#reader is a mascot horror

[wigglermansblog]

Transformers w/ Mascot Horror! Reader

A/n : I got this idea after watching Finding Frankie and it comes to me, what if the cybertronians meet the MC who is a Mascot Horror Animatronic. Might as well start with the Autobots first. I can't mention any of the Autobots since there are too many of them and so many to choose from.

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

The first time they met you when they received a mission from their Liaison about human disappearance.

They thought you were a troublesome cybertronian that caused ruckus within human civilization. But turns out, you weren't.

You were an animatronic, a sentient at that. They were fascinated on how 'human' you are and you convinced them that—

"Do not worry, my fellow robot friends! I am NOT a v-vengeful spirit that possessed an animatronic's body and ALSO NOT some p-p-urple murderer who kills c-c-children for FUN!" you said.

Suddenly, the radio turns on and a reporter talks about finding dead bodies within the nearby facility.

You turn off the radio before awkwardly stare at the Autobots, "Well about that—"

You run a gameshow which caused the mysterious disappearance and they told you to stop it since what you are doing is a crime.

You told them that you're doing what you are programmed for. It is already implemented into your codings. Even though the Founders are dead, the game must go on.

Truthfully, they pity you. Even though you look taken care of, they do notice how your body would often twitch and your voice glitches when you talk.

You're breaking down in their optics. It's only a moment of time before your body decides to shut down.

They do want to help you. Maybe they could rewrite your coding with the help of a few bots.

[bloodytitanhell]

Minors do not interact

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Black girl reader x Eren idea

Randomly had this idea where you wanna celebrate your baby Eren birthday and that you'll do a n y t h i n g his bday. And I mean literally anything cause Eren be either wanting a cute date like some restaurant with just you or his friends or the freakiest strangest, erotic, roleplays ever.

And this time it was an odd one where he would cosplay as one of his favorite horror mascot characters as you cosplay something cute but very skimpy where the skirt is very short and you had to wear no bra.

Eren hates to admit it, but he likes it when there's a bit of intimidation going on and he would love to see your cute face be shrunken with some fear.

His hand wrapping around your neck as he chokes you. Hear you gasp for air. Licking your pretty tears. Calling you a cute yet ugly crier. Saying how you are only his and hell beat the shit out of anyone that even glanced at you.

[strawberryamanita]

Here, my children. Go forth and turn this into a creepypasta/SCP/found footage/mascot horror/analog horror thing for lolz. 'Tis the season for spooky times

Now that I think about it, Reader Rabbit might be good for [Vinesauce]'s Edutaintment segments, if/when he decides to make another one of those...

[hxnbi]

「 BEING THEIR SIBLING 」

synopsis: you were his beloved sibling, meant to stay far out of harms way, he would make damn sure of it

— characters: itadori yuji, fushiguro megumi — contents: fluff, angst, comfort, platonic, gn reader

gojo version | masterlist

ITADORI YUJI ✿ child reader

With all that Yuji has been through in his life, he, of course, feels a sense of responsibility and duty for the well-being of his family, blood-related or not. 

Still at the age where letters in math could only be dreamt of in nightmares, Yuji found himself being the one to take care of you. And when his grandpa died, he was left, now alone, holding the bag.

Or so he thought. 

You held onto his hand that day when he found out, a sombre look in your eyes. 

Thats right… How could he be so selfish? He still had you. 

He's very much a family guy, and he holds his family closest to his heart. And when he was told about you—getting to keep you in his arms in the hospital—he knew what his duty was. As his baby sibling, Yuji did everything and anything to ensure that you were protected and cared for.

Yuji's mouth dropped. "Crap…"

"Huh? What are you yapping about now?" Megumi scowled.

"I need to pick up [Y/n] from daycare!" he panicked, pacing back and forth. But it wasn't like he could suddenly leave, not like this spiky-haired individual staring daggers into him would let him… Well, not voluntarily, that is.

Megumi sighed, and he pulled out his phone. "I'm on it."

"What… are you doing?"

"Making a call. We'll have a trusted individual pick up your sibling."

"...I-I see."

Megumi looked at Yuji, who nodded. "Don't worry. They'll be out of harm's way."

That was all Yuji ever wanted.

But when everything in his life came to a head and he became the vessel of Ryomen Sukuna, the king of curses, your safety could no longer be guaranteed… not while Sukuna was still around, or rather, inside him. 

Still, you loved being around him, and Yuji loved being around you. When everything was said and done, all of Yuji's worries about this sudden move to Tokyo went much better than expected.

As a young child, you were naive, but that may as well be thrown out the window because Yuji didn't give two shits about that. And just like Yuji, you were energetic, outgoing, and eager to see the new "world" you were in. You two were like two birds that flock together, for better or for worse. 

The Tokyo students—mainly the infamously noisy ones Nobara and Panda while Maki, Megumi, and Toge watched—would pop in from time to time in his room, only to see you sleeping on Yuji's shoulder. At the same time, Yuji had a book in hand, previously to read to you but now used to block the sun from dancing on your face.

And a mystery to nearly everyone, even Yaga, the revered and arguably intimating headmaster—with a stare enough to make any child under the age of 5 cry—couldn't resist your charm. Your influence permeated every corner of Tokyo Jujutsu High until you were affectionately dubbed the school's unofficial mascot, much to your brother's horror.

And when Yuji went on missions or on days when the students had to train and go to classes, arguably the most responsible adult, Nanami Kento, was given the babysitter title of Yuji's sibling.

The others—that being Nobara, Gojo, and Panda; Megumi, Maki, and Toge would only watch with deadpan expressions—could only speculate on the origin of Yuji's surprising skills at cooking, but after doing some stalking investigating, and seeing you and Yuji in the itches together, teaching you how to cook, their hearts couldn't take it. That day, dozens of pictures were snapped and then plastered in Yuji's room. 

Yuji would hold you in his arms, providing comfort and a safe haven. He was an older brother figure who would do anything and everything to protect his younger sibling, even if it meant hiding things from you. He carried all the weight, all the burdens, on his own in hopes of shielding you from the harsh realities of their world. One of Yuji's defining traits is his willingness to sacrifice himself for others, triggered by his grandfather's last words to him.

No way in hell could he ever let that happen again—not to you, who had such a long life ahead of you, not to anyone. Yuji would always joke around with you and have fun, protecting that youth he cherished with his soul. 

You were just a kid, after all. You were just a kid when he died.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI ✿ older sibling reader

Unlike Yuji, Megumi would be the complete opposite.

As the oldest Fushiguro sibling, naturally, you took up the responsibility of caring for Megumi and Tsumiki. You were yet another child, the byproduct of Toji's fickle nature. You, Megumi, and Tsumiki were all from different mothers. God forbid there be another secret child you three haven't heard about yet. Still, the three of you couldn't have been more tightly knit. Megumi would beg to differ, only to have a chocolate milk carton thrown his way by Tsumiki. What a magical household of violence. 

When he was younger, Megumi struggled, or rather, embraced his unruly bursts of temper, often resulting in scuffles with middle schoolers. He would probably be considered a problem child if it weren't for his straight A's. But that didn't matter to you, and you ensured you knew that.

Your swift reprimands would quash any budding notions of so-called "gang activity," cautioning him against a future as a "mafia leader." Needless to say, he wasn't impressed.

Regardless, he listened—much to the jaw-dropping shock of anyone, especially those whom Megumi had previously beaten up. 

Your genuine concern for him—not about what he did but about him—made him angry.

He hated it, and yet he craved it. 

You'd always urge him to take a breather and relax, all the while as the pile of beaten-up "gangsters" groaned in pain and agony. But that wasn't your concern. Occasionally, during those moments with a fuming teenager at your side, you'd treat him to meals out whenever you managed to steal a moment from your busy workday. Everything you did was for his well-being, regardless of the stress you were putting on your own shoulders. Because in your mind, your little brother didn't deserve all that he went through, and as mature as he was for his age, he still deserved to be a kid.

No one should be able to take away youth from children.

As a kid, he needed that sort of stability in his life. After enduring so much, simply having someone beside him meant everything to him.

And you did so in a way where you took on a mother-like figure in his life. Everything you did and every action you took was driven by your love and care for him and Tsumiki. 

Even as a young third grader, Megumi keenly felt burdened by this fact—the weight of this responsibility, especially following his family's departure, Tsumiki's subsequent accident and being crippled and left in a coma in the hospital. Every first day of the month became a ritual for you and Megumi, visiting Tsumiki's bedside with a bouquet of flowers. 

And during the days when nightmares haunted your sleep, Megumi would be woken up to you crying. 

Neither would ever go on to utter a word about that.

Your absolute worst fear was for him to be injured or worse—to lose him to the dangerous path he might tread—and Megumi didn't have to be a genius to know what you were referring to. 

In your eyes, you wanted to take him and Tsumiki away from the messiness of Jujutsu and the Zenin clan and live a peaceful life. From all the times that Megumi would see you sacrificing your own happiness for the sake of others, he knew your heart's desire.

But when that scheming man—Gojo Satoru—presented Megumi with a deal, promising a brighter future for Tsumiki and you, Megumi knew it was his turn to repay you for all you had done for him.

He wasn't sure if you would accept it, but he had to try.

"...Huh?"

Little did he know, you had expected it.

"You don't need to say anything else. I understand."

You smiled softly, continuing to make dinner as Megumi stood there, lost in thought.

"Whatever choice you make is up to you. This is your life," you said gently, turning to face him. "And I trust you to make the best decision for yourself and Tsumiki. After all, what sibling would I be if I didn't trust my own brother?" you laughed. 

Megumi met your gaze. The stiffness in his shoulders eased as he took in your words and that smile of yours…

Your support meant the world to him.

"Thank you," he whispered, and you only smiled in response.

"Now!" you clapped. "Enough of that sappy stuff. Would you like to help me out with dinner?"

With a smile of his own, he nodded, "Of course," and made his way to the kitchen to lend a hand.

Yeah... this was what he was looking for. It was what filled the void he had been feeling.

With your acceptance, he felt more confident in accepting whatever was ahead of him. It didn't matter what happened to him. His own fate became inconsequential; his sole focus was on protecting you and his sister, Tsumiki.

You respected his choice—you always did—and that was why he cherished you so much. 

You, his older sibling.

There was always an aura of maturity around Megumi, his friends thought (and surprisingly selfless, but they would never admit that to his face). Unbeknownst to them, it was all because of how he had to take care of himself after all the adult figures in his life left him, except for one person. His older sibling of 7 years, you.

He felt a sense of responsibility. He owed it to you after all that you've done. He wanted to prove to you that all your efforts to raise him weren't for naught. 

All those nights when you thought Tsumiki and Megumi were asleep and would then cry yourself to sleep, or days when you would come back from work with a couple of injuries, or even the day when you came home with a bruise on your cheek…

He wanted to prove to you—that he could protect you, his family.

And then you could take a break and leave the rest to him.

©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.

[solxamber]

Maybe a request where reader had a potion class accident with grim and idia as partners for it, and turned into a cat for a temporary amount of time due to a mishap?

I just think it sounds like idia would 100% milk this for all its worth cuz an event has occurred involving cats...

and i think grim being around with reader and idia would infact add to the cat meter, sounds amusing to me at least

Stay safe have a good day your writin is great :]

Mishaps and Kitty Cats - Idia x reader

love this request, combined 2 of my favorite things- cats and idia

Potionology wasn’t exactly a class you thrived in, but how hard could it be? You just mix some ingredients together, follow the instructions (mostly), and hope Grim doesn’t knock something over. Easy enough, right?

That was your first mistake.

The second? Teaming up with Idia and Grim.

Idia, hunched over his tablet, was busy calculating potion probabilities or something nerdy, while Grim was... being Grim. Pawing at random ingredients, making snide comments, and generally being more of a hindrance than any helpful mascot should ever be.

“I’m telling ya, we don’t need all these fancy-schmancy ingredients!” Grim huffed, flicking his tail dismissively. “Just throw in some catnip and call it a day!”

Idia, not even bothering to look up, mumbled, “Uh, no. That’ll throw off the potion’s balance and potentially, like, destroy the entire lab. But, yeah, sure, go ahead. I’ll just be over here doing the actual calculations.”

"Catnip," you muttered, shooting Grim a sideways glance. "Right. Because that's the missing key to magical success."

Grim puffed out his chest, as if the sheer confidence would make up for his utter lack of sense. "You mock, but I know what's what."

You sighed. Maybe pairing with the guy obsessed with cats and the guy obsessed with numbers wasn’t the best move. “Idia, are you sure you’ve got this under control?”

“I’ve got this down to a 96.8% success rate,” Idia said, tapping away on his tablet with the fervor of someone far too invested in digital alchemy. “The probability of anything going wrong is, like, practically nonexistent.”

You peered into the cauldron. It was bubbling ominously, more like it was contemplating murder than mixing into a helpful potion. “And the other 3.2%?”

“Well... worst-case scenario, you might end up as a squirrel. Temporarily. Maybe.”

Before you could even process what he just said, Grim—bless his chaotic little heart—decided to tip over a vial of glowing green liquid into the cauldron. “Oops.”

There was a brief, deadly silence. Then a whoosh of bright smoke exploded from the cauldron, enveloping you, Grim, and Idia in a thick, magical fog.

Coughing, you blinked through the haze. Everything seemed bigger, or maybe you were smaller. And then you noticed Grim staring at you with wide eyes, mouth hanging open.

“What?” you asked—or, at least, you tried to ask. What came out instead was a small, pitiful meow.

Grim blinked. Twice. “Nya?!”

Idia finally looked up from his tablet, and when he saw you, a grin spread across his face so wide it looked like he had just won the rarest item drop of his life. "Oh. My. Gods."

You stared at him, then down at your—oh no. Oh no no no. You had fur. You had paws. Your tail lashed back and forth as panic began to settle in. "I’m a cat?!"

"This. Is. Amazing!" Idia was practically vibrating with excitement, not at all concerned about your current feline predicament. "This is like, peak event status. You turned into a cat! This is exactly like that one episode of 'Magical Meow-taku no Monogatari' where the protagonist gets cursed and—"

Grim cut in, his tone somewhere between horror and indignation. “Nyaaa, wait a minute! I’m supposed to be the only talking cat here! This is outrageous!” His fur bristled as he looked between you and Idia, clearly not enjoying this turn of events.

You tried to hiss at Grim, but all that came out was a squeaky mewl. Great. Even your protests were adorable.

Idia, meanwhile, was thoroughly enjoying himself. “Oh man, this is like, prime meme content. We need to document this! Hold on, I’m sending a message to the dorm chat.”

You swatted at his leg with a paw, trying to stop him, but your efforts were in vain. He was already furiously typing into his tablet.

“‘So, uh, our partner just turned into a cat lol. 10/10, would pet again.’ There, sent,” Idia said, looking way too pleased with himself. He looked down at you, his expression downright giddy. “You don’t even understand how happy this makes me. A real-life cat transformation! This is like, a rare gacha pull, but better. Because it’s you. As a cat.”

Grim groaned dramatically, throwing his paws up. “Unbelievable! I can’t believe this is happening! Now there’s two of you! This was supposed to be my thing!” He shot a glare your way. “You better fix this fast, or I’ll never live it down.”

You tried to roll your eyes—well, as much as a cat could roll their eyes—and sat down, tail flicking impatiently. You’d really like to be human again, thanks.

But Idia wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.

“You know,” he said, voice taking on a thoughtful tone, “I could, theoretically, keep you like this for a while. I mean, think of the content. We could have a whole cat-themed channel. Imagine it: ‘Cat Adventures with the Prefect and Grim!’ You could be a streaming sensation!”

Your wide-eyed, horrified stare was lost on him as he started muttering to himself about potential subscriber counts and fan art. Grim, meanwhile, was rapidly spiraling into a jealousy-fueled rage.

“No way! This can’t happen! I’m the mascot! Me! Not you!” Grim wailed, tugging at his own fur as if his dignity depended on it.

In the background, Idia was already searching for the best cat toys to order online.

This was going to be a long day.

Masterlist

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

🎃 It came from the attic

Tentacles CW: Tentacles, monster fucking, non-con, they're tentacles, GN!Reader

The sorority house was empty excluding (Reader). All of the ladies had left out of fear, leaving their brave defender to investigate the building for them. Although (Reader) wasn't a woman they were a beloved member of the house. Asked to join the "family" after defending Jessica from drunk frat boys at a mixer in their first year. Sometimes it was borderline insulting the way (Reader) was treated but overall it was nice being surrounded by sweet young women who treated (Reader) nicer than their own family did.

But unfortunately, being the "defender" also meant that when Rebecca heard noises at night and their house mascot (a fat ass cat named Sprinkles) went missing, everyone vacated the premises and begged (Reader) to investigate.

"All the bedrooms are clear." (Reader) spoke into their phone.

A jumble of frightened voices argued on the other line before Jessica put the phone back to her ear. "Rebecca says it came from the attic."

(Reader) sighed away from the receiver. "Roger Roger, I'll go check." They hung up and placed the cell in their pocket, trudging over to the pull down ladder. It was a pain, but it did feel nice to be needed. The dusty ladder fell with a loud cthunk. (Reader) coughed up the nasty air as a thin layer of grey settled in the hallway.

They cringed as they climbed up into the attic, the dust coating their bare hands. "Sprinkles? I doubt you're up here, but if you are please come here."

Surprisingly, a quiet mew was heard back in the corner where a bunch of boxes were stacked.

"No fucking way - Sprinkles! Tsk tsk tsk!"

The boxes rustled as (Reader) approached, meowing again.

"Kitty?" (Reader) opened the top box and was immediately flung back. Their back hit the floor, smacking their skull hard enough to see spots. Something pink had launched out and tackled (Reader).

They didn't have time to get a better look at the thing before it wiggled into (Reader's) clothes. Slimy and hot, it felt like giant worms or wet snakes pulsating across their skin, searching and writhing. (Reader) ripped off their shirt in horror, watching the brain like mass quickly move down to their pants.

"What the fuck?!" (Reader) grabbed at the thing, feeling the sticky warm liquid spread across their fingers. It felt like it was permeating their skin, infecting their body with the oozing heat. "EW!!"

Despite the grossness of the situation, (Reader) tightened their grip, squeezing more fluid out of the vibrating tendril. As (Reader's) eyes adjusted to the dark they were horrified to learn that the liquid was only dripping out of the phallic tips. They accidentally released it out of fear and disgust.

It took the opportunity to force its way into (Reader's) pants. They screamed as it wasted no time nestling into (Reader's) underwear, prodding at their sex. "No!" (Reader) tried to take off their pants, but the warmth from the creature's slime spread quickly across their pelvis as it slipped itself into their hole.

Their body felt like it was melting; every inch of their skin that had been touched by the creature warmed up unbearably. Like a fever infecting only where it had traveled. It was painful, and uncomfortable; but worse than that, it was tingly.

Arousing.

The monster grew, filling (Reader) up as it doubled, tripled, in size. Tentacles wrapped around (Reader's) thighs as it pumped in and out. The heat made their head feel fuzzy, and their muscles weak, robbing them of their ability to fight back as they slumped down into the dust.

A pink wet arm pressed against (Reader's) lips, easily invading their mouth. It pumped sour tasting goo down their throat, sending the hot feeling further throughout (Reader). It was now the size of (Reader), cradling their weak body as it mercilessly fucked them from all sides. As it grew, the tentacles multiplied, running out of holes to fill. They started rubbing against any fold they could find. (Reader) felt their armpits and thighs violated as it continued pumping it's liquid into, and onto, them.

(Reader) didn't notice when they came; their body a pathetic sweaty mess of sensitive nerves. But the creature seemed pleased, meowing with Sprinkles' voice as it finally came, splashing the sour tasting cum inside of (Reader). It felt like their body was being stretched out as the creature drained itself into (Reader).

Before they lost consciousness a thought finally formed in their over fucked mind.

'Please save me..'

[ddarker-dreams]

Nexus III.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Explicit not SFW, mommy issues galore, some psychological horror elements, yandere themes, and unhealthy relationships. Word count: 15.6k.

Nexus index.

When you dream of your mother, it’s in a lotus field.

Everyone’s psyche manifests itself in a distinct way, echoes the teachings she left behind. This is yours. 

The bioluminescent petals cower inward as if hiding a terrible secret. Some bloom along the hazy ground, others swing in the air, suspended by strings hung from a glass dome overhead. 

In this dream, you cannot speak, though you have much to say. 

Gentle as you may be, each step you take to close the gap between you and her demands a sacrifice. The flower’s vibrancy drains like color from a dying man’s face. From the stem upward, it decays. To try and save it is to kill it faster. Brittle fragments crumble into ashen piles that scratch at your bare feet. 

Her back remains facing you. 

You have no way of earning her attention. She is blind to the frantic waving of your arms, deaf to the eroding necropolis you leave in your wake. 

