

        "That's majorly fucked up." He'd said when you finished. Among much more colorful commentary during your story. Calling you stupid for being head over heels for the first guy you fucked. For not finishing school. For falling for him of all people. "But, hey, we ever get back to that shithole? I'll help you whoop his pussy ass." It was the good nurtured chiding old friends did, that kind strangers do when they get high together. You knew it didn't mean anything, and you would never get to go home, but you smiled.

        "I'll introduce you to Rex." You say because you don't know Rex is dead. Tracksuit doesn't either. The thought is nice, as it is impossible.

        "How's that high treating you?" You ask.

        "Got nothin'." Tracksuit fidgets with his pocket, thinks of pulling out another cigarette but decides against it. "Pretty sure most Earth shit won't do anythin' to me so what's the harm in tryin'? You?"

        "I think." You don't think, lost a moment as your body tensed and untensed, "Whatever you gave me isn't agreeing with me but it's okay." What wasn't okay was how bored you were. Always sitting around or walking or eating dead guy meat. Lame. 

        You want to play, be entertained. You pull out your phone and try to find some meaningless game. Tracksuit leaned over your shoulder, watching you click through apps, a smile on his face.

        "You got any tunes downloaded on that thing?"

        You did, and he helped you pull them up. He had no clue what any of the words were. Who was singing. But that was okay. You lay together on Gray's cot, letting the music bounce off the ceiling and trash down onto your bodies. You were almost asleep when an angel came down, a shadow in the sunbeam.

        "I thought I heard something." You lifted your heavy head. 

        Baldie stood over the cot. Hairless brow raised at the scene. Fabric scraps in hand.

        "It's not what it looks like." Tracksuit raised his hands in mock defense. On high alert but not looking like it. "We're just hanging out, man."

        "Uh, I can tell?" He would've been suspect if any other variant had been laying with you. Not Tracksuit. He was stupid and inconsequential, but friendly enough. 

        You sat up to talk but stop. The light frames his muscle thick form like a halo's hug. Mark's expression on his face but not Mark's face, not with all the scars. He is him but so other and so beautiful like this and the music is so nice and you are absolutely fucking blasted.

        Your body tenses again. "Are you okay?" Baldie asks.

        You stand up shakily, body swaying slightly.

         "Hey, are you alright?" His hands go to the sides of your arms to steady you but you aren't seizing, you're dancing. Terribly. You're not happy, just high, and having recently cum. You're relaxed. Listening to music you intend to enjoy because fuck the misery. 

        "No." You say, "But dancing is better than just laying there while the universe dies." 

        "Hey!" Tracksuit said from the comfort of his back. 

        Baldie pauses. "You're... dancing?" He was unsure. Partly thought the movement a mild seizure. 

        "Guess I am."

        He's taken back. Four years ago, days before the fight with Dad. He had no idea what was coming. He could feel the anxiety coming off Mom in waves, it made him edgy. But he got to your apartment, floated out the window and found you dancing with a hungry dog you'd found in the street six months ago. Skin and bones now muscle and smooth fur. You held its front paws, going back and forth in little steps while the dog's tail wagged. The other rescues crowded around your ankles. 

        He landed next to you with a smile. Problems off in the wind. You traded paws for his hands and you dance together slow in the studio apartment kitchenette to the same music you played now. 

        He smiles, nostalgic for a past you didn't know, and takes your limp hand. Opens it gently with the press of a thumb. You let it happen, staring stupidly as his marred hand slipped into yours. He pulls you in, hand set at the small of your back. Then leads you to insanely unfitting music in a waltz he could barely remember the bones of. It was more like spinning in circles while holding your bodies together but you couldn't tell. You were high and in a sun beam and he was smiling at you and the music was so nice. 

        Tracksuit watches. Thinking good for you, get some more dick. And then thinking, Jesus I'm gonna have to run interference for this horny bitch till we all die out here.

        You're across the room now. Stepping on Baldie's feet because you're so high you can't coordinate your movements well. He thinks you're still half asleep and teases you. You laugh at something Baldie says, it's quick and you immediately try to hide the joy, but Baldie hears it and glows. Because for once, the laugh wasn't a nasty sound, but genuine.

        "Hey." Maskless is knelt beside Tracksuit's head, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. "Walk with me a sec."

        "Uh? Sure." He sat up.

        Maskless led him out of the cave, into the desert sun and miles away while you danced on. He landed in a skid, turning hot on Tracksuit when he came down.

        "You need to back off." He says.

        Tracksuit paused his landing trot, "What?"

        "Those guys ruined their lives for the chance to see her again. Don't get any stupid ideas that'll cost you." His finger found home in Tracksuit's chest. Honestly, Maskless didn't give two shits who you liked and didn't. He cared about keeping the peace. He cared about how he'd feel if he had William here and some douche who didn't know him was drooling to get in his pants. It was one thing for the other guys to want their ex, a whole insult for him not to even know you in his world. He wouldn't take sides, wouldn't tattle, but he'd watch and make sure Tracksuit's tracksuit stayed on for the good of the camp.

        "Whoa! You've got the wrong idea." He says it, but it's not entirely true. Tracksuit had been starting to appreciate your appearance a tad more these last few days. You were a whole helluva lot nicer when you were high and not starving to death. You were also probably a decent fuck and he really needed to cum, but that wasn't here nor there. "We're on the same side here. I'm not gonna do nothin' stupid just cuz she's hot, man."

        That was as earnest as Tracksuit got, but to Maskless it sounded like fuck boy bullshit. "You're going to get yourself and her killed if you keep acting all buddy-buddy. You can't lay on the same cot as her and ogle, they're not stupid."

        "Dude, were you watching us? That's super fuckin' creepy!" 

        Maskless's jaw hardened. "I wouldn't be surprised if another one of us was watching too. You weren't subtle. I didn't watch for very long, but it was long enough to see you staring at her ass."

        Tracksuit wasn't an unreasonable man, but a shortsighted one. A man who thought fists would tell the truth. "Then that's long enough to see I didn't tap it!" A fist was aimed straight for Maskless's chin. Sent him into the air. He spun, stopped the spiral a hundred feet up, face hard. Absolutely sure Tracksuit had a thing for you and absolutely sure he needed to kick common sense right up his ass. 

        ***

        The music died with your phone. After days of being used for flashlight navigation, it was bound to die. But did it really have to die at the best part of the song? You could mope but you didn't. Sleepily happy as Baldie guided you round and round. 

        Phantom watched from the dark. He'd picked up heat signatures from Maskless's body on the outskirts of the cave minutes ago. Knew he'd likely interfere somehow, Maskless wasn't stupid. He knew any blooming romances were a danger. Maskless should've broken you and Baldie up but instead he took Tracksuit outside. Allowed this to continue.        

        Phantom tells himself it's fine. You are happy. With someone else who is him, but not him. 

        He tries telling himself Baldie is a temporary creature of comfort. Like Omni clearly had been to you last night. None of this meant a thing.

        ***

        "Hey." Behind him. Lensless turned. Lost again a few minutes into exploring these stupid caves. Maskless had drawn him a mini map but Lensless was never one for directionality. 

        Scars was there, cloaked in the dark. Wearing that same old smile. 

        "Hi?" Lensless was perfectly friendly back, but his body was tense. Come on, a lone meeting in the dark was a prime murder locale. He'd done it himself enough times to know. 

        "I think we can help each other get what we want." Scars didn't have to say it was about (Y/n). He was just as obsessed with you, the new you, as Lensless was. That was why he'd gotten so lost in the first place, he just couldn't stop thinking about you using your powers on him. 

        Lensless was the perfect partner for the job. Slower than Scars in every aspect. Feared and discomforting in your eyes. And he wanted you to use your powers just as much as Scars did.

        ***

        You were floating on a euphoric cloud because you were dancing with Mark Grayson (and peaking on a codeine high). He smiles down at you, holding you. Dancing with you like he did when he came to your place after homecoming. You had been on the stoop crying with the night sky overhead, trying to keep the tears off your thrifted outfit. He'd missed the whole thing and you were majorly pissed, but he danced with you right there on the apartment stoop in his wrinkled suit. Apologies whispered into your ear, compliments as his hands ran over the clothes you'd picked for him.

        His excuse was terrible, pissed you off more, but you ended up forgiving him. You always ended up forgiving him. He was your first serious boyfriend, how could you not? You took him inside. Things escalated. You didn't feel different the next morning, though you told yourself they did. That being each other's firsts meant you'd be together forever.

        And now, five years down the line, you were in the same man's arms, but not really. Having just spilled your guts to also the same guy because the other guys who were also the same guy couldn't be trusted with that information. You were too high to think about it. That's what you liked about being high. Not forgetting things, but not quite being smart enough to remember.

        You don't know what does it. The sun shining through his black lenses, letting you see a sliver of eye through the material. Soft, drooped with scarring but looking at you so sweetly. Or was it the gentle touch you hadn't felt in so long? Calming and grounding, but not wanting, content with the moment. His lips, twisted as they were with old wounds, smiling for you, of all the rotten people in the world- for you.

        You kiss him without thought. Standing on your toes to get the angle right. His lips are opened, a question on the tongue that is soon forgotten. When he kisses back it's tentative, hesitant. Close mouthed and chaste. He wouldn't let himself taste too much of you. He knows he'll go mad if he doses on too much of your sweet belladonna. But you smile, kiss him again, and he can't resist pulling you closer.          

        Four years since he'd kissed you. The last one a quick goodbye peck, excited for a date the next day. He never got to see you again. Not the you he knew. You were warped and scarred compared to her, a mirror held up to himself. You were and weren't her. You understood him. 

        He let himself be poisoned with a kiss. Lips parting to let in your tongue.

        ***

        Hearing you tell Tracksuit about your Mark stung. Phantom wished you could've confined in him, but he understood. He wasn't a big talker. You needed someone to bounce off of. He could do that. He just preferred it to be just you and him when he did so. But no opportunities shone through, someone was always around. Listening and watching.

        But that was a bee sting compared to the gutting that was you kissing that marred thing with his name. It was a good thing, he told himself as he watched, you were still attracted to Mark Grayson as a concept. That's all this was, a proof of concept. But you just kept going and going and going. Kissing and kissing after obviously fucking Omni last night. Stabbing him in the heart as many times as you pleased. Did you even know how this made him feel?

        Fine. It was fine, really. He had to think as he took deep breaths through his nose. 

        It was fine because Baldie couldn't be in the caves longer than a few hours without growing agitated. He kept saying he heard things but Phantom's enhanced suit didn't catch them. Baldie was cracking up. Baldie was clearly your favorite and had to go. Which was fine, because Phantom knew just where to put him.

        ***

        He pulled away, flushed. "I'm sorry." He said, though he doesn't let you go. "Is this okay?"

        You'd had a taste for blood. Were in for more, voice low and wanting "More than okay."        

        He leans back in and stops himself. He knew you were acting strange from the get go, but let himself ignore it because you seemed happy and that's all he wanted. He saw it now, your constricted pupils, they way you relied on him to hold your weight. He had thought you were finally trusting him but he was wrong. "Are you-?"

        "High?" You finish for him. "A little." It's a lie.

        He feels the kiss was a lie. Illegitimate. He wanted you plenty but not out of your head. He wanted you steady and sure. Something to even out the roaring between his ears. His touch fell away. Your body followed after him but he avoids your advance.

        "I shouldn't." He knows but seeing you chase after him, eyes searching and lips parted, made him want you more. Which means he really, really shouldn't. "I'm sorry I didn't notice I-" 

        His teeth clack together when the fists come down on the back of his head. Body hammered feet down into the rock. You don't get to see it, already hundreds of feet above the porthole. Held by the middle where your body went slack against the arms caging you in. The pressing g-force ceased. You were far above the horizon. Above where anyone could hear you scream.

        You can see his legs, coated black, going into blue boots. Feel his body pressed to your back, grip tight around your middle. Fingerless gloved hands raking across the bare skin between your tank top and pants.

        "Hey," Lensless says against your ear.

        "Lan-" His hand didn't just press to your lips, no, he forced his fingers into your mouth. Dusty skin lathed across your tongue, forced to the back of your throat where you gagged, much to his enjoyment.

        "Much as I want you to, we're not doing that. Not yet." 

        He uses his hand in your mouth to puppeteer your neck. Makes you watch the fight below as it erupts into the desert. Baldie is pissed, but smart enough to know anymore underground thrashing could collapse the cave system- kill you all without access to water. 

        Scars is a yellowjacket blaze under the afternoon sun. Back for a surprise round two with the added stressor of you being held hostage in the sky. Baldie's distracted, keeps trying to pull from Scars to get to you and Lensless, but that's what Scars had been betting on. What they'd both been betting on. 

        Lensless doesn't let you go as he drops like an anvil directly into Baldie's flight path. His heels crack something in Baldie's back while Scars fist nearly punches a hole in his belly. When the impact is done, Baldie falls to the sand. Shirt torn, bruises already blooming under his skin. Blood pooling out the side of his mouth where some of his teeth had been knocked loose. 

        You screamed against Lensless's hand. Thrash in his hold as he climbs higher in the sky. Followed by Scars sporting a fully busted lens and a purple shiner. They matched in eyelessness, cruelty, and how much you wanted to kill them. 

        Lensless propped his head on your shoulder, observing your fit hopefully. "Are you gonna cry?"

