#start off with absolutely nobody and nothing that understood him

[dnangelic]

(finally able to put a floaty thought i've had into concise words) thematically it's great that dark isn't an actual angel because then he really does become undefinable and incomprehensible to everybody else. an angel is generally recognizable and readily digestible as a concept in people's minds and dark gives off every impression of one; the wings, the inhuman aspects, the grandeur, and yet he's still not one, which plummets him from any graph of divinity and the religious to the realm of the beast; the mysterious and the monstrous.

in other words, there isn't really ever an apt descriptor for what he is apart from vague ones, (let's see you try to encapsulate 'live artwork ripped in half whose out of control magic ended up imbued into the body and bloodline of humans as an entirely second set of DNA and second self' into a defining species---) and when people ask what he is, dark himself only calls himself a thief. he doesn't dare to try to call himself human (with his wings? his teeth, his eyes his talons?? he's obviously "not", and he's acutely aware of the fact too,) yet he doesn't want to go so far as to ever call himself a monster either out of respect for daisuke; his body and heart. (even if he can't stop others from judging or declaring him a monster, anyways.)

when it comes to dark and his 'existence' as something nonhuman, without counting company that gets close to either side, (for example, the rest of the arts like towa or argentine and baku, who are 'pure' live arts,) dark and daisuke truly do exist 'alone' as the sole members of their 'species,' excluding only hiwatari who can be in a friendly or antagonistic space, or other niwa ancestors like daiki or taize, who were once prior but no longer 'are' dark. "satan has his compansions and fellow devils to admire and encourage him, i am solitary and detested -" bittersweetly enough, the closest thing dark and daisuke ever are around others is either a strange monster or a strange human.

[fredwkong]

Genie: Pete’s Wishes

Pete was a little 20-year-old nerd who had just started interning for a big securities firm. He didn’t top 5’4”, even the extra-small button-up shirts looked baggy on his skinny body, and he seemed even smaller because of his habitual slouching posture. At his first day at work, his new boss yelled at him, causing him to have a panic attack in the bathroom.

That evening, he walked by a thrift store and decided to go in. He wasn’t making much money as an intern, but he wanted to buy something small to cheer himself up. He spotted a traditional brass lamp on the shelf, the kind that genies sometimes come out of. At $20, it was a bit pricey for a thrift store, but Pete grabbed it anyway. It would make a cool conversation piece, if nothing else.

Once he got home, Pete started trying to clean the lamp, which caused it to begin glowing and convulsing until a cloud of smoke billowed out. As the smoke dissipated, it revealed an absolute muscle man of a genie. He wore tiny daisy dukes on his striated thighs, along with a top cropped just above his big, dark nipples. The genie stroked his finely cropped beard as he looked down at Pete.

“So, babe, here’s the deal,” said the genie. “You make the wishes, and I’ll turn them up to eleven.” He looked over Pete’s tiny body and cringing posture again, and curled his lip. “And girl, let’s make those wishes count. We have a lot of work to do here.”

“Um, uh.” The only thing in Pete’s head was the moment earlier that day when his boss had yelled at him. “I… wish I was more assertive?”

The genie smirked. “Good idea.” With a snap of his fingers, the genie filled the room with purple smoke. As Pete inhaled it, he felt like it shot right up into his brain, filling in spaces he hadn’t known were there. He suddenly realised that the way to get ahead in life was to be decisive and commanding. His posture uncurled, and his gaze became sharper. No one was ever going to overlook him or yell at him again.

The smoke also embedded itself in his throat, and he coughed, letting out a much deeper, more resonant sound than he had been capable of before. He now had a thunderous bass voice, a sound that was impossible for anyone to ignore.

Pete met the genie’s eyes for the first time. “Thanks,” he thundered, his new voice incapable of whispering.

The genie gave him an ironic salute. “Come back tomorrow for another wish, babe.”

The next day, no one was able to ignore Pete. He walked with power in spite of his tiny body, and nobody could ignore him when he spoke up to his boss in a meeting in his booming new voice. However, with his tiny stature and ill-fitting suit, they laughed off his advice. When he got home, Pete summoned the genie again, filled with righteous rage.

“Genie,” he roared, “I wish I had the cash to really show up my coworkers.”

“On it, babe,” said the genie, and snapped his fingers. It seemed for an instant as if nothing had changed. Then Pete got a notification on his phone. “You should check that.”

Pete had received an email from someone who said they were his secretary, informing him that his company had closed a deal to trade stocks for a multibillionaire client. Pete was a high-powered stockbroker. As he saw the number of zeroes on his contract, he felt another rush of knowledge into his mind. He knew exactly how to play the market, buying and selling to make sure that he and his clients ended every day with more money than they started with. He wrote a terse reply to his secretary:

“Understood. See you tomorrow. Peters.”

For a moment, he wondered why he had written that name. His name was… Peters, of course. Just like the exclusive boarding school where he’d first started day trading, he still preferred to go by his surname, but kept it casual by dropping any honourific.

“Enjoy those millions, darling,” said the genie, vanishing back into his lamp.

The next day was an exhausting one for Peters. He had the money, he was the boss, and he had an assertive attitude and booming voice, but he was still a shrimpy kid in his early 20s. Clients raised their eyebrows when a short young guy walked into the boardroom to present, and the secretaries, most of whom were older than him, seemed to resent Peters’ success and advantages.

When he summoned the genie, Peters was ready with the wish he had been thinking about all day. “I wish I was truly impressive.”

The genie grinned wide. “Absolutely, master,” he said, and snapped his fingers again. Another thick cloud of purple smoke emerged from the lamp, and this time it cocooned Peters’ entire body. He felt his clothes dissolve, leaving him naked. As he inhaled the smoke, Peters felt years of experience fill his mind. His already deep and assertive voice dropped a few more steps, gaining an imposing rasp.

As the smoke sank into Peters’ skin, he transformed. His black hair went grey, styling itself into a precise, stylish look. His face aged until he looked like a handsome man in his late 40s, with piercing eyes and a stylish grey beard. His whole body filled out as his height shot past 6 feet, bulked up with perfectly maintained muscle. His little cock thickened and lengthened as his pubes lightened to grey, becoming an impressive third leg with churning balls to match. Finally, the last of the smoke coalesced into a scattering of grey hair over his chest, back, and legs, and an immaculate blue suit.

Mr. Peters, the 49-year-old stockbroker, nodded to the genie. “Good work,” he rumbled, testing out the sound of his new, even more thunderous voice.

“Oh, I’m not done yet, master,” the genie purred, and clapped. The hotel room Mr. Peters had moved to with his newfound millions the previous night was immediately replaced with a huge, well-appointed penthouse. Instinctively, Mr. Peters moved to the humidor he kept next to the genie’s lamp. He expertly trimmed and lit a cigar, enjoying the luxurious flavour.

The genie looked him and the penthouse over one more time, and nodded. “See you tomorrow, sir,” he cooed, and blew a kiss to Mr. Peters as he vanished.

The next day, Mr. Peters was on fire. He closed several deals for his company, making himself and his clients even more money, and got taken out for dinner by the director of a competing corporation attempting to headhunt him. The power got him hard, and he was pent-up with a raging boner by the time he got home to make his wish.

“I don’t have time for any dating,” he told the genie brusquely. “I wish for a husband to fuck right now.”

“Order up,” the genie said, laughing, and snapped his fingers.

On the street outside, Larsen was looking for his friend Pete. They had been good school friends, both being little nerds, but Pete had suddenly stopped answering his messages a few days ago, and then seemed to have been scrubbed from existence. No one else remembered him, and people kept mentioning someone named Mr. Peters instead!

Just as Larsen was about to ask one of the building’s valet parking attendants if she knew a Pete living at this address, he felt a tug, as if someone had grabbed him around his belly, and he was suddenly in a dimly lit room. Outside the window was an exquisite view of the city, while inside of the room was a stern-looking man in a suit alongside a dark-skinned man dressed like a slutty himbo.

As the genie continued his work, Larsen became surrounded by a cloud of pink smoke. His muscles grew, his skin became porcelain smooth, and everything about him became classically handsome, like a perfect statue of a man. He grew to a respectable height, still shorter than Mr. Peters, and his dick swelled up, but not quite as large either. Instead, his ass grew into a pair of fuckable, jiggly globes that would be visible no matter what he wore.

The last of the pink smoke shot up Larsen’s nose and into his brain, rewiring him into a dumb himbo slut. Lars had been a German model until Mr. Peters had approached him after a show and offered to give him a luxurious life as his arm candy husband. They had a good enough relationship, and Mr. Peters—Sir—was a good, dominant Daddy, which Lars liked. What made their marriage really special, though, was that while Sir was at work, Lars went and picked up boys for the two of them to share. It was the only way he could get enough fucking during the day to keep up with his unbelievable sex drive.

“Guten Abend, Daddy,” Lars said, as the genie released him. “The boys are waiting in the second bedroom for us.” He stepped up in front of Mr. Peters and undid his tie and top button before Mr. Peters grabbed him by the back of his head and kissed him forcefully. A moment later, Lars led Mr. Peters out of the room and to the designated sex den, his bared dick leading the way.

The genie watched them leave. If he stayed any longer, the former Pete was likely to ask for something boring and unsexy like world domination, so it was probably time for him to put his lamp in the gym bag of one of the horny himbos Lars and Mr. Peters were fucking.

Idea with assistance from a bot of my creation.

Click here to see the genie’s next master.

Click here to see all the genie’s adventures.

[mer-acle]

Sup, I’m in ur inbox again 🥳 because the idea of how Zeus would have gotten Apollo to like- not help Athena was intriguing to me I ended up writing like- a tiny lil thing with Bad Parent Zeus at his absolute finest

The first two people to rush towards Athena after she passed out were Ares and Apollo, but as soon as they were close Zeus held out a hand, glaring at his two sons, “Away, both of you.”

“Father-” Ares started

“I said, away, Ares.”

The war god bit his tongue. He knew he wasn’t anywhere near his father’s favorite and after what he’d just done to Athena he wasn’t going to deny being scared of angering the king of gods, but Apollo on the other hand seemed to not hold any fear at the time. His concern for Athena’s life pushing that away, “Father, Athena needs help we can’t possibly just leave her there!” Apollo protested, looking at his father with pleading eyes. He didn’t have the best relationship with Zeus either, the sky god preferring his twin sister over him more often than not, but this wasn’t about how much Zeus cared for him. It was about how much Zeus cared for Athena. Which may not be as much as everyone thought.

Ares distantly thought, foolish Apollo, father hates being tested, especially when he’s in a bad mood.

True to his personality Zeus violently grasped the archery god by the wrist, holding him up off the ground and glaring, “Do not tell me what I can and cannot do Apollo.”

“But-”

Lightning crackled in Zeus’ other hand which was now raised above Apollo, “But?” He challenged, daring the younger, terrified god to speak

Apollo didn’t say anything.

Ares didn’t say anything.

Nobody else said anything. Except Zeus, who yanked Apollo closer to him and growled in his ear, “You are forbidden from aiding her. She dug this grave by herself and she will lay in it”

Apollo could barely nod in response.

“Am I understood, Phoebus Apollo?”

“Yes- Y-Yes father.”

Zeus threw his son to the ground before addressing the rest of the gods present, “all of you begone! Go about your days!”

All the other gods began to migrate out of the arena, going back to whatever they were doing before. Ares helped Apollo up from the ground and walked with him until they found Artemis and the two twins went off elsewhere leaving Ares to spare one more glance at Zeus standing over Athena’s broken body before he left to go find Aphrodite.

Zeus decided he would go tell Hermes to free that mortal man after getting Athena to her room. The thunder god felt no guilt as he picked up his eldest daughter’s body, her golden blood staining his hands and clothing. She was burning hot to the touch and the gruesome scars from the lightning bolts almost ran down to the bone, but still, he was guiltless for it all. Athena had brought her suffering upon herself with her own insolence. She deserved this. And it was not as if Zeus wasn’t still completing his end of the deal, her mortal would go free and be given a final chance to return home. He had done nothing wrong, he never did anything wrong.

Does this make sense? Absolutely NOT was it fun making Zeus a bad father as per usual? YES 😼

Hi Vicky :)

She dug this grave herself and she will lie in it

Girl! 😭 /Pos

I love Apollo being so in his domain that he's not even afraid initially

Now I kinda imagine Zeus carrying Athena and she wakes up still in his arms... no matter how she reacts it would be HEARTBREAKING (is this a request... I mean if you want to it totally is lol)

Also getting fanfic based on fanfic I've written is the most surreal experience I swear 😭 thank youuu

I love this sm

[30somethingautisticteacher]

Fuck it Friday

I'm fairly new to fic writing so nobody tagged me but I'm doing it anyway! 🙂

***

For Buck, there wasn't one specific moment where he knew that he wanted to marry Tommy. To him, their whole relationship had been a series of important moments that left Buck more hopeful every day. From the moment Tommy kissed him, his whole world was altered. Tommy Kinard walked into Evan Buckley's life, and everything changed.

It only took eight weeks for Buck to realize that he was in love with Tommy. But he had felt it even earlier. He remembered vividly how his heart raced and desire coursed through him when Tommy walked through those hospital doors in his soot-covered turnout gear, smelling of smoke, and apologizing profusely for not being there sooner. In that heated moment, any lingering hesitation Buck felt about being attracted to men melted away. Tommy really was a beast and Buck felt a deep yearning to hold onto him tightly and never let go.