You’re certain you’ll never reach her. Still, you try, only to fail all the same. 

With each passing dream, a crack along your glass dome spreads. It started too small to see and is now too large to fix. Is it best to let it shatter? Could it be the silent warden that cordons you off from a universe you know yet have never experienced? 

Or is it the final bastion that shields you? 

A devastating attack on the Thelx’s main guide causes cataphoric damage to the quadrant’s sixth residential district. The aftershocks resulted in the collapse of multiple buildings, resulting in injuries for hundreds and a rising death toll that currently stands at 34. Local residents have filed complaints for years now, listing concerns that the most recent building inspections have not resulted in appropriate measures taking place. 

“We all knew something bad was bound to happen,” said one woman who happened to be visiting family in Ade during the incident. “We knew, but where else are we supposed to go? Our choices were to stay put and take our chances or try surviving in Arc. No one wanted that. But now…. seeing this… maybe Arc would’ve been better.”

An investigation into the matter is being spearheaded by Chrysus, Ade’s Exalted Regent. 

We reached out to Chrysus’ team for a statement and have yet to receive a response. 

Rumors are swirling online that the attack was targeted at Thelx’s Exalted Arbiter, [First] Phaeales, the single daughter of the deceased Ania Phaeales. A spokesperson for Thelx’s fledgling matriarch has confirmed her safety, though she received minor injuries. Thelx is expected to endure further economic hardship due to the IPC’s recent travel ban. The LOTUS-EATER and similar establishments constitute up to 43% of Thelx’s total gross domestic product—

“It’s rude to read when you have a guest over,” Nona chides. 

“Sorry.” 

You turn your phone off and place it beside the other ornaments atop your vanity. Makeup, jewelry, hair ornaments, and one of the only gifts your mother ever gave; a lotus made of iridescent crystals. It’s sat untouched for years and you assume it will continue to do so. 

Nona, who has helped herself to lying on your bed, rolls over onto her stomach. Both her cheeks squish together as she holds her head up by tiny fists, her elbows digging into your comforter for support. She draws her lips into a thin line. There’s a hollowness to her gaze that rivals the mask she wore when you first met. 

“Why do you care so much?” 

Her inquiry leaves you temporarily at a loss for words. “... What?” 

“About people you haven’t met,” she clarifies. “Whose names you don’t even know. To them, you’re nothing but a glorified mascot to blame when things go bad and praise when things go right.” 

Your mouth is too dry for you to swallow. “Each life in Thelx has been entrusted to me.” 

“So? Did everyone come up to you one by one and ask for your stewardship?” 

“Of course not, don’t be unreasonable.” 

“I’m the one being unreasonable?” Nona barks a caustic laugh. “Have you seen what these people have been saying? ‘Let’s pack up the family and move to Arc!’, as if any of them could survive there for more than the instant their foot crosses over the divide. It’s hilarious! The funniest joke I’ve heard in some time.” 

Your eyes narrow. “That’s enough. The community is understandably hurt. Frightened. When tragedies happen, we each have our ways of making sense of things.” 

She pushes herself up and sits crisscross. “I’m just saying I’d like to see them try. Me… I would’ve given anything to have been born here. An organ, a limb, whatever. At least I’d be hobbling around where there’s light and warmth.” 

“Nona…” 

“They don’t know. They have no idea,” Nona trembles. “People make Arc out to be something it isn’t. ‘Look at how free they are, they can live as they please, answering to no one but themselves!’ Funnily enough, the IPC said the same thing when they built Perianth, didn’t they? Got the whole universe feeling warm and fuzzy. The poor, the wretched, the damned; they’re hideous up close, so let’s tuck them far away from the light. Then we don’t have to see them.”

She hangs her head. “Experiencing rejection from the rejected… that’s what they can look forward to in Arc. Anything else is a pipe dream.” 

You get up from your chair and sit down next to her on the bed. Finding a blanket, you toss it over your shoulder, extra prudent to avoid any accidental contact. Glassy amber eyes blink slowly as you pat the cushioned spot. She starts leaning in, only to pause a few inches shy of her intended target. You don’t need to be in her head to guess what reel she’s flicking through. When the feature film’s end credits roll, she rests her head on your shoulder. 

“Lear’s worried about you, y��know.” 

“I know.” 

“Loopy would be too, if it were sentient.” 

“It’s possible.” 

“...” 

She whispers your name, hesitant, as if she were a child preparing to ask their parents for a gift they know they can’t have.

“If I could, I’d wish that all the stars in the universe would burn so bright, so hot, that each person would melt away like ice until only us three remain. The poor, wretched, and damned. Our happiness would be unrivaled if there were no one else to compare ourselves to. You don’t know misery if no one ever tells you you’re miserable.” 

Or maybe you invent new miseries for yourself, you think. Then, with no one to compare yourself to… would you not be the most miserable person in the universe? 

You could voice your musings but to verbalize them now feels wrong. Instead, you choose to let her live the wish that will never come true. In this pocket dimension, beyond the four walls of your room, nothing exists. No Thelx, Perianth II, Stellaron Hunter or IPC. There are only two jagged shards who have abandoned being whole again. You might not click together like puzzle pieces, perfectly falling into place to form a seamless image, but you can look at the pane you broke free from and decide for yourself if the result was worth it. 

Choosing between two evils is better than being stuck with one. 

“Nona,” you break the silence. If there’s anything you’ve been doing too much of lately, it’s dwelling on factors beyond your control. 

“Hm?” 

“That flower bouquet,” you nod toward the magenta-colored roses on your vanity, which she brought in earlier. “There was a message attached to it, wasn’t there?” 

She stiffens. 

“... Possibly.” 

You knew a ‘gift’ from Miss 10.899 billion wouldn’t come without some poisonous flourish. The roses don’t have thorns, so the sharpness must lay elsewhere. 

“What did it say?” 

“You really want to know?” 

“I’m asking, aren’t I?” 

She deflates like a balloon pricked by a needle, then mumbles, “The tag said ‘Get well soon.’”

Ah, you think. If I could have anyone melt away… she’d certainly be high on the list.

You haven’t spoken one word to Blade since he carried your unconscious body back to the LOTUS-EATER. 

Regardless, he’s still around. He isn’t some option in your settings you can turn off with a single button press. He hasn’t initiated contact while you healed from your injuries, which consisted of a sprained ankle, two broken ribs, and minor abrasions peppered throughout. Your high position ensured you’d receive the best medical care Eris has to offer. 

Fourteen total cycles have passed since the Thelx nectar guide bombing. 

Fourteen dreary cycles filled with nothing but eating bland food, taking bitter medication, and dreaming the same gloomy dream. 

During this festive stretch, Nona has been your primary visitor. Lear restricted himself to electronic communication, fearing the emotional reaction he’d experience from seeing you in this state might harm you. They’ve both taken to distracting you in their own fashion. Nona shows you pictures, such as the googly eyes she put on Loopy, or discusses the strangest psyches she’s seen from clients. One client’s mind manifested itself as a drumstick. 

“Not even a pair, just one,” she giggled. “Hey, don’t start lecturing me about our privacy policy. I see you fighting back a smile. That absolves me from breaking my NDA.” 

Then there’s Lear who laser focuses on your health. At least 80% of his texts follow the ‘Have you x’ format. Stretched, taken medicine, slept, eaten; you half expect him to start asking if you’ve breathed enough. 

The timer you’ve set for your tea goes off. 

You pull the teabag out, dispose of it, and then stir the ruby-colored concoction. Golden flecks swirl in a violent vortex. Content, you throw on a diaphanous, cape-like outer garment over your loungewear. The fabric is deceptively delicate to the eye yet has been synthesized to preserve heat. 

The components that open your bedroom door at your behest emit a low hum. The lack of use must’ve spoiled them. This is the first time you’ve emerged from your hibernation. The light system in your office whirs to life upon your return. You wave off the visual assault. Your eyes have become so accustomed to the dark that you’ll need to build your light tolerance back up. 

After inputting the proper passcode, you pass through to the balcony. 

And then immediately regret it when Blade’s back is the first thing that greets you. 

He’s in a meditative stance. The gales of loud emotion that normally engulf him have quieted down to a hush. From this position, you can see how his long ebony strands cascade down his back, the tips taken on a reddish hue. A pearlescent sheen shimmers along the outline of his body, the moon’s personal gift. When one thinks of a stereotypical warrior, certain biases culminate in the rough image of some brute, like a brigand from a child’s fairytale. 

However, seeing him like this, exuding poise and temperance, you think he fits the role of prince. 

You take a step back. 

“You can stay,” his voice slashes through your entangled thoughts, “I’ll go inside.” 

A beast slithers in the calm waters as soon as he stops his meditation. It isn’t voracious or on the hunt. No, you get the distinct feeling it finds pleasure in lurking just below the surface, not creating so much as a ripple to deter its prey. Waiting and waiting. By the time some poor soul enters and realizes they aren’t alone, it’s too late. Multiple rows of pointed teeth have already pierced their flesh. 

You block his path with your body, an act that’s equally confounding to him as it is to you. 

“I wanted to talk to you,” you say. Your boldness fizzles out beneath the weight of his stare. “If… that’s alright.” 

He considers you briefly. You expect him to walk away without sparing you another glance, but it must be his turn to foster confusion. He turns around and sits on the chair to the left, as he did when you first became acquainted. After what feels like a delay in your neurons providing information to your brain, you sit beside him. It occurs to you that your little balcony is in excellent shape even though you haven’t been able to maintain it. 

You look at him from the corner of your eye. 

Has he been keeping this area clean? 

Oddly enough, it’s Blade who prompts further conversation. “How are your injuries?” 

“My ankle’s fully recovered and my ribs only hurt if I move too much. I’ve got nothing to complain about.” 

You take a sip of your concoction. A sweet, herbal flavor dances on your tongue with a hint of spice. These tea leaves are one of the few that can grow on Eris in an artificial environment. You added a spoonful of the Nectary’s tonic to complement the taste. It’s a drink popularly referred to as ambrosia. 

“How about you? Have you healed— oh, um.” You raise your hand to cover your traitorous mouth. It can prevent more words from coming out, but it can’t take back what’s already been said. 

“I have, unfortunately.” 

“‘Unfortunately?’” You repeat back, though the sound is muffled. You wince. So much for putting an end to your bluntness. 

“You’re acting reserved,” he dryly notes. “Is this the same woman who takes every chance to tell me off?” 

“Hey, I don’t take every chance to—” You throw your head back in exasperation upon seeing the beginning of a self-satisfied smirk. “... I shouldn’t… have behaved as… candidly as I did. It’s unprofessional.” 

“‘That part,’ huh,” Blade mutters. “You don’t have to section off parts of yourself, you choose to.” 

The tea’s aftertaste turns bitter. 

To be whole is a privilege Blade doesn’t have, you think. If he allowed that, then… would he really be ‘Blade’ anymore? 

You stare down at the distorted reflection the tea provides, ripples distorting your likeness before you can confirm his claim. Your hands must be trembling. 

“I advised against it for a reason. My mind is unsightly.” 

“It isn’t that!” you turn your head toward him, catching how he furrows his eyebrows at your outburst of emotion, “What I did… it wasn’t right. I took advantage of your vulnerable state and tried to manipulate you. Control you. A violation like that… it’s unforgivable.”

Anytime a situation threatens to spiral beyond your control, you resort to what you supposedly swore off. 

I’ll only do it this once, the circumstances call for it, you’d tell yourself. No more after that. I mean this time, I really do. It won’t happen again.

Until it does.

Alister with his weapon. Blade after he saved your life. Lear when the loneliness felt excruciating.

Your chest feels like it’s hosting a colony of crawling maggots ready to burst through your flesh. It hurts, this slimy, despicable filth that you scrub raw only to dirty again. Not trusting yourself with the fragile teacup, you set it down. 

“So that’s what you consider a sin,” Blade says. “You oppose incarceration and yet you're a prisoner to your own guilt.” 

“That’s different.” 

“Even so, one is far worse than the other. I should know; I’ve experienced both. If I could choose between a physical prison or my mind, I’d pick the former.” 

You recall the gargantuan structure that is Blade’s repressed psyche. The oppressive atmosphere, how it stood alone, far removed from anything resembling hope. 

If it’s of Xianzhou build, it must be none other than the Shackling Prison. 

“The injuries you received when protecting me,” You work through each word slowly, as if testing their validity. “They should’ve killed you. But instead… you ‘defied the natural order’ — death itself.” 

Blade doesn’t move his gaze from the four moons in the sky. 

The Xianzhou Alliance’s intolerance for those who follow the Aeon of Abundance, Yaoshi, is infamous throughout the universe. What the followers consider blessings, they reject as curses. For the Xianzhou, it’s personal. The ink the Aeon has left behind hardly has time to dry before more transgressions are added to the ledger. 

Those who live on Eris, yourself included, most commonly follow the Noct, the Aeon of The Ideal. Noct is thought to be the one who blessed this planet with the Nectary. Without it, the first generation of prisoners left to fend for themselves by the IPC would have perished. Your Aeon is in what the Genius Society calls ‘an indefinite hibernation’, not interacting with the material world yet not fully removed from it either. Some revere their Aeon enough to die for them, others despise them enough to dedicate everything to their destruction; neither side makes sense.

To you, the Aeons feel almost as distant as the stars. 

“Can it really be considered a sin if it’s beyond your control?” 

“It won’t always be,” he replies. “Until then, I can’t allow myself to forget. You must get why.” 

You wish you didn’t. 

A few moments pass. They flow into each other smoothly, lacking acidity. You resume drinking your tea. It’s lukewarm, but you don’t mind. 

“You truly aren’t afraid of me,” you remark. 

“What’s there to be afraid of?” 

The deep bass of his voice temporarily adjusts to allow bemusement. It takes you a moment to realize he isn’t mocking you, it’s more teasing than anything. The reminder does serve you well. Physically, the gap in your strength is insurmountable. He could snuff out your life before you realized your appointment with death had been expedited. 

“Most people are put off by my company in a casual setting. Being around someone who could peer into your mind, past all the pretenses we work so diligently to build… it’s frightening. Unnatural, even.” 

He focuses on the abyssal horizon. It’s as if your Aeon swaddled this planet in a pitch-black blanket with the four moons acting as a nursery mobile. You can reach up to grasp them as much as you’d like, but the cosmic entities will never be yours. It is you who belongs to them. 

“My mind has a will of its own,” Blade tells you. “It’s loud. Something about you quiets it down.” 

You blink. “Really?” 

He stares at you blankly instead of repeating himself. You take it that’s his way of communicating he has no reason to be dishonest. 

“This affliction you’re suffering from… it’s called mara, correct?” 

The instant the word leaves your lips, his demeanor shifts. It’s subtle, the tightening of his muscles and his frown deepening, yet the physical signs aren’t what tip you off. The pervasive air shrouding the beast inside his psyche is twitching. It longs to permanently rid Blade of control and loathes each rejection it’s endured. 

“I think I saw it. From what I’ve heard, I thought it’d be more self-destructive. Yours, though… how do I put it… it’s vicious, but it’s like a muzzle has been forced on it. I assume Kafka had something to do with that?” 

He doesn’t deny your conjecture. 

“Hmph, figures it’d be her handiwork. She can poke around in people’s heads, but her techniques are more effective in the short term. It lacks staying power,” you cross your arms. “I wonder why my presence deters your mara.” 

“It’s never functioned normally. I’ve long abandoned trying to make sense of it.” 

“I can’t accept that,” you huff. “You’ve saved my life twice now. There has to be something useful to be gleaned from this, even if it isn’t a complete cure.” 

The groundwork has been laid out. You were able to scrape together enough to give his psyche form, an act that’s no small feat, since he didn’t go through the typical interview process. Initiating physical contact with him was a risk, but you’ve yet to notice any consequences. 

While considering the best methods, an epiphany sinks its claws into you. 

You bite your lower lip. “I’m— um. Getting ahead of myself. After what happened, I understand if you don’t want me in your head.” 

The terms of atonement crafted by your own hands can’t be sufficient penance. 

“Multiple influences have fought for control of my mind,” he reveals. Your breath catches in your tightening throat. This isn’t a wound you’ve inflicted, it’s a wound you’ve reopened. Mara’s madness, Kafka’s adjustments; how much tampering has he been subjected to? There have been foreign elements inserted and his original self shifted around, if not removed entirely. His psyche is strung together like fraying patchwork. 

You don’t know what to do. Should you apologize again? Leave him be? Form some sort of arrangement where he doesn’t have to interact with you directly? 

These frantic thoughts halt when you examine his profile. 

Blade isn’t stewing in animosity or grief. He’s simply sitting there, living in the present. Swarming torments don’t caw and peck at him. He isn’t smiling, but his facial features express contentment, the way a laborer would after a toiling day. Flowing with the current instead of struggling against the tide. 

“Out of all of them, though,” 

The brilliant luster of his eyes takes you hostage.

“Yours… wasn’t so bad.” 

Unknown 

You’re there, aren’t you?

Unknown 

Don’t be shy and ignore my messages. 

Unlike some people, I’m busy 

Unknown 

I assure you I’m busy with various preparations too.

Unknown 

Never too busy to check in on my favorite Arbiter though. ♡

Unknown 

Did you like the roses? 

I would’ve liked them more if they weren’t from you 

Unknown

💔

Unknown

So, it’d be different if they were from someone else? Hm… I might get jealous if that’s the case.

It wouldn’t make much of a difference, anyway They’ve already wilted

Unknown

That’s a shame

Unknown

I suppose what I find beautiful doesn’t suit Eris’ climate very well

Unknown

I know you’re not going to respond anymore, so I’ll stop pestering you for now

Unknown

Take good care of yourself, little Miss Arbiter ♡

It’s become a tradition for Lear to join your and Nona’s training sessions. She’s in her highest spirits when the three of you are under the same roof, even if you’re all doing different things. Presently, Lear is replacing Loopy’s hardware with an older operating system. The latest update downloaded automatically and fixed the bug that caused your favorite robot’s premier quality. Having a robot named Loopy who no longer loops is inconceivable. 

Since the LOTUS-EATER is closed for the foreseeable future, you accepted Nona’s idea to have her training on the first floor rather than the second. According to her, The Lounge has ‘distracting’ vibes, so you hoped a change in scenery might recenter her. 

However, you’re beginning to seriously question your judgment. 

“Lear, can I please have a drink?” 

“Lear, don’t pay her any mind. She needs to be sober during her training.” 

“Sobriety is a concept invented by the prohibitionists!” 

Lear’s attention darts between you, standing imposingly with your arms crossed, then to Nona, who mimes what she must think to be a sympathetic countenance. 

“Um…” he trails off. Unable to withstand the immovable object and unstoppable force, he retreats to the motherboard he’s been working on. “I’m technically not on the clock, so I shouldn’t handle merchandise that doesn’t belong to me.” 

Nona wads up a piece of paper and throws it at him. 

It misses. 

By a lot.

“Stop pestering Lear and take your assignment seriously,” you frown. Then you realize what paper she used as ammunition. “Hold on… don’t tell me you just crumpled up and threw correspondence from Chrysus.” 

She shrugs. “That discount hound probably didn’t have anything worthwhile to say, anyway.” 

“Is Eris’ future not ‘worthwhile?’” 

“Not if we hop on a spaceship and never look back.” 

Lear sets his tools aside, unfurls the letter, then returns it to you. Nona sticks her tongue out at him and he flips her off.

… Maybe you need a drink.

“Hey, Stellaron Hunter,” Nona waves her arms wildly. “You must have a ship, right? How about it? Got room for three more? It wouldn’t even disrupt the arrangement. You can keep watch over [First] to your heart��s content.” 

The ‘Stellaron Hunter’ in question has stationed himself on a barstool, where he blatantly ignores Nona’s request. He had been standing against a far wall as you’ve learned he’s apt to do, but this made you feel bad. After some needling, he caved and sat down at your behest. It’s been a little over a week since your conversation on the balcony. Your free time since then has been sparse. An injury doesn’t make your work disappear, it just causes it to pile up higher. 

In light of what Chrysus deems a terrorist attack, you are to have a hearing with him and Caicias. Blade staunchly refused any request for you to meet them in person. For once, you agreed with the strict measures. The nectar guide has been repaired, but the mere chance that more people could be injured at another attempt on your life is unacceptable. After some bureaucratic back and forth, it was agreed upon that the risk of a cyberattack would be the lesser of two evils. 

Chrysus insisted on handwritten correspondence delivered through trustworthy sources until the hearing. The message Nona flung consisted of him tiptoeing around every serious query you’ve brought to his attention. Your most burning question concerns the residential district’s building inspections. More specifically, how the dire reports never made their way to you. 

