#so i just wish that they’d be given the opportunity to do so at the met gala when invited

[bandsanitizer]

kim hongjoong in balmain probably the only idol I want to see at the met gala now

[d-z20]

Neighbourly Care part 6 (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You're home for the holidays and despite the hustle and bustle of family gatherings, your mind is stuck on your two hot neighbours just next door. And when an opportunity for some time alone with them presents itself, how could you refuse?

-OR-

Agatha and Rio tease you relentlessly at a New Years party and you can't wait until its finished to fuck them so you sneak away

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, switch Agatha, switch Rio, Switch reader, threesome (duh), Mommy/Daddy titles, strap-ons, vibrators, fingering, oral, marking, reader has a vibrator used on them in front of other people, alcohol consumption, scissoring, light choking, maybe more? who knows, it's so long I've definitely missed something

Words: 6.4k

A/N: We're BACK baby. This was supposed to be released at the start of Jan to be seasonal but alas it is being released now. This is just shameless smut tbh

AO3 | Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | Masterlist

The holidays at home always blur together: long afternoons curled up on the couch, listening to old family stories, plates of food that never seem to end, and the comforting hum of familiar voices filling every corner and yet this year feels different.

The quiet warmth of home should be grounding, but instead, it leaves an ache in the pit of your stomach. Agatha and Rio are just next door. So close that if you stepped outside, you could probably hear their laughter through an open window. But proximity doesn’t mean access, and knowing they’re near without being able to touch them��to taste them—has your nerves fraying with every passing hour.

You try to focus on the holiday routine, but your mind keeps drifting, fingers itching to grab your phone. It starts with subtle messages: a teasing remark, a playful emoji, a simple ‘wish you I could be with you’. But restraint crumbles fast, and soon, the texts turn flirty.

And then—

MILFs Anonymous

Rio: You should really learn to close your curtains, cariño. You never know who’s watching ;)

Rio: *click to open image*

The moment you open it, your breath catches.

Agatha is naked in front of the window, bent over just enough to make your pulse quicken, her back arched, ass pressing into Rio’s hips. Rio’s hand grips her firmly, fingers digging into soft skin, and there’s a faint red tint blooming across Agatha’s ass—a clear sign of exactly what they’d been doing before taking this picture.

Your brain shortcircuits.

Because even though you can’t see it, you know the look on Rio’s face, the way she holds Agatha steady, the slight tilt of her hips. You’ve felt it before—been pinned beneath that same unrelenting grip, left breathless by the sharp sting of Agatha’s nails in your skin, Rio’s voice low and taunting as she urges you to take what you're given.

You swallow hard, your mind replaying flashes of memories—Agatha's gasping moans, the way Rio growled in satisfaction as she pushed deeper, the sting of Agatha’s teeth on your shoulder as she struggled to keep quiet. The way they ruined you. The way you begged them to.

But it wasn’t just the two of them in the picture. Through the window, reflected in the glass, you can see yourself wrapped in only a towel, fresh from the shower, completely unaware of what was unfolding right next door.

Oh shit. They had been fucking each other while watching you.

A fresh wave of heat rushes through you. They knew you’d see this and they knew exactly how your thoughts would spiral.

—

For the rest of the day, no matter how many people surround you, no matter how desperately you try to push the image from your mind, you can’t stop feeling the heat coiling low in your stomach, a slow, aching pulse between your thighs that refuses to fade. Every time you slip away for even a moment, closing yourself in the bathroom or lingering too long in the pantry, you try to find any sort of relief—pressing your thighs together, letting your fingers ghost over the damp heat through your underwear—but it’s never enough. The house is too busy, the walls too thin, and the risk too high.

And then it gets worse.

When you step outside that afternoon, something entirely unexpected greets you.

At first, it doesn’t make sense—a massive tent pole structure stretching across your backyard, spilling into Agatha and Rio’s. Men move around, securing ropes and hammering stakes into the ground. You frown, stepping closer to where your father stands, watching the setup unfold.

“What’s going on?” you ask, confusion evident in your voice.

Your dad turns to you with a wide, easy smile, as if the sight of an entire-ass event tent appearing in your backyard is completely normal. “Oh, the fencing between the yards was getting replaced, right? So we thought, why not take advantage of the space? We’re throwing a New Year’s Eve party with Agatha and Rio. A big one—lots of people—should be a good way for them to meet the neighbours a bit better.”

Your stomach flips. “A joint party?”

“Yep!” He seems blissfully unaware of the way you bit your lip; you’re a flirty drunk and there is no way you’ll be able to help yourself even with a house full of guests. “Just made sense, really. They only moved in a couple weeks before you went back to college so they’re still kind of new here, and it’s a great excuse for everyone to get together.”

As if summoned by your rising anxiety, your mother enters the conversation, casually slipping her phone from her pocket. “Oh, that reminds me—we have a group chat for the planning. You should be in it, too.”

Before you can protest, your phone buzzes with a new notification:

Mom added you to New Years Party 💃🥳🍾

Looking at who was in the chat, you see it’s just your parents, Agatha, Rio, and now you.

You stare at your screen, the weight of the situation settling into your bones. There’s no escaping them at this party. They’ll be there, looking devastating, flirting in ways no one else will recognise, taunting you. And worse—you’ll have to pretend it doesn’t matter.

The moment you’re alone, you do the only thing that makes sense.

MILFs Anonymous.

~15:48

You: You two didn’t think to tell me about this party???

~15:51

Agatha: We thought you already knew, darling.

~16:02

Rio: Can’t wait to see your outfit ;)

You let out a groan, flopping onto your bed, heart hammering against your ribs.

—

The next couple of days blur into a frenzy of preparation. The towering pole tent in the backyard transforms into something breathtaking—a canopy of warm string lights crisscrossing above, casting a golden glow over the dance floor, lounge areas, and bar stations. Tables are filled with food and drinks; fire pits crackle steadily, promising warmth against the winter chill.

Your parents, ever the enthusiastic hosts, are in full planning mode. Your mom bombards the group chat with a steady stream of last-minute tasks, while your dad orchestrates the outdoor setup like a seasoned general.

"Can someone make sure the drinks are properly chilled?""Surfaces still need to be wiped down!""We need more ice—any volunteers?"

Between messages, you’re swept into the chaos, lugging bottles of wine to the bar, adjusting decorations, untangling fairy lights. But no matter how hectic things get, Agatha and Rio always seem to find a moment to steal you away.

It starts small.

As you carry a tray of glasses into their kitchen, Rio appears behind you, pressing in close, her breath warm against your ear.

"Mmm, darling, seeing you follow orders is doing things to me." Her fingers trail down your arm, barely touching, but enough to send a shiver racing down your spine. Before you can react, she’s gone; back to chatting with your mom like nothing happened.

Then there’s Agatha. You’re kneeling down, adjusting a set of flickering LED candles on a coffee table, when she approaches. She tilts your chin up with two fingers, forcing your gaze to hers.

"Careful, sweetheart." She smirks as her thumb brushes over your lower lip. "If you stay on your knees too long, I’m going to start getting ideas."

Heat floods your body, your pulse hammering wildly. They’re relentless, playing a game you have no hope of winning. And then—because the universe isn’t done with you yet—your mom unknowingly delivers the final blow.

New Years Party 💃🥳🍾

Mom: Hey! Would it be okay if Y/N stayed with you guys tonight? Aunt Carol and family are taking up all our rooms.

You don’t even think about how your mom’s making you give up your room without asking; you’re too busy staring at your phone, heart pounding.

You’re going to be staying with them again.

Excitement flutters in your chest, hot and electric. After days of teasing glances, fleeting touches, and whispered words meant to unravel you, you’re finally going to have them to yourself. No stolen moments. No interruptions. Just you, Agatha, and Rio.

But that thrill is laced with something deeper. Because if they’ve been so relentless with their flirting, not knowing when they’d next properly be with you, what the hell is going to happen now they know they get to have you all to themselves?

You swallow hard, fingers gripping your phone tighter as their responses roll in.

New Years Party 💃🥳🍾

Rio: No worries :)

Agatha: Don’t worry, we will take good care of them, just like we always do.

You choke on nothing.

Your mom, blissfully oblivious, just reacts with a thumbs-up emoji and moves on with planning. Meanwhile, you sit there, phone still in your hands, trying to process the fact that you’ve just been thrown straight into the lion’s den—and you’re not coming out unfucked unscathed.

—

You stand before your mirror, hands smoothing down the fabric of your costume.

It’s bolder than anything you’d normally wear. The cut, the way it frames your body, the teasing flashes of skin—you look hot.

After one last steadying breath, you step out of your room.

The party is already in full swing by the time you make your way downstairs. Your house, the backyards, and Agatha and Rio’s house are all packed, laughter and music spilling from every direction. Guests roam freely between the connected spaces, glasses in hand, conversations buzzing with holiday cheer. Familiar faces from high school mix with family, friends, and neighbours, the crowd a blur of movement and warmth.

But you only have eyes for them.

Rio and Agatha stand near the bar, unmistakable even from across the yard. They’re dressed as pirates and they look absolutely devastating.

Agatha’s coat fits her like a dream—dark, regal, and cinched at the waist in a way that accentuates every curve. Gold buttons gleam under the dim lights, the ruffled blouse beneath teasing glimpses of skin. Her long hair tumbles in wild waves over her shoulders, and the sharp smirk she wears makes her look utterly untouchable.

Then there’s Rio. Her deep red tunic borders on scandalous, left open just enough to reveal her cleavage. Her pants hug her hips perfectly and it makes your mouth run dry. The hat, the sharp gaze, the effortless dominance in every movement—it’s almost unfair.

—

The night blurs into a haze of warmth and music, but you barely see them. They’re the perfect hosts, moving through the party with easy charm, laughing, drinking, and acting like they aren’t slowly breaking you.

Every time they pass, they’re touching you in some way.

A lingering hand at the small of your back. Fingers skimming your wrist. A squeeze at your hip. Soft whispers against your ear, too low for anyone else to hear.

It’s torture. Slow, deliberate, intoxicating torture.

And then—

“Long time no see.”

You turn, blinking as a tall guy in a sharp tux grins at you, tilting his martini glass in greeting. You recognise him vaguely—someone from high school, back for the holidays like everyone else.

“You’re looking good,” he says, eyes dragging down your outfit before reaching out, fingers grazing the fabric. “I really like the costume.”

You arch a brow, looking him up and down. “And you’re dressed as...”

He smirks, lifting his glass again. “Bond. James Bond.”

Seriously? Could he not be bothered to put in any effort?

The conversation shifts into polite small talk—he’s studying business now, home for the break, blah blah blah. It’s easy, meaningless chatter. Until he leans in closer, voice dropping.

“You know,” he muses, “007 always gets the hottie in the end.”

You open your mouth, not entirely sure whether to laugh or shut him down.

Suddenly you’re not alone. Rio and Agatha flank you, cutting off all space and oxygen.

Agatha moves first, wrapping an arm around your waist, her palm settling firmly over your ass, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch.

At the same time, Rio’s fingers find the back of your neck, her thumb dragging over the sensitive skin there.

The shift is instant.

Mr. Uninventive hesitates, eyes darting between the two of them. “Uh—”

“We need to steal them for a moment,” Rio interrupts smoothly, leaving no room for argument.

“Party business,” Agatha adds, amusement curling at the edges of her words.

Before you can even process what’s happening, they’re guiding you away. Through the house, up the stairs, and into their bedroom.

The door slams shut behind you.

Agatha and Rio move in tandem, running their palms over your body, mapping every inch with a reverence that makes your head spin. Lips follow—featherlight kisses pressed to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Every touch, every whispered breath, is a deliberate act of worship.

“Look at you,” Rio breathes against your skin, voice thick with hunger. Her fingers trace the curve of your waist, slipping just under the fabric of your costume. “You have no idea what you’re doing to us, do you, baby?”

Agatha hums in agreement, her mouth warm against the shell of your ear. “You look so fucking good like this,” she murmurs.

Their words make your skin prickle, heat pooling low in your stomach. You can barely breathe with how they’re touching you, how they’re speaking to you. But just as quickly as they praise, their hands slow and then stop entirely.

“Then again,” Agatha continues, her tone turning sharper, her fingers digging into your hips, “maybe we shouldn’t be too generous with our compliments.”

You blink up at her, dizzy with need, but Rio’s grip on your chin forces your gaze toward her instead. The playful glint in her eyes is gone, replaced by something darker.

“You really thought we wouldn’t notice?” She asks, tilting your head back, forcing you to hold her gaze. “Letting everyone at this party get an eyeful of you? Letting that prick downstairs get close enough to touch you?”

Your stomach twists. “I wasn’t—”

Agatha tuts, cutting you off. “Don’t even try, sweetheart.” Her grip tightens, her breath hot against your cheek. “You were practically giggling at him.”

“I was being friendly,” you argue weakly. “Just being a good host—”

“You should know who you belong to by now,” Rio interrupts, voice a low growl, her lips brushing yours. “The only people you need to be good for are us.”

Before you can stammer out a response, Agatha takes your hand in hers, guiding it lower and lower until your palm is pressed between her legs. Your breath catches, eyes going wide when you feel it.

Hard, thick, and waiting.

The heavy coat she’s wearing must have concealed it from view

Your lips part, a soft, startled noise escaping before Rio kisses it away. Then Agatha presses forward just enough to make sure you feel her, making sure you understand.

“Still want to pretend?” She teases dangerously. “Or are you ready to be good now?”

Rio doesn’t give you a chance to answer. Her fingers are suddenly slipping past the waistband of your underwear, gliding through your slick heat with ease. The first stroke has you jolting, the second has you gasping, and by the third, you’re already shaking in their hold.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Rio murmurs against your lips, dragging her fingers through your wetness before circling your clit in slow, deliberate strokes. “You’re so worked up. Is this all for us or do you want us to go fetch your friend from downstairs?”

You whine at her words. “No. Please, no, I want you. I only ever want you.”

Agatha hums her approval, her hands busy with your chest, kneading, pinching, and rolling your nipples between her fingers in a way that has you keening. Her mouth isn’t far behind, her lips and tongue lavishing attention along your neck and collarbone, teeth scraping just enough to make you shudder.

“You look so pretty like this,” she muses, flicking her tongue over a sensitive spot, smiling when she feels your breath hitch. “So desperate and needy. And you have the nerve to pretend you weren’t begging for us to do this?”

Rio chuckles, dragging her fingers lower before plunging two inside you without warning. The sudden stretch knocks the air from your lungs, your knees buckling as she fucks into you with deep, practiced strokes. Her free hand grips your hip, keeping you steady as your body melts between them, thighs shaking, pleasure mounting too quickly to contain.

“That’s it, baby,” she purrs, curling her fingers just right, rubbing against your g-spot in a way that has you seeing stars.

You don’t stand a chance. Between Agatha’s lips on your skin, her hands teasing and playing with your chest, and the relentless motion of Rio’s fingers, you unravel in their arms, your orgasm hitting you in waves that leave you breathless. You barely register Agatha’s arm wrapping around your waist, holding you upright as your body trembles, Rio murmuring soft praises as she strokes you through the aftershocks.

By the time you finally come down, you’re a mess—practically boneless from the pleasure they’ve wrung from you. You hadn’t even noticed how thoroughly they’d been marking you until you glance at the mirror across the room and spot angry red hickies blooming all over your neck—too dark to be ignored, too obvious to be passed off as anything else.

Rio just smirks. “You’ll figure something out,” she says, unbothered.

Then something smooth and cool is slid down the front of your underwear and then pushed inside you. It slips in without resistance; you’re not surprised by this with how hard you just came, but you still jolt at the sensation, looking down in alarm, but Agatha hushes you with a soothing stroke down your spine.

“Be a good pet,” she whispers. “And don’t take it out.”

Your stomach twists in anticipation at what they’re going to do.

Agatha opens the door, but before you can protest, Rio pats your ass and sends you on your way.

You try to focus, try to mingle, but it’s impossible. Your legs are unsteady as you make your way back down the stairs, each step a struggle as the first soft buzz hums to life between your thighs.

You bite your lip hard, fingers gripping your drink tighter than necessary, heat spreading across your face.

It’s going to be a long night.

—

Desperation eventually wins out.

The drinks, the teasing, the relentless vibrations—it’s all too much.

You don’t even think before your fingers fly over your phone screen, firing off a text to MILFs Anonymous in sheer drunken need.

You: I need you, Mommy.

The moment it sends, regret lances through you. Too much? Too needy? Too obvious?

But before you can spiral, your phone buzzes.

Agatha: We’re in our living room, baby.

You practically start sprinting to them. 

—

When you arrive, a group of guests has already settled in for a game of charades.

Rio and Agatha are perched on the couch, the picture of effortless elegance, drinks in hand, looking entirely untouched by the chaos they’ve unleashed inside you.

“Come join us, Y/N!” someone calls.

You hesitate. There are no seats left, not even an armrest to perch on.

Then Agatha smirks, tilting her head in invitation. “Oh, come here,” she says, patting her thigh. “We don’t mind squeezing in a bit.”

The breath leaves your lungs. Your body starts moving before your mind can protest, drawn like a moth to flame. The moment you lower yourself into Agatha’s lap, you feel the firm press of her strap beneath you.

Your thighs clench. A small, involuntary whimper slipping past your lips, barely audible over the chatter—except to them. The vibrations in your underwear kick up just slightly.

It’s a warning.

You shift instinctively, trying to relieve the ache, trying to grind just enough, but Agatha’s hands settle on your hips, holding you still.

“Behave,” she whispers.

The game goes on, but you are utterly useless—lost in your arousal, eyes darting desperately between them, silently begging for mercy.

And then, just as your body reaches a breaking point, they stand. Agatha lifts you from her lap, setting you onto the couch as if you weigh nothing. Rio leans in close—close enough for only you to hear.

“You should be more careful when texting,” she whispers, smirking against your ear. “Check which group chat you click on next time.”

Your blood freezes.

They walk away, leaving you scrambling to open your phone. Your stomach drops. Your message—the Mommy message—wasn’t sent to MILFs Anonymous.

It was sent to the party planning chat.

With your parents in it.

Crap.

The vibrations surge suddenly to a dizzying intensity, tearing you violently back into the moment. You slap a hand over your mouth, barely suppressing a gasp, legs clamping shut as pleasure floods through you.

Agatha and Rio glance at you from across the room, watching as you struggle.

Your fingers tighten around your phone, mind racing, body burning.

That text is going to be impossible to explain to your parents.

But right now? Right now, all you can do is bite your lip and try and survive until you’re alone with Agatha and Rio again.

—

As the party inches closer to midnight, the energy shifts—laughter growing louder, bodies pressing together as people eagerly anticipate the countdown. The air is thick with warmth, alcohol, and the unspoken anticipation of the night’s inevitable climax.

Unfortunately for you, the guy from earlier sidles up beside you, martini glass still in hand.

“Ah, there you are.”

You sigh, schooling your expression as you glance up at him. He’s grinning, slightly flushed from alcohol, his tux still crisp despite the hours of partying.

“Where’d you run off to?” he asks, taking another slow sip of his drink. “I was hoping we’d get a little more time together.”

“Been busy,” you reply, voice flat.

He chuckles like you’ve made a joke, leaning in a little too close, eyes dipping to your lips. "Y’know, it’s bad luck to not have someone to kiss at midnight. Wouldn’t want to start the new year off on the wrong foot, would you?" His tone is smooth and practiced, and though his words drip with charm, they don’t land the way he intends.

You open your mouth to shut him down, but shut it again when you hear a deep gasp from behind you.

“Oh no,” Rio drawls dramatically. “Oops.”

You barely have time to process before Rio’s drink drenches the front of his pristine tuxedo. There’s a second of pure silence. Then, from somewhere in the crowd, a drunken party guest howls with laughter.

“Dude!” they wheeze, pointing at the massive stain spreading down his pants. “You look like you pissed yourself!”

Why on Earth they find it so funny, you’ll never know, but it does seem to make wannabe James Bond forget about flirting with you.

He goes stiff, face burning as he looks down at the damage. His jaw works, like he’s about to lash out for being humiliated. Instead, he mutters something under his breath, pushes past the crowd, and disappears from sight.

Rio, standing beside you, smiles sweetly, swirling the remnants of her drink round the glass. “Oops,” she says again, voice filled with mock innocence.

At that moment, the countdown begins.

“Ten!”

Agatha shifts closer.

“Nine!”

Rio sets her empty glass down, her gaze flickering to you.

“Eight!”

You feel the first brush of Agatha’s fingers along your cheek.

“Seven… six…”

Rio’s hand slides down your back, resting just above your waist.

“Five… four…”

Agatha tilts your chin up.

“Three…”

Your breath catches.

“Two…”

Your pulse pounds.

“One!”

Then, at the stroke of midnight, their lips are on you.

Agatha kisses you first, slow and languid, her tongue teasing at your lower lip before slipping into your mouth. It’s deep and possessive, and if anyone notices your neighbour kissing someone who is not her wife, they’re too caught up in their own celebrations to care.

Before you can fully process it, she pulls away, only for Rio to take her place.

Where Agatha was slow, Rio is devastating—teeth nipping at your lip, tongue sliding against yours, hands gripping your waist like she’s starving for you.

By the time she pulls back, you’re breathless, dazed, and aching.

—

The party blurs after that. There’s more drinking, more dancing, more laughter, but the tension lingers.

They don’t let you stray too far, always keeping you within reach, eyes dark with promise.

Eventually, the party begins to die down, and guests filter out toward your parents’ house to continue the fun on a smaller scale. You move to follow, but before you can take a step, a firm hand closes around your wrist.

It’s Agatha. Her grip is light, but her eyes are anything but. “Stay.”

She turns, calling out to the last stragglers near the door. “We’re gonna lock up—probably head to bed. Unfortunately, that means Y/N here is calling it a night too.”

You know she’s lying and from the way Rio is standing behind you, so close you can feel her breath against your neck, you know exactly why.

The door clicks shut.

The lock turns.

And then?

They pounce.

Rio is on you first, shoving you back against the nearest wall, her mouth claiming yours with a hunger that makes your knees buckle. It’s all tongue and teeth, no patience, no teasing—just raw need.

Agatha isn’t far behind. She presses up against your side, hands already tugging at your costume, lips brushing against your ear as she snarls, “I thought they’d never leave.”

You don’t get a chance to answer.

Rio’s hands are already at your waist, yanking at the fabric, desperate to get it off. “Fuck,” she mutters, cursing the layers, fingers fumbling.

Agatha’s laugh is low and wicked as she slides a hand between your legs, pressing against the soaked fabric of your underwear.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she coos. “You’re soaked.”

Heat floods your face, but you don’t get a second to feel embarrassed—because in the next breath, Rio growls in frustration and just rips your costume open.

“Rio!” you gasp, but she doesn’t care.

“Shut up,” she mutters, eyes dark with want. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

She starts stripping you, hands rough and insistent. She doesn’t waste time, doesn’t go slow, just takes—pulling away fabric, tossing aside layers—until you’re left in nothing but your thoroughly wrecked underwear.

While Rio starts to undress herself, Agatha’s hands trail down your arms before gripping your wrists and pinning them against the wall.

“Look at you,” she muses, eyes dragging over your body like she’s memorising every inch. “You really let yourself get this messy at a party?”

Before you can snap back, your gaze flicks to Rio and the very, very obvious damp patch on her lacey black underwear.

Heat surges through you, and despite your situation, a smirk tugs at your lips. “I’m the messy one?” You tease, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like someone else has a problem too.”

Rio follows your gaze—then scoffs, shaking her head with a laugh. “Keep talking,” she warns, shoving her thumbs beneath the waistband of her underwear. “See what happens.”

Now Agatha starts stripping, too.

And fuck.

Your mouth goes dry as the last of their clothes hit the floor, leaving you gaping at her—completely bare, except for the harness strapped tightly around her hips, the deep purple toy attached firmly at the centre.

It makes your breath catch.

The sight of her so commanding and unapologetic aroused has your knees weak.

Rio spots your reaction immediately. Smirking, she slowly drops to her knees in front of you, dragging her palms down your trembling thighs.

"You're shaking, cariño," she murmurs, pressing a teasing kiss against your hipbone. "Been wound up all night, have you?"

Her fingers dip beneath the waistband of your soaked underwear. With a slow, deliberate drag, she peels the ruined fabric down your legs, letting it drop to the floor. And then she spots the vibrator still tucked between your slick thighs.

Her smirk widens.

"Look at this," she purrs, brushing her fingers against the damp, buzzing device. "You've been so good, keeping this in for us."

“Not like I had a chance to take it out. You guys have had me on a tight leash since midnight,” you scoff.

“A leash, you say? Now that’s a good idea,” Agatha hums from behind you, warm hands sliding up your arms before settling at your waist. She pulls you flush against her chest, letting you feel every inch of the hard length pressing against your lower back.

Rio hooks a finger around the toy and pulls it free with a wet, obscene little sound that makes your entire body jolt. Then, without breaking eye contact, she brings it to her lips.

Her tongue flicks over it first, tasting the evidence of your arousal. She hums, lashes fluttering as she takes the toy fully into her mouth, sucking it clean with slow, deliberate moans that send heat rushing straight to your core.

Your fingers dig into Agatha’s arms, a whimper slipping past your lips.

“You taste so fucking good,” Rio purrs, setting it aside before leaning in, kissing and biting her way up your inner thigh.

Agatha moves at the same time, her hands skimming up your ribs before one closes firmly around your throat. She tilts your head to the side, exposing your neck, and sinks her teeth in.

The sharp pleasure-pain rips a gasp from you.

"Such a needy thing," Agatha husks against your skin, sucking another bruise into place. “We only fucked you a few hours ago and yet you’re still dripping for us.”

