#there's gotta be conflict and strangeness

[secondbeatsongs]

[ID: tags reading "#don't ship lithium ion batteries or flammable liquids without declaring them #it is dangerous and postal workers deserve to know which packages to treat with care" /End ID]

"don't ship—" i will just be doing whatever the fuck i want actually

[siolixz]

⋆｡°✩ Of Love and Loyalty⋆｡°✩

+18

Part 1

<Part 2><Part 3: final>

Pairings: Oz "The Penguin" Cobb x Reader

Reader takes Victor's place in this story. She and Oz have a difficult relationship- he clearly likes her and she is conflicted in her feelings towards him (Eve doesn't have a sexual relationship with Oz in this). While I am between chapters, I decided to write this. Life has been so busy lately- so I apologize. Everyone in this story is 18+ and consenting. I've listened to Lana while writing this sooooo

Enjoy and give feedback If you want :)

Warnings: mentions of violence, smut , gunplay (¬‿¬)

After the death of your parents you were in a bad place, evidently. In a bad place, with the wrong type of people- stealing rims; trying to get by and scraping for food every day, life was miserable in Crown Point and it seemed like there was no way out.

 Not until he found you; shots firing by your head- he cornered you in the street- with a gun in your face. 

“P-please, please do-don’t.” all the words your stupid mouth could pronounce, he looked at you and he decided you were going to live- for the time being. 

This man, he was like a force of nature- so different, so strange. He was the most terrifying person you ever met in your life, from the way he carried himself to the way he dressed- you knew he was a mobster. Someone that the boys on the block, the ones that thought they were ‘tough’ and bullied people like you- people that needed help- could only ever dream of being like. 

Only in small glimpses could you see the man that was underneath; he was lonely, that much you knew- he was a man who dreamed of being respected, of being feared and loved, by all- maybe by you too, by the way you would catch him staring at you, the way he touched you sometimes- on your shoulder, on your hips- one time he brushed the hair out of your face, small acts of domestic kindness gave you glimpses into his desires, his wants and needs.  

“Where you from, kid?” He asked you about your life, he listened and he showed how kind he was, regarding your father and mother and your sister, for the first time since the traumatic event someone listened- everything, everything was taken from you.

He told you, “You have to be hard as nails, think on your feet.” He was right, people like you had to fight for the things they needed, the things they had to get in order to survive. He was like a mentor, you looked up to him, really- you did, but you were also scared, scared that one day you’re gonna do something wrong- say something wrong and he will put a bullet between your eyes before you know it. You couldn’t leave, if you did he was going to find you- the thought of that sent shivers down your spine.

As Robert told you about him leaving for California, you felt a rug being pulled from underneath you- he was the only thing tying you to your old life, the old you. The one who used to sneak into abandoned buildings with your friends; the one who ran home from school to meet up with him and your other friends to hang outside together- to enjoy life. 

“Why-why would you do that? Your whole life is here” you asked him. You and Robert enjoyed each other’s company, he kissed you a few times but that was all, he wasn’t your boyfriend, though you cared for each other.

“Not anymore” he told you “Our families are dead…we gotta care for ourselves now. Look at you, living in this nice apartment- it’s crazy he lets you stay here.” He looked around, almost not believing HE was here, let alone you. You told him that you do some paperwork for this club owner and he lets you stay in one of his spare apartments as payment, a good enough lie, he didn’t probe further. 

“Wh-when are you leaving?” you asked and as he told you that tomorrow night- you wanted to cry, beg him to stay.

“You could come with me” he grabbed your hands and leaned down to look at you “we could start over.” 

You looked at him and nodded “Robert, I-i’m not sure he…he will let me leave.” You took a deep breath. 

“Who? Your boss?” he asked.” Why would he care if you left? Does he-“ Robert took a pause, debating if he was going to ask you this or not “-does he ask for other things too?” You knew exactly what he was referring to. 

“N-no, nothing like that. Robert... this guy, he’s not just like a-a club owner.” you looked him in the eyes, trying to find a way to break this to him “He-he’s like…like a gangster.”

Robert’s eyes went wide “Then you definitely shouldn’t work for this guy. You need to leave.” He’s right, you did need to leave.

How is he gonna know? He’s too busy with Sofia to care for the moment, too concentrated on the new drug- this could be a way out- to get out of this city- for good this time. Leave all the pain in Gotham, start a new life.

 “The bus is leaving tomorrow night, 11pm, promise i’ll see you there?”

“Yes, promise.’ He gave you a quick kiss and left. 

After he came back home, he told you every detail he could think about. He seemed excited, that’s good. He told you he’s gonna need you tomorrow, he had a meeting with the Triads, apparently he forged an alliance with Sofia. Good, good for him, you were happy. Way too happy to see HIM happy, he was your captor- you shouldn't be happy for him.

Too bad you’re not gonna stick around to find out how the deal ends.

 While you were thinking of ways you could tell him about you disappearing while you waited in the Maserati- you were interrupted by a cop and you followed your ‘mentor’s’ words, “think on your feet”---he told you that evening that he was proud of you; as he smiled and grabbed your hand at the lunch you had to observe Luca’s wife at. 

This ‘intimacy’ he placed on you, he was going further and further every day. You didn’t want this, did you? Your stomach did a flip whenever he touched you or looked at you, maybe you wanted to be loved too, protected. 

Oz was also a charismatic man and pretty funny too, so what's not to like? Besides all the killing, he joked around with you and it seemed he enjoyed when you would give him a remark back, when you showed him you had it in you. 

You were leaving tomorrow, when he was gonna be busy at the club- his club. As he was talking to Sofia, he instructed you to be the supplier to the hookers giving the people in the club ‘Bliss’ that’s how he called it. 

His idea, you were sure.  You had to be dressed the part, in a tight white dress so short you couldn’t bend over at all in, your breasts barely covered by the material. 

Between trying to calm your nerves and trying to ignore the way Oz was looking you up and down like a starving man looking at a 3 course meal- this night was going to be hard to get through. 

But you already made a plan, when everyone was distracted, the girls with the customers and Oz with the Triads- you were going to escape. Out the back door and into the night- for a chance at a better life. 

As the evening went on the girls were becoming more and more demanding, people loved ‘Bliss’ and they sure loved you, when you came by- with the product in your purse they cheered for you; they knew your name, some even hit on you- but that’s not important.  

You had to “get your head in the game” like he would say, Oz, it felt so wrong to think like this but you felt bad, a part of you felt like you were gonna let him down- break his heart.

You weren’t ambitious like he taught you to be, you were a coward, afraid of a life like this, afraid of a life with him. 

He was always so full of confidence, of pride- you wanted him to be proud of you too.  Maybe he was going to be so happy he was gonna take the next step and kiss you, you didn’t want this, did you? This dangerous man, he killed people, he murdered them in cold blood and he liked it too.

He was also kind and funny and lonely, so lonely; you were lonely too, you could have a better life here in Gotham, as well- under his wing. 

You checked your phone “Bus is leaving in one hr, u coming?” Robert texted you.

Yes, yes of course you were coming, you had to get to the staff bathroom- upstairs, so you could leave his cash there; change into your old clothes- jeans and a t-shirt- blend into the crowd and leave. 

As Roxy called out your name and pulled you into the crowd, ‘to dance’ she yelled. You couldn’t look suspicious, play the part- play the part, you repeated in your head. 

“You two look like a match.” She yelled in your ear and smirked at you.

“Wh-who?” 

“You and the big boss” she grabbed your waist almost embracing you “Did you fuck him yet? Or are you saving yourself for marriage?” She giggled in your ear as she told you that.

“No.” You answered, clear as day. You saw the way they looked at you- back at Oz’s apartment, you just thought you looked different from them, they were all dressed so nice and you looked like you’ve been to hell and back, because you did- so that’s why they were whispering and giggling to themselves about. 

You told Roxy you had to go, said your goodbyes and you left immediately after. 

In the bathroom, you looked another time at your phone- “Bus is leaving in 30 min. Pls come.” Ok, you had to leav-

“Doll, we fucking did it! Triads are in.” The sound of the door being opened hard enough it almost fell off its hinges, made you immediately drop your phone near the sink ”Oh, it was sweet, you should’ve seen it. We gotta play it safe I mean I still got the Maronis on my ass.” he smiled at you, flashing his gold teeth and started to point his finger towards you.

“But you! Look at you, you fucking did it. I’m proud of you, so fucking proud of you!” He came closer to you and grabbed your face- cradling it, “I told Roxy to order some of that red wine you like- the good stuff, cmon!” He grabbed your upper arm and in the worst timing possible-your phone started ringing near the sink- you quickly turned around and closed it. 

“Give it to me-” He’s going to kill you. 

“Oz-”

“Now, GODDAMIT!” he yelled and you jumped. Your heart beating a thousand miles per hour, he couldn’t see what the texts were, he was going to go crazy. Now for sure, he was going to kill you. Great. You unlocked your phone and gave it to him, your knees felt like play doh.  

As he blinked and looked down at your phone, you could see him scroll through the messages. He looked up at you and you could swear you could see him think about what he was gonna say to you. This man- who was never quiet-was reduced to silence, for the first time since you met him.  God, this was a mistake, why did you want to leave, you didn’t want to leave him.

“We’re this fucking close and you wanna bail on me like that, for what? Some fucking guy who doesn’t care about you.” he said, brows furrowed. He didn’t know Robert, didn’t know if he cared about you or not, yet he is pretty sure he doesn’t- maybe he cares more than him. “With my fucking money, huh?” he asked, after looking at your purse and you. 

“N-no, I swear, it’s not-not about that.” You pleaded, hopefully he was gonna listen, please listen, you thought. 

“What did you have huh? Before I found you? Nothing.” He was right, you did have nothing “I gave you food, shelter, a job and I’m still not good enough for you-”

“Oz, n-no this isn't about that.” you pleaded.

“It sure as shit looks like it. You think you’re too good for this life. You wanna go? Whadya waitin’ for?” he moved his much larger body out of the way, so you could have a clear path towards the door “Fucking go.” He looked almost sad- desperate in a way.

“I-i can’t.” You couldn’t leave, he was going to kill you; he told you that- multiple times.

“The fuck, you think I’m holding you hostage or something? Like you’re my prisoner” Yes, you are. Maybe you liked it, maybe this whole ‘im gonna escape' thing was all a bluff, you wanted a life like this, it excited you, it made your heart race- like he did. 

He moved his hand beneath his jacket and before you knew it- he pointed his gun at you.