Initially, you thought it may have fallen through the cracks. Your mother’s sudden death two years prior plunged Thelx into chaos. She wasn’t expected to retire for another fifty years. As such, you were woefully underprepared for the mantle forced onto you. She hadn’t even told you the passcode to unlock the LOTUS-EATER’s front doors. Data restoration from some old hardware she never disposed of provided enough login information for you to keep things rolling. That theory crumbled when you recalled that in 2150 AE, building permits and inspections were made to be public records. 

Upon checking, from 2150 AE to the present, everything has supposedly been up to code. 

The employee who signed off on the inspections is under an Ade company, which falls outside your jurisdiction. 

You wrote to Chrysus detailing your concerns. His response can best be summarized as him telling you that he’ll handle it. 

That did little to put your doubts to rest. 

“I’m telling you, this is impossible,” Nona grumbles. “Can you reset it?” 

“I’ve already reset it four times.” 

“Well, you know, fifth time’s the charm.” 

You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve sighed throughout this training. 

“Let’s not give up so soon, okay? Which part do you feel is impossible?” 

You sit down beside her to get a better look. The blue, holographic screen fills you with nostalgia. This program was developed by a retired Arbiter to aid in their training. Essentially, it generates a ‘person’ with traits indistinguishable from their flesh and blood counterparts. Physiology, disposition, every experience they’ll go through from birth to death; it misses no detail. 

The trainees are supposed to go through the steps as if they were interacting with a client. They must establish a link by piecing together the simulated psyche, giving it an interactable form. 

Nona’s a rare case. Most Arbiters struggle with establishing and maintaining Synalinks, an area she excels at. It’s the first step that presents an issue. She has a difficult time establishing links. It’s a foundational part of the process that can’t be haphazard. 

“He’s so whiny. He’s a bigshot vocalist, traveling around the galaxy to sold-out shows, and he still complains that no one will ever ‘understand’ him or his art when even he doesn’t get it! He’s just coming up with fake deep lyrics.” 

“Did you look at the childhood fragments? For insecurity, that’s a good place to start.” 

“Oh, don’t get me started on that,” she grimaces as if she bit into something sour. “He came from old money. Opera star for a mom and a successful businessman for a dad. He wanted for nothing. But no, apparently he still needs to change his profile picture to black and the about section to ‘gone’ whenever he wants attention.” 

You pull up a critical childhood fragment. “Here you can see his father leaving a recital early to take a phone call. Then, after the performance, his mother is quick to point out the areas he needs to work on.” 

“So? He was screwing around on his phone during his singing lessons, what did he expect?” 

“Consider what happens when his tutor leaves. His face falls and he’s fighting back tears. He’s acting out to get the attention his parents don’t give him. The tutor is older and in a position of power, which makes him a perfect surrogate.” 

“That happened when he was six, though. He’s had decades to get over it.” 

“Even if that were true, it wouldn’t make a difference. A person’s experiences are real to them. Say I think there’s a hidden compartment in my bedroom due to the wall making a peculiar noise. I have lived my entire life believing this. If you saw that fragment while trying to piece my psyche together, then dispute it because you know there’s no hidden compartment, there’d be disunity. Every belief, no matter how small, connects in a complex web. Why did I make that inference? Did I read it in a book? Did my mother scare me into following curfew by saying a secret monster hiding there would get me if I stayed up too late? The mind is a fragile thing and we must treat it as such.” 

Nona puts her hands up. “Alright, alright, geez. Make sense of the events through their lens, not mine. Got it.” 

Unexpectedly, it’s Lear who speaks up next.

“What would happen if those fragments were altered?” 

You place a hand on your chin. “It’d depend on the fragment’s importance. In the example I gave, it’d cause friction in maintaining a link, but it wouldn’t fundamentally change everything I’ve ever known. As for a fragment more significant, well… I’m not sure.” 

“You aren’t?” 

“Without credible data to pull from, I’d only be speculating.” 

A frigid draft whirrs through. You shiver. 

“You’re better at this than I am, Lear. Wanna switch places?” Nona asks.

Lear stands up, his palm covering his mouth. It’s as if the vitality has been drained from his face. He transitions through multiple expressions, each more agonized than the last. Your heart twists violently against your ribcage. You want to call out to him, comfort him, but there’s no combination of words that’d douse the raging fire. 

Is it happening again? You think. No… this has to be the worst one yet! 

It’s before you again. 

A simple stage in a modest auditorium. 

There are no performers or stagehands. The lights in the theater are dim, the chairs are folded up. Pamphlets clutter the ground in disorganized heaps. Looking up, you realize they’re falling from the rafters like rain. One lands by your feet. You pick it up, squinting to make sense of the words. It’s a playbill advertising a show titled The Idiot. 

Directed by

ANIA PHAEALES

THE CAST

(In order of appearance)

The Servant…………………………………………………………………………..UNNAMED

The Fool…………………………………………………………………..…………..UNNAMED

The Coward…………………………………………………………………………...UNNAMED

On and on the list goes, ascribing every unflattering role to an unknown party. 

Mother’s name is here? Why? Was she that influential over Lear?

Spotlights flick on. Hot streams of light illuminate you in a blinding assault, which you try to block with your hands. The light’s intensity overpowers your meager attempts. A spectral crowd cheers, rousing applause and whistles emanating from empty chairs. Champagne glasses clink, men guffaw deep from their diaphragms, and women shriek like banshees. 

It gets hotter and louder, again, then once more; suffocating you in a cacophony of sensory stimuli. 

The audience makes passing comments. 

“... A shame, it couldn’t work out…” 

“Though what did they expect, truly…” 

“... Know how it is…” 

The finale rings crystal clear.

“Some people born will die never knowing love.”  

A wet, metallic-smelling substance drips from your nose. The softness of a rag replaces this feeling. It remains there, tickling your senses. There’s that floral scent again — subtle and pleasant. The flower it’s derived from may be toxic, but the strands of vermillion that curl outward like spider legs look so inviting. The petals are streams of blood frozen by time. Every time they wither, they’re forced to bloom again, perpetuating a cycle from which there’s no escape. 

You’ve seen sunsets in pictures. There are two of them glaring down at you now, circular, as if viewed through a looking glass. 

“How pretty,” your words blur together. “‘ve always to see… a sunset…” 

You never will, though. Eris is far, far away from any brilliant stars. The aloof night sky will be your lullaby and your dirge. 

Sluggishly, you sit up. You’re on one of the nice leather couches in The Club. A headache thumps in your head like a landlord who raps against the door of a tenant late with rent. You’re about to stand when an authoritative voice stops you.

“Stay still.” 

You open your mouth to protest. Blade must know your demeanor when you intend to be petulant, for he cuts you off. 

“That wasn’t a request.” 

You murmur something incomprehensible and melt back into the cushion. Regardless of your obedience, Blade stands close, as if you’re planning to bolt, trip on an uneven floor panel, then hit your head and die instantly. Glancing around, you note no one else is here. 

He follows your eyes and accurately surmises your intentions. “The quiet one ran out and the noisy one ran after him.” 

Any other time, that deadpan delivery mixed with his personal interpretation of Lear and Nona would’ve made you laugh. Presently, though, you’re fighting off a headache that outclasses every other that’s come before it. Top of the class and then some. It helps to know that Lear won’t be alone. Why exactly he experienced such an intense emotional eruption is a mystery to you. Then there’s the chaotic state of his psyche to consider; if you were disoriented from the aftershocks, the epicenter must’ve been cataclysmic. 

You’re so swept up in your thoughts, that it takes you a while to notice how Blade’s been staring at you. This in and of itself is nothing new. He’s been your shadow ever since forced this arrangement. It irritated you at first, but that blistering offense eased into acceptance. His vigilance felt befitting of a guard. Taking in your surroundings, assessing any threats; such is his prerogative. 

How he’s eyeing you now feels different. It’s as if he’s looking through you, not at you. 

“Is something wrong? You’re making such a scary expression,” you joke. 

No visual reaction. 

“I’m waiting for your explanation.” 

“About…?” 

Blade doesn’t bother hiding his displeasure. He glowers down at you, the difference in your height further exacerbated because you’re sitting down. 

The impromptu staring contest comes to an end when he speaks up, his voice carrying less hostility. 

“That idea you proposed,” he begins, moving back to return your personal space, “Are you still willing to try it?” 

He has to bring this up now of all times? You don’t want to loudly announce a deeply private matter, especially if there’s a possibility the information will make it back to Kafka. Your best shot is to downplay the severity of what you went through. He might be doing his job, but you don’t want him cordoning off Lear as a precautionary measure. You don’t blame Lear in the slightest — this punishment is appropriate for your past hubris. 

“Of course.” 

“I accept your offer.” 

Ah, you think. So this is the game he’s going to play.

“In that case… when should we get started?” 

You can guess his next sentence before it comes out. 

“I’m ready whenever you are.” 

Nona

hey hey

Nona

we’re all good here

Nona

lear’s quiet but he’s doing better. he keeps apologizing 

Nona

i thanked him for causing a scene and getting me out of class 

Nona

he kinda maybe let out a sound like a laugh

Nona

i’ll be hanging with him until things simmer down a bit more

Nona

man. i have to say though. sword guy had the most abominable vibes when it all went down

Nona

i yelled at him that if he hurt lear you would turn his mind into goop

Nona

soooo if you wouldn’t mind please tell him that was a joke and that i don’t deserve to get stabbed on sight. 

Nona

anyway. take care of yourself. call me when you feel up to it

It took three hours, a couple of painkillers, and more glasses of water than you cared to count to be ‘ready.’

You change into formal garments, consisting of an ivory gown that flows down to your feet, and a chiffon, indigo cloak that encases you from your shoulders to your knees. You fasten the heavy fabric into place with a broach your mother wore when she served as the Exalted Arbiter. It shows different stages of a moon, connected by four silver spokes. The highest point is the first quarter moon; to the right, the hollow outline of a new moon; the lowest point, the last quarter moon; then lastly, the full moon is to the left. 

Blade sits across from you in the chair designated for clients. He’s silent as you make your preparations, his eyes following you like a haunted painting. His ulterior motives are irrelevant. Inside this room, you’ve carried out your work as an Arbiter hundreds, if not thousands of times. You’ve heard the most clandestine fantasies that wouldn’t even be uttered on a deathbed. Devoid of judgment, you’ve filled your mind with the overflowing desires of their heart, careful not to lose a single drop. 

“Are you comfortable?” 

He nods. 

“Good. Let me know if you need anything.” 

An ornate tea kettle made from Eris’ dark stone sits atop the Nectary’s gemstone. It’s bronze in color and emits a warm, calming glow. Once the water inside is brought to a boil, you pour it into an opal goblet. Next, you add ambrosia leaves that have been ground into a fine powder. It sizzles upon contact with the water. Finally, you procure a vial from a pouch inside your clothes. Four drops of the Necatary’s tonic descend into the concoction. 

“I’ve seen you drink this before,” Blade notes. 

“Now you’ll get to try. Don’t worry, it isn’t poisoned.” 

It could be the low lighting and exhaustion, but you swear you see his lips curl upward. 

“Add however much you please. My only condition is that it works permanently.” 

“It’s a tempting offer. Sadly, I have to drink after you. Maybe another time.” 

After stirring the ambrosia, you hand the goblet to him. His eyes remind you of burning embers. Their radiance fascinates you. You shift in your seat, suddenly conscious of yourself. Has his gaze always held this weight? When he pulls the goblet away, you notice the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, how there’s a pretty sheen coating his lips. 

Where is this onslaught coming from? Why couldn’t it have waited until later? 

You hurriedly take a sip from the goblet. Noct’s ichor tastes sweet and spicy.

It’s tradition to repeat an incantation so as to invoke your slumbering Aeon’s blessing. You’re about to say it, when there’s a cool, smooth sensation against the corner of your lips. Every muscle in your body goes taut as if you’ve been turned to stone by some wicked spell. 

Blade’s gloved finger ghosts over your skin. 

He’s leaning over, still sitting down, close enough that you can see your reflection in his eyes. You see how high your eyebrows have raised, the ‘o’ shape of your mouth. 

“B-Blade?” Your voice comes out like a squeak. 

He says nothing. Goosebumps litter your skin, the hairs on the back of your neck stand. Your heart is a ferocious war drum. Whether it’s sounding an alarm or an invitation, you cannot tell. A beast made in your image has life breathed into it. You thought you slayed it, watched the light drain from its beady eyes, but it’s resuscitating. 

Then again, maybe you’re a fool for thinking lust can stay dead. 

He sinks back into his seat, completely impassive, acting like what he did carried no significance. 

“Some of the drink got on you,” he explains, entirely nonchalant. “I cleaned it off.” 

Being thrown into a furnace wouldn’t compare to the heat ensnaring your body. 

You cough into your hand. “Oh, yeah, that’s— thank you.” 

The awkward jumble of words flounders out before you can stop them. Your lessons in etiquette and oration have hidden themselves, somewhere beyond accessibility, scurrying to the shadows like mice when a cat approaches. If you were to make a list of your dumbest statements, this would make it far in the rankings. 

This time, you’re certain of it. That little smirk. Maybe he’s getting back at you for withholding information earlier. 

Whatever the case, you have a goal you’re determined to see through. You resume the incantation, although your voice lacks assertiveness. 

“To dream is a sacred thing. Don’t fear it. Welcome it, rejoice in it, and shed no tears when it is finished. We’ve been granted your purest blessing. As you slumber, we find rest in you. Allow us the sweetest of dreams.” 

You close your eyes…

… And when you reopen them, the Shackling Prison looms above you. 

This link is far more stable than its predecessor. There’s no ticking timer hurrying you along, you’re free to examine every nook and cranny. You notice how desaturated your surroundings are. The blades of grass closest to the prison blend in with the stone, the only hit belying their true nature being how they sway in the breeze. There isn’t any vegetation or ambiance that suits the surrounding environment. Birds don’t sing, rushing rivers are silent, and bugs refuse to perform their melodies. 

Nothing regresses or progresses; he’s wedged in a constant state of inertia. Your heart aches. 

You make your way to the impenetrable gates. After thinking about it, you hypothesized the seal you previously encountered was an emergency defense he unknowingly created. At that exact moment, Blade didn’t want you puppeteering him. He may be enigmatic, but what you know for certain is that he takes his assignments seriously. The Stellaron Hunters want you alive so he has to as well. 

That’d explain why it acted hostile to your interference. You’ve never established a link in such a high-stakes, volatile setting. You were bound to encounter oddities of some fashion. This explanation reassures you as you get closer. 

Only to ruthlessly get debunked. 

The seal is still here. It’s styled in the outline of a circle, overlapping the doors that keep you from studying Blade’s mara. Frustration floods you. This can’t be Blade’s handiwork. The one comparison is how it emanates steady energy, similar to how he is in a meditative state. The similarities stop there. 

It's grown paler, you realize. Its potency has waned since I’ve last seen it, too. 

To test this, you push against it. 

The gates creak back. 

This gap lets you steal a glance at Blade’s mara. It consists of multiple tumor-like abscesses that writhe against each other, forming a pulsating, fleshy mass. This ebullition isn’t consistent. Different sections have a will of their own. Some try consuming their adversary, others suffocate what’s beneath through their bulk alone. The horror extends down into a pit whose depth you couldn’t possibly guess. Killing, devouring, gorging, and digesting; only to experience a rebirth that will perpetuate the cycle. 

It pushes against the windows and seeps into the structure’s cracks, of which you count many. The mara’s repairing him, vigilant in its upkeep. It is a ghastly glue holding fractured pieces that long for respite together. 

Your intrusion causes it to gurgle and retract. The mara doesn’t break down or weaken, it gradually oozes down like bile in an esophagus. 

The seal repels you, cutting your grotesque investigation short. 

The last thing you see before the gates slam shut is the mara reclaiming its territory. 

…

Blade’s fully conscious while you need some time to refamiliarize yourself with your surroundings. Your head raises its thunderous complaints about how it’s being overused lately. You down a cup of water, careful not to get any on your lips, so your earlier weakness isn’t repeated. 

“Alright. Let me get my thoughts together,” You take a deep breath, then continue, “I only caught a glimpse of your mara. It did retreat after noticing my presence, although I’m not sure why.

Blade doesn’t say anything. You’re beginning to get used to that. 

“And another thing. I didn’t think it was worth mentioning, since everything about our previous link was messy… but this time and the last, there’s this seal preventing me from going deeper. Do you have any idea what that’s about?” 

“You’re the expert here.” 

That must mean he doesn’t. 

“Hah. I’m starting to wonder about that.” 

You don’t mean to sound so defeated. You have some years under your belt — 120, to be exact — but you’ve realized how many areas you’re lacking in. Nymphalians live anywhere from 500 to 700 years. Your mother was 200 when she’d been anointed as Eris’ new Exalted Arbiter. She tried stamping out the quiet pride your prodigious abilities instilled in you. All it did was form a gaping chasm neither of you ever tried to mend. 

You have the materials now, but it’s too late. There’d be no one waiting on the other side once you crossed.

Blade leans forward, presses his elbows to his knees, and rests his chin on his fists. 

“Would it help if you touched me?” 

You shoot up straight from your chair like it just stabbed you. Heat infuses into your cheeks, then spreads throughout, momentarily stupefying you. His monotonous words loop in your head. How can he sit there so collected after making an insinuation like that?! Especially when you’re not at your top performance. 

“That’s highly inna—” 

“You avoid skin-to-skin contact,” he interrupts, his visage unreadable. “The one time you didn’t, you made it far.” 

It’s a mistake to underestimate his perspicacity just because he doesn’t actively flaunt it. 

“What did you think I meant?” 

Why can’t his voice have a little more intonation? If he’s being playful, his delivery is too dry for you to tell. 

“Nothing, nothing at all,” you sit back down and cross your legs in an attempt to look professional. “What you’re referring to is a precaution my mother suggested. In the past, strange reactions have occurred after I came into direct contact with someone. Not always, though. No one could determine the how or why.” 

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Honestly… you Stellaron Hunters should’ve just waterboarded me, you would’ve gotten this information faster, if that’s the objective here.” 

“Lie if you want.” 

“I don’t want to lie to you,” you admit. He knits his eyebrows together, an act that accentuates the dark lines beneath his eyes. “You deserve to understand what I did. If I hadn’t resorted to that, it’d be different.” 

“Hm.” 

No one can ever claim Blade doesn’t have a way with words. 

Suppressing a yawn, you refocus the conversation. “I think we made some good progress here. I’m willing to keep at it if you are.” 

“No. That’s enough for now,” he says. “Go rest.” 

“Eh? I can keep going, though.” 

“I know. Rest anyway.” 

Your body is letting you know that it’s finished, your exhaustion has crossed the semi-tolerable threshold to unbearable. There’s a hearing to prepare for, Nona and Lear to reach out to, and about another million odds and ends. This flurry of activity won’t get done any faster if you’re crawling around like a host controlled by a parasite. 

“... Fine, have it your way. Lear’s always getting on me about my sleeping habits too.” 

You sense an irregular fluctuation from him. However, there’s no shift in his body language, so you decide it isn’t your place to pry. 

“Blade?” 

He turns his head toward you. 

“This ability of mine, it’s only ever provided entertainment for others, which is fine, of course… but… the chance to help someone directly… is a first,” you give him a bashful smile. “Thank you for trusting me. I mean it.” 

For a brief moment, his gaze doesn’t feel so intense.

Nona

hey hey 

Nona

please tell me the sword guy didn’t confiscate your phone. if that’s the case it’s so over

Nona

i’m not going up against him to get it back

It’s me texting from [First]’s phone. I remember what you said about the brain goop. Lock your windows and sleep with one eye open.

Nona

!!!

Nona 

gg

Nona

oh btw. the dust has settled

Nona

it’s weird… this doesn’t happen for years, then suddenly, twice in such close succession? 

Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that too I don’t get it

Nona

welcome back from being held hostage btw

Wow thank you

Let me know if you both need anything I actually have no idea how I haven’t passed out yet

Nona

it’s because you haven’t given mushroom mania a chance. their music is so chill

Nona is typing…

Please don’t spam the link to their album again

Nona

alright fine whatever

Nona

i am bored though if you want to play connect four hmu

Nona has invited you to play Connect Four™©®.

Nona

[first]? come back my queen

Nona

wow you fell asleep fast </3

Nona

rest up. you deserve it

There are two monitors in front of you.

To the left is a man with a graceful physiognomy — Chrysus Ophídion. He has hair white as snow, pulled back into a long ponytail that stops at his lower back. His eyes are sharp, cunning, hidden behind thin glasses that reflect his monitor’s shine. He’s already asked you the questions courtesy demands, such as your health and how the LOTUS-EATER is faring during the IPC travel ban. 

“It’s nothing but a power play,” he had reassured you. “I’ve had productive negotiations with their chief financial officer, he’s insinuated that a proposal to remedy the dispute isn’t far off.” 