The next time Buck allowed himself to hope for a forever with Tommy was on a typical, unremarkable day. Buck had spent the night at Buck's, not for the first time but it still felt new and exciting. Buck and Tommy were snuggling in bed, Buck wondering if it were somehow possible to meld their two bodies together. They were interrupted, however, by the distinctive buzzing of Buck's phone. "It's Maddie. I have to answer," Buck said apologetically. "Of course, Evan, talk to your sister," Tommy replied with a smile. God, he is so amazing, Buck thought, not for the first time.

"Hey Mads," Buck answered. "Oh thank God you picked up! I have an emergency!" Buck's heart skipped a beat.

"Chim took an extra shift, and my shift starts in an hour. The Lees were supposed to watch Jee, but Anne's sister is in the hospital, so they can't anymore. I know you're off and probably enjoying time with your hot pilot boyfriend, but can you please, please watch Jee for me?" Maddie said in one breath.

"Well Mads, first of all, you're a first responder. You should know better than to use 'emergency' so casually!" Evan scolded. "And secondly, of course I'll watch Jee. I've missed her lately. I'd love some Uncle Buck time!"

"You're an absolute lifesaver! Are you sure Tommy won't mind?" Maddie asked.

Buck hesitated for a split second. "No, I'm sure he'll be fine with it, and I really want them to get to know each other."

"I'll drop Jee off in twenty minutes. You are seriously the best little brother," Maddie said before hanging up.

Tommy seemed enthusiastic about Jee coming over, but Buck knew him well enough to sense the underlying nervousness and reservation he was clearly feeling. Buck understood that Tommy hadn't been around kids much. He had recently revealed that he was the youngest of three, with his brother and sister being 12 and 14 years older than him, respectively. Tommy called himself an "oops baby" and alluded to that being part of the reason his childhood was so difficult. His parents had wanted to retire and travel the world but instead felt saddled with a child whom they viewed as nothing but a burden.

However, despite Tommy's lack of experience with kids, he was a natural. Jee warmed up to him immediately, despite having only met him briefly before. Buck grinned as he watched his boyfriend having a tea party with his niece, before allowing her to paint his nails a shocking pink. When Maddie arrived a few hours later, Jee couldn't stop talking about "Uncle Tommy" and asking when she could have her next playdate with him and Uncle Buck. Buck beamed with pride and happiness, scarcely able to contain his overwhelming joy.

Buck knew tonight was the night to have the crucial conversation with Tommy. "Hey Tom?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"What's up?" Tommy replied.

"Seeing you with Jee today was pretty eye-opening, and I just have to know." Buck swallowed. "Do you want kids someday?"

Tommy smiled at him. "Evan, if you'd asked me that a year ago, I probably would have said no." Evan raised his eyebrows. "But that was before I met an amazing partner who was born to be a dad." Tommy gently took Buck's hand. "With you, sweetheart, yes, I definitely want to have kids."

Buck's face lit up with a beaming smile, his eyes shining. "Really? You mean that?"

"I've never been more sure of anything," Tommy said, pulling Buck into an embrace. "You and me, Evan Buckley, we're going to make an incredible family."

Buck lay in bed that night, his mind drifting to thoughts of the future with Tommy. He had always known he wanted kids, but with previous partners, it had seemed like an impossible dream. Now, visions of bake sales and little league games danced in his head. He pictured birthday parties and backyard barbecues with the 118 family. Swim lessons, dance recitals, all the milestones played out in his imagination.

"The Kinard family," he whispered to himself with a smile, tightening his embrace around Tommy's sleeping form. The name felt right, like the final puzzle piece clicking into place.

In that moment, Buck's heart overflowed with a sense of contentment and eager anticipation for the life they would build together. With Tommy by his side, that future vision of love, laughter, and little ones no longer seemed like a distant dream. He pressed a tender kiss to Tommy's forehead, whispering, "I can't wait."

[paviastrashyrings]

can i request a horropedia x reader with the “rude to everyone but loving to their partner” trope? (reader is the rude one)🫶🏻 male reader if possible

More of the lovely Nerdy Nerd? How could i possibly say no. Thank you for your submission and it is absolutely my pleasure to serve you. (side note: could not be more on the nail for how i am irl)

Without further ado, dear readers, lets get into another dream with Horropedia.

You were...rough around the edges, so to speak. Uncaring and cold towards most people.

If someone touched you, you'd snap at them. If someone came at you with an attitude, you'd match it.

Everyone associated with you was used to your foul mouth and bad mood.

Except one person, of course.

He had never understood why everyone spoke so poorly of your behavior until he witnessed first hand how "grouchy" you were with others.

"Hes not so bad." he'd try to defend you, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish smile.

"Dude he literally insulted me to my face because I bumped into him." one coworker recalls, angered by the mere memory.

It wasnt like you were trying to be mean, people just dont have spatial awareness.

They were right there.

Nothing pushed them into you.

They didn't even trip.

They just were dumb and didn't look where they were going. That's on them.

He would listen to you recall your side of the story, your tone soft and even because it was him.

"We really gotta work on your...people skills." he hums, but in complete honesty he was impressed how you were so able to stand your ground.

One day, someone decided to really push their luck. Yapping about how annoying "that weirdo, horropedia or whatever that guys name is" was.

Safe to say you were pissed, and he was in their direct vicinity too.

once you noticed that he was RIGHT THERE being spoken ill about?

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" you spat with malice, turning around so fast people would assume you were facing them the whole time.

You went off of them, until Joshua stepped in, equally shocked but also mildly amused by the expression on the culprits face.

"woah hey, no need to get angry." There was full and ardent need to get angry, they just insulted him to his face and he was just gonna take that? hell no, not on your damn watch.

He turns around and politely apologizes to the culprit, "So sorry about that, hes trying to work on his temper.."

He guides you away, still secretly impressed by your anger. Nobody really ever defended him like that, especially in front of a whole establishment full of people.

"I mean seriously can you believe them? Talking shit about you like that in front of you?" you'd start almost as soon as the culprit was out of earshot, just to keep him happy. You wouldn't have cared if they had heard you, you already spat so much profanity in their direction anyways.

"You know it happens all the time, I'm not exactly a stranger to it." which you couldn't understand. How does he tolerate such blatant disrespect, I mean sure he's a little strange and nerdy but that doesn't hurt anyone.

"Yeah but you don't deserve that, you didn't even do anything." you'd murmur, looking away. You look like a scolded dog, which he thought was adorable.

What he didn't remark on was the clear difference in how you spoke to others and how you spoke to him.

you were still frustrated, temper still on high, and yet you held back profanity and sulked instead of snapping at him.

He definitely noticed though, you were so sweet to him that it was hard not to notice.

He'll let you off for just this once, but the next time he catches you he'll have to scold you properly.

He won't admit that he's enjoying the special treatment, he's happy you care about him so much.

but maybe tone it down a little?

Only sometimes though

Well, this one was very fun to write. Thank you once again, dear readers, your support and kind words mean the world. We will dream once again, come find me soon <3. signed, yours forever Moon.

[choppersconfirmedkills]

Family

Pairing: Bad Batch x Platonic! Former Jedi! Reader

Word Count: 645

Genre: Absolute fluff, pure goodness

Warnings: Bad Batch antics

Day 4 of the New Years Drabble Series! Randomly timed in celebration of the premier of the new season!

“Alright, let’s go ‘Mega, got to do your hair,” you called out, patting the spot in front of you.

“Can you do it just like yours?” Omega asked, eyes twinkling.

“We can see. Your hair is a bit short, but I’ll try my best.” Across the ship, you heard a loud thud, causing both you and the young one in front of you to freeze. You didn’t bother to look up knowing that it was just normal chaos, and continued brushing Omega’s hair

“Wrecker!” Echo yelled. “You keep swinging your big head around like that and you’ll destroy the ship!

“My ship,” Tech pointed, never tearing his view away from in front of him.

“Come on Echo. My head’s not that big,” Wrecker pouted.

“It is significantly larger than any of our heads. At least an inch large in circumference.” Tech added.

“Why do you use such big words, nobody understands them,” Wrecker said.

“I think everyone understood that. There’s no need to be so emphatic about it.”

“See again! Did any of you understand that? Hunter? Y/N?” Wrecker whipped around to ask. 

“No comment,” you responded. Hunter just rolled his eyes. The argument continued, you zoned it out and went back to Omega’s hair.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You looked down at the little girl in front of you.

“What was your family like?” Omega asked.

“Why do you ask?” You continued, starting a braid in her hair.

“Well, it’s just that I have my brothers, they’re my family, and I wonder what yours must have been like.”

“As you know, I was a Jedi. The Jedi are taken when they are very young to learn the ways of the force. So I never knew my family, all I knew were the Jedi. At times it could be very lonely. We were told not to form attachments. All we had was the Force. I thought about looking for my family, but I never did.  And then once upon a time, I was assigned to this rag-tag group of clones. They were loud and rambunctious. They never really cared for rules which was the opposite of what I was used to, but it was refreshing. They were strong and they moved concisely, never failing in completing a mission. They claimed it was because of their abilities but the truth was, it was because of how close they were. They could communicate, even if most of the time it was to scream at one another.” Omega laughed. Looking up at the argument that was still going on, now including Hunter. “I stayed because there was something about the group. And they took me in. We fought together, laughed together, and cared for one another. They protected me when Order 66 happened. And then I realized I didn’t need to look for my family, it was right in front of me.”

“But how are they your family if you don’t share blood?” Omega asked, looking up at you.

“Something I learned from them. Family has nothing to do with relation but is instead all about the love and care you have for one another.” You paused looking down at Omega’s finished hair. “All done!” You patted her shoulder. Omega bolted up and ran straight toward the chaos, desperate to show off her new hair.

“Guys! Look at my hair! Y/N did it! And they told me all about their family!” You smiled at her antics.

“Family?” Echo called out.

“Jedi don’t have family,” Tech answered.

“You never told us about your family!” Wrecker again pouted.

“Well clearly it was not pertinent at the time, so they didn’t need to tell us nor did they want to,” Tech added.

“Didn’t we just talk about you using big words nobody understands?” Wrecker cried out, and another argument ensued and Omega just turned around to you and winked.

Your family.

[mrsaltieri-real]

Alright! Request time! Lemme get a request with Mickey, natch, but hear me out. You and he, catching a mid-afternoon movie for a date, starts off sweet, and the theater is empty except for you both. He cannot keep his hands off you when twenty minutes after the trailers happen he realizes no one else is showing up. He teases and touches till you give in and let him fuck you in the theater. Some risky, public, try to keep it down, don't get caught sex in the theater. Passionate, needy, messy, some begging, make it so, so good just like I know you will.

When Boredom Strikes (Mickey Altieri x Fem!AFAB!Reader)

You and Mickey have an afternoon date at the movies, but boredom quickly consumes him, forcing him to find alternate ways to entertain himself.

Word Count: 3k

Warning/s: language, smut, p in v, slight degradation, fingering, public/semi public sex, praise, begging, almost caught fucking, teasing, thirsty Mickey, riding, ect.

Bex Bex BEX. You know damn well what this request has done to me these last couple of days. I’m happy to oblige. Here we go!

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Mickey stood with his arm casually slung around your shoulder as he eyed the movie options up on the board, pulling a face at every single one of them. “Fuck, there’s really no halfway decent movies.”

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend, looking up at his dramatically disgusted face. “Well, whose bright idea was it to ditch class to come watch a movie in the middle of the afternoon, Mick?”

He glanced down at you, his pretty brown eyes playfully amused and a smile lit up his face as he lifted your chin with his finger, ducking his head down to peck you lightly on the lips, in which you eagerly reciprocated. “We missed our last date because I had to edit my short film and you’ve got a packed schedule for the rest of this week so I didn’t really have much of a choice now, did I?” He pointed out, reluctantly moving his face away from yours.

You nodded your head a little as you looked up at the board yourself, eyes scanning the cheesy rom com movies, every single one of them containing the exact same main plot point of a girl who didn’t realise love was right there all along. You knew Mickey hated these sort of movies with a passion, claiming they had no depth and no entertainment value whatsoever.

Being with a film geek like Mickey meant you were subjected to listen to his intensely angry ramblings about how cinema was quote “going down fucking hill,” and how there’s “nothing like the classics anymore.” You’d listen to him with a cocked eyebrow and watch him as he would rifle through his seemingly never ending cases of illegally pirated films that varied from action to mystery then to his personal favourite, horror.

As much as you loved him, you never quite understood his affliction with horror movies. Sure, you enjoyed them, but you’d see the intense excitement in his eyes as he watched some blonde girl with big tits get brutally butchered and ripped apart and you’d listen to him rant about the “authenticity” of the production value with blank but affectionate eyes. Nobody could say that he wasn’t passionate.

The theatre attendant sighed, her nails drumming impatiently on the counter as she stared unseeingly past the two of you with a bored expression. Mickey glanced at her, unable to stop the small roll of his eyes at her attitude.

“Just pick one and we’ll watch it. And choose fast because this one’s about to fall asleep.” Mickey said to you under his breath, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. You knew better than to offer to pay, knowing you’d be met with a disgusted look of horror at the very idea of you wanting to pay for absolutely anything.

You loosely gestured to the least sappy looking movie for his benefit, secretly relieved you didn’t have to sit through yet another bloody mess of a film and Mickey paid the attendant and took the tickets as she mumbled, “enjoy your movie,” He nodded his head at her politely and picked up the popcorn and drinks, begrudgingly making his way into the theatre with a grimace on his face at the thought of having to sit in the freezing theatre for two hours and watch this god awful movie. But as he walked toward the theatre doors, popcorn under one arm and you under the other, he noticed how deserted the place was. Just you, himself and 3 attendants in the entire place. He smiled a little to himself, knowing full well he could have a lot of fun with this little benefit when the boredom would truly take over.