“Oz-oz, hey-“ you started

“What did you have, huh? Before I found you?” He slowly started to move towards you, gun shoved near your face. “Fucking nothing. You were nothing. I would kill for you- I gave you so much of what I had, you have all the opportunity in the fucking world.” He came close enough you could smell his cologne and the whiskey on his breath “But this” he pressed the gun next to your head “this is all you feel!” His voice was breaking. 

“N-no-“ you tried to find the words to change his demeanor. You almost started to cry, your heart fell to your ass and you wanted the ground to swallow you whole right now

“This is all you feel, huh? Being with me?”  He looked into your eyes, his own brown eyes were being illuminated by the bathroom you were in, almost reddish- showing the anger and disappointment he probably felt- you let him down. 

“What else did you tell him, huh?” He asked, once he removed the gun from your temple, as he trailed it down your body, from your neck to your belly. “That I’m in the mob... that I kill people, that you helped hide a fucking dead body?” 

He was so close to you, the way he pressed you against the wall- reminding you of the first time you met him. “That I wanna fuck you?” He whispered.

His question made your ears and cheeks flush with blood and your heartbeat start pounding even more- if that was even possible. His gun trailed even lower and you thought he stopped pointing it at you, until you felt the cold barrel of it on your leg- goosebumps appeared on your skin, he trailed it up and up until it gripped your tight dress from underneath. 

His pupils were blown wide and his breath was getting heavier. “Truth is, you always had a choice.” He moved the gun even higher and with the help of his hand your thongs were on full display in front of him, your dress on your waist.  

He moved his gun to the front of your panties, pressing against your pubic bone- you didn't want to look down and stare at the shameful display.  

“And you choose to stay.” As he moved the gun near the part of the thong that was covering your clit and moved it down there, you couldn’t help the moan that escaped you and you looked down, partially because this was so shameful and partly because you didn’t want him to see how turned on you were. 

As you opened your eyes when you looked down- you saw his boner in his pants and the gun he had pointed towards you and the way he held it- like he actually was going to shoot you. 

“I’m-I’m sorry.” You whispered, hoping this would be enough. Maybe you could move on- you didn’t mean it. 

“Look at me.” you reluctantly raised your head “This is what you want, this life- doing this...Don’t fucking lie to yourself. You want to be more than your parents, be someone.” He looked at your lips and then back up into your eyes, as you remained quiet he pressed the gun even harder against your clothed clit. 

“M-my parents would be ash-ashamed of me.” He pressed it even harder “please.”

“Please what? You have to use your words doll.” He gave you a glinted smile- he enjoyed this immensely, what a sick man. “Maybe I can give your little boyfriend a call, have my men go after him and put a bullet in his fucking head. “ 

“You wanna be nothing, great, you already are.” He moved his gun from the right hand to the left and replaced the cold barrel of the pistol with his fingers; the warmth of them was warmly greeted with your involuntary moan. He moved the gun right under your chin- you wanted to cry again, your eyes were closed. He was capable of anything. Don’t cry in front of him, don’t do it.  

He started tracing circles on your clit and as you opened your mouth to breath out a moan, he pressed his lips to yours- tongue touching your upper lip. You were scared, so fucking scared, all you felt since meeting him was this- attraction and fear. All of it led to this moment, a breaking point he reached once he thought you were gonna leave him.

“Open your mouth” he was mere inches away from your lips, he moved the gun next to your body again, pressing into you “open.”- you obeyed. The size of him alone pressing into you was almost suffocating. 

You tried to kiss back- in all your shocked state, truly, you tried. His touches on the most sensitive part of your body were becoming erratic, too busy with the fact he was kissing you. He left your clit and started groping your breasts, almost painfully, you gave him a groan of pleasure mixed with the uncomfortable feeling of having a man his size shove himself over you, touching you anywhere he could get his hands on. 

“You talk about leaving me but you’re so fucking wet.” a trail of saliva connected your mouths “You wanted this.” This wasn’t how you thought the night would end, with your boss on top of you. “Still think I’m wrong?” He removed himself from on top of you and grabbed your arm- putting you in front of the mirror, with him behind you; gun still in his hand.

You saw him pull himself out of his pants and shuddered, maybe in fear and maybe in lust too, this big scary man. Almost crying just because you wanted to leave him, you’ve only known him for a few weeks. 

You were holding yourself up on your hands and as he pulled your panties to the side and slowly entered you, you saw him close his eyes in pleasure and then look back down at the way you took him.

He pressed the palm of his hand on your back; so you leaned forward even more, giving him an eyeful of you and him.

You almost felt like screaming when he buried himself so deep into you the next second, you’re pretty sure you did. What if one of the girls came in? You’re pretty sure Oz wouldn’t give less of a fuck about that right now. 

“Ow fucckk..” he looked up and back down again before setting a pace that made your knees almost give out, thank God you were holding yourself up. He grabbed one of your legs and put them on the sink so he could bury himself even deeper. 

When you felt something cold once again on your head you knew he had the gun pointed again at you; your blood ran cold. “You wanted to leave me..I own you.. I fucking own you” He smacked your bum so hard you knew it would leave a mark; with his eyebrows furrowed and a slight smile he asked you “Tell me, who owns you?” he wants to humiliate you, you thought you had a choice; that you could leave, you never had a choice; never will.

You felt like your cheeks would light on fire by the embarrassment you felt, either way, you had to obey him.

“Y-you” you shamefully lowered your head; closing your eyes, God it felt good to be fucked like this, minus the gun, on second thought, maybe with the gun was better. This was sick.

“Didn’t fucking hear you!” he roughly grabbed your hair and pulled you flush against him, with one hand he held the gun under your chin, with the other he grabbed your breast and fucked you against the sink. You didn’t know what to grab- so one of your hands instinctively grabbed the one he had against your boob- to pull him away if he grabbed you as hard as he did before and with the other-you held the one that had the gun. 

He pressed his nose against your cheek, “Who owns this pussy too, huh?” he kissed the side of your face, he wasn’t going to stop, was he?

Not only were you getting fucked by a man decades older, he practically could do whatever he wanted with you; kill you, fuck you, make you beg for him.

 “You do.” You hated saying this and loved it at the same time- the way he felt inside you, his big hands on you, the same hands that killed so many people without so much as a second thought- this was too much.

“Jesus…you’re fucking drenched.” He wasn’t lying, besides the muffled sounds of music from outside- the only sound in the room was the one your bodies made and the occasional groan from him and your moans, only you two could hear them- at least you hoped. 

“I’m gonna cum…tell me you want me to cum.. tell me you want it inside.” Goosebumps appeared on your skin and your thighs started shaking a little, either by the size of him or in anticipation, you didn’t know.

“I want it, please.” you told him, at this point his face was buried in your neck and his pace was losing momentum so you pushed yourself up against him; again and again.

 “Please what? Please what?!” he asked while fucking you

 “I want you to cum in-inside.” This whole ordeal, it got you so spent up you felt tears in your eyes; he shoved himself as deep as he could inside of you, pushing your body next to the sink until it was painful and you felt the way his cock was pulsing inside of you. 

“You’re not going anywhere.” he kissed you on your cheek. “You’re not going anywhere.” he whispered again. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's note: Dude you fucked your own criminal kingpin boss?

Hope you liked the story, have a good day xoxomxxoxoxo

[grlsinterrupted]

Hi can you do a Dallas x fem!reader where they're dating and she wears glasses but he doesn't know because she doesn't wear them outside of school (literally me😓) and one day she wears them around him causes she's gotten used to it but he's like so confused cause he's never seen her wear them or mention them ty💗💗 (sorry its such a long request😭)

i wanna kiss, kiss your eyes again .. wanna witness your eyes lookin’ ‧₊˚ ✧

wait, you wear glasses ?! | dallas winston x glasses wearer ! reader ⋆｡˚

-

it’d never occurred to you that throughout the 6 months you and dallas have been dating, he’d never seen you with your glasses on. then again, you only ever wore them while you were at school, where the writing on the board was impossible to decipher all the way from your seat. despite the number of times you’d asked your teachers for a spot closer to the board, they denied your request every time.

after school, you never quite bothered with your glasses. sure, you’d have to suffer the consequence of blurred vision, but a little squinting’s never hurt anybody. your glasses made you look like a nerd, anyway.

a few nights prior, dallas called you to ask if you wanted to go to the cinema with him. ponyboy wouldn’t stop rambling on and on about a new horror movie they’ve been playing in the theater, and as annoyed as dallas was having to deal with pony’s constant ranting, he figured he’d take you to go see what the rage was all about.

you were in your room, adding the final touches to your makeup as you swayed your head to the beat of lesley gore’s new song. right as you were looking for your blush palette, your eyes stumbled across a pair of baby-pink cateye glasses. for a second, you glared intensely at the glasses, almost as if you were in a staring contest with them. you were conflicted between wearing them and leaving them in your room for the rest of the night. even though you knew dallas would find it strange, you also realized that you wouldn’t be able to see anything playing on the screen.

you let out an deep exhale, lightly grazing your hand against the lenses before finally slipping the glasses on. what could be the harm in wearing a stupid pair of glasses, anyway? your boyfriend has seen you at your highs and your lows, the best and the worst parts of you, so your decision to wear them tonight was really nothing compared to everything the two of you have been through together.

you step out of your house, knocking on the window of buck’s car. dallas nearly dropped his cigarette, startled from how sudden the knock was. just as he leaned over to unlock the door, he paused, squinting his eyes at you. he raises a brow, then unlocks the door for you.

as you’re slipping into the car seat, he tosses his cigarette out the window, his gaze practically glued onto you— more specifically, onto your glasses.

“those are new.” he rubs his finger along the plastic, chuckling.

you lightly swat his hand away. “no, they aren’t,” you sigh, slipping your glasses off to wipe the frames. “i’ve just never worn them around you.”

“so they’re new, ‘cause i’ve never seem ‘em before.”

you shake your head. “they’re not new, dal. i’ve had these for years, now.”

“let me try ‘em on. wanna see how blind you are.” he reaches his hand out, opening up his palm.

you purse your lips, reluctantly handing him the glasses. “don’t break them, okay?”

“‘course not, princess,” he slips your glasses on, pushing them up by the bridge in a mocking manner. “do i look all nerdy like you, now?”