While you’d often be remiss to take Chrysus at his word, there is one sacred objective he’ll never work against — money. 

He isn’t exactly subtle. His office’s backdrop is a hulking conglomerate; a screen that shows everything from graphs of Eris’ most prominent businesses to stocks throughout the universe updating in real-time. There must be around a hundred different squares dedicated to this flashing panoply. Before Chrysus’ repurposing, it was a wide window from which one could view Eris’ mountain range to the northeast. Your mother detested the change and the room itself. 

Then to the right, there’s Caicias Rex. He’s a burly, bearded man, with dark hair going silver from age. Rumors have been circulating that he’ll announce his retirement on his 500th birthday. Between the two, you prefer dealing with him. Caicias isn’t verbose or prickly. If anything, he’s a little too brazen. 

“How are you holding up, little Miss Arbiter?” 

Caicias’ gravelly voice is at a deafening volume, made worse by the fact you’re using in-ears. His microphone peaks at its own leisure. 

“Caicias, please, your microphone,” Chrysus grits out whilst wincing, “Did you not have your assistant set it up beforehand as I suggested?” 

You both take out your in-ears before he responds. It’s loud enough that you can hear what he’s saying even while holding them far away. 

“Oh, the dial’s screwed up. Alright. There. Any better?” 

You put your in-ears back on. “I believe so.” 

“Great! Let me repeat myself then. Are you feeling any better? Ready to do all that mind magic stuff?” 

“I’m doing much better, thank you. If you’re referring to my capacity to establish links, I haven’t encountered any issues so far.” 

Caicias takes a moment to respond. “That way of speaking, your posture… you’re the spitting image of Ania.” 

The call falls silent. While you’re thinking of something to say, Chrysus takes the initiative himself. 

“May Noct grant her blissful rest,” he repeats the platitude you heard spoken aplenty at your mother’s funeral. “I apologize for changing the topic so abruptly, but there’s a sensitive matter at hand to discuss. I ask that you both listen until I’m finished without any interjections.” 

Sensitive? What could he possibly mean by that? 

You feel a churning in your soul. 

“Thank you. As you’re both well aware, the position of Ade’s Exalted Regent isn’t limited to operating as Eris’ primary treasurer. Caicias and the belated Ania Phaeales agreed to my proposal to form a coalition that’d combat Eris’ uptick in crime decades prior. The coalition has seen great success. 

With Miss Phaeales injured and Mister Rex preoccupied with investigating hazardous mining conditions in the Nectary, I was appointed head of the Thelx nectar guide bombing investigation. My team and I have spared no resources in uncovering the culprits behind such a senseless act of violence. 

Initially, we turned our attention toward the IPC. At this point, we’ve found nothing to implicate them. On the contrary, evidence from the preliminary investigation suggests the involvement of Arc citizens. I am well aware of the prejudice certain people have against those who come from Arc, so I wanted to be absolutely certain. You’ll both receive digital copies of the documented evidence, but for the purpose of this hearing, I’ll focus on the most relevant evidence. 

Through data restoration and witness accounts, two main suspects have been identified. Felix Laurence, a nectar guide engineer who was granted Thelx citizenship by Ania Phaeales, and his nephew, Ryker Laurence, unemployed. A standard employee-issued passcode assigned to Felix accessed the NGT, or Nectar Guide Terminal, three cycles prior to the incident. Logs show he spent considerable time eyeing the schedule of the cycle when Miss Phaeales was to depart.

Felix’s co-workers have corroborated that he offered to take their shifts, as the trip was scheduled on a cycle he doesn’t work. His offer was accepted by the second person he asked. Audio logs recorded in the common area corroborate this. Surveillance places Felix’s arrival at 0100 hours, where he claimed that an emergency malfunction notice was sent to his pager. The NGT confirms no such notice was issued. 

The fragments recovered from the explosive device show it to be the kind that activates on contact, which simplifies the installation process. Felix is seen returning at 0112. Co-workers report he seemed ‘unlike himself’ and was drenched in sweat. Miss Phaeales’ cabin departed at 0200, the tragedy occurred at 0223. A reconstruction of the device reveals a minor malfunction that delayed the device’s detonation, a blessing from Noct, I’m sure. 

The Laurence residence was promptly raided, where materials matching those inside the explosive crime were located. Testimonies from those who know Ryker attest to his hobby of making strange contraptions that never work as intended. I have personnel ready to detain Felix and his co-conspirator Ryker at a moment’s notice, in compliance with Eris’ No Involuntary Confinement Act, where they’ll be extradited to Arc unless they make an appeal.” 

The pictures of the two suspects take up Chrysus’ screen. Caicias strokes his beard while viewing them, whereas you remain motionless. You remember the name Felix Laurence. You attended the event where his special citizenship was awarded, some twenty years ago. What could have driven him to this? Where did you fall short? If it was your mother in charge, would things have gone differently? Chrysus, Caicias, Kafka… none of them take you seriously. They consider you a child playing make pretend. 

Is that not what you are? 

Mother would’ve held her own if Kafka tried coercing her. 

She would’ve found out about the building inspection dilemma through her own channels. 

Blade’s seal, his mara — she would’ve helped him better than you ever could. 

But she can’t. She’s gone and you’ll never be her. 

“I understand it’s a lot to take in,” Chrysus states. It doesn’t sound like he means it. “In truth, the account I gave is highly summarized. I felt I owed it to Miss Phaeales before I arrived at my next point.” 

“... What do you mean by that?” You ask. 

“It became clear to me that an investigation like this couldn’t be limited in scope. For instance, how did Felix know Miss Phaeales was due to use the nectary guide at that specific cycle and that specific time? As I said earlier, he accessed the NGT, but your name isn’t visible there. Only the Director of Operations knows when you’re set to travel. All Felix would’ve been able to see is that a private cabin was scheduled to leave at 0200, which isn’t a rare occurrence.” 

“Please place aside certain biases to the best of your ability,” he says. “Ryker’s correspondence these past two years showed some red flags. Specifically, he had frequent correspondence with an unknown person whose IP was traced back to the LOTUS-EATER. These conversations were largely written in code, but from what we’ve decrypted, this unknown person has been leaking information about you and Ania Phaeales. Based on available information, it’s highly likely that this unknown person is who you refer to as ‘Nona.’”

Caicias closes his eyes and exhales. 

“That… that’s absurd,” your voice is weaker than a breeze. “There’s no way I’ll accept a baseless accusation like this.” 

“Allow me to once again request that you place aside your bias. Nona, whose birth name is unknown, was born and raised in Arc’s most hostile faction. At the self-reported age of 74, she submitted a request for Thelx citizenship. Your mother, in her benevolence, granted the request due to seeing Nona’s potential as a future Arbiter. Do you deny any of this?” 

You think you might be sick. 

“... No,” you grit out. 

“Why would she suddenly abandon an extremist group and request citizenship in Thelx, a quadrant they’re especially hateful towards? Or, did this faction see an opportunity in Nona, who was widely known to have a talent close to yours in establishing Synalinks?”

“Little Nona is what, 113 now? That’s a long time to be acting as a double agent,” Caicias points out. 

“Can indoctrination like that ever be fully deprogrammed?” Chrysus challenges. 

Your horror gives way to an icy rage. 

“If you’re determined to pursue this ‘lead’, so be it, I guarantee my staff and I will fully cooperate. That doesn’t mean you can implicate one of my Arbiters for such a serious offense with nothing but circumstantial evidence.” 

Chrysus sighs. “I’m sorry you see it that way. You’re right that there’s no direct evidence yet — I bring this up to err on the side of caution. It’d deal a severe blow to Eris if anything happened to the Phaeales bloodline. Is it at least fair to say that out of everyone at the LOTUS-EATER, Nona would be one of the most familiar with your itinerary? Did you tell her about your trip to Perianth II?” 

You draw your lips in a thin line. You had told her. 

“Alright, Chrysus, this isn’t an interrogation. This is Ania’s daughter you’re talking to,” Caicias frowns. 

Ania’s daughter, huh?

“... You’re right. I just wish to ensure Miss Phaeales’ safety. I got ahead of myself.” 

“There are better approaches. Let’s call it for now. We won’t get anywhere bickering like this,” Caicias says. He steeples his fingers and looks directly into the camera. “Have your men keep watch on those two. We’ll meet back again in a cycle; that should give us enough time to flip through all these documents you’re sending.” 

This suggestion is for your sake and you all know it. Caicias has good intentions, but you’ll never earn the respect necessary for a leader if you back down now. You imagine you’re preparing to establish a link. The steps it entails, how your mind must surrender its solid form. 

“To dream is a sacred thing. Don’t fear it. Welcome it, rejoice in it, and shed no tears when it is finished. We’ve been granted your purest blessing. As you slumber, we find rest in you. Allow us the sweetest of dreams.” 

“It’s alright, Mister Rex. I can keep going,” you reassure with a smile. Your cadence has lost its vibrato and transitions into a steady timbre. Every dissonant note is scratched out to recite the sheet music lying before you. If you’re to get through this, it’ll be the performance of a lifetime. 

“Hm… are you sure?” Caicias asks. He squints, trying to get a better read on you through the screen. 

You consider a conductor’s baton, how it glides through the air, commanding absolute obedience from its orchestra. Your heart, your lungs, the feeling of static buzzing in your head; you demand a decrescendo. 

You might not be your mother, but you can play in the same key. 

“I am. Mister Ophídion, would you please go over everything from the beginning without paraphrasing? There’s a great deal to examine.” 

You’re occupying a space between reality and fantasy. 

Cogency of any kind flees from you. Chasing after it has become tiring, a prospect that instills dread. There’s no affliction worse than uncertainty. You envy fortunate fools who can cling to a belief from their first breath to their last, what a blessing it must be to never reside in doubt’s shadow. 

You don’t know what to think, what to feel, what to do. 

Chrysus had an explanation for everything. The file he’s built up on Nona? That’s standard procedure, anyone in such close quarters with you must be vetted. The employee who signed off on an unsafe building? A full investigation will be conducted, you need only be patient. Why hadn't he contacted you sooner about any of this? He didn’t want to risk any leaks that’d tip off the enemy before he was prepared. 

You don’t know what was worse. Being treated like an idiot by Chrysus or a sniveling child by Caicias.

Ripping your mother’s broach off, you walk over to the balcony’s edge and raise your arm. 

The inky night spreads out like paint spilled across a canvas. This is the only view you’ve had throughout the years — a cold void that never wanted to host life. The nameless planet must’ve counted itself fortunate to have been passed up by settlers. No one will ever want to settle here, it had thought. I will make my surface so terrible that those who come here will certainly die. 

You lower your arm. The broach is set on a table you subsequently push out of sight.

In a way, this balcony is your cell. You’ve sat here and contemplated freedom as any inmate would. What would it be like to feel the sun? Does it burn, does it sting? Is it true that you shouldn’t stand in it for long? What about the sunrise? How lovely it must be for such a sight to be there every morning, greeting you with its gentle colors and soft edges.

You hug your legs to your chest and rest your head on your knees. 

The door behind you opens without warning. 

You don’t need to look to know who it is. You can pick up on his taciturn presence without trying. It’s inevitable, so long as you’ve been exposed to a person enough.

Blade’s footsteps make no sound, he’s almost like a levitating wraith. You assume he’ll take his place on the leftmost chair. It's become an unspoken ritual. Those who have experienced the sun are ever so enchanted by the moon, he’s no different. Rather than sitting down, however, he lingers behind you. You can feel him staring. After a few seconds, he comes closer, so that he’s beside you.

Wordlessly, he holds out a teacup you’ve never seen. It’s porcelain with a glossy finish, boasting intricate blue designs painted along the sides. The inside contains a bloody ocean that glistens beneath the moonlight. The aroma clues you in — it’s ambrosia, just without the Nectary’s tonic. 

“Is this for me?” You whisper, incredulous.

His flat expression seems to communicate, ‘Who do you think it’s for?’ 

You cradle it in both your hands. Warmth seeps through and becomes acquainted with your skin. Likewise, the steam wafts up, tickling your nose. It’s as if the drink is a pocket watch and you’ve been hypnotized. 

Once it’s secure in your grasp, he pulls back. 

Then he starts to walk away. 

He’s leaving? Why is he leaving? 

Your body springs up of its own accord. You balance the teacup in one hand and reach out to him with the other, your fingers fanning out, ready to sink into whatever they can. Everything happens in the blink of an eye. Your free hand succeeds in finding a destination — settling on the abrasive finish of his bandages. 

You feel another texture alongside it. 

It’s smooth, cold, and visible through the interstices of his winding bandages. 

His skin. 

Realizing this, you withdraw your hand in panic. Then you wait, bracing yourself for a brutal rebound. What horrors could a mind like his prepare for you? Would it cross the threshold of mental anguish to physical harm? You squeeze your eyes shut. 

When you find the courage to reopen them, there’s nothing abominable waiting with bated breath to drag you through a mental purgatory. 

Instead of a consequence, there’s only Blade, fixed in place. He hasn’t moved an inch. 

You’re okay. Nothing’s wrong.

You let out a relieved sigh. 

“Let me at least get the words thank you out,” you insist, desperate to refocus his attention. “I… thank you. You don’t have to be… in such a rush…?” 

There’s a beat of silence. 

Much to your chagrin, Blade takes your teacup by the rim and lifts it. You tilt your head. Did he… did he just repossess your drink? That’s a low blow.

“You were about to drop it,” Blade deadpans. “Quit pouting.” 

“Wh—?! I’m not pouting!” 

He raises an eyebrow. 

To think you went through all that anxiety for this. 

“You Stellaron Hunters are the worst,” you grumble. 

“Hm.” 

Fed up beyond measure, you spin on your heel and start walking back to your chair. You deserve an uninterrupted night of listening to depressing music while thinking depressing thoughts. It’s your right, having endured so much lately.

“[First].” 

A chain reaction goes off in your chest. You’ve made it one measly step away and a blackhole threatens to reel you back. His voice, that deep, resonant tone, stirs something inside you, beckons it out to play. He spoke your name. Has he ever done so before? You don’t know. If someone were to ask you the most basic question right now, you’d be physically incapable of responding. 

He doesn’t have to ask you to come back. You do so willingly. 

Blade brings the teacup back down to your height. Confusingly, he doesn’t return it to your hands, nor does he give any indication that he plans on doing so. He’s holding it level to your face. You want to ask what it is he wants from you. It’s best to have everything out in the open, so that no misconceptions arise, and yet, that rational thinking presents itself as a nuisance. You don’t want anything to ruin this moment. The ambiguity entices you and holds your soul captive while the key is within reach. 

Tentatively, you press your lips to the teacup’s edge. 

The emotions teeming inside of him are palpable. They curl around you, these tendrils of unadulterated carnality squirm against your flesh. It isn’t a fair comparison to say you’re playing with fire. No, you’re laying down at an altar as a voluntary sacrifice. 

He inclines the teacup toward you.

It’s a harmonic union between saccharine and spice, a robust flavor that leaves your tongue tingling. He rebalances the cup while you swallow your first sip. Pulling back, you look up at him through your eyelashes.

“It’s delicious,” you compliment. In a coquettish act, you wet your lips as if you’d made a mess. 

His eyes glow like molten magma. 

Slowly, you stand on your tiptoes, both your arms coiling around his neck. You pull him closer and he lets you. Your lips almost connect, only for you to move back at the last second. He tries remedying this by leaning down further. You prove stubborn by dodging him once more. His nostrils flare and he lets out a sound akin to a growl. 

“Aw,” you coo, a condescending lilt present. You twist your head to the side and jut out your lower lip. “Who’s pouting now?” 

He descends on you like a rabid dog. 

His lips are relentless, demanding more and more, driven by a fervor that belies his seemingly apathetic disposition. It isn’t sensual so much as it is voracious. You’re taken aback yet find it titillating all the same. His bandaged hand flies to your nape, then drops lower, following the ridges of your spine. Subconsciously, you arch your back. He shudders at the softness of your chest pressing against him. His hand eventually settles on the back of your thigh, squeezing and grabbing the flesh with blatant greed. Without warning, he hikes your leg up, an act that causes you to temporarily lose your balance. 

Blade’s chest rumbles in a low chuckle. The husky sound sends heat straight to your core, you may have left out a debauched noise if your lips hadn’t been preoccupied. 

Regardless, you won’t let him off that easily. Who knows what he’ll start to pull if you’re lenient. You pull away and glare at him for the infraction. Considering your messy hair, heaving chest, and swollen lips, you doubt you’re very frightening to one of the universe’s most notorious criminals. The mirth dancing in his eyes confirms this. 

“Still you,” he muses. 

You release an audible yelp as he effortlessly picks you up. Manhandling you must be a newfound delight of his, his satisfaction is readily apparent. You doubt he’d drop you, but your instincts aren’t allowing the risk — you cling yourself to him for extra security. It occurs to you that both his hands are in use. Recalling the teacup, you glance around, curious about its whereabouts. You find it sitting beside your broach, perfectly intact. Wasn’t he holding it seconds ago? 

“How did you do that?” 

He grabs your chin and turns your head back to face him. 

“Strange, clumsy, and distractible,” he mutters, though not without a certain fondness. “Keep your eyes on me, girl.” 

“It’s a legitimate question! Also, hold on,” you jab your fingers at his chest in accusation, “I’m most certainly older than you. Are you familiar with the adage, ‘respect your elders?’”

“Are you?” 

“Well, obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t have said it— ohhh.”

He’s gracious enough to wait as you piece everything together. Xianzhou attire, an ability that could reasonably be classified as immortality… 

“On second thought, ideas like that are outdated. They perpetuate a cycle of complacency. Respect is earned, not given.” 

“At the end of the day, past that haughty exterior…” Blade trails off, his lips nearing your outer earlobe. You swallow while he keeps you in suspense. The pointed tips of his canine teeth drag against the sensitive flesh, sometimes sinking down, only to let up before he leaves behind so much as an indent. 

He plays this game for as long as it pleases him and not a moment longer. 

Finally, he bites down, almost eliciting a whimper. It takes considerable self-control to hold it in. 

“You’re something of a brat, aren’t you?” 

He accentuates this remark by grabbing the tips of your hair and tugging them to the side. Not enough to hurt, but enough to give him a canvas to work with. His teeth trail down from your ear to your neck, settling on your racing pulse point. He nibbles at the area just enough to leave behind marks. Meanwhile, your breathing picks up to an erratic pace. You lull your head to the side so that he has unrestricted access. He rewards your obedience with a kiss, soothing the tender area he’s been working on. 

Amazing as that feels, you swear you’ll go crazy if you don’t receive more stimulation. Whether or not he’s aware of this, you can’t say for sure, but you do know that he’s taking his sweet time sucking and nibbling the second place you want him most. In this position, there’s little you can do to encourage more friction. It’s too awkward an angle to grind against him, not to mention how damaging that’d be to your ego.

You tighten your grip around his broad shoulders in what you hope to be an obvious tell. When that doesn’t get you anywhere, an agitated noise slips by before you can stop it. 

Finally, he pulls back from his assault on your neck. “What?” 

How has his voice deepened in pitch?! 

“Just— don’t you want to, you know, inside?” 

“I don’t know. You’ll have to be clearer.” 

This bastard is deliberately toying with you. Huffing, you move back, unsurprised by the sight of supposed neutrality. He might be able to keep his facial expressions in check, but his eyes give him away. There’s no mistaking it. Those are the eyes of a starving beast. The intensity makes you shiver. Whether it’s from primordial fear or lust, there’s no telling. It’s most likely a warped combination of the two. 

This is a feeling you could get addicted to. 

Your dominant hand rises to cup his cheek. Exhaling a shaky breath, you allow the taut muscles in your face to relax. Your leering gives way to something softer. You familiarize yourself with him, running the pad of your thumb over his cheekbones, then lightly kissing the same cheek. His palms dig into you tighter. Acting as if you have all the time in the world, you pepper his face with featherlight kisses, loosely following a line that ends near his mouth. Finally, having arrived at your spell’s conclusion, you place a chaste kiss on his lips. 

You bat your eyelashes in a show of faux coyness. 

“Please?” 

He audibly swallows. 

Testing your limits, you throw in a sly comment. “Don’t you have a soft spot for me?” 

Blade scoffs. He doesn’t say anything for or against your claim, but you do notice how the tips of his ears turn red. 

“If I’d known this was the best way to deal with you Stellaron Hunters, I would’ve considered doing this with Kafka.”

Blade’s eyes narrow into slits that, realistically, should unsettle you. It does to an extent. Especially considering the maelstrom of heightened emotions swirling around him, and, by extension, you. He’s glowering, sizing you and your intentions up. He lets out a harsh laugh, shaking his head while doing so. 

“What a mouth,” he remarks. 