Rio groans in agreement, her breath hot against your thigh. Without warning, she grabs the back of your knee, hooks your leg over her shoulder, and finally presses her mouth to your pussy.

Rio’s tongue works you open with devastating precision; she is utterly relentless. Every flick and swirl sends a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through your body, making your thighs tremble around her head. The grip Agatha has around your waist tightens, holding you up as you lose yourself to the sensation, your hands grasping at anything they can touch.

You’re so close and Rio feels it. She moans against you, the vibration sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight to your core. The tension snaps all at once, a ragged cry escaping your lips as an orgasm crashes through you, stealing the air from your lungs. Your body shudders, shaking in Agatha’s steady arms as Rio eases you through it, licking up every last drop, prolonging the high until you can barely stand.

Only when your body sags completely against Agatha does Rio finally pull away, her lips slick and eyes hooded with satisfaction. But you barely get a moment to recollect yourself before Agatha is moving you both again.

She manhandles you effortlessly, flipping you over the arm of the couch with zero warning. She grips your hips and thrusts inside you in a single, smooth motion.

“Fuck—!” You arch against the cushions; the stretch is almost overwhelming, but you push back against her, wordlessly begging for more. And she gives it to you, setting a brutal pace that has your nails clawing at the couch.

There’s no hesitation and no patience left. Agatha grip is firm, fingers digging into your flesh like she owns you. The heavy press of her body against your back, the way the harness hits deep with every roll of her hips—it’s overwhelming, all-consuming, and exactly what you need.

It’s only then that you register the low, shuddering groans Agatha is making, the kind that makes it feel like your body is alive with electricity. You realise she must have a grinding pad in the harness. Every thrust she gives you is giving her something in return, dragging that firm pressure right over her clit.

"Oh, fuck—so tight around me, baby. You like being used like this?" Agatha’s voice is rough and strained, and it only makes you clench tighter around her.

But you still want more.

Your fingers scramble against the cushions before reaching back, finding a handful of soft, wild hair to yank.

Rio gasps, pleasure laced into the sharp pull, and follows, letting you drag her in front of you. Her pupils are blown, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

You waste no time, your hands cupping the damp lace of her underwear, feeling the evidence of how much this night has affected her.

"You act all in control, but you’re just as desperate, aren’t you? Been getting off to this the whole time?" You moan, voice thick with pleasure, as Agatha pounds into you.

Rio lets out a breathless laugh, but it dissolves into a shaky whimper as you press a little firmer. "You’re such a little brat," she whispers, but the way she rocks her hips into your touch betrays her. "Gonna make it up to me? Use that pretty little mouth of yours?"

At that, you capture her mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing her smirk and groaning against her lips as Agatha slams into you even harder. Your hands roam, greedy and impatient, trailing over Rio’s stomach, slipping past the waistband of her delicate lace underwear. You moan into her mouth as you feel just how wet she is, a shuddering breath leaving her as your fingers slide through the mess you’ve made of her.

Agatha grips your hips tighter. “That’s it, sweetheart,” she growls, voice vibrating with pleasure. "Fuck her like you mean it, baby—make her fall apart for us."

You thrust two fingers inside Rio with ease, curling them just right, coaxing a gorgeous whimper from her lips. She braces herself against the couch, hips bucking into your hand, her breath hitching every time your thumb brushes over her clit. Her head tips back, exposing the perfect column of her throat, and you can’t resist—you latch onto her skin, kissing and biting your way down as she unravels in your hands.

Agatha doesn’t relent for a second; her pace is relentless, her moans growing heavier, and her body pressed so tightly against yours you feel everything.

The three of you move together, bodies lost in each other, the pleasure mounting higher and higher until finally, you all break at once.

Rio’s cry is the first to ring out, her body tensing, fingers tangling in your hair as she falls apart beneath your touch. Agatha is next, hips stuttering, a rough groan tumbling from her lips as she pushes deep one final time.

You shatter between them, pleasure washing over you like a tidal wave, drowning in the heat of their bodies, the grip of their hands, the sound of their pleasure mixing with yours in the dark, breathless space of the living room.

—

The three of you barely make it up the stairs, hands and lips desperate, laughter mixing with breathless moans as you stumble into the bedroom. Agatha ditches the harness the second you reach the edge of the bed, tossing it aside before Rio pushes her down onto the mattress with an eager gleam in her eye. Straddling her wife, Rio hooks one of Agatha’s legs over her own, pressing their bodies together, the heat between them instantly electrifying

Agatha smirks up at her, hands tracing over Rio’s thighs before gripping her hips, guiding her down. The first slow grind of Rio’s core against her own pulls a shuddering gasp from them both, the wetness between their bodies making the movement slick and unbearably good.

You don’t hesitate to join, slotting yourself in behind Rio, one hand slipping between your own legs while the other moves to cup her breast. You drag your lips along the curve of her shoulder, sucking marks into her skin, letting your tongue flick behind her ear just to feel the way she shudders from it.

“Fuck, look at you two,” Agatha groans, voice thick with arousal as she meets Rio’s slow, intoxicating rhythm. “You’re both so fucking gorgeous.”

Rio whimpers, grinding down harder, her pleasure clear in the way her body trembles against you. You can feel the slickness coating your fingers as you fuck yourself, matching their pace, your own moans spilling against Rio’s flushed skin.

“C’mon, Daddy,” you emphasise her title, fingers twisting her nipple just enough to make her gasp. “Let me hear you.”

Rio’s head falls back against your shoulder, her breath ragged as Agatha grips her ass, pulling her down with each roll of her hips, making sure she feels every bit of her. The pace quickens, and the heat between you all mounts unbearably fast. You can feel it building; Rio’s legs begin to tremble, Agatha’s nails dig into her skin, and your own fingers speed up, chasing that blinding pleasure.

“Oh, fuck—” Rio gasps, her body going rigid as her climax crashes over her. She grips your thigh, nails digging in as she rides it out, the sound of Agatha’s deep groan telling you she’s right there with her, lost in the overwhelming bliss. The sight of them both cumming together pushes you over the edge as well, pleasure searing through your veins as your own orgasm takes hold, your body tensing and then shuddering against Rio’s.

For a long moment, all that fills the room is the sound of panting as your bodies tremble in the aftermath. Then, as the bliss slowly fades into warmth, Agatha lets out a breathless chuckle, running a lazy hand up Rio’s side.

“Well,” she muses, voice still hoarse from pleasure, “that’s one hell of a way to start the new year.”

“Yeah, if this is any indication of how the rest of the year’s gonna go, I’d say we’re in for a good one.” Rio laughs, head still resting against your shoulder, and you can’t help but grin, pressing a soft kiss to her damp skin. 

You hum an agreement as the three of you collapse onto the mattress in a tangled, sated heap, bodies exhausted but hearts so full. Whatever the year held, one thing was certain—you wouldn’t be facing it alone.

-----

Soooooooooo how do we all feel about the return of Neighbourly Care?

Agatha and Rio are rich MILF neighbours now ig... sugar mommies for reader yay or nay?

-----

taglist: @aceday @ctrlamira @lezbean-with-a-side-of-dilfs @noturlondonboy @darkangelchronicles @sevikasleftarm25 @kiaralee25 @4theluvofsapphos @lez-zuha @jujuu23 @gaylorvader @danveration @alwaysharmony @idkwhatever580 @lostbutlovely33 @sweetmidnights @6ange19 @masorciereviolette

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Objects in Motion

Part 2

Alpha!Billy Russo x Omega! Reader

Part 1 here

You’re deep in sleep when a loud bang wakes you.

Bolting up with a gasp, your heart pounds in your chest for a few minutes. You’re not sure what the noise was- a door slamming shut, or maybe something falling in the apartment above you, but the echo of it in your head keeps you awake for a while, hating that your anxiety doesn’t let you sleep.

.

You go to another dry cleaners, you do your best to avoid going out. You go to work, and back home for a couple of weeks, worried that someone will find you and scold you for what you’ve done.

You think about being scolded by him, you doubt you’d be able to last a moment in his presence.

After you’d ensured the safe delivery of the coat, did you finally research the owner.

William Russo, his stoic, borderline angry expression staring back at you through your computer screen had only made you aroused all over again.

This, this was the Alpha with a scent so magnetic, you couldn’t resist it.

He was rich, a CEO, and you could only look around your threadbare apartment and sigh sadly, there was nothing you could offer him that would interest him.

So, you try to move on with your life, work hard so you can afford to buy alleviators for your next heat, and stay away from alphas that would no doubt hurt you.

The art museum was a big comfort. On a Friday evening, when it was at its emptiest, you’d go in, and stare at all the paintings. You’d study the brushstrokes till your eyes burned, items like Starry Night, and Street Light were beautiful works that always made you dare to dream of a life better than the one you were in. Today however, The Lovers was the one that kept you most occupied.

Two people, with white cloths over their heads as they lean into each other, kissing.  Hidden from each other’s sight, you wonder if the painting only holds its romance because of the seemingly anonymity of the subjects. If the mystery was removed, would there be more love, or less?

It was kind of how you felt right now, pained, searching for something that you weren’t familiar with. An alpha, to call your own.

None of the alphas you’d met had ever been right for you. There was an entitlement written into them, the belief that your station was lesser, so you were supposed to submit. Alphas constantly lived with that air of superiority surrounding them, and they were easily upset when you did not give them what they wanted. 

The alphas you dated were wrong to think that submission was something freely given, in reality, it had to be earned.

You wondered if the alpha on your mind would ask nicely.

Probably not. It was a good thing he existed only in your fantasies.

.

Your omega privilege means you get to stay a little after closing. You smile gratefully in the security guard’s direction when he comes to escort you out.

“We’ve got a new piece coming in tomorrow. You won’t be able to stay late anymore, but I’m sure you’ll like it.”

You smile in delight.

“Do you know which one it is?” You ask.

“Not really, not much of an art guy, but it’s a big deal, really expensive.”

You nod, enthusiastically.

“Well, I can’t wait.” You reply, wishing the beta a good night when you finally reach the exit, pulling your jacket tighter around you to protect from the cold.

.

Not for the first time in his life, he feels the loneliness. 

It’s only that he’s never felt it quite like this. Usually, people just didn’t want him, his mother gave him up when he was a baby, and he’d never really understood why. Through his life, people had assumed he’d present as a beta, because he’d been a scrawny kid. Things had only gotten worse when at ten, his alpha denomination had shown through.

Then, everyone had wanted a piece of him, an opportunity to say that they’d fought an alpha and won, uncaring of his age and size- the world had forced him to become ruthless very quickly.

He’d let the world’s rejection shape him, and he’d only realised that when he’d met Frank.

Frank had made him understand, that alphas were not supposed to be cruel, but rather the very definition of safety and security.

He'd tried his best to ignore the hollow feeling inside of him, and that had worked.

At least, it had, up until he'd smelled that stupid coat.

Now, it was like someone had taken a piece of him and ran off with it, ripped a carefully placed bandage off and left him with an open wound. He could feel the absence, like if it was a whole other person in the room.

He wanted his omega.

It was all he’d thought about now, as he pressed the coat to his nose every night, struggling to catch her fading scent, he wondered if he’d ever be able to sleep again when the scent fully faded.

He keeps going, maybe he even pushes himself harder, his work distracts him, helps him keep a clear head.

He’d even accepted a job to secure artwork for the museum, even though his specialty was protecting people, and Frank was usually the man that handled asset protection.

He’s following closely behind The Scream when he stops dead in his tracks.

One of his employees tosses him a confused glance, but he ignores it as he takes a deep inhale. 

He’d know that vanilla scent anywhere, the smell of apples mixed in and his heart gives an eager kick.

Surely not-

He turns his head, sees a painting of two lovers hiding from each other, kissing through a shroud of white cloth. He studies it for a moment, his mind racing at speeds he can’t fathom.

When the painting gets too far ahead, he turns and resumes his stride, thinking about all the ways he can do his best to get what he wants.

.

He gets permission to access the security footage of the museum.

Who’s really going to deny an alpha anyway?

Billy finds her, or at least the back of her head, and he can’t help the excitement that after weeks of searching, he’s managed to get lucky and obtain a lead on her.

He talks to the security guard that walked her out. With a sleepy voice over the phone, the man tells him that she’s a frequent visitor to the museum on Fridays, and she doesn’t cause any trouble so he lets her stay a little after closing.

“She just likes looking at the pieces, and I can’t be mean to an omega as shy as her.”

Billy’s mouth twitches upward, amused at the biological imprint inside everyone to protect omegas. The men who’d done her a favour to deliver his coat had said near the same thing.

It had made him fond, of a sweet girl, that would no doubt be spooked if he showed up at her home unannounced. Even if he now had the means to trace her back to her home, he couldn’t take the risk. He had to play this right.

.

When you hear Edvard Munch’s The Scream is on display, you vibrate with excitement. Instead of going the opening week, you wait till your usual time the next Friday, when hopefully there’s much less of a crowd to contend with.

It’s not completely empty, but you’re okay with the sparse crowd, you smile, tiptoeing to peek over shoulders so that you can catch a sight of it before you’re at the front.

You love everything about it, the colour and the expressionism of it, you wonder how much the paint has faded over time. The little paragraph beside the painting describes an infinite scream, a universal anxiety, and you think you can almost feel that as you stare at it, the idea that you’re being watched sending a nervous thrill down your spine.

When you move away from the painting however, the feeling lingers. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes to shake the feeling, you don’t understand how a painting can have such an effect.

To clear your head, you find an impressionist nearby, Monet’s reflections of clouds on a lily pond, and you stand in front of it, letting out a long sigh.

When the distinct smell of bergamot hits you, you stiffen. 

Your heart squeezes into your throat, and you try to look around as casually as possible, betas turn to look at you as they scent your distress in the air. 

Did you feel like you were being watched- because you were actually being watched?

You take in another breath, and this time, you’re sure.

Cracked pepper, citrus- 

The alpha was here.

Someone says your name behind you, and you turn in fright.

There he was. Dressed down in casual clothes, trying to blend in with the people around him- as if an alpha as handsome as him ever could.

Billy Russo was devastatingly gorgeous up close.

But you were fucked.

Your eyes widen and you take a step back, knowing that this was definitely about stealing his coat. He would no doubt try to make you pay for cleaning- or worse yet- a new coat entirely.

Your body flushes with fear as you back away from him on shaky legs.

His head tilts as he watches you go, dark eyes caught on your retreating form.

“Don’t run, omega.” He says easily, taking a single stride as you back away, his presence looming over you, igniting something in your stomach like a match being struck.

You make a small sound in the back of your throat, and you do exactly what he says not to.

You run.

Well, not exactly.

More like a quick walk, looking back to see if he follows, you beeline for the bathroom, hoping to hide in there for a moment.

You groan, splashing your face with water, internally grumbling over what you've gotten yourself into.

You should have never grabbed that stupid coat with your stupid omega senses always searching for the right alpha. What did you think? That just because he’d had an amazing scent meant that he wanted to take care of you? 

No, he was probably going to scold you, and force you to pay him back, and you couldn’t afford three thousand for a coat. 

Your throat tightens in panic, your body flushes with fear.

You couldn’t think too much on what he would do if he caught you, all you needed to focus on right now, was getting away.

So you take a deep breath and you shed your jacket, tucking it under your arm and stepping out of the bathroom behind someone. 

There’s not a lot of people, but luckily you know the museum, and you take the most secluded paths that you doubt anyone unfamiliar to the museum would know of.

You sigh happily when you see the exit door in sight, making large meaningful steps, looking back every now and then. Behind you is empty, and you think that you might have actually lost him.

It sends a pang of sadness through you, but you shake your head to shove it away.

You look back once more when you push your way through the exit doors, making sure the path behind you is clear of any six foot alphas.

And you walk right into him.

You’re not sure it is at first, but his size and smell give it away. Your face is pressed securely to his chest, and his hands come up to grip your upper arms firmly.

You raise your head in panic, trying to wrench back from him.

“Relax omega, you’re not in any trouble, I promise.” He says, something in his voice that makes his words sound believable.

You whine in distress.

“Please, I’m sorry, I can’t afford to replace your coat. I shouldn’t have taken it.” You plead, voice wobbling with the struggle to speak under duress.

“Shh, little one, I’m not here to ask you for money.”

His words don’t register in your head, and you begin to cry. Thick swells of tears fall from the corners of your eyes.

“I can’t pay.” You struggle out in a tiny voice.

He grunts, his hands move to cup your face, your tears spilling onto his fingers instead.

“Omega.” He says meaningfully.

The command in his tone makes you look up at him, brain going quiet, the power of his voice catching your attention easily. His stern expression softens.

“I’m not here to make you pay for anything, and I promise you’re not in any trouble.”

You make a little sniffle.

“ ‘M not?” You ask weakly.

The corner of his mouth curves up.

“No, I just want to talk.” 

“Talk?” You repeat dumbly.

His thumbs trace over your cheekbones gently, a soft tingling sensation swims in your head and settles at the top of your spine. Your eyelids flutter as you watch him nod.

“I’ve been searching for you for weeks, omega, since you left me that coat drenched in your sweet scent, I haven’t had a clear thought since.”

You gulp.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

“Don’t be sorry just-” He squeezes his eyes shut as if he’s looking for the right words, “Have dinner with me. Tonight. My treat.”

You take a deep breath, eyes widening.

“I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.”

He lets out a swift breath, you worry that you might be aggravating him.

“What aren’t you sure about? Your safety?”

You feel your heart pick up its pace beneath your ribcage, tormenting your body with the feeling of panic.

You reach up, cupping his hands in yours and peeling them off your cheeks. 

“Alphas are… notorious for getting angry when they don’t get their way.” You reply anxiously, your hands uncurling from his, filled with so much trepidation. 

“I understand, but give me a chance to prove myself. There’s something between us, omega, you just have to open yourself up to it.”

You blink, stomach flipping as you debate your options.

You eye him warily, too afraid to say no, too scared of how he would react.

You take another step back, and his face looks pained, his body tense.

You shake your head, scared, taking another cautious step away.

“Please don’t run.” He says softly, it makes you pause.

Maybe… maybe a chance wouldn’t be so bad.

“What about lunch tomorrow?” Somewhere bright and public that would make you feel safer about being around him.

He lets out a slow breath.

“Lunch is great. Where?”

You think for a moment.

“We can meet right here, there’s a place not far from here with nice sandwiches.”

He inclines his head.

“Sandwiches are great.”

You give him a soft smile of amusement, still a little unsure.

“Okay, we’ll meet here tomorrow? Around 12?”

He nods, digging into his pockets for a moment before pulling a card out and extending it to you.

You blink, a little cautious, reaching for the obsidian coloured paper in his hand. You study the raised silver lettering, his name, his job title, his company.

“The one on the left is my cell. Let me know when you get here. If you want, we can look around the museum too.”

Something flips in your chest at the thought. You wonder what he thought of The Scream.

“No,” You mumble, shaking your head, “The museum is packed on a Saturday. I hate crowds.”

He nods in understanding.

“No crowds then, maybe we can take a walk in the park.”

“Maybe.” You reply, still a little unsure of this entire scenario.

“You're safe, Omega, I promise.”

You offer a sad smile.

“That's what they all say.”

.

He was going to kill every Alpha that had ever made you feel unsafe.

He sits in his car, after you'd denied his offer to at least take you home. 

Your scent fades where he'd touched you, his body demanding more. Apples, so fucking sweet his mouth waters. 

Halfway to his home, a text comes in from you, shyly informing him that you'd made it home.

He'd asked, wanted to make sure that you were safe as the late evening had turned to night.

He keeps it simple, types out a small message to put you at ease.

Thank you. Sweet dreams

.

.

.

A/N: Pretty sure y'all are gonna hate this. Sorry.

Also, just asking for more without leaving any kind of feedback makes me feel kinda used 😅

[comatosebunny09]

As a result of watching more dramas, humor me.

You plan to go home for the holidays to spend them with your parents. 

Your mother’s been setting you up on blind dates in hopes of eventually finding you a match. She reasons you’re not getting any younger, so it’s time you settle down and start working on a family. Her intentions are good, but you just wish she’d stop badgering you. 

You don’t necessarily live the lifestyle where you can afford to have a partner right now.

You work for Onychinus’ leader, Sylus, as an assassin. You’re at the peak of your game, so much so that you’re considered his right hand by his enemies. You also secretly harbor feelings for your boss, but you know they’re fruitless because you think a relationship, let alone with you, is the furthest thing from his mind.

Anyways, you’re drinking at one of Sylus’ bars one evening, venting to him about your mother. He always humors you when you’re not working—you bring a certain flair to his life that he admits makes his days much more entertaining.

“Why don’t I pretend to be your boyfriend, then? Just to get her off your back,” he suggests with an amused crinkle to his eyes, watching you as he sips his whiskey.

You snort incredulously. Sylus and boyfriend are never two words you would imagine fitting in the same sentence. Still, you can’t deny entertaining the idea of what it’d be like to be something…more to him. 

You brush him off as just humoring you as usual, snatching your coat from the barstool and fixing your boss with a sardonic smirk. 

“Yeah, right. See ya around, bossman.” 

Your flight home leaves first thing in the morning. As much as you would like to stick around to shoot the shit with him, you need your rest to deal with your mother come morning.

Fast forward, and you’re back in your childhood home. You feel strange, being in your cutesy, innocent bedroom like there isn’t so much invisible blood on your hands and like you haven’t long shed the sheltered skin you once wore when you were younger. 

Your parents don’t know the full extent of what you do. They know you make a generous amount of money—you’ve bought them luxurious cars and clothes and sent them on exclusive vacations. You would buy them a plot of land with a beautiful home built from the ground up if they’d let you, but your parents insist on staying where they’re familiar.

An old childhood friend’s having a get-together. Your mother insists you go—this is the perfect opportunity for you to network and possibly find a future husband. Despite your protests, she pressures you, and you begrudgingly agree. 

You stick out like a sore thumb, donned in expensive fabrics at the party. Years of being an assassin and seductress have given you the gift of gab, so you’re the life of the party. Eventually, people start inquiring about your love life. Their questions become so invasive you step out momentarily to gather yourself. Just because you’re good at flapping your gums doesn’t mean you don’t occasionally become overwhelmed.

You decide to text Sylus to help ease your anxiety. You text each other quite often, and someone peering at your relationship from the outside would assume you’re just close friends. 

[ Sylus ]: that bad?

[ You ]: yeah. they won’t stop asking when i’ll get married. 

[ You ]: it’s really pissing me off. 

[ Sylus ]: lol

[ Sylus ]: well why dont you leave?

[ You ]: because i know i’ll never hear the end of it.

[ Sylus ]: hmm.

[ Sylus ]: would you like some company then?

[ You ]: 😏😏😏 what are you gonna teleport here or something?

[ Sylus ]: look up.

On cue, you glance skyward as the telltale shadow of a crow circles the ground around you. You squint your eyes against the sun’s brilliance, making out distinct iridescent feathers circling above. “Mephisto?” you suspiciously inquire.

You look down, only to be met with a familiar swatch of scarlet and white. “Sylus?!” you shriek, jumping back and clutching your pounding heart, almost having shit yourself.

He wears that customary smirk, looking so cool with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He wears a tailored, dark suit, his blazer hanging off his shoulders, ruffled by the summery breeze. “In the flesh.”

You swallow against the stickiness of your throat, wide-eyed and feeling like you’re dreaming. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Sylus examines his nails, his tone conspiratorial. “Well, I was just passing through—”

“Like hell you were!” You aim an accusatory finger at him. “We’re, like, 1,700 miles from the N109! There’s no way you’re just ‘passing through’!”

He shrugs, feigning innocence. 

A few of your high schoolmates, summoned by the commotion, gather in the courtyard behind you. The crowd oohs and ahs, whispering as they study your tall, devastatingly handsome boss. One of the women asks who he is, admiration evident in his voice. You know that tone too well: if you don’t claim him, I will. 

You swallow your resolve, seizing the opportunity to shut everyone up. 

You sidle up to your boss with a fake smile, encircling one of his arms with both of yours, your hands wrapped around his impressive bicep. You cling to him, playing up the theatrics of a docile lover. It makes you sick.

Sylus smiles down at you in your peripheral, the omniscient lift of his brow letting you know that he’s never going to let you live down what next comes from your mouth.

“This is my fiancé!” You pat his chest with a giggle pinched from your lungs, cold dread dropping into your belly. 

What the hell are you even doing?

[thus-wrote-mrs-zeppeli]

Love your work 😍 tell me what are your headcanons for Johnny, Gyro, Hot Pants, and Diego in a scenario where they learn that their partner has actually been working for Valentine the whole time and some time later sacrificed themselves to atone for their betrayal

Thank you!! Very Sweet (heh) of you to say!

Intriguing request, it gave me some thoughts immediately and we love angst here so yeah~enjoy~

When you say sacrifice themselves I immediately assume you mean reader dies to atone, so that is what we’re going with (with variation of this for Hot Pants and Diego)

-

Genre: Angst

Content, Plz read: reader death, religious (and regular) guilt and themes, canon typical violence, Diego kills reader in his part

Style: micro fic/fic outline, different lengths

Characters: Johnny Joestar, Gyro Zeppeli, Hot Pants, and Diego Brando in:

“My darling, if I hurt you, I’m sorry

Forgive me, and please, say you are mine”

All this time…you’ve been working for the enemy, all this time.

Johnny Joestar: You had Intended in the beginning to obey your simple directive. Retrieve whatever corpse parts Johnny Joestar and Gyro Zeppeli had acquired, and eliminate them if possible. The method was up to you, and as wary as they were of you, there was no way they could know of your true nature. All you had to do was wait for their guard to drop enough for you to make your move.

