#so there were like six people walking around the entire neighborhood

[wish-i-were-heather]

so. uh. tonight was interesting.

[severinageto]

TOXIC (and I love what you do) PART ONE

July, 2009

Satoru knew that some of the Japanese earthquakes, most of them and the strongest ones, were caused by the movement of the Pacific plates. But he also knew that others, generally those under six on the Richter scale, were the fault of Namazu, the giant catfish that lives even deeper than the deepest trench of the Japanese archipelago. A few days ago, Kashima, the god in charge of controlling this immense fish, had escaped. He wasn't very powerful, really, but they couldn't let him abandon his guardian duties. Namazu had been very restless lately, and the people didn’t need to keep reliving that over and over.

That's why, when the academy received the request for help from the Sendai municipality and despite any second-rate sorcerer being able to handle it, Gojo didn’t think twice. He liked the city and something inside him said that the sea air would do him good. Plus, they sold his favorite sweets there.

For Satoru, exorcizing it was a piece of cake. The hard part was finding it. On the first day, he searched almost the entire coast, without success. It shook three times. On the second day, in the residential neighborhoods. Six small tremors, but no trace of the god. On the third day, he decided to leave the city, heading more towards the countryside. There, at the entrance of one of the forests, he found an old man around 70 years old who emanated enough cursed energy to be a Window.

He wasn’t wrong. The old man recognized him immediately.

“Gojo Satoru?!” the old man shouted from afar. “They did well to send you! Come closer, please!”

Gojo huffed and approached as slowly as his long legs would allow. He hated interactions with locals who acted like fans. Almost two meters from the old man, it shook. Satoru stopped and waited for it to stop. He walked again. Another tremor. And so on, until he got close enough to have a conversation.

“What’s going on, old man? How’s the cursed energy around here?”

The old man, shocked by Satoru’s lack of respect, could only point towards the forest.

“Is it there?”

The man nodded.

“Oki doki, old man. Thanks a lot,” the albino said, smiling cheerfully. However, the smile vanished once he set foot in the forest; he felt a cursed energy that was, to say the least, familiar.

That cursed energy. That damn cursed energy.

“No, impossible,” he thought, waving his hands to dispel the images that had come to his mind. He ventured into the forest and, even though he stopped feeling it, the nervousness didn’t leave him.

After walking about four kilometers, he found an abandoned house and, like a lightning bolt, a terribly familiar smell hit him. “Oh, shit. It’s his trail. No doubt about it.” He turned his head in all directions, his face contorting into an almost terrified grimace. “No. It’s not just the trail. It’s…”

He looked at the roof of the house and saw him. Suguru dressed completely in black, hands in his pockets, and hair fully tied up. He watched him, cold, almost impassive, and handsome. As handsome as the last time.

Satoru swallowed hard.

“What are you doing here, Geto?”

Three days ago, Suguru had captured the god in charge of the mischievous underwater fish with the sole purpose of extorting the Sendai municipality. However, when his contacts warned him that someone from Jujutsu Tech had been sent, Geto thought it would be fun to stick around. Nanami? Shoko? Which of his old colleagues would be the lucky one to have a session with him?

Never in his damn life did he imagine it would be Satoru. This was beneath his level. And no, it couldn't be just for that reason. Could it? He found himself smiling as he felt his cursed energy, the moment Satoru entered the forest. Yep, it was definitely for the sweets.

“I was waiting for you, Gojo,” he lied with a wicked smile.

Satoru felt like throwing up. “What is this? How could I be so stupid?” he thought, distressed. He looked at Suguru, who was still smiling at him, and felt a rage he couldn't remember ever feeling. He clenched his fists, trying to stay cool. “No, I won't react. I have to look calm. It has to look like I don't give a damn.”

Suguru jumped down to his level.

“Long time no see!” he said, waving.

He looked at him more closely and, realizing his eyes were covered, stopped smiling. He didn't like it when he covered his eyes. In his opinion, it made him look weak. And he hated seeing Satoru weak.

“You've changed. I see you went with the bandages.”

“You look the same,” the albino said apathetically. He was trying his best not to breathe heavily, but the rage kept building. Of course Suguru looked the same. Just like all the times Gojo had caught him spying, at the same station as always. Did he really think he didn't notice?

Geto, on the other hand, was expecting a different reaction from the albino. He knew he had seen him those times. He did it on purpose. “I guess this is the game he chose today,” the curse manipulator thought.

He smiled at him again, this time sweetly.

“Ha, maybe freedom suits me. Doesn’t it suit you, Gojo?” Suguru had started circling him slowly, scrutinizing every detail of his long body. “Hmm… Maybe not.”

Gojo breathed slowly. Who was this idiot? His gaze, his movements, even his voice seemed like they belonged to someone else. “Obviously. This isn’t him. It’s Geto Sama. A cruel murderer. A son of a bitch.”

“Enough with the nonsense,” said the albino, moving away from Suguru. “What do you want? Or are you going to tell me it’s a coincidence finding you here, old friend?”

Suguru started walking towards him again. “Old friend, Satoru? Would that have been better for you?” he thought, amused.

“A bit of this, a bit of that. Come on, aren’t you going to try to kill me right away? Maybe I woke up wanting to die,” he said, putting his right hand to his forehead in a dramatic gesture.

“Don’t give me that shit.”

“Wow, Gojo. Why so violent? Wasn’t I the monster, the beast?” he asked sarcastically, getting closer and closer to Satoru.

Gojo didn’t know why he wasn’t smashing his face in at that moment. What was he up to? He didn’t believe for a second that he was there ready to die. From what he knew, Geto Sama was everything but a suicidal. He scoffed, remembering the teenage and depressive version of Suguru.

“Or are you still mad at me for that day?” Geto continued, now so close that their noses were almost touching. “When was it? September 2007?” He stretched out his right palm and counted on his fingers, out loud. “Come on, it’s been almost two years! Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”

He said this while still smiling, but now with cruelty. The accumulated rage he felt towards the albino was getting the better of him, and contrary to what his disciplined personality dictated, Suguru gave in to the impulse to torment him, even though he knew that with just one gesture, one small gesture, he’d be turned to dust. And Geto didn’t want to die, especially not at the hands of that idiot Satoru.

Or so he thought. Having him so close, after all that time, was stirring up feelings he thought he’d forgotten and god, what rage. He fixed his purple eyes on him and tried to hit him with his chest, but Gojo activated his technique.

The albino was fed up and confused. Why did his six eyes still think he could trust him? No, it was impossible. He didn’t even know the man standing in front of him.

He remembered that day. The cold, the wind, and the feeling of not knowing his own life. The first time he dissociated and the first time he realized that he was, truly, fragile. Arrogant. Weak. A puppet. All those things had been told to him, between the lines, by the person who was once his entire world, a world that now was leaving and abandoning him.

“Almost two years, yeah. That’s what you stole from me with your madness, you son of a bitch,” he thought, clenching his fist even tighter. He felt a small trickle of blood coming from his hand. He breathed very slowly again and, in a very calm voice, said:

“Don’t flatter yourself, Geto. You were nothing but a whim.”

“God, I’m disgusting,” he thought immediately.

Suguru looked at him indifferently, even though he could visualize, and feel, a silver knife piercing his dark heart. The albino was lying. Obviously. But that didn’t explain how betrayed he felt hearing those words.

“A whim? Wow… makes sense. Is that why you weren’t there when I needed you, Gojo?” he said with his most charming smile. “A year of loneliness, where ironically, I slept with you every night. In theory and to everyone else: the perfect couple. In practice: it was all about you and your path to perfection. In the end, it was all empty words. Do you remember the promises you made? Pff. A whim, of course. A whim of privileged people. Maybe it was my fault for expecting anything, anything at all, from you.”

Gojo knew he couldn’t continue in this dynamic, or he’d lose. Suguru’s words made him realize that he always loved him more than he did. What an unfair mess. Why didn’t he just kill him? Maybe just to see if he could hurt him the same way.

He lowered his bandage and locked his eyes onto his.

"We both said a lot of things that weren’t real, Geto. Probably just because of our age and who knows what else. I thought you were sexy. I wanted to sleep with you. So yeah, I played along with all that stuff you’re talking about. Can you blame me? You obviously know how hot you were, though not so much now."

Geto frowned. He wasn’t expecting that. But Satoru wouldn’t get under his skin. No, Suguru wasn’t as shallow as him. Still, he used all his meditation techniques to breathe calmly because his heart was racing.

"Oh, poor me! The great Gojo Satoru used me as his sex toy! And I... well, I..." He looked him up and down, piercingly. "I know I said I loved you, but it was never really like that, so we’re even."

He smiled mischievously. He knew Gojo had loved him with all his being. Probably still did. But what about him?

"Me? Did I stop loving him? No, that doesn’t matter now", he thought.

Satoru tried to breathe as calmly as possible. His heart had shattered with every word. He could feel there were no pieces left.

"I’m lying, Suguru. But it seems like you’re not", thought.

"So neither of us fell in love, blah, blah. How boring. Whatever. The truth is, you’re here, and I have to kill you. Are you really the suicidal type, Geto? No... you think too highly of yourself. Oh! Actually, you think you can beat me!" he said while covering his eyes again. He smiled. "That’s it! HAHA. You never could. You never will, Geto Suguru," he added mockingly.

Suguru felt humiliated. Defeated. "Touché. Weak spot, Satoru. You’ll see."

"Ha."

“Shit, he got here before me,” Satoru thought, realizing Geto had the spirit of Kashima; a rumble came from the depths of the earth, and a magnitude five quake shook the place.

Suguru looked at him, impassive, while Satoru thought quickly. He couldn’t leave Suguru with a curse of such power, but what could he offer him? Apparently, he didn’t just resent him; he hated him. He opened his mouth to ask him to stop, but didn’t get the chance: a blade passed by his head and cut a bit of his hair. Gojo looked at Suguru, alarmed. “He’s really strong, he won’t beat me, but...”

Suddenly, Suguru called Kashima, and he emerged from the ground with a beautiful and ethereal katana. The tremor stopped.

"Come on, Gojo Satoru. You’re right. We both know I won’t beat you. Not like this, at least. I just wanted to show you that I’m stronger than before. Do you really want to keep wasting time?"

Suguru was still annoyed, not really understanding why he had attacked him. “The bastard managed to get under my skin. All this time and he still does it. I hate him.”

Satoru was really confused. “What the hell is wrong with him? What’s the point of all this?”, he thought.

"So, what’s all this fuss for?" Satoru asked. "I thought maybe you’d want to make me sweat a bit before your end."

Hearing those words, Geto couldn’t help but think of Satoru sweating.

He remembered being on top of him during those hot summer nights when sweat would run down his white hair, and with every thrust, it would wet his face. Suguru would fake disgust, and Satoru would smile at him, lick his face, and then kiss him as tenderly as the heat of the moment allowed. Then he’d go back to thrusting, until the sweat mixed with everything else.

As those moments came to mind, Suguru automatically blushed; Gojo did too when he noticed. Their minds were filled with the same images that had invaded the black-haired guy’s. They stared at each other for a while, both with blank minds. They seemed like teenagers again. Suddenly, Satoru said:

"Uh…when I said sweating, I meant physical exercise, like with your hands—" The albino felt embarrassed. When did the situation take that turn? "Ah, I mean a fight to the death," he added nervously, thinking he was being a complete idiot.

Suguru, on the other hand, felt very irritated, but with himself. Seeing Satoru hesitate like that reminded him of his teenage years, when he had just met him and his clumsy flirting. That feeling of nostalgia not only made him feel unexpectedly tender but also made something stir in his pants. "No. No. NOT NOW, STUPID."

"That’s what you’d like..." Suguru grumbled.

"That stupid thing I said by accident... got you turned on, Suguru. Is that why you’re here?" Gojo thought. He had noticed what was happening to Geto. After all, it had been countless nights and days together. It was about a month after their first time that Satoru’s six eyes could even detect the change in Suguru’s blood pressure when it came to sexual desire.

The albino took a breath and teleported next to Suguru so he could whisper in his ear:

"Well, well. Don’t you remember how well I know you... Suguru?"

Without thinking and intuitively, Gojo moved his hand toward Suguru’s crotch. Geto felt his erection grow even more. However, he grabbed Satoru’s wrist tightly.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he said, pushing him away with disdain.

Gojo’s eyes were wide open and he felt even more confused. "Why did I do that? Ugh, no, I can’t go back to…", thought.

Suguru’s view of summoning the kami again interrupted his thoughts and made him get on guard. However, he noticed that his ex-boyfriend’s expression, besides being angry, seemed strangely melancholic. Satoru waited. He didn’t want to be the first to attack.

However, Suguru put the curse away again. He felt awful. The memory of his teenage years not only brought him that excitement from their passionate days together but also the bitter taste of the time following Riko Amanai’s murder.

"It's ironic that you bring up how well you know me. You perfected your senses to notice when I was turned on. Congrats. You’re right. Thinking about you sweating turned me on. You still turn me on," Suguru said, staring at the ground. "But why couldn’t your eyes see that I needed you? Why didn’t they tell you to come find me? Why didn’t you come looking for me? Five days. I waited for you for five days, in our spot."

"Or maybe you always knew who I really was," Suguru thought. "Can I blame you? Not really. No one knows me like you do. Ugh. I don’t understand what I’m feeling. What a messed-up situation; I need to do something about it. I need to know if it’s real."

Satoru lowered his hands slowly. He didn’t know how to react. He felt sadness, but it was fleeting. Looking at his former lover, he saw cold eyes. Not the ones he loved. Not the ones that really excited him. "He’s playing with you. Stay strong, Satoru. You’re strong", he thought.

"I already told you. It was just sex. I played with you. For a moment, I thought about playing again. But why bother if…"

He stopped when he felt Suguru’s right hand touch him. Suguru had walked over while he was speaking, and the Infinite had automatically deactivated.

Suguru smiled genuinely. Apparently, the albino was also lying.

"Can I touch you just like that? Wow…."

Following his intuition and desire, Suguru gently slid his index finger into the waistband of Gojo’s pants. The albino tried with all his might to fight against what was coming, but it was useless. His mind was blank. He only knew he was rock hard.

"Does your instinct still trust me?" Suguru continued, bringing his face closer to the albino’s. "Or is it…" he whispered, sliding his entire hand into the pants, "…something purely carnal?"

"Suguru…no."

"Shh. Didn’t you want this a minute ago?"

He started masturbating him. Moving closer to his ear, he whispered:

"Don’t you remember how you used to play with me… Satoru?"

He said his name with a moan, just the way he knew he liked. He stopped thinking about the consequences of what he was doing, and like Satoru, only knew he needed to feel that body inside his again and again. He slipped his other hand into the pants and started to caress Satoru’s anus. Gojo was shocked, but he didn’t care. He was frozen. He wanted to fight Geto but couldn’t. He had called him by his name. It was something insignificant, maybe even ridiculous, but it worked like a curse for him. No one else called him that. Not like that. Not as if they cared.

Even so, in that intoxication, Satoru knew there was a chance he was just being used. He tried to think, to ground himself, but damn, it felt so good. It felt like coming home.

"Suguru…" He dug his nails into his shoulder. "…stop."

"Years ago, it was the same," Geto whispered, ignoring Satoru’s plea. "A tiny hint and… just feel me," he added, pressing against him.

Suguru rubbed his erection against Satoru’s and started moving slowly. Yes, just like when he was a fifteen-year-old with hormones raging, he had fallen prey to the innate charms of the Six Eyes bearer. He still couldn’t make himself immune. No, apparently, for Suguru, reaching nirvana was much easier than resisting. "I can’t stay still; it’s been too long; nothing compares to this smell. Oh, Satoru. I’ve missed you," he thought, resting his chin on his shoulder. He touched his chest, and even through the clothes, he could feel his nipples hardening. Slowly, he started to open his mouth near his neck. He stuck out his tongue and ran the tip close to Satoru’s ear. Gently, with his left hand, he pulled up the blindfold.

"Let me look at you, Satoru."

Suguru was about to kiss him, and Gojo knew that as soon as he felt the touch of his lips, he would explode.

“No, no. No. If I come, he’ll have me in his hands. More than I already am,” Satoru thought, confused. The curse user’s words still echoed in his soul. He didn’t believe that the excitement he was showing was real.

As a result, he pulled away violently. Geto looked at him as if he had been told the worst insult in the world.

“STOP, SUGURU! We can’t… No—” He moved away, fixing his pants and blindfold. “Let’s stop this crap. Tell me what you want. Quick. And before anything else, no. I can’t spare your life. It’s not up to me and…”

“Neither do you want to.”

Despite wanting nothing more than to let him live and fuck him every day, away from the sorcerers and their mundane problems, Satoru lied shamelessly:

“Yeah. I don’t want to either.”

Few things had hit Suguru’s ego like those words. His first reaction, like a wounded wild animal, was to kick him in the stomach. Instead of casting a spell, Satoru went straight into hand-to-hand combat with Geto.

They fought intensely. Kicks, punches, and pushes came and went relentlessly. The sound of their blows was all that could be heard, as they didn’t speak a word. Both had their minds blank.

Suddenly, Suguru’s superiority in martial arts became evident. He pinned Gojo to the ground with a hold. Geto saw only red and began to choke him.

Tears started running down the face of the one who had once been his lover. “Come on, move. Ugh, I shouldn’t even have to try. One flash and it’s over for him. But… okay. Maybe it’s time to let go,” the albino thought. “In his hands? Tsk. It’s… whatever. Better him than anyone else.”

Struggling to speak due to the pressure on his vocal cords, he said:

“Okay, do it. I won’t resist you anymore, Suguru.”