“hey, you calling me a nerd?!” you pout, snatching your glasses back and slipping them on.

he shrugs. “maybe. but i gotta admit, ya look real cute with those on.” ‘i don’t wanna talk about anything, i wanna kiss, kiss your eyes again, wanna witness your eyes lookin’ .ᐟ ₊˚⊹♡

-

[not-neverland06]

How About a Nuke?

Part VIII / Part IX

(Completed) Series Masterlist

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: PLEASE READ, we have reached the end of their journey and I am so sad/happy/excited about it. I don’t even know how to feel honestly. I just want to thank everyone who has commented, messaged or reblogged this story. Your kind words and funny little depressed memes have been really uplifting for me. I was actually considering just giving up on this blog when I posted the first chapter. I haven’t had much inspiration lately or interaction I feel like, and you all have helped reignite that spark within me. Summary: There’s something keeping you tied to Cooper Howard, an invisible string wrapped around you both. You’ve fought against it as long as you could but he’s not gonna let you fight for much longer.

It’s been a month and the bounty on her head gets bigger everyday. Normally the compound hires privately, they don’t like going through the agencies. He figures with Sylvie dead they’re struggling to find a new leader and they’re falling apart. Or they’re just desperate for her head on a stick. 

He sees her face everywhere, crudely drawn images of her varying in their accuracy. In some she has a hat like his on, in others her nose is the wrong shape, or her eyes are all wrong. No one seems to have a good grasp on who she is. Out of curiosity and a strange need to know she’s still alive, he’s asked around. 

There are different rumors as to where she’s hiding out. Some think she’s taken to hiding out in the caves near Filly. Anyone with half a brain knows that the area’s overrun by irradiated bears and other mutated freaks. 

There are those that say they’ve seen her wandering through the sands. Following that lead had led him nowhere. He doesn’t know where she is and it’s driving him insane. She’s like a constant itch in the back of his mind that he just can’t scratch. Days and nights are spent thinking about her and he hates it. 

He’s not sure what he’d do when he does find her. Whether he’d shoot her to repay the favor or just tie her up to keep her from leaving again. He’s conflicted on how he feels about her. He’s bothered that he feels anything towards her at all. And he knows that when she shot him, she was shooting to kill. 

She had no way of knowing that he would heal from that bullet. She’d watched him bleed out on the ground and left him for dead. He was impressed, as much as he wanted to be mad, he was almost proud in a way. 

Throughout their tumultuous lives and times together she’d always had to be guided by him. He’d shown her the ways of whatever world they were living in. She’d relied on him and he enjoyed it. The time had to come when eventually she wouldn’t need him anymore. 

It’s outside of Filly that he finds the most accurate poster of her so far. She looks like she did in their first movie together. A proper outlaw, wanted all across the Wastelands for her crimes against a bunch of sick fucks. If he could kill Sylvie again, he would. He’d kill all of them. 

Not that he’s condemning them because of what the compound’s doing. He’s dabbled in organ trade before, eaten people, he’s done a lot of fucked up shit. But he draws the line at trying to hurt her. He’s the only one who should be allowed to fuck with her.

He takes the poster down and whistles softly at the price under her name. It’s enough to keep him happy for a longtime. If he never wanted to take on another bounty he wouldn’t have to. Course, he was never in this for the money. A man’s gotta have something to entertain himself with at the end of the world. 

He wonders if she’s even still alive. Maybe a Deathclaw got her a day after she left him behind. He could have walked past her corpse and never even known it. He folds the poster up and slips it in his bag. He doesn’t know why he bothers keeping it. Possibly because it’s the closest thing to her that he’s got, but he doesn’t feel like lingering on that thought for long. 

He tugs his hat lower on his head and heads through the tunnel leading to Filly. He’s caused a lot of issues here over the years. Usually he kills most of the people who could identify him as an instigator, but he doesn’t feel like pushing his luck today. He needs more supplies and he knows Ma June won’t sell to him if he causes a fight beforehand. 

It’s louder than normal today, more people rushing around. They’re all congregating around something in the center of the marketplace. He turns to the left, heading up the stairs to try and get a better look at what’s got everyone so excited. 

“They found her!” A boy shouts, fidgeting in his spot next to him. He glances at him from under his hat and the boy pales before scurrying away from him. His lips turn up in a cruel grin and he finally gets a good look at what’s happening. 

She’s kneeling in the middle of the marketplace, two Knights on either side of her. He’s more surprised by the fact that she actually has picked up a hat in her time away from him. 

She seems to be playing into the outlaw routine more than he thought she would. 

You’re embarrassed, honestly, that you let these two idiots capture you. Them and their useless little squires. 

You’ve found odd jobs through the Brotherhood when they need assistance looking for relics of the old world. Though, you’re really not sure how much use a toaster oven can be to them, but they pay good money for it. 

Once your bounty was posted and they figured out who you were, though, that stopped being useful. You can’t even hunt bounties because the agencies would just grab you and turn you over to the compound.

They clearly didn’t give a shit about women, you don’t get why they’re making this whole Sylvie situation such a big deal. 

You had to bribe Ma June by buying some of her junk, but eventually she’d helped you find some work in Filly. The people here are stupid enough that they don’t recognize you when they see you. Most of them are high or drunk so the only thing you have to worry about is wandering hands and not stepping in the middle of their brawls. 

From the patrons of the bar you hear stories about yourself. How you slaughtered the entire compound, even the children, which is so far from the truth you can’t help but scoff. Or how you apparently slept with a ghoul and you're carrying his mutant baby. 

You don’t even know where they got that one from. 

They also seem to think you wander through the sands, shooting anyone who gets in your way. It’s a comfort that no one seems to have caught onto you yet. But it’s also disheartening to know that all that’s left of civilization is a bunch of psychopathic idiots. 

What happened to natural selection?

You know your stint in Filly is up when two Knights walk in, their squires struggling to carry their bags behind them. You pull your hat further over your head and duck behind the bar. You try to keep your back to them and let the old man, Marley, who runs the bar deal with them. 

His shaky voice is cautious as he greets them, “What are Knights doing so far out here?”

One of their distorted voices rings out through the, now quiet, bar. “We got bored. Wanted to shoot some shit.”

You roll your eyes and focus on cleaning the cup in front of you. You spit into it, not enough water to properly clean it, and scrub at it with a stained towel. Marley hums, clearly displeased with the answer. You can hear his tottering steps approaching you and wince, praying he’s not going to do what you think he is. 

He tugs on your shirt with a shaky hand and you slump forward in defeat. “Deal with these jackasses,” he mutters, taking drinks over to a different table. 

You pour the only alcohol the bar has into two cups and keep your head down as you approach. “Heard that a woman took over for Knight Damien.”

One of them scoffs and shakes his armored head, “What the fuck is this world coming to?” You don’t know how they’re planning on drinking their liquor with the helmets on but you’re not going to ask stupid questions. You drop the cups in front of them, but your hand slips and one of them tips over into a Knight’s lap. 

“I’ve got it, sire.” Their squire lunges forward and begins vigorously scrubbing their armor. Your face curls up in distaste and you’re about to walk away when a metal hand grips your wrist. 

“Holy shit, it’s her!” Oh, you’re so screwed. 

They’ve got a fucking leash on you, it’s humiliating. The scarred and dirt-covered faces of the citizens of Filly surround you. They’re all leering, shouting at you and begging the Knight’s to share in the bounty. But the Knight’s aren’t listening, they’re just congratulating each other. 

“What do you think they’ll give us?”

One of them shoves their squire and he goes toppling into his large bag, feet flailing in the air. “Hopefully better fucking squires. I’m getting sick of this one’s stupid face.” 

The squire kneels down and shouts in a shaking voice, “I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you, sire!” God, you really hate these people. You wished they would just shoot you. Having to sit here and listen to them talk was making your brain go numb. 

The Knight’s distorted laugh rings out through his helmet. The other one glances over at you, “What do you think she did? I’ve never seen the compound this pissed off.”

“I dunno. Hey!” You know he’s talking to you, that they want an answer, you really don’t care to give them one. “What’d you do?” They stare at you for a moment and then he sighs when you don’t respond. He shoves his squire towards you and the kid goes stumbling over his feet. “Make her talk.”

He nods rapidly, head bobbing up and down. “Of course, sire.” Your hands twitch to your side and you give him a wicked grin as he approaches. 

He’s debating going down there and trying to help her when the first shot goes off. He doesn’t even see it happen, he just watches as one of the squires drops to the ground. 

Those who don’t want to get caught in the crossfire are quick to move away from the area, hiding in their shops or shoving past him to get through the tunnel. He heads down the stairs, taking his time and trying to figure out where the shot came from. 

The second squire moves towards her and his head flies back, a hole between his eyes and his brains splattering across the ground. One Knight shoves the other one and points at their dead squire’s, “Did you not take her fucking gun?”

He’s been in those suits. He remembers how it felt, the power you get from being in them. How they make you feel like a big man. He also remembers how fucking slow they could be. She’s on her feet and running for cover before they can even start to grab her. 

She dives behind a stall and tugs a knife out of her boot, sawing at the ropes around her wrists. He can’t reach her before the fighting starts. Someone in the remaining crowd shouts, “Grab her! Get the bounty!” And all hell breaks loose. 

Someone runs at him and he shoots them before they can grab him. Shots start going off, the Knight’s mowing down anyone who tries to swoop in on their bounty. Everyone else is shooting blindly, just trying to get rid of the competition so they can claim her bounty as their own. 

He ducks under the hail fire and slides next to her as she’s reloading her gun. She glances over at him and frowns, “Didn’t I kill you?”

He hears a shout and watches as some half-feral woman charges at them. She shoots her dead and turns back to him. He gives her a wry smile, “You want to do this now, sweetheart?”

She peers over her cover and surveys the chaos going on around them. She sighs and glances back at him, “Why aren’t you dead?” 

He tugs one of his specially made bullets out of his bag and loads it into his gun. He lifts himself to his knees and aims at the weak spot on the Knight’s chest plate. They both watch as blood explodes out of the neck of the power armor, the Knight’s friend cussing as he watches him die. 

“Next time,” she turns to look at him, “aim for the head,” he instructs. She glares at him before making her way to Ma June’s shop. He follows, not willing to let her out of his sight again, and she ducks behind the barrels of supplies in front of the shop. 

“Clearly,” she winces as the Knight’s gun starts firing off again, “I’m not making it out of here on my own.” They dive to the side as bullets rip through the barrels they’re leaning against. They’re not gonna have cover for much longer.

He grins at her, “Sounds like you’re asking me for a favor, darling.”