        Scars laughs but says, "Your little boyfriend will be fine." That gets your attention on him. So full of hatred and intent to kill. Just like his (Y/n) before it drained out between his legs. He doesn't know if things will end the same and that's why he's here with Lensless. To change you, make you stronger by sheer force. "Just couldn't have him interrupting. He wouldn't get it."

        You bite Lensless's fingers hard as your jaw would allow, a growl vibrating through your body.

        "So weak," Lensless says but he's shivering in delight at the attempt. "But you should quit while you're ahead. If I get too excited, I think I'll crush you." He laughs at the idea. You wet and red and all over him, makes his cock twitch.

        Much as you hate listening, you do. "Good job." Lensless bumps the top of his head against your jaw. "I knew you'd listen." 

        "Don't praise her." Scars victorious smile melts as he stares you down. "You've been bad."

        You'd ask him what he meant if you weren't murderous and gagged.

        "You don't seem to get it. Those other guys, they're weak, useless. Couldn't take a bomb to the head like I can. They don't deserve you." He hovers closer, reaches between him and Lensless and holds up your chin. Fingers pressing hard to flesh. 

        Lensless pulls you back, out of his grip. A gesture that says 'it's not your turn with my toy, yet.' "Hey bud, you forget I'm also one of those guys?"

        Annoyance flashed across Scars exposed eye. "You're smart enough to work with me." He leaves it at that, no promises of trust or friendship. Lensless grip tightens, makes your bones ache, but he doesn't pull you back when Scars reaches out. Thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "But you. You've been letting them pass you around. I get it, you're sad, you're lonely, you're looking to fill the void. And you can do that! You're your own person. I just need you to remember at the end of the day- you belong to me. Everytime you lend your lips or cunt out them?" His pointer and thumb squeeze your lip, pinching it plump and buzzing. "I see it. I feel it. I keep a tally of everytime you let them touch you, everytime you betray me. Do you know what that tally's at?" His head tilts, waiting, though you literally can't reply.

        "Come on, answer him." Lensless jostles your rear with his knee. 

        Your hands, pressed to your sides by Lensless's arms, twitch. Scars notices, looks at them smiling. Up comes a single finger. Counting off your fuck with Omni or kiss with Baldie- he can't tell. Because it's your middle finger and he's laughing at you for daring to defy him.

        "I'll take that as an 'I don't know'." He sighs, "Everytime that number goes up, know that I'm waiting for them to leave you alone or with someone weak. And they will because they all are. So I'll find you vulnerable and alone," he leaned in, pinching your lip so hard drool started to seep onto his gloves, "and make you understand how bad I feel when you're with them. And if you're not strong enough to take it, you die." He's close enough to bite your lip. For you to feel the heat of his stale breath. Then he removes himself from your personal space all at once. Skin-crawling touch gone. 

        "Ready?" Scars asked.

        Lensless grins against your neck. "Oh hell yeah."

        The flesh gag was gone, but so was the arm around your torso. You hurdled to the dunes, softer than your human body but you'd splat like it was concrete on impact. You can only see the sky, the men falling either side of you, looking bored with terminal velocity. You snap, "Catch me!" 

        They both hurdle toward you, two sets of arms under your back. Stopping the decent slowly, not too sudden. When you're finally stopped, your heart is hammering in your chest, you're still far above the ground but no longer falling. Not safe because the men you controlled were no longer held under your will. They grin down at you. Satisfied before both sets of their arms fall away again.

        It's catch and release. They let you fall, scream a command with blood pouring out of your nose. They mock praise as they drag you back up high into the sky. By the third round, you've calmed enough to know what to do when Lensless catches you before Scars. You turn to him, grinning under the perpetual summer sun and say with a finger pointed at Scars, "Kill him."

        You are dropped because in Lensless's head, he can't kill Scars while holding you. The logic and semantics work against you. And again you fall screaming, "Catch me, catch me!" But he's too fast, too far away in the atmosphere with a fist poised for Scar's throat.

        ***

        Phantom watched the exchange. Let Baldie fall without help. Because he understood and agreed with what Lensless and Scars were doing. You did need to be stronger, needed to hold your own if you were to choose one of them. Work out that muscle of power because you'd let it go so slack in the desert. 

        He knew it'd happen sooner or later. You forcing them to attack each other, forgetting that morality and gravity don't mix. Scars tries to save you, he didn't want you to die even though he acted like it. Scars wanted you to suffer the slow creep of his corruption and not wilt, but thrive under it. Phantom understood this, didn't fault him for it. They were all creatures of some desire.

        Scars could not dodge around Lensless long enough to catch you. Your hold had been getting better once you'd started eating again. There was no telling how long Lensless would attack. Scars was ruthless, trying to kill him but just couldn't. The fact was, Lensless was the faster of the two.

        When you neared the ground, Phantom was there. Shot out of the porthole as a silent shadow, slowing you down then bringing you to a stop. Your unconscious body limp in his arms, stirring after a few seconds, as your body figured out it was still alive and not falling.

        You look up at him, shaking, nose bleeding, sun in your eyes. So beautiful, weak, alive. Your hand clinging to his chest enough to bandage the wounds you'd left him. 

        ***

        They lay beside one another in the sand. Skin burst open by sheer force. Sun beating down on their bodies.

        "You get it now, asshole?" Tracksuit tried not to sound winded, but he was. That gay little fucker could move.

        There was no reply. Tracksuit heaved up onto his elbows, thinking the other dead and more jerky was on the way.

        A few of his ribs were bruised but he breathed on. "You could've just talked to me instead of hitting me." Maskless said. 

        "I tried that, 'member?" Tracksuit flopped back into the sand.

        "Yeah, well, you're not very good with words." Maskless said with no bite.

        Tracksuit slapped him across the chest, earning a groan. "Nah, but I'm pretty good with a fist."

        Maskless smacked the hand away. "Don't flatter yourself." He sat up, sand falling off his shoulders. Insides pounding. "We should get back. If the others see them together, they'll lose it."

        Tracksuit ran a hand through his hair. All the gel he'd slopped through it before coming to your Earth gone clumpy and stale. "I just don't get it, man. Why can't they leave her alone? They're pushing her away by being freaks."

        "Because we're us." Maskless stood, "We can't leave these things alone. You wanted something bad enough to make a deal with Angstrom Levy, so you're no different from the rest of us."

        Tracksuit chuffed because the guy had a point. "I can. She's just some human." 

        "Would you be saying that if she was Rex Sloan?" 

        That name from that mouth made Tracksuit go stiff. "You creepy little fucker."

        "I know if she were William, I'd be acting just as crazy." Out came Maskless's hand, offered with no smile. "If not more than some of them are."

        Tracksuit considers slapping the offer away but takes the hand, pulling himself up off an aching tailbone. "I ain't you know, man."

        "I know," Maskless says, though he doesn't believe it. He and Rex had a thing years back before it all went bad. There was bound to be another one of him who had the hots for that idiot. Still, he tacked on, "I see how you look at her, I get the picture." 

        "No, no, I mean I don't..." Tracksuit let go of his hand soon as possible. 

        Maskless held himself with a seriousness he didn't feel. He told himself the same thing a long, long time ago. "You'll figure it out." He hovered above the sand, "We going or what?"

        ***

        The fireside is chaos. 

        You are drained dry of power and want to kill despite how your body is shaking from the adrenaline and codeine come down. Baldie wants them dead more than you do. Omni more than he. Omni held you when he heard, hand cradling your head as you tried not to lean into it. You were almost glad for the distraction Scars and Lensless brought to the group, because he was being obvious, and if someone asked you were sure he wouldn't deny it.

        Tracksuit watched on, achy all over. Back to treating your personal drama like his TV after a long day. Maskless nearby considers swiping one of Tracksuit's cigarettes. Sneaking out and smoking while this fizzled out, but he had to stay. Make sure if the peace snapped that the cave didn't collapse.

        Scars and Lensless revel in the jeering and suggestions of exile from Gray. The threats of death from Omni. Regrettably, they lived through your control. Scars suit was frayed, cape torn at all the edges but he was fine. Lensless's chest was exposed, skin gone purple with bruising. 

        After Phantom caught you, the two had played it relatively smart. Avoiding camp until nightfall, where Baldie told everyone what they'd done while licking his wounds. Only when he was proclaiming his hate for the yellowjacket and his minion did they make an entrance. Leading to the current hellscape of things.

        Despite all the talk, it was Mohawk who was the first to lunge for Scars, waiting for the fight with open arms. Phantom jumped between them, just barely able to keep them off each other.

        "Stop." He says.

        "He could've fucking killed her." Spit flies off Mohawk's lip onto his mask. 

        "Please, she was fine. Aren't you, sweet thing?" The second Scars eyes land on you, Mohawk reaches around Phantom and cracks Scars in the temple. Scars cackles as he hits the ground. "You'll thank me for it later." Mohawk lunges.

        Phantom grabs his ankle and throws Mohawk across the room. "Listen to me."

        Listen, Mohawk does not. He flies for Scars. "I'm tired of your face!"

        "We have the same face!"

        The screech tears through the room. Bounces off the walls. Reverberates through your bones. Mohawk's flight waivers, he crashes in a heap, clutching his ears. The rest of them are in similar positions, groaning, hands on head. 

        Phantom does not apologize, he is not sorry. "I was hoping you wouldn't make me use this." He says cool through the modulator. During the second day of the ravaging of Earth he'd caught out one of the re-animen. Taken the speaker from its chest, a tiny thing that he hid in the pockets of his utility belt. Down to the core, he wanted to curl into a ball and scream, but the noise-canceling tech in his suit's ears helped curb the urge. It also helped that he knew it was coming, that he controlled the noise.

        "Turn it off!" Mohawk snaps. 

        "Not until you listen." He says, louder, more confident than he'd felt in his entire life. Mohawk does not protest again. "You can exile them, kill them even, but it will not fix the problem. We all want her to ourselves, but we can't fracture into factions, We'll just end up killing each other and her. The best thing for her, for all of us, is to work together."

        "Fuck that." Mohawk spat, the only one able to speak over the noise.

        "You don't have to like it, but if you don't want her to die in the crossfire, you'll do it." Phantom is right. Feels the truth sink into the bones of everyone around him. Yet he leaves the frequency playing, "You don't want her to die again, do you?"

        Mohawk doesn't. None of them do. 

        He turns it off when he senses no more fight in the room. He waits for Mohawk to lunge at Scars. He thinks about it, Phantom can see it in his spring-loaded muscles but he doesn't. 

        Scars rises to his feet, hiding the stagger Mohawk punched into him. "We'll be back." He says it as he floats towards the exit, "Remeber, I keep a tally." His eyes are on you.

        Lensless went to follow, their partnership officially cemented, "See you guys this time tomorrow, cool?"

        They were gone. You took a shuddering breath.

        Baldie shot up to follow them. But stopped when you said, "Wait."

        "Don't you want them to die for what they did to you?" He tries to keep the anger out of his voice, the accusation he wants to level at you, at the others for letting this continue. 

        Your head was pounding. You were well into come down. Regretting and not regretting the dancing from earlier that killed your only flashlight. Regretting and not regretting the kiss. "I do, but if anyone's killing them, I am."

        Baldie shifted uncomfortably. He didn't know if you could.

        "I-" His lip twisted. How could you want those two alive even a second longer? Why? Did you favor them? Like the harassment? Is that what he should be doing instead of being soft and kind? Would you like him without drugs then? The anger chewing at his insides is surprising and sharp. 

        He shot into the caves to angst alone in the quiet, familiar enclosure of darkness. Even though he knew it'd make him worse. 

        You try to rise to your feet before falling back down wobbly. Head falling to your hands. Gray quietly brings the basin of freshly boiled water to your side for you to drink. He and Omni hover within reach but say nothing. 

        Phantom disappeared into the caves behind Baldie not long after. Nobody noticed. All so fretful over you, minds racing with options. But if they really cared, they'd be doing what he was doing. Approaching Baldie from behind.

[actuallysaiyan]

Nanami, is in fact, a panty thief. It started when he first met you at Jujutsu High, but it progressed more as you followed him to University. And it didn't stop, no...it got worse.

He's got an affinity for the dirty ones. He loves the sweet smell of your panties. He brings them up to his nose and with his other hand, he strokes his leaking cock. The thought of you just sitting on his face is what helps fuel the rest of this little fantasy of his. Kento won't stop at just one pair either. He's stolen quite a few, but he always makes sure it's within reason. He doesn't want you getting any ideas.

When he was only 18, he found himself in your dorm room alone while you showered. The thrill of being caught by you was making him even harder. His cock leaked all over the pretty lace of your soiled panties, while another one sat on his face. He kept thinking how you'd come out of the shower and find him in the most vulnerable and lewd position.

It never happened...not until you were both older and back to being sorcerers. Even after all this time, Kento still needs to steal your panties. He'd sell his soul for a whiff of your pretty little cunt. He's never ever told you how he feels, but he can live with that because he always will steal your panties.

One night, he waits for you in your apartment as you take a shower. Old habits die hard, and he's fucking his fist as he sniffs your filthy panties. The smell of your cunt is so pungent and sweet, he's drooling as he keeps the frilly little thing on his nose. Oh you could so easily find him this way. He wants you to find him, after all these years of pining. He's grunting and growling as his fist keeps sliding up and down his throbbing cock.

"KENTO!" You shriek as you enter your bedroom. Your heart is racing and you feel a deep need boiling in your belly from the scene unfolding in front of you. He smirks at you from his position on the bed.

You aren't even sure how to respond, but he motions for you to come closer. You have to see where this goes. You climb onto the bed, your mouth watering at the sight of his thick cock. It's bigger than you've ever imagined it to be. He loves the way your eyes have grown dark with lust.