As you both settled down in your assigned seats beside each other Mickey placed the popcorn by next to his feet, leaning back on the chair with his eyes scanning the room. Just as he’d hoped, it was completely deserted apart from the two of you. He glanced at your face, the smile still on his lips as you looked back at him, asking him in a suspicious tone, “what?”

“Nothing, nothing.” He said, diverting his eyes from you and to the large screen as the trailers began to play.

“Give me my popcorn.” You said, holding out your hand expectantly.

“No, no, absolutely not.” Mickey shook his head as he spoke, pushing your hand away gently.

“What? Why?”

“Baby, you always finish your popcorn before the movie even starts and what happens? Oh, Mickey.” He mocked your voice in an absolutely terrible impression, twirling imaginary hair around his finger as he spoke. “I finished all my popcorn, give me yours.” He looked at you with knowing eyes and a playful smile on his lips as he dropped his hand back down onto the arm rest. “Just wait for the opening titles at least.” He said in his normal voice.

“You think you know me so well. I don’t fucking sound like that. Ass.” You grumbled under your breath, slumping back in your seat with a pout. He laughed at you affectionately, reaching for your hand and bringing it up to his lips, kissing it gently.

“Huh, guess it’s just us.” You mused as you watched one of the attendants close the theatre doors, leaving just you and Mickey in the large dark room with nothing but the glowing light of the screen shining down on the two of you.

“Guess it is.” Mickey said lightly, shifting in his seat and dropping your hand in favour of resting his palm on the smooth bare skin of your thigh, his fingers lightly tracing shapes and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

This wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Mickey was big on casual physical contact, especially whilst watching movies. The cheerful opening of the movie caught your attention and your eyes set on the screen, deciding to make the most of your date together by actually enjoying the movie, even if he didn’t.

Twenty minutes into the film and Mickey was bored out of his mind. You seemed engrossed with the movie, shushing Mickey every couple of minutes when he tried to talk to you or complain about the “god awful” film.

“This is so fucking sh-“

You swatted at his arm lightly, shushing him once again and he groaned, slumping back in his seat and letting his head fall backward against the soft material of the chair. The two dimensional characters seemed to mock him through the screen as the actors paraded around with an awful performance. He physically recoiled as he heard the cheesy lines being spoken.

Nobody fucking talks like that. He thought to himself with a grimace.

He began to think of what he could do to make this date a little more interesting. He quickly scanned the theatre double checking the room once again to make sure it was empty before his fingers slowly danced across your thigh, casually moving in between your legs.

He chuckled a little as you slapped his hand, pinning your legs together as you sent him a small glare. “No, Mickey.” You said as sternly as you could muster. He looked at you completely unphased and raised an eyebrow, but said absolutely nothing.

One of Mickey’s favourite pastimes is fooling around with you in semi-public places. Semi-public was okay, semi-public was fun and exciting. It was even encouraged. There was only a risk of being caught. You knew exactly what he was thinking at the moment, what he wanted to do. But doing it here, in the middle of a movie theatre? That was a little too risky for your liking. You felt his hand move back to your thigh after a couple of seconds, still tracing small shapes onto your skin with a feather light touch. You clenched your teeth, staring at the screen to try and focus on the movie again, but now that felt almost impossible.

How the fuck did he always manage to do this to you? Completely divert your attention and make you focus explicitly on him and what you wanted him to do to you? The fact he didn’t even need to speak in order for you to waver on your insistence not to fuck him in a movie theatre was almost making you angry with yourself and your lack of ability to stand by your decisions.

He waited until you relaxed your rigid stance and your legs unstiffened, his fingers still grazing your skin gently before he made another much slower move. His fingers hardly even touched you as he lightly brushed your inner thigh. He smiled to himself a little when he heard your breath hitch a little and felt you look up at him with imploring eyes. He made sure his eyes were still set on the screen as if he was completely sucked into the crappy movie. You looked down at his hand, tugging at your bottom lip with your teeth as it moved upward underneath your skirt, feeling his fingertips glide up your inner thigh, your legs opening for him as though they had a mind of their own before feeling him very lightly grazing your clit through the soft cotton material of your already damp panties.

You shifted a little, fingers digging into the dark red upholstery of the arm of the chair, your legs instinctively inching even wider for him and you heard him let out a small, satisfied laugh as he felt the damp patch.

Fuck.

“Look who's changed her mind.” He murmured softly under his breath. You ignored him, eyes fluttering closed as you felt him move your panties to the side, his index finger slowly sliding up the length of your slit to collect moisture before torturously circling your clit with a pace that was so slow, so light, that it was almost painful. He let out another chuckle as he felt the heat on his fingers and heard the small whimper fall out from between your lips, his eyes still not moving from the screen.

Your head fell back against your seat as his fingers gradually increased speed, circling over your clit in the way he knew drove you crazy, but not quite applying enough pleasure for you to genuinely enjoy it. Mickey shifted a little in his seat so he was leaning toward you, eyes finally dragging away from the screen and to your face, watching you with dark and almost amused eyes as your chest heaved and your grip on the armrest tightened so hard your knuckles turned white. His fingers suddenly abandoned your clit in favour of plunging two of them knuckle deep into your pussy and causing you to let out a loud, unfiltered moan.

“Shh.” He whispered to you, his free hand covering your mouth as he continued to move his long fingers inside of you, hooking and curling them to graze the spot inside of you that was bound to make you cum sooner rather than later if he carried on.

Your eyes nervously flickered around the room again, terrified you’d missed a spectator in one of the chairs that would turn around and find some girl getting fingered by her boyfriend in the middle of a movie theatre. Of course there was no one, but his free hand remained on your mouth as he leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek and before resting his forehead on your temple.

“You gotta be quiet, okay?“ he said in your ear, another twist of his fingers inside of you causing you to moan against his hand in response. His fingers abruptly stopped moving, frozen inside of you and you looked at him in desperate confusion as his other hand moved from your mouth to slide down behind your head, gripping your hair firmly by the roots and forcing you to look into his eyes. “Do you promise you’ll be quiet?” He whispered, hand dropping from your mouth so you could respond.

“Mmm- mm yes.” You gasped out, your voice pleading and almost whiny as you bucked your hips against his hand, desperate to feel friction again. “Please, Mickey.”

“Look at you.” He said tauntingly. “Twenty minutes ago you were slapping my hand away and now here you are, dripping down my arm and begging for me to get you off in the middle of a movie theatre.”

He suddenly pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them up and pressing them against your lips. You eagerly took his fingers into your mouth, sucking your own arousal off of them eagerly. He let out somewhat of a growl as he felt your tongue swirl around his fingers as you greedily tasted yourself and he quickly glanced behind him at the door before he slid his fingers out of your mouth slowly to unbuckle his belt. As he did, you were almost too eager to drop to your knees so you could blow him but he stopped you with his hand, shaking his head once whilst saying, “No, no,” and pulling his jeans and briefs down so his cock was just about out, already hard and pressed against his toned stomach. “Panties off, leave the skirt on.”

Your eyes widened a little as you hesitated, glancing up at the theatre doors. Mickey followed your gaze and rolled his eyes a little at you. “What, so you’re fine letting me finger your pussy here but you don’t want to fuck? Come on now, baby.”

You could hear the sarcasm in his voice and you scowled at him, but obediently removed your panties, discarding them on the floor by your feet.

“Good girl.” Mickey grinned at you, looking victorious as he grabbed your arm as soon as they were off, practically yanking you onto his lap. You straddled him with your knees either side of him, just about hovering over him as you felt the flushed head of his cock lightly graze your swollen clit, the sensation so slight yet so intense it sent a small shiver throughout your entire body. Mickey felt it too, sighing a little as he felt you just barely touching him.

The light of the huge screen dully illuminated the two of you as Mickey hitched your skirt around your waist before sliding his hands around to grip your ass, spreading you open for him as he angled his hips up, groaning quietly as he slowly began filling you. You let out a gasp that was a little too loud at the satisfying stretch, causing Mickey to stop abruptly, gripping your hips so you couldn’t move.

“What did I say?”

“I- I’m sorry, please don’t stop.” You begged him as quietly as you could. He could feel your body trembling with need and he couldn’t help but oblige you.

His eyes remained on your face, though you were hardly visible in the dim light of the screen and he smiled at your desperate expression before continuing to push up into you, sighing in satisfaction at the familiar feeling of your pussy clenching around him as he did. You angled your hips downward, impatient at his slow pace so you could envelop him completely and almost too eagerly. The thrill of fucking him in a public place where a stranger could walk in at any given moment and see the two of you was more exciting than you had anticipated, your earlier anxiety and concerns becoming nothing more than a distant and irrelevant memory. It made you more eager and hungry for him, more than you could have even begun to imagine. It took Mickey by surprise as he let out a small, breathless laugh as your hips rolled against him, thoroughly enjoying the reluctantly quiet moans you were panting in his ear.

“Such a whore.” He whispered into your hair, sliding one of his hands up your back and gripping the back of your neck under your hair. The sound of his voice in your ear as you rode him sent tingles through your body, spurring you on. “Look at you, riding me like a slut in the middle of a movie theatre, fucking acting like you didn’t want this the whole time. Bad fucking girl.” You groaned at his words, throwing your head back and moving your hands to rest behind you on his thighs, feeling the familiar need for him to take control. He obliged you once again, his hands resting your waist and holding you still as he began to grind his hips upwards and fuck deep into you, treating you as if you were his very own sex doll.

You almost cried out, turning your head and biting into the soft skin of your shoulder as you felt him thrust up into you, feeling his cock hitting all of the right places. You felt the slight stubble of his trimmed hair prick and grind over your clit, stimulating you perfectly as your nails dug into his thighs, making him let out a small hiss and grind up into you even faster, watching intently as your tits bounced from behind your thin tank top.

Your body was held still in his firm grip with your only movements being a reaction from him as he fucked you to his own accord as you tried hard not to make too loud of a sound. One of his hands moved from your waist to slide between the two of you, his thumb applying pressure to your clit and moving in small, calculated circles. His head fell forward to watch himself sliding in and out of your convulsing pussy, groaning as he felt you clench and tighten around him. He knew you were close to cumming when he felt your legs start to shake beside him and he knew he was close too. Just watching you with your mouth biting into your own shoulder to stop yourself from screaming as he fucked up into you in the middle of the day in a movie theatre was driving him insane, and he didn’t feel the need to prevent your impending orgasm or his own, the need to tease you disappeared in favour of feeling you cum on his dick.

Your head lifted from your shoulder and you looked at him, panting desperately with wide eyes. “I- I’m gonna- p- please can I-“

Mickey suddenly let out a sharp gasp and quickly grabbed you by your arms that were still propping you up by your hands on his thighs and hastily pulled you toward him, gently but quickly turning you around so you were sitting on his lap and he tugged at the end of your skirt so it covered the sight of his dick still stuffed inside of you. You frowned a little in surprise at the sudden unwelcome change, his heart hammering against your back and his panting breath on the back of your neck. You went to glance back at him in confusion only to see the theatre doors wide open and an attendant stroll in.

You looked at Mickey’s face in alarm but his eyes were set on the screen, refusing to meet you. You turned your head back around and looked at the screen, seeing nothing. You weren’t even sure what the movie was about anymore but you stared at the characters desperately. Mickey’s hand rested on your hip as the theatre clerk stood by the door, eyes scanning the room. It was just dark enough that the man wouldn’t be able to spot your panties bunched up on the floor, let alone you sat with your boyfriends still rigid cock up inside of you. To him, it probably looked as though you were sat on his lap cuddling him.

You shifted anxiously, feeling Mickey’s breathing change as you did so and you realised that at this angle, he could really feel you. Your eyes flickered to the utterly bored looking attendant who seemed to have his attention grabbed by the movie as an idea started ringing in your head. You slightly adjusted yourself, rising up a little and angling your hips back down. You heard him take in a sharp breath, his fingers bruising your hips as you moved very calculated and slow, unable to wipe the satisfied smile off your face as you felt his cock twitch almost pathetically inside of you.

“Filthy bitch wants to get caught.” You heard him mutter between his teeth.

You shrugged every so slightly, responding to him in a hushed whisper, “you started it. I’m finishing it.”

[tokoyamisstuff]

No One Loves You (Like I Do)

2,2k. words | Yandere! Enrico Maxwell x gn! Reader

Synopsis: Love had always been a foreign concept to the bishop, but when you stumbled into his life he got painfully aware how deprived he truly was of it.

GIF Source: bitches-love-cannons (deactivated)

A user on Ao3 asked for Yandere! Maxwell with a shy/quiet Reader.

Warnings: forced relationship, captivity, gaslighting

A/N: I absolutely loathe this work of mine, sorry

Even though he never built any meaningful connection himself, Maxwell at least intellectually understood human bonds. Selfish and fragile mechanisms they were to him, nothing more.

The bishop always thought himself to be immune to such inferior sentiments, that he could see behind everyone's act...

...until he met you, that was.

Because no matter what circumstance, relations were always connected to some kind of advantage, weren't they? Security, influence, power...no one would willingly keep someone in their social circle that didn't provide anything useful for them.

Hell, even Anderson only took care of the young orphans - including himself - out of religious necessity, because it makes him feel righteous and morally superior, he was sure of it!