Getting close to Johnny was all part of the act, initially. Though the admiration you felt for his resolve was genuine…and so was the eventual real affection you found yourself feeling for him in the quiet moments you spent with him during your short periods of rest at night. You told yourself (and the President, in your infrequent status updates) that you’d wait just a little longer before making your move under the pretense that you were aiming to procure more corpse parts. If you waited longer, maybe they’d find more. You’re sure your consistent inaction is what prompted Valentine to call off your mission, and order you return to his side (since Clearly you needed a reminder of your place in all this, and you performed your tasks more successfully when you felt the inherent threat of his presence.)

You had wished Johnny had just shot you right then and there when you obeyed Valentine’s command like the lapdog you were, shamefully returning to him, unwilling to murmur your apologies given how entirely dishonest and empty it would sound now that you’ve thoroughly betrayed him.

Why didn’t he just shoot you…he knew you were the enemy now. You knew Johnny had the resolve to do it. So why didn’t he just kill you himself?

It made your hands quiver with guilt, even more so when it dawned on you why.

He had doubt.

If you were truly his enemy, you had plenty of opportunities where you could have killed him and Gyro in the middle of the night and taken the corpse parts, or taken advantage of an enemy stand attack to quickly dispatch them, or the myriad of other opportunities you had to complete your mission. But you chose not to.

And that is why he hesitated.

You had to atone. You thought about it carefully, with lots of time to consider how you should, since the President also no longer trusted you and kept you on a tight leash by not even giving you anymore tasks to perform. You knew he was just observing you. Waiting for the inevitable betrayal you were planning, but keeping you alive as a potential human shield should Johnny still harbor any affection for you.

You settled on a phrase. A quick string of words you prayed you could say faster than the President could react to. Nothing sappy or sentimental about how you regretted betraying Johnny or that you really loved him and wished the best for him…something practical.

You knew you wouldn’t be capable of harming Valentine physically in your position, not with how powerful his stand was, and especially not with how carefully he was watching you.

So you’d give Johnny a hint. A vital piece of the puzzle. Johnny was smart, even if he couldn’t fully understand the meaning of your words immediately you knew he could still use them. Valentine’s hasty decision to keep you alive and close to him had backfired quite miraculously, because you had come to comprehend (at least to an extent) the new ability the holy corpse blessed him with.

The President had brought you along on that damn train, and so many had pursued.

And as soon as the opportunity presented itself, the moment Johnny was right in front of you, even though you knew you would be slaughtered immediately, you had resolved in your heart to warn Johnny about Love Train.

“The holy corpse redirects misfortune!”

It’s so…vague. Is it too vague? But that’s what it does, that’s the only way you could think to put it. The clearest and only way.

The bullets from Valentine’s revolver tore through your body as soon as the words left your mouth. You wondered why he had to shoot you so many times? He really was “Funny” Valentine…surely only one or two shots from that close would’ve been enough, this was just overkill.

How could you make jokes to yourself at a time like this…?

Because you had already accepted your death? Is it really possible to face something without fear just because you knew it was coming? That couldn’t be it. But maybe it was, for some things, and depending on who you are.

It was all so vague, so unsatisfying, your consciousness, your life, it was all fading so fast but at least you got to see Johnny again. Your vision was blurry and your mind fading but…even when he was looking at the scene unfolding before him with horror and agony, you could still see the subtle, quiet, but ever persistent resolve as even in all the chaos he was trying to piece together the meaning of your words so he would not need to hesitate anymore and waste even a second of your sacrifice.

You had said that for a reason. Willingly sacrificed whatever minuscule chance of survival you might’ve had if you just stayed quiet, to give him the slightest, vaguest advantage in this fight.

…

You too. One more name added to the list of so many people who left him behind. It’s bitter, it’s cold, there’s no silver lining in his mind, not a real one anyways. Did you have to die for Valentine to be defeated? Maybe not. If things had gone a bit differently, maybe you, and Gyro would still be alive right now.

But he can’t keep looking back. Even if all he can do is thank you both for the ways you’ve supported him and helped him grow, and make sure you were returned to your homes and properly buried, he would do all he could to make sure you were given the respect you both deserve. That was the highest way to honor you both. To keep living, since it was your lives that touched his and strengthened his resolve, a crucial push, a guiding hand, a light along his path. To honor you would be to move forward.

Gyro Zeppeli: A spy of the President, sent to observe him, try to figure out everything about him…Everything…age, height, weight, occupation, place of origin, motivation to join the race, real name, abilities, notable personality traits, etc…Most Importantly, you were to look for weaknesses. And if you couldn’t determine any, make one.

He feels so STUPID when he overheard you secretly speaking to someone over the telephone, concluding the call with a very clear “understood, Mr. President”.

He should’ve known better. Of course someone like you wasn’t actually interested in him, he had fallen so easily for your little guise as a spectator to the race. The story had sounded believable enough, but he accepted it quickly because you were skilled at flattering and buttering him up. Of course he wasn’t going to question you, not with how you praised his performance in the race, marveled at his talents, and shyly confessed you found him roguishly charming~

He bought you drinks at checkpoints when he could, and you would smile and ask him “shouldn’t you be resting?” and he’d say yes, but that he didn’t mind sacrificing an hour or so of downtime so he could spend it with you instead.

Well. If he insisted…you wouldn’t object~

It sounded so genuine when you gently placed your hand on his arm and asked him questions about himself.

He liked you a lot, asking you about yourself in turn and kissing you goodbye when it was time for him to leave. He still maintained his guard though, in a manner that implied he had been raised to keep certain things secret no matter what. But even his unwillingness to open up about certain things was information you could use to draw some conclusions.

You had been told Gyro was some dangerous threat, some bad man that you had to do everything in your power to stop. And maybe you had never been the best judge of character given you worked for Funny Valentine, but from your observance of Gyro…he wasn’t some evil force at all.

Your confidence was wavering, and with the way he was already talking eagerly about taking you back with him to his home country, for the first time in your life you were beginning to wonder if the path you were walking was really the right one.

You had intended that telephone conversation to be your last one, only making it because if you didn’t then someone would be sent to check on you. You had meant to come clean, confess to Gyro and Johnny, and try to make amends.

You had never expected when you were given this order directly from the President that you’d be chasing Gyro down and anxiously begging him to hear you out, because you feared losing the man you grew to love.

You know he’s stubborn. And he didn’t listen when he was really upset about something.

He finally looks at you when you actually step in front of him.

You had seen him angry before, but you felt the true weight of that intensity when it was actually fully directed at you.

It’s much worse to hear Gyro loudly tell you to get out of his way, and that he never wanted to see you again. It’s different when he’s yelling at you. You can’t think of anything to say, you have no defense…you tricked him, took advantage of his affection for you, all in the name of literally one of the evilest men currently alive.

Gyro deserved to be furious with you, so you stepped out of his way, your head lowered in shame. You wouldn’t be seeing him again anytime soon, if at all.

But you would attempt to assist him, in any small ways you could. Feeding false information to their enemies, and even silently taking out a few of the President’s hired assassins. You had intended to never run into Gyro again, to respect his wish of never seeing you, but it didn’t take long for the President to catch on to your betrayal. The reports he gave to you became vaguer and vaguer, until all you knew was that there was another stand user assassin waiting in Philadelphia.

True, and an effective trap for you. He could kill Many birds with one stone if he could get rid of you along with everyone else he planned on disposing of.

With no other knowledge of what you were looking for, you were a little late in finding the assassin. D-I-S-C-O was already fighting Gyro, but the silver lining was that he was so preoccupied with Gyro he didn’t notice you sneaking up behind him.

Despite how tough he liked to talk, you saw the momentary relief in Gyro’s eyes at the sight of you still alive.

“I thought I told you I didn’t want to see you again,” he huffs, but he didn’t have the same fire in his tone like when he was actually upset at you.

“I just saved your life,” you point out, trying to suppress the urge to melt right into his arms on the spot.

“I had it under control.”

“You’re welcome~”

He gave you a handsome smirk: “I still don’t trust you.”

Now that part is true, even if he’s smiling in the moment he’s not going to just move past what you had done so easily.

Before you could even respond, a flicker of movement behind him caught your eye. Whatever it was, you had only a moment to react, and all you could do was shove Gyro out of the way before it hit him.

So it hits you instead.

Another enemy…that you had missed. Gyro quickly dispatches whoever it was, but the damage from the attack was undoubtedly fatal. A poison, deep in your system and targeting your vital organs. Gyro carried you off to safety, but as soon as he had a chance to properly examine you, he’d know it was too late. Despite never telling you, your observations had led you to conclude Gyro had an expansive medical knowledge. You were too far gone, and he’d see it immediately.

He sets you down as gently as he can muster, propping your back up against the wall of a building.

He places his index and middle finger onto the pulse of your neck, and then places his palm against your forehead, a bit forcefully in his urgency.

He mutters a curse in italian under his breath. Not even the miraculous powers of Gyro Zeppeli can stop an inevitable death.

“Trust me now?” you ask, your strength failing you as you try to reach a hand up to touch his jaw.

“Shut up,” he counters, weaker than you’ve ever heard from him. His shoulders are shaking, his hand clutching yours tightly as he frantically searches for an answer. Medical knowledge couldn’t solve something like this on its own, and he couldn’t even identify what kind of poison you were inflicted by. Some doctor he turned out to be…

He’s just denying that the poison is unique to the stand. Even if he had studied every single poison in the world, he would not be able to identify and treat this one. He couldn’t even expel it with the spin if he didn’t know what it was.

“Maybe there’s a…hospital around here…” he suggests, reaching to pick you up again, his breathing intensifying not from the recent enemy encounters, but from the anxiety shaking his core. To not be able to save someone, especially someone he cares about…it was a type of fear even he couldn’t bear, despite the way he was raised.

“You know better than anyone that it’s too late,” you point out quietly. The feeling of your own body shutting down…it was frightening, but somehow you didn’t feel as scared as you thought you should be.

He’s shushing you again, trying to pick you up. Despite his trembling, Gyro’s hands were still steady when he reached for you.

You use the last bit of your strength to take his hands in yours.

“Huh…” you murmur. “So even you can be gentle sometimes.”

“Course I can.” He musters a smile, squeezing your hand slightly. It soothes you. You like to believe he’s pretty good at being a doctor.

“I feel so calm, even though I know I’m going to die.”

“Might be a symptom of the poison…sedative properties that are making you feel more relaxed…”

“Ha…that’s kinda nice for me…”

“Where is your family?” he changes the subject.

“My family?”

“Yeah. I’ll make sure you make it home.”

You don’t have much time left, stammering out where your family is, and muttering your thank yous as your body gives out.

He catches you, laying your body down gently and placing his cape over you. A temporary arrangement until the situation calms and he can come back for your body.

Just wait on him a moment, he’ll come back for you. He promises.

Hot Pants: Your lover was a guarded woman, but something about your charisma somehow dropped those defenses just enough for even someone like her to open up. At least a bit. Really you’re just using your stand ability: Heart of Glass. It heightens emotions, targeting deep-seated ones. Great for inciting violence, or loosening lips…making you one of President Valentine’s favorite stand users at his disposal. Hot Pants was much too mysterious for his liking, so you were sent to investigate. A worthwhile assignment…even though it took you a good while to learn anything, the discovery that she certainly had a stand was Very Valuable.

You were her companion, a partner to keep the freezing nights a little warmer, and her time in the race less lonely. But despite being the closest person to her, she didn’t open up easily. You really had to work your stand to worm your way into her heart and get past that stoic, distant politeness she used even with you.

It took time, but you got through.

One starry night, as you sat by her side in another comfortable but quiet moment, you finally got it. Like the clicking of a lock when the code has finally been cracked, you had gotten through the barrier of her heart, and you were FINALLY going to get SOMETHING to report back to F.V. He was getting real impatient with your meager reports.

You weren’t used to Hot Pants touching you first, usually it was you initiating any sort of affection. But tonight, she asked your permission to put her head on your shoulder, and you said yes, of course.

Her hair is soft, you intertwine your hand with hers and she actually squeezes your hand, unusual for her.

“I don’t know what it is about tonight…” she sighs. A good sign for you, she doesn’t realize you have a stand. “But…would you let me confess something to you?”

“I’ll always be willing to listen to you,” you smile.

Finally, she opens up. Just about why she has chosen the path of a nun, but it is enough.

Guilt. Guilt. A woman entirely weighed down by soul crushing guilt.

And she expresses how even though she doesn’t show it or say it, your companionship has been a source of comfort for her. She’s distant with you because she has not been absolved of her great sin, it weighs so heavily on her that she cannot allow herself to get too close. It would not be fair, because she can’t give you the attention you deserve while this guilt consumes her.

And now your own guilt is weighing on your mind. You release her heart from the chains of your stand, and she exhales heavily, leaning against you a little more. It must’ve been exhausting, fighting a silent battle with your stand for so long and not even knowing.

“Feeling like a weight has been lifted?” you ask quietly.

She replies with a quick hum. “Somehow…yes. Thank you. For listening.”

Your turn to experience the weight of guilt. This whole time…you’ve been playing her for a fool. You were a liar, and you hadn’t even felt bad about it til right now. If she was a sinner, then you were the devil.

“May I confess something in turn?” you ask.

She’s tired from the impact of your stand, but she nods, responding with a firm: “of course,” and for once you don’t feel like a near invincible retainer to the President, and instead you’re nothing more than a deceptive snake.

“I owe the President a great debt,” you mutter as calmly as you can. But she immediately stiffens and pulls away from you, despite her tiredness her senses sharpen immediately, her hand going to that strange weapon by her side.

Her hand hovered over it, her gaze wary, the trust you had built immediately cracking, one wrong word away from shattering, but she would permit you to speak. “He took me in when I had no one, granted me a new life. I would be free from my debt after…” the words taste bitter on your tongue, but they are accurate: “…this last job.”

Just a job. She was just another job for you to dissect and send back to the President.

She is quiet, back to that stoic visage, but the slight narrowing of her eyebrows gave away how much you have shaken her.

She turns away, staring off at nothing in the distance, but you wouldn’t be able to break through this new guard.

“Then you’d best report back, before your President begins to wonder where you are.”

Her voice is cold, and she cannot disguise how upset she is right now.

You want to confess you’ve even used your stand on her. But it’s better if you just leave. Right now is not the time for words.

…

How long did not matter, this was a fitting punishment for someone like you. The manifestation of your guilt circled around you, unable to reach you from where you had stationed yourself on a pile of discarded items, but waiting for you, eternally.

Hot Pants stood in the entryway of the garbage dump with the appearance of a church.

You had killed Axl RO in your attempt to save Hot Pants, despite knowing to an extent how Civil War functioned.

With the entirety of the specters’ attention on you, Johnny, Gyro, and Hot Pants could leave. Three lives at the cost of yours…that was a sacrifice you were willing to make.

“Go,” is all you said, as firmly as you could, despite the nearly uncontrollable urge to beg her to not leave you like this. This was…terrifying. You wanted to cry and scream and beg her to find some way to save you. But she felt like this every night when she had to relive the cause of her own guilt in her nightmares. If she could act unaffected, then you could too.

From her spot in the doorway, she shuts her eyes, bows her head, and intertwines her fingers. Her lips move. You are too far away to hear what she’s saying, but you know it’s a prayer.

When she opens her eyes, gives you a firm nod, a few stray tears trailing down her face betraying her mask of stoicism. You nod in turn.

She lingers a moment, and you watch her too, having one last silent exchange. One more heart to heart.

She’s forgiven you, but really, she didn’t hate you for your initial betrayal in the first place.

Though she wished you hadn’t been so hasty to pay for your sins. Now she was going to feel even more guilt, leaving you behind like this, but there was no changing your mind on this. And if this eased the weight of your sins, she’d be a hypocrite to try and take that away from you.

It’s hard to be strong when she turns away, so you don’t even try, giving in and burying your mouth in your hands and muffling your own screams for anyone to save you from this hell of your own making. But this is what you chose, and if it gave her another chance at finding what she wanted, you’d do it again.

Diego Brando: He had been Quite furious when you finally told him the President had offered you a very generous sum of money for all the information you had on Diego. Who could blame him for getting mad at you, after all, you could’ve gotten so much more if you had played your cards right! Why betray him if you couldn’t get more out of it? That’s what Really irks him about the mess you’ve made for him.

But it’s okay now. All is about to be forgiven. Your head rests on his lap and your skin loses its color due to the immense amount of blood you were losing from a massive gash from the middle of your chest all the way down to your stomach.

Of course Diego had used your guilt against you, even though you had planned to try and redeem yourself anyways.

You had told him literally everything you had observed during your employment under Funny Valentine, even the details you thought weren’t important; a genius like Dio could use literally anything that you say.

And after having you get on your knees and groveling for his forgiveness for a bit, you have officially exhausted both your usefulness and entertainment value.

Sure, he liked you a lot when you were sweethearts. And SURE he also would’ve betrayed you if there was a worthwhile reward on the line, but the fact of the matter is YOU betrayed HIM. It’s a shame really. He might’ve liked putting a ring on your finger and spoiling you rotten with the money he was going to win from the race. But you had to go and throw it allll away.

Still. He didn’t love the feeling of ripping you apart. Even though he had told himself you were nothing more than a pigeon, apparently all the time he had spent with you actually affected him. He stroked your cheek with a surprising amount of gentleness for what he had just done, watching you die, observing how your lips move…trying to say something to him, even now? Looked like you were trying to say his name, but he couldn’t tell if you were cursing his name or singing his praises in your final moments.

“Hm? I can’t quite understand you,” he sighs, and your eyes tear up and you try again but no sound will come out and for the first time in his life he finds himself looking away as someone dies right in front of him.

It’s so…frustrating. He thought it’d feel satisfying to tie up loose ends by getting rid of you. Instead it’s just a sort of hollow, dull feeling thrumming in his chest. Ugh. That same, disgusting feeling he got in the rare moments he made a mistake.

Mistakes felt terrible, but what he really hated was the regret that came with it.

He could shove it down for now, but he’d regret it later if he just left you like this, so he uses his influence to make sure you’re properly buried somewhere nice. And THEN he shoves it down. You can haunt him later. Right now he had a race to win and a President to defy at every turn.

-

Author’s note: I can’t believe you’ve been secretly working for the President, smh.

The title comes from the song: Return to Me

[hornyfor-redacted-onmain]

Date Day Pt. 2

Pieces of My Heart - Chapter 17 Stray Kids OT8 x reader, Soulmate AU Trigger Warning: Midly suggestive comment made, creepy behavior, and technical assault (reader gets grabbed)

Masterlist | Next Part

You got a message as you were getting ready. Having just finished taking a shower, you checked your phone to see that it was Sophie, who had sent you some memes and a sweet message asking how you were. You answered truthfully telling her you were good but still getting used to a new place. After a second to consider it, you sent her a photo of your two favorite outfit ideas with a question mark.

She answered back immediately.

Sophie oooh, date night? the first one looks really good, the second one is a little too revealing let me know how it goes :) Y/N yeah, first date. kinda nervous wish me luck!

The flood of sweet messages that followed made you smile. You took the outfit she had chosen (which included a beautiful soft sweater that just so happened to match Felixs’) and put it on. You finish getting ready just in time to hear a knock on the door, and you grab your keys and phone before opening the door.

You pause, and then hold up a finger. “Give me a second.”

For your birthday a year prior, you had been given a polaroid camera. The first few weeks you had been obsessed, taking pictures of everything and anything just to shake the polaroids out and feel cool doing it, but eventually you had gotten over it. The camera had been rediscovered in the process of packing your bags, and you had brought it along on a whim.

The sight waiting for you at the front door felt like the perfect opportunity to use it.

Felix and Hyunjin were both caught off guard when you snapped the first photo, but as you shake out the photo, they quickly get excited. They both pose for the second photo without you even having to ask. You hold up the first polaroid as the second one develops, showing it to the two boys with a smile as they crowd next to you to take a look.

Breathtakingly beautiful, and yet somehow homey, you were surprised that Hyunjin had toned down his date outfit compared to what he would normally wea. He had picked an all-black outfit that wouldn’t stand out so easily but still managed to make him look like a hundred bucks. He had his hair slicked back, and you knew his face would mostly be covered with a mask while out in public, but in the photo you could appreciate his model good looks in full.

Felix somehow managed to look ethereal, even with wide eyes of surprise. His mouth was slightly parted, having caught sight of the camera just before you took the photo. His hair was slightly messy, freckles barely seen with the washed-out coloring of the polaroid, but he looked just as beautiful as always, even though he was slightly blurry.

“Yah, a little warning would have been nice,” Felix said, even though he smiled down at the photo.

Hyunjin was already looking at the second. “Ah, this one came out so good. Do you mind if I take a photo of it?”

“Don’t go posting any photos on social media just yet. You don’t want fans to recognize you,” You warned.

“I know,” Hyunjin said, pulling out his phone. “I’ll post it later.”

You hear another snap and look back at Felix just in time to see him shaking out one last polaroid, and you roll your eyes. He smirks.

“Had to get one of you too. Especially when you look so breathtaking.”

“Hmm, they’d look so pretty in a photo shoot, wouldn’t they,” Hyunjin muttered, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye as he takes a photo of the polaroid. “All the beautiful clothes they could wear.”

Felix eyes the photo he took of you. “I think they’d look prettier if they weren’t wearing anything at all.”

“Felix!”

“Sorry babe,” He said, not looking sorry at all.

-0-0-

You weren’t normally a big fan of museums. The paintings were pretty enough, but they never really spoke to you the same way you assumed it did to more artistic people, like Hyunjin. Still, the instillation that he had brought you two for your date was not only the most colorful thing you had ever had the pleasure of walking through, but somehow also very open in its meaning.

You noticed it from the very first room you three walked in. It was covered in colorful strings, which at first just looked pretty, but from certain points in the room the strings would line up just right enough for an image to form. You spotted a butterfly first, and then what looked like a leaf.

Felix waved you over from the furthest corner, joined by two teenagers and a family of three.

“It’s the cocoon. I’m guessing that there’s a caterpillar somewhere,” he told you.

You looked around until you spotted another small group of people in a spot you hadn’t been to before. After pointing it out to him, the two of you walked over hand in hand to find that it was indeed the spot where the strings formed a caterpillar, and he grinned, leading you around the room to watch the entire process take place. You met back up with Hyunjin at the door to the next room, and he eyed your joined hands with a smirk.

“How are you liking the colors?” He asked Felix.

Felix looked back at the strings with wide eyes. “I’m more surprised they managed to form different images with the same strings.”

“Hmm, I think you’ll like this one too.”

Hyunjin led the two of you into the next room. The walls and sectioned off parts of the floor had what you assumed were cotton, only they were dyed in soft pastel colors that matched the soft pastel ombre of the walls and floors. The cotton in the sectioned of portions had small entrances, where workers would allow small groups of 3 or 4 people walk across the ground barefoot. Felix let out a small sound in surprise.

“Wow. It’s like the colors are … only kind of there, but still there. So white.”

You hummed. “I think it’s supposed to be the sky. Look, it’s mostly blue, red, orange, and pink. It’s like a sunset.”

“The cotton is the clouds,” Hyunjin agreed, taking Felix’s other hand. “Want to go walk on the clouds with me?”

Felix nodded, and the three of you made it over to the sectioned off portion. You had to wait a few minutes in the line to walk across, and the worker warned you all to walk slowly and to be careful, but once you felt the ‘clouds’ under your feet you knew that it was worth the wait. You were also immediately sure that it wasn’t cotton you were walking on.

“It’s so soft!” Felix exclaimed, wiggling his toes.

The boys waddled ahead of you, Hyunjin even reaching down to touch whatever you were walking on with his own hands in awe.

It really did feel like you were walking on a cloud.

The second installation wasn’t as interactive as the first two. It consisted of multiple pop-art paintings hanged around the room, and Hyunjin was more than eager to explain some of them to Felix. You, however, made your way around the room quickly, and with a quick thumbs up from the boys to show that it was okay, you advanced to the next room by yourself.

This one truly stumped you. You weren’t sure what it was, no matter how long you looked at it. It was a large pane of glass that nearly split the room in two, and splatters of paint littered across the glass. There were lots of dark blue and green peeking out in spots, but most of the glass was covered in bright red splatters, like someone had launched buckets of paint right at it.

You must have spent a long time staring at the art piece trying to understand because Hyunjin and Felix caught up to you, Hyunjin wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“It’s kind of sad, isn’t it,” he murmured.

You blinked. “I don’t get it.”

He pointed out the green and blue splotches on the edge. “It’s supposed to be the earth. The blue and green is the planet, and the red represents … well, I guess you could take it literally as blood covering the earth. But I think it does a good job of representing violence, pain, anger, evil. Its pretty open to interpretation.”

“Oh,” you said, nodding in understanding. “Huh, I never would have thought of that.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “He’s just reading the information packet we were handed at the entrance.”

“You mean the one I stuffed in my bag and haven’t looked at since we got here?” You said sheepishly, reaching for the now crumbled paper.

Hyunjin laughed.

Felix began to wander off towards the other side of the room, but Hyunjin stayed with you as you started to read through the packet, learning about the artists of each piece and the meaning behind them. Hyunjin wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin against your shoulder, slowly rocking the two of you side to side.

You giggled. “I can’t read if you keep moving me.”

“You don’t need that anyways. I’ll explain everything to you,” he assured you.

“I’m sure you’ll do a better job anyways,” You said, giving up and deciding you’ll finish the packet back at home. “I love the way you explain things. I love the way you see things.”

“I just appreciate all the little things, the beauty in life. It makes all the big things that much more meaningful.”

“Like what?”

He pressed his mask up against your cheek in leu of a kiss, and you leaned back into his embrace. “Like you.”

“You’re such a romantic.”

“Hmm.”

The two of you stood there for another minute, softly rocking back and forth. You closed your eyes and let his warmth wash over you, the feel of his skin on yours, his chest expanding and retracting as he breathed, his soft humming in your ear.