"Sit on my face," he begs. "Please baby. 'Need to taste you so bad."

You're in shock, but your lust for him makes your body move on its own. You drop your towel and you pull the panties away from him and toss them away. Your cunt sits right where he needs it, and without another thought, he begins lapping at you like this life depends on it.

Finally... He has you right where he needs you. And he has no intention of letting you go.

[whetstonefires]

My personal take on how we're supposed to understand the role of Wei Wuxian's alternate cultivation method in fucking him up so bad is that:

It's deliberately ambiguous; he never actually does anything that's so utterly out of character it has to be attributed to Evil Energies. And at each stage of deterioration, he always has exciting new traumas precipitating the decline. I think we're set up to expect him to have been more explicitly Corrupted By Dark Magics than he ever turns out to have been, because that's a very standard trope that's being played with. But like, he went into Tunnel Vision Murder Mode just fine on his own, during his effort to get Jiang Cheng back right after the massacre; Wen Ning really struggled to talk him down enough to accept help, and he remained a paranoid mess all the way to Yiling. That's all trauma, no dark magic yet! Equally, a lot of stuff from the Burial Mounds on could be driven in part by direct contact with ghosts and ghouls being bad for his mental health on a spiritual pollution basis. But a lot of it is very definitely PTSD, and the isolating effects of having to keep his disability secret, especially from the person he should be most able to lean on, but can't.

A big part of why it wasn't fucking him up worse was that he'd lost his core. You know how Nie Mingjue died? How the Nie sect leaders usually die? Qi deviation, due to corruption from the resentful spirits of dead animals. Well, actually due to Jin Guangyao, but it followed the expected pattern, and resulted in him losing his mind to the point of killing anyone he could reach. This is a cultivator-specific problem, something that arises from having a cultivation base that gets warped out of true. And the stronger they are, the worse it gets; the more inevitable and extreme the dissolution. The details of the Nie problem are secret, but its underlying principles are common knowledge. Wei Wuxian was uniquely positioned as a talented, experienced cultivator who no longer had a cultivation base to fuck up. Being able to push the corpse path as far as he did without going into a fatal qi deviation or otherwise blowing himself up was due to this special circumstance--normally, anyone with the expertise to operate at that level has built up their cultivation to a high enough level to be vulnerable to corruption, and anyone without a cultivation base to send into deviation has no way to have developed the necessary skills with manipulating energy and so forth. (And probably doesn't have a sufficient background education either, and if they do have the education and yet no cultivation to speak of, they probably lack talent.) Even apart from his unique genius, no one else could have done it. He should have gone crazy and died, years earlier. A cultivator would have. Which was a big part of the reason he didn't really engage on the subject at all, and just focused on deflection and stonewalling everyone, rather than trying to make a case for himself. And why he wasn't taking outside opinions about the risk seriously, because they didn't know what they were talking about, and he couldn't afford for them to think too hard about why they were wrong.

So when he ultimately had the massive murder breakdown, everyone understood it as a purely personal thing that was happening inside of him due to his personal choice to live a self-destructive lifestyle, validating the righteousness of everyone who didn't make that choice. Rather than the result of largely-systemic external forces acting on him and his loved ones to the point that he broke. And society didn't have to assume any responsibility whatsoever.

[lightlycareless]

tiny mentions of smut.

It just came to me that Naoya being so possessive of you, in dire need of having you by his side at all times, might actually force you to sit on his lap. Completely barring you from even considering anything else that wasn’t him, because if not, he’d be a sulking, irritating mess all day.

Is it ridiculous? Maybe. Does it make you feel that way? Absolutely. And it’s worse when the people around you start commenting on it, as if the act itself wasn’t embarrassing enough!!

“Naoya… everyone is staring at us.” You murmur, face burning bright red as murmurs began to fill your ears.

“Let them, they’re just jealous.” Naoya smirks, pressing his hand deeper onto your waist and pulling you closer, flustering you even more, specially when they begin to curiously roam across your body, beneath your clothes...

“Jealous?!” you breathe, whether he intended these words to lighten your mood… well, they failed! If anything, it just made you feel worse! “I doubt anyone would find this desirable…”

Naoya laughs.

“Ah, if you only knew.” He says, leaning closer to your ear. “There’s are quite a few fools who dreamed of an opportunity like this, with you—but rest assured, I made sure they wouldn’t even dare think about it, less they wished to… die.”

You always hated how Naoya did and said things that, while somewhat obnoxious, they still managed to awaken a deep, heat inside you you’ve tried your best to suppress past your squirms and ignore! An endeavor that grew increasingly more difficult each time you found yourself in this type of position.

But perhaps what you disliked the most was the fact that you couldn’t do much in retaliation; for whatever you did, nothing seemed to fluster him back!

Seems you were fated to continue being his arm candy, the doll he could have perched up in his lap while you tried having a civil conversation with your friends and servants—

Until you could no longer ignore the pressure forming beneath your clothes, a bulge that would require your immediate attention, far more than Naoya’s desire to show off what he had, and no one else could.

The murmurs always seemed to grow more afterwards at the sight of your flushed face, and Naoya's satisfied demeanor; but just as always, he'd do little next to nothing to stop them.

Outside of fueling their imaginations.

which is always but who is counting.

[xobrendann]

pictures and prejudice.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

warnings: homophobia, use of "fairy".

synopsis: you and jj were cuddled up at the boneyard, hanging out with the pogues by a fire. kie snaps a picture of them, and sends it to jj for him to post. the reactions were positive, but rafe and topper did not like it very much.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

the boneyard was alive with the usual friday night energy – bonfires dotting the beach like earthbound stars, music drifting from various speakers, and the constant sound of waves providing nature's bassline. you sat between jj's legs in the sand, leaning back against his chest while his chin rested on your shoulder.

"smile!" kiara called out, holding up her phone. the flash went off, capturing the moment – jj pressing a kiss to your cheek while you laughed, your nose scrunched up in that way that made jj's heart skip.

"send that to me," jj said, already reaching for his own phone. "that's definitely going on instagram."

they'd been taking pictures all night, drunk on happiness and the simple joy of being together. jj kept pulling you close for selfies, making silly faces or stealing kisses that your friends documented with fond eye-rolls and teasing comments.

"you guys are worse than john b and sarah," pope complained good-naturedly, throwing a handful of sand their way.

"impossible," sarah countered, but she was smiling as she watched jj arrange his phone for another photo, positioning it so the setting sun created a perfect backdrop.

"perfect," jj murmured, looking at the picture he'd just taken. the orange sky painted everything in warm tones, and your (e/c) looked almost golden. you were kissing in the photo, soft and sweet, with your hands cupped around jj's face and jj's fingers tangled in your (h/c, hair texture) hair.

"let me see," you leaned over, then blushed at the image. "awh, jj.. that's so cute."

"hell yeah it is," jj was already adding filters, his tongue poking out in concentration. "this is going up right now."

"you sure?" you asked quietly. you guys hadn't exactly been hiding your relationship, but you hadn't been advertising it on social media either.

jj paused, looking at you seriously. "i'm sure. unless... unless you don't want me to?"

you answered by kissing him, soft and sure. "post it."

so he did, adding a simple caption: "lucky doesn't even begin to cover it. 🤍" and tagging you.

the likes started rolling in immediately – mostly their friends and others who'd known about them for weeks now. the comments were full of heart emojis and supportive messages, making you smile as you read them over jj's shoulder.

sarahcameron: "look at how cute they are. 💞"

kiecarrera: "so much for a soft launch."

but then, later, the tone changed.

"what the fuck is this gay shit, maybank?" rafe's comment appeared, followed quickly by topper's: "always knew you were a fairy. guess trash attracts trash."

you felt jj tense against you, saw his jaw clench. before either of them could respond, more comments flooded in as jj kept refreshing:

"guess we know why you were always staring in the locker room 🤮"

"what happened to being a player? did you run out of girls to disappoint?"

"better watch your back at school monday."

"hey," john b noticed their expressions and moved closer. "what's wrong?"

wordlessly, jj handed over his phone. john b's face darkened as he read, and soon the whole group was huddled around, reading the increasingly nasty comments.

"block them," kiara said firmly. "report the comments. don't let them get to you."

"i'm not ashamed," jj's voice was tight with anger. "i won't take it down."

"no one's saying you should," sarah assured him, already on her own phone reporting the harassment. "but maybe we should head home. it's getting late anyway."

they packed up their things, the earlier joy of the evening somewhat dampened. jj held your hand the whole walk back, his grip almost too tight, like he was afraid you might disappear.

the next morning dawned bright and clear, but there was tension in the air. you and jj were supposed to meet everyone at the wreck for breakfast, and jk insisted on picking you up rather than meeting there.

"i don't want you walking alone," he said when you questioned it.

you were halfway to the wreck when you guys spotted them – rafe and topper, along with a couple other kooks, leaning against their expensive cars in the parking lot.

"well, well," rafe pushed off his car as they approached. "the lovebirds decided to show their faces."

"move," jj's voice was low, dangerous. he positioned himself slightly in front of you.

"or what?" topper stepped forward, sneering. "you gonna kiss me too?"

"back off," you surprised yourself by speaking up, even though your heart was racing. "you're really this bothered by a photo?"

"we're bothered by you two flaunting your... whatever this is," rafe gestured between them dismissively. "this isn't that kind of island."

"what kind of island is it then?" john b's voice cut through the tension. he appeared behind rafe, pope and kiara flanking him. "because last i checked, it was our island too."

the arrival of reinforcements changed the dynamic. rafe and topper might have been willing to take on you and jj, but the whole Pogue crew was a different story.

"this isn't over," rafe warned, as he was already backing toward his car.

"actually , it is," sarah stepped out from behind a building, her phone clearly recording. "unless you want this little interaction going viral. i'm sure dad would love to see you harassing people on camera, rafe."

the other kooks retreated, engines revving as they peeled out of the parking lot. as soon as they were gone, your legs gave out. jj caught you, pulling you close.

"i've got you," jj murmured against your hair. "i've got you, (n/n).."

"i'm sorry," you whispered. "maybe we should have waited to post that picture..."

"no," jj pulled back, cupping your face in his hands. "listen to me. i'm not sorry. i'm proud to be with you. i'm proud of us. they don't get to take that away."

"he's right," kiara stepped forward, wrapping them both in a hug that quickly turned into a group embrace as the others joined in.

later, at the wreck, you posted another picture – all of you guys crowded into a booth, you and jj in the middle, surrounded by your chosen family. the caption read: "love wins. deal with it. 🌊"

the comments this time were overwhelmingly positive, drowning out any negativity with waves of support.

under the table, jj squeezed your hand. "see? for every asshole, there's ten good people."

"when did you get so wise?" you teased, bumping your shoulders together.

"must be your influence," jj grinned, then leaned in to kiss you, right there in the wreck, not caring who saw.

because love was love, and theirs was worth fighting for.

the end !!

hope u guys liked this 😣

[gladiatorcunt]

MARLBORO REDS - ANAKIN SKYWALKER

cause good men die too, so i’d rather be with you

summary: mechanic dilf!anakin x gender neutral kindergarten teacher!reader

wc: 8.4k

cw: “soft” dark content, made padme’s death vague on purpose, anakin has the vibes of a married father of 4 hitting on you while you’re waiting on their table at olive garden, daddy kink, anakin imagines killing someone, MALE MASTURBATION (the most graphic fantasies are skull fucking and anakin kinda hoping you’ll tear when he puts it in), bra mention (reader does have a fem style but i’m nb so that’s how i see it and men can also have a fem style), it’s not mentioned but anakin is going through cigarette withdrawals, anakin’s canon typical inability to be in a healthy relationship, possibly predictable plot twist (?), i wanted to be a lot grosser, anakin is 42 and he’s depicted as such, age gap (reader is in their early 20’s), this takes place in the U.S.

requests are open (read the rules first)

block & move on if uncomfortable

do not repost or translate!!

The exhaust fumes transported him for a moment, somewhere tropical with a cigar in one hand and a tit in the other as a wet body slid adjacent to his. His hard-earned vacation went up in flames as a shrill car horn hunted down his eardrums. Anakin snapped out of it and stared through his brittle bangs with dead eyes. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, how to act like a normal human being one of them. 

"Alright, that should be everything. Since we just needed to rotate your tires and do an oil change, we're looking at about 142 dollars."

"Thank you so much, I'll just go pay at the front desk. Have a good one!"

Anakin sighed and gave a half assed wave that she didn't even see. He has nowhere near as much spunk as he did back in the day, but his energy is always shot to hell long before he sees his last customer of the day. Luckily it was just a routine maintenance type of thing, he would've just bashed his head in with a wrench if it was anything more. 

Puddles of blood trot after said customer, he’s amazed that they can drive so well considering they have a bullet in their head. 

There’s no bullet or rivers of blood in actuality, but a man can dream. 

His knee joints creaked as he got out of his squatting position. He groaned from the effort while smearing his fingers in more grease trying to wipe them off on the pants of his overalls. The whole workshop smelled like garbage and he probably smelled even worse. His trusty grease rag was subsequently discarded on top of his portable tool tower. He noticed that a tub of lighter fluid was on its side so he prevented that big mess waiting to happen and screwed the cap shut, picked it up, and set it back on the shelves in the storage room. He had to remember to leave one of his employees a post-it notifying them that they were almost out. 

His sleeves were shucked up his soft muscular forearm to check his watch. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets like moles in a whack-a-mole machine when he saw the time. 