Friends and acquaintaces were made through shared time and experience, similar views and other feeble components. Always threaten to change randomly and without our influence. Even familiar bonds were formed out of obligation and our ingrained instinct to pass on our genes.

That was his theory when he first met you, a desperate attempt to rationalize those feelings blooming in the bottomless pit he called his soul. Yes, surely it had to be a biological urge and nothing more. He was only a man too after all, even if he took great endeavour to ascend that pathetic state.

But you, precious little thing you were, caused him to stumble across the biggest mystery he had yet to resolve: Romantic love.

What was the reason that humans revolved their entire thought, energy, self around one another? Making someone else the centre of their life, accomodate even if it meant personal disadvantage, as long as you could be together?

How could anyone wanna expose the most vulnerable part of themselves? No matter how much he tried to wrap his head around it, he failed to find an answer.

Back when you met at that fateful morning two months ago, you had no clue who it was that sat next to you on that park bench. Certainly a handsome man, that much credit he'd give himself, but might as well be a nobody to an uneducated heathen like you were one.

And yet you treated him with nothing but kindness and sincere interest, even though you couldn't hope to gain something from it.

He remembers clearly how timidly you had tapped his shoulder, excusing yourself for overstepping but wanting to ask if he was alright. Well no, he was visibly upset over a triviality at work, and your sudden inquisition unwillingly caught him so off guard that he just started ranting to a complete stranger.

It was so soothing just to talk about whatever topic crossed his mind, your calming aura helping him to sort his thoughts as you quietly nodded along and offered him an encouraging smile from time to time.

An incredible feeling, actually being listened to by someone other than dimwits or bootlickers...especially since even without knowing about his status, you gave him the respect he thought he deserved.

This was too good to be true, he thought when he found that note with your number tucked between his bible. Yet after letting the organization do a quick background scan on you, he soon realized there was nothing suspicious to be found.

Quite the opposite, even: Such a plain, pathetic existence. It was almost comically ironic how much worth you would gain just through his interest.

And the more he learned, the more his curiosity deepened into a downright addiction.

You were special, overlooked, always had to work much harder than anyone else in order to survive - just like him.

You were so excruciatingly lonely that it broke his heart just to think about it - just like him.

You deserved way more than what life had offered you - just like him.

And he'd be damned if he didn't save you from that fate and put you right where you belong - at his side, with your every wish fulfilled by your shining knight.

Maxwell found himself fantasizing about building a life together, spiraling deeper and deeper into his own delusions.

Set aside that dating was out of question let alone because of his faith, he thought the formal way to approach you was beneath him. In his opinion during that one meeting the two of you had already formed a connection that was way more intimate than ordinary people could ever hope to have.

So the Iscariot leader had his members abduct you in the security of your own home, brought you to him without question or remorse. With his kind of influence it was an easy task to tamper some evidence, making it look like you started a whole new life far away, so no one would ever bother trying to find you.

However, reality is oftentimes much harder than those yearning dreams that make our everyday life more bearable.

In the end the person he invited - no, misplaced - into his home didn't even come close to the idealized version of you he had created in his head.

Altough he had prepared every miniscule detail prior to your arrival, things went south the moment you came back to your senses. You were afraid and confused in the beginning, that much he could sympathize with.

But the fact that you were still so damn ungrateful even weeks later was simply unacceptable!

Enrico explained it to you several times now, didn't he? Then why in the Lord's name aren't you happy?! You should fall to your knees and cover him in praise for freeing you from the shackles of your own ordinarity!

Instead you flinch every time he just so much as innocently touches you, have tears dwell in your eyes like he was some kind of monster that kept you prisoner.

All he ever wanted was some genuine fucking affection and even that he couldn't be granted?!

The bishop was already irritated before the door fell into it's lock, tossing his bariefcase into the next best corner before stepping into the luxorious apartment. Usually he'd crave the peace of his solitude, always claiming to need no one, but recently he couldn't wait to meet the only person he was able to tolerate.

There you were, sitting in the living room right at the huge windowsill, dreamily gazing outside to watch free people go about their day. He clears his throat to gain your attention, and immediately you turn around, eyes wide like a deer in the headlight.

"Welcome back" you coo, heart racing as he approaches you with a fake confidence in his steps. He sits down right besides you, taking one of your hands and placing the ghost of a kiss over it. "I missed you painfully" he admits and you manage to crack a smile, not knowing what reaction he expects or if you'd even be able to provide it for him.

You could, or rather should play along, it would make things so much easier for both of you. But you wore your heart on your sleeve, which made him both furious and admiring that you were unable to tell any comforting lie.

But that also means once you give in to your fate, he'll know it's for real.

Maxwell's eyes wander up and down your form, satisfied with what he sees. Everything from the clothes you wear up to your perfume had been handpicked by himself, and it granted you an ethereal kind of glow. A sight for his sore eyes, really.

Surely if you understand that all of his wealth, power and influence is now also yours, you'll be delighted to stay at his side.

"You look amazing..." he murmurs, letting his knuckles stroke across your cheek. You bite your lip, cautious yet to him it was endearing really. "Tha-thank you, bishop-"

He makes a both warning and placating gesture with his hand, putting on a fake smile as he reminds "I told you to not call me by my title. It's just Maxwell for you...or Enrico, whatever you prefer."

The Enrico Maxwell you got to know was a soft-spoken and gentle man, at least that was the facade he wanted to maintain. Deep inside of him however was another, disturbed and sinister part of him. You were aware of it, no matter how hard he tried to hide it from you.

This huge contrast between his behavior and the reality of your situation was simply absurd, the twisted obsession he thought to be love suffocating. You swallow nervously, stuttering with every syllable. "Alright...Maxwell."

Panic rose in your chest as you licked your dry lips and immediately found his gaze stuck on them. Hesistantly, he leans in to close the gap between the two of you, and frozen in fear you just allow it to happen.

The kiss was tender yet demanding, you could physically feel his desparation radiating off of him. It made you wonder how long he was starved of this kind of intimacy, or if he ever experienced something like it at all. He dwelled in the sensation for as long as possible, not yet daring to wrap his arms around you like he envisioned so painfully often...

...when he finally broke the kiss however, your eyes were already open and glossy with tears.

"What?" he sadly asks, face contorting in disappointment. Anger boils up in his stomach but he tries to calm himself, to not lose face in front of you, yet it was almost impossible to hide the aggravation in his voice. "Why...what is it?!"

Enrico wanted you to go back to the person worshipping his every step, clinging to his lips like they spread some kind of ancient wisdom, not...this...

A quiet gasp escapes your throat and you wince back, only enraging him further. He internally whines at his own inability to be the man you need, the man you'd willingly give yourself to. Letting out a deep breath, he starts again, tone smoother this time. "My love, I can't bear to see you cry." He reaches out to cup your cheek but decides to give you space instead. "Tell me what's wrong, I promise I won't get mad."

His strategy seemed to work, your stance slowly relaxing as you fumbled with your words. "It's- it's just..." Feeling bold, you tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear to appease him. "I miss my family, that's all."

Your family? Your pathetic excuse of a family?! That is what's got you so worked up, what you prefer to choose over him?

Seems like his prayers are never being answered.

If it wasn't for the balmy sensation of your fingers brushing against his aching skin, he definetly would've snapped at you. Yet he merely groans, rubbing his temple in frustration. "Seriously? Don't be ridiculous." You wish you could hide from his sharp gaze, but Enrico softly lifts your chin, forcing you to keep looking at him. "Don't you get it? They only care for you out of obligation. But I..." His smile is honest now, almost innocent when he declares "I chose to love you."

Maxwell's confession caught you off guard, lets your blood run cold for a moment - until you realize that you could use his own emotions against him.

This would be your ticket to freedom.

"You...you love me?" You mindfully place a hand on his when you ask him again. His answer is quick and serious, thumb running over your palm, absentmindedly circling the skin. "Of course I do." To him it was so obvious, he almost felt offended you didn't realize.

Why else would he go out of his way to forcefully intertwine your fates together?

"Then-" you stop briefly, but decide to at least try to convince him. What's the worst that can happen? After all, asides from keeping you here, the bishop never gave you reason to think he would harm you in any way. "Then let me out."

Before he could object, you quickly sealed your wish with another kiss, feeling him sigh against your mouth. He melts into the unexpected voluntary closeness, the promise of more to come.

"You said you would grant me every wish" you gasp for air as your lips part again, "So let me out, just once in a while. I want to feel the sun on my skin again, I want to talk to other people, I want-"

"Alright, alright" he announces with a charming voice, as if he was doing you a great favour. Positive anticipation clouds his judgement, making him ponder. "Well I guess as long as you stay on Vatican ground and are accompanied by guards, I can allow you some more freedom."

"Thank you!" Out of hope for a possible way out, you can't help but tackle your captor in an excited hug, even though it was contrary to your wish to get as far away from him as humanly possible. "Thank you so, so much, Maxwell!"

"You're way too humble with your wishes" he notes. If he had known earlier that it'd be this easy to make you comply...

Finally enjoying what he craved most only further fed his delusions, his mouth splitting into a manic grin as he trapped you in his hold, whispering in your ear like the snake of Eden itself.

"Give yourself up to me, and I promise you there's nothing you'll ever miss again."

[luvvvivii]

hi lovey!!

could you write a imagine of reader who is scared of cats so when Minho takes her to a cat cafe for a date she wants to back out but he basically makes her see they aren't so scary after all

if you write it could you tag me pls so I could see it?

hope you're doing good :)

a cat's surprise — l.mh

pairing - minho x gn!reader

genre - fluff, imagine

wc - 917

warnings - not proofread (get used to this), dear used as pet name, reader is scared of cats, probably inaccurate ways of befriending a cat but it's okay

a/n - hii, thank u for requesting! it shld notify u when I answer it but I'll tag just in case, hope u enjoy!! @jinnie-ret

synopsis - going to a cat cafe as a date with your boyfriend was not something you thought you'd ever do

"c'mon dear, they're not that bad." your boyfriend almost pleaded with you, his face pouting slightly.

"no minho. I will not be going to that cat cafe. end of. you know how much cats scare me!" you sighed — as much as you'd like to go with him, you could already imagine those small, ferocious beasts lingering around.

"I promise you yn, they won't hurt you. just come along, I'll pay for everything you buy? plus, if any of the cats hurt you in any way, I'll give you twenty bucks each time."

and so, that was how you arrived at your current predicament. slowly putting your shoes on to go on a date with lee minho to the cat cafe. you wondered how on earth you'd be able to survive, especially with so many cats all over the cafe. at least I get some cash, you had thought to yourself.

the walk to the cafe was an agitating one, you had no clue how you'd stay sane. whenever you saw a cat — no matter how close or far away — you would always go crazy. minho sensed your panic, and so he held your hand with a squeeze, shooting you a small smile of reassurance. it warmed your heart, so you took a mental note to do something nice for him later as well.

sooner or later, you both arrived at the cat cafe. even from the outside, you could see the cats frolicking around and mingling with the guests. you shivered. "are you sure nothing's going to happen to me?"

"one hundred percent, yn. now should we go in?" minho stretched out his hand for you to take, in which you gladly accepted with a giggle. being alongside your lover gave you a huge sense of comfort, so you brushed off the nerves and took in a deep breath.

the bells jingled above you as the door opened, acknowledging your presence to the staff. suddenly, all cat eyes were on you, and you felt your breath hitch. it's alright yn, they won't do anything. minho's here as well! you tried to calm yourself down, but it was not working like how you'd like. minho — as always — understood your fear, and so waited patiently before you continued to walk in. once you collected yourself together, you quickly walked over to a table and sat down, eyeing around to make sure no cats were hiding. minho chuckled at your antics and soon opened the menu to begin ordering.

your food had arrived, and so far, no cat had come in any proximity to you. of course, being the cat magnet, minho did have a few encounters. but none ever ventured over to where you were sitting. and rightfully so. eventually, you started to like the place a bit more. the decorations were very much up to your standards, and their sweet treats were absolute perfection in your eyes!

just as you were about to leave, a small, tabby cat slowly approached your feet. what would you do? you couldn't scream, of course not. not only would that be embarrassing, you'd cause a ruckus in the cafe, and nobody would want that. so you did the next best thing. you froze right in place. it was so abrupt, even minho — who had gotten used to your behavior around cats — was caught by surprise.

"hm, quick question dear. since you've done so well being around cats, why don't I teach you how to become friendly with them?" the idea baffled you. he could see what position you were in, yet still continued as normal? although you had to admit, you have come so far out of your comfort zone already, why not take the final big step? slowly, you nodded. minho smiled wider than ever, and soon crouched down to start your lesson.

"first things first, get into the position I'm in. nothing too serious literally just crouch down. then, slowly bring out your hand to their face. don't point it down towards them, that's seen as a threat." you hesitantly obeyed him and eventually carried out everything he told you to. soon enough, the cat slowly but surely walked over and sniffed your hand. then, rubbed his cheeks against your hand. you felt as if you were about to collapse, but stayed strong to show you could do this.

"perfect! he loves you already. now, I'm pretty sure you can pet him. go ahead and try for me." you did exactly so. and just as minho had said, the cat did nothing but succumb to your touch. you almost cried at how soft he was being toward you. you saw out of the corner of your eye the way minho looked at you with pride. he had always known about your undying fear of the small animals, and seeing you slowly come over that fear — especially one about something he was so fond of himself — lifted a slight worry off his shoulders. "at least they can meet soonie, doongie, and dori without trouble." he chuckled to himself. unfortunately, it was soon time for you to leave. with a bit of hesitancy, you followed minho out of the cafe and walked back home.

that night, you slept with surprising ease. it lifted your spirits to know that you were no longer absolutely terrified of cats. of course, it would take a while to completely get over the fear. but as of now, you were making perfect progress, especially in minho's eyes.