You smiled. “You mean the world to me.”

He just held you tighter in response.

-0-0-

You had once again managed to wander ahead of the boys. You decided to wait for them in a quitter section, sitting down on a bench and scrolling through your phone as you waited. A family walked through, their chatter filling the small room, but they eventually moved on, and you took a second to observe the painting in front of you.

It was pretty, not as colorful as some of the other pieces you had seen today, but you imagined it had some deeper meaning you didn’t quite get.

A guy a little bit older than you sits down on the bench next to you, and you quickly move you bag closer to your body, scooting to the side with a small nod. The two of you sit in silence, looking at the painting, before he suddenly speaks up.

“It’s amazingly intricate, isn’t it,” he says, voice deep.

“Oh, I guess,” You murmur.

He tilts his head, still staring at the painting. “I’m in awe of the technique. Don’t think I could replicate something that beautiful even if I tried.”

You hummed in agreement.

There was a moment of silence, and then he spoke up again, this time turning to look at you fully. “What do you think about it?”

“Oh, I’m not much of an art person,” You explained. “I’m actually just waiting for someone.”

The man narrows his eyes, nods his head for a few seconds, and then shoots you a blinding smile. “Are you a foreigner?”

You hesitate. “Yes?”

“Your Korean is very good.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“You know, foreigners usually learn a lot from sleeping with Korean men.”

He said the words so nonchalantly, so bluntly, that it took you of guard for a second. You couldn’t even find yourself getting angry or scandalized, because you were just so in shock that someone would even say something like that out loud. It was only then that you acknowledged how uncomfortable he was making you.

You grimaced, standing up. “Right. I think I’m just going to-“

“Yah, leaving so soon?” He says, grabbing your arm as you try to pass by.

The room was empty. There was nobody around, and there was a strange man grabbing you, and it took everything you had not scream. Maybe you should scream. Should you scream? Should you hit him? You began to panic, not sure what to do.

His grip tightened. “Hey, there’s no need to be afraid. I just want to talk.”

“Let go of me.”

You tried to sound authoritative, but you voice wavered. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and it felt like someone was squeezing it. You try to pull your arm away, but the sudden recoil of the action only has you falling towards the man. The second his other hand touches your hip, you jolt past your hesitation and slam straight into outrage.

“Let go of me!” You yell, pushing against his chest with all your might.

The action forces him to let go, and you stumble back. You’re tempted to run, and for a split second you almost do, but then the loud laugh of a kid gains the attention of the man.

Two kids run into the room, followed by a very anxious mother trying to get them to quiet down. The woman and kids seem to be part of a group, and the small room slowly starts to fill with people. You turn around to look for the man, but he’s already gone.

The kids laugh loudly again.

You rush towards the bathroom as you feel your eyes starting to sting with tears, anger making your body feel hot and fuzzy. It wasn’t until you were in the empty room that you realized your bag was vibrating. You pull out your phone, eyes widening at the 4 missed calls and dozen texts Chan had sent you. Before you can read any of them, he’s calling again.

“Are you okay?” Is the first thing he says the moment you answer.

“I’m okay,” You say instinctively, but then you pause. “I … actually, I don’t know if I am okay.”

“What happened. Where are you?”

“I’m still at the museum, I’m fine … physically. It’s- there was a guy, he said something gross, and he grabbed me. He’s gone now, but it just kind of freaked me out.”

You looked down to your arm, which felt strangely cold from the man’s touch. You felt slimy just thinking about his hands on you.

“Where are the boys?” Chan questioned, and you put him on speaker so you could wash your hands.

“I don’t know. I was waiting for them, and this creep just walked up to me.” You took a deep breath. “I think I’m okay. I just need a minute.”

“Take as long as you need sweetheart.”

You scrubbed your arm with soap in hopes of elevating the disgust, but the harder you scrubbed the more your skin began to sting, so you gave up. You dried off and took a second to just stare at the mirror. The anger was still there, so was the fear, but mostly you just felt tired. You shook your head, picking your phone back up.

“I think I’m good. I’m really sorry I freaked you out,” you told Chan.

“Don’t ever apologize for something that isn’t your fault.” He let out a sigh. “Are you sure the guy is gone?”

You peeked your head out of the bathroom. “Yeah, I don’t see him. I think he got spooked by the other people who showed up.”

Chan swore on the other end, in both Korean and English. “Do you think you can find Hyunjin or Felix?”

“Yeah, I’ll look for them. I’m sorry you had to feel that. I’m sure you’re busy.” You wandered back to the room you had just been in, but there was no sign of the boys. “I can call you back later.”

“I mean absolutely no offense to you sweetheart, but you must be out of your goddamn mind if you think I’m hanging up right now.”

You let out a small laugh. “Fair enough.”

It was comforting, knowing Chan was on the phone as you made your way around the museum. Even though you were sure you weren’t in any real danger, and the rooms you walked through were full of people, you knew deep down that you wouldn’t have felt as safe as you did now if Chan wasn’t there, even if it was just him breathing on the other end.

You finally spotted Hyunjin first, letting out a sigh of relief. “I found them.”

Hyunjin looked up with a smile as you ran up to him, but his smile quickly dropped when he saw your face. “Are you okay?”

“Let me talk to him,” Chan said, and you quickly handed over the phone.

Felix wandered over when he spotted the two of you. He noticed the tense atmosphere between the two of you, and he placed a hand on your arm in worry as Hyunjin’s face began to pull down in worry and anger.

“What’s going on?”

You licked your lips and took a deep breath. “Some guy grabbed me, I freaked out. Chan felt it.”

“Wait, some guy grabbed you?” Felix dropped his hand and looked you over in worry. He gently lifted your arm in shock, and you realized that there was a small red mark from where you had been grabbed. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

“It’s fine, I’m just pissed he got away.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Hyunjin said, and he quickly said something in Korean so fast you couldn’t even begin to understand. “Hyung, I’m calling the cops.”

“The hell you are,” you exclaimed, grabbing the phone out of his hand. “Are you insane?”

“This guy hurt you,” Hyunjin argued.

“That guy is a creep, I won’t argue with you on that, but he didn’t hurt me. He grabbed my arm a little tight, but I’ve been hurt worse by walking into a table.”

“He put his hands on you.” Felix said.

“And what do you plan on doing? Looking for him? Yelling at him? You don’t even know if he’s still here!”

“I’ll have the museum security find out who he is. I’ll track him down myself if I have to,” Hyunjin said.

“Right sure, I can see the headlines now. Stray Kids Hyunjin arrested for attacking a man who was a creep to his soulmate.” You smacked his shoulder. “What happened to keeping a low profile?”

Felix grabbed your hand. “Baby, this guy should have never touched you. What he did was not okay-“

“I know. Believe me, I know.” You interrupted. “But he’s gone now. And I’m not going to let you guys expose yourselves just to … defend my honor. He didn’t do anything that would warrant more than a slap on the wrist. It’s not worth it.”

You could tell neither one was satisfied, but something on your face must have convinced them, because they quickly conceded. You only then remembered you were still on a call with Chan, and you quickly brought the phone back up to your face and asked if he was still there.

“I’m still here,” Chan said softly.

“You get all that?”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

“I’m hanging up on you now.”

“Please, be safe.”

You smiled. “I will.”

The words ‘I love you’ burned on the tip of your tongue, begging to be released, but you swallowed them down.

It didn’t feel right.

Not yet.

-0-0-

Even though you tried to encourage the boys to finish the exhibit, they unanimously agreed to cut the date short, and you were secretly relieved. You held Hyunjin’s hand tight as you walked past the security guards, knowing he would be tempted despite your agreement, and managed to make your way out into the warm afternoon sun without any issues.

You were relieved that the boys hadn’t been recognized yet.

“You want to go home?” Felix asked, and you thought about it for a second.

Now that you were out of the museum and breathing in fresh air, the idea of cutting the date short and ending it on such a bitter ending felt wrong. You shook your head.

“What do you want to do?” He asked.

You pursed your lips. “Are there any parks nearby?”

“Hmm, there’s one two blocks away,” Hyunjin said, already looking up the directions on his phone. Then he tilted his head. “If you’re willing to walk a little further, we’re not that far from the Han river.”

“Oh! I’ve always wanted to go to the Han river!”

“Then lets go,” Felix said, eyes crinkling.

You walked in between the two, holding hands with both of them and swinging them back and forth. You felt carefree, a nice change from the exhaustion you had felt earlier, and the wind blowing through your hair swept away all your worries. Even so, you could tell neither boy was completely over what had happened.

You pulled your hands together, forcing them to hold each other’s hands as you moved behind them, giving them a big smile. “You two look good together.”

Hyunjin snorted, wrapping his arm around Felix. “Maybe I’ll steal him all for myself.”

Not one to be outdone, Felix grabbed Hyunjin by the back of the neck. “Who says I won’t come willingly?”

Hyunjin jolted back at that, and the two of them started laughing. You raised an eyebrow, noticing the way their eyes darted to each other and then back to you. You patted Felix on the shoulder as you moved past them, skipping to the corner of the street.

“Come on lover boys. You two can flirt with each other later.”

The three of you continued your walk with less tension than before, the events of the museum only a blip of an otherwise nice day.

Well, relatively nice.

It was hot out, as summer was starting to get closer. The sun was shining bright, and by the time you guys found a nice spot near the river and under the shade, you were sweating. While it wasn’t unbearingly hot, Hyunjin’s offer to get ice cream was a blessing.

He told you he would back quickly, smooching your cheek messily as he left.

Felix decided to wait with you as the other dancer left, leaning back on his elbows and closing his eyes to enjoy the cool breeze. There were kids playing and laughing, couples walking at the riverside, and even dogs running in the grass. It was peaceful.

“I hate it, you know,” Felix said.

You tilted your head in confusion. “What?”

“Having to hide this.” He opened his eyes to look at you. “Not being able to be with you so publicly.”

You eyed his mask still on his face, pulled down only slightly below his nose. Any normal person would have taken it off by now, but even though Hyunjin had led you two towards a fairly secluded area, it was still too risky for his face to be seen in public.

Or rather, it was too risky for him to be seen in public with you.

You looked down. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Felix was quick to reassure you. “It’s what I signed up for when I decided to become an Idol.”

“You still deserve your privacy,” You muttered.

“Would you have done something if we weren’t idols?”

You didn’t have to ask him what he was talking about.

It was silent for a second, wind blowing through the trees above you. Leaves and flowers began to fall around the two of you, littering the grass between you. You grabbed a flower, twirling it around your fingers as you contemplated Felix’s words.

“Maybe.” At the way his face fell, you shifted closer. “Hey, I’m not saying that your idol status was the only reason I didn’t want to get the authorities involved. Like I said before, I doubt they would have been able to do anything more than chastise the guy anyways.”

Felix sighed. “It still doesn’t seem right.”

“It isn’t. But I’m okay, really.”

You reached over to hold his hand, and he gave it a tight squeeze. When he turned his head to look at you, you were already looking at him, the wind blowing hair around and blocking your view for a second. Felix’s eyes shifted to the side, and you turned to see what he was looking at, but you didn’t see anything. You turned back in time to see him pulling his mask down.

His lips were on yours for only a split second, but it was enough to make your face heat up. Felix pressed his forehead to yours, whispering against your lips.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You smiled, letting your lips press together again. “With you? Always.”

He didn’t say anything else after that. Hyunjin didn’t mention your close proximity when he returned, simply handing over your ice cream with soft eyes.

“Careful, it’s starting to melt,” he warned you, but it was too late. A glob of ice cream had slid off the cone and hit your fingers.

He gratefully handed you a napkin afterwards, and you laughed when his own ice cream began to melt onto his hand as well. Felix accepted his own ice cream more carefully, managing to keep his hands clean.

Without thinking too much about it, you licked the ice cream that had fallen onto your fingers before wiping the area with the napkin. You then licked around the cone edge to catch the melting ice cream drops and avoid more of a mess, finishing off with a proper taste of your actual ice cream cone. You looked up to catch both boys watching you with familiar looks.

You snapped your fingers at them, instinctively speaking in english. “Hey, mind out of the gutter. I don’t put out on the first date.”

Felix laughed at your statement, replying in korean. “Damn, there go my plans for the night.”

“Wait, what did you she say?”

The two of you laughed at the confused look on Hyunjin’s face.

Yeah. You were okay.

-0-0-

“Walking me to my door, like proper gentleman,” You teased.

Hyunjin grinned, slipping the ball cap he had used out on the streets and running his hands through his hair. “Maybe we’re just hoping for the end of the date kiss.”

“So I’ve been told,” You said, giving Felix a side eye. “You seem awfully sure of yourself.”

You turned to open your door, planning on teasing them a little bit more, but Hyunjin pressed himself up against you, leaning on his arms resting above you. You turned back to face him properly, flicking his nose.

“Did you need something?”

He puckered his lips in response, and you laughed. You conceded, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down for a kiss. His own hands dropped down to your waist, his touch warm and comforting as he kissed you softly and slowly. When he pulled away, you were surprised to see him looking almost sad, and you watched his eyes flicker down to your arm where the man had grabbed you.

While it wasn’t noticeable to anyone who didn’t know better, the skin was red and irritated. There was a chance it might bruise slightly.

You tucked your finger under Hyunjin’s chin and lifted his face so you could look into his eyes. “Hey, forget about it. Forget about him.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he said.

“It wasn’t your fault,” You assured him. “Don’t let the actions of one horrible man ruin our perfect date.”

“Perfect, huh?”

“Ahh, don’t let it go to your head,” You droned, pressing another kiss to his lips.

To both of your surprise, the moment Hyunjin pulled away Felix was there, pushing you back against the door and kissing you so hard it made you see stars. He practically devoured you, your breath stolen and lips tingling when he finally pulled away. His eyes were dilated, mouth red and slick with saliva that he licked away, cupping your cheeks in his hands.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” He asked you, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“What happened to taking it slow?”

“Screw slow.”

Later that night, as you were getting ready for bed, Hyunjin sent a message to the group chat. It was a picture of you and Felix kissing at your front door, and he sent another message after.

‘Nothing in that museum compares to seeing these two together. This is real art.’

[aritamargarita]

SOLITUDE || 001

hello and welcome to the debut of solitude. to all my current readers, you already know what’s up, but to new and curious readers, this installment is based off of climbing the food chain of wwe, taking place in mostly the modern era, so there are superstars spanning from 2013 the earliest to 2022..

just let me cook on the timeline a little bit okay, you'll like it LOL. there’s a lot of Twitter segments in this so i hope it’s not annoying, they’re going to die down for the most part later i promise

without further ado, please enjoy!

TODAY IS THE first day of your call up. The support you’ve gotten from your friends from the training center was wonderful, but you’re still feeling antsy and incredibly nervous. Hopefully, your first day on the brand goes well..

Shawn Michaels was the one to break the news that you were getting called up. You could remember it so clearly because you completely ambushed him with an excited hug once he dropped the bomb on you.

He had patted your back and told you to lighten your grip a little bit, but not without a grin on his face.

If it’s one thing you deserve, it is the chance to expand your career. You always came early, and you were always prepared to learn.

You weren’t sure how to feel when he told you that you’d be heading to the main roster.

You only started as a superstar on the indie circuit and are only used to being on much smaller channels and local shows. You couldn’t even imagine being on WWE, which was broadcast on national television!

He had seen the look on your face and quickly tried to do damage control.

“We’re soft-launching you, or however you kids say it these days,” He told you. You think he grumbled something about how social media was confusing, but you brushed him off. “As an interviewer, I mean.”

“Huh..” You give a shrug. “As long as I can wrestle sometime.”

He had assured you that you will, sooner than you think, but they just wanted to focus on your speaking. Once they (and you), were more confident, they’d allow you to be in much more opportunities.

Such is life, you guess. Get through these obstacles for a bigger reward. You gave your gratitude to Shawn as you had a lot to look forward to.

If you’re not mistaken, WWE had already posted a teaser on their twitter. For some reason, you would find yourself constantly checking the tweet.

@WWE ✓

We hear someone is entering the scene… 👀

1.2K reposts 120 quotes 14K likes

—is what it said. The flurry of tweets under it were mixed. Lots of people wanted to know what the deal was, though some were already speculating it was an old star coming back.

However, the few fans that knew of your work had their guesses. Some of the pictures you posted on Instagram were cryptic hints, but you knew how the internet was. Crazy detective work..

But anyhow, people around the training center know that you’re pretty introverted. You only came to get some work done and go home. It was hard for others to get to know you at first.

They like to call you shy, but you’ve started to hate that word the more it’s used. It holds you back too much. You won’t make it far if you’re stuck with that description for your entire life.

Fortunately, they know what you lack in words is made up for in the ring. There’s no question that you’re good, you just tend to get nervous when speaking to the public.

At heart, you knew they wanted to help you out, and they wanted you to become the best you can be! If you start practicing, you’re sure to be a star!

As motivating as it sounds, it’s still stressful. Going out of your comfort zone was nothing new. It’s a given if you want to wrestle properly, but it still makes you uneasy.

You know you’ve gotta put your best foot forward and do this despite it. This was your only chance, and you absolutely can’t mess this up.

Most of the people still training had given you their well wishes. It’s heavily appreciated; after all, you won’t see them anymore unless they’re called up there themselves.

You think you’ll miss Carmella the most. She was your training buddy, and you think she was the most excited about you getting called up. You hope that she’ll be next soon enough….

As of right now, you look tired. You damn sure feel tired.

It causes you to lie down on the floor of the locker room. It probably wasn’t the best idea, but fuck it. You’ve already made a bad decision by staying up all night out of excitement. It’s starting to come back to you.

Of course, you came to the arena a little too early. (which was an inside joke between coaches, you’re too punctual for your own good..)

You were sure most of your coworkers hadn’t arrived yet, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to see them. It’s not that you don’t want to, you’re just nervous to meet them.

Especially since you’ll probably be half asleep and may forget their names.

Much to your misfortune, a woman comes in, sunglasses on and suitcase handle clenched in hand.

She only lowers them with a finger once you’re in view. “Oooh,” She starts, then clicks her tongue. It’s apparent that she’s mocking you already. “..You look like trash.”

“Thanks,” You say with a sigh. “It’s so appreciated.”

This is not a good start. You make the move to get up off the comfortable ground and the woman puts a hand on her hip.

She’s not very amused, moving a free hand to flip her blue hair. “Did they get me a personal makeup artist? Or…are you just everyone’s stylist? Never seen you here before.”

“I’m new. An interviewer.” You say. Giving yourself that title feels much weirder than saying you were a wrestler. “Pray tell, who am I talking to?”

She’s a little taken aback by the cynical tone in your voice but takes her sunglasses off. This woman doesn’t think she’s met her match yet.

“Of course you don’t recognize a celebrity when you’re in front of one. Let me refresh your memory a bit. How does this sound? The boss, the blueprint, the standard!” She pauses for a bit for dramatic effect. “…Sasha Banks. And I better not have to repeat myself. Who exactly are you?”

“You have a pretty name.” You start off with. Honestly, you didn’t want to make an enemy out of her as much as she wanted to make one out of you. You hope she could see that. “I’m [Name], and you’re right. I am new. Maybe we can get to know each other a bit more.”

It actually seems to work because she falters for a second. “…What?”

You hold out your hand to her and she looks at it for a moment before shaking it with a scowl. Before you realize it, she’s already taking her hand back.

“I’m assuming you’re wrestling? Do you have a match?” You quickly ask, not giving her a second to recover. “I’d like to interview you after if you do.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Sasha drops her suitcase. She’s unsure if she could stand your bright personality for a second longer. You’re going to be a problem in the future. “Sorry, not sorry, but you’re a nobody. What’s the point?”

“It was worth a try. But if that’s what you want I won’t force you.” Sasha rolls her eyes at your response. You’re way too nice. “At least tell me, do you think it’s fun here?”

“Fun?” She repeats. “Tch, I know you didn’t just ask if it was fun. Get real. There’s nothing fun about being here. There’s only one thing that matters, and it’s the Divas Championship. Got it?”

“Got it.” You nod. Divas Championship…duly noted. You don’t think you’ll be going for it anytime soon. “Who’s got it?” You’ll have to ask if the standard Women’s Championship was still in circulation as well.

“AJ Lee.” She answers. It’s the least snarky answer she’s given you so far, but she reverts back to it. “I swear, I’m gonna drag her ass across the mat for that title. She makes me sick with her skipping around.”

You voice your thoughts. “She skips?” That’s one way to get to the ring. You’re curious now. “I wonder if I can interview her…she must have a lot to say about her reign so far.”

“What?” Sasha’s immediately offended. “Um, no. Who says you’re interviewing her first? You’re obviously going to interview me first.”

It’s contradictory to what she’s said before, but because of it, there’s a smile growing on your face. She notices and jabs her index finger toward you. “You can wipe that smile off your face, rookie.”

“So be it. I will see you afterwards.” You agree to interview her, doing your best to fight the smile off.

Sasha huffs and leaves the room for now. Your eyes follow her, and once she’s gone, you shrug to yourself. Wow.

Well, that’s one way to get an interviewee.

Almost seconds after her departure, your phone vibrates and you see it’s a notification from Twitter. After that, the tweets start to flow in.

What now?

@SashaBanksWWE ✓

I ALWAYS come first. Don’t forget that, rookie. @Officially[Name].

4.1K reposts 250 quotes 45K likes

@No1DivazStan: Wait…?

↳ @Sashabanksfan109: Literally like who is that??? What is she talking about?

Oh boy. Now people actually are getting the idea. She even went as far as tagging you. You’re already starting to have people follow you.

Including Sasha, which was a plus!

You’re confident about things for a moment until the thought of having to talk to her live circles back. Shit, you might start to freak out a little.

You hope Sasha wouldn’t be too harsh on you, even if it were wishful thinking. Sasha’s gonna come in hot, especially if she loses. You have no choice but to adjust.

A few more moments of silence pass, and suddenly the floor is calling you again.

You immediately lay back down. How long until the show? You take your phone out of your pocket and check the time. 6:45. The show starts at around 7. Maybe 8 if there are any delays.

Would it be wrong if you took a quick nap? It’ll only be 15 minutes, but it might just be enough to keep you going for the rest of the night.

You’re already closing your eyes. You know you’re going to be unable to hit any major stages of sleep, but even just laying like this is nice.

Until the door opens. You’re shooting up from your spot, almost falling over in the process.

“I WASN’T SLEEPING.” You clarify, doing your best to stand up. The woman, who’s not Sasha this time, looks at you in confusion.

She points a finger at you. “Ya’ sure about that? From the looks of it, it seemed like you were knocked out for a second.” Her accent is the first thing that catches your attention as she starts to motion towards you.

“No, no, not at all.” You try to defend. “Can’t a woman stretch on the floor in peace?”

“Seriously, you call that stretching?” Before she can make any more sarcastic comments toward you, she turns to look at you. “I’ve never seen you around before. Got a name?”

She is trying her best to identify you to no avail. You hop up to your feet, then hold your hand out to her. “[Name]. I’m just an interviewer right now, yeah. I’m new. Who are you?”

“Becky. Becky Lynch.” She introduces, taking your hand to shake it firmly. You swear you’ve seen her before, too. Probably on Twitter. Guess Becky isn't the only one with deja vu.

You pray you wouldn’t forget her or Sasha’s name for that matter. You can’t fight the urge to yawn.

“Someone’s tired. You should go get some water before you pass out. Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

This is a nice change of pace from Sasha. Despite you trying to kill her with kindness, she’s just all kinds of intimidating, while this woman is…okay.

Water may do the trick. It might just be cold enough to wake you up. “Good idea. Anywhere I can get some?”

“Should be a cooler down the hall to your right.” She informs. “See, I’d offer to get it for you, but I’ve got a match to get ready for.”

“Well, thanks anyway.” But before you leave, Before you leave, you turn over to her. “This may be an assumption, but are you going against Sasha Banks?” You ask. You could be wrong, but it’s worth a shot to see.

She nods at you. “Smart girl. How’d you know?”

“I talked to her a bit earlier. She wouldn’t exactly tell me she was going in a match, but I guess it was safe to assume it was you.” You say. “If you’d like to be interviewed, I’ll be waiting backstage.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Becky says. She’s more concerned about you getting your water. “Go, I might be here when you get back. Don’t pass out.”

You make a noise to let her know you heard her. Did you make a new friend? You think so.

You’re still a bit disoriented from the lack of sleep. You only made it a few steps down the hall before forgetting the direction she told you to go. Great.

This hallway seemed horribly long. The more you walked, the more you felt like it extended somehow. You need a nap, but you don’t think you’re going to get it until retiring back to your hotel room.

A group of men dressed in what seems to be tactical clothes are sitting around nearby, and you find yourself approaching them in a sudden spur of confidence. It’s probably because you’re tired.

“Excuse me,” you call. All three of them look at you with curious looks, and you feel like you could just up and die right there.

Doesn’t exactly help that they’re all kind of attractive, either.

“Where can I get some water? It feels like I’m dying here.” You ask, using your hand to rub the side of your face.

To them, you looked like you had just completed a damn marathon run. One of them with short brown hair whispers something to another with half-blonde, half-black hair, and you look between them curiously.

You don’t have time for whispers. You want water. It makes you think about purposely passing out in front of them. Rude and manipulative, sure, but you’re not here to gossip!

The other one speaks up to you instead. He’s also got long hair, but you think the most noticeable thing was his sleeve tattoo. You may have been staring too long because he snapped his fingers to get your attention.

At least he wasn’t glaring at you. There was a handsome smile on his face. “You there? Don’t tell me we’ve lost you already. You just got here.”

“Sorry. I’m really tired.” You admit. “Really, REALLY tired. Water would be nice.”

“To your left,” He says. “Should be one over there.”