As soon as he heard his voice, Geto realized what he was doing. At that moment, he could end the Six Eyes bearer and easily pave the way to his new world. At that moment, all his cult leader's dreams would come true. But at that moment, Gojo Satoru would cease to exist, and with that, any chance of seeing him, touching him, or hearing him say his name.

The question was: Did he really want to live in a world without Satoru?

Surprised to be back to those thoughts, he let go. Satoru gasped for air, recovering and coughing. He was on his knees, looking at the ground, with his back to Suguru.

Geto was also breathing heavily. “Has it really been that long? It feels like it was yesterday. Why the hell can’t I let him go?” he thought. He straightened up and walked over to Gojo. He watched him for a moment. “He doesn’t want to let me go either. I can feel it in my bones.”

He offered his hand to help him up, which Gojo didn’t accept. The albino’s crystal blue eyes fixed on him, still gasping. He was realizing what had just happened. He had handed his life to him, the worst of all sorcerers. To Geto Sama. To Suguru. The love of his life. And he hadn’t taken it. For some reason, he felt offended. He wanted to spit at him. He wanted to hit him. He wanted to grab his silky hair and show him that Gojo Satoru’s life wasn’t a gift someone could afford to disregard like that. He wanted to tear him apart.

Suguru sighed deeply. He had squandered the chance to be the killer of the great Gojo Satoru, and why? Just because he had remembered the corner of his mouth when he smiled? The sparkle in his eyes when he greeted him in the mornings? His unmistakable purple scent? God, how he hated the albino. Maybe he did want to kill him. Maybe. But not before getting tangled up between his legs. He was already there, in a place he knew he couldn’t escape from. No turning back now.

“Damn it. I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t try”, Suguru thought.

“Unless you tell me otherwise right now, I’ll go to your hotel tonight, Satoru.”

Gojo’s expression hardened. “Is this really happening? DID HE REALLY SAY THAT? After what just happened, after the words earlier… he still wants us to fuck? Wow. This guy…” the albino thought, furious. He opened his mouth to tell him off and fill him with insults, but no sound came out.

Suguru waited a few seconds. Not getting a response, he walked away. “Oh well. At least I’ll have material to deal with the others.”

Suddenly, he heard Gojo’s voice:

“Suguru…”

Geto froze. “Wow, I got nervous. Am I a complete idiot?” He nodded, indicating he was listening.

“Room 603.”

Suguru, without turning around, gave him the peace sign. He couldn’t help but smile, a smile that came from the bottom of his soul. “I’m a complete idiot,” he thought as he left.

As Satoru adjusted his blindfold, he also reflected. “Suguru is a complete idiot. But I’m worse.”

—————-

Part two on: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57588175/chapters/146534281

Image by https://x.com/lxzemathena?s=21

[matchadobo]

KÖNIG; someone to come home to

wc: 5859 summary: könig found your cat and bridged the budding relationship between the two of you. warning/s: afab reader, nsfw 🔞 (please read at your own discretion, scars, könig is very shy and has social anxiety, alcohol/liquor

"oh for the love of god why do you keep running away..!" you jogged around your neighborhood, eyes frantically scanning each bush and corner of the street just to find that spotted motherfucker with doe eyes and tiny paws that'd immediately make you forget all the rage you went through while finding her.

you love your cat, she's the light of your life, much more your child. but she has this habit of wandering off during autumn, playing with the fallen leaves in places that were surrounded by many trees. you've traversed the entire neighborhood and you were starting to panic when you couldn't find her. she usually comes back when the sun sets but it's almost past six and she's nowhere in sight.

until you heard a distant purr from that one park you haven't checked since it's mostly occupied by kids so it's unlikely. but you swiftly ran to the park, only to find your cat nestled in someone else's lap. a burly, towering man who cradled her very delicately. he brushed his scarred hands by the head and ears of your cat as she leaned further by his dainty pats.

he then noticed you right away, shot up from his seat like you scared him. you broke into a smile to ease the atmosphere, it kind of freaked you out that he noticed you even though you didn’t so much as make a movement or noise. the man had his face covered with a black cloth of some sort, the only visible features of his face were his vibrant, green eyes. he wore a black shirt that looked way too tight for a man his size, brown denim pants paired with black boots. he backed away slightly when you got closer.

"hey, uh, seems you caught her." your cat jumped off of the man's arms and ran to you, you bent down to catch her. "she's my cat."

the look of clarity was evident in him when he relaxed at your words. "thank god you caught her though, i thought i lost her for a moment." you laughed nervously, hugging your oblivious cat. "i'm name." you started, walking a little closer to him to reduce the tension.

you noticed how he kind of stiffened up but managed to return back your gesture. "k-könig." he responded, thick german accent coating his speech. "sorry for kinda taking your cat." he joked a little.

"oh, don't worry about it!" you laughed, "i think she felt safe with you. cats latch onto people that make them feel comfortable."

you heard a low laugh from beneath his mask, you gave him a look at his green eyes to try and recognize him. "are you...did you just move here?"

"not really, but i'm staying for a bit here. my house is just a block away from this park."

unbeknownst to you, it was taking könig everything to not fold right now. aside from being an extremely socially anxious person, he finds you so incredibly pretty. your demeanor, how you carry yourself towards him, how you smile at him, and most of all how you somehow put him at ease; it's as if it's the first time he really wanted to get to know someone and spend more time with someone even if you two just met. he rarely stays in his house here in austria so he never really knew anyone here, nor was he aware that someone like you lives around here. if he did, he'd actually make an effort to go out regularly.

"staying a bit in here? you travel a lot?" you raised a brow, simultaneously patting your cat's head.

"o-oh yeah, i don't stay in my place much." he laughed nervously, his body language changing. könig doesn't really want to tell anyone about his line of work, much less a woman he's interested in. it's surprising enough that you didn't get scared away by his mask, and most of all how he took your cat. he's afraid he might scare you off and immediately lose you. right off the bat, he wants to take you out for drinks; but his confidence is too low because he thinks  that it wouldn’t go further than that.

but nonetheless! it's been a long time since he felt this kind of rush. musing at you and smiling beneath his mask, his heart ran wild on his chest. your cat was one thing that drew him to you, but your smile and with how your beauty shone with the golden glint of the sky. he somehow managed to hold a conversation with you whilst observing how the colors in your eyes glistened in the sunset and how your hair danced with the breeze and kept it away from your face to give him a better look.

"hey, uh." he garnered all the sprouting confidence you gave him from laughing alongside him with dry jokes and boring stories. you pressed your lips together, muttering a "hm?" as your attention was fully directed at him. he sweated a little before saying, "do you maybe wanna... grab drinks or something? you can bring her if you want." he lightheartedly invited you, laughing a little at that last bit.

your heart thumped in your chest a little too fast; finding this man so cute despite the strange cloth that prevented you from knowing the face behind it and his overwhelmingly huge size. "i think i'm supposed to say that last bit, yeah? i'll bring her if YOU want, könig." you broke into a laugh, hearing his laughter too. "but, of course. i'd be happy to."

you see him perk up a little at your reply. behind that mask, you know that he's smiling from the curve of his eyes.

reaching the nearby pub, a dimly lit place that reeked of liquor and cigarettes. the place was decorated with vintage records, paintings, and trinkets. regulars were playing pool, teenagers were in the far back shoving their tongues down each others' throats, and the old, tired bartender wiping off some cups and bottles. you two sat by the high chairs, secluded in some corner not too far from the bartender.

he ordered a whiskey while you settled for a classic scotch. not too long, you two somehow hit it off for hours: playing with the cat, playing with pool and trash-talking some regulars, getting tipsy and touching each other quite more, playing some old arcade games and destroying each other, and saying things that you two might forget in the morning.

"i'm better at pool than you." he blurted out. "your aim is just hilariously cute." he walked behind you, keenly watching if you'll trip and fall from how you stumble while walking.

"it's the liquor, i'll crush you sober!" you tried talking with no slurring, but miserably failed and evoked a snort from him. he held his alcohol pretty decently, he moved quite wonkily but still managed to walk properly. you however, had too much to drink. what could you say? you could drink a little too much when you're with someone you enjoy!

"right, how do you plan on doing that?" he caught you when you almost tried reaching for your imaginary chair that looked way too vivid in your vision, he had a firm hand on your arm as you sat back down in your previous spot. "can you even get home at this rate?"

"shut up, you're so cocky for someone who won because you're bigger." you mumbled, laying your head down on the table.

"that doesn't make sense, name. accept defeat, yeah?" you grumbled as a response, hearing a chuckle from him.

his phone rang suddenly. könig stood behind you, an arm beside your frame as it rested on the high table before taking his eyes off you and answering his phone. "we've got a mission for you, könig. kortac will be deployed in a week from now, the details will be discussed in hq at the same time. copy?"

"roger."

his heart somewhat sank at the announcement. never had he felt hesitant nor felt his heart waver at an issuing of deployment. he always completed missions one after the other passively. he didn't have anything to miss or look forward to. but when he looked at you, wasted as you almost fell off your seat if it weren't for his arm supporting you from the side, he just felt like he couldn't leave you alone now... or maybe ever?

he gestured for the bartender to bring a pitcher of water. "alright, listen to me. you're gonna drink that until you can walk and think straight, got it?" he tapped at your back placing a glass of water in front of you. you whined, taking the glass from him begrudgingly. "you have a lot of trust for someone you just met, huh."

"why, soldier? gonna do somethin' bad to the citizen you serve for?" you blurted out, chugging the entire glass of water and burping afterward. you saw how his eyes widened and how his shoulders perked up a bit from shock. "yeah, that call earlier proved my suspicions."

"aren't you blacked out drunk?" he looked away, trying to avoid the topic.

"oh please, my head's heavy and i feel like shit. doesn't mean i'm deaf and dumb, big guy." you nudged his shoulder a little. "saw the tag shining when you bent down during pool, lotsa scars for someone ordinary, you rarely live at your house means you get deployed a lot, that sorry excuse for a subtle knife pouch in your pants, and that call earlier." you listed out taking another chug of an entire glass.

"nice catch, know a soldier?" he relaxed a little, watching how you skillfully stuffed all that water down the drain you call your body.

"dated one." you responded, eyeing him whilst drinking.

"so you have a type?" he sounded cheeky, sounding like his face was smugly staring at you. "that why you're all smiley ever since we met, huh?"

you broke into laughter, fanning yourself. thanking god that you can excuse your blushing from the inebriation. "you are acting smitten, soldier. maybe you have it the other way around? no fair your face is hidden though, couldn't see if i got you smiling or something."

"what do you think then, frau?" he leaned fairly close, your knees touching as his gaze traversed your entire face.

"i think my bladder's going to explode, i'll deal with your flirting later." you winked, walking past him to the bathroom. little did you know, you left the big guy giggling stupidly to himself.

you came back and he was patiently waiting for you. "i can walk properly now."

"right, i didn't want to get home all alone when you're all wasted." he stood up too, massively towering over you.

"tch, you're saying too much for a man with a mask." you snubbed, playfully stomping out of the pub.

you two walked home, still talking about useless things and other stories and passing jokes. he held your cat close to his chest while walking, the cat falling asleep in his big grasp. "where's your house again?"

"i can walk there fine, könig. it's okay. you must be tired too, mine’s just a few houses away." you dismissed, a tired smile on your lips.

"ah-ah, i insist. it'd be improper to leave a frau like you walking alone at midnight." he strolled beside you.

"but you're pretty far from here, right?" you looked up at him.

"doesn't matter, it's not far for me." he replied. "getting worried?"

"pft, no." you brushed off, despite the smile on your face. "just don't wanna be a suspect if you were gonna be found dead tomorrow."

after a short exchange of laughter, you reached your house. "well, this is it." you concluded. "i'll be taking MY cat back."

he laughed a little before handing the sleeping feline to you. "i had a really good time, könig. good night." you smiled, musing at the vibrance of his green eyes.

"me too," he waved farewell. "good night." he backed away before finally walking away to where his house was. walking home with a smile on his face, the subtle scent of your perfume on his shirt that was decorated generously with cat fur, and a viciously, fast beating heart. he hadn't felt this kind of high from someone.

the fact that you two may or may not see each other again stayed at the back of your minds. but you two slept it off with a smile, hoping this wasn't the end of it.

that's what you thought, but you hadn't seen him in days. you forgot to get his number and what's worse is you don't know where he lives! there's no way of reaching him now.

you figured that he maybe got deployed or something, maybe that phone call from the night you two were together was it. you sighed in your realization, plopping onto your bed in despair as you reminisce about your fun, little date. slowly accepting that you wouldn't see him again. that he is just another fling or another incident to make you happy temporarily and remind you why you can't settle down with anyone.

that is until your door almost broke down from the force of the knocking down the hall. you opened the door, only to find könig drenched in the rain.

"w-what the fuck?! don't you have an umbrella?! come inside, you idiot!" you panicked, moving over to let him in. the bastard was shivering in the cold so you fetched him a towel before letting him sit on your couch. your cat immediately settled on his lap.

"start talking, könig." you sighed, sitting on the coffee table before him.

suddenly, he pulled the shirt off his head to finally reveal his once covered face. you were about to hand him a glass of water only to accidentally drop it from his gesture. he caught it though, military reflexes.

"thoughts?" he broke into an awkward smile, drinking from the water he caught. he chuckled at the priceless reaction you have. "say something, frau. it's starting to get weird here."

his auburn curls were damp and sat atop his head in a disheveled manner, some of his curls framed the sides of his face down to his jaw. his pale complexion had faint freckles and  prominent scars all over his chiseled face and body where you could see his skin. he had relaxed eyebrows and somewhat sunken eyes, though his bright, green eyes made up for it. his lips were chapped and fairly pink as the natural tint in his cheeks. but what sets his entire face off from the ordinary was the big scar that went from his right temple down to his left jaw that went across his eyebrow, nose, and lips.

"i-if it's scaring you, i c-can cover it-"

"no..!" you impulsively hugged him by his neck, both of you surprised at your actions. "i-it's brave, thank you, könig. that must've taken a lot in you to do."

"just five days of tossing and turning and regretting that i didn't gave you my number." he sarcastically remarked, returning your hug by settling both of his hands across your back.

you laughed a little before pulling away. you then took off your shirt, only in your bra now. you see him pull away immediately, beet red on the face as he averted his gaze from your body. "what the hell are you doing, you idiot! i have something to show you too."

an embarrassed "oh" escaped his lips. he tried to compartmentalize those thoughts and focused on what you were going to say. that's when he noticed the huge scar spanning from your chest down to your abdomen. "it's also my biggest scar from being in the service, i was discharged after i got it."

his eyes widened, "y-you were in the service too?!"

"yeah, that's how i met the one i dated. and how i lost him too." you tried composing yourself and swallowed hardly. "all i'm saying is, we both have these. so... none of that, none of you, is scaring me, könig." you smiled softly, brushing your fingers by his arms that were also rich in scars.

"look i, uh, will be deployed in two days." he broke out, his deep green eyes frantically mirroring his overwhelming feelings. "i was thinking if we could, you know, if you'd want to go somewhere with me to make the most of my leave?"

you teared up from laughing, either from joy or endearment. "you didn't have to be so dramatic and run in the rain about it, though. but yes, let's do that."

a wide smile made its way to his face, the vast amount of scars contrasted the joy he had in his eyes and lips. a putty feeling made his chest tight as he sat face to face with you, your scars and his visible to each other. it's the first time he ever shared something like this with someone. once strangers a few days ago turned into something more because he decided to drag his ass to you and not let his thoughts get the best of him, and he was proud of himself because of that.

you lent him an umbrella and told him to meet up at the airport after packing his stuff. and you carried on with yours too, a sudden trip with him would be a rush you'd never thought you'd experience. you've thrown in some outfits, body essentials, undergarments, and the like to try and take your mind off of him and wipe that lovesick smile on your face. but failed of course.

soon after, you two met at the airport with your suitcases. you waved at him cheerfully, smiling as he got closer. "thought you were gonna stood me up." you joked, nudging him a little. "soldiers are always on time, right? what happened to you?"

"i got lost?"

"save it, let's get our tickets now." he took your suitcases as you made your way to the ticket counter for both of your tickets.you already booked tickets before you packed hours ago so it all went smoothly, soon enough you two made it to paris.

you two had spent an afternoon eating at artisan food markets for lunch, shopping at boutiques (mostly you), taking pictures in museums, and ending the day biking to your hotel. the day was cut short since you two arrived at lunchtime, but you two had planned a lot for the next day.

you two had a problem with the hotel though, "well, we booked a hotel on the same day so... we can't really complain about having only one bed."

"...i'd just sleep on the couch or something. whatever you're comfortable with." he insisted on the elevator, kind eyes looking at you beneath the mask.

"i had fun today, könig." you blurt out, not even thinking you did. your eyes were tired from the nonstop journey from flying to roaming about the lively streets of paris but it all reflected your words.

he stared at you for a while, a smile beneath his mask. he was about to say something when the elevator ding interrupted his thoughts that were already clouded with you.

you insisted on taking a shower first because, god, you felt disgusting and embarrassed sitting next to him while you were this smelly. once you got out, you notice how he doesn't wear the cloth on his head anymore as he waited for you and shimmied through the channels in a language he doesn't understand. he shortly followed after taking a bath, bumping his head by the shower multiple times; you giggled at the sound of his curses and the thumps he made.

the bed was king-sized, so it fits the two of you with enough room for personal space. it wouldn't bother you to sleep with him though as  you feel comfortable with him, knowing that you spent the entire day with him. him taking off the mask when it's only the two of you proved enough for him to trust you, so you could do the same.

könig on the other hand though, was a mess talking about it though. "a-are you sure?"