©@luvvvivii all rights reserved | do not repost or translate

[lovesickonmybed]

all you had to do was stay | (1/?)

eddie Munson x OC | chapter 2 | series masterlist

summary | vivian and eddie were best friends until he betrayed her. she decided to get revenge, but it went too far.

word count | 4,156.

warnings | swearing, alcohol, underage drinking, sexual content, themes of abandonment, smoking, and bullying.

a/n | i don't have anyone to edit for me or anything like that before posting so please feel free to give me some feedback about this first chapter!! also listen to all you had to do was stay (taylor's version) while reading this!

Nobody spends their spring break praying for it to be over…except maybe for me. I used to spend my spring breaks at Eddie Munson’s trailer playing D&D and listening to whatever metal albums we had all put enough money together to buy. Now I spend them at endless parties praying that whatever is in my cup will be enough to drown out my hatred for the people I now surround myself with. I would kill to be back at Eddie’s trailer playing D&D and listening to Black Sabbath, I would kill to be anywhere but Lovers Lake with a beer I didn’t even want in my hand.

Eddie became my best friend in 6th grade when I moved to Hawkins. Back then, I was pretty awkward and pretty angry at absolutely everything. My dear old dad had packed up everything and left me and my mom to try to survive on our own, so we moved back to my mom’s hometown of Hawkins, Indiana. It was nothing compared to back home in New York. I hated it, I hated my dad, I hated everything. But then I met someone who understood my anger, someone who knew exactly how I felt. His name was Eddie Munson. He was dorky as shit but also the coolest kid I had ever met. His hair was buzzed, he wore band tees, and he hung out with a girl who was just as cool as him. Veronica Ecker, or just Ronnie for short. She was tall with dark hair and a baseball cap she refused to ever take off. 

I remember walking in on my first day of 6th grade at Hawkins Middle. I was oh so lucky to be a new student on Halloween day. Everyone was in costume, I was just in an orange sweater and black jeans. I couldn’t afford a costume and we had thrown out all my old ones in the move. We couldn’t bring too much with us to Hawkins. There were already rumors about me before I had even stepped foot on school grounds. Rumors that I moved there because I got kicked out of every school in New York for starting fights. Another rumor spread that I was somebody from a government experiment that they had planned to plant at the school for research. It’s impressive just how creative 6th graders can get. The truth was too boring for them and nobody had cared to hear it, well, not nobody. Eddie Munson had waltzed up to me as I sat on the bleachers, he was wearing a pair of devil horns, a big grin spread across his face. “You’re the new girl, right?” He had asked.

“If you’re gonna ask me about the rumors then they’re both true and you should definitely avoid me,” I said sarcastically. I couldn’t help being defensive after having kids whisper about me all day, giggling to one another about how weird I was.

“Nah, they’re bullshit. You don’t look like you could win any fights against anybody,” Eddie joked.

I liked him from that very moment.

“You don’t know that, I bet I could take you, shrimp,” I joked back. It was the first time in a while that I had smiled, the first time in a while there was anything in my eyes besides anger.

“You know, maybe you could…but just think of all the people we could take on as a team,” he smiled. His smile is infectious and the grin on my face got even wider.

“You’re right…we’d be a great team…I’m Viv, by the way,” I said, sticking out my hand for him to shake. I had cracked royal blue nail polish on my nails and a variety of different rings I had found in my mom’s things littered both hands. His hands weren’t much different than mine, his nails had clearly been chewed short and he also had his own assortment of rings.

“Eddie, Eddie Munson…” 

From that moment on we were friends. He introduced me to Ronnie and then in 7th grade we met Dougie and he joined our group. We had all even performed together in our school's talent show. They had me on vocals because I couldn't play any instruments and I would say that I killed it but half of Hawkins wanted us dead or expelled after that so maybe it’s for the best if I forget it ever happened. Or if I forget that anything had ever happened with that group at all. It’s so strange to know that the people who had taken me in and became my first friends here are the ones who hate me most now. I can’t say I blame them though…

When high school started we were all losers, I mean we were losers in middle school too but it became even more obvious once we hit high school. Jocks hated Eddie and Dougie, targeting them constantly. The cheerleaders and preppy girls had it out for me and Ronnie as well. Nothing says ‘Loser’ like getting trash dumped on you or having to memorize your friends' locker combinations for every time they were stuffed into their own locker and needed you to get them out. For all of Freshman and Sophomore year, I was called ‘Pizza Face’ or told that I was ‘flat as an ironing board’ y’know just all the best things you could say to a deeply insecure teenage girl whose hormones had favored developing acne over developing breasts. 

We had taken our love for D&D with us into high school and created a safe haven for people like us, the freaks and the outcasts. Eddie called them his ‘lost little sheep’ and it became his mission to find them…but it turns out a lot of those other freaks and outcasts had believed the lies fed to them about D&D being satanic so attendance was lacking. Nonetheless, we had somewhere we felt safe and it was exactly what we needed. Eddie became our leader, which sadly meant he’d get the most shit from bullies like Tommy H. 

There was nobody worse than Tommy H. His father owned the biggest and most successful car dealership in town. On top of that, he was also a star athlete (which is shocking considering how awful he is at pretty much everything I’ve ever witnessed him do) and that meant he could get away with whatever he wanted. He’d always go after Eddie, he’d start shit with him and then go crying to Principal Higgins about how Eddie had started it and there started Eddie’s record of so-called bad behavior. Being a Munson means it’s practically impossible to do anything and not get shit for it, Tommy knew this and used it to his advantage. He used Eddie as a punching bag and would get away with it, hell most of the time Eddie was the one taking the blame when Tommy would walk away without a scratch on him. And all of this makes me hate myself even more for what I did to Eddie…what I did to all of them…

It was the summer right before the start of junior year. I had been in New York visiting family for June and most of July. I had called Eddie almost every day to let him know about my trip, I did leave out a few key details though…the details of how I had gotten my braces off, how I had finally found something that fixed my acne problems, and most importantly I kept it a secret that I had finally started to develop. I had always had a bit of a crush on Eddie, as we had gotten older it had only gotten worse. I’ve never been good with relationships, my first kiss came from a game of Spin the Bottle in 8th grade. It was awkward, messy, and something I’d pay thousands to erase from the minds of all who witnessed it. I had a boyfriend at one point too, I’d use the term boyfriend very loosely though. It was Charlie Stump, he was a loser like me and we ‘dated’ Freshman year. Our relationship consisted of holding hands and sharing one kiss before he broke it off because he thought metal music was satanic. He was just something to fill the void that I had hoped Eddie would fill instead.

Ronnie had told me about the time Eddie had tried to kiss her when they were 13, I remember wishing it had been me instead, I would’ve let him kiss me whenever he had wanted. Me and Eddie were complicated…we were flirty with one another but whenever someone would address it we’d both claim it was a joke. I lied every single time. I cherished every single touch I got from him, they all felt electric. I cherished every time we’d hold hands to cross the street or to lead one another through a crowd, I cherished the kisses he’d give me on the cheek or forehead whenever I had saved his ass from his bullies, I cherished how he’d hold me against him when we’d watch horror movies. I was never really scared, but he never had to know that. I was lovestruck, but I knew he’d never feel the same. I saw how certain girls would catch his eye, preppy cheerleaders, good girls, girls that were nothing like me. Girls with perfect skin, perfect teeth, perfect bodies, perfect lives. I couldn’t compare. 

When I had finally started to look like the girls that caught his eye I was overjoyed. It was stupid, I felt good because I thought I would finally have a chance with my best friend. My best friend who had been designated as the freak of Hawkins High. His house was my first stop when I returned from my trip to New York. It was late but his trailer was only about a mile from the apartment complex I lived in with my mother. I had put on my best outfit, something that would surely make him swoon. It was a black denim dress, it buttoned up and the skirt flared out at the bottom, it was cute. I had even learned to do nicer makeup when I was visiting my cousins. I switched out my heavy eyeliner for something more soft and subtle. Something that girls that he likes would wear. I walked over with a smile on my face and hope in my heart. This would be the night I would win him over…or so I thought. 

When I arrived at the Munson residence I was met with the site of an unfamiliar car parked in front of the trailer. It was way too nice to belong to Wayne or Eddie, it was out of place for Forest Hills Trailer Park. My heart was beating faster as I became anxious. Every step I took towards his door felt heavy, it was like my body was slowly becoming filled with lead. I took a deep breath and I finally was at his door. I knocked and waited. It took him a minute to answer the door and when he did I was shocked. He was shirtless and his hair was a mess, there were a few hickeys scattered across his neck and collarbones, he looked hot. But once I got over how good he looked I was overtaken by jealousy. It looks like somebody beat me to it.

“Holy shit…I was not expecting you, Viv,” He chuckled. He was almost unaware of his appearance, unaware that it’s pretty obvious what he’d been doing. 

“I-I just got back into town…I wanted to surprise you…I guess you’re busy…”

Before Eddie could respond I saw a girl walk up behind him, I recognized her instantly and became filled with rage. Nicole fucking Summers. The goddamned bitch who had been tormenting me since 6th grade, she was the one who made up the rumors about me moving to Hawkins for getting expelled from every school in New York. She’s the one who cut off a chunk of my hair in 7th grade, the one who told everyone I still wore a training bra in 8th grade. She was the one who started calling me ‘Pizza Face’ in Freshman year, going as far as to get all her friends to throw slices of pizza at me at lunch. Sophomore year she had stolen my clothes after gym when I was in the shower and I was forced to find them in just my underwear. Out of anyone he could’ve fucked, out of anyone he could’ve lost his virginity to why the fuck did it have to be her. Sure his options are slim but I was right there. 

I was beyond stunned when she began to speak. “Vivi, is that you? You look…different. I guess you grew out of your ugly duckling phase, huh?” She teased. She was in one of Eddie’s shirts, her makeup smeared and her neck was covered in hickeys just like Eddie’s. It took everything in me to not break both of their noses right then and there. 

“I’m just gonna go. Clearly, you’re busy,” I spat out at Eddie. He was lucky I was holding back my anger. I didn’t even let him respond before I was marching off and away from his door, once I was a far enough distance away I started to run. I screamed and I cried and I ran all the way home. My mascara burned my eyes but I ignored it. Eddie’s betrayal had hurt me worse than anything physical ever could. He didn’t notice that I changed, he didn’t care, he fucked the girl who had made my life miserable. At the time I didn’t know it was a one-time thing. She had wanted to brag to her friends about ‘taking the freaks virginity before his loser little friend got a chance.’ 

I locked myself in my room for days, I was beyond angry. I wanted to tear them both apart and then put them back together again so that I could do it all over again. I didn’t know what to think and I didn’t know what to do…until I did. I ignored any calls from Eddie, Ronnie, or Dougie. I told my mom that if they came looking for me to tell them I was sick. I couldn’t face any of them, if I did I wouldn’t have been able to hold myself back. I devised a plan, a plan to get Nicole back for fucking Eddie and one to get Eddie back for fucking Nicole. It was a plan that would go too far for too long. The few times I had gone out in public I had overheard something about there being a party at Steve Harrington's house. His parents were always gone and he hung out with just the people I needed for my plan. 

On a Saturday night in August, I found myself on the front doorstep of the Harrington residence. I was in an almost sheer blouse, my lacy red bra showing through the material, and a mini skirt, it was nothing like I had ever worn before. My makeup and hair were perfect, I knew what these guys liked, it was exactly what Eddie liked. I took a deep breath before waltzing in, heads turning as soon as I walked in the door. I had never been to a party before and I had certainly never looked like this before. “Do you have a staring problem or something, Caleb?” I asked one of Tommy’s cronies. He was closest to me and a perfect target for my plan.

His eyes were glued to me, raking up and down my body slowly. “When Nicole said you got hot I thought she was kidding…” He said as he licked his lips. I rolled my eyes and walked towards the kitchen to find something to drink. 

As I made my way into the kitchen I bumped into none other than Steve Harrington himself. He did a double-take when he saw me. “Holy shit…w-what are you doing here?”

“Can’t a girl go to a party, Harrington?” I replied. He was still sputtering and his face was all red, it felt great to fluster a man like this for once in my life. 

“B-But…you…you’re-”

“I’m what? I’m a loser? An outcast? A freak? Not anymore, Harrington.”

He cleared his throat and got a hold of himself, “Where’s Munson? Aren't you two inseparable or something?”

“Not anymore…I umm…let’s just say I outgrew him.” I was totally bullshitting. 

“Really?” Steve asked. He was looking at me the same way that Caleb was when I walked in. 

“Really. Now do you mind showing me where you’ve got some vodka, I really need a drink.” What I needed was liquid courage, courage for the idiotic bullshit I planned to do that night. Steve led me to the vodka and I took a shot, and then another. I was on a mission but fuck I needed that to be able to succeed. 

I look over at Steve and bat my eyelashes, “Hey, Stevie, do you know where Tommy’s at?”

He scratches the back of his neck as he tries to think, “Last I saw him he was outside in the pool.”

I get on my tip toes and kiss him on the cheek, “Thanks, Stevie.” His face is flushed when I walk off to go find Tommy. It doesn’t take me long, he’s lounging on one of the pool chairs with a beer in his hand. He’s not somebody I find particularly attractive but I’ll have to fake it for my plan. I smile down at him. “Hey Tommy,” I say as I bite my lip. He looks up at me with wide eyes that get even wider as he takes in my appearance. 