The exasperation in your voice is ever present when you say: “Thank you!”. You’re dying here. You’ll have to come back and thank your only savior after replenishing yourself. Turning away, you head in the direction he told you.

You don’t hear the snickering behind you as you leave. Too busy thinking about hydration at this point.

Going further down, you see that there still is no water cooler. You’re only met with a dead end, and though there are doors, the signs only tell you that they’re just control rooms.

You’re confused. Why would he send you that way? You turn around and head back the way you came as it must’ve been an honest mistake.

You see them still sitting there with smiles. “Hey, excuse me,” you call, waving your hand. “There’s no water over there. Are you sure it’s that way?”

“We know.” The man who gave you instruction earlier had said. “We just wanted to mess with you a bit. Go that way.” First day on the job and people are already trying to rib you? Goddamn it.

On the bright side, it seemed to be lighthearted. Or so you hope.

This time, you hope, he points the correct way. The only thing you can do is let out a sigh and move forward. You don’t even stay to listen to anything else he says.

"Don't take it to heart!" One of them yells behind you.

You scoff to yourself. This time, they redeemed themselves because you found that lovely water cooler. You immediately pick up the pace and reach out to snatch a cup.

Finally, cold water. You're sure you'll wake up this time. You're almost half tempted to pour some on your face, but you aren't THAT unhinged. Besides, you don’t want to waste it.

The moment you lift your cup and and take a refreshing sip, someone saying “hey” makes you look over, and you nearly spit your drink out.

The guy that had given you the wrong direction had come around. You cough up bits of water, holding a hand on your chest. “Why?! God, you scared the hell out of me!”

“Sorry.” He apologizes. You’re not so sure if it’s sincere. “Stephanie McMahon told me about you. You’re [Name], right?”

It takes you a second to reply and he looks at you expectantly. You hold your hand up. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, that’s me.” You nod.

“Roman,” He introduced himself back, setting his hands on the vest of his tactical gear. “I know it’s your first day and all, but do you know who’s in charge?”

“….Vince McMahon?” You offer with a shrug.

Roman chuckles, shaking his head. “You were close. But that’s not it. The Authority is the one in charge.” He clarifies to you. “And you’d best be on their side. Tell me, new girl. Do you plan to be on the side of justice?”

Truth be told, you’re a little intimidated. Again.

You wonder if you even had a choice right now. Before you answer him you decide to take a sip of water, this time, without coughing up a lung.

“Justice, what do you mean by that?”

“The Authority is seeking to make sure that everyone keeps in line.” He explains. “We’ve already got a hold on the men’s division, but the women’s division….”

He trails off, looking toward you expectantly.

“I’m just an interviewer.” You hold your hands up in defense. “I don’t know anything about wrestling. Like anything.”

A lie, but you don’t exactly want to get involved.

You thought it felt weird to call yourself an interviewer, but now you’re going to hold onto that title until it’s convenient enough for you….

“Don’t give me that crap. I know exactly what you are.” So much for that. Roman gets closer to you and you move back just a little. It doesn’t do much, because he’s still in your space.

You’re starting to feel cornered.

“And what I don’t appreciate is people lying to me. Listen, [Name]. Pretty girls like you are always smart. If you knew what’s good for you, you’d better—“

“Hey guys!” A new voice makes you look over Roman. “Roman…and….who’s this?” He points a finger over to you.

“[Name].” You say. This guy might be your potential savior.

He doesn’t really pester any further than that, oddly enough. “Cool. You guys wanna take a selfie?” Before you two could even answer, he’s already approaching with a phone in hand.

“Wait,” You try to stop him. “I’m not ready—“

All Roman does was glare at the camera while you were holding out your hand toward it. He’s already took it and you were caught in the worst off guard moment.

“You guys better get ready for Raw. It starts in like five minutes.” The man recommends. “Thanks for the selfie.”

He saunters off and Roman shakes his head. After the stranger had made some distance, he finally speaks to you. “I can’t stand Theory’s dumbass.”

“Theory?” You repeat. “Who?”

“Austin Theory.” He clarifies. “Won’t stop taking those stupid selfies. It’s all the goddamn time.”

You slowly nod, but take advantage of the fact Austin had said there’s only five minutes until Raw starts. “Gosh. This was such a nice meeting, but I had better get going. You know, interviews and stuff to do.”

Roman says nothing, so you take the opportunity to side-step and walk past him. However, he doesn’t let you get far before saying…

“Better think about what I said. You don’t have much time.”

You’re hoping that wasn’t a threat. And now that you think about it?

He didn’t even apologize for leading you the wrong way!

You were just trying to get ready to be on television. You did everything you could to stand out for your debut, despite some people knowing that you’d show up sometime.

You can only imagine the pre-show talks around on social media. God, you hope you weren’t sweating. You think you’re just overreacting, but you feel like you’re gonna cry.

If you weren’t awake before, you sure are now.

Your phone starts buzzing again on the vanity you were seated at. The stylist who was helping you get things together had stepped away earlier, leaving you be with your thoughts.

Until now. The moment you pick up your phone and open Twitter, you groan.

Roman was right about the selfies being stupid.

Austin had posted it on Twitter. The only thing you’re really focused on is yourself. You look a disheveled mess and you’re happy you could fix yourself up a little bit right now.

You’re reeling as you read some of the responses. Although, some were funnier than others…

@Theory_1 ✓

Roman and some new girl are here today! I caught them in their natural habitat.

1.8K reposts 130 quotes 37K likes

@annsweet_: OMG FREE HER???? WHY DOES SHE LOOK SCARED LMAO

↳ @Lilgrab$78: Nah fr they holding her hostage in there

@Biilionnsmind: Are you serious? [Name] Theory AND Roman? This has gotta be the multiverse

↳ @YourChampion0: Not gonna lie they might be an item. Guess we’ll see if they have something going on or they just were filming something.

@bellstrings: Wait not too much on [Name]…face card is still ACTIVE and ready to TAP!

Along those lines of being mentioned, Austin had followed you as well. But seeing yourself being the talk of others is just surreal. You’re happy about it.

“Hey, [Name].” A stagehand calls. “You’re on in about 2 minutes. You’ll be interviewing Sasha Banks. It’s the only person you’ll be doing, so you’re free to go home after.”

Alright then. You hop up out of your seat. You looked good enough, so you didn’t exactly need that stylist to come back. Your time to shine.

You let the stagehand lead the way to where you’re supposed to be positioned. It’s a nice set up, you think. There’s a red curtain behind you as well as a television settled with “Raw” displayed on it.

“Sasha lost because of interference.” The stagehand informs you. “She’ll go on about the details. But just ask her some questions. She should be here any second now.”

You’ll try. The camera is already settled in front of you, waiting for the go ahead. As soon as he said that, Sasha comes storming into the room. He signals toward the both of you that he’s rolling.

“Wow, Sasha..!” You exclaim, shaking your head. “That was definitely……a match.”

Sasha looks at you with a scowl. “You think?! Becky only got lucky because AJ came out all peppy. I almost had her.” She complains. “I had Becky in the Bank Statement. She was about to tap…”

She literally has to stop talking and take a breath before she loses it. Everyone, even the crowd, can tell that she’s STEAMING.

“…Uh, do you think you’ll need help in the future for AJ? It looks like she’s posing a really big threat to you.” You say. “Cause’ if you’re asking me, it looks like you may need a future tag partner.”

You’re going steady, despite the fact your hand may or may not be shaking a bit. You’re just glad that this segment wasn’t out in the ring. You tilt the mic over to Sasha.

All you had to do was pretend like the camera wasn’t there and that you were having a simple conversation. Everything’s just fine.

You had hoped she would understand that you were insinuating that you could be of assistance, but she takes it the wrong way.

“What, you think I’m not good enough?” She challenges, stepping closer to you. “You think I can’t beat AJ on my own? She’s the one that needs help. That’s why she gets Tamina to do her dirty work. Let me remind you that I’m Sasha Banks. I was the NXT Women’s Champion. The Boss can handle herself in battle and she damn sure doesn’t need someone that’s gonna hold her back.”

“I get it, jeez. I was trying to help you, Sasha.” You explain. It might be a chance to get you active in the ring.

“Aren’t you supposed to be doing your job and asking me questions? I don’t need your help.” She fires back.

Whatever. You just shrug it off. “Fine. You want questions, I’ll give you questions. You tagged me on Twitter. When you tagged me on Twitter, was that you trying to put me on notice?”

It’s easy for her to bounce off of what you said.

“You clearly act like you have no idea who I am. Maybe now you’ll get a clue. As a matter of fact, you better leave that fake little sweet innocent act at the door, cause I see right through you.”

“What act? I’m just being me.” It’s true. You really are!

“Right, and Becky must be the best wrestler on the planet…hah! That’s hilarious even thinking about it.” Sasha falls into a laugh, and you fight the urge to smile at her contagious laugh. Instead, you wipe it off in order to look confused.

She takes a breath. “You know what? You wanna help me, prove it to me. You and me, a match next Monday. I know that you’re not gonna do well, but I’ll have fun destroying you anyways, rookie.”

This was your chance!! You can’t fight the excitement, so you immediately agree. “Yes! I mean, yeah. Absolutely. It’s a match, Sasha. Shake on it?”

You offer your free hand to her. Despite her gritting her teeth, she takes it.

Sasha thinks you’re too excited, but she’d be lying if she wasn’t curious to see how you’d fare against her.

Your first match is against Sasha Banks. Thinking about it seemed so surreal. You’ve got a lot to prepare for next Monday.

Sasha’s eyes seem to catch onto something behind you and she groans, snatching her hand back. “Not her—“

“I wasn’t expecting you here, Sasha!” There’s a woman who’s slightly shorter than you that comes over with a championship tucked over her arm. This must’ve been the Divas championship, if the words on the butterfly weren’t evident enough.

“You know, not after you lost. Thought you would’ve went home by now!” She holds onto it even tighter once Sasha gave her a nasty look.

“You must be AJ Lee?” You try to divert some of the tension. “It’s nice to see the divas champion face to face.”

Sasha gags, but AJ giggles at your words. She rubs a hand over the butterfly, looking at you. “Oh pssssh, this? It’s nothing major…it just means I’m the best, but seriously, nothing major. Oh, and Sasha? Sorry Tamina made you lose focus…no hard feelings?”

Sasha rears her fist back and you immediately try to jump in the middle of them. Might’ve been a dumb decision, but it made Sasha immediately freeze once you did. You’re not even sure if AJ flinched.

You’re planted firmly in between them without any plans of moving anytime soon. “Woah, woah woah, can we hold off on the fighting PLEASE?! Why don’t you guys settle it in the ring, just like me and Sasha are?”

“You guys…” AJ looks between you two. “…are wrestling each other? Huh.”

You nod at her. “Yeah. I think you should follow suit. It’s obvious you two have problems.”

“Well, you’re right. It’s not like can’t beat you again, Sasha!” AJ chimes. “Anyway, I’m going to go polish my title! Don’t wait up for me, ladies!”

And just like that, AJ skips off. Sasha slowly turns to look at you and the only thing you can do is look back at her.

“I don’t care,” She starts, pointing a finger at you. “You’re helping in whatever happens, rookie.”

“What?! Why me??” You whine. “This isn’t my issue, the only thing I’m worried about is our match.“

As she’s said earlier, she doesn’t care. “You heard me. All you’ve gotta do is be ready. When I tell you to do something, you go.”

She leaves you with that. An exasperated sigh falls from your lips.

You’ve got more than just your match to worry about now..

#RAWTonight

@WWE ✓

A nearly explosive confrontation tonight on Raw between AJ Lee, [Name], and Sasha Banks. Watch below! 👇🔥

6.7K reposts 310 quotes 67k likes

@xXHibiscus: THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTING!???!!!

↳ @WomenofWWE: Yess! This is what we need, a strong three-way feud! The newbie, the underdog, and the champion. The storylines kind of have been getting boring. I wouldn’t mind Sasha & [Name] vs AJ, or maybe even AJ & [Name] vs Sasha.

↳ @RaeFed: [name] might’ve just saved us hold on

@RoseGambler: [Name] trying to be a peacemaker 😭

↳ @101Mariposa: SASHA WAS LITERALLY ABOUT TO ROCK AJ PLEASE. SHE NEEDS TO MOVE

↳ @ThenNowForever: Why she hit the “Sasha, this isn’t you”??

@MarkPodcast: Never heard of [Name]..…is she new?

↳ @platinumstarred: yeah she was mainly on the indies, wasn’t bad at all like she was rlly good

↳ @MarkPodcast: Hopefully she’ll stay good while she’s here!

@Feistysummer: Sasha saying she doesn’t need help…then turns around and tells [Name] that she’s going to help LOL

↳ @Divas4L: They’re definitely going to be friends, if not best friends in the future..

[thesturniolos]

warning signs

chris sturniolo | angst 😛

| triggers: alcohol, swearing

| long distance makes couples crumble much opposed to the closeness it apparently brings.

| tags: @strniohoeee @sturniolopepsi @estelleswrld @recklesssturniolo @realmoonee @thesturniolos @malsturns @mattslolita @mattsgirlforeva @malusokay @cabincorematt @caitifilms @celestialhacker @chrisolivia4l @sturnsclutter @sturnphilia @sturniolostuff @sturniololoverr @plasticferal @pr1ncessm1ng1 @ilovemattsturn @aesthetxcimagines @dailysturniolo @deatthmatch @justangelheree

“does it ever occur to you that-“

“don’t say it.” i pull my hand up to shade his face from my vision. although he’s my best friend, i can’t begin to talk about it. i swig the bottle and shake my head as i feel the burn fall down my throat.

he runs a hand through his hair and throws his body back onto my bed.

i look down at him to see a weak smile. it’s a smile of sympathy. sympathy that i don’t want or need to have.

“we’re fine.” i say but underneath my sharp tone there’s a slight wobble of concern. because it’s not how it was.

i look down at my phone and it flashes with a notification but i’m distracted by the wallpaper behind it.

it’s a picture of me and chris by the beach. he’s picking me up from the sand and swinging me round while we both laugh. it was the best day of my life. it was the day he asked me to be his, the day he promised me we’d be together forever.

well i believed that. after all, we’d been together for most of our life anyways - thanks to our mums being best friends since they were little, we were kinda destined to be inseparable too.

that was until he went to LA after his youtube career skyrocketed. i had never been happier for him and his brothers, knowing they were doing exactly what they’d dreamed of since we were children.

but what comes with a demanding industry like there’s is crazy fans and all around the clock non-stop entertainment.

our time together lessened and lessened as he signed up for interviews and tours and met more and more fans.

it didn’t bother me because i saw how happy he was to have been given that opportunity and seeing his smile was worth it all.

but it’s when i couldn’t see that grin anymore is when i found myself slipping into a place of darkness, like the curtains had been drawn on me.

i didn’t feel like a girlfriend anymore, i felt like a shadow. like a burden even.

even before they left for the big LA, he seemed to have become irritated by my presence, he started to go to bed early and i only saw him for about fifteen minutes when i got up and ten minutes when i got home before he found something else to do.

matt and nick saw this happening and tried to include me into their videos and podcasts but chris made it clear that i wasn’t allowed claiming the fans wouldn’t like it.

but what if i didn’t like it? did that even matter?

so now i find myself nearly 3000 miles away looking down at the bright light in my hand, wishing he was next to me and that it was like old times.

except he hadn’t texted me in a week and he’s been gone six months. that’s nearly 200 days without seeing him.

to think last year i couldn’t have gone 24 hours without a hug from him to now holding a teddy in my arms wishing it were chris.

i felt embarrassed to sit here and still think naively think we were still even a thing. because what’s a relationship without words?

i understand long distance is hard but nobody said it would do this to us, we were supposed to be forever.

i often think about the day at the beach, i wish it never happened. then i wouldn’t feel broken now.

“i really think you ought to call him.” says nate.

nate had been the triplets’ best friend too. he just like me was dropped but he still remained close with the likes of matt and nick.

“but it’s always me calling and it’s always me texting. how long do i have to fucking wait until he does that for me, nate? because quite frankly i’m fed up with being the only one who cares around here.”

there was silence for a bit and i could feel him staring at me.

a tear falls down my cheek and i let it fall onto my leg.

“i miss him so much, nate. why doesn’t he want me anymore?”

“i don’t know.” he hugs me in close and rubs my arm.

the truth is, this is the first hug i’ve had for six months.

“y/n?” the door opens and i’m face to face with the one person i need most.

“chris?”

[frozenjokes]

cubfan is mad that ptsd doesn’t just go away even when ethoslab went through the same thing and HE’S fine so why can’t I just get over it and play catch with these losers????

cub = atlas / etho = ghost

Ghost was here today, their quiet voice across the water enough to draw Atlas to the surface, watching, but they seemed to be preoccupied with the human Scars and Mumbo.

At Ghost’s arrival, Mumbo had leapt at the opportunity for clear communication regarding Scars’s uneven gift giving, but given the amount of time that had passed and the increasingly distressed and/or baffled noises coming from all parties, Atlas had to assume this wasn’t going so well. Was Scars defensive over its gifts? The way it was reacting to Ghost, Atlas wouldn’t be surprised. But Mumbo seemed frustrated with Ghost, not Scars, while Ghost’s exasperation was turned toward the human, so honestly, Atlas couldn’t say they had any clue what was happening with any of them.

‘That is not what I said!’ Mumbo seethed, fins ruffled, but Ghost didn’t seem too affected.

‘The gift wasn’t right. Is that not what you meant?’

‘I don’t want Scars to stop giving them! Just make it even!’

Ghost squinted, and Atlas might’ve thought they were in pain if they were a mermaid. What did that mean on a human face? Were they struggling with the language after so long living on the surface?

Ghost translated something in the human language to Scars who didn’t look any less confused, who went on to continue the cycle of the human babbling at Mumbo. This cycle proceeded with Mumbo asking for a translation, looking affronted by the answer, then telling Ghost off. Atlas wished they’d all stop; they themself were looking to spend time with Ghost without all the riff raff. What Atlas wanted exactly, they weren’t sure, but it didn’t end up mattering because Ghost didn’t seem to share Atlas’s desire for their company at all.

At first Atlas thought Ghost just hadn’t spotted them from their place tucked away near a small rocky outcrop; the humans hadn’t yet, though they were preoccupied. But after coming to some kind of conclusion with Mumbo and Scars, when Atlas called out a soft whistle from their place in the water, Ghost only waved, returning to whatever they were doing with their bag on the beach. This, however, certainly got the humans’ attention, the Scars human trotting over to the water, calling out, waving, and generally making a fool of itself. Graciously, Red was no more interested in Atlas as it had been in previous days, moving its own supplies up to fish off the rocks.

And then Ghost stripped their clothes, save for a towel around their midsection, and sat in the shallow water. If the humans’ reactions were anything to go off of, this was odd behavior, but Mumbo didn’t seem alarmed, and the Scars human calmed down after a brief stint of communication. Ghost said something to Mumbo as well, but it was too quiet to hear.

Atlas approached, curious and maybe a little restless, but Scars never moved from Ghost’s side, and in fact, only stepped between them as Atlas approached, to Atlas’s great disdain. Mumbo gestured vaguely, a ‘let’s go’ kind of tail flick, but Atlas didn’t want to go, this human was arrogant and irritating, as if its presence could keep Atlas from greeting their new acquaintance. Ghost said something in the human language to Scars, and their distress made Atlas bristle.

‘They’re changing, or at least they will be soon.’ Mumbo whistled with some urgency, pulling Atlas’s attention away from the staring contest they had initiated, ‘Ghost gets sick. Vulnerable. No need for an audience.’

‘Changing?’

‘To a mermaid, Atlas. They get sick. Leave them.’

Atlas’s brain seemed to skip the first bit, indignation firing up instead on how contradictory this treatment of sickness was. ‘If they’re sick, we should sing. They should not be left alone.’ -with a human was left unsaid, but Atlas hardly needed to speak the thought out loud, Mumbo could tell from the distrustful glance back and frequent clicks.

‘Leave.’ Atlas had almost forgotten Ghost was there, the blunt instruction coming through.. strained. ‘Neither of you speak for me. I am fine as I am.’

Atlas hesitated, struggling to parse the emotion, but Ghost only seemed to bristle at Atlas’s continued presence, so finally Atlas gave in to Mumbo’s insistent gestures.

It felt wrong to leave Ghost alone like this, especially with humans, especially if they were going to be in a state of vulnerability. How could Ghost send Mumbo and Atlas away, but not Scars? Scars could not protect or heal them. Atlas could begrudgingly accept the human might not take advantage of the situation, but how could Ghost really feel safe?

Atlas didn’t want to push though, not with Ghost, especially not today when they seemed so.. off.

Changing. Changing into a mermaid. Atlas believed what Ghost had told them of their past, it was not so hard to swallow with Ghost’s knowledge of mer culture and language, but to switch back and forth between forms.. that seemed beyond the realm of possibility. How did that work?

Maybe Mumbo read Atlas’s mind, or maybe not.

‘Give them space today. They’re upset with that human that’s cursed them I think. The two of them never got along as far as I know, but things haven’t been civil lately.’

‘The curse is what changes their species?’ Atlas asked, and Mumbo’s fins flicked in confirmation. A human curse, in both senses of the phrase. It made Atlas’s scales itch under the skin. They were still following Mumbo, but they wanted to turn back, go to Ghost, protect them from the monsters on the beach, monsters, why couldn’t anyone else see it? Mumbo said nothing more, and Atlas thought they might suffocate in the silence they usually longed for.

‘That human. The Scars. Someone needs to chase it off, make sure Ghost’s peace is preserved.’ Atlas was glad they had no fins, or Mumbo might see them shaking. Maybe Mumbo didn’t have to.

The other mermaid turned, just slightly, not enough to look but enough to click, their fins taking on the occasional twitch. ‘They’re friends, Atlas. I am an acquaintance. You are a stranger. Let it go.’

Atlas wanted to. They wanted so badly to let it go, to believe Mumbo, believe Ghost, but when Atlas closed their eyes, they were home, and everything was instantly hopeless. A sharp grief came out of nowhere, overtaking Atlas in an apathetic sort of terror they were more than familiar with in this state. Ghost was with the humans now. As good as dead, though humans were rarely so kind as to grant a swift end. It was over. Atlas couldn’t save anyone anymore.

Atlas had to hide themself away; Mumbo couldn’t see them like this, so upset, so scared, Atlas was supposed to be a rock; firm, reliable, but they weren’t- the deep couldn’t see how rooted their cowardice truly was.

Atlas pushed themself into the tightest hollow they could find, and they sang, in part to soothe, and in part to hide. Mumbo knew to stay away.

…

There was a stranger in the water.

Escapism was one of Atlas’s finest tricks, and maybe they’d done such a good job of it that they’d fallen asleep, but there was a stranger in the water, and it took Atlas a good while to realize who it was.

They were singing, both Ghost and Mumbo, singing, but Atlas only saw one blurry shape in the distance- no, there were two? Ghost was a gray-pink color, almost translucent- why? Atlas blinked, their senses focusing back on sound. The other two mers were singing Peace. Maybe quite belatedly, Atlas realized they felt calm. Ah.. maybe that was it.

The same effect that kept Atlas’s mind at rest stifled their pride. No use being embarrassed anyway, it was common practice, just.. not typically from stranger to stranger. Not that they viewed Ghost as a stranger, but if Ghost regarded Atlas as one in turn, then.. No use dwelling.

Atlas emerged from their burrow to approach, and Ghost stopped their song, while Mumbo continued on.

‘I don’t get to sing when I’m human. I hope I didn’t assault your ears while I relearned the notes.’ Ghost was a small mer, shockingly small; Atlas had imagined them as big as Mumbo, maybe larger, and was embarrassed in hindsight. The scar that was obscured by their human garb wasn’t easy to see against their pink skin, but Atlas was still able to follow it from Ghost’s eye to the midsection of their tail. Goodness. Atlas didn’t know of a human weapon that could do that to a mer, and they didn’t want to find out. And still Ghost loves them. Trusts them. Atlas didn’t believe Ghost’s trust to be misplaced; if Ghost was still alive, they had to have good judgement, but.. How could it be so easy? How could a mer be so wronged and overcome it all, just like that?

‘Humans don’t sing?’ Atlas asked, but was not surprised. A joyless species blessed with nothing would have to turn to destruction to make up for the holes where their hearts should be.

‘They can, but not like us. There is power behind a human song, but not the same.’ Maybe Ghost sensed Atlas’s animosity, continuing on.

‘You make me worried about my humans on the beach sometimes. Scars is unpredictable, headstrong, and I can not stop them from throwing themself to an early death.’ Ghost’s fins flicked, then shivered in their irritation, ‘I have tried. Regardless, I don’t want you to hurt them, but I can’t control Scars, so I’d like to try and make you more secure here. These humans in particular are expressive animals, they will not hide what they’re feeling. Their faces do not lie. I want you to be able to read them at a click if you’re as blind as me. I’d bring you face to face with Scars so you can see them in full, and I can teach you their expressions. Does that interest you? It is language, understanding. I thought it might.’

Huh. Well.. that made sense, didn’t it. Did it scare Ghost when Scars put itself between them and Atlas earlier today? Did it frighten Ghost to know that if Atlas attacked, there would be nothing Ghost could do, whether they were human or mermaid.

Atlas had no intention of hurting the humans, not these two at least, but more than once Atlas had felt the sparks of white hot panic thrum through their veins, and in the face of anxiety and uncertainty, Atlas knew themself well enough to be sure that they would act. There was no benefit of the doubt to be given here, and regardless of the fact that Atlas knew there was little to fear, the stakes in their own mind were impossibly grave. They could not shake it, no matter how fiercely they willed themself to relax. Their fear ran too deep.