SHIT! 

It was 4:30, the time he's expected to be at Alderaan Apples Elementary to pick up his twins. He didn't have the time it would normally take him to drive 20 minutes back to his place for a 10 minute shower, and then drive 30 more minutes to be at his kids' school. He normally didn't work that late, since he owns the shop he can choose his own hours. But Anakin lost track of time obsessing over work and now he'd have to embarrass his kids by showing up covered in it. Their teacher would probably be there to chew him out, but in his defense this really didn't happen all that often. 

That teacher being arguably the biggest reason why he hated that they’d see him looking how he did right then. They're awfully pretty, with a chest that he's pictured slapping and sucking while their thick ass recoils from bouncing on his uncut cock. They had just moved to their average sized town at the start of the year, they told him at the parent teacher conferences at the beginning of the school year. Something about yearning to get away from their lackluster small town but also being too afraid to venture out into any kind of big city on their own. 

They were making the cutest little gestures when they were shyly talking his ear off too, shifting their thighs together as they swayed and never letting their eye contact stray too far away from their freshly polished mary janes. Anakin was very careful about remembering everything he could about Luke and Leia's first real school year. Hell, he was more scared than they were. But there was just something in the way this new teacher did their best to soothe any worries the kids might have. 

"It's okay, we'll be going on this new adventure together. And I'll do my very best to be there for you every step of the way. I hope you can be brave and look after me too!"

Luke nodded timidly but with a newfound sense of determination. Leia shouted an affirmative, being more extroverted in comparison to her brother. 

Their teacher was young, somewhere in their early 20's. Most likely having flown into town right after getting their degree. It made something in his gut swirl and simmer, imagining their delicate finger tracing his crow's feet and tugging on the gray in his hair. Their head nestled gently in between his squishy pecs, some of his muscle definition was lost with age but he had a feeling you'd like how much the slight softness of his belly highlighted the muscle underneath. 

The cliche apples in the blouse their teacher was wearing seemed to have Anakin in a trance as he zoned out. He grunted in acknowledgement when he needed to and slipped every form and newsletter he was given into his satchel. When it was time to head home, Luke and Leia clung to their teacher's legs. Anakin rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and bent over to pry them off. He explained how sorry he was, being a single dad meant that whether or not he meant to, the kids still looked for a mother figure. 

He'll never forget the way your eyes widened by a fraction, flicking up to make eye contact with his feigned nonchalant stare. You seemed.... happy to hear that he was single. But that could've just been an old man getting wrapped up in the delusions that he still has it. 

"I'm so sorry to hear that, Mr. Skywalker. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you how hard it is to do what you do everyday, but let me just say that I think you're doing an excellent job."

He thinks you'd do even better. 

By the time he had finished reliving that fond little memory, he could spot the street sign for the street the school was on. Ruffling his hair, he made a sharp right turn and slowly pulled into the parking lot. His black chevy truck performed beautifully like always so he gave her a solid pat on the hood. He turned on his heel, immediately seeing his children hugging either one of your legs. He was only 10 minutes late, it wasn't any better but he would never make his kids feel like he abandoned them. He never wanted them to go through what he had gone through when he was their age. 

He adjusted his collar and made a last ditch effort to wipe his fingers off on his clothes. He heard a  quiet cough. He shot his head up to catch your unamused eyes. A wry smile appeared on his face as he jogged over to you. When he reached  the three of you, he immediately crouched and placed a hand on Luke and Leia's shoulders. 

"Dad's really sorry, okay? He just lost track of time but he rushed over here as fast as he could as soon as he realized what time it was."

Luke peeked out from behind your leg, "Like the Flash?"

"Yes, Luke, like the Flash." Anakin chuckled, slowly opening his arms wide in the hopes that his kids weren’t too mad at him. 

Thankfully he was instantly overwhelmed by two bodies slamming into him, almost knocking him onto the ground and tumbling down the concrete steps. Luke was clutching onto him so tightly and Leia was giggling up a storm. He stood up and gently ushered his kids into holding one of his hands so they could stand beside him. 

He cleared his throat a few times before finally addressing you. 

"I'm so sorry, I don't know if you overheard but work was really hectic today and I didn't want to waste more time cleaning up. Please just think of me how you did before, I won't look like this tomorrow."

You sighed, shaking your head with a small smile. Your blouse had a floral pattern today, blue covered in peonies and apple blossoms. Your pants were some kind of plaid thing but you make them work so well. Anakin had  to actively keep his eyes from eye fucking your wide hips and oggling the expanse of your butt in the tight pants. Just thinking about how little must be left to the imagination made his cock ache in his overalls. But he restrained himself, he was going to ask you out when he was in a much better and.... cleaner state. He pushed the thoughts down and settled himself down with daydreams of the near future. 

"It's alright, Mr. Skywalker. I understand your situation, so long as it doesn't happen frequently and the children don't have to wait too long, we won't have a problem." You gently admonished the older man, not hiding the protective tone in your voice but still looking up at him with bashful warmth in your eyes. 

Stars, the way you were already so protective over his kids made him even harder. He briefly wondered how you'd be with their younger siblings. The image made his heart flutter and a wide smile stretched his lips. He shuffled from one foot to the other, praying to whatever God is out there that he's able to hide his boner in his baggy overalls. He still had quite a few years before he even wanted to think about having the birds and bees talk with the kids. He adjusted his overalls quickly and reached out a greasy rough palm to you. 

"I swear this won't happen everyday, thank you for being so kind. I definitely won't forget it." He murmured with a wink that was open to interpretation. 

You bit your lip as you leaned forward to slip your smooth palm into his. A sharp shiver traveled up Anakin's body and butterflies erupted in your stomach at the contact. You clicked your heels together and shook his hand, the weight of it made certain kinds of thoughts pop into your head that you'd rather not deal with at the moment. 

Reluctantly Anakin pulled his hand away, making sure it lingered more than was necessary or appropriate. He put his back to you and double checked that Luke and Leia had one hand in each of his and their other hands on the strap of their backpacks. Luke had one with planets on it while Leia had one with dinosaurs. He looked down at their feet to make sure that they were going slow and steady on the steps. They reached the bottom of the steps and walked across the parking lot to Anakin's truck. He opened the back seat, lifting Leia first and waiting for her to settle in before nearly throwing out his back bending down again to help Luke in. He buckled them up and made sure their seatbelts were fastened properly. He took a few steps back and gingerly closed the backseat door on Luke's side. His back was screaming at him on the trip around the back of the truck, it especially burned when he haphazardly threw his door open and climbed up into the driver's seat. 

The drive home was the same as it was everyday. Leia excitedly told her father all about every single detail of her day and Luke needing less coaxing to talk about his as the school year progressed. Luke was upset when they ran out of apple juice at lunch because that meant he had to have grape. Leia bragged about the rock she painted during craft time. Anakin listened intently, no matter what kind of depraved shit he felt for their teacher, he wanted to take extra care that both of his kids felt heard and appreciated at the end of the day. He responded with jokes and questions to keep them talking, it distracted them from realizing how long the drive was to the house.

They pulled into the house's garage half an hour later. Anakin was about ready to collapse into a pile of bones in his recliner. Luke and Leia ran like bats out of hell through the door and up the stairs to their bedrooms. He could hear the sounds of them putting their backpacks on their hooks and unzipping them to go through the jungle of papers they stash in them. 

The fridge was fresh out of Dr. Pepper so Anakin grumbled and got a can of bud lite from his locked minifridge on the counter. He managed to make it to the couch before he let himself fall face first onto the cushions. 

The pitter patter of tiny feet bounding down the stairs yanked him from sleep so he sat up and leaned his cheek against the arm of the couch.

"Dad! Dad! Dad! Look!" Luke blurted out, shoving some kind of paper in his dad's smushed face. 

Anakin grimaced but made himself sit upright. He reached out and took the paper from Luke, holding it at a good distance away from his face and at a downwards angle so he could read it properly. 

"What's this, buddy?"

"It's a paper for the party, Dad! The Valentine's day one that's um.... this Friday, i think.” Luke nervously wrung his hands in his striped shirt as he spoke. “I want to get something for my teacher too…” 

Anakin rubbed his shaved chin as he read the paper. Luke was right. It was a newsletter informing parents about the Valentine's Day party each class would be holding on Friday. There would be no working or classes and instead every class would have an all day party for both the children and their parents. Students were allowed to bring any snacks of choice, but they had to bring a box of valentine cards for their class and give one to every student in their class.

"That must be nice, having no school for a day. Well, i'll be there on Friday and tomorrow we can go to the store and get the supplies for you and your sister." 

“And we can get something for my teacher?”

“Of course Luke, that’d be a very nice thing to do for them.”

"Okay! Thanks, dad, love you!" Luke cheered, bouncing on his feet and kissing Anakin on the cheek while giving him a second long side hug before running back upstairs. 

The next day the Skywalker family was back in the truck on the way to the biggest local supermarket in the area. It wasn't too far, just in the next town over. They could've gone to the smaller store back home, but the kids liked having options and liked car rides that were like little road trips. (Why they hated the longer drives when they were to school but liked them in situations like this, Anakin could sympathize. 

Anakin shut the radio off when they pulled into the large parking lot of the supermarket. He put his car in park and turned the engine off. The wind chill smacked him right in the face as soon as he stepped out of his seat. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms to warm himself up and walked over to get Leia and Luke out of the car as quickly as possible without freezing his ass off. They did the standard routine of holding their dad's hands while they crossed the parking lot. Anakin was telling them to look both ways to watch out for any cars that were coming as they walked along the crosswalks. Mercifully they weren't in the cold long before they entered the store.

The bright white LED overhead lights made Anakin want to pass out but he followed closely behind the kids that were already running themselves ragged all over the place. He reminded them what they were here for and his arms were pulled to their breaking point all the way to the card aisle. There were so many options of valentine card packs. There were Bluey ones, Spiderman, ones that looked like the cootie catchers you fold and pull apart, et cetera. 

Luke ended up choosing Spiderman ones that came with pencils. Leia chose a kitten design for her cards. 

Anakin almost fell asleep on the ride home. He let the kids pick out drinks from the little displays in front of the registers so they were miles away in sugar rush land. He made a note to pop a couple ibuprofens before he went to bed. Some days are easier than others but since his wife passed away when his kids were newborns, he’s never known what it was like to be able to depend on someone else to always be there to help. His childhood friend Obi-wan stops by every so often to stay over, his mom and step-dad babysit when he stops being stubborn, but that’s once in a blue moon. The sunset casts light onto the sunspots and hair on his arms. He rolled both of his sleeves up because his body typically runs hot and global warming making the temperature 65 degrees in the middle of February does him no favors. 

The McDonald’s they drove through got the kids happy meals wrong three times, something that was clearly a sign of the apocalypse. 

He had to remind Luke and Leia not to run too fast as they clammored out of the truck with his assistance and bolted to the front door. Anakin sighed his millionth sigh of the day and clamped a hand on Leia’s head to steady her as he searched his rusty old keyring for their house key. His steady hand inserted the key into the lock, ushering his kids inside with his free hand while he pushed the door open. His long legs moved at a sloth like pace, Leia and Luke ignored him and shot up the stairs like two little rockets.

“Guys, slow down. Marshmallow feet, remember?” He reminded them and leaned around the corner so they could hear him, shaking his head in exasperation when all he gets in response is a couple “Okay, dad!”s. 

The white and orange ibuprofen bottle stored in one of the many dark wood cabinets over the fridge beckoned him with a come hither motion. He’s little more than a slave to his baser instincts so he dutifully heeded the call. The cabinet creaked when he cracked it open but he couldn’t give less of a fuck as he dove for the pill bottle and shook out a few orange pills. He exhaled in relief in a way that would suggest he was smoking weed when his adams apple bobbed as the pills hit his stomach. 

With that mindless task out of the way, Anakin slowly journeyed up the stairs to get Leia and Luke ready for bed. He kept a stern eye on them to ensure they brushed their teeth, used their mouthwash properly, and washed their faces. After the kids completed their bedtime routines, he tucked them into bed while humming a lullaby Obi-Wan had taught them when he held them as infants. He gave them their time to say goodnight to their mom, Luke looked at the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling when he said it and Leia clutched her stegosaurus plushie when she whispered her goodnight. 

Anakin didn’t contribute but he warmly kissed his twins on their foreheads and tucked the corners of their comforters around their shoulders. 

His heavy work boots thundered against the hardwood floor of the hallway as he walked out of their room and down the carpeted stairs to the den. He unhooked the buttons holding up his overalls on his shoulders and shimmied his ruined overalls down to his ankles. His hairy thighs expanded as he stepped out of them so he could kick them to the other side of the room. He was left in only his boxers and a white tank top that would never be white again. So he flexed his arms as he took that tank top off too. Grease stains were all over his body but he could at least take a shower now. 

His boxers joined the towels from yesterday’s shower on the floor as his soft cock flopped out. He gave it an absentminded stroke that injected something molten into his bone marrow. He bent over to reach the faucet and turned the water on. The shower didn't start until the water babbling over his thick calloused fingers was hot enough to cook a lobster in. 

He rolled his shoulders back as he stepped into the shower. His mouth dropped open in a silent exclamation and his neck popped as his head lolled back. The onslaught of boiling hot water pin pricked his skin in a pleasure-pain sort of way that made his thoughts temporarily quiet down. 

His cock gave a couple twitches but Anakin elected to wait until he had at least washed his hair before he rubbed a much needed orgasm out. 