Unbothered by the vitriol, you shrug. “You’re the one who told me to speak ‘normally.’” 

“My mistake.” 

You don’t get to respond — his lips are on yours again. He steps back, somehow mindful enough to input the door’s passcode while never breaking away from you. His tongue doesn’t ask for entry, it demands it. You’re happy to comply. He takes pleasure in ravishing your mouth, tasting the lingering flavors from the gift that brought you to this. 

You’re back on a solid surface after he pushes some writing implements to the side. You decide that this will be the one time you allow someone to make a mess of your desk. He urges your legs open with his knee, a request you’re quick to fulfill. 

His lung capacity must be otherworldly, you have to give his shoulders a push for him to get the hint. A throaty noise leaves him, expressing his disgruntlement at the prospect of parting. Still, he grants you respite. A thin trail of saliva sees to it that your contact isn’t completely severed. 

Blade doesn’t let you recuperate for long. He presses his hard length against your core, creating heavenly friction. You no longer have the means to muffle your noises, which must’ve been his intent. His hands find your hips in a frenzy. He grabs the flesh, pulls you closer, and grinds against your clothed cunt. 

It doesn’t take long for you to teeter close to the edge. The guttural noises near your ear, the steady stimulation, his scent, and shameless thirst for you; everything envelops your head in an intoxicating haze. Your problems that stack high into the sky seem so far away. The stress evaporates away, the tension you’ve held in your body dissipating alongside it. He’s doing most of the work for you. 

Your peak gets closer, you’re right on the precipice—

—And he stops. 

You can’t say you didn’t see it coming. Blade has a penchant for riling you up, delighting in the vivid reactions he gets. 

This cruelty earns him a whine. 

“You’re awful.”

“And you’re impatient,” is his rebuttal. 

“I am,” you agree. You learn that your equilibrium is askew when you get up. After steadying your wobbly legs, you grab his wrist and tug. Your sulking must be more tantalizing than any destination you could take him to. It isn’t until the fifth pull that he relents and follows along. You pull up the lock specifications for your bedroom, inputting that an unregistered person has permission to enter. Your fingers lack the dexterity to complete this adjustment on the first try. 

And the second. 

And the third. 

“Say anything and I’ll… I’ll…” 

“You’ll…?” he encourages.

“I’ll practice celibacy,” is your final threat. 

“Mhm.” 

Your bedroom door opens on the fourth try.

After fiddling with your do not disturb settling, you point to the edge of your bed. 

“Sit there.” 

He takes off his shoes first then listens to your request. You unfasten your outer cloak. The long fabric falls into your grasp and is put aside. You’re left in nothing but your loungewear, a simple button-up shirt and leggings. Turning around, you anticipate an annoying expression to be sprawled over his face. You even have an insult on standby. 

These thoughts crumble into dust. 

Blade’s gripping your comforter hard enough for his knuckles to turn bone white. He’s leaning forward, as if ready to pounce, yet lucid enough to exercise some semblance of self-control. He reminds you of a starved animal trapped in a cage, salivating over a piece of meat hanging outside the bars. Goosebumps cover your body. This isn’t simple lust… it’s visceral, some primitive desire too overwhelming to be understood. 

You’re the one he’s staring at with this unbridled yearning. 

Yes, he’s teased you. Pushed your buttons and riled you up. Not so subtly flaunted the strength that lets him maneuver you like you weigh nothing. You might have status and mastery in your given field, but he’s participated in the annihilation of worlds; the end of civilizations that span back since time immemorial. 

He should be the one in charge. 

Yet as you stand here, witnessing how he tortures himself by not pouncing on you like he easily could, a thought is planted. 

He’d really do anything you asked if it kept this from ending. 

The adrenaline rush this realization brings is enough to turn any cognition you still possess off. 

Your trembling hands hover above your topmost button. Your mattress dips as he slants forward, his fraying patience almost snapping. You hear the leather of his gloved hand creak from how hard he’s clenching it. You shake your head to deter him. The room’s atmosphere has a headiness to it that renders you breathless. Had you seen this expression without context, you’d think he was in physical agony. 

A button is undone for every step you take toward him.

The thin shirt flutters off your shoulders when your knees hit the bed’s edge. 

Blade gazes at your body as if he’d find salvation in it. 

Since you were planning to relax, you’d discarded your bra earlier. The exposure to the cool air causes your nipples to harden. He can’t settle for ogling any one part of your bare torso, his eyes flitter from your collarbones to your chest, your navel, then back up again. You start bending over. His eyes widen slightly. It takes you a second to find where his mind has wandered off since you were just going to remove your leggings. 

“What? Was there something you wanted from me?” You hum. 

If looks could kill, you’d be a goner. 

You decide he’s suffered enough. Your leggings are thrown aside, you’re past the point of caring to be tidy. You both exhale shakily as you sit your clothed cunt directly over his prominent bulge. Your arousal seeps through your panties and onto his pants; there’ll be no pretending that you aren’t as excited as he is. 

“Are you finished?” 

His low, grumpy voice has no business sounding as good as it does. 

You play with his high collar and pretend to ponder. “Hm… I guess.” 

No sooner than the words leave your mouth do you get flipped over.

Blade’s large hands fondle your chest, memorizing how soft and pliable the flesh is for him. He’s quick to remove one so that he can attach his lips to your pert nipple. He sucks the tender area, releasing sounds that’d have you thinking he was the one being pleasured. Meanwhile, his free palm flattens against your stomach. 

You’re lost in a myriad of sensations. His hot, wet mouth sucking your nipple, the cold smoothness of his gloved hand fondling what isn’t in his mouth, the coarse texture of his bandages sliding along your skin. He’s obsessed with your body and it shows. Whether he’s worshiping or desecrating it remains to be seen. 

“Blade, please,” you roll your hips against his so he can get the message. 

He delivers his punishment swiftly — he tweaks one nipple and nibbles the other. 

Unexpectedly, this extracts a mewl from you. 

Blade pulls back. A self-satisfied grin spreads over his face. 

“Poor needy thing,” he chuckles. Your glare doesn’t last long, for he brushes his fingertips over your clothed clit. He draws featherlight circles. “Soaked too. What? Was there something you wanted from me?” 

His reciting of your previous taunt antagonizes your pride. Rather than responding verbally, you try grinding against his stupidly stationary fingers. He holds your hips down to prevent you from misbehaving further. Having not learned your lesson, you try again. He barely needs to exert any more strength for your body to be pinned to the bed as if you were a butterfly on a collector’s wall. 

He clicks his tongue. “Have you forgotten how to speak?” 

“M-Maybe.” 

“Hm. A shame,” he says. He shifts back and parts your legs. You close your eyes as he nudges his nose against your inner thigh, his warm breath fanning over your skin. He leaves a trail of sloppy, open-mouthed kisses as he leisurely makes his way to your cunt. 

“I’ll have to pry other sounds from you instead.” 

He kisses your covered core, once, then twice, a growl leaving him when your hips desperately raise for more friction. Much to your disappointment, he revisits your inner thigh, this time nipping at it. He subjects the soft flesh to the conquest of his teeth. You prop yourself up on your elbows, intending to remove the last piece of clothing that separates you from him. He pushes you back down and mutters something incomprehensible. 

The sound of fabric tearing reverberates throughout your room. 

You’re not left wondering what he’s done for long. Blade pulls you against him by your hips, attaches his lips to your clit, and sucks.  

He’s relentless, almost as if he’s chasing his release instead of yours. His tongue licks from the bottom to the top. He feasts on you, his face pressing as close as he can get. The rapidly mounting pleasure leaves you incapable of forming coherent words or thoughts. All you can think about is Blade, how he’s grinding himself against your bed, fucking you with his tongue. 

Should you be doing this? Are you using him? Is he using you? These pesky little concerns fade into the foreground. 

He slurps your clit like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. Your previous sensitivity has your release imminent. You thread your hands into his hair and throw your head back. Tugging on the long locks in encouragement has him groaning against you, sending vibrations straight to your core. 

Your release builds and builds. The muscles in your thighs tense, your voice elevates in pitch, pleasure diluting your senses. 

“Gonna— mm—” 

You come on his ruthless tongue and ride out your high, ecstasy rushing throughout your body. 

Once you come back down to reality, you realize he hasn’t stopped. Your nerves are sensitive enough to almost hurt. You keen as he messily kisses your cunt. You can’t move your legs and your arms feel like jello. With some difficulty, you urge his head away. Your slick glistens along his parted lips. He greedily licks up the remnants since you’ve deprived him of the source. 

Blade takes off his overcoat. He then removes his golden shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing both garments aside. Next, he undoes the buckle that hangs across his hips. His silver pants join the heap of his clothes not long after. You drink in the sight of his toned figure. You’ve always thought him to be handsome. His sharp jawline, long, silky hair, and those blazing eyes. You never thought you’d get to see what’s beneath his clothes. Scars litter the expanse of his otherwise pale skin, their shape perplexing you. He catches you staring and gives you a look you can’t place.  

“Is it more unsightly than my mind?” 

You push yourself up, wrap your arms around his neck, and pull him close.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you murmur against his lips. “All I see is a handsome man who I want to fuck me senseless.” 

“Hm. There’s that mouth again.” 

He kisses your forehead while bringing you back down to the bed. Once your head is on the pillow, he lines himself up at your entrance. Abundant pre-cum leaks from his tip, which he smears against you, stimulating your clit in the process. You gnaw on your lower lip to stop a moan from sneaking out. He just barely pushes the head in. As it’s been a while, you hold your breath in anticipation for the stretch to come. However, he doesn’t go any further. He's just staring at you, his eyes like that of a madman. The intensity has you averting your gaze. 

Your cheek barely grazes the pillow before he speaks up, his tone chastising. “[First].” 

You feel your walls clench around nothing. 

Sheepishly, you turn your head back to face him. 

“That’s all it takes, huh?” 

You guess it did work for him twice. It isn’t your fault. Hearing someone call you by your birth name is rare. To everyone else, you’re a title or notable last name. You aren’t an individual. The characteristics that define you remain purposefully hidden from sight. You’ll just be another line on a long list, perhaps a topic for disinterested schoolchildren to write a report on. 

“Yeah,” you admit as he gradually sinks into you, “That’s all it takes.” 

He’s thick enough to make you wince, regardless of how slow he goes. Your walls struggle to accommodate his size. He stills until you recollect yourself, taking deep breaths to relax your tense body. The dull ache fades. You nod at him to continue. He pushes his cock deeper, exhaling shakily by your ear as inch after inch slips in. It’s hot and heavy inside you, occasionally twitching. 

Your legs wrap around his waist, eliciting a choked sound from him. Though you’re panting, you still have enough audacity to let your self-satisfaction show. He doesn’t chastise you or revert to teasing. No, he laughs, low and from the diaphragm. The room is almost unbearably hot and still you shudder. 

Blade slides out of you and thrusts back in. The pace isn’t too fast, but he insists on pulling all the way out and filling you to completion again. His pelvis smacks against yours as he fully stretches you. This time, he lets you throw your head back, his teeth sinking into the bruises he left earlier. You hear your headboard hit the wall from how forcefully he fucks you. It’s raw and brutal, but you love it. For once, you don’t have to think or do a thing. All he wants to do is ravish you and you’ll gladly let him. 

Your eyes shoot open when his gloved hand finds its way to your sensitive clit. He rubs sloppy circles against it, causing your walls to clench around his cock. He groans into your neck. This unrestrained expression of the pleasure you’re providing him is almost too much. You never would’ve imagined he’d be so vocal, panting hot by your ear, holding absolutely nothing back. You could spend an eternity listening to him. 

A second orgasm creeps up on you. Your moans and delighted gasps grow loud enough to let him know. He squishes your cheeks in the coolness of his gloved hand, demanding that your attention wander nowhere else. 

“Open your eyes.” 

What he’s asking of you feels personal, almost too intimate. You hesitate for a moment but ultimately give him what he wants. He rewards you by revisiting your throbbing clit, rubbing and rubbing until there are spots in your vision. You chant his name, sometimes getting through the entire word, or barely stumbling through the first few letters. He hastens his pace. 

You clench down on him hard and cry out. 

He grits his teeth from how you tighten around him throughout your orgasm. He fucks you during its duration, not letting up for a second, chasing his own end. His hands clench on your hips, digging into the flesh hard enough to leave bruises. You collapse onto your pillow, your energy spent. He has no problem adjusting you exactly how he wants. Your leg is thrown over his shoulder and you keen at the change in angle. The head of his cock finds a sensitive, spongy area that you hadn’t realized existed. You arch into him and whine. 

“B-Blade,” you whine, barely audible over the sound of skin slapping against skin, “Too much… It’s too much…!” 

Tears form in the corner of your eyes. One trickles down your cheek, which he promptly licks off. 

“I know. Be good,” he pants.

The insults you set aside earlier form on your tongue. They die a swift death again, for his breath hitches and he groans by your ear. 

Heat floods your tender insides. He forces your hips flush against him, his thrusts stuttering and then stopping entirely. Wave after wave of his thick cum coats your walls. It never seems to end — his throbbing cock continues releasing the viscous substance until it has no choice but to form globs that leak out of you. 

Meanwhile, he slants his lips sloppily against yours, almost growling when you whimper. He pulls back and thrusts in one last time, pushing his release as deep inside as it can go. 

You both heave desperately for air. He still doesn’t pull out, even when his cock goes soft. Something tells you he’d be content to leave it there for as long as you permit. 

“My blanket… I’ll have to wash it.” 

“Mm.” 

Blade fixes the strands of hair sticking to your temples. You tilt your head toward his hand. It’s been so long. A small, malicious fragment of yourself taunted how you’ll never enjoy another’s touch again. That your fate would be one defined by solitude. How could you take a lover with such a risk looming over your head? The last time had been disastrous. It haunts you more effectively than any ghost. 

He pulls out. 

The newfound emptiness feels strange. 

Blade rolls off of you and slides his briefs on. You watch his every movement through heavy eyelids. The scars along his chest seem like nothing compared to the amount on his back. They lay heavy along his neck, shoulders, and spine. The off-color stripes are all similar in length and width. Your stomach churns violently as you realize it must’ve been intentional. 

He must know you’re staring, but he doesn’t utter a word as he finishes getting dressed. 

A petal falls from the bouquet of purple roses Kafka gifted.

The slight movement earns his immediate attention, a reminder of how sharp his senses are. 

You grab a nearby blanket to cover your chest and crawl over, curious about what’s caught his interest. 

Blade picks up your crystal lotus. Its multiple surfaces change color depending on the angle he holds it at, refracting the low light in your room. He inspects it with furrowed eyebrows and a frown. 

“That’s from my mother,” you explain. “She was never big on gift giving, but… for whatever reason, a few years before her death, she started leaving me little trinkets like that. I have a whole drawer full of them.” 

You smile as best as you can, not wanting to be a downer. 

“Pretty, isn’t it?” 

His eyes find yours in the mirror.

He nods.

[heartfullofleeches]

The dynamic of fast food reader being the only one to survive the horrors at the restaurant while dozens of human coworkers are slaughtered weekly is so fucking fun

-

Coworker One: How are you guys holding up?

Coworker Two: I keep hearing sobbing from the woods... sometimes it sounds like my dad.

Coworker Three: Something in the ball pit threw a ball at me. I think I have a concussion

Coworker Four: There's a ghost in the ice cream machine....it possessed Dave when he kicked it...sob it made him stick his face in the fryer

Coworker Five: Guys - i really need to go to the hospital. I think the mascot hit an artery....

Coworker One: Take my keys and get them out to my cars... wait, Y/n was on duty today... Where are they?? Y/n?

[Fast Food Reader enters the establishment carried by the weeper, kissing it on the cheek and thanking it for its homemade lunch of deer organs, walks over to the ice cream machine and dispenses ice cream directly into their mouth, takes the bouquet of flowers the mascot offers as it exits the meat locker and gives them to the bathroom succubus, rides across the floor using the janitor's cart, and dives into the ballpit where dozens of hands reach out to massage their body]

Fast Food Reader: Sup-

Coworker One: What the actual fuck - Do you mean to tell me while everyone else around here is getting massacred, you're being pampered by these monsters??

Fast Food Reader: I guess?

Bathroom Succubus: sighs Can't say they don't deserve the treatment

[pillow-anime-talk]

:) you already know 😅 could you do prompt 50 with Kaneki or Urie with fem reader? Thank you, love! Your writing is always magnificent and can’t wait to read this one!

# tags: scenario; current marriage relationship; hot romance; also fluff (kaneki deserve it!); kid!fic, family!au; smut; nsfw

warnings: mention of sex and sexual activities, on the sofa, kaneki wants another baby (breeding), unprotected sex, lactation, sloppy kisses, body worship, bites, pet names

includes: female reader ft. ken kaneki {tokyo ghoul}

author’s note: hii! i wrote about urie for you, so i chose kaneki this time :) i hope you find the plot and tags interesting and you enjoy it. i am also sorry you waited so long :(

50. “S-Stop. Someone is looking at us.”

You breathed a sigh of relief when in the tiny bedroom with two cute beds you could only hear faint snoring and calm breathing. Your (almost) two-year-old daughter had her eyes closed in a white cradle with a pacifier in her mouth, and your five-year-old son was sleeping peacefully in a small bed, cuddled up to his beloved mascot in the shape of a yellow tiger. At the same moment, the very pleasant smell of freshly brewed coffee reached your nostrils, so you just kissed your children on their smol foreheads and then left the room, closing the wooden door behind you. After a while, you returned to the kitchen where your husband was waiting for you.

In his hands there was a black mug with the image of a white cat, and next to his person, on the counter, there was a white mug with the image of the same animal. With a smile, you thanked him for the life-giving caffeine, and a moment later you felt a light kiss on your left cheek. Leaning against the counter, you started a conversation with Ken about light-hearted topics, and somewhere between the first sip of the hot drink and drinking it to the last drop, you moved to the living room, wanting to turn on a movie from the plan to watch list on Netflix app. It was a simple horror movie with a predictable plot and comedy elements. However, the horror faded into the background the moment you started talking again; about your husband’s friend’s birthday party, about household chores, about wanting to go to the mountains, about Ken’s job... There were quite a lot of topics, and the quiet evening and the presence of a few lights hanging on the curtain rod added a pleasant atmosphere between the two of you.

You haven’t had an evening to yourself for a long time; you were busy raising your children and taking care of the house and your husband working hard and earning money for the four of you. Plus, there were many other, unforeseen situations that were often full of emotions, stress, happiness, or great physical and mental effort.

That’s why you needed each other more than usual on this particular night.

The light kiss you received from your partner was full of tenderness and longing. His cool hands touched your waist at one point, and you smiled because of caress, almost melting between the blond man’s fingers.

“... Aren’t you tired, butterfly?” He asked with a slightly raised eyebrow, wanting to respect your possible tiredness and desire to watch the movie to the very end. But you shook your head, giving him a quick smootch on the cheek. Ken took that as an answer and then moved slightly closer to you, while settling your body on the spread out sofa, full of soft pillows and beige blankets. His kisses changed their position in a short moment and now, instead of your lips, his teeth were lightly biting the skin of your neck. A few long seconds later, with his right hand, he pushed aside the nightgown you were wearing and also kissed your breasts, which were still very swollen from feeding the younger child with your own milk. “You’re very beautiful, you know, love?”

Your both cheeks immediately turned red and your eyes sparkled a bit as you felt your panties being slowly pulled down. The long blue fabric stayed in it’s place, as did your husband’s pajama top. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a rather large bulge in Ken’s boxers, but you didn’t comment on it in any way. Too busy touching his body under the material of his clothes, you almost forgot about the condom you kept in several strategic places around the house. So you wanted to reach into the small, mahogany hiding place in the armrest, but your beloved grabbed your hand between his long fingers.

“Maybe you want to have sex without it?” He asked a little uncertainly and a little with hope in his voice; he also couldn’t hide the smile that involuntarily appeared on his lips.

“... Why?”

“Hmm. Wouldn’t you like another child?” He asked, pressing his cock harder against your damp pussy, and you bit your lip, feeling your body heat up even more. “You look very pretty when you’re pregnant, baby.” He added in a light whisper, nibbling on your left ear.

“Oh. Really?” You laughed, and then after a moment of thought, you nodded, retracting your hand and intertwining your fingers with your husband’s.

In a short moment of a few more kisses and sincere compliments about your future pregnancy, you could finally start enjoying your husband’s cock, perfectly fitted to your body, which was entering your wet as fuck pussy with the greatest gentleness. Young man touched specific parts of your body and face every now and then. He adored your breasts, your hips, your neck decorated with several red marks, as well as your deep eyes and lips swollen from pecks.

“Maybe this time we can have twins, huh?” He asked quietly, rolling up your shirt and pinching one of your nipples, and when some of the white fluid came out, he almost ejaculated right inside your hole, thinking about how good you would look with a big tummy and then with another two newborns. “What do you think, Y/N?”