Taking steps to quell the fear.. That would be safer for everyone, wouldn’t it. And this could be useful. The ability to read a human’s face, gauge intention.. who knew when that might come in handy?

‘I am willing. Whenever you’re ready.’

‘I’m ready now,’ Ghost straightened up, and Atlas couldn’t quite tell if they were pleased or anxious, ‘I’d ask where you’re most comfortable, but I need to stay in the shade. I burn in the sun. Let me bring you to the spot, and I’ll fetch Scars. You’ll have plenty of room to be away from them, if that concerns you.’

‘You burn?’ Atlas’s hair raised at the back of their neck, alarmed. Ghost had already started swimming, and did not turn around at Atlas’s question.

‘You will be fine. The pigment of my skin makes me vulnerable. One of my many inconveniences.’

Atlas was still quite afraid of Ghost spontaneously combusting, but the other mer cared very little, only confirming one more time that it was okay to bring Scars over before leaving to fetch the human. Atlas could see them from the shady spot Ghost had picked, and the two of them talked for a good while in the human language before Scars ran for its bag, and Ghost looked positively irked.

Atlas kept their distance as the human walked along the shore at Ghost’s side, the sand turning to muck as they transitioned to a grassier, weedier area. Scars was holding something in its hands, a human garment maybe, but bundled so tightly that Atlas couldn’t tell what it was.

“Hello, Cub!” the human called, and Atlas backed away in turn, to which it adjusted its volume, “hello, hello!” It sat on the muddy peninsula, uncaring for the water that lapped at its legs. Maybe this shouldn’t have been a surprise; Atlas had spent weeks watching it galavant wherever it pleased, but this still unnerved them. The humans up north feared the water, as they should. Falling in was near certain death, and they did fall. Scars showed its teeth like a threat. That wasn’t the case, of course, but what a frightening expression regardless.

‘They’re over the moon right now,’ Ghost whistled, confirmation to what Atlas had already guessed was excitement, ‘Human mouths and eyes are the biggest indicator of emotion; when their mouths are upturned, it generally means they’re happy. The other way indicates sadness, and a strained sadness is stress or pain. You won’t see their teeth much besides when they’re happy, but you might see them if they’re in particularly bad pain.’

Ghost switched gears to address Scars, “Stop smiling.”

“What? Why? When do I get to talk to him?”

“I need uh- Cub, to see a range of human expressions, and you’re too damn happy to do that. Grian won’t do something like this, so you need to start frowning.”

“Don’t you try to tell me Grian never smiles, he has a great smile!”

“That is not at all what I said.”

“You are a dastardly fellow, Etho, you are! I will take none of this slander!”

Ghost, with a couple great fin flicks of irritation turned back to Atlas. ‘They’re making a fool out of themself, but that’s kind of what an unhappy expression can look like.’ Ghost looked back, and Scar was smiling again, kicking his feet in the water. ‘Nevermind. I don’t think I’ll be able to show you now, but if a human is really, genuinely unhappy, you can see it in their eyes. Mermaids don’t have eyebrows, but humans have them to communicate how they’re feeling, and an upset human’s brow will be strained and arched down. Neutral expressions can look unhappy, but the brow is typically relaxed in those cases.’

Atlas gave an acknowledging flick of their tail, unsure if they were just as exasperated as Ghost with this human’s baffling behavior, or if they were more curious than they were afraid. It was just so confusing. How could a human ever be this excited to be hanging around with a mermaid? Did it not realize how dangerous Atlas was?

Mumbo had much to say about this one’s lack of survival instinct, so maybe that was the case. Apparently it had thrown itself at Mumbo several times in acts that could only be described as brilliant suicidality, but Atlas supposed it couldn’t be helped.

Ghost’s whistle halted Atlas’s train of thought. ‘If you’ve had enough, we can try again another time. I can show you more, though. They’d like to talk to you, and you’ll see the most intricacies then.’

‘Let it talk, if it wants,’ Atlas had no qualms here, and honestly, they were curious what the human had to say. Ghost hesitated for a moment, and maybe it knew the floodgates were about to open. Atlas sure didn’t realize what was about to happen here until Ghost gave the human the okay to begin, and from there it did not stop babbling.

Atlas got the sense Ghost was paraphrasing, but they understood why; Scars hardly stopped to breathe, and Ghost wasn’t necessarily a very quick speaker- mermaids weren’t quick, they never talked this much!

From time to time, Ghost would give up translating altogether, instead commenting on Scars’s expression or body language which was becoming marginally easier to understand. It was abundantly clear the humans used their whole body to communicate the same way mermaids did, something that Atlas knew from watching them blunder around on the shore, but it was all the more obvious now. Still a bit frightening watching Scars throw itself around like a ragdoll with grand, sweeping gestures, but Atlas could cope.

They still didn’t understand how Mumbo could stand to listen to this thing, but whatever.

‘They want to know if you have any questions,’ Ghost must have known that Atlas was zoning out, making a small splash to grab their attention. ‘About humans, Scars themself, Star Wars, whatever.’

‘What is a Star Wars.’

‘I’m not asking them that, they just went on about it for the last thirty minutes.’

‘I wasn’t listening.’

‘I wasn’t translating most of it either.’

“What is he saying? Does he have any questions? Please tell him to ask a question, please please.”

‘Scars wants you to ask a question.’

Atlas huffed softly. Of course it did. Anything to talk to a mermaid apparently, even though Scars also spent a not insignificant portion of its day already speaking to one. What’s the point!? Maybe that was too vague of a question.

‘Why mermaids? Why does it care so much if it’s not after our scales or blood? What does it get out of being here? These humans don’t make any sense to me.’

Ghost took a moment to think before translating. For the first time since Scars had been given permission to speak, it shut its mouth, and considered the question, stroking its chin with a finger.

It gave its answer. Ghost relayed the message.

‘Scars thinks mermaids are cool.’

Atlas stared. ‘That’s it.’

‘And they say they like Mumbo. Mumbo is cool. Mumbo is great. Mumbo is his friend and maybe partner. He is honestly not sure and neither is anyone else.’

Atlas snorted. ‘Mumbo says you’re involved, so you’d better be committed. They were upset with you, real upset.’

For the first time, Scars’s face fell.

“What?”

Atlas bristled, unable to help themself. Stupid, clueless human! Mumbo knew that already, they’d spent a lot of time complaining about it, and maybe it was Mumbo’s fault for messing with a species known for its incompetent cruelty, but it still made Atlas so angry.

‘You gift recklessly. You’ve made something of yourselves, then you turn around and give like they are lesser to you. How do you think that made Mumbo feel, weeks on end? If you love so irresponsibly, then you should end this flimsy partnership immediately. Mermaids are not toys for humans to bat around.’

Ghost hesitated multiple times during that translation, halting at the end of each sentence, but despite Scars’s change in demeanor, it urged Ghost on the entire way. And then it was silent.

“Was.. Oh god.” Scars looked at the bundle of cloth in its arms. “Shit.”

“This makes sense actually,” Etho mumbled in human, though they looked more thoughtful than sad. “I was a little surprised your master Friend Making plan was going so well, seemed kinda odd to me.”

“What? Why didn’t you say anything, Etho! Are mermaids sensitive about gift giving or something? How egregious was this exactly!?”

Ghost shrugged. “Not great. I mean would it not go the same way for humans? You’re a human, kinda dating a mermaid, but then another human comes along and your mermaid boyfriend starts showering the new guy in gifts.. not a great look.”

“It’s- I just wanted Cub to warm up to me a little! And they both got gifts, plus Mumbo got all the attention in the world! How was I even supposed to know! I mean- it was only just today Mumbo tried to tell me to cut it out with the gift stuff but- I don’t know!” Scars seemed quite distressed now, but as far as Atlas was concerned, it probably deserved to be.

“Maybe he took the chance because I was here. Who knows. Actually, Cub probably knows.” Ghost switched gears, turning to Atlas, ‘Did Mumbo try to tell Scars before that they were upset?’

Atlas huffed, swinging their head, ‘Mumbo didn’t want to hurt its feelings. They tried ignoring it for a while, but Scars didn’t even notice.’

‘Oh.. Yeah, you don’t really ignore Scars.. If he wants you he’ll have you.’ On cue, the human began to pester Ghost until they translated for it. It then made an odd expression, which Ghost quickly explained was offense.

“Mumbo wasn’t- I thought he just wanted some space! I wanted to respect that!”

Ghost made an odd noise, a long sigh that was far more human sounding than mer, “I don’t necessarily think it’s your fault, Scar. It is how it is. Now you know. Things like this are just going to happen in a cross species- whatever it is that you guys have. Even a normal friendship has given the three of you trouble. You don’t know each other’s cultures and customs, and you can’t communicate at each other efficiently when one of you crosses a line.”

“Do you think I should break things off then? It’s not serious in the first place, I’m pretty sure we’re both on the same page on that front, but I don’t want to keep hurting his feelings. I just want to be friends.”

Ghost shrugged, another human gesture. “I don’t know, Scar. I guess now would be the time to do it since I’m here, but who knows if I can even facilitate that kind of conversation without messing it up. It’s hard. Even this back and forth is hard. At least I don’t think I’ve botched the meaning of anything too terribly. The thing with Mumbo when we got here was a nightmare.”

Scars frowned, looking at its feet swaying in the water. “Well, I’ll think about it tonight. I’m not trying to push you or anything.”

“Thanks,” Ghost mumbled, and they didn’t translate any further, so Atlas assumed they were done here, turning around to leave.

“Oh, bye Cub,” the human called, “Thank you. And- Tell Mumbo he doesn’t have to worry about hurting my feelings, alright? I can take it.”

Ghost translated. Atlas stalled. ‘Thank you? Why?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I upset it, didn’t I? What’s to thank?’

Etho was quiet for a long moment, eyes closed in thought. ‘Humans do not think in black and white. They aren’t just animals.. very similar to us in that way. Scars is unhappy, but you’ve given them an important bit of insight. They’d rather know than not know. Scars doesn’t want to hurt Mumbo, and they don’t want a relationship if inevitable miscommunication will lead to worse outcomes. They want a friend. That’s what’s most important.’

Well- of course. That.. made sense. Atlas probably could have worked that out on their own, but..

It didn’t come naturally. Humans were intelligent, but not complex. That’s how Atlas had always seen them. It wasn’t easy to change their own state of mind.

…

Scars was considering breaking things off with Mumbo? Because of this? Because of the threat of misunderstanding?

Atlas sat with that for a long time, deep into the night.

Maybe it was possible for a human to care.

…

Mumbo sat perched on a smooth rock that stuck out near the surface below Grian’s fishing spot, an area positioned in such a way that Mumbo had many options when it came to staring. He could stare at Grian’s lure skipping through the water, fishless, usually. He could stare at Grian himself, though Mumbo liked staring at him less nowadays with the absence of the mustache. He could stare at Scar, who seemed to love bothering Etho more than he loved bothering Mumbo; a high bar, in Mumbo’s opinion. It was cute the way Scar showed his love, talking and talking and talking.. Mumbo was beginning to think Scar’s hierarchy of friendship could be measured solely off how much attention he tried to steal away from you.

As Mumbo had recently learned, and was witnessing again now in real time, the recipient of Scar’s insistence did not have to give him the light of day for Scar to babble on and on. Mumbo found it sweet. Given the flicking of Etho’s fins, they found it irritating.

Just as often though, Scar would finally leave Etho alone, and Etho wouldn’t last five minutes before trying to recapture Scar’s attention; splashing him, throwing little pebbles until Scar realized where they were coming from (Grian did this just as often, and sometimes he and Etho worked together), proclaiming they were bored and demanding Scar do something about it. Last night, Etho, Scar and Grian had played a human game with Etho’s cards, but even having watched them dozens of times before, Mumbo still struggled to grasp all the concepts. Part of the problem was with his eyesight; he often couldn’t tell the cards apart, especially between the shapes and the same colors, but apparently Etho had trouble too, they just used the bumps on the cards to tell which was which if they weren’t immediately sure off sight.

Mumbo had meant to learn the bumps to get a better grasp of the cards, but usually when Etho and Mumbo were alone together, the focus was on the basics of the human language, not their card games. That was fine though, Mumbo was pretty sure he’d rather watch than play.. Grian and Etho got really competitive. Mumbo suggested once that maybe Scar always won because he never worried about winning, but Etho maintained this was false and Scar was just born lucky, and after relaying the message, Grian had just said ‘no’ a bunch of times. Scar never stopped smiling.

Today was something new.

Mumbo had seen human balls before, the ones they used for sports. They had a lot of sports, all of which Scar had mimed out in great detail many times before. There weren’t very many conditions that defined a ball, but most of them were round, and most fit in two human hands. The one Scar had chosen to fight Etho’s boredom was sort of round, but came to a dull point on both sides. At first Mumbo thought Scar had forgotten he’d already shown Mumbo this ball, until he threw it to Etho, the toy spiraling in a great arc before being caught at Etho’s chest. Whoa.

Scar ran to the water, paying an awed Mumbo no mind as Etho threw the ball back, though their throw was not nearly as good, wobbling in the air and missing its mark by a longshot. Scar was not bothered as he went to retrieve it from the shallow water.

Once Etho learned to throw the ball properly, the back and forth was utterly mesmerizing, and Mumbo found himself gaping at this delightful new game that held the same hypnotic power as a long bubble column. He was so entranced, he completely missed Etho’s whistle the first time, and they had to repeat themselves.

‘Do you want to play?’

Boy did he!

Mumbo was a little startled when Etho tossed him the ball, he didn’t even get close to catching it, but throwing it was a completely different challenge. It didn’t look hard when Scar did it, but when Mumbo tried, the ball really only went somewhere because Mumbo had the brute force strength, not because it had done the pretty spiral the other two had managed. Maybe that was a good thing though since he’d overshot it as it was, Scar having to scramble onto the shore to catch the rogue toy. Mumbo rushed to follow, and luckily, Scar caught on to what Mumbo wanted right away, skipping over to show him how to hold the ball.

“So it’s like this, your fingers on the lace, right?” Scar held the ball firmly, showing Mumbo how his fingers laid on the raised edges. Then he wound back and tossed it Etho’s way, a nice, gentle spiral. Wow. Mumbo wanted to do that. When Etho threw it back, Mumbo intercepted it, fins waving at Scar’s affronted gasp. He lined his fingers up just the way Scar’s had been, and though the webbing between them got in the way a bit, Mumbo would not be letting anything stop him from mastering this human art.

‘Mumbo- You don’t need to wind back that far, don’t-‘ Etho was cut off by their own shrill fright as the ball hurtled towards them, only barely ducking under the waves before the ball bounced ten feet into the air off the surface of the water, flipping wildly before landing with a sad plop. Mumbo’s fins fell. Why hadn’t it spiraled? He’d done it right, hadn’t he?

“You probably shouldn’t throw it so hard-“

‘Are you trying to kill me!?’ Etho burst from beneath the surface, fins trembling- an overreaction in Mumbo’s opinion.

‘Why didn’t it spiral. Tell it to spiral for me.’

‘I’m telling it never to spiral for any mermaids called Mumbo ever again!’ Etho picked up the ball and whipped it at Mumbo, who caught it with little trouble despite the less-than-smooth flight. Huh. Maybe if you threw it too hard it affected the quality of the trajectory?

Mumbo tried tossing it to Scar, and while it still wasn’t great, Mumbo saw the beginnings of progress. Scar must have seen it too, jumping up and down in his excitement despite not catching it.

Mumbo backed away from Scar, aiming for a similar distance he and Etho shared, and the game continued. It wasn’t much longer before Mumbo got the hang of Throw Ball, and he never wanted to stop. He needed to Throw Ball for the rest of his life!!!

(Mumbo couldn’t help but notice that both Scar and Etho did not want to be on the receiving ends of Mumbo’s throws, constantly switching the order from clockwise to counterclockwise, but he pretended not to notice. Perhaps this was a good sign coming from Scar; he must value his life after all if he didn’t want to get nailed by one of Mumbo’s incredible passes.)

At some point in this charade, Grian must have been feeling the FOMO, crawling down from his perch to watch from the sand before yelling something at Scar which Mumbo soon learned was a request for the ball, denied by Scar because Grian wouldn’t get in the water. (knowledge graciously translated by Etho after much pestering) Grian did give in to Scar’s insistence though, tip-toeing in no further than his ankles and still managing to complain the entire way, noise which ceased into a short squeak as Grian scrambled to catch the ball Scar had whipped at him.

Grian and Scar didn’t stop squabbling after his inclusion, but Mumbo didn’t mind. Watching them fight over being in Mumbo’s line of fire gave him a great amount of sinister satisfaction. Both of them would find they were not safe, even positioned diagonally from Mumbo. Etho all but lost it when Mumbo whipped the ball at the wrestling idiots, both humans screaming as they dove out of the way. Grian got a little more wet than he bargained for, and he was not pleased when Mumbo meandered over to check on him laying face down in the sand.

Everything was perfect.

Throw Ball evened out into something a little more consistent, low energy, which Mumbo liked best. The humans and Etho would chat about nothing in all the best ways, and Etho didn’t clue Mumbo in very often, but that was alright. Mumbo probably wouldn’t understand what they were going on about anyway, and at the end of the day, he was just happy to listen. He loved the sound of them talking, just talking, not arguing or wrestling or any other high energy shenanigans. The lower notes, the easy posturing, the consistency, it reminded Mumbo of the sea, of clicking in the deep, a homely kind of background noise.

And then, through the human buzz of conversation, Mumbo perked up at the sound of a few puzzled clicks. Atlas was floating just a little ways away, head half above the water, watching. How long had they been there?

Mumbo flicked his tail, an inviting gesture, but Atlas did not respond, remaining stationary. He hadn’t meant to draw attention to Atlas’s presence, but of course Etho noticed the gesture, and when they looked back, the humans’ eyes were drawn as well. Etho clearly hadn’t meant to expose Atlas either, fins drawn back in a light embarrassment, the ones at the side of their head flicking in a meek ‘hello.’

‘Why don’t you join us?’ Mumbo tried, and looked away before he could see Atlas’s dismissal, demanding the ball from Scar in a series of urgent enough sounding whistles and clicks so that he would get the message. (Etho still had to translate, but Mumbo got the ball in the end anyway.)

Atlas lifted themself a little further out of the water in anticipation, and Mumbo was pleased they’d been watching long enough to know what he intended to do. As gently as he could manage, Mumbo threw the ball in Atlas’s direction, who made no attempt to catch it, but did approach it curiously after it landed in the water, pushing it under and watching it pop back above the surface. Atlas did that a few more times with increasing aggression, then let it be, watching a while before picking it up and putting one of the corners in their mouth.

‘Don’t bite-!’ Etho whistled quickly, to which Atlas looked up, uninterested, but not defiant.

‘Do you want to play?’ Mumbo tried, only to be squinted at, which, he didn’t really know what that meant. But then Atlas took the ball in their hands, throwing it to Etho, maybe, Mumbo was pretty sure the intended target was Etho since they were closest, but in reality the ball was whipped directly down into the water, making a huge splash with the follow through of Atlas’s hand and causing the rest of the crew to jump. As the surrounding waves slowed to a ripple, Atlas looked at the peacefully floating football like it had wronged them.

Mumbo trilled, diving through the water to teach Atlas exactly how it was done. With their words, Atlas told Mumbo he was being a nuisance and they didn’t want to play a dumb human game and they didn’t care and the ball tasted bad, but their body language told a different story. Probably. It was hard to tell since they didn’t really have any fins.. Mumbo chose to believe Atlas was having a interested at least.

On their second try, Atlas’s throw made it most of the way to Etho, enough that it was only a short swim for Etho to retrieve the ball. But it had hardly landed before a bristling Atlas turned on a trilling Mumbo.

‘Stop being so happy.’ And without another word, they were gone.

Mumbo did not, in fact, stop.

[honeii-puff]

Razorblades all in your feet

In which Soren wishes his relatives were less murder-y Read on ao3

Soren wasn’t someone who stared, but if given the opportunity, he’d probably stare at Corvus’ face for the rest of his life and just let the world pass by without him.

He wasn’t extremely expressive, but he liked watching the microexpressions cross Corvus’ face; The way his nose scrunched ever so slightly when talking, the small crease that would form between his eyebrows when he paused to think about something, and the way the left side of his lip would twitch slightly when Soren made a joke.

 Corvus was just so fascinating. Every bit of him was something unexpected, and Soren loved it. He might’ve even said he loved him, if he was naive enough. 

But he wasn’t. He knew better than that.

The two of them had headed back inside from the small courtyard, now walking down the empty hallway, their footsteps echoing against the walls.

“You think Rayla and Callum made out yet?” Soren asked abruptly. Not because he was curious– he was, though– but because he wanted to see Corvus’ reaction.

He sputtered slightly. “I mean- I hardly think it’s my buisne–” he paused. “You’re messing with me.”

Soren snorted lightly. “Yep.”

“You do that a lot.”

“I like seeing how you react to things,” Soren admitted. “You seem like this super stoic person, always 100% serious. I like trying to make you laugh.”

Your laugh makes me want to kiss you over and over again. 

Corvus gave him a small smile. “For the record, I-”

A loud scream and the sound of breaking abruptly cut him off, coming from the ballroom.

Oh no.

They both looked at each other before breaking off into a run, towards the ballroom. Once they got there, they weaved through the crowd to figure out what the hell was going on.

The first thing Soren saw was blood. Thick, crimson blood formed a pool on the pristine floor, under the corpse of a man he didn’t recognize. A gaping hole was in the gentleman’s chest, right where his heart was supposed to be.

He knew what this was…

Viren and Claudia.

How were they so careless?

Usually, they’d be more… discreet. Not that he approved of it in the first place, but they were making a scene.

The air felt too hot and stuffy like it was boiling around him.

He had to get out of there.

Soren weaved back through the crowd, back towards the door, and into the empty hallway, leaving Corvus.

He’d see him again.

Hopefully.

He felt someone grab him by the arm and drag him around the corner. Jerking his arm away, he turned to see that it was Rayla.

“What are you doing?” Soren hissed at her.

“What are you doing?” She shot back at him. “Are you in on this?”

“What? No!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know I’m not.”

“That’d be much more believable if you weren’t leaving.” she narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Rayla, you know I don’t like the surface, and you know that I never partake in whatever blood rituals Viren and Claudia do.” Soren frowned slightly. “You do know that, right?”

Surely she did.

Right?

She ran a hand down her face, sighing. “Why would they do it in public?”

“How should I know?” He threw his hands up. “I haven’t talked to them since yesterday. The best thing I can do is go back and wait.”

It’s getting too dry up here, anyway.

An uneasy silence filled the corridor, and Soren took his cue to leave.

Rayla didn’t try to stop him this time.

——————————————————————

The water was cool on Soren’s skin as he dipped below the surface of the water.

Makes him wonder why he left in the first place.

He dived down alongside the underwater cliff, his hand running along the rocky wall. His eyes adjusted to the darkness of the water, the outlines of lower rockfaces sharpening.

His hand hooked into the top of the cave entrance and dove through it, pausing to look around.

Nothing.

What was he expecting?

He wasn’t sure.

Soren pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, leaning against the cold stone.

He could’ve stayed. He should’ve. There’s nothing here. Why would Viren and Claudia come back down here after doing a ritual to have legs?

He was stupid.

Soren shifted into a sitting position, curling his tail under himself. In doing so, a small clang rang out, causing him to look down. 

The small sheep sculpture had fallen out of his bag and was now lying on the stone next to him.

He picked it up, cradling it in his hands carefully. It was adorable, and hadn’t spent as much time looking at it as he had wished.

Probably because he was too busy looking at Corvus.

He should give it a name.

He flopped onto the ground, peering at the ceramic sheep.

Pyrrah. He’d name it Pyrrah.

[insert-witty-user-name-here]

WIP Wednesday (sorta)

No WIPs on the horizon for me but I’ve been tagged in an assortment of writing posts (thank you all 🥰❤️❤️) so thought I’d use the opportunity to share a (very angsty) scene from my cutting room floor that I like but never quite went anywhere.

O.B. and Casey ask Mobius for his opinion on a new statue dedicated to Loki at the TVA, angst ensues.

***

Mobius blinks, pulled from his memories by the sound of chairs scraping against the linoleum floor. The meeting is over. His coworkers gather their things and meander out of the conference room—laughing, gossiping, planning follow-up meetings—but Mobius stays seated and stares at his notepad. It's empty. He slumps, running a weary hand through his hair. He hadn’t paid any attention to Judge Gamble’s briefing on this cycle’s latest threats to the multiverse. Again.

He’ll need to get the notes from Bea. Mobius gets up, trying to ignore the churning in his stomach as he searches for Bea amongst the crowd. There’s no way she hasn’t noticed Mobius slipping—the way he’s constantly asking for her notes, the decreasing numbers of files he’s completing, how patterns that used to seem so obvious elude him lately. She’s looked the other way thus far but eventually she’ll need to take disciplinary action, whatever that means in their new TVA. Mobius can handle it and honestly, she’s already given him more leeway than she should as their new Director.

It doesn’t take long for him to find her. Bea’s standing at the end of the hallway, embroiled in what appears to be a hushed argument with Casey and O.B. Despite the anxiety pounding through his system, Mobius’ curiosity spikes.

“Hey guys.”

Bea jumps slightly at his approach—odd—and turns around with a forced smile. “Oh, hey Mobius,”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she answers too quickly. She shifts when O.B. tries to get around her, file in hand. It's a futile attempt to hide the technician from Mobius’ view.

“Right,” Mobius chuckles, stepping around Bea to take the file from O.B.’s outstretched hands. He might be losing his edge but he’s not useless yet. He can detect a lie when he sees one. “You know, Bea, I might have believed you if not for…”

The words die in Mobius’ throat as soon as he opens the file.