"100%, it's big enough for the two of us don't you think?" you plopped yourself down the bed, sinking in the sheets. "plus, you're not gonna fit that couch."

he complied awkwardly, not knowing how to position himself nor if he should touch you as he settled on that one spot on his side of the bed. you couldn't sleep while he was being uncomfortable so you sat up and tapped on his shoulder.

"is sleeping with me bothering you?"

he looked over his shoulder, a worried look on his face. "i might crush you or something, or i might touch you inappropriately, or i might-"

"hey." you placed a hand on his arm. "i already told you, könig. i agreed to this. i trust you, okay? you'll be fine." you gave him an assuring smile before telling him good night. you two slept soundly that night, tangled in each other's arms.

the next day, you two went to disneyland and spent the entire day there. going ride to ride, stuffing yourselves with character-themed foods, you and him competing in those booths that have prizes, betting on who will scream first during horror attractions, getting some souvenirs by the shops, and tiring yourselves out from the number of rides in this park. laughing alongside him while enjoying the fun of paris has brought you nothing but that fluttery feeling under your skin and that uncontrollable beat of your heart.

once sunset came, you two ended the day with a boat on one of the canals. an intimate ride where you two didn't notice your intertwined fingers. after buying some bottles of scotch and whiskey, you two made it back to the hotel for the night. he popped the bottles open, drinking from the bottle and sharing it with you.

"so, last day, huh?" you started, downing a sip. the tv in the background faintly dulling the silence.

"you gonna miss me?" he replied with a smile on his face as he winked at you, chewing on some chips you bought.

"hmm, maybe." you shrugged, reaching over for the chips. "it'd suck if we just left it here, though."

"left what here?" he raised a brow. "the mess?" he gestured at the untidy sight of your room.

"are you that dense, könig?" you huffed a frustrated sigh. the puzzled look on his face not faltering, still waiting for clarity from you. "jesus christ, men really are that fucking dumb, huh."

you placed the bottle down, leaned over to him and sat on his lap, placed a hand on his cheek while the other was at the back of his head, and collided lips with him. it went on for a while, you feel him suck in a breath from your actions, making you smile through it.

the kiss got deeper and you wrapped your arms around his neck, his massive hands settled on your waist to hold you as he returned your kiss. the taste of alcohol lulling you closer to him and drunkening the both of you even more.

you pulled away and touched foreheads with him. "so that's what you want, spatzi?" könig remarked, giving the corner of your lips a peck.

"how did that feel?"

"liberating." he replied, "do you maybe wanna..."

"go all the way?" you finished, "thought you'd never ask."

he chuckled before kissing you again, licking your lips, and exploring your mouth. he carried you effortlessly by your bum as he sat by the edge of the bed. only to be pushed down by you as he lied flat and watched you take your clothes off.

you rubbed your core on his clothed crotch, he sucked in a deep breath from the sensation whilst he returned  your kisses. not long after, he was in his boxers and you were only in your bra and underwear. after he discarded the last article of clothing on you and him, he roamed his hands across your body, especially the scar you showed him yesterday. he easily flipped you around and now, he was on top of you.

he leaned down and placed kisses on your chest where the scar began, the middle of your mounds, and down to your stomach where the scar ended. he went back to your face and placed kisses on your cheek then back on your lips, "you sure about this?"

you nodded as his final green light before he dipped down to your sopping crevice. he knelt down on the floor and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed by your thighs before he licked a long trail on your core. you hitched a breath, fisting the sheets as your legs trembled in his grasp. he had a fixed eye on you as he devoured your soaked core, he nibbled on your clit and sucked soundly on your folds while he played with the bundle of nerves on your mounds with his fingers. he took his time with you, he didn’t stop until your legs shook and stuttered as you reach your climax.

he soon came back to you, kissing you once more. your hand trailed down his toned torso, down to his firm length; you felt him shiver a bit at your touch as his lips stuttered on you. you smiled through the kiss and maneuvered him despite his size as you got on top of him. 

you soon admired the beauty of this man, as he lay bare before you. you notice him becoming self-conscious  as you stared at him for a long time that you hadn't realized that you were doing it for too long. "hey, don't get shy with me now. you know why i like staring at you so much?"

"why?" he shyly answered, hands awkwardly placed on your hips.

"because i like you, i like looking at you. i'm savoring the fact that your mask is off, that you're able to trust me with this. it must've been hard for you but you still agreed with me, right?" you said with a smile, a hand on his cheek as he leaned on your touch. 

you began peppering hickeys on his neck, across his chest and abdomen. kissing all of his scars across his chiseled body. until you reach his prodigious length, he grew shy as you wrapped your hands around it. you licked the tip, circling your tongue around it to get him going. until you gobbled him whole, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he threw his head back at the warmth of your mouth. simultaneously pumping his length whilst bobbing your head gave him the pleasure that penetrated every muscle in his body. beneath his abdomen, a ticklish feeling bubbling up that left his member twitching  in your throat. not long after, his sweet release shot ropes down your throat. 

as he unsurely positioned himself on you, he took a while to gaze at you and the comparable size of his length. he placed both of his arms to support his weight by your sides, lowering himself down to give you a peck on the cheek. “tell me if it hurts.” he assured with a smile before wedging his thick length down you. 

he pressed his forehead to yours as he slid in slowly, both of you hitching a breath at the first stretch of your tight cunt. the warm and teeming feel of how your walls tightly enveloped him as he slid further until the head of his length reached your cervix; you squealed at the sensation, he chuckled while tucking a hair in your ear. as he tried and started moving, trying to detect if he’s hurting you in any way while he’s balls deep in you. but the only thing he saw was how you shut your eyes tight and how carnal, melodious moans left your agape mouth. he took it as an opportunity to buck his hips back and forth, sliding his length to your entrance back to the end of where he first settled, his dog tag clinking by its chains in chorus with his filthy movements. 

it was pure fucking bliss to you, it’s like you’re high on some sort of drug. the overwhelming length of him and how he was panting just as heavy as you are from the unparalleled sensation you two are in right now. you pulled him by his dog tag and he met your lips, swallowing all your moans as hips simultaneously tried finding the rhythm you two are comfortable in. 

once you two pulled away, he gazed at how his length disappeared from your crevice from time to time then back at your face which was flushed red. he planted hickeys on your shoulder, playing with your mounds with his tongue, and left handprints on your rear. 

lost in the same ecstasy; you kept grazing your nails across his back with each sinful thrust, biting on his neck with each moan of your name that left his mouth, and clawing at his chest with how good he fills you up. it almost felt like time wasn’t running and you two didn’t care how loud you two are nor how feral the creaking of the bed sounded. 

soon after, you were now on top of him. you bounced on his lap slowly, it’s a rhythm you two got used to. his hands were settled on your waist while the other was on your rear, helping you keep up the motion. your hands were caressing one side of his cheek while the other rested on his chest to support yourself. you bent down where you can press foreheads with him once more as your hips moved up and down, gradually sliding up and down on his length in a manner that drove both of you crazy. you two exchanged breaths and moans at the turmoil of pleasure that lulled both of you to a drunken state of each other, no talking was needed as you both looked deeply into each other’s eyes with much fervor. beads of sweat started budding on the surface of your skin at your nonstop intercourse. 

“you’re sweating, schatz.” he whispered, grinning afterward when he wiped the beads of sweat on your forehead with the back of his hand.

“you’re one to talk, you’re panting like an animal in heat.” you returned, hoisting yourself up as you steadily sat on his length. “want to take a break, colonel?” you cockily raised a brow, hands roaming on the span of his chest.

“you’re just pushing it now, huh.” he sat up too, getting a firm hold of your waist. “that’s lieutenant colonel to you, major.” 

his swift moments almost made you stumble and fall if it weren’t for the large hands that supported you. “ready?” he whispered in your ear and before you could answer, he rammed into you so fast you couldn’t even so much as choke a word. your chest is on the verge of exploding from the unruly pace of his hips as he drilled deep in you. it went on for a while, crude moans that got your neighbors turning their heads and almost disturbing the both of you; it’s not like you’d stop for them though. you later ran out of breath and your body got limp from the overstimulation of his length.

you two just lay in the bed afterward. you were between his legs and he was behind you, rubbing your stomach gently while placing kisses on your neck. “didn’t know you were gonna give up that fast, name.”

you elbowed him as a response, “alright, i know i got too excited. not my fault you got too sexy. i had to do something, liebling.”

there was silence after a little laughter from the both of you, it then occurred to you his inevitable departure would not be too long from now. “hey, what time are you leaving?”

“they’d need me before the day ends.” he cleared his throat, a weighing feeling went back on his chest. “this is the first time i felt like i’d wanna bail on a mission.” he chuckled dryly, gazing at the peeking sun of dawn by the large windows of your hotel.

“we should probably get going now, don’t wanna miss our flight-” you planned on leaving his grasp to stand up and get ready, only to get pulled closer. 

“we can stay for a little more.” he mumbled. “please, mein liebe.” he buried his face deeper at the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent more until he grew tired of it. 

you smiled, complying with his request and staying like that for over half an hour. eventually, you two had to fly back to austria and make it to his headquarters there. it was an inevitable parting between the two of you. it’s not like this feeling is new to you, you knew very well what happens when dating a soldier. you became one and dated one. but this one was extra fucking sadder, you don’t know why but now that you saw what’s beneath that mask and mountain of clothes—you’d never want to let him go, you just had to protect him and give him all the love he deserves. 

you two now parked before the building of his headquarters. after saying bye to your cat, he finally dreaded saying goodbye to you. “come on, könig. it’s not like we’ll never see each other again. you’re not about to let yourself get killed, hm?” you lightheartedly tried calming him down. 

he didn’t say anything and hugged you, pulling you by your neck with one arm while the other held you close by the small of your waist. “i promise to come back, vögelchen. you keep yourself safe here, you got it?” he pulled away, a gentle hand on your cheek. 

“you’ve got some nerve ordering someone who ranked higher than you.” you hit him on the chest playfully. “i’ll keep my promise if you keep yours.” you fished out something in your pocket, it was your old dog tag and handed it to him. “okay?” you searched for any affirmations in his green eyes.

he plucked out his own dog tag from his neck and gave it to you instead, he wore what you gave him. “copy.” amidst the cloth, you can see the tears in his eyes form and cascade down his face. you gave him one last tight hug, got under his mask, and gave him a long, deep kiss before sending him off. he waved goodbye one last time before disappearing into the building. 

“so you found someone, huh?” horangi greeted him by the entrance. 

“quit the snooping and let’s get to the conference room, i’d like to make this shit quick.”

this is my first time writing for könig and cod, forgive my sins my senpais 😭🌷

[isaacswhy]

boy next door

isaacwhy x gn!reader (sfw) summary: you grew up admiring the boy next door, isaac. on the night of your graduation from high school, you confess your feelings. requested?: no

It started when you were six. You were living place-to-place for a while, given that your dad was an a military man, but he finally got a permanent position in Pennsylvania. It wasn't the best place to live, but you were in a good neighborhood, and you were six. Your parents had bought a beautiful house with two floors, and you personally picked the room on the top floor with a window that peered pretty much entirely into the house next to you. Little did you know, the boy in the room across the fence would change your life.

You met the next day when you enrolled in first grade and your teacher introduced you to the class. She was nice enough to not make you talk about yourself in front of everybody and assigned you to sit next to one of her nicest kids in the class, Isaac. You were pretty nervous when you walked over and sat down next to him, but you quickly learned he was as friendly as your teacher said and more.

That was the start of the friendship between you and Isaac. You began hanging out after school almost every day, and his parents became like your own, and yours to him. As you grew up, the two of you would tackle everything life threw at you. Everything that scared you was shared and you comforted each other through the hard things. Even in the weird times that came with puberty, there were no secrets between you and Isaac. Until there were.

It was around fourteen when you caught onto what you were feeling. Isaac had begun maturing and he was getting tall, and every time you were around him you noticed your heart started to beat faster than normal and your stomach turned constantly. The intense reactions you were having when around him subsided somewhat with time, but they never went away. It took a while, but you figured it out: you had a crush on Isaac.

It freaked you out, to say the least. You'd known each other for eight years and you were terrified at the prospect of making things complicated. You'd sit at your bedroom window and catch yourself staring at the window across from you at the boy that you had grown up with. His bright smile and his caring outlook on life just made you like him more, but you knew deep down you couldn't ever get yourself to say anything to him.

Four years later, you were still head over heels for him. It was a long four years, watching him get in and out of relationships with people you were far too jealous of. He excelled in his classes and you saw how promising his future looked. On top of your fear of confessing, the fear of Isaac leaving you behind for a good life worried you even more. With each passing semester of school, your anxieties were boiling up further and further.

Then, graduation came. You walked the stage alongside Isaac. You briefly mingled with families, but the two of you decided to do an old tradition of climbing to the roof and watching the stars at the end of the school year. So, there you sat. He chattered away about how he was so excited to go off to college and making his life into something he was proud of. You loved to see him talk, but you just couldn't get everything off of your conscious long enough to listen.

"Isaac."

He turned to you, letting out a light laugh. "Oh, sorry. I was really going on there."

"No, it's not that. No worries." You looked down at the roofing below you, "I've just got a lot on my mind."

"Oh, anything you want to share?"

"Yes, but-" You sighed, "It's hard to explain, and it's fucking scary."

"Listen, I'm here for you, always." Isaac reached over and put a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it lightly. "Tell me when you're ready."

"First thing's first, I'm so scared. Scared that even if we're at college together, you're going to forget about me. Studies might keep you too much, and I'll just get in the way. Once college's over, you'll want to move away and get rich, no time for me."

Isaac laughed. "Seriously? Y/N, you know damn well I'd never let you out of my sight long enough to leave the city. If I have any say in it, the two of us will die in a joint grave."

Your heart fluttered and tears pricked at your eyes. "God, Isaac.."

"Oh shit, I'm sorry. Did I overstep? That was probably too much, listen-"

"I'm in love with you, Isaac."

As soon as the words left your mouth, the silence that hung in the air and a block of regret dropped in your stomach. You looked over to Isaac, who looked utterly shocked. He didn't say anything for a while, and the two of you sat staring at the tiles below you.

"Come on, Isaac. Say something. Please." Your voice quivered, trying your best not to cry.

Isaac ran a hand through his hair. "I'm just.. surprised. Definitely not what I expected, you know?"

"I get it. I've just been holding that in for fucking ages, I couldn't hide it from you anymore. I'm really sorry if this ruins things."

"No, it doesn't."

You paused. "What do you mean?"

"I think.. I love you too."

You looked over to Isaac, who now had the kindest smile on his face you've ever seen. Your heart melted in that moment, relief flushing through you like a tidal wave.

"Holy shit."

Isaac scooted closer to you and you leaned in, pulling him into a soft kiss. Your lips touched and you thought that you could die happy in that moment. It wasn't very long, but you pulled away and saw the man you loved staring back at you with a look you'd never seen before.

"I've liked you for a while now, I think. I was too scared to say anything, and life got hectic, so I rolled with it. I thought it would take my mind off the worry that I'd scare you off and you wouldn't want to be my roommate in college anymore." Isaac confided.

"No, I get it. I thought if I told you, you'd get all awkward and closed off. But I couldn't hold it in me anymore."

Your hands locked and you put your head on his shoulder, and his head leaned on yours.

"I love you, Isaac."

"I love you, too."

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires - Part 14

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 696

Masterlist

My Joe is kind of like Netflix!Joe and also like Book!Joe, who kills people and then goes "So anyway..."

I thought you'd notice how distracted I am, considering the amount of time we've been spending together.

But no, you are fighting with your grandparents and your mother isn't answering your calls and you don't want to talk about it so I am giving you your space. It's that easy.

You are thankful. You promise you'll make it up to me later.

You don't have to make anything up to me, (Y/n). You are giving me the time I need to rid the world of a pest.

It's surprisingly easy to get Jasper alone. His polygamous relationship is unfulfilling (shocking), so he spends most of his free time running around New York with his ‘friends’, who probably wouldn't notice if I walked up and stabbed him right in front of them. His evenings consist of getting drunk at shady bars and buying drugs from shady people. It only costs me three days to figure out his entire pattern.

How this man manages to be so put-together at work every day is one of life's great mysteries.

On day four, I spend the early afternoon at a thrift shop. I buy a tracksuit that looks sufficiently used and a baseball cap that looks sufficiently new. At the end of the work day, I wait around outside your office (making sure you don't see me when you leave) for Jasper to come out.

And then I follow him.

Jasper doesn't drive. He's the kind of asshole who takes the train because he thinks it makes him look down to earth. Good thing for me, because it makes it so much easier to stay on his tail.

First, he goes home, but he only stays there for an hour. Just long enough to appease his wife. Then, he leaves again.

Tonight's shady bar is actually near your apartment, but I don't think Jasper knows that. All he knows is this is the wrong kind of neighborhood, which means it's the right kind of neighborhood for his purposes.

I really need to get you to keep your windows closed.

Jasper meets three guys outside and they all shout-greet each other and slap each other's shoulders the way these types often do, and then they go inside.

You know how you can tell that I love you, (Y/n)? I spend nearly six hours waiting inside the disgusting alley, leaning against the wall with one leg bent, foot against the brick, like drug dealers in movies do. I've got my cap pulled low over my eyes and I pretend I'm texting frantically. When the wrong people approach me, I glare at them until they walk away.

It's after midnight when Jasper stumbles outside. He is alone. He is either so drunk or so uninterested that he doesn't realize he knows me. He wants cocaine and I tell him I have some.