3-in-1 shampoo that smelled like some dior cologne was all up in his hair, his hands unhurriedly glided through his short-ish soapy strands. He angled his head back and let the lather he had worked up be drowned out by the shower head. He grabbed his vanilla & shea butter body wash and let the spout rest against his glistening pecs as his fingers curled around the stocky bottle and squeezed. The smooth liquid spurted out over his pecs and dripped down his body. He reached his hands right up under the steady stream and soaped up his pecs, ghosting his thumbs over his puffy nipples before spreading his hands out and spreading the soapsuds all over the rest of his body. 

Squelching sounds echoed off the shower floor as Anakin widened his stance. His right hand was subconsciously traveling closer and closer to his half-hard cock. He had worked so hard, finally being able to relax and luxuriate in the silence made the blood in his body migrate further south. 

A certain teacher flashed through his mind, his head whipped down in shock to discern how greatly his flushed cock swelled up faster just at the single image of his kids’ kindergarten teacher. 

An aurora borealis of fantasies swirled in the air. 

You’re kneeling on a pillow (he would be at serious risk of getting more brow wrinkles if you had to touch the harsh dirty floor with your bare skin.) and bobbing your head up and down the fat cock making a bulge in your cheek. Your sparkling eyes have this glazed over look to them as he anchors his hands on the back of your head. He widens his stance and bullies your throat with his heavy cock. You squeak and sputter but you take it like such a good pet. Your plump lips slide off of his meat a couple inches but before he can do anything, you’re groping his taut ass as you wiggle your head down to the base of his cock. Your eyes flutter shut as your brain shuts off; your nose is buried right in his musky bush. His face scrunches up in the best kind of pain, but he locks his gaze on the way your eyes roll back when he begins to skull fuck you.

Thank god for oral fixations. 

“Gonna let Daddy soak this warm throat pussy?” Don’t worry, he knows you can’t exactly use your vocal chords properly at the moment. So he nods your head for you, deepening his thrusts into slow sharp jabs. 

He’d baptize you in cum if you let him, your skin would look so pretty and glossy covered in it. He’d help you wipe it off after he cements the image of your eyelashes sticking together in his mind. 

Now he’s grabbing your love handles while his cock builds his dream home in your guts. Your ass shakes back against his hips as you try to steady the phone in your hands and face it towards the overhead. He grabs your hair in one fist and gently tugs your head up so you can pay attention properly. He didn’t go through all this just to let you hide away from him. In a perfect world, the kids would be staying with his mom so you’d be more than welcome to lose your voice.

The vision in his mind shifts to you being on your back, hands trembling trying to hold your legs as close to your chest as possible. You’re looking up at him like he was born in the center of the sun. He’s looking back at you like you’re the moon made flesh, eternally encapsulated in his sea of stars. Anakin smiles triumphantly but with a heady passion in his gait that threatens to burn his lungs to ash, coughing them up over your open heart. 

“You’re doing so well puppy, that’s my brave baby.” He coos and pries your hands off your thighs finger by finger. 

Once your hands are free, his larger ones ardently seek out yours like a dog going after a bone. The rough texture of his digits feels like an uncomfortably pleasant caress as they lace together with your own. He doesn’t look at anything else; can’t think of anything else when you make the cutest little watery gasp as his cock humps along the crack of your hole. The red tip of it gets caught against your outer sweet spot as if trying to give your crotch small pecks. His eye wrinkles crinkle when his smile widens and he offers a breathy laugh. 

He squeezes your hands tightly as he wraps a hand around his cock and directs it to its northern star. Your nails digging into his knuckles don’t distract from your hole stretching itself wide to suckle at his encroaching length. 

And if in the shower he spilled into his feverishly fucked fists at the concept of crimson liquid mixing with cum to make a pink swirl where your bodies meet, you’d never know. He thumbed at the glans under his cock tip as he came down from his high, skirting a fingernail up a vein on the side and wishing he was mouthing the space between your shoulder blades; preening your white feathers with his scratchy tongue. 

The next couple days were gone with a couple of blinks. He never deviated from his routine; wake up, wipe off the drool on his face, get kids ready and take them to school, go to work, clean up, go pick kids up from school, help with whatever work 6 year olds would have, put them to bed, jerk off in the shower till his legs ache, fall asleep on his stomach with his the right side of his face smushed into a pillow. 

He did find some time to put together a teacher’s appreciation basket for you. You more than anyone else deserved a few something somethings on a day meant to represent love. The gifts were packed nicely and neatly in a vintage wicker basket wrapped in a red gingham bow and covered in see through red plastic wrap. Your reaction would regrettably have to be viewed from afar, but he’d know how to move forward depending on what adorable expression you had all over your face.

The night before the party, Anakin allowed Luke and Leia to stay up a smidge later than normal so that they could get all of their things ready for the party. Anakin’s special present slept soundly in the seat next to his in front of his truck. An additional gift from Luke was tucked inside along with an item from Leia who had insisted on it when she found out Luke was getting you something.. The basket being hidden away for the time being allowed him to focus completely on helping his children with their gifts at the coffee table. 

Luke’s eyes were droopy as he wrote down the names of his classmates in the hearts made to look like Spiderman’s mask in his cards. He inserted  most of the pencils in the intended slot on the left of the cards by himself before he slumped against Anakin’s arm and weakly pushed the pile of cards towards his dad. Anakin chuckled as he ruffled Luke’s fluffy blonde hair and teasingly whispered that he didn’t know a boy could be so sleepy. His son blinked at him as if to say how unfunny his dad was before yawning and snuggling further into his father. 

Anakin pushed the rest of the pencils into the card slots and sealed all of the cards with red heart stickers. He lifted his head to look across the glass coffee table to check in on how Leia was doing. For how fiery his daughter was already at such a young age, she wasn’t immune to getting tired before 8:30. The signature buns on her head that she loved begging him  to do for her had loose hairs poking out of them because of how Leia had buried her head in her arms. 

Anakin blew a breath out in fond chagrin as he easily reached over the table and delicately removed the pins holding the buns in place. He fluffed out the hair that fell down so her scalp wouldn’t feel weird when she woke up. 

He hoisted Luke up in one arm and Leia in the other (something they were getting a bit too big to continue doing) and slowly but surely deposited them on the couch. He snatched a white plush blanket from the linen closet and settled it over them before turning back to the massive amount of paper cards on the table. He finished the last of Leia’s cards a short while later. He sorted the cards into orderly piles and put them in sandwich bags that he took to the kids room so he could put the bags in their backpacks. 

Anakin came back to the living room as he tried to shoo the sleep away by digging his knuckles into his eye sockets in a lazy rub. He opened the cabinet and took out a package of pink frosted sugar cookies with red heart shaped sprinkles, a pack of capri suns, and a tupperware bowl full of mini brownies. With a long drawn out yawn he set the snacks out on the counter so that he would remember them tomorrow morning. He got a set of paper plates and a sectioned set of cutlery in case you needed any extra. Maybe you’d give him one of those corny gold star stickers as a thank you. 

Friday morning was ushered in by  two children risking their dad’s life by flopping on his stomach with all the strength they had while he was sleeping. 

“OH FU-“ He shouted before he remembered who was in the room and gently rolled them off of his stomach. “What exactly do you two think you’re doing?”

 "It's time to wake up dad, we're gonna be late for school!" Leia said with a dismayed look on her somewhat chubby face. 

Anakin looked away and meekly mouthed a 'sorry' as he looked at the led clock that he had forgotten to set an alarm on. 

Fuck, not again. 

He sat up in bed and hunched over; his head buried in his hands. Luke and Leia crowded around him as they tried their best to comfort their father, giving his back light pats. He let them pull his hair so that he'd look up at them. He smiled in gratitude and crawled out of bed as quickly as he could to get the day started. 

He made a comical sight; hobbling around the floor with his ripped jeans pooled around his feet as he raced to get his kids ready for school in time. His belt was a fairly new black leather piece that he'd been keeping for a special occasion, but the anxiety of the morning made him grapple with getting the buckle in place. Once that was done a shameful amount of time later, he shoved his clothes to the side in his closet as he searched for a nicer, more "classy" dress shirt. Anakin gnawed at his bottom lip and eventually decided on a black silk button up that matched his belt. He crouched, chanting in his head that he hoped he wouldn't tear a muscle, and chose a pair of italian leather slides that his mom had gotten him for Father's Day a couple of years ago. The bathroom mirror held back no punches when it showed Anakin the state of his head. He crossed his fingers and smoothed back his hair with the tiniest glob of gel; the water he splashed on his face would have to do some serious charity work. He could only hope that you liked the naturally unkempt but not too unkempt kind of look, a striking sort of ruggedness. 

"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad..." Luke droned, understandably fed up with waiting on his dad to deal with another one of his mini mid life crisis episodes. 

"I'll be right there Luke, hold on a second, please."

Anakin gave into his son’s begging and let him brush his teeth with the birthday cake flavored toothpaste today. Even though the dentist moaned about how hard it was to clean out when they introduced it to Luke at his last appointment. His Spiderman toothbrush played a jingle meant to sound like the theme song when Luke did his 2 minutes of brushing. Anakin stood protectively behind him as he spit in the sink, his hand hovered over his head so he wouldn't hit it. He took Luke's toothbrush and ran it under the water before he put it back in the clear organizer next to the faucet. He poured the recommended amount of mouthwash from the bottle and passed the lid that acted as the cup to Luke. Luke grimaced but he tipped the cup up so the blue liquid would pour in his mouth, he swished it around and then spat it out too. He sipped from the glass of water that was handed to him and proudly beamed at his father.

"Good job, Luke. I'm so proud of you." Anakin congratulated him, Luke was still finicky about floss so today would not be the day that he attempted to get him to use it. 

Being a parent means knowing how to pick your battles and what time to schedule them. 

Anakin brushed Luke's hair and fluffed it out a bit like a surfer (how Luke likes it). He grabbed his son by his underarms and lifted him off of the step stool. The mirrors in their house were still a bit too high for his kids to see properly so for now the stools had a purpose. He would be sad when they no longer needed them. 

Anakin quickly dipped into the twins room to grab their backpacks. He had already gotten them dressed after he got out of bed earlier. He helped Luke put his on and then repeated the same process with Leia. Her toothbrush made a loud roar when she finished brushing, and she had a fit of giggles in response. His daughter preferred straightforward mint toothpaste so morning routines really weren't that much of a struggle with her. Once she put the glass of water down on the sink, she eagerly turned her back to her dad and pointed at her loose hair. Anakin saluted as he began shaping her hair into the buns she loves so much. He reminded her not to mess with them too much or they'd fall apart, and she always responded that she knew that already. 

They got in a single file line on their mission out the door. Anakin nabbed the containers of snacks and briefly freaked out wondering if he lost the cards before he remembered that they were in the kids' backpacks. He double checked if his keys and wallet were in his pockets, and to his relief everything was where it was supposed to be.

Well, mostly everything. He'd never forget about you, don't worry. 

He put his phone on do not disturb before tossing in the front seat next to his along with the basket already sitting there. 

Anakin told Luke and Leia to buckle their seatbelts as he inserted his key into the keyhole and started the car. He heard them buckle up and waited for the tell tale clicks before putting his car into drive. They had to leave than some of the other kids in their school would have to since they lived farther away, but because it was so early the twins could only yawn and hold onto the other twins' booster seat. Anakin thanked the cosmos and turned the radio on but kept it a low volume; Frank Sinatra's rich voice was the best company on a drive like this. 

The school entrance was abundantly decorated. A large white banner along the front entry archway announced the festivities. A flurry of red, pink, and white ribbons hung across the ceiling of the lobby. Every door had hearts representing the students in their class covering them, the kids's names scrawled in their own messy handwriting with cheap crayons. 

The door of your classroom was the last one on the left. You kept a bottle of hand sanitizer in front of it because you were very particular about hygiene, a trait that served you extremely well in your job. Luke and Leia pointed out where on the door their hearts were as they waited for you to open the door. The Skywalker family were the first ones there so Anakin wasn't sure if it was okay to just drop in on you unannounced. He wished that you would drop on him unannounced. He cradled his gift basket  in his arms as if it were a fragile baby.  

A few minutes later, your heels were heard clacking against the tile floor. The silver door knob jiggled before it stopped moving and the door took its sweet sweet time opening. Your head poked out and your face brightened when you saw who was at the other end. You sunk down into a squat, putting your hands on your knees as you addressed the children. 

"Why, hello Leia; hello to you too Luke. You're a tad early, but you can go ahead and hang your backpacks on the hooks in your cubbies. I haven't finished setting everything up, so you can sit down on any of those chairs at the front of the class." You greeted them and shook their hands before pointing out where they could sit. 

The twins obviously sat together. You didn't have assigned seating in your class, and you felt that Leia and Luke would be more comfortable sitting together during their first year at school. It wasn't guaranteed that they'd be in the same class next year. You were too sensitive to try to separate them. You cried a lot because of how scary school was when you were in their place, so you couldn't imagine being the cause for any tears your students shed.

Anakin was once again too caught up in studying your outfit. You had on a fitted shirt with a cardigan on top, it had thin strings that could unwind with no effort from him if he reached out and just pulled.

But that could wait. 

The kids scattered off to choose their seats. Your classroom had three circular tables with five small red chairs. Each chair had a small blanket on the back with a valentine's pattern. The table at the front where Luke and Leia were sitting had heart shaped placemats with a lace trim that looked like it should've been a doily, but in a… good way. You had red and pink plates on the smaller table next to your desk, as well as clear forks and spoons that looked like they had confetti inside of them. You figured that the parents would bring all of the refreshments and you didn't know what your students would want; you thought that the safest bet would be to hang back. 