They’re plans. Plans for a new statue in the atrium; a statue dedicated to the person who made everything they do now possible, the holder of all the timelines, their savior, the person whose absence is felt like a dagger to Mobius’ chest with every heartbeat.

He looks gorgeous, just like always. Whoever designed the statue did a great job. They almost captured Loki’s likeness. His hair curls loosely about his shoulders, his jaw set and determined, his expression regal—though his eyes are missing that familiar, mischievous twinkle. He’s dressed in emerald robes and wearing those magnificent horns Mobius had last seen him in. In all his years studying Loki variants, Mobius had never seen a Loki with a larger set. They’re a testament to the power he wielded that day. After centuries, it seemed Loki finally found his glorious purpose. Mobius wishes the sight filled him with pride. Instead, he’s taken straight back to his nightmares.

“We wanted to honor him,” Casey begins in a soft voice, “but we weren’t sure if it’s what he would want so we thought we’d ask…” Casey trails off.

They thought they’d ask the Loki expert, Mobius finishes, gulping past the lump forming in his throat. Smart plan. If anyone knew how Loki would want to be remembered, it would be Mobius. Except…

He doesn’t know.

The thought strikes Mobius with harrowing realization. In another time, this statue would be exactly what Loki would want. Mobius’ mouth quirks up into a smile as he recalls the statue Loki had arranged for himself on the Sacred Timeline following his fake death on Svartalfheim. It had been a grandiose, expensive thing. Another prank pulled by the God of Mischief.

Mobius’ smile is gone as soon as it appears because that Loki isn’t his Loki. This time, it isn’t a trick. It isn’t part of some grand plan. Or, at least, not one that Mobius can understand.

He has so many questions about that day. How long had Loki been timeslipping? How many other options had he tried before he settled on that final decision? What led him there? Had he spoken with someone beforehand; had they led Loki to this conclusion?

Mobius shuts his eyes in an effort to clear the now familiar tears building behind them. Why hadn’t Loki talked to him? What hadn’t he asked for help? Mobius is sure he could have convinced Loki to try something else. They could have figured out a solution if only they’d worked together. Why did Loki think this was the only option? Why did this sacrifice fall to him and him alone? Why didn’t he say goodbye? Why? Why? Why? Why? The questions circle around and around in Mobius’ head. Forever unanswered.

“Mobius?” O.B. prompts. “Do you know if Loki would be okay with this? We don’t want to move forward until we know.”

Mobius opens his mouth in an attempt to answer but nothing comes out. He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know if this is what Loki would want because that Loki, the Loki who sacrificed himself for all of them, is a stranger to Mobius. That Loki had spent who knows how long traveling through time, attempting to find a solution, alone. There are no reels for what happens within the TVA, no reels for Mobius to analyze.

Sometimes, when he dreams, Mobius swears he can remember moments with Loki that never happened. Arguments, laughter, philosophical conversations over pie, even… There’s one night in particular Mobius returns to often in his dreams. He flushes at the memory before shaking it away. It all feels so real when he’s asleep but when he’s awake his memories jumble together until he can’t determine what happened and what didn’t. It makes him feel untethered, these half-forgotten memories, these dreams, these fantasies. Mobius settles on that last word: fantasies. That's all they are. Something his mind has manufactured in a desperate attempt to make sense of what Loki did.

“Mobius?” O. B. tries again. “Is this what Loki would want?”

Would want. Past tense. Because Loki isn’t coming back. Not this time. Mobius takes a breath but it doesn't reach his lungs.

“I—” he stutters. The papers shake in his hands, that image of Loki holding the timelines grows larger on the page until it consumes the world around him and Mobius feels himself slipping back into his memories. “Um, I don’t…”

Suddenly, it’s too bright and the ringing in his ears has returned. It’s the alarm from the observation deck blaring a warning that they’re running out of time until the loom breaks. Mobius’ wipes sweat from his brow. It’s excruciatingly hot; he wonders if he should be worried about the temporal radiation leaking through the glass window before him but he can’t focus on anything except Loki. Loki walking out onto the gangway. Loki raising his arms to break the loom. Loki grabbing hold of the timelines and breathing life into them with that brilliant, beautiful green magic of his. Loki turning back, one last time, to give him a smile before he-

“Mobius?” Bea puts a grounding hand on Mobius’ arm and Mobius forces himself to the present. He can’t allow himself to be overtaken by that particular memory again. He can’t.

“I’m fine,” Mobius says after a moment. “Just a headache. Really,” he adds at Bea’s unconvinced stare before turning to O.B. and Casey. “To answer your question, O.B., I don’t know. I don’t know what Lo-“ Mobius’ voice catches on the name. “I don’t know what he’d want. Not anymore. Maybe he’d like a statue. Maybe not. I just… I don’t…”

“It’s okay,” Bea cuts in, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll put the plans on hold and revisit them later.” Her last words are unmistakably a stern warning to O.B. and Casey to drop the subject.

“But-” O.B. starts.

“We get it,” Casey nods. “We’ll come back later. Feel better, Mobius.”

With a pitying glance that Mobius begrudges but can’t say he doesn’t deserve, Casey takes the file from his hands and guides O.B. back down the hallway, leaving Bea and Mobius alone.

Mobius half expects Bea to follow, he can’t imagine her to do list, but she doesn’t. He can feel her eyes boring down at him while he scuffs at the TVA emblem on the floor below. For all time. Always. Mobius snorts. Yeah, right.

He knows what he has to do. He can’t be here anymore. The memories are too loud, too painful. And more importantly, the new TVA deserves better than an old, washed-up analyst broken beyond repair.

Mobius takes a shuddering breath. “Look, Bea, I’ve been thinking…”

“Can we get some lunch,” Bea interrupts.

Mobius meets her gaze confused. He knows they need to have this conversation. He knows that she knows that they need to have this conversation and yet…

Neither of them are ready. He can see it in her eyes. Somehow she knows what he’s about to say and she doesn’t want to have this conversation any more than he does.

“I’ve been implementing some changes,” Bea starts. “Trying to get something better than wilted salad and stale pizza in the cafeteria,” she adds with an awkward laugh. Then, she pauses, uncharacteristically hesitant “I’d love to get your thoughts if you’ve got time. If anyone knows how to make this place better, it’s you and …I could really use your help, Mobius.”

Mobius sighs. It’s an easily delegatable task, a distraction technique. Bea doesn’t need his help picking the food in the cafeteria. But—Mobius meets Bea’s gaze—she’s scared. There’s no script for them now; the future is unknown. There’s no guarantee that anything they do will make a difference or if it’s even the right thing to do. Amidst all the changes, she needs the reassurance. And in a way Mobius does too. The TVA might be haunted for him now but it’s the only home he can remember. He doesn’t know where to begin out on the Timelines. He isn’t sure if he’s ready to leave. Yet.

“Sure,” Mobius says. “Let’s grab some lunch and we can talk through your plans for the place. I’m sure they’re great.”

Bea smiles in relief and they make their way to the cafeteria. Mobius half-listens as she chatters away, outlining her plans to improve life at the TVA. He won’t be here to see them through. It’s only a matter of time before he leaves but that conversation can wait a little longer.

***

The finale was sad but lemme tell you the tears didn’t come for me until that conversation with B-15 and Mobius. 😭💔

Anyway, sorry to leave it here with hurt/no comfort but if you need some comfort, recommend Tell Me Some Things Last - a lovely story by @loki-is-my-kink-awakening about Sylvie & Mobius healing that I’ve fully adopted into my own headcanon. Also shamelessly plugging my own Lokius S2 reunion fic (which is where this scene was going to drive towards eventually anyway).

No pressure tagging my fellow creatives back for a “last line” “seven sentence Sunday” or “WIP Wednesday” whatever floats your boat. I want to hear what you’re working on and absolutely love reading your writing updates as they come in!

Happy writing! 💖

@loki-is-my-kink-awakening @lgwilt @kcscribbler @blackbirdofasgard @queen-of-meows @dewdropreader @mirilyawrites @wolfpup026

[lonelierthanu]

Penmanship

Satoru Gojo x Gender-neutral Reader

series: incomplete

words: 3.4k

warnings: mentions of smoking; funny; meet-ugly; no mentioned female or male anatomy; no spoilers; no curses; slow build; slow to update; college au

summary: you decided you never want to see this man again and fuck the pen altogether. Well, life has other plans.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 …+

Your coffee splashed dramatically against the concrete wall you tossed it at. You’re pissed, to say the least, and the sugarless coffee —that you asked for extra sugar for— was your tipping point.

You were behind some bleachers that laid against the wall outside the dining hall. You’re not sure why these bleachers are here? They seem old and were probably here way before the school was renovated and they put in a huge football field across campus. The school is old so you wouldn’t be surprised if they just left it here. But right now you’re grateful they did because you’re knee deep in a tantrum, if one wants to consider it one, and this is your only sanctuary at the moment.

“Was that necessary?” Aoi asks you, after he takes a drag from his cigarette.

“I thought you said you were going to quit?” Rikki asks from beside him.

“And I thought you said you would never date Tenji,” he mumbles under his breath as he takes another drag and doesn’t bother blowing away from her direction, a courtesy he would have usually given. Rikki scowls at the side of his face.

“We’re not dating.”

“The pictures on his instagram say something different,” Aoi takes another drag.

“I was… drunk…” Rikki crosses her arms as she kicks a rock towards your direction. It lands back in its spot after bouncing off your shoe. It startled her attention towards you, like she suddenly remembered you were there.

You roll your eyes at both of them and lean against the opposite wall from them. Since you’ve known them they’ve had a weird relationship. At least in your eyes. You’ve known them for a little longer than a year and they’ve had an on and off crush on each other since the three of you met. And the two sides have never been on the same page. One person has a crush on the other, then the other gets feelings when the other person loses feelings . It’s a weird dynamic that you wish they’d get over already.

But a part of you wants it to stay this way, so your friendship never changes. But you know that one day this weird game of tug of war will come to an end and it’ll either end in peace, or someone in the mud.

“To answer your question Aoi, yes. That was completely necessary,” You say to break the silence. Rikki jumps at the opportunity to change the subject and cut through the tension. She comes to lean next to you.

“What’s got your panties in a twist anyway?”

“Remember that creepster that thought I was hitting on him for a week?” Rikki tries to hold back her laugh. She fails. You had told her about what happened the next morning after the incident on Saturday. Despite her hangover she found the misunderstanding hilarious. Laughing while saying ‘oh my god, that is so something he would do!’ And you ended up filling Aoi in during one of your class periods you shared with him a couple hours ago.

“Yeah,” she answers, failing to hide her smile.

“Well my professor paired us up for a group project,” you cross your arms.

“At the end of the semester?” Aoi asks as he stomps on his cigarette to put it out, “How does she expect you to get a project done during the week of exams?”

“No, starting next semester is when we start the project. The worst part is, we’ll be working on it ‘till February,” You groaned into your hands, covering your face with them.

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” Rikki tries to console you by putting a hand on your shoulder. You put your hands down to glare at her.

“Don’t jinx me,” Rikki laughs at you. Aoi smirks, also finding this amusing. “And wipe that smug look off your face,” you point a finger directly in Aoi’s face. He pushes your hand out of the way and rolls his eyes at you, still smug.

You stuff your hands into your jacket pockets, trying to fight off the cold. You’re not looking forward to next semester, to say the least, and when you heard the devastating news of Creepster being your project partner you immediately started thinking of ways to get out of it.

Because since that Saturday you had heard no word of this man until that following Monday. He came in late, like usual, but before he showed up your professor had given the whole spiel about the details of the new project the class would be working on. Everyone picked their own partner but you since there was an odd number of students in the class. Then Creepster walked in.

She told him you’d be his partner and he turned his head to look at you while she vaguely explained the project to him. Your body turned cold when his smirk grew wider. Like he was looking forward to this. The professor dismissed him to his seat saying you could explain in more detail.

When he sat down he faced you, completely ignoring the rest of the professor’s lecture. He leaned his head on his hand, smirk still present on his face. You refused to look at him and continued looking forward.

“Hey partner,” you internally recoiled. He sensed your unease and with the new bout of knowledge that this guy thinks you have some sort of crush on him, or just wanna get in his pants, he probably took your unease for nervousness. The thought alone pissed you off.

He barely got two words out of you in that class, which was yesterday, and today was no better. Though somehow you ended up agreeing to go to his house (his real house) to outline and plan the beginning of the project to finish it faster after the break. It was his idea and it honestly shocked you to hear him suggest a genuine responsible plan. Not gonna lie, you definitely thought the word “ responsible “ didn’t exist within his vocabulary.

You only mildly cared about this idea. You mostly agreed to do so you can finally get that damn pen back before you go on break. You’ll be damned if you go home empty handed when you confidently told your niece you’d bring it back.

“So. What are you gonna do?” Aoi asks, putting his hands into his jacket pockets as well.

“Get my pen back,” you answer, then your phone rings before you can look at his confused expression. It’s your alarm to go to your last class. You leave them to ruminate in their awkward tension.

Creepster told you he’d pick you up after school to take you to his house. You were definitely uncomfortable with the idea of being alone in a car with this man, but you don’t have money for a ride right now, Rikki went to work today, and it beats walking an hour and a half to his place.

You waited at the school's gate for fifteen minutes and was about to text him when you remembered you don't have his number. But before you could stress over that fact, a shiny black Lexus pulled up in front of you. The driver window lowered revealing a strange man at the wheel. He said your name and asked if you were who you were. You didn’t answer at first but then Creepster moved into your line of vision in the passenger seat.

“Get in loser,” he laughed at his own reference, then smiled at you. You rolled your eyes and opened the door to the back seat.

The drive was fairly short, probably a little shorter than ten minutes, and the drive was not silent. But you were glad for that, because if it weren’t for the surprisingly good tunes being blasted through the speakers, you know your awkward uncomfortable air would have permeated through the windows for the other drivers on the road to feel. You’re also glad that you aren’t alone with this guy. That would have been a whole different situation for you.

When you pull up to his house you physically feel the hinges connecting your jaw to your skull unclick. You gawk at the state of his house while you pick your jaw up off the car floor.

His house is fucking huge.

And this is his actual house. You have half a mind to confirm that.

When you head inside you have to put in extra effort to keep your eyes from bulging out of their sockets. It’s just as beautiful on the inside as it is on the outside. The difference between this and the frat house is vast.

For starters, it’s furnished way better. Which makes you think he definitely didn’t do it himself. It’s clean, which you weren’t expecting, and it smells nice. Another thing you weren’t expecting but desperately hoping for.

“So, should we get started?” Creepster says from behind you. It startles you how close he is. You jump at least a foot away before turning to him.

“Yeah,” you say, calmer than your heart is beating. He guides you to his dining room where a large circular table resides next to a beautiful huge island with high bar stools tucked into it and a sink in the middle. The dining area is surrounded by windows, letting copious amounts of natural sunlight in. The room is brightly lit without any lights being on. It’s impressive. This is the type of room you’d save in a pinterest board.

He pulls out a chair for you to sit on, but the way he smiles at you after pisses you off so you sit in the chair next to it. He seems amused by this, and chuckles fondly.

“I’m gonna go grab my laptop, I'll be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” he jokes. You don’t laugh, but he walks away without seeing if you do or not. You see him walk through an alcove in the kitchen and go to the right. Once you know he’s gone you look more thoroughly at your surroundings. You see a set of grandiose stairs in the living room by the entry. And from where you’re seated you can see two halls up there and a third one could exist but it’s too high to tell. You already know you’d get lost trying to walk through here. Your family would have to send a search team to find you.

Your eyes shift over to see grand imposing glass doors that lead to a pool, there could be more land out there but you can’t tell from where you’re sitting. But from how huge the estate is from when you pulled up you already know the backyard is huge. You don’t see any other doors around besides the one in the kitchen, but you just assume that’s a broom closet or a bathroom or something.

Just from looking around you’ve lost a glimmer of hope of finding this pen. It’d be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. You’re already preparing the apology to your niece in your head.

“You want a tour?” You whip your head around to see Houdini putting his laptop and bag onto the table and pulling a chair out across from you.

“No,” you answer immediately because the thought of him knowing you’re impressed by his home makes you wanna scratch at your skin. But after a quick second you realize that that could’ve been your chance to find the pen. You curse at yourself. He sits down and opens his laptop. You take yours out from your bag and place it on the table as well.

You want to just open your mouth and ask for the pen again, but a part of you is scared he’ll think you're trying to hit on him again. You agreed to come to his house so that could definitely send the wrong message in this guy’s delusional brain.

“Can I get your notes on the project so far?” He asks without looking up from his laptop. You take your notebook out of your bag and slide it across the table. He shares a doc with you before opening it. So, he really is going to work on this project. A part of you thought this was another ruse to sleep with you. To say you’re relieved is an understatement.

The next half hour goes by with him asking you yes or no questions, finding resources to cite from, quotes, studies, creating the powerpoint and typing in each slide what each should consist of, and starting a rough draft for the essay you’re meant to write. Everything is going pretty smoothly and you’re proud of the progress you’ve made in such a short time. You’re also pleasantly surprised by Herc-Houdini’s work ethic. You’re starting to think he might not be that bad.

And honestly, when you think about the situation, you can kind of see how he misunderstood. It may seem a little absurd to you that asking for a pen correlates to ‘please sleep with me’, but if there are people doing weirder things to get him to sleep with them, then you kind of understand. You’re still not very keen on him though. His reputation and the crowd he’s associated with just puts you off.

Hercules groans loudly as he stretches his arms. The muscles in them tense and show off the gains he’s worked for. A small part of you thinks that he wore that shirt on purpose, but when he’s relaxed he looks as skinny and lanky as always.

I’ll be right back,” he tells you before getting up and heading for that same alcove, going to the left. You vaguely notice him going in a different direction than before and go back to doing your work. You almost jolt with the realization that you could look around and find the pen while he’s gone.

Frankly, this could be a terrible idea. You don’t know what he’s doing so he could be back any moment. You could say you were looking for a bathroom, but then you could’ve just asked when he got back. You’re already up and walking while thinking of the logistics of this plan. It’s stupid, you know, but what if you find the pen? It seems like a great risk to reward ratio to you.

Knowing Sherlock went to the left you check there first once you’ve met the alcove, then dash to the right and go through the first door you see. Unfortunately, you’re met with a bathroom so your excuse has now flown out the window. You could just play dumb.

Before you exit, you listen to the door, then slowly open it to peek outside. Still nothing, so you leave, closing the door behind you before going to the next one. You do this three more times. You were met with two closets and a study, that you did search just in case. When you see the end of the hall you start to feel disappointed, but then you realize there’s a sharp corner. When you turn it, you see a narrow set of stairs.

At this point, you know that you took entirely too long and that Houdini has most likely gone back to the table and realized you were gone. Taking these stairs will make your search even longer and there’s no plausible explanation you could give that’ll justify you snooping around this guy’s house.

You give yourself three seconds to think it over.

Fuck it.

You’re justifying the irrationality of your actions to yourself as you trudge up the stairs, also pretending that the consequences that will undoubtedly follow won’t be that bad. But really? What’s the worst that could happen? He bans you from his home? No biggie. If you find this pen, you don’t plan on coming back anyway.

Or maybe he’ll hate you and think you’re extremely unmannered. Fine by you, then the feeling of dislike will be mutual and he’ll finally leave you alone forever.

Or maybe he’ll lie to his “clique” that you’re a thief and only agreed to do a project with him so you could slither your way into his house and they all make fun of you for the duration of your college career which will then spiral into more awful rumors and you’ll be branded an outcast and be ridiculed so horrendously that not even your friends will want to be around you…

…Or maybe you’re overthinking it entirely and it’ll all be perfectly fine.

As you come to a stop at the top of the stairs you realize that there were three halls up here. You don’t dare check the view below in fear that Sherlock will see you. So, you creep along the wall that you hope isn’t in view from down stairs and bolt for the nearest hallway. Heart beat pumping a million beats per second.

You open the first door, a closet. A second door, a very small bedroom with nothing but a bed and a lonely side table. A third door, a much bigger room with a pretty sweet gaming setup, though it looks unfinished.

The end of the hall, a large room that’s akin to a master bedroom, a bathroom and balcony included. The room isn’t quite messy, but it does appear to be lived in. The bed unmade, a dresser drawer left open, a couple clothing items on the floor near the hamper, and miscellaneous items strewn about in flat surfaces.

A pair of huge, round, dark sunglasses sitting on top of the dresser tell you exactly whose room you’ve stumbled into.

Once you’ve realized, a moment of doubt passes through you. What if he finds you here? But as quickly as it came, it passed. You’ve made it this far unnoticed, what’s one more minute.

A quick glance tells you that the pen isn’t lying about so you begin your search. You only look in places it could possibly be and refrain from his dressers. You check random bags that were in his extraordinarily large walk-in closet. You check in hoodie and pants pockets even. You leave the closet with a fraction less of hope and check under his bed. Still Nothing. You have half a mind to check his dirty clothes but decide to check his bedside drawers before getting that desperate.

It’s when you’re about to wiggle yourself from under Houdini’s bed that you hear it.

“Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to snoop?”

You jolt so hard you hit your head on the bed frame while trying to frantically wiggle free. When you do, you're met with that same smirk. Like he’s amused to find you this way. He walks towards you from the door frame, you unconsciously backup and bump against the side table. He stops right in front of you and bends down slightly to tower over you, his face slightly shrouded in darkness.

“If you wanted a tour you could have just said so,” he drawls deeply, in a quiet tone that sends a shiver down your spine.

“No, I-“ he chuckles.

“You, what? hm?” he takes one of his hands out of his pockets to reveal your pen, “You we’re looking for this?” Your eyes widen for a fraction of a second before a glare marks its position on your face. Was he making fun of you?

“Give it to me,” you try to reach for it, but he effortlessly dodges out of the way. He patronizingly waves a finger at you.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he taunts, “I can’t just give it to you now,” irritation bubbles within you.

“And why the hell not?”

“Because. You pranced around my house uninvited and invaded my privacy,” You stand up, refusing to be looked down upon, even though standing up he’s still taller than you.

“So? Then what do you want?” He hums to your question and puts the end of the pen on his chin as he contemplates.

“How much are you willing to do for this pen?” You raise a judgmental eyebrow at him. “Of course nothing drastic,” he adds, “but how far are you willing to go?”

“Well, if i’m willing to stifle through a man’s house like some kind of thief then I guess you can gauge it yourself,” He smiles at that. He lowers his glasses and you see his crystal blue eyes in person for the first time. You’re almost enraptured by them until he opens his mouth.

“Date me.”

(･ω<)☆

when i tell you i didn’t know what the fuck to write 💀last chapter i realized that is abt to be a s l o w b u r n and i’m right there along with you guys wondering what’s abt to happen next 😭 hopefully chapter 5 won’t take 4 months this time 🙃

★prev next ☆

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 30 - Reposition

Story so far

I was going to post a WIP but realised that the next chapter had got so long I may as well cut it and post in two or three parts, the first of which is here. Do they actually get to the point yet? No. No they do not. But they are thinking about it.

Also - please do not treat my ill-advised and much-mangled metaphor as legitimate advice on how to save someone from a rip. I’m a seaside girl so feel compelled to say - DO NOT DIVE INTO RIP CURRENTS PLEASE AND THANK YOU.

💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙

There were a lot of hugs over the next couple of days. Pretty much wherever Virgil chose to sit he’d find himself sharing the chair, or at least the elbow room, with at least one family member. Usually more. During waking hours they moved around the villa like iron filings trailing a magnet.

The filings weren’t generic in their behaviour of course. Alan favoured a hand hold and a continual commentary on whatever happened to be crossing his mind - Virgil encouraged this, still not entirely persuaded by his baby brother’s assurances that he now accepted nothing had been his fault. There was perhaps more of the eldest in the youngest than in any of the rest of them, yet Virgil didn’t have the same instinctive read on the younger man’s expression. He was more than content to keep him close until he could be sure.

John, by contrast was quiet, watchful and specialised in the almost undetectable shoulder nudge. His presence was most striking for its tangibility and yet again Virgil found himself wishing it didn’t always take something awful happening before he could enjoy it.

Gordon, unfussy, tended to cling to whatever part of Virgil was available and on one occasion had abandoned all pretence of cool and leapt on to his back to be transported around, limpet-like, until Virgil threatened him with Four’s sonic hull-scraper.

Kayo had become surprisingly obsessed with ruffling his excessively curly, unstyled hair at every opportunity. Except today she was pouting because in celebration of waking up with the last traces of meds almost entirely expunged from his system, Virgil had reached for his beloved pomade (the recipe for which he’d only slightly tweaked from the version his father had used) and finally tamed the floof so he could look as well as feel more like himself again.

Even Brains had been unusually present recently, having just transferred his hours of poring over technical specs on his tablet up a few thousand stairs. Which meant Virgil got to join in and they’d exchanged some useful ideas for modifications with Alan chipping in not unintelligently. Until the engineer started to ask Virgil’s thoughts on some upgrades to Shadow at which point a series of crashing noises from the kitchen area had spooked him and he’d darted for the stairs muttering something about time-sensitive testing. Gordon had snorted about how at least Scott might reduce the washing up carnage he always produced while on meal-prep if he smashed it all as he went along. Virgil chuckled but it felt a little hollow and his throat was dry.

Scott… well… Scott had taken on the brunt of the food prep duty and had thrown himself into it with his usual energy. It had not gone unnoticed that every single one of Virgil’s childhood favourites had appeared on the table at some point over the last week. A steady stream of cookies and pastries had also been emerging because “Virgil needed fuel for his recovery”. Given his freakish lack of activity Virgil wasn’t convinced he needed quite so much extra fuel but had had more than a little assistance in consuming them. Alan had enthusiastically proposed shutting down Tracy Industries altogether as they could make just as much profit with a bakery if only Scott would get his priorities right more often. The chef had been toasted heartily for the good fortune of avoiding Grandma’s genes.