There's a woman smoking at the mouth of the alley, but her back is to us and it is so easy to lead Jasper around the corner to where there's a dead-end and knock him out. There are no cameras here, no doors. There is a dumpster, but nobody's going to come out and throw anything away until two am, when the bar closes.

Jasper should be grateful. He dies without anyone noticing - including himself. It's easy. Painless.

When they find his body, it will be a drug deal gone wrong and everyone will pretend they never thought something like that would happen to him even though they really did think it would. They were waiting for it. People like Jasper always end up like this in the end.

Nobody will ever think to connect either of us to his death. Why would they? You would never come to a place like this and me? I barely know the guy.

As I leave, I check my phone for texts from you. There are none because you don't know what I just did for you, so you don't know to thank me. But when you find out about Jasper's death, you will pretend to be sad and secretly thank whoever is responsible, which means you will be thanking me anyway.

[coolbeanzeaglbones]

It's 4am, here's a fanfic chapter I had to finish or else I would've forgotten

Ian was still shy around everyone, but was warming up to Ricky, of all people. It was probably because Ricky had been trying so so so very hard to bring a sort of optimism to the place, “Hey, maybe he'll just let us go.” He would say, playfully shoving anyone in vicinity of shoving.

Christian sensed that he was trying to be more optimistic for Ian's sake.

It was on one night when Ricky called a team meeting, “Okay, I want everyone to talk about themselves. Get to really know the team. I'll go first,” he went and stood in the middle of their makeshift meeting, “My name is Ricky Falomir, I used to live in Connecticut before my mom left, then me and my dad moved to Orange County when I was six and I've lived with him ever since.” he finished with a little clap of his hands before sitting back down.

There was a silence before Christian sighed and walked to the middle of the meeting. He began to imitate Ricky's peppy tone, “Hi, my name is Christian Jacobs, I was born and raised in Orange County and then I frickin stolen from the waterpark. See how fun this is? See how much fun I'm having?” Jimmy was trying to suppress laughter, but Ian was full on laughing, “Yes, I do see how much fun you're having, now go on.” Ricky said, his face threatening to break into laughter.

Christian cleared his throat before continuing in a more of his tone of voice, “I have an older sister and three younger brothers. I miss them.” His voice cracked on the last word and he went to sit back down.

Again, silence. Jimmy looked over to Ian, “Do you want to go first?” Ian shook his head, so Jimmy went up. He took the middle ground and began to speak, “Well, I was created by my father as farming equipment…” he was cut off by Ian raising his hand, “Yes?”

“A-are you a r-robot?” Jimmy was genuinely confused by that, “Yeah? What? How…did you not know?” 

“Well, I t-thought you w-were hu-human.” He said, “No, I'm not, anyway, I was created by my father as farming equipment, but I grew to be their son and on the day of the farmers market, someone turned me off and took me here.” he went back to his spot and slapped his knees, “You're up kid.” He said.

Ian did not look like he wanted to talk, but, being polite, stood and walked into the middle, “Hi, m-my n-name is Ian F-fowles and I ha-have an o-older brother…”

“Are you okay? You're stuttering a lot.” It was something he had been doing recently. It had gotten to a really bad point when he was trying to talk about himself.

He eventually just gave up and sat back to where he was before, staring at his hands, “So why do you wear knee braces?” Ricky asked, trying to invite him back into the conversation, “and wrist braces?” 

“Oh, um, I-i don't really re-remember the s-story, but I th-think my d-dad’s side of the f-family w-was cursed a w-while back and…” he was cut off by the unit door opening.

Everyone scrambled to get far away from the door, onto the opposite side of the unit.

It might be just me, Ian thought to himself, but that guy looks definitely bigger.

Chad looked like he had grown a foot taller in just the few hours that they hadn't seen him.

Apparently, it wasn't just him. Ricky had audibly gasped when he came into the unit. Christian flattened both of his arms to his friend's chests to keep them held back. Jimmy's eyes were wide, the slight canary blue that always came from them seemed to be exacerbated by the tense atmosphere.

Chad just sat down, didn't even bother closing the door. He put his head in his knees and just sat there, shaking.

Christian exchanged a glance with Jimmy, before grabbing Ian by the hand and motioning with his head to the door. He seemed to understand, as did Ricky, and they all cautiously moved towards the door.

They were going to all run for it as soon as they got out, screaming for help and hopefully waking up the entire neighborhood.

Christian looked to his younger friends, gave the nod and began to sprint, yelling at the top of his lungs.

A giant arm came out to stop them, hitting Christian and Jimmy in the stomach and hitting Ian in the face. Ricky had managed to duck under the arm and was still screaming, but Chad pulled him right back in, shutting the door.

The kids backed up as a unit against the wall, Ian's nose was bleeding heavily, but he was, surprisingly, not crying.

Ricky let out a whimpering noise and grabbed Ian around the shoulders, pulling him close. Jimmy held Christian's arm as his back hit the padding of the wall.

The only thing going on in Christian's mind was, oh crap, I screwed up and now all of us are going to die.

Chad came closer, his massive form a huge blackout in the darkness. He didn't say anything, he just grabbed Ian and Ricky by their wrists and dragged them to the far corner of the unit.

They both tried to kick at him, Ian was now kind of sobbing and Ricky was cussing Chad out. But it was no use.

Christian knew he had to put his leadership to work. He charged at Chad with a battle yell, jumping and grabbing his shoulders. He tried to put him in a sleeper hold. Chad paid no attention.

There was an odd rack in each corner of the unit and Chad grabbed the filthy red rag from the ground and tied Ricky and Ian up to it by their wrists.

For anyone asking what Jimmy was doing, he was panicking. Like, full blown human panic attack. He was experiencing all of these emotions at once and it was overwhelming.

He crouched down, his head covered by his arms and began to rock back and forth like a crazy person. He was crying, like real tears. They were oil or something, but it was acting like tears.

After Chad was done tying the two up, he grabbed Christian from his neck and held him by his scruff like a little kitten.

He was silent. Christian wanted him to say something, anything! Heck, he wouldn't mind being yelled at! Anything but silence. But Chad just walked over, grabbed Jimmy by his arm and led him over to the other rack, where, as he held them both down with his leg, he tore a piece of his sleeve.

He tied them to the wrack and left. It was silent except for the sounds of everyone trying and failing so hard not to cry.

Christian allowed himself to join in the crying. He didn't know how much longer they all had left to live.

[chronicangel]

I actually think it would be really funny if Gotham had a reputation for being like, a really cool and fun place that you want to go.

Like I know the running gag in fandom (and a little bit in comics, too) is that Gotham is a cesspit, famed for its insane vigilantes and impossibly high rates of violent crime, but when I think about real-life cities with very high crime rates and sort of a smoggy aesthetic, they are often places that people want to go.

Like, New Orleans is in the top ten cities in the world for homicide rates according to the data from 2022 (all the other 10 are in Mexico, and I can't speak as much to them because I've never been, but I at least recognize Tijuana, which is #5, as a place other people seem to refer to as a tourist destination for Americans), and yet there is a very real and very large crowd of people fully devoted to going there every year for Mardi Gras. I know multiple people who fantasize about living in the French Quarter, and when my grandparents took me there once as a teenager, I remember driving around with my grandmother to look at all the old, pretty buildings.

People famously think of New York City as a dangerous city with high crime rates (although the last few years have really reflected those crime rates going down), and yet it is also one top 10 of the most popular cities in not only the US but the world for tourism. My Dad lived in upstate New York from 2021 until this year, and just moved to North Jersey (significantly closer to the city), and for a while, he would rent a hotel in Times Square for a weekend every time I visited. If a band or artist is touring the US, it would practically be a crime to skip NYC, and there are the huge drawing forces of tourist destinations like the Statue of Liberty and Broadway. In fact, I lived halfway across the country from NYC and I still knew people who went on high school field trips there with their theatre programs.

I grew up in a college town in Southwest Missouri, and for most of my young adult life, I must have gone to St. Louis at least a half-dozen times a year. We went on a field trip to Six Flags when I was in 8th grade. I took a mini-vacation there in July 2023 where I paid for an Airbnb for a week and went to the zoo three or four days in a row so I could really take my time with it. I went on a day-trip in May of this year with a friend from work where we walked around the city to the tune of 19,000 steps. And all of that despite the fact that I spent my entire life hearing about the gang violence permeating the city, and the fact that St. Louis was ranked as the most dangerous city in the United States for several years in my lifetime.

I just moved to Philadelphia, which is in the top 50 cities in the world for homicide rates (see the link on New Orleans), because I've been coming here since I was a teenager and it's always been a home away from home to me. And when I went on my first walk around the neighborhood after moving here, I proudly bragged to my friends about how I had only been catcalled five times, two of which were by the same dude (some guy on my block who yelled at me at the beginning and the end of my walk) and one of which was by a child, so statistically that was a pretty good walk.

My point with all of this is that there are lots of very dangerous places in the world that people still idolize and want to go to. Within the lore of DC Comics, Gotham is a city that was first established in the early 17th century, with beautiful Gothic architecture and the Delaware Bay framing its edges. It would also be the largest city in New Jersey by a long shot, and I can imagine that with the real-world affectionate rivalry between New York and Jersey, citizens of the state would loudly defend Gotham as the superior city to NYC, cesspit or no (the same way that Missourians will hold Kansas City over Kansas' head until the end of time, or until they give back what's rightfully ours).

I imagine people from all sorts of places and all walks of life would go on two-week trips to Gotham during summer vacation to see whatever iconic landmarks stuck out to them, or maybe even to try to catch a glimpse of Batman and the other famous vigilantes-- I think if I heard that there was a vigilante in one of the big cities only a few hours away from my hometown, I probably would have been drawn to it like a magnet the second I was old enough to decide where to spend my breaks.

Also, just looking at it realistically, most of Gotham's crime happens at night and in very specific parts of the city-- which is also true of big cities in the real world. So it's extremely likely that a tourist could spend weeks or even months in Gotham and still never be directly subject to the sort of crime that Batman and Robin and whoever else might be there at the time are dealing with. I can easily imagine plenty of folks from Metropolis deciding to take a day trip to Gotham, which is just across the bay and would logically only take a couple hours tops to get to (assuming there's an operational ferry, and why wouldn't there be?), walking around the city looking at gargoyles and trying famous restaurants, and then packing on up and going back to Metropolis to say, "Yeah, people talk a big talk, but I've been to Gotham and it really isn't that scary."

You know, the way we all do with real cities.

[alittlextrathatway]

In a world of boys, he's a gentleman

Let’s do a continuation of another AU.

We only have a lyric here which is absolutely fine because it means I get to pick the location.

And the location I choose is…

A diner.

Here’s some Sylvie’s POV for the football AU I started here.

***

She isn’t sure what to make of Matt Casey.

Having only been out of her borderline emotionally abusive relationship for six months, suspicion of all men is top of mind. She didn’t take the job in Chicago with the hopes of a new dating pool. She simply wanted to be free.

In Indianapolis, Harrison made sure everyone knew her as his ex and saw her as some creature he molded into being. To hear him tell it, her knowledge of sports medicine and her skill in accurately treating her patients the first time was all due to him generously sharing his knowledge with her over the course of six years of pillow talk.

They moved through their education together. Same schools, same programs. She’s just as accredited as Harrison. Everyone who directly works with her believes she knows her shit. Her patients rave about her in a way Harrison’s never speak of him. Yet outside their direct circle she became the personification of political correctness. Her successes and accomplishments were chalked up to a ‘women-in-sports-medicine’ diversity agenda.

As if some powers-that-be committee held a meeting once a week and decided these things.

Leaving her home state was the right decision professionally. She’s confident she made the correct choice.

But confidence in her personal life is a little harder to come by. So, yeah, she’s not sure what to make of the veteran star quarterback and team captain.

Especially when he turns out to be the nicest man on the whole damn planet.

Today is the start of that tour around Chicago he offered to her. He insists on shuttling them around and picking her up, refusing to let her meet him anywhere. And then he starts the day with his favorite little neighborhood diner, owned by one of the other players on the team’s family. She hasn’t met every player yet, but this woman knows Matt and hugs him fiercely the minute he walks in the door.

She shows them to a booth in the back and then pats Matt’s shoulder. “You keep throwing passes to my boy, you hear?”

“I’ll try my best, Mrs. Mills.”

She thought Matt was adorable at The Bodens’ backyard party last week, but turns out that was only the tip of the iceberg.

He blushes lightly at the attention and clears his throat. “That’s Pete Mills’s mom. One of our wide receivers.”

“Ah, okay,” Sylvie says, unable to resist pointing a warm smile at him. “Everyone at this franchise adores you. You know that, right?”

He shrugs, trying to brush it off. “When you’re winning it’s always like that. Wait till we lose a couple of games back to back, then we’ll see how much they love me.”

She shakes her head at him with a chuckle. “I’m not talking about you as a player, Matt. I’m talking about you as a person. Donna gave me the rundown of all the players so I’d know what sort of personalities to prepare for and she would not stop raving about you. Not your record or your stats as a quarterback, but you. The guy under the uniform.” There’s a beat before she realizes how that last line may have sounded and she winces. “Not literally under the uniform—I don’t mean they were talking about you being nak—you know what, I should look at the menu and shut up.”

He laughs softly. She feels his eyes following her movements as she looks away from him and down at the laminated menu in her hands. “No, I get what you mean. And I’m very fortunate. I’ve spent my entire career with one team full of good people who try to make the best decisions that benefit the group as a whole. It’s an actual family around here. We don’t just say that, we live it. So, if you get the sense that these people genuinely care about me then you’re right and the sentiment is completely mutual.”

He’s managed to stir up a lot of yearning emotions in her chest and soothe her humiliation all at the same time. It’s fascinating. “Sounds like a good organization to join.” What will it be like to work with people who don’t make you feel as if you need to be looking over your shoulder all the time? “I’m glad I took the leap then.”

“Me too,” Matt agrees, grinning crookedly at her. “So, I have a few neighborhood places I wanted to show you, but first things first today, is there anything you’ve wanted to see in Chicago that you haven’t gotten around to yet?”

She drops the menu and meets his gaze again. “Really?” Her tone is skeptical, she can’t help it. “You’re sure you wanna ask me that? I might give you a laundry list of cheesy tourist traps.”

“Bring it on.”

“Okay, you say that, but how do I know you’re not gonna keep a log of them to judge me by later?” She asks. She’s teasing him. Matt doesn’t seem like the type, but the joke rings a little too true in regards to her past experiences. Matt’s stare rips through her defenses, straight into her heart, and the joking good humor in her expression deflates. She clears her throat and uses her menu as a buffer again. “Sorry. That wasn’t very funny.”

“I’m gonna guess this ex who tried to torpedo your career didn’t let you enjoy a whole lot of things, huh?” Matt asks in a quiet, calming voice.

She sighs, suddenly tired of Harrison’s influence on her thoughts and actions despite leaving him behind in another state. “Let’s just say he wasn’t a lot of fun at parties.”

Matt snorts. “I can tell. I don’t know anything about him, but I can tell. To answer your question, no I’m not gonna keep a log of touristy things you enjoy so I can give you shit about them later. Only assholes do that. If you want to be a tourist today then I’m right there with you. Have you seen the bean yet?”

“You mean Cloud Gate?” She asks with a sharp smirk.

He rolls his eyes, grinning all the while. “Fuck that Cloud Gate bullshit. It’s the bean.”

Just like that her angst floats away and is replaced by laughter, authentically joyful laughter. “No, I haven’t seen it yet.”

“Alright,” he says, declaratively. “We’ll have breakfast and then we’ll go there first.”

“Great,” she says, rolling her lips to keep her besotted smile at bay. “Sounds like fun.”

They’re only a half hour into the day and already he’s gotten more out of her than anyone had since she made the move. That moment at the party where she got caught up in his attentive stare and spilled her guts about Harrison wasn’t a fluke, it seems. Her mind may have been unsure of him up until now, but her heart trusted him from the jump.

She knows she made the right move professionally, and she’s beginning to believe she’s making the right move personally too. In a world of insecure boys, she found a tried and true gentleman. She doesn’t know what the future holds for them or whether or not what they’re starting to build today will lead to anything, but she’s excited to find out.

[marvel1012]

Sins of the Father - Pt.2 "Donna"

Synopsis: AU 3rd season episode of The Bear. Carm makes a startling discovery, and must navigate the fallout.

Warnings: cursing, drinking, smoking, Donna

Word count: 2,600-ish

Author's note: Please read Part 1 first! Likes, reblogs, and constructive feedback welcome!

Part 3

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

Early the next morning, Carm took the train across town and then walked the few blocks over to their old neighborhood. Standing on the sidewalk outside their mom’s house, staring at the stoop, it was hard not to see that December night from almost six years ago– his mom’s car still half-buried in the front room, getting slowly pulled out by a wrecker, Donna hysterical on the lawn, Mikey trying to calm her down, Lee and Jimmy screaming at each other, the neighbors filtering out from their houses to watch. He blinked hard and the scene was gone– the house looked good as new, like none of it had ever happened. 

He steeled himself with a deep breath, thought about lighting up one more time before going in, just to slow his brain down for a minute, then thought better of it. He needed to get this over with, so he could get back to The Bear and make sure the week’s inventory got done on time. 

Let it rip.

He marched up the front steps and tried the door. Not surprisingly, it was unlocked. Typical. He opened it slowly, sticking his head inside and looking around. “Mom?” 

“Carmen? Is that you?” Donna’s voice sounded like it was coming from the back of the house, a bedroom, probably. 