“Mhm… Maybe.” You hummed, your eyes squeezed tightly shut. His fingers wandered through your partner’s soft hair and back, and he held your hips tightly as he bounced against your body. The tip of his cock touching the back of your uterus. You imagined your family growing even bigger and you almost groaned out loud.

However, instead of making any sound between your lips, you heard a slight creaking of the panels in the living room and you opened your eyes at once, looking towards the noise almost inaudible to the human ear.

“S-Stop. Someone is looking at us.” You whispered, your voice hoarse, and then you raised yourself slightly on your elbows, smiling at the five-year-old who was rubbing his eyes with his fists. “W-What happened, Kenji?” You asked your little boy, almost throwing off your husband, who quickly hid under the fabric of the blanket, and you invited the child closer to you.

“...I had a nightmare, mommy.”

“Oh, a bad nightmare? Well then, why don’t you stay here with us and we can talk about something pleasant?” You asked quietly as your son sat down next to you. The boy nodded tiredly and then snuggled closer to you.

You were embarrassed, but with full professionalism, you told a child’s story about dinosaurs and treasure hunting, every now and then sending a glance to your husband who didn’t even know how to react to the situation.

You two will definitely finish what you started, but first you had to take care of your duckling, who – in a short while – will fall asleep.

[divinit3a]

hi!! time for an introduction :3

✸basics

call me pom! }> o _ u ☆ ☆ they/he | 25 | lovefool ☆ artist, hobbyist writer, full of silly schemes fun fact alert! i made my mascot a pomeranian bc that was the first icon i made for my ao3 years&years ago. any pom gets wifi fans left out there?

✸the wares i peddle

art #pom draws || writing #pom writes || memes/goofs #sillies rambles/asks #pom yaps || fic/AU recs #cafe menu ☆ sona / mascot ref

currently writing just keep playing along || #playing along (sfw, BUT tw: violence, mechanical horror) & the mechanics assistant || #mechanics assistant (sfw, BUT tw: robot gore, supernatural horror, haunting hijinks)

asks are open and i am always down to yap ^-^ <3

i enjoy creating reader x DCA scenarios as a mischievous narrator. let me put folks in Situations ^-^ !!! if ya like whatever i do, take it and make your own art/writing!! if you want to use my artwork as icons, wallpaper, etc, you have my permission! i'd love to be asked/informed, tho... <3 just dont repost!! i would be honored to be tagged for any adjacent art/writing... (づ_ど) a dream come true.

i draw sweetness (yay) and horror (yippie) and perhaps, succumb to my urge to animate sound bytes that live in my head rent free.

reblog account!! yay!!! i dont know how to use tumblr anymore, help this grandpa out OTL

✸lay down the law

i rejoined tumblr to hop into the DCA community & make friends! yall are sweet!! ☆

there will be elements of mechanical horror/robot gore, and it will always be tagged as such.

i understand that minors will follow/interact with this blog, though its contents are intended to be (16+) while im happy to encourage young creatives on their artistic journey, im afraid we cant be friends if you are a minor. please unfollow/block me if you need to!

i dont personally draw/write explicit nsfw, but artwork/writing may be scary or spicy. as a treat. reblogs and fic recs will be marked as nsfw/sfw.

blog is intended for FNAF!! sorry, i dont know the webseries... but feel free to still treat my art as whatever u fancy :3 i aint the fun police!!!

other interests i have are: Pokemon, Vocaloid, Sonic, Undertale, Yes Man Fallout NV I Miss you Come Back -- so there might be overlap/inspiration !!!

✸my cup of tea

i love horror, looove, and absolute tomfoolery. silly, surreal situations are perhaps my favorite ones to orchestrate. y/n is simply another barbie on the chessboard ^-^ ;; lets play toyce?

focusing on the robotics. waiter give me ten more please

i adore everyone's AU's and renditions of the DCA!! every time i find a new one i am amazed by ppls creativity!! i am eating every single cake deliciously. i hope to draw fanart of the all the fics i love, but i fear there are many. so many.

✸thanks for havin' me!!

[obsessedwrhys]

UNFORGETTABLE

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ Frank Woods takes you on a date at Burger Town (fluff, cursing, just reader and woods being a lovey dovey couple, reader is fem and also bell in this story, backstory will be explained using the plots of the campaign and seasons, reader experiences side effects from brainwashing, adler never shot bell in this fic!!)

ᯓ★

From being one of Perseus's trusted spies to working for the CIA, throughout your entire life you weren't sure who you really were.

However, it didn't take long for the truth of your past to slowly uncover itself when you and several others were tasked with taking down Stitch. From there that's when you learned your true identity.

Even then, you never felt like that person was you anymore, so you went on the rest of your life with a new name. Your own identity.

Despite the horrors in those events, some good managed to come out of it. You were able to score yourself a loving boyfriend.

Sure, he hates the soviets but you were a different story. Everybody deserves second chances right?

That's why during your mission at the USSR where you two were paired to infiltrate a russian base, he was absolutely baffled when you weren't familiar with the mascot of a famous restaurant he loved.

"Shit, it's Bubby! I fucking love Bubby!"

"Who's Bubby?"

"What?! You don't know who this is??"

"Uhh..."

And that was way before you guys started dating. After everything has settled down and that you two were blessed with free time, he decided it was only right to let you live your new life with a fresh start. That fresh start happen to be through the doors of the Burger Town entrance.

"I can't believe you managed to convince me to do this" You laughed as your boyfriend practically drags you into the place.

"You talk like I'm forcing you to join a cult" He said before letting you stand in front of him to queue up.

"Judging by how much you praise this restaurant, it might as well be" You joked which had him laugh.

"Oh yeah? And would you join if I asked you to?"

"Nope but I might turn you in for some cash" You responded which made him playfully grab you around the waist in an attempt to tickle you.

The second the customer at the front left, the two of you quickly stopped playing around and tried to act normal as it was your turn to order. You looked through the menu. So many interesting selection...

"Double Chili Time Bomb...?" You smirked at Woods who's standing over you. The two of you exchanging knowing glances at a shared memory.

"How about we leave that story in the past" He said almost like he's pleading you to forget it and you found it amusing.

"Because you mistaken a kid's backpack for a bomb and had everyone including me panic for no reason?"

"I didn't rest that well the night before okay. Now what are you gonna order?" He said and you looked back at the menu, going through each meal and being indecisive on which to choose.

There's so many...

But which one is ACTUALLY good?

Hm....

"Did you fall asleep?"

"Shhh" You waved at him dismissively to try to shut him up, but he ended up grabbing your wrist to place soft kisses on your knuckles.

"How about you go find us a seat and I'll order what you want" He said and you looked at him.

"You know I don't like—"

"I know"

"And I hate eating—"

"I also know that honey" He leaned in to place another kiss on your forehead.

"I did promise you a good meal so don't worry 'bout it" He spoke and you gave him a smile of gratitude. Feeling reassured, you eventually left to find an empty table to sit.

You're no expert but you're pretty sure you found a good spot. It's by the window and you guys get a good view of the streets. After a few minutes of waiting, you looked up to find Woods carrying a tray of the food he picked out. You could only watch in awe as he settle it down on the table before taking the seat in front of you.

"You ordered so much" You said.

"They're not all for me if that's your concern" He handed you your burger and you chuckle at his answer.

You remove half of the wrapper around your burger and just from the looks of it, it looked delicious, not to mention juicy. You then looked over at Woods who seem to be waiting for you to take your first bite. You couldn't help but struggle to contain a smile when you wondered how long he was staring at you.

"You look like Mary when she's waiting for us to feed her" You said, referring to your dog. An Australian Shepherd you two rescued from a shelter.

"Is that your way of calling me cute?" He asked with a cheeky smile. His confidence having you laugh.

"Shut up" You simply said but the smile on your face betrayed your words.

Not being able to wait any longer, you took a cautious bite of the burger. You kept chewing on the food but ended up pausing when you realised it was actually good. So he wasn't kidding. You thought and continued chewing but this time faster. Your act easily made Woods eyes light up in satisfaction.

"It's good isn't it?" He asks as he finally eats from his own burger.

"Its sow yummey" You said with a mouthful and he couldn't help but laugh at how adorable he found you in this state.

"Careful, I don't want you to choke" He grabbed a napkin and gently wipe the sauce off your cheek.

Taking his advice and also not wanting a heartburn. You took your time enjoying your burger and swallowing when you wanted to say something. At the same time, he was also enjoying his meal, he was leaned back and relaxed in his own seat.

"What did you get for yourself?" You asked before drinking from your straw. Your question made him look at you.

"Burger Town Classic Burger. You can't go wrong with the original"

"Can I try??"

"Only if I get a bite of yours"

"Deal"

Exchanging your burgers, you quickly took a bite of his and you couldn't help but melt at the taste. The sauce makes it so much better! Seeing you taking another bite, Woods couldn't help but chuckle.

"I'm getting the hint I'm not having my burger back" He said but you simply kept on eating, grabbing some fries while you're at it.

"Why didn't you take me here sooner?" You asked as he drinks from his shake.

"I would have if we weren't getting sent around on missions so much"

"Oh yeah...."

Right as you were about to take another bite, you felt a sharp pain from the front of your head. You wince as you grabbed at your forehead. This catching Wood's attention immediately.

"Shit... you okay?" Woods quickly stood up and was ready to rush to your side but you gestured him to stop.

"I'm good. Just an ache..." You rubbed your temples in an attempt to sooth the pain and it was slowly working.

Once he was sure you won't faint or fall over, he sat back down on his seat with his eyes still watching you cautiously.

"Is the medicine not working?"

"It is, Park just says it takes time since they dosed me with a lot of drugs, but the wait will be worth it..." You hold his hand from across the table to try to comfort him. His hands not hesitating to squeeze back.

It remained quiet for a while until he let's out a sigh. His tone indicating he was upset.

"... I'm sorry—"

"No... don't even start. You didn't know I was being experimented with. You don't owe me an apology"

"Okay..." He muttered but he couldn't bring himself to look at you. It was clear he still felt some sort of guilt from what happened.

Just then, you grinned when you remembered something.

"I never got to say, I still can't believe you beat up Adler when you found out. Mason told me you also punched Hudson when he tried to hold you back" You said, trying to change the mood of the conversation which worked because you could see the corner of his lips twitched slightly upwards.

"Yeah well if they hadn't stopped me I would have killed that son of a bitch" Woods said as he hesitated for a while before finally locking eye contact with you.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me? Fuck... the things I'd do for you..." He chuckles a bit, almost like he's in complete disbelief to the fact he finds it humorous.

You could only beam warmly at his words, feeling loved by the reminder of the memories you two shared.

"... thank you for always taking care of me" You said and it was enough to have him all flustered. He shakes his head slightly with an embarrassed smile.

"Don't thank me for something I'd do for you" He said. Then he reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear before resting his hand on your face to caress your cheek.

"Now come on, let's eat before the food gets cold" He said, reminding you of your burger that has been left unattended on your plate for so long.

"Ugh, I hate cold food"

"I know"

[sugar-grigri]

This chapter confirms that Fake!CSM is the CSM Devil

According to me, according to me, according to me!!! Fujimoto will surely trample this theory but that doesn't stop a little effort of interpretation is always fun

Fujimoto's writing (I'm beginning to understand the character) consists of references, whether to previous chapters or the use of symbolism. Several draw through this part 2, I had evoked the one of the cat, there is also... the birds and the dawn.

You will see that all this has a link with Fake!CSM and proves to me that he is indeed the CSM demon. When he mentioned the sunrise, it automatically reminded me of chapter 111 when Yuko died.

Fujimoto wanted to emphasize the time of day, the morning... without any of our dear characters being awake yet: the dawn marked by the awakening and the singing of the day birds. Fake! CSM appeared at this moment to attack Yuko in order to decapitate her

Now let's think by symbolism.

The bird symbolizes social cohesion at the moment, tying in with others. It was initiated by Bucky, whom Asa hates not for his demonic nature but because he was appreciated by all. Bucky that she continues to crush whether it is when she makes an immoral choice, or when she closes herself in solitude: her nightmare, the social rejection. This is logical since, after the death of this mascot, Asa was harassed.

In the chapter of Yuko's death, there is a preponderance of birds surrounding her, symbolizing the fact that she still has a link with Asa whom she has just left. But these birds might have a connection to Fake! CSM as well.

According to the CSM Devil theory, CSM is as much admired as feared.

This would have given rise to CSM Devil the fake CSM.

There are several points in Chapter 128 that support this theory:

the size of his chainsaws and his size at all. Much larger. As if he was an exacerbated CSM, sublimated in horror.

Given his vocabulary, and his annunciatory manner of address, he also seems to prove a certain intelligence, yet another trait that makes him more powerful over Denji whose contrast is operated by the fact that he wants to take Asa's ass with him. Not to mention the fact that people today may fear Chainsaw Man more than chainsaws per se.

Mostly ironically, the door which is a symbolism that follows Denji enormously is more beautiful, better presented. As if it were his best version in every way, even in terms of the horror that surrounds CSM. An ironic way for Fujimoto to tell us that the trauma will be even worse, and that it evolves. No matter what form it takes.

But why talk about the dawn? What does it have to do with birds? Is he an ally and an enemy?

If Fujimoto refers to the dawn, it is first of all to push to the reading of chapter 111. In this one Yuko confides first of all to Asa: I dreamed of becoming Chainsaw Man! This already inserts the image of following the steps of the hero. To become like him.

Yuko is killed for 2 reasons in my opinion:

Denji in itself had not finished the "job". The goal of a demon is that we fear him because his strength will be proportional. So he has to look invincible.

A reason that can't be conscious: Yuko's impertinence to have taken herself for Chainsaw Man. Her usurper having recalled his rank, by eliminating her.

The birds in chapter 111 would then not only echo the relationship between Asa and Yuko. But would also serve to initiate the theme of social relationships... but para-social. CSM Devil is the result of this fear and paranoia around Chainsaw Man.

And the dawn? Is it simply a symbolism that acts as a hint to the reader as Fujimoto did with the mention of the "bad movies" in chapters 39 and 93? Fujimoto is not content to make the symbolism simply a hint, the dawn must have a meaning. The bad movies foreshadowed the conflict of ideology between Makima and Denji, one wanting their extermination, the other accepting them as a part of existence. Symbolizing the evils of society.

The dawn for me, will be the image that will be associated in itself with CSM Devil. When the dawn submerges, CSM sleeps. The purpose of CSM Devil is not to claim its own existence. It is only meant to act when CSM is inactive, symbolized by sleep.

That's why CSM Devil helps Denji in this chapter. His goal is not to kill or replace Chainsaw Man immediately.

Because he is not Chainsaw Man himself, which is his vector and his reason for being. He's not an enemy, I wouldn't say an ally either, but his interest is that CSM continues to exist.

If I say that he is not an ally it is because I think that in the long term he would like to replace him in order not to depend on him. To devour him, when he has enough strength. And to do that, he has to create fear. And CSM must continue to exist. He is what fuels it. Fake! CSM is a long-term enemy, or a deuteragonist not only of this arc. And that whoever after Asa is another antagonist.

As such, part 1 and part 2 follow each other with the same theme. Love, okay... Relationship with others, okay... But above all: identity.

Who is Chainsaw Man? The teenager that nobody knows in the back? Or the bloodthirsty demon who feeds on fear?

[readypanda]

Indigo Park Spoilers (and very long post) ahead

Since Indigo Park is the newest fandom I've been dipping into, I figured I might as well make my own analysis for the game. The question I'll be discussing today is,

WHAT EVEN ARE THESE THINGS?

(sry for bad picture quality lol)

The thing I find interesting about these mascots (Molly, Lloyd, and what we've seen of Finley) that kind of sets them apart from other monsters in the mascot horror genre is...they almost seem like they're just animals. (I'll go over evidence for this in this post)

Think about it. In other mascot horror games, we've gotten:

animatronics possessed by dead children

employees/kids surgically(?) turned into toys

people mutated by a giant ink machine

animals/people who have had their DNA spliced with a mutagenic chemical

A little girl somehow turned into a monster (I think??)(really sorry Amanda I don't know what you are)

etc.

(I'm not up to date on all these properties and I know there's many more, so forgive me if my lore understanding is less than adequate. you know how it is with indie horror)

The important note about all these is that for the most part, these mascots are intelligent, or at least have the capability of intelligence. Almost everything on this list was at one point human, in fact.

So why do I think Indigo Park is any different? What leads me to believe they aren't intelligent? (at least, the animal versions of the characters that we run from in the game. Whether they are separate from the versions of the characters Rambley interacts with is something I'll touch on later)

I think the most obvious piece of evidence in regards to Molly and Lloyd (again, not much info on Finley yet) is how Lloyd acts. He doesn't talk at all, he just stalks the main character and attacks like an animal might (with the exception of a couple times he stands on two legs or props himself up here and there).

As for Molly, I hear you saying, "But she talks! We hear her speak!" And yes, dear reader, you are right. Molly does speak. This would disprove my argument of the mascots being purely animalistic, if it weren't for this kill screen.

Now, do we ever actually hear Molly say something that isn't a repetition or couldn't reasonably be a repetition? Has she said anything to prove her intelligence at all? (genuine question here because I haven't examined every one of her voice lines lol. If I'm wrong about this then whoopsie!)

Despite the past 250 words of speculation, though, whether they act just like animals isn't actually that important. We'll see more of them in later chapters anyway (or Lloyd and Finley at least) so that will likely prove or disprove this point with time.

The more interesting question is, what are they? Like, physically?

When Molly dies, we clearly see blood around her decapitated head. At the very least that rules out animatronics or something mechanical. In addition, in the audio of the hidden tape you get when you show Rambley one of the collectables, you can hear two staff members complaining about being replaced by "new mascots" right after they "got a new raccoon costume." This could mean a few different things, but it seems to imply that the mascots we see in this chapter are meant to be replacements for actors in suits (for meet and greets, promotion, shows, etc) and/or replacements for limited, expensive, and cumbersome animatronics. If this is true, we can also probably rule out them being human. Unless Indigo Park also had a secret human experimentation lab, which I wouldn't put past them.

I think it's too early to definitively state what these mascots are, but based on the evidence of above, I have a theory.

My personal theory is that these mascots are just animals who have been changed or mutated in some way to allow the park to have more "realistic" representations of the characters (also probably to cut down on the costs of paying a human employee). That would explain why they act the way they do and why they are so violent. They literally are just wild animals who have been warped to represent these cartoon characters.

Another important caveat to this theory is that, if this is true, then the mascots who attack us in the game are most likely NOT Rambley's "friends" as he knows them. That would explain why he doesn't call attention to Molly chasing us or Molly's dead body (with the exception of one very small reaction when he talks about the mascots). You would expect him to seem a little more upset if he thought that was his friend, but maybe on some level he knows it's not really her, just a representation of her.

That brings up another question, which is a can of worms I won't fully open here: Do Molly, Lloyd, and Finley have sentient "AI" equivalents like Rambley? If not, does Rambley know his friends aren't real? I'll let you decide.

Anyway, that just about closes my thoughts on this silly raccoon game. Thanks for letting me ramble on about it, and thanks for making it to the end of the post!

Lemme know about your own theories in regards to what these things are, or if there's any key evidence I missed. Kinda threw this together lol. Most of it will likely get disproven by future chapters but hey, thus is the price of theorizing ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Daylight

Curtis Biddick X nurse! Reader

Summary: A fight between Curt and

Y/n happens before Curt's last mission. But they both don't know that...

Warning: Angst/ sad/ crying/ mention of death/ medical inaccuracies/ mention of blood/

Word count: 1.6k

A/n: I'm sorry in advance

Their relationship was quite new, but what they felt was true. She was a nurse, desperate for a distraction, she needed to forget the atrocities she saw every day. He was a pilot, wanting to forget the friends he lost and the horror that kept him up at night. Together, Y/n and Curt forgot about their horrible job and became happy together. At first, they were just fooling around, not wanting more than what they already had, but time went by and they both developed feelings for the other.

‘’You stole my little spoon!’’ Major Egan said, laughing. ‘’You can have Meatball if you’d like’’ the woman replied, laughing. She was the owner of the dog that quickly became the mascot of the base. The men around them laughed at the comment of the lady. She sat on Curt’s lap; it was a night before a long mission, so they wanted to spend a lot of time together. ‘’We’ll have plenty of time to spoon together in Africa, Bucky’’ Curt said. The boys were going to land in Africa and then, get shipped here again. They would be away for a long time. Y/n smiled and took a sip of her drink. A nurse came running inside the room, looking for her colleague. ‘’Y/n, we need your help, it’s Lucas’’ she panted, out of breath from her running. Her legs reacted quicker than her body, getting up, without even saying a thing and she started to sprint towards the medical building. Lucas was a wounded man that was transferred from another base, he’d suffered from a head trauma and had seizures. The problem was the fact that he had multiple wounds on his body that would open and bleed with each seizure he had. ‘’We gave him medicine, but the seizures won’t stop’’ the other nurse said, while running. ‘’He’s bleeding to death?’’ Y/n panted. ‘’Exactly’’ When they arrived, Y/n saw 6 nurses trying to stop the bleeding and hold him, so he’d stop moving. ‘’How long has he been seizing?’’ she asked. ‘’2 minutes’’ one of them said.