The sounds of screams and bodies dropping is nearly deafening. A few feet away a bullet catches a man in the throat and he drops to the ground. They watch as he chokes on his blood and tries to claw his way to safety. Steps rapidly approach them and she turns to shoot a different man, his body dropping an inch away from them. 

He turns back to her and his lips turn down, “After you tried to kill me? You want my help,” he laughs at her and she glares. 

Before she can speak a voice rings out above them, “I got her!” He shoots at the woman on the upper level above them, half of her leg gets blown off and she tumbles over the railing, narrowly missing the pair. 

He turns back to her, “You’re asking a lot, darling.”

“You’ve fucking shot me, twice. I’m not asking you for anything.” Her lips turn down in a sneer and she looks at him like the very sight of him disgusts her. “I don't need your help. I don't need you.” She glances back over her shoulder, surveying the gore and the bullets flying around them. She checks her gun and he sees just how little ammo she has left. “I’ll handle this myself.” She snaps the chamber of her gun closed and moves to get up. He grabs her wrist and yanks her back down, ignoring the angry expression on her face. 

“Look, you might not want my help, but you need it, sweetheart. Just stay here.” 

You watch as Cooper runs off, his guns firing before he’s even fully standing. You only wait a second before you’re running into Ma June’s and out her back door. She shouts at you as you barrel through her shop, knocking over her displays and shelves, but you can’t waste any time getting the hell out of dodge. 

You’re surprised Cooper was stupid enough to think you would actually wait for him. The Knight’s had called for an air evac out of Filly and if you stay there any longer you’ll be back in the compound before you can blink. 

You’ve spent a month evading them, you’re not about to let yourself get caught because of Cooper. 

You can’t believe he’s not dead. It’s not like you’ve been losing sleep over killing him, but it’s been hard to cope with the fact that you killed the man that was once the love of your life. Seeing him again, though, you wished you had shot him in his smug face. 

You’d forgotten, in the time apart, just how condescending he could be. He seemed to think you needed him to survive. You didn’t. 

At best, he provided the comfort of company. Poorly. 

Despite how much he undervalued you, you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. You didn’t need him to save you. You would have figured your way out of there on your own, eventually. You’ve handled yourself a month in the Wastelands without him. You learned how to carve an existence for yourself out here and you did it without help. 

You race into the woods beyond Filly, putting as much distance between you and the sounds of fighting as quickly as you can. The trees around you begin to shake, the ground vibrating and a swirl of dirt and leaves rises into the air and whips you in the face. 

You look up and begin pushing yourself faster. One of the Brotherhood’s Vertibird’s is circling Filly. “This is not a hostile landing! Please remain calm!” You blame your distraction on the announcement. 

You would have heard him coming up behind you if you hadn’t been listening to whatever the Brotherhood was saying. Rope loops around your arms and you’re yanked backwards. Your head thumps painfully hard against the forest floor, rocks scraping you as you’re dragged across the ground. 

Cooper’s face appears over yours, a cruel smile on his lips. “Now, this seems awfully familiar.” He walks around you, boots straddling your waist and grabs you by the front of your shirt, yanking you back to your feet. “I thought I told you to stay put, sweetheart.”

You frown at him, shoving your leg up between his. He groans, doubling over while you shimmy out of the loose rope. “Honestly, after all the shit that’s happened you think I’m gonna listen to anything you say?” You step back from him, brushing the dirt off your clothes as best you can. 

You sigh in frustration when you realize that when the Knight’s had grabbed you, you’d lost your supplies. Cooper looks up at you and scoffs, “Missing something?” You eye his bag on the ground and start to go for it. He pulls the hammer of his gun back and you glance towards him. You’d forgotten what a quick draw he could be.

He’s fully recovered now, eyes narrowed in on you and gun pointed right at your chest. “See, a bullet to the chest might not kill me, but I reckon it’ll do a hell of a lot of damage to you. Why don’t you back up for me, sweetheart?”

You let go of his bag and slowly back away from him. He keeps his gun trained on you and stoops down, throwing his bag back over his shoulder. Your eyes dart to the hat on his head and your lips curl up when you spot the hole you’d put in it. 

Two hundred years and he’s kept that hat nearly pristine, you take no small amount of pride in being the one to ruin it. 

“The Brotherhood will be swarming these woods in a few minutes. They’re not gonna be too happy about one of their Knight’s being dead. Come with me, I can help you out.”

You scoff, “Like I’ll ever trust you again. You’ve shot me, sold me, and left me for dead, Cooper.”

He huffs, eyes narrowing and lips curled in a sardonic grin. You can tell he’s getting pissed off. “The choice is yours,” he tucks his gun back in his holster and turns on his heels. You watch in surprise as he stalks away from you. You had fully expected him to put up more of a fight, it almost hurts that he left so easily again. 

Then you hear the sounds of orders being shouted behind you. Metal creaking and stomping through the underbrush and you realize he hadn’t left but forced you between a rock and a hard place. You could follow him or let yourself get captured by the Brotherhood. 

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You risk a glance over your shoulder and spot a rapidly approaching party of squires. You run in the direction Cooper went and find him leaning casually against a tree, a satisfied look on his face when he spots you. “Don’t say a word,” you warn, shoving past him. 

He glances at her from across the fire and finds himself feeling almost at ease for the first time in a month. It’s been a while since he’s looked up to actually find her staring back at him. She might look like she wants to kill him, but she’s here. 

“You have to admit, we make a pretty good team, darling.”

She gives him an unimpressed look, “Yeah, Cooper, we’re so great at murdering people.” She looks over to the dead bodies of the raiders they’d stolen this camp from and shakes her head. “I forgot how much death you surround yourself with.”

“I surround myself with? Might I remind you, you fired the first shot, sweetheart.” Granted, he had shoved her out of her hiding spot and given her no choice about it. 

Her head shoots up and she glares at him, “You made me!” She opens her mouth and he grins. He enjoys provoking her like this. Even if the last time he had she’d shot him because of it, but it’s fun to rile her up. She always gets so pissed off, it entertains him to no end. 

To his disappointment, she closes her mouth and shakes her head, choosing not to engage with him. He sighs and rips off a piece of jerky. “When did you turn into such a wet fucking blanket?”

Her eyes flare with anger, despite that, he can hear how hurt she really is. “Maybe when you sold me!”

He tilts his head and runs his tongue over his teeth, “You ever gonna let that go? I told you it was a mistake. How was I supposed to know they were gonna breed you like a prize pig?”

She scoffs, the noise high pitched and shocked. She shakes her head and stares at him with wide eyes, “You are unbelievable.” He shrugs and takes a swig from the flask he’d stolen off one of the raiders. He’s not sure how they make their alcohol, or if they trade for it, but it’s fucking disgusting. He frowns at the flask and drains the rest of it before tossing it into the woods behind him. 

She sighs and runs a hand over her face, her voice tired as she asks, “What’s the plan here, Cooper?” 

He picks at his teeth and shakes his head, “With what?”

She leans against the log behind her and gestures at herself. “With me. What, are you going to wait for me to pass out so you can tie me up and send me back to the compound? I’ve seen the price on my head. I know how valuable I am to everyone in the Wastelands.”

He doesn’t know why what she’s saying bothers him so much but it does. “You really think I’d send you back there?”

Her face is devoid of anything as she responds, “Why wouldn’t you?”

It’s the bluntness with which she asks that, that bugs him. Like there’s no other possibility but him betraying her. Taking advantage of her while she was vulnerable and weak and then handing her over to the people who want her dead. He wouldn’t do that to her. 

He didn’t go through all this fucking trouble to find her just to lose her again. He wants to tell her as much but she’s on her feet and grabbing her bag before he can. “Look, I appreciate the help today, but I’m not interested in starting this partnership back up again. I think it’s better if we just part ways.”

He whips his gun out before he can think about what he’s doing. She freezes, still bent over and eyes his gun warily. “I’m afraid that’s not an option, darling.” He can’t let her leave again. And maybe this isn’t the best way to go about it, but he doesn’t know how else to stop her. 

“You gonna shoot me, Cooper?” She whispers, her own hand twitching for the revolver at her side. He stands up and grabs her wrists, ignoring the way she struggles against him. He binds her hands with his rope and he sits back down, 

“I’m not gonna turn you in and I’m not gonna shoot you. But you’re not getting out of here that easy, sweetheart.”

Her eyes narrow in on his, her fists clenched tightly in anger. “I killed two men with my hands bound today. What’s stopping me from killing you?”

He shrugs, “Nothing. There’s nothing stopping you, just like there’s nothing stopping me. But I’m not killing you, am I? See,” he leans forward, “I’ve fought too hard and spent too much time looking after you to just let you go now. We’re in this together, whether you want it or not.”

Her lips split in a sneer and she throws herself down on the log. “You’re all the fucking same. You treat me like a goddamn dog that needs to be beat into submission. I’m not some misbehaving pet, Cooper!” Her eyes well up and her voice breaks, “You don’t get to just leash me and expect me to be okay with it.”

“I’m under no illusions that you’re happy here, sweetheart.” He runs a hand down his face and she shakes her head in disbelief. 

“Then just let me go,” she’s bordering on begging now and his chest squeezes the longer she stares at him with those pleading eyes of hers. It’s not something he’s familiar with, this feeling, this longing for her to just shut the fuck up and stop making this so damn difficult for him. 

“I can’t,” he mutters, wanting her to just drop it. 

“Why not?” She snaps, dropping any pretenses of trying to get him to sympathize with her.

He surges forward and grabs her by the jaw. Her eyes widen in shock and he smashes their lips together, teeth clashing painfully. There’s nothing gentle or sweet about this kiss. Her teeth are ripping into his scarred lips until the taste of copper is spreading on his tongue. He groans, digging his fingers into her cheeks until her lips part. 

His tongue probes against hers, the taste of his blood spreading into her mouth as well. She whimpers, the noise stirring something in him he’d forgotten about. There’s an old desire bubbling in him that’s making him blind to the rest of the world. He wants her, more than he ever wants to admit. 

He’s wanted her for a long time before this and they both know it. How hard he’s fought against it, against moments like these. He didn’t think he was still capable of this feeling, this desire for her. But it’s consuming. She’s ruining him, running him in circles until he thinks he’s going insane. 

But it’s not the same gentle passion it once was. It’s as twisted as he’s become. The desire to possess, consume, covet until she’s his and only his to do with what he wants. His teeth dig into her, letting her blood overcome the taste of his own. He groans, his free hand grabbing her waist and yanking her closer. 