“No fucking way…Nicole wasn’t lying…” He’s taking his time to admire me, I hate how his eyes feel on me.

“It’s amazing what a few months can do, huh? Do you…do you mind if I sit down with you?” I bat my eyelashes at him and he crumbles beneath my gaze. 

“Be my guest…” His eyes are glued to my body, more specifically my chest. 

“So, how was your summer?” I ask, I sit across from him with my legs uncrossed, he has a perfect view of my lacy little thong. It’s red and leaves barely anything to the imagination, it’s ideal for a creep like him. His eyes trail down to the spot between my legs and he smirks.

“It would’ve been a lot better had I known you were spending it turning into this, fuck…” He groans. I’ve got him right where I want him.

“It’s amazing what a summer away from Munson could do to a girl,” I giggle. It feels awful coming out of my mouth, worse than the vodka taste going down. 

“You’re done with him, huh? Wanted to join where you should’ve been the whole time…fuck if we had gotten our hands on you sooner just imagine what you would be Vivian…” He marvels, “I knew you weren’t like them…like those freaks. Bet Munson dragged you into all that satanic shit, you’re better than that, better than him…” Tommy rambles. 

“He did…I-I’m not like that anymore,” I lie through my fucking teeth.

“Yeah? You a good girl now?” Tommy teases. 

“I am…can I show you just how good I am, Tommy?” I flirt. 

“Harrington’s got a guest room upstairs that’ll be perfect, baby. Think of it as your initiation into the good side,” Tommy says. I think he’s exaggerating that last part, that he’s being dramatic, but after what we did that night he had no plans of ever letting me return to Eddie again.

In Sex ED they don’t tell you how needy a guy can be after a one-night stand. This was supposed to be a one-time thing that would get spread around to Eddie so that he’d hurt as bad as he had hurt me. But instead, Tommy got attached, and I became his little project. He planned to mold me into his little homecoming queen. And Eddie…Eddie was more than hurt, he hated me. I can’t blame him, I hated myself for it. I expected an angry phone call or an aggressive confrontation but instead, I was met with radio silence, not only from him but from every single one of my old friends. I went too far and had no other choice than to stay with my new ‘friends’. On the first day of Junior year I walked into school a completely different person. People had heard about my transformation and they had also heard about me hooking up with Tommy, I was already the talk of the school and first period hadn’t even started. When I said that Tommy planned to turn me into his little homecoming queen I wasn’t kidding. He made Tina and Carol take me shopping at the goddamn Gap. They picked me out new outfits, told me how to do my hair, who to talk to, what music to listen to, who to be. The worst part is that I kind of…liked it. I liked how I looked in my new outfits, I liked how my hair framed my face, hell I even liked the music they picked out. It turns out Madonna isn’t too bad when you don’t have somebody trying to shove down your throat that enjoying her music is the worst crime someone could commit. 

So on the first day of school I walked in wearing a pink turtleneck, a light washed denim skirt, and a pair of knee high white boots. I felt pretty, I felt confident, I felt fucking amazing. Well I did until I saw my locker. Eddie had taken the liberty of breaking into the school and defacing my locker, in blood red spray paint the word ‘TRAITOR’ had been written for all to see. It didn’t take a genius to know it was him. He watched me walk up to it with a proud smile on his face, leaning against the lockers right across from mine. Ronnie and Dougie were beaming with him. I was raging, I wanted to punch him in the face. I wanted to yell that he was the traitor for what he did with Nicole Summers, but instead I walked up to him and simply said, “The same could be said for you. At least I wasn’t a pity fuck.” That set him off. Before I know it he’s dragging me down the hall by my arm and into the janitor's closet, he slams me against the wall and for a second I smile. Maybe in some other universe he’s dragging me in here to confess his feelings for me and to kiss me, not in this one though, in this one I ruined any chance of that I could’ve possibly had.

He glares at me like he wants me dead and I’m sure he does. He has me pinned against the wall, his face only inches from mine as he begins to speak. “You may have new friends and a new look but you’ll always be a fucking loser!” He spits. It’s an anger I’ve only heard reserved for people like Tommy. “Your new friends used to treat you like you were nothing, don’t think they won’t drop you once they get bored of you. They’ll throw you out and you’ll have nobody because you burned any bridges you could’ve had back to us. You’re fucking pathetic, Vivian.” Eddie spits in my face and walks out, leaving me to process really how bad I had fucked up. He’s right, but I can’t go back now. I don’t have that choice anymore, I lost my chance when Tommy unbuttoned my blouse upstairs at the party. 

So here I am, senior year, still unfortunately friends with Tommy, Carol, and Tina. Carol had the grand idea of throwing a party at Lover’s Lake and was ready to have my head if I skipped out on one more party this week. I didn’t bother showing up in a swimsuit, I have no intentions of swimming. I’m in a red tight fitting t-shirt, black denim cutoffs that show off way more of my ass than my friends thought was acceptable, and a pair of beat up black converse. I’m standing away from most of the crowd sipping on a beer that tastes like actual piss and regretting giving into Carol's whining about how I just had to come tonight. I scan the crowd and attempt to pick out somebody who I might not hate spending my night with when I see him. He’s in a white t-shirt, ripped light wash jeans, and a pair of boots. His hair is tied up and he’s lighting a cigarette. Fuck.

[librivore42]

Do not go gentle into that good night

Behold! Another secret Withers gift, this time for @acrowsrockcollection! Ao3 link right here, and the fic text under the cut if you'd rather stay on tumblr. Do not go gentle into that dark night (1302 words) by Librivore42 Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gale/Karlach (Baldur's Gate), Gale & Karlach (Baldur's Gate) Characters: Gale (Baldur's Gate), Karlach (Baldur's Gate) Additional Tags: ruminations about death, this can be read as shippy or platonic, both are valid so I've tagged it as both Summary: Gale and Karlach both know they don't have much time, and the unfairness seems to hit all at once. Nobody else can understand, but they can at least comfort each other, can at least hug tight and rage and weep.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

-Dylan Thomas

“So we’re both going to die.”

Gale hadn’t seen Karlach shake this hard since the so-called Paladins of Tyr. But that had been anger, dangerous certainly, but unstoppable, indomitable. This was a very different sort of anger, full of fear, despair, helplessness, her fire drowning in the unshed tears he could see in her eyes, clenched fists trembling.

“Karlach…” at least with her second upgrade he could touch her shoulder, a small blessing in the middle of everything. After Mystra. After Gortash. After their fates had been signed and sealed. She would not survive outside the Hells, and he could not survive the end of this quest.

Killing Gortash should have been cathartic. But she was just drained, exhausted, held up only by anguish.

“You have to die to kill the Absolute or whatever. Just so I can die after that. Or before. It’s not fair.” Her voice cracked as she shrugged him off and pinned him with a stare that sent a sharp crack of pain through his heart. “It’s not fucking fair!”

That had been him a year ago. Unfair, unfair, he had so much life left to live, so much world to see. Yet even as he’d started to accept the fact that he would die if he didn’t keep feeding the orb, there hadn’t been that… resignation that had crept up once Mystra had given him his orders. There had still been a chance to keep going.

“I-” He cut himself off from saying he understood, because he didn’t. This was hardly comparable. He’d done this to himself. Even his death would be of his own making. Karlach had never been given a choice from beginning to end.

“What’s the point?” she burst out, and he blinked, wondering if he’d missed a crucial part of the conversation while off in his own thoughts.

“Pardon?”

“What’s the point of saving the world, then? Neither of us are going to get to see it.”

He nearly flinched at her anger, though it wasn’t directed at him. “You don’t mean that.”

“Putting myself on the line for years, for years and all I get is-” she gestured helplessly at the sky. “Nothing. Doesn’t feel like there’s a point to do it again. I should just go get drunk. Stop myself from feeling until it… happens. Not like you’ll need me there, you’re off to go blow yourself up and that’ll fix everything, won’t it?”

“The blast will certainly have enough power to-” “Gods!” Her flames burned hotter, hot enough that he had to take a step back, and maybe the anger actually was directed at him this time. “You’re just going to lie down and take it, aren’t you! Any one of those gods could probably wave a hand and fix all of this. Mystra could just fix you, I bet she could, but she's as petty as Zariel.”

“If she could, I’m sure she wouldn’t-”

“Oh, oh! So she can suddenly stabilise it, right, which she didn’t do for a year but she can’t fix it? And Mister Full-of-Questions doesn’t even question that? We’re just things to them, Gale. Just toys to be played with and thrown away when our owners get bored of us.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath, and he wasn’t sure if it was resignation that made her flames dim, or whether she was making an effort to hold it together. She reached out and gripped his shoulders so tight they hurt.

“I hate that I have to die. But I think I hate it more that she’s telling you to kill yourself. And you’re just… going to do it.”

For a long moment, his ready responses failed him, rising and falling before they could even reach his lips. “This is the only way we can guarantee victory.”

“You’re not even going to try. You still have room to try.” Low. Bitter. Her voice should never have to sound like that. It was made for joy and hope. He felt his heart break just a little more, cracking slowly by degrees.

The pain in his left shoulder lessened to a dull throb as she moved her hand to rest against the orb peeking out from under his clothes. His own hand lifted as if by its own motion, resting on the skin that housed the furnace where her heart should be.

“I don’t want to die, Gale.” The tears started to fall, hot and helpless as she clenched the hand over his chest into a fist. He held it close as he nodded gently, thumbs soothing over the back of her hands as she sobbed. She needed a hug, though he was completely unsure if she’d accept one after she’d shook off the touch on her shoulder, so he simply took the contact she was willing to give. “I can’t pretend it’s not going to happen anymore, or that it’s too far away to worry about. And I can’t just… be resigned to it. I don’t. Want. To die.”

“Neither do I.” The admission felt like stepping over a cliff, and his breath caught in his throat. Any second now he was going to hit the ground, his heart was going shatter on impact, and he was going to weep. He couldn’t, he couldn’t. He had to be strong, this was Karlach’s time to mourn the choices she was never given, not his to pity himself for the ones he’d made.

She stared at him for a long moment before dragging him against her chest, strong arms encasing him, and after a shocked and endless few seconds, he clutched at her like a lifeline.

“Then don’t.”

“But-”

“None of it was your fault either.”

Shattering like ice, melting at the corners of his eyes.

“You don’t have to sacrifice yourself to be forgiven. Anyone who demands that doesn’t deserve you,” she said fiercely, voice still stained with tears. Tears dropping onto the top of his head, tears wetting her chest. “You have to live.”

“I wish I knew the magic to save you,” he whispered.

“Don’t say that. Say you already have a plan. You aren’t going to die, because you have a plan to save me and you need to see it through. Even if it’s a lie, just tell it to me so I can believe it until we- until we...”

The gods should have done something a long time ago. There was nobody less deserving of this death than she was, so full of life and kindness.

It wasn’t fair.

There was no wizard powerful enough to save her.

But perhaps a god could.

His mind flickered, briefly, to the book about the crown of Karsus in his bag. If he could get his hands on it, rather than dying, if he could reforge it and learn to control it-

And if he failed, he’d have doomed everyone. He pressed against her, feeling her shake as a strange sort of grim determination ran through him.

It was worth it. He extricated an arm from their embrace and took her cheek, pulling her face down to look him in the eye, all trace of tears gone in this new, terrifying sort of tightrope he’d found himself on, halfway down his freefall from that cliff of grief.

“I have a plan,” he said firmly. “A real one. And I’m going to live and see it through.”

The gods and devils had left this world to wither away as it will. But perhaps he could tip the scales, and make it more worthy for such a good heart to live a long and happy life in it.

[ithaquasbbg]

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡ Based on some hcs I left in a disc server… the messages are getting so long that it’s going on here now 🥲. This is like my current brain rot so,,, here we go!

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Ithaqua and Joseph found family hcs (platonic obvi)

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-When Ithaqua and Joseph first meet it’s at dinner and Joseph just so happens to get SUPER drunk to the point where he mistakes Ithaqua for Claude and starts calling him “brother.” Itha doesn’t like this at all and yells at him. Afterwards once they both get to understand each other better they apologize to each other.

-It doesn’t take long for the two to bond over their experiences and become close, almost like brothers in a way.

-Ithaqua acts more like the older brother, much more protective of the other, making sure nobody actually hurts Joseph. Mainly because of his trauma, he’s determined not to let another person he loves get hurt.

-Joseph… is complicated, though comes off as the younger brother in all honesty. More clingy and paranoid that anything could happen to Ithaqua. Once he gets closer to itha he comes off as pretty childish at times since he didn’t really get to have a real childhood

-like the dudes brother died, the people from his country died, and he was abruptly taken away from his home when he was a little kid. Mental health wasn’t well understood back then so for his actual life it was covered up. But itha allows him to let go of the facade for a bit.

-So in return, Joseph lets itha cry to him. He will sit there keeping Ithaqua in a tight hug, making sure that he is all right while listening to his problems.

-If Joseph was ever allowed in duos, Ithaqua would try to be his partner to make sure he doesn’t get stunned all too much. Which would leave Joseph cursing him out (lovingly) after the match for getting himself hurt

-Joseph occasionally has moments when he’ll see Ithaqua as Claude still, holding him close and just absolutely sobbing into his shoulder. Especially once he realizes he’s not, but having somebody there to fill the void is somewhat comforting

-Ithaqua having somebody who looks similar to him while being nothing like Nathaniel slowly helps him have less hatred towards his own appearance.