Stepping inside, Carm shrugged off his coat and hung it on one of the hooks next to the door. He didn’t bother removing his shoes, though– he didn’t think he’d be staying that long. Knowing Donna, this conversation was gonna go over like a ton of lead bricks. As he walked down the photo frame lined hallway, he couldn’t help but glance at a few of the old family group shots. How could he have ever looked at himself next to Mikey and Natalie and believed they came from the same family? Nat may not have been the spitting image of her father, but she sure as hell looked more like him than Carmen ever had. As the photos got older and his siblings got younger, the resemblance to Jerry got even more noticeable. 

He stopped briefly in front of a group picture from when he was still a baby, probably not even walking yet. It must have been Easter or something, because the entire family was dressed up in all their early 90’s glory. Michael was probably around thirteen, Nat was just a toddler in a frilly white dress, Donna was holding her hand and probably coaching her to look into the camera and smile. Carm was being held by Jerry, and staring wide-eyed at something slightly to the right of whoever was taking the photo. His brilliant, bright blue eyes and curly, sandy hair stood out like a sore thumb when you saw them all together. He heard Sam’s sneering voice in his head, “Who did that crazy bitch think she was foolin?” 

“Carmy?” 

When he made it to the bedroom, the first thing he noticed was all the mess. There were open paint cans, drop cloths, brushes, rollers, half-filled trays of paint, and Donna, perched on a step ladder with a metal pole draped across her lap. She had obviously just stopped sanding, because she was covered in a fine layer of dust. As always, she was sipping a glass of her favorite red wine. 

At 9:30 on a Tuesday morning. Christ. 

“Uh, hey Mom. You ah, repainting the bedroom?” 

Donna grinned. “Sure am. I read in one of those house magazines that nobody does the textured look for paint anymore, it’s all gotta be a single color now. First you gotta sand it, then you gotta paint over it. Next week I’m taking down the wallpaper in the bedrooms upstairs! Repainting those too!” She giggled and took another swig. This was most definitely not her first glass of the day. 

“Oh, okay. Ya know, most people hire a bunch of guys for big paint jobs. We could find someone to handle the wallpaper, too. The Bear’s finally doin’ alright and–” 

“No,” Donna snapped, cutting him off. 

Shit, I haven’t even been here five minutes and she’s already mad at me. 

“But, it’s really no trouble. I can even pay for it, that’s what I was tryin’ to say.” 

“I don’t want a bunch of strangers coming into my house, breakin’ things, makin’ a mess, getting paint and God knows what else on my furniture,” she finished off the wine and nearly dropped the glass while sitting it down, apparently oblivious to the mess she had already created. “I know what this is, you think I can’t do it on my own. You think I’m too old, and and frail, and and, old.” 

“No, no, that’s not it Mom, I just wanted to help, is all. I was just trying to be nice, and help you.” 

“Well I don’t need it. I don’t need you doing things for me. I’m capable of doing things for myself. And I can pay for things, too. I don’t need your money.” She was clearly ratcheting up, and then, in half a second, her mood turned on a dime, and where once there was righteous anger, embarrassment had taken its place. Carmen could see the shift when it happened, having spent years trying to gauge and wrangle Donna’s moods. 

“Aww, Carmy, I’m sorry for getting mad,” she pouted, “You were trying to do something sweet for me, and I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m really glad that your restaurant is doing good, I really am.” 

“Thanks Mom,” an awkward pause while he thought of something else to say, to move the conversation away from whatever it was about the painting that had set her off, “Hey, ah, Nat told me she and Pete brought the baby over to visit last weekend, how’d that go?” 

Donna beamed, “It was great, just great. She’s a cute little thing, but looks a little bit too much like Pete, which is going to be unfortunate for a little girl,” she picked up her empty wine glass and gestured toward the hallway, “I need a refill, let’s talk in the kitchen.” 

Carmen followed along behind as she retrieved the open wine bottle from the fridge. Before filling her own glass, she held up the bottle, offering. “Oh, no, I can’t right now. Gotta get back to work in just a little while. Thanks, though.” Donna shrugged with a “suit yourself” smirk and dumped the rest of the bottle into her glass, filling it almost to the rim. She was chatting  excitedly between sips about her “very first grandchild”, how good Nat seemed to be doing as a first time mom, how she couldn’t wait to babysit (if Carm had been drinking, he might have spit his wine out at that idea). 

Since they appeared to have moved back to solid ground, he figured it was now or never. He waited for Donna to take a breath, then cut in. “Hey, so, what I came over to talk to you about. Last night, this guy came by The Bear after we closed. He said his name was Sam Morris.” 

Her head snapped back as if she’d been struck. “What did you just say?” 

“Well, uh, there was this guy, named Sam Morris. He came by the restaurant last night to talk to me. Actually had the nerve to ask me for a job, talked to me like I should know who he is. Should I know who he is, Mom?” 

“I- I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Donna quickly crossed the kitchen to toss the empty bottle into the trash can. “I’ve never heard that name in my life.” She went to the sink and began to furiously scrub her hands under the running tap, as if she had just conveniently noticed that they were covered in dust. “Why would you even ask me about some strange man looking for a job?” 

“Mom, you know why. Sam Morris said that he’s my dad. He said he was my real father, and that I should ask you about him.” 

“Jesus Christ, Carmen, are you gonna to listen to every lunatic walkin’ the streets of fucking Chicago?” Her voice may have been steady, but Carm noticed that her hands were shaking as she grabbed a nearby dish towel and dried them off. 

“Mom,” he softened his tone, trying to appeal to reason, “Richie already told me what he knew about what happened. So we can be honest about this.” 

Donna made a big show of rolling her eyes. “Uh huh, okay, Richard Jerimovich, that paragon of honesty and virtue. That’s who we’re getting our ‘facts’ from these days? Right.” She grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the counter and lit one. 

Why couldn’t anything ever be easy with this family? 

“Richie would never lie to me about something like that, and you know it. Now I’m going to ask again, politely, will you please tell me what happened with Sam Morris?” 

“Oh, I don’t want to talk about that, Carmy. Let’s just go back to having a nice morning together, okay? Let’s forget about Sam Morris. He’s nothing, he’s nobody.” 

Carmen could feel a hot flush spreading from his neck up to his cheeks as his temper started to flare. “No, Mom. I have a right to know where I came from. I’m an adult, and I want you to tell me the truth. Tell me what happened.” 

Donna’s eyes narrowed over her cigarette as she took a long drag and exhaled slowly. Finally, she started to nod, “Okay, alright. Sure, you wanna know? I’ll tell you.” 

“Good, yes. Thank you.”

“You don’t remember anything about your fath— Jerry, because you were so young. But he was a real piece of work. Your Uncle Jimmy got him mixed up in something, and Lee was in on it too. He was gone all the time. All the time. He should have been here, helping me raise his children, but whatever he had going was obviously more important than me and Mikey and Natalie. He’d come home drunk, 4:00, 5:00 in the morning. I was here, all the time, doing everything by myself as usual, and he’d just stumble in after doing God knows what all night with those crimi-”

“Are you just gonna shit on Dad for the rest of the day, or are you getting to the point?” 

She took a deep sip of wine, then pointed at him with the two fingers clamped around her cigarette. “You shut your trap. I’m gettin’ there.” 

Carm shrugged. Coulda fooled me. 

“One night, your father was out with Jimmy and Lee, of course. Mikey and Richie were spending the night with their friend down the street, and I was so lonely here by myself with Sugar. Sam stopped by to return some tools he had borrowed from your dad at work that day. We had a drink together. Then another drink. And another drink. Honestly, probably another drink–” 

“Mom, I get it. You were drinking together.” 

“Well, after a lot of drinks, one thing led to another and,” she threw up her hands, “I made a mistake, Carmy. I made a mistake. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

Carmen felt stung by that. “Thanks for reminding me about what a huge fucking mistake I am, Mom.” 

“You know that’s not what I meant. You’re not a mistake, being with Sam was a mistake. But I was lonely, and your fath– Jerry– was never around. He was always scheming, always starting this and that but never following through, always boozing, probably had something going on the side himself all those years–” 

“Jesus Christ, are you really gonna to sit there and blame Dad for all of this? You were there, too. You made your own choices. Dad didn’t make you fuck that guy.” Carm was breathing hard now, practically seething with rage. He thought hearing the truth would set him free, but if anything it was just pissing him the fuck off. 

Donna shook her head, ignoring his outburst. Her expression had turned wistful, like she was reliving the past more than she was talking to her son in the present. “It was just one time, just that one night. I was so lonely, Carmen. And Sam seemed nice, he listened to me. Actually listened.” 

Suddenly, Carm was struck by the impression that none of this was real. Something about the way Donna was explaining the situation didn’t add up. Richie made it sound like there was more to this than some drunken one night stand. The betrayal he described was deeper than that. Some, or possibly all of this, was an act. 

“I don’t believe you,” he mumbled. 

That brought Donna back from whatever booze soaked fantasy she’d drifted into. Between gritted teeth, she hissed, “What did you just say?” 

Carmen met her gaze, “I said, I don’t believe you. You’re lying.” 

She sucked in her breath, jaw clenched, winding up. “Carmen Anthony Berzatto, how dare you accuse your mother of being a liar. How dare you.” That old familiar growl made the hair on his arms stand on end. She only used his full name when she was getting ready to unleash hell. He took a step back, no longer so sure in his own anger. 

“Mom,” to his surprise, he felt tears stinging the corners of his eyes. He tried to blink them away, “I just want the truth.” 

“No!” Without warning, she hurled the half-full wine glass across the kitchen, where it shattered against the opposite wall. Carm felt a few drops of wine splash on his cheek– she hadn’t missed him by much. “You came here to crucify me! You came here to shame me! Well I’m not going to stand for it! If you only knew what kind of man your father really is, what he’s done, you’d be on your knees thanking me for saving us from him, not interrogating me in my own home!” 

Carmen backed toward the door that lead out to the front hallway, hands up in a defensive posture, “Mom, I didn’t mean–” 

“Get out! Get out of my house!” She grabbed the closest object to hand, which happened to be a heavy crystal ashtray, and drew back as if she was about to launch it at him. 

He bolted out of the kitchen and down the hall, grabbing his jacket and throwing open the front door in one smooth motion. This wasn’t the first time he’d had to run from Donna.

Once Carm made it to the sidewalk, he stopped for a second to catch his breath. She wasn’t chasing him this time, which was a small miracle. He was doubled over, hands on his knees, breath misting out in the bright morning sun. He glanced around at the neighboring houses. As always, everything seemed peaceful and calm on their little street. Nobody had a clue what went on inside his house– inside his family. 

He happened to look down at his white t-shirt and realized the whole left side was stippled with drops of red wine. Probably how his shirt would look if he was standing next to someone when they got shot, except the stains were just a little too purple to actually be blood. Wonder if Mom’s blood looks like this now? Is it mostly wine? A strange giggle escaped his chest. Was he losing it? He straightened and took a deep breath, steadying himself. 

At this point he only had access to two people who could tell him what happened between his mom, Sam Morris, and Jerry Berzatto. At least one of them had just lied and then thrown a wine glass at his head, so that door was closed. That left just the one remaining participant. 

Sam. 

(To be concluded…)

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

I’m kind of tempted to get an EMF detector and just walk around the neighborhood with it when the outside is deserted because of bad weather, to see what kind of weird shit is happening sonically.

I’ve continually gotten really bad vibes from a nearby street corner… I’ve astral projected there in my sleep past one time (involuntarily) and I saw some black hole of a creature charge after me. I got the distinct feeling it wanted me carnally and carnivorously at the same time. I had to fly as fast as I could back into my body to escape it (it remained on the ground while I flew). I woke up with the after image of my own eyes staring into my soul, behind a white mask I used to own. It wasn’t like looking into a mirror, though; it felt sinister. I could tell I was looking into my own eyes; but there was something off about them. The eyes were completely devoid of any emotion, but extremely intense… almost as if they had a life of their own behind the reflection; or rather, as if I were the reflection in the mirror, and the eyes were the real me. Super fucking freaky.

To add to the bad vibes: There have also been numerous car crashes at that corner since I’ve been alive, at least one resulting in a woman being seriously injured. Many other times there have been near-misses. We could all hear when it happened— screeching tires, honking, cursing, and on especially unlucky days, the deafening bang of two cars ramming into each other at 40 mph on a 25 mph street.

There is also a sewer drain right on that street corner. It may just be a coincidence; but the one time I used an online ouija board, the spirit (assuming online ouija boards aren’t just a programmed gimmick) said they hated me and that they lived in the water. I refreshed the website a few times and it said the same thing. I don’t think this can be considered evidence; but it’s still weird. I’ve seen an entire family of raccoons in that sewer drain before. I have no idea how they got down there.

I also remember numerous experiences from when I was a child playing alone in my room or drawing at the kitchen table when I would be overcome with the feeling that I was being watched. I would usually come to feel so unsafe that I would drop whatever I was doing to sit in the living room or bedroom with my parents. I never told them why; I just went “nope” and moved to an area with people. My room and the kitchen are both on the side of the house that faces that corner. Mind you, I wasn’t doing anything scary like listening to “let’s not meet” stories when this happened. I was just doing normal kid stuff.

I’m by no means afraid of the dark; but I still get that feeling from the basement sometimes. All the basements on our block have flooded several times with water from the sewers during heavy rainfall because someone forgot to flip a switch for the water mains (I don’t know quite how that works). But yeah… basically the basement is connected to the sewers and storm drains… there are two holes in the floor which act as drains (which is where the flood water came from).

I remember one summer day when I was about eight or nine sitting on the can (the bathroom is right next to my room), taking a shit. We have a tiny frosted window above the bath tub; the bath tub is right next to the toilet. I distinctly saw what looked like the fuzzy silhouette of a man with gray hair standing right outside the window (full head and shoulders). He would have had to have been quite tall, or on a step stool, as the window is more than six feet off the ground from the outside. This dude shouts “Hello!” at me and fucking knocks on the window. I, of course, was startled and also mildly pissed at my dad (who is tall, but not quite that tall) for knocking on the window while I was taking a shit. I got out in the living room and asked why he knocked on the window. It wasn’t him. My parents speculated that it could have been our friend Bob who had briefly stopped by the house; but Bob was a short guy, and surely would have more fucking tact than that. Ever since then if I need to use the bathroom, I close the shower curtain.

On top of all this (completely unrelated), I’ve always had horrifying paranormal dreams since I was a kid, despite being raised without any exposure whatsoever to paranormal media. Also, I’ve had recurring dreams of a warped version of my school system, in which the buildings remain the same every time I dream of them. If there is a pool in any dream of mine, no matter how brief; it is ALWAYS haunted by some malevolent spirit… which is very weird because I absolutely love going to water parks. Always have.

Anyway… TLDR: I may have to banish something from that street corner lmfao

[shakespearefreak]

A Christmas Carol Aftermath: Work to Be Done

NOTE: I had a lot of trouble balancing the Victorian language with modern understanding of disability and cultural/religious differences. I wanted to use wording that fit with the Dickensian storytelling, without carrying into it Dickens' period-typical prejudices (which he most definitely had) or using words that had different connotations in the 19th century. If you belong to any of the groups mentioned and find my wording offensive, please let me know so I can try to fix it!

Also, I understand there are potential underlying issues with inserting Muslim and Jewish characters into a Christmas-themed story, especially as background characters. I want to be clear that the message isn't that Christianity is all-encompassing of other belief systems, but instead that all the belief systems of the world are parts of a greater whole. I hope I managed to convey that.

...