She tastes so much sweeter than he does, he wants to rip a chunk of her off and eat her whole. He’s so distracted he doesn't even notice her pulling out her gun until he’s shooting back from her. He lands roughly on the forest floor and groans, hands clutched over the bleeding hole in his gut. Pain radiates through his abdomen and he rolls onto his side.

He looks up at her in shock. She’s spitting their blood onto the ground, her bound hands wiping at her lips. “Asshole,” she mutters. She tucks her gun back in her holster and looks over at him. 

His eyes are wide in disbelief as he struggles to sit back up. The movement causes another wave of pain and he hisses through gritted teeth, “You shot me!”

She rolls her eyes and gives him a blank look, “You’ll live.” He limps back to his own seat and lifts his shirt, watching as the hole closes over slowly and the blood stops leaking. She watches as he heals and sighs, “Unfortunately.” He tugs it back down and sighs at the state of his shirt. 

“My shirt won’t.” He digs a finger into the hole and tugs on it, watching as it rips wider. Two hundred years he’s kept these clothes, she ruins them in a month. Un-fucking-believable. 

“Sew it,” she gripes, still wiping at her mouth. “I can’t believe you just fucking kissed me,” she frowns and spits again, bits of crimson lingering on her lips. 

He sighs and leans back against the tree. “Felt right in the moment.” It did, he wants to do it again. They’re even now, they’ve both shot each other twice. No reason for her to shoot again. 

He wants to feel the way she shivers against him and moans into his mouth. She can be pissed all she wants but she kissed back, she can’t deny that. He’s sure if she wasn’t tied up she’d be a bit more receptive to him. Or maybe she just needs time to cool off after the whole compound incident, a month seems like a reasonable amount of time. Then again, women are so damn unreasonable. 

She tugs a knife out of her boot and positions it between her knees. She places it between her wrists and saws at the rope until it falls free. She slides the knife back in her boot and tosses the ruined rope at him. 

He catches it with a sigh and glances up at her. “Why didn’t you do that earlier?”

Her eyes are alight with a challenge, “I wanted to see if you would let me go yourself.” Well, clearly, he had failed her little test. “I wanted to see if there was even a possibility I could ever trust you again.”

He gives her an unimpressed look, slightly pissed off about his shirt. He never should have taught her how to shoot. If he’d known it would come back to bite him in the ass he wouldn’t have. “And?”

She gives him a disbelieving look and shakes her head. “And instead of letting me go, you kissed me.“ She throws her hands up in astonishment and glares at him. “Why the hell would you think that was a good idea?”

He smirks and revels in the way she shivers at the sight. “Well, darling, I’ve always been better with actions not words.”

“Yeah,” her voice is a challenge, eyes hard and jaw clenched tightly in frustration. He loves the sight of her all riled up. He loves it even more knowing he’s the one getting her like this. “What were you trying to tell me with that little display?”

He doesn’t answer her question, not wanting to just yet. “You liked it, didn’t you?” Her mouth snaps shut and she looks away from him. He laughs, leaning back and giving her a smug look. “You can be pissed off at me as much as you want, sweetheart,” the nickname rolls off his tongue like a taunt and she sneers at him. “But you want me just the same as you used to.”

“Do you like hurting me? Is that why you keep me around? You’ve been alone for two hundred years, Cooper. And for the majority of them you’ve harbored this hatred for me because you thought I had abandoned you just like everyone else.” 

Her words strike a place deep inside him that has him on edge. She knows what she’s doing. He’s forgotten, in his time with her, that in the same way he can get under her skin, she can do it too. She knows him just as well, she’s just always been the better half of their duo. She never feels the need to stoop to the level he does. But she’s doing it now and it feels like a kick in the teeth. 

“And I’m the only one that’s actually stuck by you.” She laughs, but there’s an underlying pain to it. She looks away from him and wipes at her cheeks and his fists clench within his gloves. “Is this your revenge? You think by torturing me you get back at everyone whose ever fucked you over. I’m sick of it, Cooper. I’m not gonna let you use me anymore.”

“I feel for you,” he forces the words out. He doesn’t want to tell her this. He shouldn’t have to tell her this. She should just stick with him, it’s what they’d always done, it’s how it always should be. Them, together. But she’s fighting against that, against him, so much that he doesn’t have a choice. 

She’s backed him into a corner he doesn’t know how to get out of. “In a way I haven’t in a very long time. I can’t let you go. Don’t you get that, sweetheart? We’re in this together.”

She shakes her head and he sighs. “No,” she looks at him and just shakes her head again. “No, you don’t love me, Cooper, or you don’t want me at least. I’m not the same girl I was, that’s what you’re after. That idea in your head, of us together, that’s who I was. You were right, the Wastelands changes you. I can’t be her for you and I don’t want to be.”

He chuckles and she shrinks away from the sound in suspicion. “Newsflash, darling, I’m not the same man. I loved you a long time ago, sweetheart, but I’m not capable of that anymore. Not for the girl you were, anyway.”

She nodded, her arms wrapped around herself. She looked like she accepted the answer, but he could see beyond that, could see that she thought he was rejecting her. It hurt, she could hate him as much as she wanted, but that still hurt her. “Good,” she muttered, “she’s gone.”

“Well, good.” She shrank further into herself and he grinned.  “You. You as you are now. That’s what I want. I don’t give a shit about who we were, the only person I’ve wanted since I’ve been out here has been you. You’re the only person I’ve met who can actually keep up with me. I don’t give a shit if anyone in this godforsaken Wasteland lives or dies, but I give a shit about you. You’re also the only one who can knock me on my ass.”

Her eyes darted to the hole in his shirt and a small grin came over her lips. “Haven’t been shot a lot, have you, cowboy?”

“No,” he chuckles again and grins at her, “I haven’t. Though, I am still pretty pissed about the hole in my hat.”

Her tone loses a bit of her playfulness and she glares at him, “You more than earned that.”

He acquiesces and holds up his hands in surrender, “Maybe.” She scoffs at that and rolls her eyes. “But I think we’re even now.”

“Barely,” she mutters, rubbing at the bruises on her wrists. She glances up at him and sighs, a surrender in her eyes. “But, it’s close enough now.”

He stands up and she eyes him warily as he throws himself down on the log next to her. He holds out a hand, “What do you say, darling, partners?”

She sighs and stares at his hand for a long time. He doesn’t mind, he leaves it there, hovering between them. He knows she’ll take it. “Deny it as much as you want but this is how it’s meant to be. You can keep fighting it or save us both some time.”

She reaches forward and tentatively wraps a hand around his, she uses it to yank him forward, their faces separated by an inch. “Shoot me again,” she whispers, “and I won’t miss the next time I knock you on your ass.”

“Oh shit,” you jump at the kickback on the rifle and nearly drop it to the ground. Cooper laughs and reaches around you, taking it from you. 

“Maybe I should have started you off with something with a little less kick to it.” He props the rifle against the tree and glances over to the cans you’d been shooting at. Well, you’d gotten one out of five at least. 

In all fairness this was the first time you’d ever handled a gun, you’re sure you’re doing fine for a beginner. He sucks on his teeth and looks at your targets. The serious look on his face cracks and he’s clearly trying to fight off laughing. 

You shove at his shoulder, smiling, “Shut up. I’ve never used one of these things before.”

He picks the rifle back up and starts laughing now, “You mean a gun?” 

You throw your arms in the air in defeat and slump into the patio chairs he’s dragged to the back of the cabin. “This is pointless, anyway.” He cocks the rifle and lifts it up to aim properly. In quick succession he knocks the remaining four cans off the fence. You roll your eyes at him, “Show off.”

He smiles and takes a seat next to you. You remain silent for a while, gazing across the yard and to the towering mountains across from his cabin. You appreciate him inviting you here. When you’d told him how overwhelmed you’d been feeling with all the new publicity you hadn’t expected him to drag you all the way out to his mountain home. 

You wouldn’t have accepted if you’d known it was just going to be you and him. You’d thought he was bringing his wife and kid, too. Spending a long weekend playing house with Cooper wasn’t going to do anything in getting rid of your crush. It was just getting worse the longer you were around him.

Waking up everyday and having him be the first person to greet you was going to send you into an early grave. You swear your heart’s never beat this fast around anyone else. He seems to be the only man who's ever had you feeling this head over heels. 

“I think it’s important you learn.”

You glance over at him, surprised at how serious he sounds. He’s still staring out at the mountains, but his gaze is distant. His mind is some place else. “Why?” You ask, voice quiet, afraid to spoil the moment.

He finally blinks, gaze darting down to his hands and the rifle still in them. “It’s easy for people to dismiss the war nowadays. They weren’t there, they didn’t watch as hundreds of good men and women died for them.” You frown, sometimes it’s easy to forget that he’d been fighting on the frontlines. He’s so good at being a socialite, you feel guilty that even you sometimes forget he was a soldier before he was Cooper Howard. 

His voice is heavy, the tension thick around the both of you. “They seem to think the war is over. I know it’s not, it’s just going to get worse. People can bury their heads in the sand as long as they want, but when the fighting is at their front door, what are they going to do?”

You reach out, hand covering his own. He finally looks up at you and you smile. “I appreciate it, Cooper.”

His eyes quickly look at your hand before looking back at you. “For what?”

You shrug, moving closer to him and lacing your fingers with his. You shouldn’t indulge yourself like this, but you can’t help it. He seems so sad and you only want to make him feel better. You just want to take care of him, the way he takes care of you. 

“For always looking out for me. You’re always there, I appreciate it. I appreciate you.”

The sad cast over his face finally breaks and he smiles at you. His hand squeezes yours once, then again and he looks back out at the mountains without saying anything else. You don’t think he needs to, that either of you needs to. Sometimes you understand each other better without words. 

You’ll always be there for one another.

You eye him warily and he holds the jerky out further. “Aren’t you a little curious?” He taunts, waving the jerky around in front of your face. You know he thinks you won’t take it. That he’s just screwing with you. He’s been doing this ever since you agreed to tag along with him. Teasing you at every given opportunity. 

You snatch it from his hands and rip a piece of it off. It kind of tastes like beef, if not a little sweeter. There’s also that metallic radiated tang to it. You chew it slowly, savoring the slightly caught off guard look on his face. You swallow it down, forcing your face to stay straight and not give away how disgusted you feel right now. 

He chuckles, leaning back and looking at you with something that seems like appreciation. “I hope you know that was ass jerky.”