When his nurse sprinted out of the room, Curt knew it was serious, she’d rarely run like that, without asking question if her presence was necessary. When the name Lucas was pronounced, Curt barely blinked and saw that she was running to help. ‘’Who’s this Lucas?’’ Buck asked, looking outside. Before Curt could answer, the Colonel stepped in. ‘’He’s a Major from another base, he was transferred here because his old base didn’t have the necessary equipment to treat him. His injuries are pretty serious, I’m surprised he’s still alive’’ he took a sip of his beer as he finished his sentence. ‘’What are his injuries?’’ Crank asked. ‘’Head trauma that cause seizures. His body is almost opened completely, so every time he moves, he risk bleeding to death’’ A men that was recently discharged responded. Curt only nodded, praying that his girl was okay.

She pushed the door open, gaining the attention of every man in the bar. Her uniform was full of blood, most of the men had never seen this much blood. When he saw her, Curt ran to her. ‘’Are you okay? Whose blood is this?’’ he exclaimed, looking at her body to check for any injuries. Her gaze was empty, there was no emotions showing on her face, she was jaded. ‘’Lucas’’ she mumbled. She looked at the Colonel, who was watching the scene with horror. ‘’Colonel, Lucas’s dead. He was bleeding too much, his seizure was too long’’ she said, no emotions in her voice. ‘’I’m sure you did everything you could, Curt can you go help her change’’ he said, with hesitation in his voice, he didn’t want to upset her. Curt nodded and led her outside. ‘’Let’s get you cleaned up, Sunshine’’ Curt softly said, borrowing Major Egan’s Jeep. He drove to the nurse’s quarters, right now, he didn’t care that men weren’t allowed in, he had to take care of his girl.

She was in a new dress; Curt was sitting in front of her. ‘’Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?’’ He gently said. She shook her head. She was scared, terrified that one day, she’d have to treat his injuries and he would die in her arms. She needed to protect her heart. ‘’I think we should stop seeing each other’’ she breathed out. He looked at her, she had tears in her eyes. ‘’What, why would you say that?’’ he quickly replied, a sense of panic in his voice. ‘’Because we can’t allow ourselves to get attached. Not when you could die tomorrow’’ she tried to speak clearly, but the lump in her throat was making it difficult. ‘’I’m going to come back! I always come back! Y/n I know you’re scared, but don’t shut me out!’’ he tried to control the volume of his voice to not scare her, but he loved her, he wanted to be there for her. ‘’You don’t understand what’s it like to be in my position! Do you know how many dead people I see every day! How many men ask me to tell their wives that they love them? You don’t know what’s it like! Curt I can’t enter this building one day and see you lying down in a pool of blood. I can’t and I won’t do it!’’ she sobbed. ‘’I won’t be dead Y/n! I know you’re scared for me! Don’t do this’’ his eyes filled with tears. ‘’Please, Curtis, if you care about me, if you love me. Let me go, I can’t do this again! I love you, but I hate you at the same time! I don’t want to have your blood on my hands! I hate your job, but I love you! It’s tearing me apart! But I got to protect myself! I’m begging you, please, let us go’’ she sobbed and yelled at the same time. Curt was crying too, he truly loved her. A nurse knocked at Y/n’s door. ‘’Major, you have to go’’ she softly said. It was time for him to leave, it was time for his mission. He looked at Y/n. ‘’When I come back, because I will, we’re going to continue this conversation. Because I’m not letting you go, I love you, Y/n, you’re stuck with me’’ he said, quickly kissing her before leaving her room. Y/n sobbed for hours, she wanted to let herself love him, she wanted to be able to love him without this constant fear of loosing him.

He thought he was going to be able to land this plane in the field, it looked so easy so higher, but when the plane came in contact with higher trees, Curt knew he wasn’t going to make it. ‘’Tell Y/n I love her’’ was his last words before the plane crashed on the ground. His death wasn’t painful, it was quick. The most painful part was to think about Y/n’s reaction. During his last seconds, he thought about her. Her smile, her scent, her voice and everything he loved about her. He felt guilty, he ended up hurting her after all. But all that thinking stopped when his life ended.

Today was a quiet day, not many men were injured, but enough to keep Y/n occupied. So, when she finished healing the men, she went outside to breath fresh air. The sun was warming her up, the daylight was soothing. It rained the hole week, so rays of sunshine were really good. She saw Buck and Bucky walking towards her, they looked sad. ‘’Can we talk to you for a second?’’ The blonde asked. Y/n nodded, confused. They took her to the empty cafeteria. They didn’t know how to break the news. Buck sat down, while Bucky stayed up, he went closer to the woman, in case she would react badly. ‘’Y/n, we – ‘’ she cut them off, tears already rolling down her cheeks. ‘’He’s dead, isn’t he’’ she breathed out. The two men could only nod. ‘’He told us to tell you that he loved you’’ Buck whispered. ‘’It’s not fair, he was supposed to come back’’ she cried. ‘’We’re sorry, Y/n’’ Bucky said. She began sobbing even harder. ‘’It’s not fair! He was supposed to come back!’’ she sobbed angrily. She kept repeating the sentence until Bucky hugged her, he was strong, so his embrace was calming her a little. ‘’ I loved him so much’’ she lamented. There was so much pain in her voice, the two men had to control themselves. ‘’We’re so sorry, Y/n, he loved you so much too. You were all he was ever talking about’’ Buck said, looking at the ground. ‘’I’m such an idiot! I told him I wanted to leave him before the mission! But I didn’t mean it! I was terrified of him not coming back. And now he’s gone’’ she wailed. Bucky kept hugging her until she cried every tear in her body. She eventually fell asleep from all the sobbing. The two men brought her back to her room, where they put her in her bed. Buck told other nurses to look after her.

That day, a part of her soul broke. Curt was her one true love, but she knew he died loving her. Her heart was broken into a million pieces. She would never love a man more than she loved him. He was her soulmate, and she was his. She’d look for him in daylight. He loved looking at it. So, each time a ray of sun came on her skin, she thought about him. They would eventually find each other again in the daylight.

[bathomet-writes]

bursting at the seams

summary: When Raph reveals that he's been wanting a super exclusive, super expensive plush, it's up to you to go on a journey to a not so distant land of horrors to retrieve it for him...New Jersey. Contending with secret crushes and unspoken feelings should be a cakewalk.

relationship: Raph x GN!reader

warnings: romantic, fluff, humor, love confessions, allergic reaction and epipen/needle use (raph eats a peanut..he’s fine tho), sfw

word count: 4,785

author's note: it took a hot sec but here’s the gift fic for @/casualjagodek!! thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to write this adorable fic, i hope u all enjoy!

“That’s it?” You squint your eyes.

Raph looks at his phone screen then back to you. “Is the brightness too low or somethin?”

You breathe out a chuckle. “It’s just that I didn’t know you were getting all worked up over…that.”

It was some kind of stuffed animal of indeterminable origin. It had the head of a cow and the ears of a rabbit. Unconventional, but cute.

You knew Raph had a large collection of stuffed animals. Some from childhood, some he bought only months ago. Recently, he had been subtly dropping clues about how excited he was about something. He’d frantically check emails and ask you what the date was occasionally. Asking him about it outright just made him retreat back into secrecy.

Just last week, you caught him on your way out of the lair. The two of you passed each other in a particularly narrow subway tunnel. You stared expectantly at him while his eyes were glued squarely on his phone screen. You’d never seen Raph this…distracted? Whether he liked it or not, you paid attention to stuff like this. He was your best friend, acting cagey and suspicious for no reason.

You try clearing your throat and kicking at a random piece of trash on the ground to rouse his attention. “Texting someone hot?” You joke.

“Yeah.” Raph responds nonchalantly before blinking his eyes down to you. “Wai— No! No, I wasn’t—“

With a quick wave, you turn to head out again. “See ya.”

You figured even Raph kept a secret or two of his own, so you didn’t pry after that. Living with four brothers and Splinter, you’re sure he never got to have much of a private life.

When he finally (inevitably) let you in on the secret thing he’s been obsessing over, you tried to go in with an open mind. It could have been anything, so the potential of Raph confessing that he had been texting someone hot was miniscule. Maybe they were only sort-of attractive, or better yet, less attractive than you.

You didn’t know why, but the possibility of this hot mystery person existing just didn’t sit right with you.

“Let me see—“

Grabbing his phone from him, you scroll through the webpage. The image of a strange stuffed animal made you mildly more interested. The quality was actually really good, as far as stuffed animals go.

“What is it?”

“It’s, y’know…” Raph hums to himself, trying his best to cover up his embarrassment. “I just thought it was cute.”

“Huginn and Muninn.”

Your eyes widen as you scroll to the top of the page. The logo proudly displayed little gargoyle mascots that you knew you recognized from somewhere. Excitement replaces the jealousy that was festering in your mind just a few seconds earlier.

“Yeah! They started their own company a couple of years ago. I didn’t think they were still around either.” He shrugs.

“That’s crazy!” You hand the phone back to Raph and ramble on enthusiastically. “Well, now I see why you were so nervous. It’s expensive as hell.”

Without thinking, you grab at Raph’s wrist and use your other hand to zoom in on the plush. Once Raph got to the third digit, his heart dropped into his stomach. You were right. Even for his budget, it was steep. Raph didn’t like to splurge too often on himself, but this was a rare exception.

“You’re right, it is crazy,” he chuckles. Your grip on his wrist was also starting to dampen his spirit.

Not because he didn’t like you holding his wrist, or his phone, or his hand for that matter. He actually liked it a lot.

Which was the real problem.

Raph has been massively infatuated with you for months. He lost track of just how long it had been. Whenever he was around you, he felt off. Usually it just involved a lot of fumbling over words, being generally clumsier. He knew he wasn’t as confident as Leo, or smooth like Donnie, or even as honest as Mikey. He was just him.

While Raph anguished internally, you were practically none the wiser. You don’t seem to notice how sweaty and flustered he was all of the sudden, but you go back to innocently staring at him.

You raise your eyebrows. “So?”

That familiar, playful lilt in your voice makes all time stop for Raph. It really wasn’t fair— the amount of power your smile and your presence had over him.

Raph tosses his phone away into the far reaches of the lair before crossing his arms defiantly. “No, don’t try to convince me. It’s literally the most expensive one.”

As you calmly move your head to miss the flying phone, you smile to yourself. “Come on. This is what you’ve been obsessed with for months now. When was the last time you did something just for you?”

“Even if I did have the money, why would I spend it on something so impractical. I mean, I’m not embarrassed about liking stuffed animals or anything.”

While Raph continues ranting and pacing around, you’ve secretly pulled out your phone and looked up the plush. Without hesitation, you add it to your cart and type in your credit card.

“Sure,” you lazily nod. “You’re very secure in your masculinity.”

“Exactly!” Raph spins around to face you again. “I knew I made the right decision.”

“Funny, I was just about to say the same thing. Boom!” You take a confident step forward and reveal the check-out screen to him. At first he seems similarly excited, if a little confused.

“What?” His tone is light at first, before he realizes what you just did. “You didn’t.” A small frown tugs at his mouth.

“I did. Consider it an early birthday present.”

Raph winces, wringing his hands together. “Awesome! No, that’s great. Thank you.”

You purse your lips. “What happened? You were just all—“

What was the big deal? Did you accidentally offend him somehow?

“No, it’s not that. It’s just that the plush is…kinda not in New York.”

“Right. There’s this thing called mail, where people can send you stuff from all over the world.” You smirk, giving him a friendly pat on the cheek. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Didn’t you read it?” He shakes his head ruefully. “It’s pickup only.”

You glance to the side. “Oh. Well, then I’ll just grab Leo’s anime swords— I mean, Leo?”

Shit. You didn’t mean to let that slip out.

“You’ve been using Leo’s odachi to portal places again, haven’t you?”

Feeling cornered, you give a quick nod.

Silence.

You knew Raph must be giving you the most disapproving look right now. You turn around and find yourself to be correct.

“It was just to pick up food! And I am not buying a car.” You huff, trying to hide your shame.

Your shoulders tense up and relax as you give up. “Fine, I’ll just do it the old fashioned way.”

Your compromise doesn’t seem to ease Raph much. In fact, he seemed sad. You stop to watch him fall face-first into the couch. A couple pizza boxes stacked beside it topple over and fall as he lays there.

“Raph!” You frown. “It’s my treat. Is that what you’re worried about? Money?”

With his head buried deep in a pillow, he groans pathetically. “No.”

If only you knew.

Carefully, you kneel down to be eye-level with him. “If you’re worried about travel, it’s fine. I’ll just go to…” You check the email for the shop’s address. “New Jersey.”

Raph shoots up from the pillow with a seriousness that surprises you. “Absolutely not.” Grabbing your shoulders, he gives them a protective squeeze. “I wouldn’t let you do that.”

Because I like you too much.

“Then what?” You mimic Raph by placing a hand on his shoulder and shaking gently. “It’s not that big of a deal, okay?”

“Yes it is! Just—“ He moves away from your hand and sits up.

Don’t make me say it.

Okay, now you were officially worried. You quietly watch, only a little hurt that Raph pulled away from your touch.

Raph sighs, similarly ashamed at how he retreated from you. Slowly, he scooches over and silently invites you to sit beside him. You look at him, then back at your phone.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me,” he frowns. “It’s just hard to talk about this kinda stuff sometimes.”

Politely, you ease your way onto the cushion next to him. “It’s okay, I get it.”

“You do?”

You finally force yourself to meet Raph’s gaze. As you turn your head to look up, you nearly fall over at the sight of him mere inches from your face.

“Ah, yeah,” you manage to get out. Covering up your bashfulness with a half-hearted smile doesn’t make you feel any less vulnerable though. You really didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, but you want to understand.

You felt lightheaded and nauseous, like the moment right before a roller coaster plummets you into the earth at 80 miles per hour. You didn’t like roller coasters very much.

You also didn’t like it when you were so moved by Raph’s handsomeness and kindness that it rendered you speechless.

Raph searches your face as you sit dumbstruck. “I just don’t want you to go through all this trouble to get me some silly stuffed animal or anything.”

He smiles at you, but you can tell he’s still holding something back. You don’t know what it is, and you don’t know what you could say that wouldn’t ultimately embarrass the crap out of the both of you. All you can do is smile back.

“If that’s what you want.” You reel back and push yourself off of the couch. “Honest?”

Raph pauses, feeling torn. He wasn’t being honest, but now didn’t feel like the right time to crack open that emotional can of worms.

Nodding resolutely, he smiles again. “Honest.”

“So, I’ll just get a refund and we’ll pretend this whole thing never happened?” You feel a bead of sweat fall from your brow, and you pray Raph doesn’t notice.

“Perfect.” Similarly, he gets up and turns to hide the remnants of blush coloring his face. “I gotta go…punch a wall or somethin’.”

And like that, he disappears into the shadows of the lair, leaving you bereft with his departure.

“Well,” you announce to the empty room. “Good thing I’m a liar.”

How bad could Jersey be anyway?

—

It was worse.

“Next stop for Hackensack. All passengers for Hackensack.” A canny voice chimes in through the speakers. They seemed just as thrilled to be here as you did.

Like the genius you were, you decided to go over Raph’s head and book a train ride to the store. You’d used the subway plenty of times before, so slow-ass public transportation was no stranger to you.

But this…this was something else.

What was supposed to be a simple round trip turned into hours of sitting still on the tracks, waiting for other freight trains to pass by. The sweltering heat of the summer also made any sort of travel as slow as molasses. ‘Go to Jersey,’ you said, you’ll get together with Huginn and Muninn, have a few laughs.

A few passengers file down the aisle to exit the train. It takes your brain a few extra moments to register that this was also your stop. As you lean up from your spot against the window, a careless businessman bumps against your knee trying to get out with all his fuck-you suitcases and laptop bags.

You’ll have to apologize to Raph for unfortunately being right.

Oh yeah, Raph. You almost forgot why you came here in the first place. He’d been texting you about this and that today, and you usually responded to his texts immediately.

A frantic buzzing in your pocket makes your heart nearly stop. A phone call? You fumble around trying to grab it and your things as you try and get past a large family blocking the aisle.

You unlock your phone and bring it to your sweaty face. “Yello?”

“What kind of pizza do you want for later? Mikey said you just like plain cheese, but that didn’t sound right, so…” Raph’s voice is light and casual. You do your best to mimic it.

“Oh, yeah. He’s right, I’m kinda boring— AH!” A loud kid from earlier runs by you, barreling right over your left foot. It takes all your willpower not to scream directly into your speaker, but it’s no use.

“Ey, are you alright? What was that?”

After a second of quietly fighting back the manly tears, you recover. “Just…dropped my laptop on my foot. Ouch, ow.” Not your best performance, but it seems to do the trick.

“Ah.”

“Listen, I’m gonna call you back. Now’s not a good time.”

Before you realize it, the train lurches forward in earnest. A cold chill runs up your spine as you nearly trip backwards when the floor shifts again. “Fuck!”

You missed your stop, of course you did! A stern attendant ushers you back to an open seat, and you flip down defeated.

Raph’s voice cries out from your phone again. “Are you okay? Hello?”

“Would you like a complimentary snack?” The attendant’s annoying voice only frustrates you further. “We have pretzels, peanuts–”

“Thank you,” you spit, grabbing at the baggie in her hand. With one last terse smile, she finally leaves you be. You don't even care about the couple of peanuts that explode from the bag as you tear into it.

“Sorry. But actually, I’m gonna be a little late today. Y’know, busy with…” You glance around to try and find a worthy excuse. “Stuff.”

All of the sudden, Raph seemed strangely undeterred by your obvious lie. “Oh, sure. Stuff!”

“Yeah, but I should be back–”

As you turn your head back to the empty seat to the left of you, your heart nearly stops. It seems that in the time it took for you to come up with your phony excuse, Raph had just used Leo’s sword to portal himself directly beside you. On a train. The blue glow of the mystic portal illuminates your shocked expression.

“Ha! I knew it!” Raph points an accusatory finger as he ducks through to sit across from you.

“Uh– I…” Your voice stops in your throat. You wish you could say this wasn’t what it looks like. He doesn’t seem to be angry, more so just vindicated. You imagine he probably knew all along.

“Wait. You just used–”

Raph, for a brief moment, becomes sheepish. “W-Well, Leo was out doing–” He waves at the air. “Not the point. You’re out getting that plush, aren’t you? You lied.”

Raph clutches at his chest with both hands in a purposeful show of melodrama. He knew from the second you two parted ways that day. Sometimes it got a little frustrating dealing with how stubborn you could be. But then again, he was just as bad. Maybe even worse.

In all honesty, he wasn’t even mad. Mad that you lied to him, sure. But ultimately, it just made him flattered. It almost made him want to confess right then and there, but he holds his tongue.

After mulling around your answer, all you can do is shrug. “I’m…sorry?”

“Wow,” Raph smirks, leaning back against the uncomfortably tiny seat.

“What?” You blush. “You want me to apologize for getting you a gift? A gift that’s all the way over there now?” You point vaguely into the space behind Raph before burying your face in your hands. You don’t really know if it’s more from the embarrassment of getting caught or the fact that there was no denying it anymore.

You liked Raph. You liked him enough to travel to the most wretched hive of scum and villainy there was, apparently. You didn’t really mind Jersey, but at this point it was sort of a weird in-joke. You’re sure if you and Raph just took a trip out here yourselves, without all the deceit and unspoken awkwardness, you’d have fun.

Just tell him. It’s so obvious, isn't it?

“What, you mean…?” Raph turns to follow your hand, and puts all the pieces together. “Oh, Y/N. You didn’t have to–”

You interrupt. “Didn’t have to what? Buy a stupidly overpriced train ticket to get a stupidly overpriced stuffed animal? From some stupid little gargoyles? For some stupid, dumb…” You stand up suddenly, trying to get out all the pent up energy you evidently had bubbling just beneath the surface. You pace around the empty area at the back of the train for a second, ranting and babbling to yourself.

“For some stupid, dumb turtle dude. For a turtle dude!” The slight absurdity of the whole situation seems to dawn on you, and you can’t help but smile a little. The small smile widens into a grin and you start to chortle. You turn back to Raph and finally collapse back into your seat, absolutely spent from just that momentary show of emotion. Life would be so much easier if feelings didn’t get in the way, or turtle dudes. But, here you were, a pathetic, bumbling human trying their best not to make their amazing, strong, talented, funny, sweet best friend know what’s so blatantly clear.