Anakin did the most he could to soften his gaze when you straightened up and automatically locked eyes with the older man. He clocked how you instantly glanced down at the floor for a split second. You adjusted your collar, for some reason, and gave him the world’s smallest smile. Anakin was so certain that if he leaned in close enough, he would be able to hear your heart racing at the same accelerated pace as his.

 Some say that means it’s love. 

You fluttered your eyelashes, “Hi, Mr. Skywalker, thank you for coming. It’s always a pleasure to see Luke and Leia, but i’m glad that you could be here for them”

“Believe me, no one’s more happy about me being here than I am.” He blurted out without thinking, ‘Uh, I brought some snacks and drinks for everybody.”

You took in the capri suns and the desserts as your smile grew. Your hand curled around his bicep subconsciously, “Oh my gosh, that’s so nice of you! I’ll just put those over the-“ 

You couldn’t even finish your sentence before Anakin sauntered past you to put the food down on the table next to your desk. He placed the frosted sugar cookies down first, followed by the capri suns and brownies. 

He turned to face you and his shirt seemed to tighten over his chest as he rested his hands on his hips. His fingers flexed absentmindedly, like they wished they were gripping something else. 

“I can handle it, sweetheart. I’m 42, not 72.”  He chided you, strolling back over and chucking you under the chin; you were cute if you thought you’d be lifting a single finger the entire day. 

The way you nearly fell head over heels trying to fix your assumed faux paus was even cuter, “No, no- I- I didn’t mean anything- I just- Y-you look very capable to me, sir.” 

If your brain would let you, you would rip your face off to hide from your big mouth. Why the hell would you tell the much older father of two of your students that you think he looks “very capable”? WHAT POSSESSED YOU TO CALL HIM “SIR”? 

Anakin scratched his chin and decided that he’d let you off the hook with no more teasing from him. That’s a lie though, he was confident that you could take whatever he gave you. 

“Careful, don’t stroke my ego too much or I'll have to stroke yours. And please, I'd hate to have to remind you again, my name’s Anakin.” He was flirting a little too shamelessly for where you were, but he was still thinking with his upstairs head and guided you to a back corner. 

“I actually got you something myself, but uh,  if it’s all the same to you, I'd wait to open it until you’re nice and snug at home.” 

He gladly took a short walk to your car with you and helped you set the basket down safely in the trunk. He told you to stand back as he slammed the trunk door shut; slapping it for good measure to make sure it was properly closed. 

The two of you returned to your classroom and like the good little helper Anakin wanted you to know he could be, he helped you greet the incoming parents and students. He even took any concessions they brought and put them with the others

By 8:15 everyone you expected was in your classroom. A few kids were without their parents so you asked some of the other students to invite them to enjoy the party; a party’s no fun alone. 

At some point around 9:00 you had the stray daydream of Anakin pinning you against the wall outside of your door as he savagely plundered your mouth with his teeth and tongue. Finger shaped bruises and a promise to ‘see you at home, baby’ would keep your usually freezing cold body warm. You glance at the man out of the corner of your eye to see that he was already staring. He looked like he wanted to teach you a lot of things.

Whatever that meant. 

The morning half of the day consisted of the cafeteria delivering breakfast and watching a couple of movies that the class voted on. The Lego Batman Movie was first (a unanimous decision), and Wreck-it-Ralph was picked after that (some kids wanted to watch the minion movie like always but you were secretly happy that they weren’t the majority.) 

Lunchtime was when you decided to let the students have the snacks, they were welcome to go down to the cafeteria with a guardian if they wanted actual food but they didn’t have to. You weren’t surprised when none of the seats became empty. 

Anakin had to wrench the small plastic chair away from his ass before he winked charmingly and speed walked to the snack table to help you. The air between the both of you had inexplicably become charged with insurmountable tension. The chaos didn’t give you much chatting time so you could only glances and brush your arms together; how accidental those touches were was up for debate. 

Especially when he needed to get through to the plates and forks behind you. 

“Sorry, let me just squeeze past you.” He whispered in your ear, his big hands using your waist to steady you as he pressed his back flush against your chest. 

In the blink of an eye he was gone. The invisible hands chained to your skin remained. You fanned your face with one of the cheap paper plates as you floated back to your body and got a hold of yourself.  

You looked over at the Skywalker trio to see Luke and Leia point at you as they tirelessly tug on their dads sleeves until he caved. You saved him the trouble and went to them, bending down so you could hear the twins properly.

“Do you two need something? I could see you making a fuss over here.” You teased. 

“Dad forgot to give you our presents….” Leia mumbled and Luke nodded sharply. 

Your eyes widened, “Oh! You didn’t have to get me anything, but the day’s not over yet. You can give them to me now.”

“I did not forget, Leia.” Anakin shook his head, fidgeting in the uncomfortable chair. “They’re in the basket Dad brought, and your teacher has it in her car outside, okay?” 

You nodded and confirmed their fathers words, “He’s right. I didn’t know that there were things from you and your brother in it too but it’s safe and sound. I pinky swear.” 

Two much smaller pinkies met you halfway and wrapped around yours. The Skywalker twins giggled as they turned it into an impromptu arm wrestle competition and beat you easily. (You felt they were going to snap your finger off if they kept tightening their hold so you bowed out.) 

Anakin watched with hearts in his eyes and his head propped up in his hand, his eyes crinkled at the inherent domesticity of the act. 

Luke and Leia agreed to call their exhibition match a draw. 

The sun had already set by the time you got home. You were so tired that you nearly dropped your keys down the stairwell; you didn’t want to spend your night fishing them out of the grass.The wicker basket in your arms was at risk of falling too but you got your door opened and you crumpled on the loveseat.

 “Oof, I should probably get this sorted out now or I'll just forget about it.” You said as your body protested you moving a single inch from your sunken spot. 

You grabbed your emerald green pair of scissors and cut the top of the plastic wrap off.The wrapping  squealed as you tore it off the rest of the basket. You peered into it and thankfully it looked like a run of the mill teacher’s appreciation gift; for a valentine’s day it was a little strange but since it was from Anakin… you’d slip on your rose colored glasses. 

There was a medium sized teddy bear, a couple three wick candles; your favorite was the one that smelled like the conversation hearts candy. There was also a custom made box of chocolates from the bakery you frequented, and three burgundy roses that you trimmed properly before dropping them in the vase on your kitchen island. 

The ‘world’s best teacher’ stood out like a sore thumb but it made you smile anyway. 

The teddy bear was incredibly fluffy and bubblegum pink; it’s holding a sparkly red heart with the word ‘princess’ sewed in hot pink thread in the center. You swept the fur away from its black eyes so it could see. The bear was pretty cute, and you had a problem handling your stuffed animal addiction, so you headed to your bedroom and laid it down with the rest of your plushies. 

You yawned and your mouth stretched like a goldfish when it does the same thing. The strings of your red cardigan came undone by your hands and you let it slide off of you and hit the floor. Your pink ribbed top joined it when you gathered enough energy to give a damn and move your arms. 

Your white bra was so plain but like hell if it didn’t make the man palming himself over his jeans rock hard. The kids were sound asleep in bed and the walls were thick so he could be as loud as he wanted. But this particular session wasn’t about achieving some grand climax. No. He just wanted to take things slow tonight. If he happened to gradually tumble over the edge along the way, he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Anakin loved you, every inch of your body would soon be blissfully aware of that. 

The miniscule camera in the dot above the i in Princess loved you just as much. 

The fire that would wait to invite itself in for a surprise visit until you had left for work loved you more. 

a/n: i had this in the drafts for a bit but i was having a moment so i didn’t post it until now. happy valentine's day 💞

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Oh nothing just thinking about how if Jayce's storyline had given him a traditional heroic ending it would have been unspeakably tragic for all three of Jayce, Viktor and Mel.

Like I think for the uncomplicated heroic ending to work, Jayce would have left the astral plane when Viktor said, "You must go, Jayce." Jayce did what I think Mage Viktor asked him to do--save the world and himself (Jayce) from Viktor. Main timeline Viktor realized the horror of what he'd done and he had the means (the runestone that Jayce gave back to him) to stop his own runaway magic from destroying the world, and I think he realizes that taking himself out of the equation is part of the whole deal. So in the heroic version of this story, Viktor accepts his comeuppance for going full villain and is willing to die/become one with the arcane/get sucked into a magic rock/get spat out in another timeline somewhere/otherwise exit the narrative in order to make it right. Jayce lives, a hero.

And that ending would have been fucking horrifying. Viktor dies (?) or otherwise does what he has to do, and at the end of it all he's alone. Just as he always feared.

Jayce lives and no matter how many times he says that he didn't defeat Viktor, Viktor chose to stop himself, Jayce gets lauded as the savior of Piltover. How fucking unbearable. And after every fucking thing he went through in the whole damn series, he loses Viktor anyway.

In this version of events I can very much see Jayce clinging to Mel, because who else can come close to understanding his experience? She too made a bargain she never wanted to make, trading the life of someone she loved for victory. And I think it's pretty likely that Jayce would follow Mel to Noxus simply because staying in Piltover is agony. But then he's alone in Noxus, where backstabbing politics is the national pastime, and the only person he has for support is dealing with enormous new stressors of her own. Maybe in better circumstances he could be perfectly happy being her emotional support trophy husband, but that guy is a fucking wreck; he lost everything, and I can see these circumstances just imploding what could otherwise have been a very grounding and healing relationship for both of them. Because both of them are emotionally intelligent enough to know the other is hurting and both of them are in positions where they need more support than the other can give. Worst circumstances to try to build a lasting relationship possible. Mel going back to Noxus alone is bittersweet but this would have been so much worse.

I think this is why their canon ending doesn't feel tragic to me even if you think Jayce and Viktor really died, instead of getting spat out into another timeline or something. Besties that was the good ending.

[yanderes-galore]

Heyyyy can I request romanticly Lloyd Garmadon×reader, Prompts 1 and 4 because I can really see Lloyd also being an yandere who would sacrifice the world for their darlin

I didn't realize how much trauma Lloyd went through until I watched a video on it... Oml man is NOT okay.....

Yandere! Lloyd Garmadon Prompts 1 + 4

"I'd burn this world and everything in it for you."

"My heart belongs to you, I'll adore anything you do to it."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Possessive behavior, Unhealthy coping mechanisms/attachment, Threats, Clingy behavior, Kidnapping, Attachment issues, Dubious turned forced relationship.

The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth

Lloyd has never experienced proper love. Lloyd hasn't even experienced a proper childhood. He was instead forced to take the mantle of hero at a young age... forced to fight evils no normal person should face...

Of course he wasn't going to be okay.

Lloyd's biggest fear is becoming like his father. He knows he's done horrible things in the past and he still can't forgive himself. He's witnessed many he's cared about die... He's watched himself harm others.

So, of course, the moment he feels anything positive... It's normal to latch on, right?

When Lloyd met you, he was hesitant to get attached. He's so used to being used or watching those he cares about get hurt.... The moment you're kind he panics a bit.

But over time... Your kindness feels genuine.

It's the one thing he's always wanted... Genuine love.

Love to someone who has never had it is an addicting thing. It's such a foreign yet familiar thing to him. Yours is so warm and sweet.

However... The problem with addiction is this...

Addicts will do anything to get another hit.

Lloyd's attachment to you was because you paid attention to him. You saw past his heroic acts... and his not so heroic acts.... Lloyd felt you saw him for himself.

Unfortunately... It didn't seem like you were ready for his strengthening attachment.

You saw Lloyd as a friend. Maybe even a sibling due to what he's gone through. You wanted to comfort him... support him...

But it seems you were just making him worse....

To Lloyd, it didn't matter what happened to him or anyone else when it came to you. As he was around you, he found himself unable to be away from you. Even when you asked for distance... He was unable to give it.

Why would you want distance anyways...? Is he not good enough? Does he scare you? Are you going to leave him?

He'd do anything to prevent that.

The moment you try to drift away or distance yourself, Lloyd just tugs you back. He's never far from you. He's always dedicated... scared you'll leave if he doesn't.

"My heart belongs to you, I'll adore anything you do to it."

He says such words like a prayer to you. Like it's a promise he'd come back no matter what you did. You were not a fool to his feelings... You just knew you could never reciprocate them.

He'd never stop loving you though.

It didn't matter how you loved him. Lloyd would always love you. As long as you give him attention, as long as you look at him, he'll take anything.

He'll be forever loyal...

He'll sacrifice anything...

As long as you're there to hold him. As long as you won't ever leave. As long as you're his...

He could care less how you see him... and he could care less if the world suffers for it at this point.

Lloyd may be a hero. However, to him, you always come first. Lloyd doesn't know what he'd do without you.

He'd sacrifice anything and everything if it meant you'd be all his. He'd cling to you even more if it meant he'd secure you. It didn't matter what it took...

"I'd burn this world and everything in it for you." Lloyd had said that to you to show you his desperation. You had suggested to take a break from one another, to be away from each other. The implication hurt...

Yet Lloyd was willing to wait as long as it took... and sacrifice everything... just to keep you to himself one way or another.

Sure, you can have some space for now... but he'll always be back by your side eventually.

Doesn't he deserve something good for once? Doesn't he deserve to be selfish? He's been forced to be hero for so long....