You gag now, glaring at him and tossing the rest of the jerky at his smug face. “You’re such a dick.” You take a swig from your canteen and swirl the water around your mouth. It gets rid of the taste well enough but you’re never going to get over the fact that you swallowed a part of someone’s ass. 

He suddenly gets serious, swatting at your arm and motioning to the front of the store. You crouch beside him, watching as a raider walks out of the front doors. You don’t get why they chose an old movie store for their hideout, but Cooper had it on good authority that they had a decent cache of supplies inside. 

The last time you’d followed him into one of these things, you’d nearly died, and then he’d sold you. You’re still not fully trusting of him. The only reason you’re with him now is because you need extra security from bounty hunters after getting booted out of Filly. 

If he wasn’t such a good shot, you would have never given him a second glance. Despite how much he insists the compound was an honest mistake, you find the trust slow to come. You’ll let him take the lead on this one, you’re not confident in him having your back if things take a turn. 

He moves forward and you hang back, keeping watch while he slits the guard’s throat. He lowers the body quietly to the ground and you creep behind him, following him through the doors of the store. 

This group is smaller than the last one you dealt with. Only five of them with no extra guards outside. Cooper ducks behind a dust covered shelf before they can spot either of you. You go to the other side of the store, moving slowly along the edge until you have a good shot. 

You take out one man and Cooper manages to hit two more before they start firing off their own guns. You dart back behind the shelf, willing to let Cooper handle the last two. But one of them dives behind the shelf and grabs at you. 

Another shot goes off and his friend’s body hits the ground while he rounds the corner with you. He’s got an arm wrapped around your throat and the barrel of his gun pushing so hard into your skull you can feel an indent forming. 

It wouldn’t be hard to shoot this guy, you still have your gun in your hand. Cooper seems to realize that, too, from the questioning look he gives you. You drop your gun to the floor, you want to see what he’ll do. 

Maybe you’re stupid, gambling with your life like this. But you don’t feel any fear, not from the guy holding you hostage at least. You just keep your eyes locked on Cooper’s. They’re so familiar to you, yet so distant. Like a stranger you’ve known all your life. 

He slowly rises from the floor, hands raised in the air in surrender. “Alright, let’s just see if we can’t talk this out like gentlemen.”

The guy holding you jerks you roughly, gun banging painfully against your temple. You wince but remain quiet. “Stay back or I’ll blow her goddamn brains out!”

Cooper’s eyes dart from your face to the guy. He huffs, frowning and pursing his lips like he’s trying to think of a way to talk himself out of this. He could leave, he’s got enough time to make it through the door before he fires at him. 

Or he could help you. 

It’s the only reason you let yourself get caught. If he wants your trust he’s going to have to prove it. Cooper looks at you and a grin splits across his face. It’s like he’s read your mind, from the knowing look on his face you think he might’ve. 

Then again, you never really needed words to talk to each other. 

With a speed that never fails to catch you off guard his hand darts under his jacket and he draws his gun. He’s shooting the man before you even get a chance to brace yourself. Your body gets dragged back slightly by the dead weight but Cooper moves forward and wraps a hand around your shirt, tugging you into him. 

Your hands shoot out, bracing yourself against his chest. He peers at you from under his hat and grins, “You didn’t really think I was gonna let you go that easy did you, darling?” Your eyes dart down to his lips, you feel like you can still taste him. 

The timing of his kiss might not have been appropriate, but he certainly hadn’t made it forgettable. Nothing about him was forgettable. As much as you wished he could be. You hated yourself for still letting yourself fall into his trap. 

Hollywood might have once labeled you as the most seductive actress of your generation, but Cooper had you beat. He kept you coming back even when you knew you shouldn’t. He had you wrapped around him and all you wanted to do was squeeze until he let you go. 

You push off of him, ignoring how much you want to pull him closer. You move towards their pile of supplies, “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

There are a few different posters set up in the old movie store that intrigue him. But the one that’s caught his attention the most is set up directly behind her. Her back is to it, so she hasn’t gotten a chance to see it yet, but it’s all he can focus on. 

The Outlaw and The Sheriff

Their first movie together. 

He looks at her and huffs out a laugh, she glances up at him for a moment before she begins rifling through her bag again. She looks like she walked right off the fucking poster, hat and all. She’s the spitting image of herself, but she seems so different. 

Maybe it’s the eyes. The light there has changed, dimmed slightly from how it used to be. She used to seem so naive to the world, like a little lamb that just needed some guidance. Now, he wonders just how much of the world she’d seen before he found her. If maybe she had never been as innocent to it’s cruelties as he’d once assumed. 

She stepped into this new role of hers just as quickly as he had. You didn’t just change that quickly without knowing already just how awful people could be. 

“Sweetheart,” she looks up and he points behind her. She turns around and looks up to the poster.

She scoffs, moving to stand beside him, “I always hated how I looked in that.”

He glances over at her and shakes his head, “Probably shouldn’t show you a mirror anytime soon, then.” Her hands reach up to fiddle with the brim of her hat and she smiles, a real smile for once. 

“No, I suppose not.” Her hands trace over her lips, he glances back at the poster. At that old signature of hers. She always had to have those red lips. “It’s so different,” she whispers and he knows she didn’t mean for him to hear. Her eyes glisten and he frowns. 

He shouldn’t have shown her. It’s not like he enjoyed seeing those fucking Vault-Boy posters, he sure as hell hated seeing clips of himself. Why would she enjoy seeing who she used to be? Who they used to be?

Things used to be so simple. He loved her, she loved him. Now he’d fucked up so much he wasn’t sure she could ever look at him the way she used to. He didn’t want who she was before, he couldn’t handle that. This new her, well, he didn’t give her near enough credit. 

But he wouldn’t hate seeing someone look at him like that again. Endless adoration and unflinching loyalty. He knew he would follow her anywhere, he’d realized that a while ago. He didn’t have anything in the Wastelands, nothing but hate and spite to keep him going all this time.

Now, he had her. He just needed her to realize that she had him just the same. She had him wrapped around her and he hated it and loved it at the same time. Hated her and loved her for it all the same. 

He tugs his glove off before he reaches for her. He cups her cheek, thumb tracing over her lips before she turns towards him. His eyes meet hers and he smiles slightly at the familiarity and mystery to them. So much of her he recognizes and then there are these new parts he’s yet to discover. 

He wants to discover all of her. Learn everything he can about her all over again, feed his desire to consume her entirely. 

She pulls him in this time, her lips chapped and cracked. Her arms wind around his neck, yanking him closer and he tugs at her. She tastes as sweet as he remembers and it only makes him crave more. More of her, more of anything she’ll let him have. 

She pulls back from him, pressing her hand against his chest, slowly backing him against the wall. He lets her ease him to the floor and she throws a leg over his lap. She settles herself above him, both her hands tightly grasping his neck, crushing their bodies together, eyes gazing intently into his own. He doesn’t know what she’s looking for in him but she seems to find it when she leans in once more. 

She isn’t giving him a chance at control, she’s got a leash on him, pulling back anytime he tries to lead. He relents, following her as she slowly explores him. 

He’s not sure how long this peace between them will last before one of them inevitably fucks up. But they’re stuck together now. It doesn’t matter what happens, he’s not letting her get away from him again. 

She’s his, always has been, always will be. It’s been that way since before the fallout. He’s led her, guided her.

He had loved her as a different man. History always seems to repeat itself with them. As twisted as the world is, as twisted as they’ve become, they always seem to drift back together. No matter how much the both of them fight against it. 

He’s giving in now, giving into her. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - We In A Slump, but help might be coming from a very strange source

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Sept 2024 Week 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Jack & Joker (Thai Mon IQIYI) ep 3 of 12 - I don’t have a lot to say except that the plot is somewhat predictable but the show is still very engaging. War is fantastic. I’m enjoying it a hell of a lot.

Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) ep 10 of 12 - The second leads are getting better in this one. I understand where they are coming from, which makes their conflict so much more understandably painful, and honest to a friends2lovers trope. The main couple is kinda standard college relationship drama, but they are cuties.  

Kidnap (Fri YT) ep 4 of 12 - How is Ohm so damn gorgeous? Meanwhile, babies’ first argument. And it’s sponge bath time. Q has got to be wondering if Min is as meticulous with all kinds of care and attention to detail all......the......time. Somebody here in the hellhole said something about this being "the most BL to ever BL." And I think they’re right. At least right now. Although, watch out, we got us a new contender from the east.

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 11 of 12 - I do love the continuation of the perversion, in a good way, of the punishment trope from last week's episode. Oh, has the show finally remembered its title? NO SINGING. 

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 7 of 10 - More kidnapping and an attack and now there’s a girl involved and somebody’s going to China and I don’t understand anything! And I don’t really care. Is this how the actual book originally went? Because it’s wild. Also TOO MANY of flashbacks. I guess they got a bit of a boyfriend era, and the claiming during the water fight was cute, but otherwise...... meh

Love Sick 2024 (Thai Sun iQIYI) ep 2 of 15 - One shouldn’t make comparisons, of course, but all I can think about is how amazing Captain was as Noh in the original series. Thus this show is mostly just making me want to rewatch the original. It’d be an interesting twist to have Aim be queer instead of a damaged cool girl slut. Was the helmet hand letting go a foreshadow of the iconic bookstore hands letting go? Also, I gotta say for the second episode of a series there are already too many flashbacks. Why are they using filler when they have so much content crammed into so few (comparable) episodes for a series? It’s annoying. Stop it.

Live in Love (Sun Gaga) ep 4 of 5 - This show has some interesting, if heavy handed, things to say about shipping and trolling, but also predatory/proprietary female behavior. It’s fascinating to see it tackled head on, if handled in a profoundly clumsy manner. I’m not sure how I feel about it. That said, most of this episode was actually an advertisement for a resort in Phuket. 

Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) ep 2 of 10 - I'm getting What's Wrong with Secretary Kim? vibes from this show. Only this is WAY more bullying. It’s very old-fashioned 90’s billionaire romance novel only gay. It’s never a good sign when I’m watching two boys kiss and I really want one of them to just bite the other ones lip off instead.

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 9 of 12 - No ep this week. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun grey) ep 8 of 10 - Gosh it’s so frikin adorable. Baby got sick. He has SUCH A CRUSH. And such a courageous little confession! Yay! Can’t wait for next week. 

Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YouTube) ep 1 - sure, yes this is, in fact, just Ba Vinh doing his thing with pretty boys again. And yet...... There is a REASON this leapt into the standings guns blazing. So it’s high school set but it's stepbrothers trope. (My, aren’t we popular this year?) I know, but I NEVER get tired of this trope. We got us Bach (BV's sullen tsundere) and Dat (babygirl meets bully). It’s GREAT how the brothers' dynamic is entirely different at school than when they're at home. My ear isn’t trained for Vietnamese, but I think Dat is using different pronouns depending on his location (his personality entirely shifts when he’s at school). I’m not sold on the Bach character, although I always trust BV to serve in the end (at least we know the kisses will be good), but Dat is utterly in love, a touch spicy, and reasonably complex. The surrounding cast is good too, my favorite pretty boy is there playing top dog (woof), and one of the besties is out gay (YAY!). The plot of the show is...... well...... absent. Nothing happened. But if we are aiming for Love Sick slice of life style BL, I'm game. Subs are appropriately terrible and confusing. But I like it A FUCK TON so far, so I’m gonna keep it in rotation. Nice to have Vietnam back in play. What a shocker.

2024 has been a year of upsets.

Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 3 of 10 eps - I weirdly enjoyed the farcical music and the utter absurdity of the court case. I also liked how it highlighted what a good team these two are. Frankly I don’t mind a bit of an antihero sleazy lawyer + conman, it's engaging. I’m getting wholesome out of Thailand. I don’t really need it from Japan at the moment. Also I don’t believe for one second our conman actually is serious about the relationship. Conmen gonna con. I'm reminded of the scorpion and the frog fable.

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) ep 8 of 12 - I love Orca so much. I do not love the autotuned version of Orca, but I knew what I was in for with this particular show, it's in the title after all. I did laugh a whole lot when Laing used kha. Hon, I don't think that word means what you think it means......

The On1y One (Taiwan Thurs Gaga) eps 11-12fin - I never thought I’d say this, but the pacing was off in the penultimate episode. Taiwan, and its chronic misuse of flashbacks strikes again. That said we eventually got a "lock in" trope and Wang being the biggest little flirt shit in the cafe OMG!!! Of course, you shouldn’t use a girl to torment your bf, but it was so well done, I can’t really complain. Meanwhile, teacher kisses. And now I understand exactly why they’re present in this narrative. Clever. Bummer of a burden on that ending though. I cannot see how they’ll manage to stick this landing. [That was ep 11]

AND NOW EP 12 - doomey doomey doom

Not the water bottle trope! Argh the teenage lust of it all. Just stop it. Wang is so smart he knows exactly how bad he has to be to leave the class. And his bf certainly knows that too. And......

......

So that was not an ending and I’m not happy about it and no one is surprised. Even I’m not surprised. I’m just disappointed. Even tho I suspected this was where we were headed I'm disappointed. That’s it. That’s all I got. How do I review something that was such a crushing let down?

Conclusion:

Based on a Mou Mou novel + the Your Name Engraved Herein team, this is old-school coming of age BL and it was bloody fantastic. Tsundere seme to beat all tsundere (smartest + tallest + bestest at everything but people) meets socially-ept cutie smart-ass uke. They're living together by end of ep 1 and start kissing by end of ep 2. A stellar tense slow burn stepbrothers trope that ate my life and than just belly-flopped the finale. What I'm left with is epic levels of disappointment and well...... at least nobody died? My standard "fatally flawed" rating for any BL is 4/10 so I guess that’s what I’m giving it. 

Before you ask me for the stats: Taiwan does not have a history of second seasons. I went ahead and ran the numbers and the odds are certainly not in our favor. I put the chances at 2%.

Yes, I contemplated a revenge rating of 2/10 but even I'm not that mean.

It's airing but...

The Hidden Moon (Sat WeTV) ep 1 of 10 - This is a supernatural romance (my ghost boyfriend trope) by Violet Rain (I Feel You Linger). A man is hired to write an article about an old mansion in Chiang Mai being converted into a café. He sees the ghosts of people who died at the mansion, falls in love with one of them. Was substantially recast. I loved IFYLITA except the ending so I think I'll let this one run it's course you can tell me if it's work tracking down... if they managed to land it. I have my doubts.

In Case You Missed It

Falling For My Boss is vertical format (nash) short from Korean BL about a happy-go-unlucky man who keeps losing his flower shop business because of romantically misbehaving employees (apparently it's a thing). When his best employee brings in a new boy he's worried she's falling for him, but it turns out it's his own heart on the line. He a clueless softy and The Boy is a lost broken sweetheart, making this a gentle little snippet of a show. There's a baby linguistic negotiation, some hung slinging, awkward handholds, and everyone is very pretty. For me the absence of kisses and the vertical format were more annoying than the length, which felt fine but many viewers will find too short. I enjoyed the 30 minutes of cute. All of which makes this a solid 7/10 from me. It was originally only available on this one ap in very short form with ads so I wasn't gonna bother. Then some kind soul cut it together without ads and stuck it up for download. Say thank you.

Oddball recommendation next: This podcast episode touches on some stuff we see in Thai BL so I think it's worth listening to. Journalist Dominic Faulder on the Complex History Between Thailand & Myanmar

Happy of the End (Japan Gaga) - Completed its run. A boy is disowned for being gay, dumped by his boyfriend, and ends up in a dysfunctional co-dependant relationship with his would-be kidnapper. We were due for another messy JBL and it's exactly as expected. I do not like it at all and DNFed. Gossip round the hellhole is that was a solid decision.

Marriage Equality Law has officially been enacted in Thailand...

Yes the actual law. Goes into effect Jan 22, 2025

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Coming Oct 2024:

10/3 Fourever You (Thai iQIYI?) 16 eps - New directs Earth (UWMA, 12%) + Pond (Century of Love, 180 Degrees), Bas (Gen Y, 2 Moons) + Maxky (Why You… Y Me?) and other familiar faces like Bever. Sampler pack university BL from Wabi Sabi that looks like it's trying to be a gay Boys Over Flowers (4 older med students hot boys) and I'm not mad about it. Trailer Not sure who's distributing this but my guess is iQIYI since they had the last few from this house.

10/7 Every You Every Me (Thai Gaga) 10 eps - Jade and Chin have lived over a thousand lifetimes. In each one they somehow manage to fall in love with each other. (This pair, TopMick was piloted in a My Universe ep, that was one of the only ones I liked.)

10/10 Eccentric Romance (Korea ????) 12 eps - Silkwood’s 2nd Thai/Korean colab, that has been in production since 2022 which is a LONG time in the BL world. I'm worried but I like the concept: friends of 10 years who’ve been hiding feelings for each other enter the same university. Plus MURDER.

10/10 Gangster and His Boyfriend (Korea ????) 8 eps? - Kim Dong Bin (famous trainee & idol reality competitor, yeah that happens) stars as a fallen idol who unexpectedly becomes entangled in a gangster family. Discovers that his friend’s father is responsible for the murder of his entire family years ago. I don't know much about this one, neither does anyone else and I'm not sure where I got that release date so……

10/21 Love in the Big City (Korea ????) 8 eps - Adaptation of Booker-nominated famous coming of age novel of the same title by Park Sang-Young. Cynical yet fun loving student writer Young pinballs from home, to class, to Tinder matches. He and Jaehee, his female besie and roommate, frequent nearby bars where they push away their worries about life, love, and money with soju. As time passes Jaehee settles down and leaves Young to face his problems on his own. Young finding comfort in the arms of the series of men, including one whose handsomeness is matched by his coldness and another who might be the great love of his life. Not really BL. Stars Kim Go-eun (The King: Eternal Monarch), Noh Sang-hyun, and Nam Yoon Su (The King’s Affection). This already released as a movie and isn't very well regarded, this date is supposedly an international release as a series. I'm wary of it being BL.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

I got nothing, The On1y One drove me into a funk.

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many at-ings.

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: News from an old friend had you wondering if Eddie's sour mood had turned downright destructive. (4.9k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, misunderstanding, coming out, vandalism, parental conflict, poverty, jealousy, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter seven: offense and defense

Your version of a truce came in the form of wallpaper panels and a bucket of glue. 

You’d placed it on top of the canvas sheets that would protect the floor from any spills, though it wasn’t as if that was presentable, either. Still, you would be grateful for the splash of color rather than the stripped down walls that only highlighted the motel’s defeated aesthetic. 

Like lipstick on a pig, your cynicism taunted, but one that you’ve stuck on a spit to roast. 

Your fingernail picked at a small groove in the desk’s wood as if digging a hole to bury your anxiety. Despite the police sirens blaring in the distance, all you could hear was the sound of the mailbox clanging shut, trapping your acceptance letter and effectively sealing your fate. 

Your breathing sped up and sent your heartbeat into your ears, inching you towards a point of no return where the world became hazy. Suddenly, Eddie’s mood was irrelevant; you just needed a distraction, even if that meant contending with his strangely defensive attitude. 

But when eleven o’clock rolled around, a full hour into your shift. there was still no sign of him. You’d give him another thirty minutes before you knocked on his door; he had a job to finish, after all. 

That was all it was: ensuring he earned his keep, preventing him from becoming the deeply feared charity case.

In the end, there was no need to intrude on him. Eddie shuffled through the lobby not even fifteen minutes later, seemingly without the intention of stopping to greet you. He looked straight ahead as though any eye contact would burn his retinas from the inside out. His tattooed arms were on full display in a black tank top, the holes cut down nearly to the waist. A chain hung off the side of his jeans, gleaming even in the harsh lighting. The whole outfit was a far cry from the sweatpants he’d donned during the wallpaper removal.

“Eddie?”

He stopped but still refused to glance in your direction. There was no use ignoring the confusion in your voice; he didn’t even bother waiting for the formality of a question. “Y-Yeah, I, um…I gotta run some errands.” His teeth dug into the inside of his cheek at his pitiful excuse. 

Errands just before midnight? He certainly wasn’t dressed to make a last-minute dash to the corner bodega, nor would that take all night.

He was lying; that much was obvious. What evaded you was why. Was he embarrassed about his outburst at Eisen’s? Angry at you for freezing him out during the ride home?

“What about the wallpaper?”

“Oh. Right.” He softly chuckled, the kind that someone gives when they’ve been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “Tomorrow, I promise.”

He didn’t stick around for further questioning, letting in a cool evening breeze when he barreled out the front door. 

Aggravation clenched your fists. His lackadaisical approach to work was infuriating enough, but the way he’d attempted to sneak past you had you seething. Did he truly believe he could camouflage himself and walk out unnoticed?