-when one gets really emotional, sometimes they’ll sleep together (platonically). Usually whoever the more upset one ends up as the little spoon, falling asleep after crying into the other. It happens pretty often, but it’s comforting to have somebody to cry to.

- Joseph has periods of time where he doesn’t speak at all, expressing everything physically. Ithaqua doesn’t mind too much, often helping the other. Sometimes these periods last several hours to even days, when that happens Itha tries to coax the other into speaking.

-On the other hand, Ithaqua has a bunch of things he hyper fixates on but often covers up his excitement for said things around people to not come off as weird. Joseph is more than willing to listen to the others rants.

-Itha isn’t super cuddly, Joseph definitely is. The big difference between them is the age everything happened at, which causes them to act so differently. Joseph will physically cling onto Ithaqua, when the two are in the couch, he’ll hug itha and rest against him

-meanwhile Ithaqua doesn’t usually get touchy with the other in big ways, more so protectively putting an arm around him or holding onto the others hand to make sure that he’s there to protect the other

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

Woof

[luckyfinch]

Chapter 10: No Going Back

Other chapters, warnings, n all that jazz HERE

chapter word count: 1.6k

It had been steady, at first. Nothing to look twice at. Never changing too much, staying at its typical level of upset.

 Then, a small brightness. 

Then, an eruption of raw, traitorous anger.

Even as unnatural waves of calm-calm-calm rushed through, the anger remained strong. If anything it grew. 

It didn’t take long for Nightmare to pinpoint the exact AU, after that. The guardian, out at the time (even a being as old and violent as him needed to get out on his own occasionally), had been immediately aware of his ward’s absence upon returning to his domain. The rest of his no-brain crew (and Cross) hadn’t yet seemed to notice, a fact that annoyed him greatly. There was nobody to blame, though. Nightmare had declared Swap no-longer a flight risk after the remaining Stars’ had infiltrated the lair; Swap had the chance to leave then and there, if he’d wanted to. 

Rage pressed in on the small room as he threw open the door, reaching out to each corner and suffocating any trace of his “brother.” The golden skeleton was upstairs, clearly- Nightmare could feel his aura trying to press in on the ball of absolute raw negativity with him. 

A disgusting burst of joy had his attention snapping to the left. On the ground lay an Underfell Sans-variant, unconscious. Nightmare stepped over to them, and immediately understood: Dream had placed them into a deep, deep sleep. Their dreams were filled with the same artificial positivity the room upstairs was leaking. Suppressing a growl the guardian rested an appendage onto their leg, slowly drawing them out of the rest. Then, he stepped over them, leaving the Sans behind to thunder up the stairs. 

With Dream, another blast sounded, barely giving him time to jump out of the way. Glass shattered and burnt to a crisp as the window and surrounding wall exploded with the Gaster Blaster’s ray—where Dream had stood a moment prior. Swap really wasn’t pulling his punches. A shrill “eep!” escaped the Guardian of Positivity when another Gaster Blaster formed, and he had no choice but to take a leap out of the now-hole in the wall. 

He rolled with his landing, though stumbled in getting to his feet. The summoned-machetes fell into the snow a foot away. A guttural shout announced Swap’s departure from this AU’s skeleton’s house followed by a thud as his booted feet hit the ground. 

“Bl- Blue, just- you aren’t acting like yourself! Listen to me!” Dream stuttered out, unable to quench the pinch of fear grabbing at his Apple-SOUL. He had never seen his friend like this before. The negativity pouring from him brought Dream again to his knees as he tried standing, reaching for his weapons, just- something, he needed to do something to stop this fight. Underfell was already a negative enough AU for the guardian to be in, and the added pressure of Swap’s fury felt like a physical weight on his back.

“I TOLD YOU TO SHUT UP!” Came the heated reply. 

Another pang against Dream. The hammer came down once more, leaving splintered bone in its wake. Dream screamed in pain, mouth hanging open even as his voice died out, hands scrabbling behind him for purchase in the snow to drag himself away. His leg was already starting to heal itself, but that didn’t take away from the hurting. 

Then, through the waves coming off the approaching Swap, was an aura of pure negativity moving slowly toward him. He felt like emptying his non-existent stomach, nausea churning throughout his body. The force of it pressed in on him painfully. It almost felt like it would crush his skull beneath it. As a shadow raised above him once more, Dream tried desperately to scoot backwards, to focus his eyes—The warhammer Swap wielded was posed, ready to swing downward right where his chest currently lay. Panic bloomed within him. He couldn’t drown it out fast enough, and the feeling of negativity within himself was so overwhelming he shook. 

A practically immortal being, Guardian of Positivity throughout the multiverse, spawn of Nym; reduced to a shaking, crying, scared mess of bones beneath a mere mortal monster. Swap wouldn’t be able to kill him he knew, being what he was- only Negativity could, the raw kind that- that was.. standing right behind Swap. 

The dark coated boots thumped mutedly through the snow as they approached. A dripping, twisting tentacle rested on Swap’s shoulder. The hammer raised above him quivered, being eased from Swap’s grip by the rest of Nightmare’s dark limbs. 

It was then that Dream registered the thick tears spilling from the blue-clad skeleton’s empty sockets. He, himself, was shaking in place. Nightmare—the proximity was burning him it burned it burned oh Stars please it burned—silently turned Swap around, dropping the hammer to the side and allowing the slightly taller of the two to wrap his arms around him. Swap clenched his fingers in the fabric of Nightmare’s stained hoodie, shaking harder with the force of his unleashed sobs. 

Nightmare’s one eye light remained unwaveringly staring into Dream’s over Swap’s shoulder. 

“We’ve been worried about you, Swap.” Said Nightmare. 

“I-“ 

“Don’t force yourself to speak.” 

Another hiccup left the crying skeleton. His guard was yet to lower, mind yelling that there was still an enemy around and why was his back turned to them, but despite the anguish he felt, he knew that Nightmare would take care of it. It was difficult to trust the sentiment in many ways, but he felt himself minutely relax in Nightmare’s hold regardless. 

Nightmare, on the other hand, was seething. His tentacles twitched behind him, reacting to the negativity that was pouring from Swap’s SOUL. Nightmare was soaking it up like a rotten sponge, and Dream flinched as he felt his brother’s enemy’s aura grow stronger in real time. Had his ward not made it clear enough that he didn’t need “saving” before? Perhaps Nightmare had been too hesitant in his claiming of Swap for his side in the Guardians' of Feelings little war, too unwilling to send Swap into the field just yet. Well, now was as good a time as any, he supposed, hesitantly resting a hand on Swap’s shoulder all while not breaking eye contact with the pathetic form of his “brother.” 

“I assume things need to be cleared up,” Nightmare’s icily calm voice stated rather than asked. “Your little.. teammate… came to me willingly. He is under my protection. He is mine.” 

Swap tensed slightly in Nightmare’s hold, soothed a moment later by a stroke of a dark-boned hand. His figure slumped with the motion, put to a light rest with a simple whispered command. 

“Y-You.. Night, don- don’t… don’t.. he woul.. wouldn’t.” The skeleton really wasn’t sure what he was begging for, but the words tumbled out past the pain. “Blue’s not li-like that. He couldn’t ev.. ever..” 

The oozing form of the self-proclaimed King of Negativity smiled down at him in a wicked way, all sharp and antagonizing. He leaned down closer to Dream, presence intimidating even as he cradled Swap to his chest like a baby-bones. 

“If you think he couldn’t… then you never really knew him at all, did you?” 

Dream didn’t have a response for that. 

Nightmare knew it, too. His smile dropped as he stared down at the gold-clad man. “You’re really pathetic,” He said, entirely unsympathetic. “Swap sought me out, on the brink of exhaustion and with no defense. He didn’t want to help me. He didn’t want to betray you.” 

He wanted to escape you. I don’t want to think you could be so oblivious, but.. it seems I gave you too much credit, ‘brother.’”

Pain wracked the Guardian, Nightmare’s boot coming down on his still-mending leg. The raw negativity in the disgusting tar which coated his form was searing on Dream’s bones. He screamed, hands clawing at the snow while he tried in vain to pull away. Nightmare slowly rolled his foot, taking satisfaction in the feel of bone crunching under it. Finally he grew bored of the screams, letting the pressure up and turning around without another word. A portal opened with a strike of a tentacle, and then Nightmare and his ward were gone.

Dream didn’t know how long he laid there, panting in the snow. Waiting for his leg to heal itself.

He couldn’t understand. Where had he gone wrong? Blue, so happy and kind and selfless and loving, strong though so, so fragile.. Dream couldn’t imagine his friend ever turning to evil. Nightmare’s voice rang painfully in his head. It wasn’t about being good or bad, for .. Swap. It was about…

Not being with Dream, not being with Ink. If they were on the other side, would Bl- Swap have left evil for good, too? Something told him, yes, he would. But- why? What had happened? Yes, it was dangerous, but it was dangerous for Nightmare’s troupe, too. Swap’s AU had been a casualty, but that wasn’t a fault to Dream nor Ink; if that were the case, it’d make more sense that he run from Error. 

No, this was personal. It had to be. But- What had he ever done? What had Ink done? Dream had done his best to keep Swap happy. How could he have felt so bad without the Guardian noticing?

… Oh. 

Dream pushed himself up to his feet, testing his freshly healed leg. There was shouting not too far in the distance, coming from the house Swap had been hiding out in. He paid no mind to the noise or negativity, tried to ignore the lurch of his SOUL and the urge to press out his aura and to help the arguing monsters’ feel better. 

Maybe Dream had messed up. 

///

Previous < > Next

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

The Sounds of Justice (6)

Warnings: canon typical violence, cursing, non-consensual drugging, descriptions of character death, mentions and descriptions of jail, car crashes, lying, manipulation, guns, yandere themes, mafia AU, mafia Rafael Barba (trust me, he needs the warning), mentions of rape (not to the reader), and unwanted advances (nothing happens to the reader).

Dutch translations from Google Translate:

Het spijt me dat ik je stoor.  Mag ik alsjeblieft je telefoon gebruiken? - I'm sorry to bother you. Can I please use your phone?

Je bent hier veilig. - You're safe here.

Haast u niet. - Don't rush/Take your time.

Dankuwel. - Thank you (formal).

Chapter 6

Your awareness returned to you in a rush of thoughts.  You weren’t sure how long you had been unconscious.  An hour?  Two?  What had happened to Sonny?  Had he been dosed with the same drugs that you had?  Or had he been simply knocked unconscious?  You hoped it was the latter. 

And what did the man who drugged you mean by “You’re lucky the boss wants you alive and mostly uninjured?”  You had so many questions and you knew that you wouldn’t get any answers by lying where you were and giving in to the fear that your tumultuous thoughts were slowly feeding.

You couldn’t hear any indicators that anyone was in the room with you but to be absolutely positive, you cracked an eye open as silently as you dared.  Your vision was blurry however that cleared within two heartbeats and with your opened eye, you looked in front of you.  You opened your other eye and looked to the left and the right before examining the area behind you.

Fortunately, there was nobody there.  You took note of your surroundings and after it registered that you were apparently still in the warehouse, you braced yourself on your knees and stood up.  Your legs trembled alarmingly and you seriously thought that you were going to fall.  Your fear returned and it was stronger this time.

“Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear – not absence of fear.”  You breathed.  Whispering the quote from Mark Twain helped to distract your brain from the sense of fear that you were feeling and your breathing eased.

You mouthed the words of the quote twice more before you felt composed enough to begin making your way around the warehouse to search for Sonny.  All the lessons from the NCIS training that you experienced as a probationary agent came whooshing back.  You moved quietly back the way you had come and you spied yours and Sonny’s weapons discarded in front of the locked warehouse doors.

As you drew closer to them, you noticed a familiar shape lying between you and the weapons starting to stir.

“Sonny.”  You uttered in a quiet exhale.

The detective let out a groan and then promptly covered his mouth.  His blue eyes darted around the warehouse jerkily and he sagged in relief when he noticed that you were the only other person in the warehouse.

“Are you hurt?” He questioned quietly.

Your admiration and respect for the man grew.  He was just knocked out and his first question was about your welfare.  You shook your head, “I know how the victims are drugged.  They did it to me but I think it’s mostly worn off.  Either that or I was given a lower dose.  Our attacker said something about his boss wanting me alive and mostly uninjured.  Did he…?”

Sonny knew you meant your attacker.  He was about to respond to your question when the both of you heard a car door slam and footsteps approach the entrance to the warehouse.  Sonny put a finger to his lips and looked longingly at his gun that was lying a few centimetres away.  You understood his desire to scoop up his gun but neither of you could risk making any sound and grabbing your guns to arm yourself might draw the attacker’s attention to you.  And that would lead to an even worse scenario than the situation you and Sonny found yourselves in.

A voice reached your ears and you realised that your assailant had stopped on the other side of the door.  You heard him rattle off two sets of numbers in another language and you wished you understood what they were.  Because of your time with Tony, you were able to identify some of the numbers and the fact that your assailant was counting in Italian. 

“After we solve this case, I’m gonna bribe Tony to teach me Italian.  If that doesn’t work; I’ll teach myself.”

You looked over at Sonny and watched as his hand traced shapes on the cold concrete.  With a sudden burst of clarity, you inferred that Sonny could communicate in Italian and he was tracing the numbers on the concrete so that they would stick in his memory.