Lloyd's biggest fear is no longer becoming his father. His biggest fear is being alone. When you threaten to put distance between you and him...

Suddenly... being a bit of a villain doesn't seem so bad... Maybe he should just... drag you to be beside him forever...

As long as it means he's never alone... maybe he should give into his villainous roots.

[ikeubi]

i bet on losing dogs 🕷 jake sim

📰 t͟h͟e͟ ͟o͟n͟e͟ ͟t͟i͟m͟e͟ ͟j͟a͟k͟e͟ ͟f͟a͟i͟l͟e͟d͟ ͟t͟o͟ ͟s͟a͟v͟e͟ ͟y͟o͟u͟.͟ spiderman!jake 𝔁 fem!reader  ╱ inspired by gwen's fall in tasm ; major angst, (descriptions of) character death, and overall the regular mcu warnings

Jake Sim never turns his back on a promise he's made.

When you first found out he was New York City's Spider-Man, he swore to you that he'd keep you safe from the dangers that came with being associated with his masked persona.

Out of all the promises he's made, that was the very last one he wanted to break.

Yet here he was.

The masked boy was high on adrenaline as he chased after the villain Goblin among the multitude of buildings in the city.

His energy was beginning to wear off until Goblin tilted his glider to the side for the shortest bit of time, which was more than enough for Jake to catch your hair peeking out along with the look of horror seen in your eyes as the villain's gloved hand kept you from screaming.

The vigilante swung past the buildings faster and faster.

One building.

Another.

And another.

This went on until his enemy maneuvered his glider to the top of a clock tower, Jake making his way up with great speed.

For whatever reason it may be, the Goblin just hovered merely a foot away from the masked hero's spot on the tower, his metallic green mask covering the glances he took at the overly daunting, deep inside of the structure.

Jake eyed his movements nervously and with hesitation, his gaze going back and fourth between you and the villain.

You felt the hand clasped against your mouth move to cup your cheeks as the man's laughter boomed.

"What are you waiting for, spider boy?" you heard him taunt as he moved your face from side to side.

Your gut filled with dread about what the Goblin had up his sleeve and shifted your gaze to the hero clad in red and blue.

Jake seemed to be sensing that something about to happen was even worse than the present situation as he shifted to a more alert position, eyebrows furrowed behind his mask.

"Come and get her," he continued before swiftly pushing you off his glider.

Jake's eyes widened as he immediately followed your trajectory into the tall clock tower. "No!" he screamed as the Goblin's menacing laughter echoed through the nearly hollow space.

Jake despises how time painfully slowed down in these moments. Your last moments.

He hated how everything was clearer, how he could focus on the horror displayed on your face and the tears falling from your eyes for a seemingly longer period of time as you plummeted through the tower.

But he could save you, right? He's done it a few times before, and not once has he failed. What makes this life and death situation any more different?

You wanted him to save you. But time wasn't in your favor, nor did it slow down. You didn't have the pleasure of thinking positively and only of what was overt. And you were quite sure of one thing.

Jake Sim couldn't save you this time.

Death never scared you. The only thing that did was the thought of no longer being able to have dreams for your future with Jake, as well as being able to live them.

You didn't want to start fearing the pain. And so you closed your eyes for just a moment, and thought.

You once heard that when you die, the brain stays active for a final ten minutes, letting you relive the most memorable moments of your life. It brought you comfort thinking that you'd get to see Jake smile for a final time, because it wasn't just a hunch──you knew that those last ten minutes would be a period of time that the boy you loved purely consumed.

And so you opened your eyes.

The wind whistled past your ear, and you had a feeling that sooner or later, you'd be reaching the bottom of the building.

You sent one last painful smile towards your masked lover and mouthed the words you knew he would need to hear.

It's okay. I love you.

Jake's eyes pricked with tears as he read the words coming from your lips.

Realizing his pace wasn't going to meet yours soon enough for him to use his arms to save you, he extended his web shooter wielding arm and prayed as he pushed his middle and ring fingers down on the button and as the web formula shot out and clung to your sweater.

Time returned back to its normal speed. Jake thought he saved you and subconsciously smiled to himself.

That was until he heard it.

Crack.

Jake's face dropped as he watched your body go limp under his web, mere inches away from the ground.

His hands trembled while he pulled the white string back to hold you in his arms as he landed on the ground.

He quickly took the mask off his head and scanned your face for the slightest of twitches, searching for a sign that you were still alive.

"Y/n," his voice trembled as he shifted on his knees, hand pushing your hair back before using two fingers to check the pulse on your neck.

"No," he muttered to himself after a few seconds, unable to find a pulse.

Teary eyed and refusing to give up, he reached for your wrist to try and see if he could feel the pumping of blood from there.

Still none.

Other wrist.

None.

Chest.

None.

Maybe he can check your breathing?

No. None.

Stop.

Jake pulled back slowly after it sunk in that you really weren't breathing, that you really didn't have a pulse, and that he was really unable to save you.

His eyes rimmed with tears as he watched the color drain from your face against the deafening silence of the night's aftermath.

"No," he shook his head before shaking your figure.

"Y/n, wake up,"

"Come on,"

"No you're not dead. You're not,"

A cycle of words of denial continued until the dam finally broke and his tears rolled down continuously.

His sobs echoed through the clock tower. He couldn't let any more words out. His chest hurt and so did his throat.

As he broke down for possibly the first time in his life, the only thing he could think to do was hug your figure.

He stayed like that until dusk turned to dawn.

You were the one person Jake would've traded the world for just to keep alive.

And he'd never forgive himself or never forget how he kept the world safe in return for your life.

꒰ᵕ༚ᵕ⑅꒱ mail !

i may have gotten a little angst crazy with this one.....but i still hope it was good! writing this hurt a little though, lowkey :(.

© ikeubi 2024 ✿ do not steal, copy, plagiarize, or translate a̲n̲y̲ of my work!

[npookie0]

Mourning Star.

Summary: A writer who dreams of becoming world wide known, and a serial killer who's not going to let the writer die under their overachieving nature.

Maybe it's time for you to listen to the devil on your shoulder?

Trigger/content warnings: Showcase of obsession over something, overachieving, workaholism, unhealthy behaviour.

"No, it's not right. It won't sell." You said, scrapping the ten thousands words you've just written.

Being an aspiring writer was tough, you had to spend hours, days and weeks, writing something to catch people's attention, to hear praise and feel love. You yearned for your readers' validation, for positive reviews. Because what writer are you without satisfied reader? None. You're a failure, someone who should leave writing for someone who actually can do it well.

You had many thoughts about quitting, you were ready to drop your passion because of the lack of attention. You were screaming at yourself, dolving deeper into the self hate spiral.

Luckily, before you could actually quit, your desperation to write something great, led you into the scary embrace of the dark web. With the risk of getting doxxed, murdered, kidnapped or something even worse, you were researching the ways of murderers, trying to find inspiration for your very own perfect murderer protagonist. During one of these searchings, someone messaged you, sent you a strange invite and that's how it all started.

After half a year spent in The Slaughterhouse, you've came out with one successful book, friends... and a boyfriend.

The Butcher.

Or just simply Ronin, goreboy, the server's big man.

Not only was he your partner, he was also your muse, the sole reason for your book to be such a big hit.

In all of his devilish act, you found comfort, love, and a desire to keep on. He fueled you, made you want to write and fill more pages in your writing program with words.

Yet, no matter how much inspiration Ronin gave you, you felt like nothing could even come close to your first book. It all felt empty, unpolished, not good enough.

Your readers must've felt the same with how little of them were interacting with you, hardly anyone asked you about the reasons and inspiration for your book, there were less and less new reviews coming in.

Was it... the end for you? Were you only good enough for one story?

These thoughts were like parasites eating your mind from inside out. They kept you seated in front of your computer, writing so much that your fingers ache, and your eyes barely functioned properly.

Writing felt both like blessing, and a curse. You loved it, sure, but you also felt like you would just throw up every time you sat down in front of your computer. Burn out was catching to you quicker than you anticipated, but you had to push through. If you wanted your name to mean anything for the whole world, you have to keep on, even at the cost of your own health.

Ronin was there, in the background. Always watching as the life in your eye slowly slipped away. He had to physically push you out of your trance, carry you away from your computer or who knows how he'd find you if he let you be?

He was used to your shouts and sobs, he was used to seeing the absolute destruction you were bringing upon yourself. Ronin wanted to step in, play the hero, but he had to wait. He had to wait for you to snap, to break down, so he can collect the pieces for you. Ronin knows you too well, no one will get through to you until your body has already sank too deep into the misery of your own mind.

For the past three weeks, Ronin was watching over how active you were, or rather how little you were showing up in the server. It's like you were cutting everyone off, he sighed to himself.

"Tsk, tsk, darling. What will you do without your shoulder devil." He murmured to himself, standing in front of your house.

He lazily walked towards the front door, not even knocking as he pushed them open, you never locked your house, too lost in your little writing slump.

He didn't need to look far, you were in the exact same place you were every time he visited. In your small writing room.

You were curled up on the floor, your hands griping your hair as you were mumbling something. As Ronin looked at your face, he saw panic in your eyes.

Panic over your career.

"I'm nothing. I'm no one..." These words left your mouth, repeated like a mantra.

Ronin took a step closer, this was a mistake on his part.

Once you registered that someone entered your sacred space, and realised that it was him, your stood up. Your gaze full of horror, but not of him. No. You would be never afraid of Ronin. You were afraid of him taking you away from this room, telling you to rest and eat again, while your career was in shambled already.

"Don't- don't come any closer!" You shouted at him. "Stay where you are, you can't take this from me Ronin... Please... Not now, I'm not done yet." Your tone changed from panicked shouting to pleading.

You were a mess. A mess of a writer who needs to be praised or they'll choke on the self hate.

Ronin raised his arms up, this movement was a little too sudden for your liking - you took the glass of water that stood on your desk for a week now, and threw it at Ronin, it flew past him, smashing against your wall.

Weak, distressed, exhausted, you fell on your knees, your head in your hands.

"Ronin I have to be known! Where is my fucking praise? What's... what's so bad in my writing? Am I not the perfect writer?" You looked at him, your gaze hungry for praise, a twisted smile on your lips.

The thing you were going through, it was hard to describe. Any other person would call you a freak and leave, but not Ronin, no. He saw that you were moving towards the edge of your own sanity, one small push and he could've find you dead on his next visit, the thought not as exciting as people would think that he would take it as.

"Oh darling" He spoke up, as he walked up to you and crouched in front of you. "Your writing is perfection, you and I both know it."

His words were soft, people would think that he's praising you now, and maybe he actually was. At least until he suddenly grabbed you by your neck and pulled you closer to him.

"But to create art you should be alive, unless you want to be known as someone who died because they couldn't finish more than one book." He whispered, Ronin' gaze challenging, mocking, with a tinge of affection and care hidden under this facade.

Your eyes widened. You started to shake your head hysterically.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no... please no..." Tears fell down your face. "Ronin no, please I have to live, I have to write, I have to be known, I have to-"

"Hah, you're so exhausted you can't even finish a sentence." Ronin said after you unconscious body fell into his arms. "Don't worry my writer darling, I won't let you burn away so fast, there's still so much you have to do."

The Devil kissed your temple, a promise to keep you alive, to never let you rot. You're a star, you have to shine brightly for the whole world to see.

Hey readers!

Reminder than I can cook you up some sweet sweet commissions (also nsfw ;3)

Check out my Ko-Fi (link in bio)

Bye bye <3

[brianlesshetaliawritings]

Can you do yandere canada and russia after they stop their darling from escape with a bit of violence like broken bone? Like how they treat y/n after that

Yandere Canada and Russia after breaking his darling's leg. (to stop them escaping)

would it be bad to say im excited to write this? idk. i got to thinking and decided i'll go with a broken leg if ya don't mind, sorry. also, sorry again for taking so long. and also like, sorry if this sucks ass??.. i didnt pass writing class if you can tell. but uhh.. ya, this is probably really bad so im sorry. :( another note: I JUST FUCKING REALIZED THAT THIS WAS PROBABLY A REQUEST FOR AFTERWARDS OH MY GOD IM STUPID I WAS GONNA WRITE THE WHOLE PROCESS AND SHIT😭 I NEVER READ SHIT ALL THE WAY ISTG

tw: violence, broken bones, abuse, force feeding, similar stuff

!! yandere content. if you can't handle any behavior possibly seen in a yandere please don't read this. !! (example; obsessive, stalkery, possessive, violent, or generally horrid behaviour.)

Canada

Canada honestly hated having to do this, but he really felt like he had to. That and he was just really pissed. Like a lot. Like screaming, hitting, and punching type pissed. But, again, doesn't like seeing you hurt.

After he absolutely destroyed your lower calf and beat you for a while he spent a minute staring at you, a bit in a daze, until eventually suddenly snapping out it and quickly bringing you home to properly care for the damage he has afflicted upon you.

He was way gentle afterwards, bandaging and disinfecting the wounds with much care and as thuroughly as possible. Though, it was clear he wasn't just going to let this off the hook with the way he decided to directly tie you to a hook on the wall, with very little wiggle room and no way to move more than maybe a foot.

Your progress in all the freedom you acquired was not only reset, but even worse than where you first got here. It's uncomfortable, even with the pilow he provided you. You're no longer allowed to have your hands free in general, and he has to feed you instead of letting you do it yourself. When you need to use the restroom you have two minutes in there until he starts asking what you're doing in there.