Ebenezer Scrooge looked around, wide-eyed, as they entered the massive room. Jacob had called it “The Counting-House,” but it looked more like a library, only many times larger than any library he had ever seen. St. Paul’s and ’Change would have both fit many times beneath the soaring vaulted ceiling, which reached so high that looking up at it was dizzying. He expected if he’d still had a mortal body, he might have passed out merely trying to comprehend the immensity of the space. Uncountable high shelves divided this area into corridors, and tall rolling ladders and a system of winding bronze stairs and walkways allowed workers to access the higher levels. The shelves were filled with books, which Scrooge immediately recognized as ledgers, each one bound in leather and embossed with a different name on the spine. Some of the names were common enough, and he even thought he spotted one or two names of people he’d known personally, but others seemed strange and unpronounceable to him, and others still were printed in complex, swooping calligraphy that was utterly foreign. Ebenezer, who had an eye for such things, quickly realized that while neatly organized, the ledgers were not alphabetical; he couldn’t find any rhyme or reason to the filing system as Jacob led him past the shelves, but at the same time, it was clear there was a precise order. But to Ebenezer, the most interesting part of all was the workers. After living in London, where so many kinds of people lived shoulder-to-shoulder — rich and poor, young and old, healthy bodies and those twisted by nature or accident — he’d thought he was familiar with the variety of mankind, but now he saw how limited that view had been. They passed a woman whose entire form was covered by a long veil, only her dark eyes visible, chatting animatedly with a young woman whose dress would have been in fashion perhaps five hundred years ago. A man in a costume he associated with the ancient Orient stood beside a dark-haired woman on a ladder as she handed books down to him. Ebenezer saw a silver six-pointed star glinting on a chain around the woman’s neck. A little boy, surely no older than seven, ran barefoot past him carrying a stack of ledgers. The boy reminded Eb of Tim, back when he’d first met him, though this child had the brown skin and fantastic garb of far India. As they walked along, many they passed greeted Jacob with familiarity and obvious pleasure. A young man called out cheerfully from several rows over, and Jacob returned his greeting with a wave and a grin. Several times, they stopped for Jacob to converse: he asked how so-and-so was getting on with such-and-such, laughed at some shared joke, offered advice or a sympathetic ear. It reminded Scrooge of his walks to and from the countinghouse. Once, he had hurried along, warding off any attempt at conversation with a growl; but in the final stretch of his mortal life, he had stopped every few steps to enquire after someone’s health, drop a few coins in a blindman’s tin, pet a dog or cat, or have a snowball fight with some neighborhood children. He had found his life infinitely enriched by these small interactions, and was gladdened to see that on the other side of the veil, Jacob had also discovered this joy. At the very heart of the hustle and bustle sat an old man, shaped rather like an overstuffed armchair, with a face like a bulldog. A flurry of papers was spread haphazardly over his desk, and he hunched over to read them so that his nose nearly touched the worn wooden surface. Every so often, someone would approach him and he’d listen thoughtfully, sometimes nodding, other times furrowing his brow and frowning, occasionally scribbling a signature on this form or that. He had an ink stain on one cheek, and his hair was untidy and frazzled, but when he looked up to greet them, the eyes behind his spectacles were bright and sharp. “Jacob!” he boomed in a voice that reminded Scrooge of Fezziwig, his genial old employer back in his ’prentice days. Jacob offered his hand, and the old man shook it warmly. “Returned from your holiday, I see! Well, we’re very glad to have you back; always so much to do, as you well know, and your talent was much missed!” Those sharp eyes turned to Scrooge, and he had the peculiar sensation that the bulldoggish old man was looking through him, taking in his whole history in a glance. It made him feel naked and vulnerable, the way he had felt that long-ago night with the Spirits. Then the old man smiled, seeming to approve, and turned his gaze back to Jacob. “Have you brought us a new recruit?” “I hope so,” Jacob said, with a wide grin. “This is Ebenezer Scrooge.” Scrooge stepped forward, politely but nervously. “Mr Scrooge! I’ve heard so much about you, and I’m delighted to finally make your acquaintance! I am — well, you may call me the Record Keeper. Has Jacob told you a little about what we do here?” Ebenezer nodded, feeling unsure. He hadn’t interviewed for a position for a very long time indeed, and whatever else this was, it was a job of sorts, that much seemed clear. “Yes. As I understand from Jacob — Mr Marley — you are in the business of, well, keeping records of mortal lives; balancing the cosmic books, in a manner of speaking.” The little old man gave him another piercing glance, and Eb thought his eyes seemed cooler now. This made him even more anxious. “Yes,” the little man said, “but that’s not all there is to it, as I’m sure Jacob has explained —” “Yes, he did,” Eb hurried to agree, worried now that perhaps whatever misstep he seemed to have made could have consequences for his husband. “He was very clear on that. You also, well… you help people settle their debts. As you did for me.” This last was very quiet. “Yes.” The old man nodded. “Though mortals aren’t often as… aware of our agents as you were. Most times, we simply influence, planting small suggestions, pointing the right direction. They don’t even know we’re there. There are many different departments, but this specific department is, not to put too fine a point on it, for people like you two were.” “Hardheaded fools hellbent on digging their own graves, in other words,” Jacob put in, amused. Ebenezer shot him a slightly annoyed glance, feeling he was taking this whole thing too lightly. “So… redemption,” Scrooge said thoughtfully. “In essence, my dear sir,” said the Record Keeper. “Now, I suppose I’ll turn the floor over to you.” He sat back expectantly, waiting for Scrooge to say something. This took Ebenezer rather by surprise. He cleared his throat nervously. He knew he couldn’t actually be thirsty — the dead don’t need to eat or drink — but his mouth felt dry somehow anyway. “Well, er…” He was already off to a bad start. He gathered his thoughts and tried again. “I think I would be useful to your organization because I understand how the people you work with think. I understand the logic, flawed though it is. I also have experience working in a mortal establishment which bears some similarities to your business structure, and. Well. I mean…” His words trailed off. The Record Keeper was looking at him with a politely blank stare, not cold, but certainly not warm either. He seemed ready to get back to his papers. Ebenezer didn’t know what he’d done wrong, but he was suddenly quite sure that the interview was over. He moistened his lips. “Well, thank you for your consideration —” he began, but Jacob stopped him. “Would you please give us a moment?” Jacob asked the Record Keeper, and the old man nodded and returned to the forms on his desk. Jacob drew Eb aside. “Ebenezer… I understand what you’re thinking, but this… it isn’t like any form of employment you would be familiar with.” “So what should I say? What does he want me to say?” “I can’t tell you that,” Jacob said mildly. “But if I could make a suggestion, I’d try telling him what you told me about being useful. He knows your background, the best and the worst of it; he knows your talents and how they could prove useful. Your motives are what’s important here.” “Wouldn’t he know my motives already, too?” Jacob smiled. “Yes, probably. But what I think matters is that you tell him, and how you tell him.” Ebenezer took a deep breath — he no longer needed to breathe any more than he needed food or drink, but it helped steady him — and once again approached the desk. Jacob hung back slightly, but Eb felt his husband’s gaze on him, and that gave him courage. “Excuse me, sir?” The Record Keeper looked up, his face still blank and noncommittal. Eb closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts, then opened them and spoke slowly. His voice was unsure and lacked the formality he’d used earlier. “I want, desperately actually, to help. Much of my life, I would have said that there was nothing I could truly do for anyone else, even if I’d wanted to. That I could toss coins to beggars and feed the poor all day long, but there would still be a hundred more needy ready to take their place. But Jacob helped me realize that there is so much that I — that anyone — can do to make the mortal world better.” He paused. “Maybe our world too, actually. There’s so much I don’t know, but I would like to learn, if you would have me.” He gave a small, uncomfortable chuckle. “I’m afraid I’m not very good with words — that was always more Jacob’s talent — but please believe me when I say, I want this more than I can express.” The Record Keeper was looking at him with increased interest and attention now. “Why?” “Why?” Eb echoed, honestly confused. “Yes, why do you want it so much? Are you hoping to earn your own redemption by helping others to theirs? Balance the scales more in your favour? Because as you already know, the chains were only part of it.” With dawning comprehension, Ebenezer said thoughtfully, “The evils I did, I can never undo. Doing good works won’t change that, not for those I hurt.” The Record Keeper listened, seemingly waiting for more. Ebenezer searched for the words and found them: “Simply put, I want to help because it feels good to help.” The Record Keeper’s crinkled face burst into a wide smile. “Ebenezer! There you are!” Eb found his hand engulphed by both the old man’s own and pumped enthusiastically. “You had me worried for a moment, my dear sir, but you found your answer.” Scrooge, shocked at this sudden turn of events, gaped. He could barely believe it. “Are you saying…?” “The position is yours, dear boy! Jacob, you’ll show him the ropes, I trust?” Before Jacob could answer, Ebenezer had all but tackled him in an embrace. After a moment, he released him, looking sheepish. “I’m… I’m sorry,” he told the Record Keeper. “It won’t be repeated —” and then Jacob’s lips were on his own, kissing him deeply. “Jacob!” he said breathlessly, scandalized, when his mouth was free again, but he saw the Record Keeper was beaming. “My dear Ebenezer, your Jacob knows our business is, at bottom, the business of love. Expressions of it will never be inappropriate or out of place here… up to a point, Mr Marley!” he added with feigned sternness in response to Jacob’s slightly wicked smile. Jacob laughed heartily. Ebenezer looked between them for a moment, uncomprehending, and then a hot flush spread over his cheeks. Jacob saw it and kissed him again, more gently this time, caressing his face briefly, tenderly. “All right, all right, back to work!” The Record Keeper clapped his hands briskly. “That means everyone!” he added, and Scrooge noticed that they had attracted a small and amiable audience. As the Record Keeper turned back to his piles of papers, Eb’s hand was shaken over and over as he was introduced to his new coworkers. There was, as Jacob had told him, as the Record Keeper had echoed, and as he himself knew, so much work to be done, and he was eager to begin, with his partner and these new friends at his side.

...

SPECIAL NOTE: This is the first installment since @wolfenm's passing this past February. Their "Conspiracy of Spirits" was what first got me into this ship, which is now my ultimate OTP. Wolfie was a talented writer, a wonderful person, and a very dear friend, and they are very much missed. Hail the traveler!

Also in this series: “A Joyful Reunion” “Fan” Marley’s Grave Tim

DISCLAIMER: A Christmas Carol is a public domain work. However, these vignettes were also inspired by several other works, including “A Conspiracy of Spirits: The Love Story of Jacob Marley and Ebenezer Scrooge” in The Solstice Tales by @wolfenm, Jacob T. Marley by R. William Bennet, and Jacob Marley’s Christmas Carol by Tom Mula. All these works belong to their respective owners, not to me.

AUTHOR’S NOTES: This installment took most of its inspiration from Jacob Marley's Christmas Carol, especially with the inclusion of the Record Keeper.

A quick shout-out to the new movie Spirited for pushing me into writing this! Funnily enough, I had only seen the first 20 minutes when I wrote this, and was amazed to see how much of it lined up with the film's messages when I finished the movie. It's almost uncanny.

Also available on AO3, DeviantArt, and FF.net

[alfredosauce50]

One more night

[Boxer! Denmark x reader] 9

Wordcount: 2, 776 Rating: R18+ for adult themes and sex The reader is referred to as she/her.

One more night - 9

Dream on

“Asshole,” Amelia shot him a side-eye. She joined Gilbert by the counter, who wore a graphic tee with another reference she didn’t get. He wasn’t the type to go out much, and Allen was still giving him shit.

So much for not being judgmental.

“He’s harmless, Al. Really.” You murmured.

“That’s what you said about Mathias too.” He huffed.

The arms around you tightened. What Allen implied held more truth than any of you liked to admit, but you weren’t throwing anyone under the bus. Not when so many eyes around the room were red.

“It’s Ma—tee—as. Not Ma—thy—as.”

“Whatever,” He mumbled, spooning up some chili. He studied his surroundings as he chewed. Almost everyone was eating, including one unwanted guest. “So what are we even doing, sitting around like this?”

“Some of us were going to the gym,” You answered, leaning forward to retrieve a toy car that rolled off.

“And who’s some?”

Everyone ended up going. Gilbert was the only one in a good mood, seeing how many people joined him.

While everyone was off doing their own thing, you and Amy with the slam balls, Allen on the bench, and his friend on the machines, Mathias sat in the cafeteria with Bob, putting blocks in a shape sorter.

Ten minutes in, you walked over, your shirt slightly damp with sweat. He perked up immediately.

“Tell me if you wanna leave, by the way.” You patted his shoulder. He blinked, but couldn’t be surprised by your suggestion. “We can take the little one home and have the apartment to ourselves for a bit.”

“Why would I want to leave?”

“Did you really want to stay here?” You softened your gaze. When he leaned back with his brows furrowed, you had your answer. “There’s nothing for you to do here. You were better off staying back.”

It was true. The entire neighborhood had shown up, and he was the only one sitting on the side.

“But I didn’t wanna miss out.” Mathias sighed.

“There isn’t a lot you’re missing out on,” You assured.

He didn’t say anything, only kissing you in silent disagreement. You didn’t understand it like he did.

“Just take things at your own pace.”

He had seen a few contestants, their bright red mitts on and ready to train. Their muscles rippled with every jab, punch, and swing, their tired smiles radiating a magnetic kind of satisfaction. They were the talk of the town, the up-and-coming sports stars.

It was a race he had yet to take the first step in.

And the longer he waited, the harder it would get.

“You’ve gained six pounds,” His coach said, pulling his glasses off. “And you’ve lost some muscle mass.”

Mathias was sitting in his office, getting a rundown of his body measurements. A lot was bound to change after a month of inactivity, and more for worse than better, but he was determined to get back on track.

“There are some other things too,” The knowing look in their eyes made the atmosphere a somber one. Regardless, his pupil sat perkily in his chair, eager and ready for anything thrown at him. “All of which—”

He held his breath.

“—can be improved pretty quickly if you started training now.” The man continued.

“Okay!” Mathias nodded, springing up from his chair. “Then we can start now. I’ll go get my wraps.”

“Wait a minute, Densen.” His coach picked up a piece of paper with his index and middle finger. “Medical certificate. I’m not legally allowed to train you until I get the okay from your doctor.”

He swiped it from his hand and skimmed through it. By the time he was done, his lips were pursed in a deep frown. Lifting the paper to his face, he covered himself as heat rushed to his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mathias. These rules are only here to protect you. Come back when you’re all healed up.”

“But that could take weeks.” He uttered, voice faint.

Mathias didn’t realize how torn he’s been until he started crying. It wasn’t the first time he hit a roadblock, and yet, thinking about everything left him tearing up. Nothing was going right.

“How am I supposed to fight?”

“You can’t rush recovery, sport.” The other sighed. Standing from their chair, they took his shoulder and ushered him outside. “Take it from me. Your future self will thank you for taking the break you needed.”

They stopped in the middle of his boxing gym.

“Just give the speed bag a spin.”

Mathias didn’t hesitate to do exactly that, wrapping his hands so he could start punching it. The bag went back and forth as he rolled his fists against it in rhythmic circles. Heat surged throughout his body.

“Otherwise, you gotta sit everything out.”

Getting back on his feet should’ve been invigorating. But as he stepped up his workout—against what his doctor and coach advised—and to the level of what other boxers were at, he burnt out like a light.

After a quick burst of jabs, chin tucked and feet bouncing, his chest began to ache. He grit his teeth and pressed on anyway, swinging at the sandbag until he couldn’t anymore. He lasted twenty minutes.

Mathias lowered himself to a crouch.

His mouth hung agape as he panted. Sweat rolled down to his chin, eyes squinting from pain. The severe stabbing sensation in his chest was a brutal reminder of what everybody had been telling him.

“Can we please get a hamster?”

Everyone was cleaning out the apartment, save for Mathias. Amy mopped the floor, you did the laundry, and Allen polished up the kitchen. It was a system that hadn’t changed since it was created years ago.

“You don’t even like hamsters.”

“I never said that. I just don’t like them as much as dogs,” Allen replied, walking out the door to take out the garbage. When he returned, his voice faded back into earshot. “Or cats. Or even birds.”

“So you don’t like them.” Amy raised her brows.

“I do. I just have favorites,” He scrubbed down the sink before flicking open the tap to wash everything down. “Fish and hamsters are apartment-friendly, and fish are boring. So, we should get a hamster.”

“Whatever it is, we don’t have room for a tank.”

“We so do! It’s just a box. We can put it anywhere.”

“Where? The living room?”

“That’ll be too noisy,” Allen threw a hand towel over his shoulder, turning to you with a shit-eating grin.

“Only including me in the conversation when you need something, huh?” You stifled a smile.

“Hehe.”

“If you’re asking if it can be put in my room, it’s a no.”

His shoulders slumped.

“I’ve got a small room and it’ll probably stink. Don’t think that’ll be good for Mat.” You pinned a shirt with your chin to fold it. Adding it to a neat pile, you then picked up a pair of boxers. “How about the balcony?”

“But that’s cruel!”

“I don’t know where else, then.”

“Okay, okay. Fine.” Allen nodded, raising his arms in defeat. “We’ll just put it in my room. Oh, wait. I don’t have a room. I don’t need a private space, but it’s not fair that you guys aren’t willing to share it!”

“We’re cramped enough as is. Having a rodent might just take up the last bit of oxygen around here.” Amy glided in with her mop. She followed her brother with her gaze, who plummeted on the couch, sighing.

“Then we won’t get a hamster. Happy?”

You and Amy were back in her room, huddled in front of Mathias’s laptop, looking at the PetSmart website.

“There goes my trip to the Bahamas,” She grumbled, adding a cage to her cart. Inside it was also wooden shavings, pellets, treats, and toys which you both would split. The hamster part would come later.

“You put aside a fifty-bucks for the Bahamas?”

“Hey, I can dream.”

“I mean, if we flew to Florida and caught a ship there, that would probably be a few hundred.” You nodded.

“See? Perfectly doable! But we also gotta stop by Disneyworld on the way.” She beamed.

“Now, that’s not very doable.”

“I said I was only dreaming.”

Mathias came home an hour later. He went straight to the sink to wash his shaker, splashing some water on the sides. Allen sat further up the couch to watch him ruin an hour’s worth of good work.

“You gonna wipe that?”

“Yeah, sorry.” The Dane peered over his shoulder. After leaving the kitchen spic and span, he ambled into Amy’s bedroom. You were on his laptop, playing flash games. “(F/N), Can I talk to you?”

“What’s up?”

He closed the door behind him. When he turned to you, his laptop was closed and you were on the bed, waiting for him. The simple gesture left him smiling gently, which was very telling after today’s events.

“I did my PTs today,” He joined your side.

“And how were they?” You asked.

Mathias turned to the wall in front of him.

“They were alright.”

And yet, he kept his head down, unable to look at you. When he was this quiet, this reserved, he always had the worst on his mind. You figured as such, so you leaned your head against his shoulder.

“My ribs are getting better, but I haven’t worked out in a month. I’m starting to lose my muscles.”

“Can’t you gain it back?”

“Maybe if I started now,” He glanced down at you, darting his eyes over yours. It hurt to say what he’d been holding in, but not as much as your reaction.“But I won’t be fully healed for another month.”

“Okay? What if you start then?” You piped up faintly.

“That’s two months I haven’t trained,” He pressed his head to your chest. His voice grew fainter and fainter as he spoke, all until this came out as nothing but an anguished whisper. “I don’t think I’ll make it in time.”

Allen stood outside the door, listening in to the conversation. And there, he let his guilt fester all over again. He never meant to hurt his nephew. And he definitely never meant to jeopardize Mathias’s career.