You love him, idiot!

While you fall back down into your seat, Raph takes the opportunity to really analyze the situation from all angles. Leo was always better at this kind of stuff than him, but he needed to think carefully about this. He was usually prone to jumping headfirst into everything, for better and worse. Right now, his gut feeling was telling him the same thing as yours.

Just tell them. They went through all this trouble for you, so what’s the problem? What a loser…

Absent-mindedly, Raph picks up the bag of snacks you had and starts popping a couple into his mouth. Eating usually helped his brain slow down enough for him to focus up again.

You look up and stare out into the rapidly-changing environment outside of the train. You always liked sitting near a window whenever you traveled. To stay still while the world moved at a break-neck pace, it felt euphoric to watch the trees and buildings zoom by. It made you calm for a moment. After a charged couple of seconds, you catch your breath again. You didn’t realize you hadn’t been breathing.

“I really am sorry. I just wanted to do something nice–” You force yourself to turn your body back to Raph, and you look up in slow motion. You stare on in horror for what feels like hours as you watch him swallow a singular peanut.

Raph looks down at you curiously. It seemed like you were about to say something important. He leans down instinctually to get more eye-level with you. “What? What is it?”

He bites at the inside of his cheek, waiting for you to say what was just sitting at the tip of your tongue.

In a panic, all you can think to do is slap the bag of poison from his right hand and scream. “AAAH–!”

“Wha–?” Raph’s hand opens up. Lying on the ground, he reads the letters slowly, speaking them aloud. “Honey roasted…peanuts.”

“YOU’RE GONNA DIE! RAPH!”

“Spit it out! Throw up!” You don’t really know what you’re saying at this point. All you see is Raph and the panic in his eyes. “Stop the train!”

“S-STOP–! Choking–!” His voice comes out broken and frantic. “The pen!”

His hands move immediately to his belt, fumbling around for the epipen he’s never had to use until now. How could he be this spectacularly dumb? Not only were you probably about to pour your heart and soul out to him, he was about to do the same. In the background, a small crowd of confused employees and passengers turn to look at the weird scene unfolding at the back of the car. The same passive-aggressive attendant creeps up slowly next to you to try and de-escalate.

“Excuse me, is there a problem folks?” Her sickly, saccharine smile makes your blood boil.

Without thinking, you turn and snap back. “Yes, there’s a problem– My boyfriend’s freaking dying and you’re standing there handing out peanuts? Are you insane?!”

Raph’s eyes somehow go wider than they already were.

Glancing back down, you realize that he’s been trying and failing to communicate to you that you need to stick him with the pen. You snatch Raph’s belt clean off of his waist and riffle through all the annoying little pockets until you find it.

“Here! Here it is Raph!” You nearly cry from relief. Smiling, you grab ahold of his right hand and close his fist around the pen. “You’re not gonna die!”

Thankfully in doing so you release Raph’s neck, allowing him to speak again. “G-Great! Thank you…”

In the background, you can already hear the employees start to circle around you and Raph. You might not ever get to ride a train again after this, but you didn’t care. Fuck trains.

Raph’s hand stills, suddenly overcome with fear.

“Raph?” You frown at him.

“I’m scared.” He peeks over at you, his face twisted with shame.

“UGH! Fine!” You take the initiative and grab the pen, removing the cap with your teeth like a badass. With all your strength, which you figure you’ll probably need to fully pierce Raph’s thick, leathery skin, you reel back and stab it into his upper leg.

You close your eyes, content with having finally ended the nightmare. “Phew…”

Meanwhile, Raph waits rather impatiently. “Sometime today would be nice!”

Oh, you didn’t actually do it. “Right.”

You repeat the same motion with your hand, pulling back before jamming it in. Surely you didn’t chicken out a second time.

“Y/N!” Raph shouts, exasperated and confused.

“Goddamnit!” You grit your teeth and pull back again, looking at him tearfully. “I can’t do it! I’m a liar and a coward.”

Looking at your utterly terrified face, Raph can’t help but comfort you. Even as he feels his throat begin to tighten up, he takes his free hand to lay it over your trembling one. “No you’re not, you’re–”

“No, I am a liar. I lied to you, I’ve lied to Leo and Donnie and Mikey, I’ve lied to April and Splinter.” You try to wipe away the tears before looking back at Raph’s leg. “I lied because I was scared.”

While nobody’s come to you per se and asked you to your face, you know they knew. They all knew. Maybe you could have gotten over yourself for once and just come clean to everyone, but you knew you couldn’t. The idea of potentially ruining a friendship that’s been built for years with one awkward confession or less than charming moment, it made you absolutely terrified. You thought you would rather die than confess.

But, if all this secrecy and denial was going to literally kill him, that terrified you even more.

“Raph…” You swallow your pride and steel yourself.

To both of your surprise, the train comes to one final stop. The breaks screech to a halt, making the car lurch forward and back with incredible force. You lock eyes with Raph just as the train launches you forward, forcing your hand to push on the epipen’s plunger and jam it into his leg.

“Woah–!” Raph then catches you as you land squarely on his broad chest.

The pain of the needle didn’t even phase Raph. Though the effect of the pen took an immediate effect, his throat still felt tight. His heart was thundering in his chest, his hands felt cold and clammy. Was this still an allergic reaction?

“Sorry for the delay folks. We just have a minor…mutant medical matter to…mediate.” The canny voice of the speakers makes everyone else on the train groan in annoyance.

The two of you continue to stare at one another. Weirdly enough, neither of you feel the anxiety or weight of the unspoken words you both felt before. The feelings you both shared that forced you to stay silent, to laugh off the odd comments or blushes that threatened to expose you to each other. There was no fear anymore.

There was just you and him.

–

Raph gives one last ‘thank you’ and ‘sorry’ to the conductor and the ambulance people who were brought in just in case. The train dumped the two of you off at a random stop before moving on, leaving you both in the empty indoor waiting area of the train station.

You stare blankly ahead as you feel Raph sit next to you again. The bench you’re both on feels cold on your hand as you drum your fingers against it.

You guess you’re the one who needs to talk first. “So…”

“I like you,” Raph finishes.

You blink, raising your head up slowly. “I...like you.”

For a moment of silence, you each look off into the distance and melt into laughter. It’s an enormous relief to finally realize that the two of you have been harboring the exact same feelings and being afraid for the exact same reason.

But at the same time, it all seems so silly now.

“Why did we wait this long?” You chuckle, feeling the tears coming back.

Raph bumps your shoulder affectionately as he tries to fight back his own. “Why was I such a coward?”

You gather yourself and look up at him. “I can just see the obituary. Raphael Hamato, death by 1 (one) peanut.” You hold up your index finger.

Raph guffaws and breaks out into a full-belly laugh, and you can’t help but egg him on.

“I should’ve known. Only in Jersey.”

The two of you exchange a heartfelt smile as you unintentionally lean in. Raph’s concentration gets interrupted however when a couple of unexpected figures fly by outside. It looked like a weird, fat bird or something.

“What the…” Raph stands up to investigate.

As he pushes open the doors to look around, he almost trips over a mysterious bag sitting on the ground. He leans down and picks up a sticky note attached to the handle.

Here you go Red! Hope this makes up for all the times we helped Draxum try to kill you and your family. Also, how’s he doing? He won’t answer our texts, calls, or letters. Love, Huginn and Muninn <3

Raph smiles and shakes his head. “No way.”

Sure enough, inside the bag was the weird cow-rabbit plush that kicked off this whole crusade in the first place. He supposed he should be happy to finally have it.

Sneaking up behind him, you peek around Raph’s shell. “Wow, what service.”

“To be honest, I don’t really know if I want it anymore.” Raph smiles down at you warmly, putting the plush back in the bag and handing it to you.

“Oh no, don’t do that.” You grin and push the bag back to him.

“Come on, you deserve it.” He hands it back.

“You almost died from a peanut.” You push it again.

Raph’s sunny disposition doesn’t falter. “I want you to have it.”

Your eyes darken and you give the bag one final push into his stomach. “Just take the damn plush.”

Raph’s pouts bashfully before he relents. “You really are stubborn, you know?”

Smirking, you grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder. “And you’re so perfect? I sure know how to pick ‘em.”

Before reaching for his phone to text Leo, Raph watches on curiously as you change your mind and grab for the plush. “Hm?”

In an impulsive move, you hold the plush up to your face to give it a good once over. It was even cuter in person. You close your eyes and give its snout a tiny smooch before handing it back to Raph. You don’t try and hide the deep red your cheeks have turned.

Picking up on your invitation, Raph gingerly takes the plush into his hands and plants a kiss of his own on the same exact spot.

Though his heart felt full to the point of bursting at the seams, he didn’t mind the feeling. He felt bigger, more complete.

I love you too.

taglist: @saspas-corner

[elfqueen006]

The Lifeguard Part 1

Sunny Day Jack x Reader

---

Tags/CW: summer camp au, camp counselor au, horror, slasher, enemies to lovers. Reader is a bitch at first but eases up on Jack.

Minors DNI

You were the worst candidate to choose for a counselor, much less a counselor-in-training. You were crass, unqualified, and a slob to boot. But Sunny Day Jack, the camp mascot, couldn’t say anything because the kids took to you like ducks to scattered bread, and the head counselor admired your “can do attitude”. He’d just have to put up with you for the rest of the summer and to steer clear of the water…

Oh yeah another thing: You were the lifeguard.

“Cannon ball!”

Jack looked up from his clipboard to see one of the kids racing across the docks before jumping in the lake, making a large slash that sprayed everyone within distance.

“Hey, hey! No running on the docks, guys!” He said.

You however, clapped and whooped from your chair. “Sick dive, David!” You cheered.

The boy came up from the water and grinned at you.

Jack marched up to your chair and glared at you, “They’re not supposed to run on the docks,” he said, enunciating his words, “and as the lifeguard you should know it’s your responsibility if anything happens to them!”

“And I’ll take full responsibility, Jack-o. Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control,” You replied coolly. You drew your finger down your face like a teardrop and stuck out your bottom lip, “Don’t be a sad clown.”

The kids and counselors giggled upon hearing your joke.

Despite him being the camp mascot, Jack was essentially a counselor himself. Though he had fun – he was responsible. In his late teens as a counselor-in-training, he gradually built himself up to a trusted and respected member of staff.

And yet here you were – a newbie slacker – who was able to reduce him to a common fool with a single remark.

“Lay off,” Skylar said. She was your best friend and polar opposite. Sweet, considerate, and fun loving in a way that wasn’t arrogant or obnoxious. Call it childish, but he thinks he might’ve had a crush on her since this summer started. 

She lightly chided you before pinching your leg. Then she gave Jack a sweet smile, brushing her blonde locks from her face. She put a hand on his shoulder and the man just about turned to jelly.

“Don’t mind her, she’s an asshole,” She said with humor, “The kids will be fine. I’m watching them too.”

“Thanks, Skylar.” Jack replied.

He turned to leave but she stopped him, lightly biting her lip as she looked up at him through golden lashes, “I know you don’t drink and all… but the other counselors and I were wondering if you would come with us to the bar tomorrow night? I notice you’ve been stressed lately and I think it’d be good if you let off some steam.”

Jack had a heavy problem with drinking and anything drug related. As in he refused to participate in it and at times discouraged his fellow counselors from doing so, especially when on the job. He knew he came off as preachy, but this place was practically a second home to him. And the staff were like his family. He’d hate to see what’d happen if they fell down a messy path like he did…

Or worse, hurt one of the kids.

Warily, he glanced towards the high chair. “Is she going to be there?”

Skylar bit her lip guiltily, “She is one of the counselors too.”

“Yeah, some counselor…” Jack muttered.

“Hey, sure she’s a jerk sometimes but she’s really cool when it counts!” Skylar said, “Besides, no matter how much she may be, you shouldn’t let that ruin your chance to relax. Don’t you think you deserve that?”

He glowered at you from afar. One of the kids had fallen off a boat and instead of reacting accordingly, you started cackling before being told by another counselor to go and fetch them. But then he looked down and those perfect sky blue eyes looked back up at him. He sighed defeatedly.

“I guess I can make…some kind of compromise. But if it gets too hectic I’ll leave!” Jack said.

“No you won’t,” Skylar said, nudging his arm, “because we’ll need a spotter so we don’t get too drunk and someone to take us home.”

He huffed a laugh, “Right.”

She grinned and sprinted past him, her hair flowing behind her. Halfway to the main cabin, she waved back to him.

“See ya there!”

—

Regret. Sooo much regret. Everyone was a drunken mess. Nay, a frenzy. And Jack wasn’t too far behind. At first he’d been lightly sipping his drink, but it seemed like every inane comment from you drove him to take in more than he intended.

“No no no, you don’t understand. I’m the lifeguard right? Why do these kids come to me like I’m their guidance counselor?” You said.

“You are a counselor!” One of the others replied.

“Yeah but I help with activities and shit, not talk to these kids about why no one will date them at fucking middle school age- like kid! You better go and do some homework!”

Everyone roared with laughter.

“And they’re just gonna sneak in each others’ cabins later sooo-”

“Maybe,” Jack blurted suddenly, “Maybe they wouldn’t be doing that if you educated them properly for once, Y/N.”

You shake your head, “I’m not their sex ed teacher, Jack. Miss me with that.”

“Will you let me finish? If you just did. Your. Jooob,” He smacks his hand in his palm in tune with his words, “then I wouldn’t have to pick up your slack for every time you fuck up!”

The counselors made a collective ‘oohhh’ noise. Things were heating up. Even Skylar watched with interest.

“Oh, okay now we’re getting into it- hold my drink, Ian.” You said, handing your drink to your boyfriend,who drank less out of the whole crowd. Jack also passed his drink to someone.

“Jack, you’ve been on my ass since day one. And you’re just mad that the kids don’t think you’re fun anymore.”

His hazel eyes constricted, “What?”

You shrug coolly. 

“You’re out of your mind! They think I’m fun!”

“You’re around those kids waaay too damn much, Jack,” You chuckle, “You got something you’re not telling us?”

“Fuuuck you- FUCK YOU-” He hissed, pointing a gloved finger at you. Skylar pat Ian behind your back and gave him an expectant look. Ian nodded and shook your shoulder lightly, “Baby, that’s a little too far.”

“Yeah, don’t be mean,” Skylar added.

“It’s not my fault he can’t take a little ribbing.” You teased.

The clown rose from his seat, “Oh, I’ll give you ribbing you little-”

A couple of male counselors went to hold him back, but it wasn’t an easy feat. Jack was fucking massive and he almost would’ve gotten to you if not have for the third counselor grappling him from the back of his neck. 

Guess he wouldn't be driving anyone home.

—

A massive fucking hangover washed over Jack the day after. He stumbled over his feet as he stepped out of bed. He went to the bathroom and switched on the light. It was a pain on his eyes when he struggled to focus on the mirror. All his makeup was washed off. He was in a regular white tee and his boxers.

He then spotted a blue sticky note on the side of his mirror that read:

Your costume is in the cabinet. Don’t go so hard today, Jack! - SKY

He breathed a laugh. Fuck, he loved her.

When he is dressed in his costume he checks the time and he cringes to see it’s nearly the afternoon. But when he goes outside he’s nearly surprised to see everything is just as it was the day before. Knowing his fellow counselors – knowing Skylar – they had probably just wanted him to rest easy. But it ached to just how easily everyone got along without him… 

Everyone had been at their usual stations, guiding the kids, participating in activities… except for you. Your high chair was empty.

Of course.

He walked around to greet everyone and smiled when a few kids from the younger cabins came up to greet him.

“We thought you were gone!” A little girl cried.

“We thought you left us!”

Jack scoffed, “Me? Nooo, I’d never abandon this place. That means I’d leave my kids and we can’t have that right?” Saying this, he ruffled their hair. They laughed, gave him a hug, and went back to their assigned counselors.

Right after, the head counselor, Bill, had come up to greet him. With a smile he slapped him on the back, “Look at you fresh faced and starry eyed! I was worried you were gonna be out of commission for the day.”

Jack shook his head, “Oh no, sir. Not when there’s so much work to be done!”

“That’s nice, well you needn't worry about that for a bit, we’ve got somebody on it.” Bill said.

“...Who?”

He said your name and Jack paled, “She’s got it handled! She doesn’t do much at that chair when she’s on lifeguard duty so Skylar suggested we put ‘er on her feet for a while.”

“That… That’s great, sir.” Jack smiled weakly, something Bill didn’t miss. He puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Now son, I know you kids’ don’t always see eye to eye, but Y/N’s a real swell girl when you get to know her.”

“But why should I?” Jack snapped suddenly, “Why do I need to know her, so she can be nice?!”

“Hey I’m nice!”

The two men looked to the trail near them where you led a line of young teens. Bill pat him on the back before usurping the kids from you and leading them to lunch. You were dressed in a self-made crop top from your original camp shirt and some jean shorts with sneakers. You were somewhat pretty if he looked past your general awfulness. But he didn’t wanna explore you any more than that. Clenching his fists, he started heading in the direction of the cafeteria. But, typical you, you didn’t take the hint and saddled up alongside him.

“Hey.” You said.

“...”

“We should probably hurry up and squash this, the counselors’ are on my ass today. Skylar too.”

“Good.” He remarked bitterly, “I hope they’re on your a- tail- the rest of the summer.”

“Hey, hey- Sunny, hold on!” You step in front of him, blocking his path from the door. He tried to go around you but you kept side stepping him, refusing to let him through. He had half a mind to throw you aside, but he’d have to contain himself. For Bill. The other counselors. Hell, the whole camp. He groaned, steeling himself for whatever drivel you were about to spout.

“Okay so,” You began, “I admit I’m a bitch.”

“No, really?” Jack replied dryly.

“Really. I haven’t been… all that cool to you. Especially last night. But I swear I was only ripping on you a bit, and aside from that alcohol gets me crazy so-”

“This doesn’t sound like an apology.” Jack interrupted.

“Lemme finish, lemme finish!” You urged, “I thought I was only being a bitch in like- a cool way, y’know? And I mean, we’re both adults so… I thought you’d get it?”

Tik tok, Y/N, tik tok.

“I’m sorry,” You said quickly, “okay? I’m so so fucking sorry. And the drinking… It's no excuse because I was being a bitch bitch, not a cool bitch. And I used it as like, more of a booster to my incredible bitchiness so-”

Jack put his hand up, stopping your ridiculous apology, “Alright alright. Apology accepted. Let’s get the hell inside.”

You sidestepped him again, “Wait, no.”

He blinked rapidly before settling his gaze on you with a hard look, “Excuse me?”

“Skylar. She’s been gone awhile, arranging things in the shed.” You said. A flicker of concern flashed across his face.

“Is she alright?” He asked.

“Yeah! She texted me a bit ago. She might need some help though.” You wiggled your brows suggestively.

“...What?”

“Go. Go help her!” Saying that, you shoved his arm opposite to the cafeteria. And for whatever reason he followed your insistent hassling.

He was halfway to the shed, which was right along the forest. He’d gone and fetched things from the shed a number of times but the thought of Skylar being all alone… he didn’t like it. And he couldn’t help but wonder: while your apology was half assed, you seemed to be way more sincere when pushing him in your friends’ direction. Were you trying to …help him with her?

No. No, now that he thought about it, it was more likely you were trying to hook them up.

For some reason that made him snicker. 

The thought that counts, I guess.

Soon enough he reaches the supply shed. And for some reason he feels his stomach churn.

He took the opportunity to adjust his hair and jacket, before raising his fist to knock on the door.

“Ian- shit..!”

Jack’s whole body went still. That was…Skylar’s voice. And he was certain of the name she said. Your boyfriends’ name. 

He listened further. There was shuffling in the cabin, and creaking. And moaning.

“Yeah..! Right there!” 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, Sky…”

He was sure of it now. That was Ian’s voice. And they were…

Without thinking, he burst into the shed. There was a shriek from the two of them. They stumbled over their feet trying to cover themselves. Ian fumbled with his pants, covering up that flaccid dick of his. Skylar went for her camp counselor shirt. Her shorts and panties were around her ankles. Her black bra pulled over her breasts…

“Wh-What the fuck?!” Skylar shrieked, “Get out of here!”

“Hold on! Hold on,” Ian said, trying to calm her down. Fully dressed, he started to approach the stagnant clown. “You won’t tell Y/N about this, will you-”

Jack struck him across the face. Skylar shrieked as her lover fell to the hard wood and she tried to make a run for it. Before she could reach the door though, he grabbed her by the hair – her beautiful blonde hair – and pulled her back in the shed. No one could hear their screams for miles.