It wasn't really all that painful though outside of the ache of the previous abuse he made you endure. That and the occasional ache from the limitted positions you have at your disposal, don't worry though. Every three days he'll switch your spot so you'll at the very least have a different view to look at. In general, he isn't the worst to have, but definitely not the quickest to forget. You'll be stuck doing this for another month or two before he even considers giving you the slightest of freedoms.

Russia

Ivan is not nearly as lenient as Canada. Hell, after he beats the life out of you, probably breaking more than just your leg, he decides to lock you up in the basement—the cold, empty basement. He drags you to the stairs, shoves you down, and locks the door before ditching you for the next day or so.

Eventually, though, he returns, purely to ensure you don't die. You've been bad, but he'd never want you dead. It would be a lonely world without you by his side. His hands roughly push you around as he wraps you up in bandages and drenches your wounds, rubbing the stuff off with a washcloth afterward. He forces you to be tied up in a position where the majority of your bones will heal correctly, besides the leg. If the leg is messed up, that'll make any future attempts all the harder for you, which is what he wants.

Once he's done with that, it'll be another two days. No food, no water, no warmth, no him. Just sitting in the basement without pain medicine, starving, perhaps freezing, as he does nothing to help you with frostbite or hypothermia. Though, as expected, he returns yet again, and this time with food. The force-feeding will be rough, and you'll likely choke a couple of times, but honestly, it's better than you having been starving earlier.

This will be your life for two or so weeks, rotting in the basement, with your only human interaction being when you need to eat or maybe even for the restroom. The good news, though, is that Russia isn't a very patient man. Even if he's frustrated, he misses you a lot. So you'll be freed rather quickly compared to Canada, funny enough. Or at least, freed from the basement, that is.

Don't take this as him forgetting, though. Oh no, he remembers. You're only this lucky because he loves you, okay? You'll never know any of the freedoms you might've had in the past, and you're pretty much stuck with being tied or trapped for the rest of your miserable life. The only thing that'll really change is just the quality of how he'll treat you, the comfort in which you'll be provided, and your setting. So have fun, dear reader, and good luck. You'll need it.

[feelo-fick]

Au where eating the demons desire makes Laios immortal

Demons Curse

—

WHYYYYY WHY WOULD YOU SAY THIS TO MEEEEEEE WHYYYY SNIFF SNIFF IM SO SAD. IMS O SAD. I DREW THIS WHILE FALLING APART AT THE SEAMS. uaogh okay let me get my thoughts out about this

i originally was sorta happy in a bittersweet way cause i thought, well at least marcille has company, they have eachother to lean on now!

...but then i realized marcille isnt immortal. shes gonna live LONG, but shes not immortal. AND I GOT SO EXTREMELY SAD

can you imagine, trying to convince your friend not to extend everyones lifespans to a scarily long degree. and then having to help her deal with that fear and grief of losing her loved ones. AND THEN REALIZING YOURE IMMORTAL AND OUTLIVING ALL OF YOUR LOVED ONES INCLUDING HER. imagine being marcille as she gets older watching laios experience the same exact fear and grief she knows so well and knowing she cant do anything other than reassure him itll be alright. imagine being so scared to die and now suddenly you know someone who CANT die and realizing thats SO MUCH WORSE paces in circles. AAAAAAUGH

additional thought of this au, what if this was part of the demons curse to never allow laios' greatest desire to be granted? i mean laios is a very simple guy with simple wants, he wants to be loved, to eat good food, to study monsters, to be around his friends, and generally just live a normal life. being immortal would definitely complicate things... he'll be able to see and experience so many things but he wont be able to do it with his loved ones, not for long.

and also, being king, he'd probably be in that position for a long long time - maybe he'd willingly retire at some point but even after that where would he go then? what would he do? he cant go and find monsters to study, they all avoid him. i guess, explore the rest of the world? watch everything move on without him?

speaking of, imagine if he lived up until a time like modern day. so many years so many friends (gained and lost) and so many changes... that would be insane. THIS IS SPIRALLING INTO ME JUST GOING "WOULDNT IT BE FUCKED UP TO BE IMMORTAL" AJDNSJXBAH

anyways, final note, im reminded too of this "hand my my shovel, im going in!" animatic that haunts my mind forever AUGH its so good, and captures my immortality thoughts perfectly

[holidayinhell]

Interview

CWs: references to noncon, violence

1. Would you rather - Rope or Chains?

R: Rope.

W: Chains, dear god, chains any day. Ropes fucking burn.

2. If Whumpee had multiple Whumpers, who is their favourite? For Whumpers, which Whumpee was your favourite?

R: Yeah, I’ve got a favorite. A couple years back I had a Whumpee who fought me at every turn. He'd throw his food at me, cuss me out, and try to attack me. One time he scratched absolute shit outta my arms. Anyways, I got tired of his shitty attitude and decided to kill him. I didn't keep it a secret, I told him he was gonna die. But when I went in to do it, he changed completely. No more screaming, no spark in his eye. He got quiet. Heh, he got all lovey dovey with me even. You know, lots of people say they’ll do anything if only you’ll spare their life. I never did cash in on that promise, but on this Whumpee, I put it to the fucking test. Heh. He let me do whatever I wanted to him. Depraved, horrible things, that would make the most degenerate man blush. Heh, and even though he was crying through most of it, he still pretended to like everything I did to him. And god. You should’ve seen his eyes when I told him I was still gonna kill him. That look. I think about it still.

W: I can’t. glances over at Whumper. Next question please.

3: In your opinion, what is the best way to train a pet?

R: Humans are fickle fucking beasts. You have to break down someone’s pride in order to train them. I start off with food deprivation, that usually helps me gauge what kind of fight I’m in for.

W: Positive reinforcement has always worked for me… I’ve only ever had a pet bearded dragon though.

4: Broken ribs or bullet wound? 

R: Both.

W: These questions are uncomfortable to answer. But, uh, bullet wound I guess. Assuming it didn’t graze any organs.

5: Preferred type of gag? 

R: I like a fabric gag. Or a simple piece of duct tape. Sometimes they come off and I get to squeeze a little scream out of Whumpee, and then I put a fresh one right back on. I kinda like the cycle of it.

W: I don’t have a preference… none? I guess the metal bit one isn't the worst of them. It hurts my teeth but at least I can still kinda breathe.

6: Burned or stabbed?

R: Stabbed.

W: Stabbed, I guess?

7: Favourite stress position? 

R: An old-fashioned hogtie. I guess I’m unimaginative but I don’t get too crazy into the BDSM shit. Who has the patience for that?

W: Uhh.. just, handcuffs behind my back. Something relatively comfortable.

8: Have you given or received any Brands? What do they signify?

R: Heh. No. Never been branded. I certainly have had my fun branding Whumpee though.

W: I… have two… Uhm. One on my chest that, thank Christ, is almost all the way healed. It said, uh, swine. The other one is on my back, it’s a lot worse. I don’t know what it says but I can feel it so it’s um, it’s here to stay, I guess.

R: It says Nice Try. Remember?

W: Not really.

R: From your second half-hearted escape attempt. Didn't realize you forgot. But I did hit you pretty fucking hard that night.

9: Broken arm or broken leg? 

R: Leg.

W: Arm. A million times, arm.

10: How did you get here? Why are you the way that you are?

R: I live here. Far as I know, I’ve always been 'like this'-- whatever the hell that means. And I don’t see a problem with it. We’re all free to do as we like, so that’s what I fucking do.

W: I dunno. I, I was outside, it was dark and I think it was raining…yeah… heading home from the bar. I didn’t drink that much. I didn’t live that far, either, so the rain wasn’t a problem. I remember falling down and then… I woke up here. And I’ve been here ever since.

11: What is your biggest regret?

R: I wish this Whumpee could’ve learned a thing or two from my defiant Whumpee in the second question you asked. I wanna get my dick sucked like that every fucking night.

W: Regrets... yeah, I've got a few. One stands out. It was late at night, Whumper didn't tie me up. I snuck out of my cell and I made it to the steps. Almost to the top, nearly all the way out. The door was unlocked and cracked open a little, I thought I could make a run for it and—

R: —I was waiting for you at the top. Heh. I wanted to see if you'd run, and you sure tried to. Not so much after that, though.

12: Is there a line you won’t cross? For Whumpee, what do you most fear Whumper might do?

R: A line I wouldn’t cross? Uhhh…. No. No, I don’t think so. I’ll cross any fucking line. turns to Whumpee, grinning. So what are you afraid of, Whumpee?

W: I, um. Does he really have to be here when I answer these questions?

R: Tell them, Whumpee.

W: Can I whisper it to you? (he’s already done so much to me, so fucking much… it’s dumb but I don’t want him to shave my head.)

R: smirks. You know I heard that.

13: What lessons have you taken away from your experience?

R: Everything has been the same old, same old for me. Guess this Whumpee’s lasted longer than the rest of ‘em. He’s coming up on a year soon. Kind of impressive he’s stuck around this long and hasn’t given me a reason to kill him yet.

W: I don’t know. I do what I’m told so I can eat. I take it day by day. I guess the lesson I’ve learned is that abandoning pride is the only way to survive…

14: Whip or cane?

R: Whip.

W: Yeah. Whip.

R: Didn’t expect you to say that. Noted.

15: Drugged or coherent?

R: Depends on the situation. Drugging them is useful for transport but I don’t much like it when they’re too dazed to understand what’s happening. Sometimes they fall asleep, too.

W: Drug me any fucking day. I don’t care. I’ll take whatever you have.

16: What are your true, honest feelings about each other? Is there some part of you that cares for the other at all?

R: Sometimes I like to touch him. He’s warm and it’s funny when he tries to squirm away. Plus I like it when he begs me to stop. But do I care about him? …eh. Sure, sorta. He’s my plaything.

W: Erm. Thanks, I guess. For me… Whumper is the reason I’m here. I guess I’m appreciative for the food… but he does hurt me. A lot. Constantly.

R: You're very welcome.

17: What is your favourite thing about the other? A personality trait, a physical feature, anything

R: He’s got pretty hair. A kind of pretty face, too. Yeah, almost like a girl. Heh. And he makes good sounds when he’s screaming.

W: Ah. Fuck. I really don’t know how to answer this…

R: Come on. What’s your favorite part?

W: Um. Well, I'll say this: Whumper is smart. Scary smart. I don’t think anyone would ever imagine how smart. I don’t know. I don’t. It’s… terrifying.

18: Do you have relationships outside of each other? Friends, family - if yes, do they know about Whumpee? Do they care?

R: Yes, yes, and no.

W: I have a half sister in, uh, Arkansas. We’re not close, obviously… used to have friends I guess, but it’s been a long time since I saw them…

19: What other hobbies do/did you have?

R: Video games. 

W: I used to play saxophone. A lifetime ago.

20: For Whumper, is there any chance you’ll let Whumpee go? For Whumpee, have you ever thought about life after you’re free?

R: No. Sorry. Realistically, it doesn’t make sense to ‘let him go.’

W: I, uh, I used to think about it. I don't anymore… like he said.. realistically it doesn’t make any sense.

R: Mm. Good answer, Whumpee.

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

this interview uses the questions from Character Ask Game post by @inhurtandincomfort !! thanks homie!

((more Whump))

[stydiaandthejeep]

It's already way too late when Ashton realizes it - or rather, when they're consciousness allows them to admit it, when it surfaces from the cold hardness of their rock interior, like a dandelion blooming through concrete cracks.

They're already facing the first wave of reilorans stationed outside the interior chambers of the underground, where Ludinus is - they've already absorbed all the power they could, some of them have even said their goodbyes.

He'd watched Laudna and Imogen embrace and whisper promises to each other in tears before locking hands. He gasped with the rest of them in surprise as Dorian picked Orym up by his waist and kissed him sensless, until both of their faces burned red and Orym could no longer maintain his serious-leader expression, now replaced with a smitten smile.

Ashton could feel Fearne's gaze burn into him for a moment right after, but his hands were shaking so bad that he could not return it. It felt like a final puzzle slotting into place - they said their thanks to Letters and to Bertrand one last time.

So it did not matter that he felt his eyes water for the first time in ages, that he could not help staring at her, memorizing every detail, every freckle. They were close enough - he could have squeezed her hand in passing. Instead, a series of loud explosions announced them it was time to start hitting as much as he could, protect the others like he'd promised himself he would.

He had never fought with such a silent determination - and in the chaos of spells and weapons flying, no one could notice their wet face, the way they were murmuring over and over under their breath - 'It's too late now.'

Without realizing, he'd positioned himself to shield her, to take the damage aimed at her. They could feel the singe of fire passing them by their face, could hear her gasp whenever he would brace himself to take the brunt of another hit. This was the least he could do. He was hours, maybe minutes from dying without even telling her. His rage came naturally - it was rage aimed at himself this time, for not working his shit out earlier, for not allowing himself to process it all in due time.

Seeing her get scraped by an incoming arrow, blood dripping from the side of her arm - it now felt worse than taking an arrow himself. Seeing her hurt was enough to make him see red - in a second he materialized through a portal behind the attacker and did not even bother to use their hammer, instead gripping their neck and snapping it without a second thought. Fearne made eye contact with them from across - her worried expression let them know she could see now that Ashton was crying while fighting, silent tears mixing with stray blood. Instead, he smiled at her, fond and so fucking devoted, he imagined.

He realized how in love he was with her, but it was too late. He would probably have to die and take all that love with him. Maybe for a second, Fearne could read it on his face - he was watching her like she was the sun.

Ashton turned around, and willed himself to keep attacking.