What he could only hope to do now was to make it up him, but how could he right something so wrong?

“I’m staying at Mat’s place tonight.”

“Okay. When are you coming back?” Allen asked. There was no resistance on his end, not even the urge to question why. He just let go. Or maybe, he was finally being understanding like he wanted to be.

“Tomorrow after work,” You replied, lifting a tote with some necessities—your uniform, wallet, and keys.

“Want me to pick you guys up?”

“I’ll call you.”

You walked to the door with Mathias, who had his duffel, ready to go. He stepped out first.

“Tell Amy where I am, okay?”

“Okay.”

Before you left, you lingered around in the doorway. Your hesitance caught Allen’s attention, but he never opened his mouth to say anything. Not until you did. So there he stood, watching your back expectantly.

“Allen?”

“Yeah?”

You turned to him, eyes downcast.

“I’m sorry for what I said.” You uttered.

“And what did you say?” He leaned on the counter.

“That I was just your friend,” Your gaze saddened, and you couldn’t bear to stay here any longer. But you made sure he heard this before you left for the night. “You’ll always be my brother.”

The door clicked shut.

“Whatever you say,” He sighed.

Going back to Mathias’s was a breath of fresh air, only his place smelled just like him. It had that clean, woody scent you loved. And you didn’t realize how much you missed him until you were drowning in it.

“What’s with the bear?” You picked up a tiny teddy from his bedside table. It had a blue-striped outfit and bright red heart sewn in the middle. Everything was just as he left it, including his shopping.

“Remember when we went to IKEA?” He asked, sliding off his bed and walking over to you.

“Uh-huh. Did you buy it for yourself?”

“Kind of,” Mathias took it from you and started playing with it. He spun it from side to side, letting the arms hit your forehead gently. “For the future. But maybe I should just give it to Bob.”

“You don’t have to. He has plenty of toys.” You huffed out, a little embarrassed by what he implied. But you were insistent on one thing. Taking the teddy, you put it back where you found it. “You should keep it.”

“Why? I don’t need it.”

“Then why did you buy it?”

“I wanted it in the moment. But maybe I shouldn’t have bought it.” He scratched his head.

“Maybe.”

Mathias followed you into bed. He pulled you onto his thighs so you could straddle him. Your hands went against his chest, heart pounding as you stared at him. And he stared back, smiling gently.

It was different now that you were at his place, in his bed. And the privacy was intoxicating.

“Did you want me to keep it?”

“I said that, didn’t I?”

“You can’t answer my question with a question.”

“Why not?”

He laughed. Then, he leaned in. His lips connected with yours in an open-mouthed kiss. The heat of his tongue alone could get you light-headed, but he was never one to hold back. So he stuck it down your throat, drowning you with the taste of him.

By the time he stopped kissing you, every last bit of your clothes was gone, and his hands were pumping you up and down your waist. That and the sight of his twitching cock left you dripping wet.

Seeing it left him aching for a hot fuck.

You wanted him just much as he wanted you, and it drove him mad. But before he let loose, he got a condom. Tearing open the wrapper, he put it over the head of his dick and rolled it down to the base.

You had sex with him for hours. It felt so good to finally do it with him, but good was barely the word to describe the feeling of connecting with him. While you rode him into oblivion, head rolled back and mouth agape, you cried quiet tears of satisfaction.

“Are you really pulling out of the tournament?”

You lay next to him, your body ravished and head clearer than ever before. There was no part of you he hadn’t touched, kissed, or penetrated, no crevice of your mind he hadn’t invaded. But with that clarity returned the grief from his waning motivation.

“Don’t give up.” You reached out to his cheek, face warping with sadness. “You tried so hard.”

“Don’t think about that now,” Mathias took your hand and kissed the knuckles. His hair was sticking to his forehead, his cheeks were rosy, and his heart was still pounding. “Just lay with me.”

He was spent after going at it for hours, and so satisfied, he couldn’t be sad. His restless mind was in a dream-like state, put to sleep by your body. And so, Mathias was content for the first time in a long time.

He hadn’t had you for too long. And once he did, he reached a high so good, he fell asleep smiling.

The tournament was in four months. He had three to train. When he’d finally start, he’d have lost so much muscle mass, heart health, and skill, reaching his old condition in time would’ve been a miracle.

Surpassing everyone else would take another one. Nobody in their right mind would believe he could pull it off. Not his doctor, coach, or any of his friends. It was only Allen that wasn’t in his right mind.

Not entirely, anyway.

The next morning, he pulled up to Mathias’s place.

You already left for work, so it was just him making eggs. While he stirred it in the pan, he wiped a drop of sweat that hung off his eyebrow. The Summer heat was unforgiving, and his realities even more so.

Waking up alone was a harsh reminder of them.

His career had come to a standstill.

Breathing out a sigh, he took the pan off the stove. Before he could dig in, he heard a knock on his door. Did you forget something? When he opened it, he fully expected it to be you standing outside.

“Hey.”

Only it was anyone but.

“You get in a good workout lately?”

Allen was at his doorstep, gym bag slung over his shoulder and shaker in one hand.

Next chapter: Thunderstruck

Tag-list: @sunnysssol @chicha027 @javelintine

[dragonmuse]

Absolutely LOVE the new story!! It's so nice to see Stede's and Olu's POV, I didn't realize how much I missed Olu. I'm guessing we will see some in this story, but could we see Olu and Alma hanging out? Maybe when she was younger and would hang out at the bar when she's in the city?

(yay, thank you! You may certainly have some young Alma and Oluwande!)

“What’s up, baby bat?” Oluwande asked as Alma flopped down into Ethel’s empty makeup chair. 

“I’m bored,” she informed him as if this was the very worst thing in the world that could’ve happened.  “I want to go home, but Dad and Eddy are talking and they keep saying five more minutes and it’s been like an hour.” 

“Yeah, I think all good tiny people are supposed to be in bed,” he considered. “It’s like 2 AM.” 

“I’m not tiny. Or a baby,” she stuck out her bottom lip. “I’m thirteen.” 

“Right, my mistake,” he nodded, wiping off the last pits of his makeup. “Want to help me clean this place up?” 

Alma looked in despair around the changing room. “Did you make the mess?” 

“Little bit of it. But we just take turns going through every few weeks. John did it last time, Frenchie time before that. I’m probably due. It’s not as bad as it looks.” 

“Good,” she wrinkled her nose. “Cause it looks really bad.”

“We’re just going to go through, pick up clothes and if it’s got a label, it gets tossed on their chair. No label, let me get an eye on it. It’s usually easy to tell who belongs to what. If we don’t know it, it goes in the box by the door.” 

“Yeah, okay,” she sighed and went to go start in Leda’s corner where there was little in the way in clothes and a lot in the way of rhinestones. “What do I do with these?” 

“Toss ‘em.” 

“Can I keep them?” 

“Knock yourself out.” 

“What’s this?” Alma held up a squishy yellow object. 

“That’s a hip pad. We cut ‘em out of couch cushion foam. That one looks like it’s Frenchie’s size, toss it on her chair.” 

“Okay.” 

It was actually useful to have a smaller person around. Alma got under all the vanities for what might be the first time in literal years. She found an earring Oluwande was sure he’d lost for good, an entire set of the Kraken’s press ons, innumerable bobby pins, and a roll of duct tape.

“What’s this for?” 

“...ask your parents,” Oluwande took it from her. “Better yet, just google it in say...five or six years.” 

“Whatever,” she wrinkled her nose. “I probably don’t want to know.” 

“Probably not. Okay, so that piece is done. Let’s take a step back and see what the next thing to do is. The key is to break it down into steps so you don’t get overwhelmed.”

It took a half hour or so to square the room away enough that Oluwande felt good about abdicating responsibility again for a few months. Alma even vacuumed and looked pleased when he praised her for it, even if she’d missed a few spots. 

When they headed back out to the bar, Stede and Eddy were still in deep conversation with several people. Oluwande walked up and Eddy caught his eye, grimacing. 

“Listen,” she whispered. “There was some petition going around that’s got everyone in the neighborhood nervous. It’s probably nothing, but Stede wants to hash it out with the club owners from next store tonight, so we’re on the same page. Can you walk Alma home? The sitter is there with Charlie, probably both sleeping though.  Sorry to even ask.” 

“No, I heard that too,” he sighed. It was a nuisance thing, but he got why it made Stede jumpy. Oluwande didn’t like it either when the morality gang showed up to raise their particular brand of hell. “Where’s Jim?” 

“Knocking on doors of all the other late night businesses. Just to let them know we’re going to meet in the next week or so. Pre-game. We’ll want you there for the actual meeting. You’re better at getting people to listen to you than either of us.  I’ll read you in. Ok?” 

“Got it. Keys?”  

Eddy tossed the them to him and Oluwande shoved them in his pocket. 

“Let’s get you in bed,” he said to Alma, who in a remarkable moment, didn’t protest. 

“Okay.” 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Stede stopped for a moment, bending down to hug her. “We’ll all go out for a long brunch tomorrow, all right?” 

“Kay,” she said into his stomach. “Night, Dad.” 

“Good night, Alma.” 

They walked together into the night. She had a little leather jacket, pulled over her dress and her purple docs. Oluwande remembered being that age, an unsure cocktail of newly pumping hormones, caught halfway from child to teenager.  There was a bow tied at the end of her braid. 

“You do that?” He asked flicking the ribbon so her braid swayed a little. 

“Eddy put it in,” she said, pleased. “She has a lot of ribbon.” 

“Yeah, I think she’s doing a whole dress thing. It’s a Roach idea.” 

“Do you make your own dresses?” 

“Nope. I leave that to the dream team. I do my own wigs though and I style theirs in exchange sometimes. It evens out.” 

“How do you style a wig?” 

“You want the whole class?” he glanced at her with as mile. “Because I charge for that.” 

“No,” she huffed. “Just curious.” 

“It’s a lot like real hair in some ways. Just things you have to be careful of. Different products sometimes. The hard part with drag queen wigs is that they need a lot of volume, so you usually wind up making them out of a lot of different wigs. It’s a process.” 

“Why do they have to be big?” 

So he spent the rest of the walk telling her about proportion. If it was a different kid, he wouldn’t have bothered, but Alma always listened with birdlike intent and seemed to retain everything. She asked questions and fired off a random, 

“Victorian people kept the hair if their dead family and made it into jewelry.”  

“Oh fuck, why?” he groaned. 

“I don’t know, I think it’s nice,” she said dreamily. “Like keeping a bit of them with you.” 

“I think I’ll stick to photos, but thanks for that image.” 

When they got there, Alma took the keys from him to open the door and then dropped them on the spindly table by the door. She sat and worked off her boots. Oluwande hovered, uncomfortable with just leaving her there. 

“It’s okay, see,” she got up and pointed to the sofa where someone was sleeping under a blanket. “That’s Marisa. She’s okay. Dad says it’s okay for her to nap as long as Charlie can wake her up if he needs something.” 

“Okay, you need anything before I leave you though?” 

Alma hesitated, and then shook her head. “It’s okay.” 

“Hey, how about a last snack before bed?” he said nonchalantly. “I know I could eat and your Dad and Eddy are snack hoarders.” 

“Do you like macaroons?” 

“You know it.” 

They were quiet, pouring glasses of milk and eating fancy little cookies without turning on the overhead lights. Oluwande was glad he stayed, when Alma went on telling him about Victoiran mourning jewelry, clearly relieved for the company. When she started yawning again though, he gestured her towards her room. 

“I’ll text your Dad. Want me to set the security alarm on my way out?” 

“Yeah, okay,” she shrugged, but her face said ‘Yes. Please.’ 

Stede had never changed the passcode from the early days of living here when Oluwande crashed on the couch. He wondered how Eddy let him get away with that as he armed the thing and walked back out into the night. 

The streets were still busy, even at the late hour. It was a summer Saturday, rich with potential vices and delights. Oluwande avoided a few drunks and watched the neon lights sparkle in puddles from last night’s rainstorm. It was it’s own kind of lullaby and by the time he got back to the bar, he was yawning. 

“Hey,” Jim swung out from the still clustered group. “Want to go?” 

“Yeah, but-” 

“It’s cool. They’re going in circles. Eddy said she’d call you tomorrow.” 

“Sure?” 

“Mhm. Let’s just go.” 

That was probably smart. If they said good night, they’d get sucked into the conversation. The alley door was propped so they went out the back. 

“Walk?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” Jim nodded. “Nice enough.” 

They made it a few blocks before Oluwande offered to them, 

“Want to know what I learned tonight?” 

“That you’re a soft mark for babysitting?” 

“Haha. I don’t have to tell you.” 

“But you want to,” Jim smiled. “So you will.” 

“...okay so apparently people made jewlery out of hair.” 

“Gross!” Jim grinned at him. “Why?” 

“That’s what I asked!” 

He caught them up on all of Alma’s factoids as they walked. 

And maybe, several years later, there would come a day when Alma would stand at the door to her bedroom with a contractor bag and her mother saying, 

“I told you this day would come!” 

And she would close her eyes, take a deep breath and say to herself, “Just break it into small steps.” 

Bit by bit, the dragon hoard that had been her childhood bedroom would yield itself to her persuasion. She texted Oluwande a picture when she was done. 

Alma: voila. 

Oluwane: good job. 

Alma: thanks. Like a lot. I was freaking out. 

Oluwande: You had it. You’ll have all of it. 

[taughtdefense]

there’s a lot of things that you haven’t revealed about yourself to your friends... like the fact that you’re an eldritch being, or the fact that your humanity switch had been flipped for an entire day after you’d had a particularly nasty run-in with a horde of cobra kai students - excluding robby, thank fucking void - a few days ago. that’d been a 5v1, & some part of you just decided you were slightly done with pretending to be weak, at least for that singular, isolated interaction in particular. there hadn’t been a punch thrown, no kick blocked, just general taunts & sneers from kyler & his band of clowns. after they’d left, you flipped your emotions back on, & that had been hell, even if they’d only been suppressed for a total of six minutes... almost that entire solo interaction. your depressive episodes have been rapidly pendulum-swinging violently between making you feel too much & not enough since then. right now, you’re glad your emotions are off, because if you had to look at robby when he’s like this, a member of cobra kai despite ( because? ) of everything, you would have lost your fucking mind.

but that emptiness you’re feeling is better than feeling too much. it’s better than anger, better than sadness, better than guilt ( YOU SHOULD HAVE TRIED HARDER TO STOP EVERY BAD THING FROM HAPPENING, ETHAN ! YOU’RE A FUCKING FAILURE ! ), better than the bone-deep, choking grief of losing your first love to monsters in the form of deranged, war-starving men. …it’s a little funny. you - the kidpool version of you - have killed people like that before, people who are so much worse than terry silver & john kreese, without so much as hesitating, or deliberating on the morality of anti-heroes. …or what your mom would say if she saw kidpool you surrounded, shoulder-deep, by corpses that were once clearly identifiable as human, ripped apart by stitched-together atoms in the form a little blond boy, small hands stained with enough wet grey matter for it to drip between your fingers. why you can’t raise a hand against your enemies in this universe is unknown, but that divine intervention is probably for the best of everyone around you.

you suppose your emotions being off again - dead & buried - is why you’re entertaining kyler & his stupid fucking antics, complete with the same gaggle of idiots. they’re back for round two. the only thing that’s different is that @vipersunion , scarlett & jaime are with them this time. why, you don’t know, nor do you really want to start chatting with them. that’s fine. you & talia are friends despite the karate war, & even though jaime is robby’s twin, you don’t really know her that well. same with scarlett. all you know is that scarlett is best friends with tory & that other girl, cosima. you’ve pretty much ignored the four of them, who are both standing off to the side with ciro while kyler recycles the same old taunts you’ve heard a thousand times.

it’s technically nine versus one; hardly fair odds given your inexperience in karate. but you’re not really counting on ciro & talia fighting you. jaime is a wildcard, but you already know that ciro’s going to stop her from fighting you if it comes down to it. it’s just kyler & four others taunting you.

you’re just standing in the middle of sam’s neighborhood, surrounded by cobra kai members who’d ran into you randomly. you’d walked from your apartment to the larusso house to clear your head, had dinner & hung out with sam, then started walking back to your apartment. they’d walked up to you. calling for back up is a little impossible right now.

you’re staring blankly at kyler & his four friends, your stance far too casual. the blank look on your face & the way you’re standing is not like you at all. it makes ciro slightly unnerved. as a result, he’s half-standing in front of talia & jaime, a warning to them ( & not to you ) is clear in his stance. ❝ don’t do anything, ❞ his body language screams. it’s not because he thinks they’re weak, but you’re the outlying factor here. you’re something he can’t predict, despite the literal millions of years of friendship between you. he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on with you lately, but the fact that it’s visibly unnerving him should be an indication to the two girls that you’re not… you, right now. ciro’s protection doesn’t extend to the other cobra kai members, which of course you’ve noticed.

GOOD. maybe you’ll get to blow off a little steam, witnesses be damned. you’ve been angry at the universe - at kreese & silver for manipulating robby - for far too long.

eventually, kyler gets annoyed at that fact that you’re not reacting to his taunts, & you simply roll your shoulders when he growls at you. you’re entirely unbothered, & a little bored, whereas kyler is growing increasingly aggravated. it’s something you’re counting on.