John and Virgil had exchanged a glance, both remembering what the younger two did not - that on the occasions where the messages from the moon base, or from the Mars mission had dried up - their Mom had channelled her anxiety and helplessness into frantic baking sprees. The community cake sales were never so well stocked when Jeff was safely planetside.

When not engaged in destroying the kitchen, Scott had hovered as expected but he hovered at the edges of the pack. Encouraging smiles, chuckles in all the right places as affectionate banter flowed. He teased a little, he ticked the tinies off for their excesses and he argued with John about a mathematical theorem Virgil knew his normally fastidious brother had deliberately misquoted to get a rise out of the older man.

Unlike with Alan, Virgil was entirely immune to this particular facade - a lot was not right with his best friend. His voice was wrong, too steady, unnaturally even. He was constantly just out of reach which was utterly wrong for Scott who was the most tactile human he knew. The man even looked wrong for some reason Virgil couldn’t put his finger on.

Grandma had been keeping a weather eye from a distance, albeit usually in the same room, or perhaps one away. Virgil glanced up and caught her eye as she leaned on the balcony of the mezzanine. She’d smiled, initially, and then frowned a little, raised her eyebrows and looked deliberately towards Scott, who was currently entirely unnecessarily explaining to Alan why he needed to finish high school. The woman had never been one for the subtle hint.

His brother was lost at sea, caught in a rip tide and drifting from the safety of the beach and Virgil had the only life preserver. It was inevitable that the circumstances of his illness would have knocked his eldest brother off course and Virgil still didn’t know exactly what had happened. All the possible implications rushed and sucked menacingly just below the surface and he knew the only way to reach Scott in time would be to face his terror and dive into the current to find out for himself what it carried.

Yet he never seemed to be in quite the right position at quite the right moment to make the leap…

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

Sometimes the boys just needed dragging into the right places.

“I’ve taken the liberty of informing Casey that International Rescue is on hiatus for at least another seven days.”

Sally released Scott’s arm and insinuated herself between Virgil and the coffee machine - the one piece of kitchen equipment with which she held no beef.

“The GDF will cover what needs to be covered. EOS is monitoring and will let us know if that appears to be falling apart.”

Her eldest grandchild rolled his eyes and somehow his entire body followed.

“Give them a chance, Scott, they may surprise us yet. Tracy Industries is in the perfectly competent hands of your COO and all the regular SMT meetings are postponed for a month due to your sabbatical…”

“My… my what?”

“You heard.”

Scott stood, hands on hips and gaped like a fish while Virgil tried to surreptitiously cover his grin by resting an arm on the kitchen island and leaning on his hand. Sally struggled to keep a straight face as he misjudged and his elbow slipped off the edge.

“The regular maintenance schedule has been paused - Brains has pulled the guts out of Thunderbird One and spread them all over the hangar and Two is both wing- and engine-less so neither is going anywhere fast. I believe Shadow is next on his list…”

Sally found herself wishing she had a camera to catch the identikit expressions of horror on both the boys’ faces - the same one they thought she never saw when she announced she’d been baking.

“Gordon has taken John, Kayo and Alan diving off the new reef. There is nothing left you boys need to do other than have that conversation you’ve been avoiding.”

She placed two steaming mugs of coffee on the countertop, reached up her hands to effect simultaneous destruction on both immaculate hairstyles and left them to it.

💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙

Scott ran an anxious hand through his hair, trying but not quite succeeding to recover the precisely gelled arrangement and Virgil suddenly realised what had been bothering him about Scott’s appearance. Something HAD changed.

He peered at his brother’s hairline.

“You’ve dyed it!”

[oh-shtars]

@cocoapowderpictures @signed-sapphire @ficsinhistory (+ others)

Guys, Wake Up!! It’s the ref sheet for the guy you were all happy to see mentioned in the last post ;3

Character Notes:

- Works as the Royal Announcer and as Rosas’ tour guide

- He’s of Greek heritage :)

- I decided to make red and black his key colours to symbolise his boldness and how he’s a secret rebel in plain sight.

- In the RFTS!AU, everyone above 18 has given away their first wish and afterwards, as many as they’d like. Flazino is 21 and like many others, has no idea what were or even how many wishes he did give away.

- Does he love Asha? Yes. Very much. Romantically? Nope. Are they just friends? Yes but also no.

- Acts like a very bouncy and outgoing guy on the job but is actually pretty reserved and calmer whenever he’s just being himself and casual. As a result, he gets exhausted for forcing himself to be extra ‘quirky’ while working.

- The reason he’s so “extra” on his tours is because he wants to make the most out of the only few highlights of his day. Flazino dreads the in-between moments where it just feels like he’s just….waiting. But for what exactly? With no memory of his wishes, he doesn’t have anything to look forward to the next day. Anything that could motivate him. Something that he could pursue. But there’s…nothing. (He hates staring at the ceiling thinking about this every night.)

- One of the only few dreams he does have is his love for learning/using magic. And Flazino is not planning to give that away this time. And thus, he hangs on to it tightly despite the fact its use is forbidden.

- Flazino gets little sleep in most some nights to read and learn about small-scale, simple magic-casting. (It’s the only time he could with minimal risk of getting caught.) It’s a way better thing than spending the night in dreadful emptiness and it’s a distraction from his otherwise, mostly bland day.

- Flazino also notices that he’s not the only person experiencing this weird emptiness. He just seems to be the only one who acknowledges it instead of pretending it’s “fine.” After a few years of waiting for his wishes that are probably never coming, Flazino attempts to negotiate with Magnifico for a “better Wish System” but he always ends up getting ignored though.

- Flazi sort of isolated himself in a way because he couldn’t stand the fake satisfied faces people are going with their lives. He was so damn happy to find out Asha has her own doubts of the king’s wishing system too. He basically stuck around after that.

Flazino: “I swear- I canNOT continue like this anymore. There’s something unfair about all this and I’m SICK of pretending there isn’t just because everyone says so- I don’t sound that crazy, right?”

Asha: ……………. Uhhhhhh No? I get it. Sort of??

Don’t you wanna get away? From the same old part you gotta play?

‘Cause I got what you need, so come with me and take the ride,

It’ll take you to the Other Side!

‘Cause you can do like you do, Or you can do like me,

Stay in the cage, or you’ll finally take the key,

Oh damn, suddenly you’re free to fly,

It’ll take you to the Other Side!

(Can’t resist another “The Other Side” opportunity. It’s one of my favourite catchy songs and it fits well. X3)

[azure-firecracker]

The X-Files Season 4 Review (First-Time Watcher)

It has been a minute but we are back!

(Full disclosure - I am actually a little ways into Season 5 as I write this. College has given me more time with energy for watching than energy for writing. Such is life!)

Life seemed to stand between me and this season. I finished the first half in about a week and a half, and then the second half in three times that because…college happened. But we got there! And oh boy did we get a lot.

This season was hyped up to me even before I watched it (it won my favorite seasons poll a while back) and it DID NOT disappoint! I think this season managed to merge the melancholic energy of season 2 with the consistency of season 3. The first half was especially consistent (out of the first 10 episodes, there wasn’t a single one I didn’t like), and while the second half was a bit more uneven in terms of quality, when it hit it hit hard!

I thiiink Season 2 still takes my favorite spot among the seasons, but this is a close second. It’s just so good, and the second half especially has this looming sense of heartbreak that I haven’t seen in the other seasons. If Season 1 is a campy monster flick, Season 2 is an alien soap opera, and Season 3 is an action movie, then Season 4 is a Shakespearean tragedy of epic proportions, wrought with miscommunication, near-misses, and hurtling towards an unavoidable, doomed ending that lurks in the background even of the most mundane moments. I’m a sucker for a good tragedy, so I loved every moment we got. I was also happy that Scully got to have a real emotional arc. Especially in Season 1 and 2, those usually belonged to Mulder, but the cancer arc is first and foremost about her, and the show takes a lot of care to keep her at the center of that story - which I appreciate.

I found the MSR dynamic this season to be fascinating. It’s like they’re in this territory - even before the cancer arc but especially during it - where they’re realizing how much they mean to each other but also how much it could damage them both. They’re closer than ever and yet more at odds than ever. They’ll cling desperately to each other in the face of death but run away from each other in the daylight because they’re afraid of what it means. It’s tragic and less fun than what we’ve seen from them before, but it’s also fascinating.

As always, I do have a few gripes. My biggest is that, while the cancer arc is beautiful and heart-wrenching, I wish they’d explored it a little more. Only Memento Mori, Elegy, and Gethsemane center around it (and Never Again, if you go off of airing order instead of intended order). Maybe Zero Sum too, but that’s about Skinner and kind of its own thing. And I just felt like there was some wasted potential there. Scully was literally DYING and losing control of her life and Mulder was powerless to stop it. There’s so much plot and character potential there that really wasn’t touched on, and it felt like they really only scratched the surface. Of course, part of the fun of this show is that they leave a lot for us fans to do ourselves, but it feels a bit like a wasted opportunity on the show’s part (friends: please be kind and point me to the fanfic now!)

Also, while I love the cancer arc for emotional value, I do have some qualms about yet another major arc about Scully having her bodily autonomy taken away. Why must all of the female protagonist’s arcs have to do with this? (I wrote about it in Season 2 here).

But frustrations aside, I think this is objectively the second-strongest season after Season 3, and subjectively my second-favorite after Season 2. Its overall arc is maybe the most compelling of the show, and the individual episodes (for the most part) are all fantastic.

Speaking of which, let’s get into the individual episodes! Quick disclaimer- because this season took me so long to watch, it’s been quite a while since I watched the earliest episodes. Just something to keep in mind:)

Herrenvolk: Unfortunately, I feel that this was the show’s weakest season opener so far. It’s not bad by any means, but it falls victim to the same gripe I have with many mytharc episodes, which is that it prioritizes plot over character work, and that rarely works for me. On top of that, the plot here was kind of hard to follow, especially Mulder’s half (Scully’s half was easier because she was literally explaining everything like the scientist she is I love her so much). Also they were separated which is never fun. At this point, I sort of feel like the show is just adding more and more elements of the conspiracy without explaining what we already have, and it’s getting to be a lot. I did adore the hospital scenes between Mulder and Scully, though - it’s a vulnerability and openness we rarely get from both of them (and I think it scares the shit out of them both - hence why their dynamic for the next 3 episodes is kind of weird). Anyway I’ll give this one a 7/10

Home: I know opinions on this are mixed, but I really liked it. It was genuinely SO creepy, especially the scene where the Peacocks are beating up the sheriff and their car music plays in the background. I agree with @graciehart who says that Mulder and Scully’s dynamic in here was odd, but I kind of get it. Scully represses a lot of her emotions, and it would make sense that she might not think or talk about motherhood until she sees a distorted version of it, and she can examine it from a more scientific angle. For Mulder’s part, @theswisscheeserag said that this episode was sort of an exploration into Mulder’s privilege, and how he’s a little bit immune to the darkness that lurks behind the small-town American ideal (in part because that ideal is something he never had). All of that is interesting. I also liked Scully really taking the lead on the case, especially when they thought there was an innocent woman in danger. This show has a trend of victimizing women, so it was really nice to see Scully, who’s been a victim of this trend herself, fight against that. Overall I’ll give this a 9/10

Teliko: I am never safe from the ethnic flute, am I?

Plot-wise, this episode was boring. The pacing was slow, Mulder and Scully were fantastic when together, but that wasn’t a lot, and really not much happened the whole time.

But that wasn’t the real problem - the problem is that this is a “cultural episode.” And a bad one. They sort of half-engaged with all of the racial issues, and they said some super out-of pocket stuff that they then didn’t elaborate on, and it almost seemed like they got what they were talking about for a second but then they didn’t and the whole thing was weird but definitely problematic.

When I tell you I have never hated a score more - TRIBAL CHANTING AND DRUMS SHOULD NOT BE USED TO SHOW HOW OMINOUS YOUR VILLAIN IS! DO YOUR PROPER FOLK MUSIC RESEARCH!!

Alas I would love to 100% hate this episode, but I love the climax SO much. This is the first genuine kidnapping loss-of-bodily autonomy role rehearsal that I’ve been begging for since Season 2, and this is my favorite trope, so I devoured it. It’s also SO sweet. I wrote a meta about it. It’s here.

Anyway my love for the climax will bring this episode up to a 6/10 but without the climax it’s like a 3 lol.

Unruhe: Okay. Kind of like Our Town, I have to separate my feelings about this episode from its actual quality. Because in quality alone, this episode is fantastic. The villain is interesting, the tension is palpable, the climax is gut-wrenching, and Mulder and Scully’s dynamic has this fascinating push/pull that’s reminiscent of early seasons but starkly more intense. The way they yell for each other when he’s saving her from the van (trailer? Large vehicle) is haunting, especially for her part, because Scully never screams like that. And the outro of this episode - Scully talking about finally being forced to understand evil and how it can be inside her and come for her while a single tear slides down her face - is my favorite of the whole show.

But it seems I am not recovered from Season 2, and the second I saw violence against women I knew exactly where this was going. I spent the whole episode waiting for the other shoe to drop, and when it did I was more annoyed than anything else. There is one hilarious frame right after Scully wakes up in the trailer where Gillian stares into the camera and looks annoyed af as if to say am I seriously filming this kind of scene again? and I was like same, girl, same. But with the understanding that most of this comes from me and not the episode itself, I’ll still give it a 10/10

The Field Where I Died: I have mixed feelings. I like the idea of past lives here, and the idea that Mulder and Scully were always friends, I love. I know it bothers some people that they weren’t together romantically, but I don’t think they need to have been romantic in past lives in order to be romantic now. I actually really love the idea of the same souls reconnecting in different lives but always in different ways (I’m thinking of the musical Ghost Quartet if anyone here knows it). I also love the concept of Scully always dying before Mulder in past lives - it adds another layer to the tragedy.

But also this episode feels like it’s missing something, and introducing a one-off character to be in the reincarnation cycle was kind of weird, and even though I think the concepts are cool, I just can’t quite love it. I’ll give it a 7.5/10

Sanguinarium: Finally a short episode review! This one was spooky and fun! Nothing in particular to love or hate about it, just a really creepy good time. A good episode for spooky season. 7.5/10

Musings of a Cigarette Smoking Man: Naturally, I missed Mulder and Scully during this, but I thought it was really interesting! I’d much rather take a tour of CSM’s past than see another meeting with the high school board of trustees shady government organization of white men that I don’t care about. I also love that he’s an aspiring author and that he sucks at it - he’s kind of a bad bad guy too if you think about it. My favorite thing about this is that it wasn’t a tragic backstory and that he wasn’t redeemed! A tragic villain who redeems himself is great, but it’s also great to let your villains just suck. 8/10

Tunguska/Terma: Okay Mulder/Krycek shippers, I may not live on your planet, but I now see the roots from which you sprung. Their dynamic in these was actually wild.

This was overall an excellent two-parter! It focused more on character tension than alien plot, which I feel is always better. I liked the juxtaposition of very different high-stakes scenarios for Mulder and Scully - the Russian gulag and Scully being held in contempt of Congress, and kind of the implications that all corrupt governments are the same with that parallel - all good stuff! Although, for being hyped up as inescapable, Mulder sure got out of that prison camp real fast. Also…Mulder being injected with the black stuff is a HELL of a plot point to never touch again, but it is in character for the show. But TELL ME why there are no post-ep fics for this! There’s so much angst potential! Anyway 9.5/10

Paper Hearts: *cries*

See this is what Oubliette could have been if it had properly utilized Mulder and Scully’s dynamic, because Mulder’s search for Samantha is him making all the wrong choices, knowing they’re wrong but always digging in the dirt anyway, and Scully seeing the inevitability of Mulder’s downfall but standing there and letting him hold onto her after he breaks, coming back again and again because he always needs her and she’ll always follow him.

I do think the climax was a bit underwhelming given the emotional weight of the episode. I think Mulder maybe figured the killer (forget his name) out too early. But the post-climax scene is, of course, phenomenal, as is this episode overall. Point me to the fics for this one too! 10/10

El Mundo Gira: And this time the ethnic flute is accompanied by a vaguely Spanish guitar! And a boring plot! And some actors who are supposed to be native Spanish speakers who are very obviously not! 2/10

Never Again: Yes, I did watch this before Leonard Betts, and I’m glad I did, because I think it’s more interesting to look at Scully’s actions through a lens of her reaching breaking point than as a trauma response. I know this is controversial- the wonderful @mulders-too-large-shirt and @thursdayinspace aren’t the biggest fans, but I’m going to have to disagree and say I adored this one. Scully episodes are always treats for me, and this one was no exception. I know that people don’t like the implication that she sees Mulder as a disapproving authority figure, but I saw that as more of a manifestation of her fears than anything else. Scully will always crave the approval of those she loves, no matter how much they show her that she doesn’t have to earn it, she will try, and especially with Mulder, who can be a bit oblivious, the extent to which he values her can go unnoticed, and she’s left feeling like she’s bending over backwards for nothing. She doesn’t feel this way all the time, but here that feeling reaches a peak for her, and she gets these desires to break the mold and do something else and just try everything she never tried before. And as someone who also has a good girl identity, this really resonated with me.

The ending is also killer. Mulder wanting to say it’s become mine but he can’t finish the sentence…especially knowing what’s coming for them…GOD. This is in fact a 10/10 for me.

Leonard Betts: I mean, this is really just cancer arc setup. All of that, and the last few scenes with Scully, are fantastic. Individually, this is pretty good! Nothing to really complain about. 8/10

Memento Mori: *cries* I seem to be doing that a lot this season.

What a fantastic introduction to the cancer arc. I adore that this episode starts with Scully’s narration, to really emphasize how this is her story, and she will be taking center stage. I love how this episode showed Scully and Mulder’s reaction to her disease, and really dove into their psyches in a way they really wouldn’t again. It’s Scully’s desire to maintain her strength, to keep going, to just accept it and keep working as she does so many things. It’s the way the fear of death hangs over her, and she accepts it with open arms because it would almost be more vulnerable to fight it, but Mulder fights it because there’s nothing he fears more than losing her, and yet when she calls him he’s there in an instant, because he’ll give up every answer to be with her. It’s One Breath all over again.

And of course, the hallway scene. Gillian Anderson the actor you are. They both look at each other with so much care and grief and tragedy and love, and it’s fantastic. Though this is not the show’s first forehead kiss (there was a blink and you’ll miss it one in Irresistible) it was the first noticeable one, and it’s so tender but also heartbreaking. I was sobbing in my dorm room. 10/10

Kaddish: I did enjoy the parallel to Mulder not wanting to let go of Scully. And I loved the score, which actually drew on elements from Yiddish folk music (Yiddish is a very prominent folk music for Eastern European Jews). Makes me wonder why they couldn’t do that for the non-white “cultural episodes.”

They seemed to be a bit more clear on the messaging regarding antisemitism than they are when they’re dealing with non-white cultures, but it still felt a bit muddled to me, what with the villain being one of the Jewish people (sort of). I’ll give this a 7/10

Unrequited: What’s that? There was an episode? I must have fallen asleep. 3/10

Tempus Fugit/Max: My lovely friend @california-112 loves these - alas I must disagree. These fall victim to the “too much plot, not enough character stuff” thing that I don’t like. I want to emphasize that this is a subjective taste thing for me, but it does impact my viewing experience nonetheless. I was just annoyed that there was a big mytharc two-parter and Scully was LITERALLY DYING OF CANCER and it wasn’t about that. It felt like that whole plot was just sitting there, wanting to be used, and it wasn’t. And while the plot with Max was nice, it seemed like an awful lot of significance to give a one-off character. If he had been recurring, I might have liked this more.

But I did, of course, love the birthday bookend scenes. He finally celebrates her birthday because he thinks he may never get to again😭😭😭 And her explanation at the end. I love them❤️ Overall these two are a 7.5/10

Synchrony: I actually really liked this one! Maybe it’s because I’m a physics girlie but I liked the time travel elements of the whole thing, and I thought the continually unraveling mystery was really cool. I guessed some of the plot twists for sure, but not all of them! Also Mulder literally quoted Scully’s thesis at her, which was especially fun because, as a physics student, I now know what the Twin Paradox is. Anyway this was an 8/10 for me.

Small Potatoes: I need David Duchovny to star in a comedy immediately. This episode gave us some much needed levity in a pretty gloomy season. All of the jokes landed for me, and I love how pathetic of a villain Eddie is…and that’s exactly why he’s dangerous. I also love every second of body-swapped Mulder and the way the show takes the opportunity to make fun of itself. “Where do I sleep?” might be my favorite joke in the whole show.

I also like that this episode has layers, and kind of gets sadder the more you think about it. Read what I wrote on that here.

All that being said, I do agree with @california-112 that this episode falls into the trap of belittling women who were victims of SA, and I do think that that’s generally icky and a problem. With that in mind, I’ll give this episode a 10/10 for my personal enjoyment but an objective 8/10.

Zero Sum: Another Skinner episode! I do feel like Avatar gave us more insight into his character than this, but I still thought this was intriguing. I thought the push-pull between Mulder and Skinner was entertaining, and the thought that Skinner was willing to go to such lengths while Scully was sick is an interesting one - but most of this episode escaped my memory and I did watch it fairly recently, which I think is telling. So 6/10

Elegy: *cries* Scullyyyyyy

First of all, the ghost makeup in here? Terrifying. It got me. And I’m not easily spooked by this show.

But I loved Scully’s reaction to this. Her in therapy, only admitting how much she needs Mulder when she knows he can’t hear it, because she’s still fighting those same battles with her emotional walls and her self-image. Her refusal to believe in what was happening to her because of science, but also because she doesn’t want to admit that she’s dying and that things aren’t normal and they can’t be normal and they can’t go on. I also don’t know if this is the episode where she finds out her cancer has metastasized (what we learn in Gethsemane), but her final argument with Mulder hits so much harder if you think it is. I know what you’re afraid of, because I’m afraid of the same thing…and what that really is is being apart. And the final shots of her in the car…this season has so much Scully crying and I hate it but I love it. 9.5/10

Demons: Dare I say…tied with Irresistible for new favorite episode? I’ve already made a meta about this, so you know I adored it. Plus it takes place in my hometown which is awesome!

All jokes aside, this episode was so sad but so wonderful. Mulder feeling like his life is spinning away from him and he can’t save anyone, taking desperate measures to find answers, and just being fully swallowed by his self-hatred, willing to go further than he ever has because there’s no hope left.

And Scully, who is his beacon of hope, following him and believing in him when no one else does. She stays until the case is solved and she puts every single piece together herself because she has to. She follows him into the house and stares down the barrel of his gun because she will never fear him, no matter how far he goes, and he will run endlessly into the darkness chasing the truth, and she will run just as far to pull him back.

God. He’s so broken and she’s so devoted to him and this episode showed both things in spades. It was beautiful (and, on a more self-indulgent note, played into all of my favorite tropes. It felt like an upgraded version of one of my fanfics). Obvious 10/10

Gethsemane: Like Talitha Cumi, this is more of a precursor to Redux than a finale in itself, but it’s still a really good episode. High stakes all around! This really digs deep into the question of is it aliens or the government or both, and that’s an ambiguity I’ve always loved, so it was nice to see it back. Scully saying her cancer had metastasized absolutely killed me, but what really got me was the ending. Holy shit! 9.5/10

I think this may be my longest review so far, which is fitting for Season 4! Please feel free to tell me your thoughts on these episodes or the season as a whole, or to send me asks about TXF or anything at all! There’s truly nothing I love more than fangirling with all of you! I’ve had such a stressful few weeks with college, and you’ve all been so kind to me, sending me asks and commenting on my writing and chatting with me, and it’s just meant the world to me, so thank you❤️

On another note, my birthday is coming up in a few weeks, and I’d love to make something special for it, so if any of y’all have ideas, please let me know:)

Until next time!

[seakicker]

MS JUJU omg, just Childe casually going “dude you don’t remember? That’s the chick who we fucked stupid and spit roasted in college” and Diluc going “ah.” You’re so big brained, driving me crazy

i guarantee childe would make some comment about how women, just like wine, only get better with age before looking to diluc for further support— maybe the latter would be able to comment on the validity of childe’s statement if he weren’t currently occupied simultaneously reliving that night in college over 25 years ago and processing the fact that you’re standing here right in front of him. of course you were sexy then in your tiny little club dress your sorority friend surely picked out for you and your hair styled a way neither of them had seen on you before, but the you that stands before childe and diluc right here, right now with an additional 25 years of life under her belt? maybe childe actually knows what he’s talking about for once when he says soft, mature women are a lot more beautiful than flustered and inexperienced college girls.

neither of them have seen you in the 25 years following that drunken one-night stand, but now they both wish they had kept up with you at least a little since graduation and the subsequent emergence into the workforce. your soft body and widened hips certainly suggest you’ve had children and created a family of your own, but the absence of a ring on your left hand makes them wonder if a husband is in the picture at all— not that it would make a difference to the three of you. diluc’s the most likely to have reservations about fucking a married woman, but childe wouldn’t miss a beat in pointing out that you being taken certainly didn’t stop the two of them 25 years ago. hell, given the opportunity, the two of them probably would have fucked you right in front of whatever boyfriend you had then and they’d certainly do it in front of whatever boyfriend or husband you have now. you deserve real men (emphasis on the plural ‘men’— don’t gorgeous MILFs like you deserve to get spoiled by multiple cocks at once?), they figure, and any guy who’d let you run off to a bar alone like this clearly doesn’t seem to mind sharing. childe and diluc are exceptional at sharing, so it all works out, doesn’t it?