Then the numbers became words and the words became a one-sided conversation.  They sounded different as if the assailant had switched languages.  You watched as Sonny mouthed the words as your assailant said them.  You sent up a prayer of thanks to any deity that was listening for pairing you and Sonny together on this mission.

The conversation stopped and you switched your gaze from Sonny to your guns that were lying just out of reach.  Again, you fought the temptation to grab them.  You waited for any sound that would give you a clue as to what was happening on the other side of the door and then finally, you heard a car door creaking open, slamming shut and an engine starting.

You waited a few more heartbeats and listened as the sound of the car grew softer and softer.  Throwing caution to the winds, your arm snapped forwards and you snatched the pistols from the ground. 

You closed your eyes and breathed out a disappointed sigh as you felt how light they were.  “He took out the bullets,” you groaned as you handed Sonny his pistol.

“And we left our phones back at the station,” Sonny chimed in.

“Perfect.”  You grimaced, flexing your right leg.  Something hard pressed against your right ankle.  It took far too long for you to remember what it was but when you did, a plan started forming in your mind.

You pulled up the right leg of your pants and pulled down your sock.  “Saving the day as always, boss.”  You grinned as you gripped the hilt of your hidden knife.

“Your boss encourages you to hide a knife on your body?”  Sonny asked in amazement.

“It’s Rule 9.”  You answered. 

“Of course.”  Sonny said wryly, rolling his eyes.  “Why am I not surprised?”

Next, you checked your gun, “Our attacker left the firing pin in.”  Your grin grew broader as you removed the pin.

Cottoning on to your plan, Sonny stood up and walked over to the doors.  There was a small gap that was letting some light in and you could see a heavy padlock hanging on a metal chain in the middle of the two doors.  Sonny slid his hand through the gap and grabbed the padlock.  He angled it towards you and you were about to use your knife and firing pin when Sonny offered you the firing pin from his gun.

“This might work better.”

Touched by his gesture, you hid the knife behind your sock again and rolled down your pant leg before accepting the offered object.

“So did your boss teach you how to pick locks too?” Sonny asked.

“No.  Another agent did that.”  You responded as you remembered Kate.  Thanks to her lessons, it didn’t take you long to pick the lock and once the lock was open, you unhooked the padlock and detangled the chain.  With a strong push from Sonny, the doors swung open and the two of you stumbled into the fading sunlight.

Sonny held up a hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight, “I’d say we’ve got about two hours before sunset.”  He estimated and then he looked around the street.  “Not much is open but I know that there’s a Dutch restaurant one block from here.  The only problem might be the language barrier.  The owners are on the older side and because they’re not technically open for business yet, they may not talk in English, only Dutch.”

“That’s not a problem.  We’ll head there.  You just keep concentrating on what you overheard while our assailant was talking.”

Sonny directed you to the Dutch restaurant and just as he predicted, the elderly couple that ran the place answered the door and greeted you both in Dutch.

Their eyes lit up when you responded in the same language and they beckoned you in, ushering you to a booth.   They murmured about how you didn’t look well.

“Het spijt me dat ik je stoor.  Mag ik alsjeblieft je telefoon gebruiken?”  You asked.

The man nodded and brought you their phone.  He then disappeared into the kitchen while the lady sat down in the same spot that her husband did.  Your fingers shook as you tried to dial Gibbs’ number.  Noticing this, the woman spoke.

“Je bent hier veilig.”  She assured you.  “Haast u niet.”

Exhaling, you tried to dial Gibbs’ number again.  This time your fingers cooperated and the call went through.

“Gibbs.”

“Boss.”  You were so relieved that you thought you would burst.

“Where the hell are you Agent?  Abby’s been trying to reach you and Carisi!  She figured out that the drug is a chemical compound of synthetic alcohol and Doxacurium!  You left your phones here and then you and Carisi went off the grid.”  You winced at the reminder that you had left your phones behind and you had unthinkingly broken Rule 3 while Sonny had unknowingly broken it.

“We took the call about another potential victim but we were ambushed at the warehouse.  Sonny was knocked out and his attacker force fed me some drugged lollies.  I’m pretty sure that the drug has almost completely left my system.”

You could picture the expression on your boss’ face.  Worry would have transformed into rage the second you mentioned you and Sonny being ambushed.  His mouth would be set in a thin line and he would have glared at everyone to be quiet as he listened to what you had to say.

“After I came to we realised that the doors were chained and locked shut so I picked the lock using the firing pins from our guns.  Our attacker took out the bullets and left the empty guns in the warehouse with us.  I’m going to put Sonny on the phone.  Our assailant spoke Italian as he dialled a number on his phone and then he had a conversation in another language.”

“It was Spanish,”  Sonny added helpfully as you handed him the phone.  Needing no prompting, Sonny launched into the translated version of the conversation that he’d overheard after explaining to Gibbs that while he can communicate fluently in Italian and was able to identify the numbers that your attacker muttered as he dialled (Sonny relayed those to Gibbs), he could only get most of the conversation not the finer points due to some words being different.

As Sonny talked, the man came back from the kitchen holding two glasses of Kwast and some bread rolls with butter.  He put the glasses along with sandwich plates and forks and knives in front of you and Sonny and looked at you two watchfully as Sonny hung up the phone. 

Judging by the expression that Sonny wore, he understood that now was the time to thank his hosts and eat and drink.  You received the same message.

Sonny leant over to you, “How do you say thank you in Dutch?”

“The best word to use in this context would be Dankuwel.”  You whispered back.

The two of you spoke at the same time “Dankuwel.”

“Not bad.”  The man commented.  “You speak Nederlands well.”  He said to you.  “You,” he faced Sonny.  “Need some more practice.  Keep at it.”

“Eat.  Drink.”  His wife commanded severely.  “We will keep an eye on you.”

She and her husband left the two of you alone and Sonny looked at the two of them nervously as they stood at the counter.

“What did Gibbs say?” You asked, taking a sip of your Kwast.  The hot beverage slid down your throat easily and you hummed at the honey and lemon flavours.

“He told me to tell you that we should sit tight.  They’re gonna track the numbers.  I heard Torres in the background talking about using an app called “Find My Phone.”  Apparently it works even if the phone is off.”

“It does.”  You confirmed.  “I’ve used it in the past.”

“Gibbs was quiet when I was talking.”  Sonny revealed.  “Is that a bad sign?”

“That means he’s processing.  He usually gets like that before an interrogation.”

“Let me guess.  You have a rule for not interrupting your boss during an interrogation.”  Sonny took a long sip of his Kwast and looked at the glass in shock.  You chuckled at his surprised expression. 

“I wasn’t expecting it to taste like this.”  Sonny divulged.   “I meant it in a good way.  It’s sweet and pleasant.”  He added when he saw the look on your face.

“To answer your question, yes.  That’s Rule 22.”

“Maybe I should start creating my own set of rules.”

“Sounds like a plan.  You already know my first one.”

“And now I’ve got mine.  Never go on a callout without eating something first.”  Sonny used a knife to cut a roll in half and he used the same knife to butter the halves of the roll before lifting it to his mouth and taking a bite.

[waffliesinyoface]

This is completely unedited, but im still posting it.

The training grounds were peaceful after sunset. Konoha had enough of them that it was never hard to find an empty one, but most shinobi preferred waking up early and training in the morning.

Hasami stifled a yawn. Just her luck that even her insomnia had persisted across reincarnation. She'd gone home after finishing the latest D-rank mission, eaten an early dinner, and promptly passed out on the couch. What she'd intended to be a quick powernap had lasted for five *hours* instead of twenty minutes. Which meant she had absolutely no chance of going *back* to sleep unless she'd gone out and actually done something.

Well, hasami mused, at the very least, odd hours were almost seen as a virtue among ninja. Missions outside the village didn't exactly keep a strict schedule, after all.

Hasami looked at the sky. She hadn't thought to bring a watch, but judging by the position of the moon it was... probably around 1:30? So she'd been training for nearly 4 hours. Light exercise, by ninja standards.

------

She'd meant to just head home. She really did. But training meant working up an appetite, and without thinking, her feet had lead her to the shopping district.

Most shinobi, when given the choice between another night camping or pushing for a couple more hours and sleeping in their own bed, opted for the latter if they could help it. More than a few food stands and izakaya had taken notice - a ninja returning home late was also a ninja who had been out in the field for quite some time, and had been eating nothing but wild game and ration bars. The owners didn't even need to advertise.

One such restaurant was Ichiraku Ramen.

Prior to her reincarnation, Hasami had wondered if Ichiraku was really that good, or if Naruto had liked it because nobody there had ever thrown him out. She had to see for herself, right?

She'd gotten hooked immediately.

Ichiraku had turned out to be one of those shabby little hole-in-the-wall restaurants that never went out of business because it honestly was just that good. As far as Hasami was concerned, Teuchi was a national treasure.

It also didn't hurt that exercise meant sweating, which meant her body was really, really craving salt. She had no choice, really. Hands were tied.

-----

"Not that we don't appreciate the business, Hasami-chan, but is it really alright for you to be out so late?" Ayame honestly looked a little concerned. "You're young, you should be in bed by now."

Hasami tried her hardest not to be annoyed. She used to be an adult, so she understood where Ayame was coming from, because if she had seen a twelve year old kid wandering around at nearly two in the morning, she also would have been concerned. But because of that, it also meant that being treated like a child had gotten old quickly. It'd lessened once she got her hitae-ate, but she still got looks sometimes. Unfair.

"I just got caught up with training, is all. Don't worry about it, I can take care of myself." She was perfectly aware that she sounded like an actual overconfident twelve year old but that didn't make it any less true. She was armed. Potentially dangerous, even.

Ayame smiled. "No, no, I don't mean like that. I'm sure you're very capable Hasami-chan." She then leaned forward and started to whisper conspiratorially, "But if you don't get enough sleep, you'll never hit your growth spurt, you know~? It's important if you wanna grow big and strong!"

Hasami's annoyance rapidly shifted to mortification. Oh no. Oh god. Why. This was actually incomparably worse than Ayame being concerned for her safety. She quickly slurped down the remainder of her noodles to avoid responding. "ThanksForTheMealIGottaGoNowBye!!" She slapped down the money on the counter and ran off in what she did her best to pretend was a dignified manner.

"Good niiiight, Hasami-chaaan~!"

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

Hasami: *sees ayame* oh shes obviously An Adult seeing me like a child, ughhh

Ayame: *is actually 17*

Ayame: *big sister instincts activating* what if i teased her, for fun

[marshmallowprotection]

Kait, would Saeran be okay with just sharing comfortable silence with me? These days... even mere words felt overwhelming to me. I don't want to be left alone but I also don't want to talk about anything to him. So I wonder if he would be fine with it. Perhaps you could write a little comfort drabble related to this?

The silence used to make him uncomfortable but there was nothing he could do about it. Well, that would be a lie, wouldn't it? It wasn't the silence that bothered him. It was the noises found in the silence that nobody would think of. The sound of your own breathing, the faintest noise of a breeze against the roof, and whispers that didn't belong to you but you couldn't trace it.

That silence was louder than any explosion.

Saeran lived that way for as long as he could remember.

There was no choice but to adapt. Every now and again his older brother would do something to make it less overwhelming; telling stories or trying to talk in circles until he passed out from exhaustion, that helped most of the time. But, when his brother left, he had no choice but to live in the deafening noise of reality. Every moment was a sensory nightmare that he lived in agony.

The only thing he could do about it was cry, and he wasn't even able to do that. Any noise just above a little whisper would be enough to enrage his mother and start a toxic cycle that wouldn't end no matter how much he pleaded with her to let him go and to stop. That uncomfortable feeling stuck with him for years. Throughout everything he went through and suffered, there always needed to be something that killed the silence. Most of the time, it was the white noise of a small fan.

The silence was a scary thing if only because it could create overwhelming noise. He learned to accept it, and he hid his discomfort well, but it wasn't something he could hide from you. Even if he did, you would see right through him before he could lie through his teeth.

He promised you that he would never lie to you, and that was why he was honest with the reason why he couldn't sit still when things got too quiet. He had no choice but to fidget and think about every little thing that was happening all at once. It was scary to think about, but, being with you made the silence a little less scary.

Part of the reason why it was so scary was because he felt like he was alone. If he was alone, he could succumb to his paranoia and every fear he imagined would trickle up his spine no matter how hard he tried to avoid it. Being with you made the silence feel less daunting.

Even in those moments when you said nothing and he said nothing, he didn't feel as though the world was going to collapse. It was definitely a step in the right direction. But, he understood that you had a different need than he did. It wasn't that he wanted to talk your ear off or live in a world without a mere second lacking sound, it was more like he wanted to know that it was okay to have something.

Of course, when he looked at you with those eyes trying to figure out if you wanted to be in absolute silence, you couldn't help but laugh a little. You did want to sit in comfortable silence... but you didn't want the world to be completely silent. You weren't asking him to be in a room where there was nothing but the sound of his breathing. You just wanted the ability not to say anything if you didn't want to talk.

That's where healthy communication paid off. It was how the two of you found a way to satisfy both of your needs. You could sit with him at your side while the sounds of a radio or the television played in the background so it wouldn't be without sound, but it would be enough for you and him to feel safe.

You didn't have to stress yourself out with trying to fill in the noise and he didn't have to worry about forcing himself to be okay with the feeling of his skin crawling again.

No, you comfortably leaned into his side while he brushed his lips against the side of your head. This was where you wanted to be and it was where he wanted to be, too. It might not have been perfect every step of the way but What mattered was that you two were willing to find a way to make it work.