❝ you done? ❞ your tone is equal parts jarring to the others & robotic. it makes ciro have visceral reaction, goosebumps decorating his skin, physically scowling. he looks visibly unnerved. all of these emotions are unheard of for him. instinctively, he raises both arms up to gently push talia & jaime a step backwards. he’s treating you like a powder keg that’s about to explode, but his wariness isn’t unwarranted. something that you recognize.

you just… don’t fucking care about any of it anymore. the karate war, the crazed senseis, the drama between sam & tory. let robby do what he fucking wants. he’s a big boy, he doesn’t need you to look out for him anymore. he can ruin his own fucking life. you’re done caring.

( that’s what you think now, anyway. )

❝ no, wilson. i’m not. ❞ kyler responds coldly, all snark & no brains to the obvious change in you. you predict the first punch before his brain can tell his body what to do. he swings a punch up at your jaw easily, but you very smoothly react, grabbing his hand in your fist before the punch can connect, squeezing his hand so hard that you hear every single knuckle in his hand pop. it’s an impossibly fast, one that’s pure instinct. surprise flashes across kyler’s face, & the other cobra kai’s faces turn from taunting to surprised, alarmed or fearful. you can sense the fear coming off their entire bodies in waves. kyler is about to pull his hand back, but you hold fast. then, you sharply twist his hand without much force on your end at an awkward angle. the sound of a single but vital bone in his wrist dislocating echoes sharply across the dead empty street, & kyler screams in pain. ciro’s nose scrunches up for a half second. not at the scream, but at the sound of the bone being dislocated.

you drop his hand, then push him backwards, aiming a calculated spinning kick to the side of his head, long before kyler can even defend himself. the kick connects perfectly. kyler’s head snaps to the side, & he stumbles backwards, groaning. big red steps up to fight you next, but you simply punch him in the throat with a fraction of your true strength. the teen collapses onto the ground like a stone into water, gasping horribly for air he can’t get. his entire face goes as red as his hair in a matter of seconds. you didn’t break anything - you merely fractured something, probably important, based on the way he’s wheezing. when the third cobra kai member, alex, rushes forward to fight you, you quickly stop him in his tracks. you grab his arm, another hand reaching across his chest to force him to stop. he does, & you flip him onto his back, barely moving yourself. it’s one fluid motion, so fast that it makes ciro raise an eyebrow.

speaking of ciro, he takes more handfuls of steps backwards, instinctively pushing talia, scarlett & jaime back another step. he hasn’t said anything to you, & neither eldritch makes a move to fight their friend. ciro just quietly watches the fight, which isn’t much of one to begin with. you turn towards kyler & forcefully kick his leg out from under him, watching his knee drop to the ground to break his fall. before he can stand up, you quickly land another spinning kick on the other side of kyler’s head with your right leg. the mortal can’t block or deflect the hit in time, & he crashes to the ground, quickly using his uninjured hand to break his fall. he doesn’t get up again.

the fourth & final student, nick, puts up a smidge more of a fight, but you’re downright terrifying as you block, dodge & counter every hit he tries to throw at you, your miyagi-do training kicking in. a kick is blocked with your leg, a punch deflected with your elbow, causing him to gasp in pain. an attempt to grab you is made, but you side-step out of the way, using your new position to elbow him in the jaw - just to piss him off. he takes a step back to recollect himself, but you reach forward, speed & long limbs always an advantage in a fight like this. you grab the sides of his head before he can react or shake himself out of your grip, yanking his head down while simultaneously bringing your right knee up, kneeing him square in the face. nick collapses into a heap, a hand instinctively covering his nose, which gushes blood. based on the sickening crunch, you broke it. good. you don’t stop there. as nick stumbles back, gasping in pain, you land a single hard kick to his chest. the shorter teen drops to his knees, & you watch him collapse onto his side, clearly in pain.

alex tries to get up again, but a very light, by your standards punch to his torso makes him drop to the ground again. he looks up at you with shock in his eyes, clutching his chest & groaning. he curls up into a ball.

you’re eerily calm as you survey the damage done. you say nothing. only ciro, scarlett, talia & jaime are standing. the teens on the ground are still groaning in pain, clutching their various injuries. big red’s nose is still gushing blood, but your knuckles remain entirely unscathed. kyler tries to stand up, but you kick him once in the back, coldly telling him to stay the fuck away from you & your friends. he groans, weakly cradling his sprained wrist closer to his chest instinctively. his face is twisted in agony. you don’t know if he heard you, but you wouldn’t mind kicking his ass again some time in the future. he’s definitely going to need a hospital, like the others on the ground, but you have no intention to call anyone. he can do that with the good hand he still has.

pathetic.

❝ don’t worry, kyler, ❞ you begin calmly, voice going from dead empty to faux gentle, but you’re unable to hide the disdain you feel for him, the DISAPPOINTMENT for him not putting up more of a fight against you, ❝ you & your buddies will heal in time for the all valley in two months… probably, anyway. but… if you’re up for round fifteen or what-fucking-ever round in the meantime, name your time & place. i’ll be there. oh, & go ahead & tell your friends at cobra kai what i did, too, if you feel like it. but i doubt anyone would believe you. ❞ you add as an afterthought, tone bored.

the tense, shocked silence that falls over the group of teens means nothing to you. you’re not even winded. your heartbeat is steady, & your breathing is normal. it’s like you didn’t just beat up four cobra kai members in record time. as expected, you felt nothing the entire time. you still don’t now.

❝ this isn’t you. ❞ talia breathes. you look up at her, eyes flickering between talia, scarlett, jaime & ciro with complete disinterest. ciro instinctively tenses, but his face is set in a grimace. you shrug you shoulders.

❝ no, it’s not. ❞ you agree with her on that front. your tone remains flat. you push past the four cobra kai members without a second thought or a glance. ciro says nothing, but he’s clearly a little shocked. you raising a hand to harm mortals like this in front of him… it’s terrifying, even if it’s warranted, because kyler started picking on you. although, a thought hits you. your dark brown eyes flicker down towards jaime, holding her gaze unflinchingly. your eyes are startling. there’s nothing there. not an inkling of warmth, or who you were trying to be. the chaotic but good-natured boy is dead. the karate war wounded him, but robby picking cobra kai was the final nail in the coffin for you, it seems like. your eyes are entirely devoid of emotion.

❝ do me a favor, jaime. tell the mighty, untouchable king cobra that if he wants revenge for hospitalizing his new friends, he knows where to fucking find me. ❞ you tell her, the words coated in venom that’s very unlike you. ( the sarcastic bite, however, is. ) with that said, you shove both of your hands into the pockets of your sweatshirt, continuing to walk down the sidewalk, leaving the stunned cobra kai members in the street.

[every-bad-thing]

You’re Not a Cockroach

( "messy bed" by hosullivan is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0. ) As you awoke one morning from uneasy dreams, you found yourself NOT transformed in your bed into a gigantic insect. You were still yourself. The only one, in fact, who was. Everyone else had become giant cockroaches. You thought at first it was just your family. Then you looked outside, at the streets teeming with human-size bugs, and thought maybe it was just your neighborhood. Then you looked at a few webcams online and hoped it was just your country. Then you went through every live news feed you could and concluded it was everyone. As far as you could tell, everyone in the world had become a giant cockroach. Except for you. No idea why. It just, apparently, is.

You don't seem to be in any danger at least. The cockroaches (the people?), despite being five to six feet long, aren't ravenous beasts or anything. They just move around, going about their lives. You're not sure whether they can understand you when you talk, if they even perceive you as what they used to be. You just generally leave each other alone. You try to learn as much as you can while the power plants still work and the Internet's still on. The event seemed to happen in the middle of the night, 2:45 a.m., based on what you see. That's the point where all activity stops, everywhere. You can't find a single social media post, a single video, a single forum topic, a single meme--nothing at all past that point, except for webcams that were left to stream. A few of them show it as it happened: someone would be talking about something or other and suddenly, in a flash of light, they're a cockroach, abandoning their laptops.

Power lasts for only two more days. You anticipated this. You'd read all about what to expect when civilization collapses. While the majority of it turned out to be entirely unsuited to the current situation, you at least knew things like how to make a fire, create a shelter, dress a wound, and cook a meal. Your bag is packed with survival gear, food, bandages, disinfectant, some over the counter medicine and a notebook. You put it on and go off into the world. You're looking for answers. Why is everyone else a cockroach? Why are you not? How can this be reversed? It's somewhere out there in the world, you think, a reason for all this.

( "Ghost city - Empty streets" by Malik_Braun is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0. ) You walk, bike, and sometimes (though only short distances before you hit some sort of roadblock) drive. You travel to abandoned government offices, full of moldy records and sterile labs. You travel to military bases, stuffed with weapons and overrun with crabgrass. You travel to holy places, and are filled with their silence. Nowhere do you find answers. You do find some interesting things, at least. You read through documents at the White House and learn which presidents had to undergo exorcisms and when. You find a giant mech suit in a naval yard, and have a little fun with it doing jumps. You discover the Vatican has already had the Holy Grail for a few hundred years at least. But nothing about the mass transformation of the entire world population into cockroaches, with the exception of you.

Years pass. Society moves on. Everyone, despite being giant insects, apparently are still intelligent. They were just, well, very surprised and panicked when they initially woke up that morning. Once they had time to calm down, things started to proceed. Since their old human mouths were out of the question, everyone figured out how to communicate using their new insect bodies, eventually relying on a combination of jaw clicks and wing vibrations to convey meaning. They didn't have hands anymore, so they couldn't use any of their old technologies, but they could they could manipulate some basic tools using just their legs, and with that created new technologies. Their digestive systems had changed, and that led to food changing too--restaurants began to open serving piles of what seems, to your mind, rotting garbage.

In just a few years, society had fully recovered. Not unchanged, though. Everything at this point is built for cockroaches. It's tough for you to get around because you can't stick to walls. It's tough to find food you can eat without getting sick. It's tough to even communicate, having to rely on crude pantomime the majority of the time. And it's beyond tough--it's practically impossible--to find work. You've moved back in with your family in the meanwhile. Well, more you just kind of showed up and all the roaches in the house (you're pretty sure this was your house...) seemed to let you stay. You've taken up residence in a small room upstairs. Life is, you have to admit, kind of depressing. There's no one to talk to. Nothing to do. The roaches don't really interact with you at all. You're just kind of there to them -- something they tolerate. Of course, you think, you could also be just projecting your feelings onto them since they can't communicate. Either way, it's not nice.

( "What Is A Cockroach Good For?" by Cockroach Facts is licensed under CC BY 2.0. ) You watch life go on. You can't understand a thing they're doing but on the news you see roaches huddled in stock markets, roaches running marathons, roaches walking down the red carpet, roaches debating in Congress, roaches flying drones to bomb other roaches thousands of miles away, and other signs of what, by some definitions, one might call civilization. This is all on a TV that's about two feet off the ground, in order to be eye level with roach viewers. The entire world is passing you by. You're never in danger, really. You're just not really part of the story anymore. Even as an extra. It's all roaches now. Or, more accurately, the people who became roaches. You wish, so hard, every night, to be a part of it. You always wake up, knowing you're not.

Until, as you awoke one morning from uneasy dreams, you find yourself transformed in your bed into a gigantic insect! Earlier this would have been the cause of much distress, but now it is for celebration! You take your new roach body out into the living room, where your family is sitting. They're just like you remember them. Human. They have the news on, everyone hunched downward to see the TV. Everyone who was a roach, apparently, has become human again. And as a giant roach, the only one in the world now, you sit and you think and you wonder why.

[mewtagen-mau]

Entry 2

I had barely began to drift off after writing my last entry when there was a knocking at my door. I drowsily asked who it was—Kyrsa replied. I opened the door and found the little ratfolk at my door with a box of chocolates. They offered me some. Apparently it had been on their bed. Probably some sort of thanks for saving the town. I took one and thanked Kyrsa, before returning to my makeshift king sized beg.

It felt weird not being in my own bed. The Rusty Dragon was not an uncomfortable inn, but any stretch of the imagination. But it still had that wrongness about it that sleeping away from home has. The bed was wrong, the dimensions of the room were wrong, even precisely how dark it was was wrong. It felt like the very air I was breathing was wrong. I wanted to be in my bed with my familiar sheets and my familiar pillows and my familiar lighting and the familiar creaking of the wood and none of the muffled voices of other guests downstairs.

Still, we don’t all get what we want. So I curled up and tried to go to sleep, despite the nagging wrongness of the room.

The next day I woke early, prepared my extracts, got some coffee downstairs to wake myself up, then took a walk. Specifically, I make my way back towards my old neighborhood. As I grew near, I used my Disguise Self extract to change my appearance to one less distinct than my true form. A half-elf man, as bland and forgettable as I could make him. Then I began asking questions. If people saw anything out of the ordinary around that area before the attack. If anyone had seen someone suspicious around Mau’s house.

People were happy to talk about ‘The Heroes of Sandpoint’—Father Zantus called us that yesterday and the title is spreading like a virus. People were enchanted by the idea of Kyrsa’s magic or a brave and noble paladin. They even spoke about me in this same manner, talking about how I’d actually drawn my blade and joined the fray. They almost made me sound like some mysterious sword master or something. The truth is hardly so glamorous.

Information about suspicious people in the streets was less plentiful than gossip about our little menagerie. Most people saw nothing, or things had been so chaotic they simply didn’t remember. I was about to give up, when finally a man gave me a little bit to work with. He told me that he’d seen a cloaked figure—about my height—near the building, surrounded by six goblins. He’d entered the house. But the man said he wasn’t entirely certain of what he’d seen—he tried to explain it to himself, saying it might have been me—as in me without the disguise which currently hid my identity from him—and maybe I was fleeing the goblins. Seeing as I’m me and I know that never happened, I know that we have a lead—albeit a very vague one. A cloaked figure of average height isn’t much to go off of, but it confirmed one thing—the evidence I’d found was accurate. Someone working with the goblins had without a doubt gone into my home and set it ablaze.

I returned to the Rusty Dragon—my disguise falling away on the way there—and found the others now awake and awaiting me in the common room. I told them where I’d been and what I’d learned. One of them asked me if I could think of anyone who had a grudge against me. I was honest when I said no. I couldn’t think of a single person in Sandpoint—or anywhere nearby—who would have reason to do this. Maybe if this were Korvosa and the person in question had a chip on their shoulder towards my mother. But we’re nowhere near Korvosa. I haven’t even given anyone my surname. And I obviously don’t look like her. So I sincerely doubt it could be connected in any way to Korvosa or my mother’s house.

We all discussed, and decided to go investigate the temple’s mausoleum.

At the temple we met with Father Zantus and Sheriff Hemlock. They explained that after the goblin attack, Father Zantus had found the door to the mausoleum ajar. The sheriff had asked him not to investigate until he had us on hand to help. Father Zantus seemed to think it had merely come open on its own, but the sheriff seemed to not trust anything about this entire ordeal.

The four of us went into the graveyard, and found Father Tobyn’s mausoleum—door open, as Father Zantus had described. We noticed a number of footprints in the mud. One set of human sized tracks and six pairs of goblinoid tracks. It matched the description I’d gotten this morning to a tee. We were on the right track. I moved forward cautiously, ears straining to hear anything.

Unfortunately what waited around the corner of the door didn’t breath and could stand perfectly still until the moment it struck—and so I was none the wiser until two skeletons leapt out at me, their jagged blades slicing and stabbing. I nearly fell to my knees, my bad leg nearly giving out then and there as I began losing far too much blood.

I saw a shining dart of magic fly past me and strike one of the skeletons—a magic missile courtesy of Kyrsa. The skeleton shuttered, as if the negative energy holding it together was about to come apart, but then it held firm despite the damage it sustained.

Which meant that a moment later two blades and two claws descended upon me. And the world went black.

What felt like an instant later, my eyes opened and I was on the ground, the metallic taste of blood mixed with the tang of a healing potion in my mouth. I was dizzy, and a little stiff, but other than my bad leg I didn’t feel any more pain anywhere. Every single wound the skeletons had inflicted had healed. Tabot was standing over me, the empty vial of Cure Moderate Wounds in his hand.

That potion was even more potent than I’d given it credit for.

I didn’t have much time to contemplate my brush with near death, as Nanel leapt over my prone form and into the mausoleum. The skeletons swung their blades at him, striking true. He swung around to try to smash the injured skeleton with his quarterstaff, but he misjudged and the skeleton knocked the blow away.

Kyrsa aimed a spell at the uninjured skeleton, casting Disrupt Undead. The skeleton was blasted by the anti-necromantic energy—but it managed to just barely hold itself together, just like its twin.

Now the skeletons had two targets: me and Nanel. One brought its blade down on me, but I rolled, only getting a small scratch from the jagged metal. Nanel didn’t fare as well. The remaining skeleton brought down its blade, and Nanel crumpled to the ground.

Nanel was in a precarious position, and it would be hard to get to him to heal him while those skeletons were still there. I decided that the best way to save him would be to get rid of the skeletons all at once, since they were both on their last legs. I took a gamble, and scrambled to my feet, leaving myself open to attack. They swung, but their blades only struck my armor. I darted back and then produced another explosive. This one I did not throw directly at one of the skeletons. I threw it at the ground between them, so that if I’d calculated the explosion correctly, they would both be caught in its radius.

It worked perfectly. Both skeletons were engulfed in flame and cremated.

With the danger gone, I went straight to Nanel’s side and used another Potion of Cure Light Wounds I’d made the day before to heal him.

With everyone alive and conscious, we looked around the mausoleum for clues. We found a used up Cloak of Bones—clearly where the skeletons had come from. We also found Father Tobyn’s casket.

Empty.

What use did goblins have for a priest’s corpse?

Kyrsa put words to the growing dread in my stomach when they said: the goblin raid with just a diversion.

Something bigger is afoot. And we’ve found ourselves right in the middle of it.