The untouched wallpapering materials mocked you, taunted your optimism. Or perhaps it was naivety. You’d all but told him to piss off last night, yet you expected him to flounce into the lobby, eager to work alongside you–and only you–for the next few hours? The thought alone was so pathetic that you were glad no one else had been around to witness it.

You hoisted the panels and glue back to the supply closet, gripping them with palms slick from embarrassment and frustration. Tonight could have been an opportunity to clear the air about the Ben fiasco and resume your usual lighthearted conversations. His brusque laughter didn’t showcase the subtle dimples that pressed from the corners of his mouth into his cheeks, so unlike the genuine smiles that reached his eyes. Those warm eyes like chocolate chips on a summer day, except they melted you with each foray into his past, each glimpse into what made him, him.

Without them, the night was stagnant.

Amy’s Cafe was a favorite among the student population, especially during finals week. The coffee was usually burnt or weak, but it was cheap and conveniently located near campus, so it stayed afloat. Overworked baristas slid filled-to-the-brim mugs and to-go styrofoam cups to the edge of the counter, hissing espresso machines punctuating the pop music that was piped through the sound system. Exactly the kind of music Eddie would hate.

Eddie. He must have had an extensive errand list, because he still hadn’t returned when your shift ended. Your chest ached with a sadness that burned hotter than your curiosity. You no longer cared what he was up to, just that he preferred it to spending time with you.

Ben already sat at a small table when you arrived, the steam from his cup rising up and fogging his wire-rimmed glasses. He offered you a weary smile, one wrought with fatigue and a nervousness you couldn’t quite place. 

It wasn’t until you plopped into the seat across from him, careful not to spill your own coffee, that you noticed the gray crescents below his eyes that weren’t there on Sunday. Stubble coated his cheeks and chin, more five o’clock shadow than beard, and you were hard-pressed to remember a time he’d seemed this disheveled. 

“You look like shit.”

He raised his brows as he blew on his tea, sending tiny ripples through the citrusy-mint blend. “You sure know how to flatter a guy.”

Between the usual end-of-semester stress and whatever issues were simmering between you and Eddie, you lacked the patience to beat around the bush. “Seriously,” you insisted, “what’s wrong?”

Ben’s sigh held immeasurable weight, and you quickly understood why. “Eisen’s was vandalized last night,” he said quietly. 

“What?!” Your blood ran cold. The mental image of the always-pristine shop abruptly destroyed marred your psyche. 

He nodded. “Yeah. We empty the register at night and put the cash in a safe, so they didn’t get any of that,” he explained, a small consolation. “But they smashed the windows and graffitied the place. All of the shelves, our whole inventory…covered in it.” 

“Is everyone…is your family okay?” If the alarm had sounded and Uncle Mo or Aunt Tam came running in…if the intruder was carrying a weapon…

“We’re fine,” Ben assured you. “I mean, we’re all pretty shook up, but no one’s hurt.” His bottom teeth scraped along his upper lip. “I swept up most of the broken glass after the cops left, but it’s gonna take a while to scrub off the spray paint.”

“I can help,” you volunteered without hesitation. “I can swing by on Thursday afternoon.” There were no formal classes this week; you just had to drop off your paper and then you could go to the shop. 

“Thanks.” Ben kept his attention focused on his mug, dunking the bag aimlessly through the hot liquid. “Um, was your, uh, boyfriend with you last night?” When you wrinkled your nose, he elaborated. “That Eddie guy. He’s your boyfriend, right?”

You shook your head and tried to ignore the internal fluttering spurred on by the thought of Eddie being your boyfriend. “No. He just works for us.” Thirty-six hours ago, you would have referred to him as a friend, but you didn’t know if that was still true. 

Ben cocked an eyebrow. “You sure? Because he seemed pretty…” He searched for the right word, “...territorial over you.”

Territorial. As if you belonged to him. The notion was almost humorous, considering his desperation to avoid you at all costs. If you were his property, he must be a very hands-off landlord. 

“It’s not like that. He just gets competitive.” You filled Ben in on the wasp nest saga, even managing to pull a few chuckles out of him. 

“Okay, fine.” Something in Ben’s tone informed you that he didn’t quite believe you, but he pressed on, both of you well-aware that your love life wasn’t the most urgent issue. “But was he around last night? Hanging the wallpaper or something?”

He wasn’t. You wished more than anything that you could offer an alibi, but you didn’t have a clue where he was. 

It’s a big city; there were millions of places he could go besides Eisen’s. And yet you couldn’t name a single one, your throat bone-dry despite just taking a sip of coffee. 

“N-No, but he wouldn’t—”

“I’m not saying he did,” Ben interjected, firmly but not unkindly. “It’s just, I dunno, a little suspicious that this guy comes to our shop for the first time, hates my guts for some reason, and then the place gets destroyed the next day.” 

There was no denying how strange it was, especially coupled with his poorly explained absence. Something inside you insisted that it wasn’t Eddie, and you clung onto that hope. 

“I’ll talk to him tonight.” Bitterness churned in your stomach and crept up your throat, and you knew it wasn’t from the coffee. Was there anything about the way he’d been dressed that provided insight into his whereabouts? Anything he’d mentioned in passing?

Despite scouring the depths of your brain, you came up empty.

Ben exhaled and squeezed his eyes shut like he was actively trying to forget the memory of the break-in. “Everything was completely smashed. Like someone took a baseball bat to it or something.”

You flashed back to last week when Eddie went after the wasp’s nest with Phyllis’s bat. Did he ask her to borrow it again?

Stop it, you silently scolded yourself. It couldn’t have been Eddie. He might be hotheaded, but that didn’t mean he would destroy Eisen’s. 

Except he had trashed that hotel room because the manager issued a noise complaint. He’d seemed proud of it, laughing as he retold the story, like he’d carried out some meticulously crafted revenge plot. 

Shit. 

“You’re sure there’s nothing going on between you two?” Ben asked again, ripping open another sugar packet and dumping it into his drink. 

“Positive.” Certainly not now when you were barely on speaking terms.You didn’t have time for a relationship; school and work kept you sufficiently busy. 

Not that you wanted anything going on with Eddie. What would you even do together–go on dates at six AM after your shift? Hold hands across the lobby desk? Steal kisses in the supply closet? The two of you making out amongst piles of linens and a rusty toolbox? Your fingers tangled in his hair and your lips pressed to his; his hands gripping your waist and tugging you impossibly close? You couldn’t allow yourself to even consider it a possibility, to allow yourself to want it.

You noticed Ben giving you a wry smile, like he knew something you didn’t, and you snapped back into reality to volley a question back to him. “What about you? Meet any cute girls in dental school?” 

His unexpected cloudiness didn’t match your breezy, teasing tone. “No cute girls.” He paused, mulling over his words for a while before talking again, so softly you could barely hear him over the muzak playing over the café’s sound system. “There were some cute guys, though.”

The admission hung in the air for a moment while you slowly absorbed it. Cute guys, not girls. So Ben was—

A soft throat clearing grabbed your attention; he was anxiously awaiting your response. 

Reaching your hand across the Formica table, you draped your fingers over his and left them there. “How did you…know?” You winced at your own awkwardness. “Sorry, I meant, like, is this something you figured out recently? Or did you know back when we were kids?”

Ben laughed lightly, his shoulders sagging with relief. The worry of rejection left his eyes as he spoke. “Part of me always knew, I think. I just didn’t have a word for it.” He sighed, his breath trembling with residual nerves. “It’s not like we grew up talking about these things.”

He was right; you couldn’t recall a single time that his parents or yours discussed non-heterosexual romantic relationships. A man and a woman get married and have babies. The end. No mention of when two men or two women love one another. 

“Have you told your parents?”

“No.” His voice caught, throat blocked with emotion, and he cleared it again. “I wanted to wait until I finished school and got my own place. Y’know…just in case.”

He didn’t have to finish his sentence. 

“Would they really do that?”

He shrugged, his shoulders once again bearing the weight of the unknown. “I don’t think they’d kick me out,” he admitted, “but they’d definitely be disappointed. Like they did something wrong.”

“You know you can always stay with me if you need,” you said. “I’ll set aside a room for you.” Far away from Eddie’s, you added silently.

Ben’s smile was tight but genuine. “After all of these years, nothing’s changed.” He let out a hoarse laugh. “Does it get exhausting, being the best person ever?”

He was joking, trying his best to shift to a lighter tone, but the accuracy of his question had you temporarily reeling. You weren’t the best person ever, but it was exhausting constantly trying to be. He must have sensed that he grazed a nerve, his eyes softening as he leaned in. “You okay?”

You nodded, your head suddenly acquiring the heft of a boulder. The sound of the mailbox clanging shut and sealing your fate reverberated in your ears. And then Eddie had seen, had cleaned your smudged mascara so warmly that your skin simmered at his touch. Those same fingers might have grasped a can of spray paint or and wielded a bat with the intention of ravaging an innocent business. 

“You always were a terrible liar.” Ben said. He knew you too well, a blessing and a curse. “C’mon—a secret for a secret.”

His permission had your own confession slipping from where it had been tucked away and spilling into the conversation. “I’m majoring in psychology and I’m going to study social work at NYU.” When Ben offered you a confused look, you humbly elaborated. “And, I mean, I know it’s not the same thing as your situation, but I haven’t told my parents about it either.”

The shame burned you, flames nipping at your neck. 

Ben drummed his fingers against the mug’s handle, his nails making a soft cling. “The motel…” he trailed off, mutual understanding replacing the rest of his words. 

Neither of you said anything else for a while, only taking small sips of coffee until you mustered up the energy to speak again. 

“I don’t think they’d kick me out either,” you said, “but that might not matter. Without me to take over, they’d have to sell the place anyway.”

Ben thought for a moment. A teardrop of coffee trickled down the lip to the base, staining the white porcelain with a hazel streak. “Whatever happens, I’m here for you.” It was his turn to hold your hand, enveloping it in the comfort that can only come from a lifelong friend. “And if worse comes to worst, you can always bunk with me. As long as Eddie won’t mind,” he added with a mischievous edge. 

You rolled your eyes as the heaviness evaporated. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Am I?” He raised his brows. “You didn’t see the look on his face when I hugged you. I thought he was gonna knock me into tomorrow.”

“Whatever,” you said evenly, swiftly pivoting the subject to his own romantic endeavors. But the image of Eddie getting upset when Ben hugged you tugged at your mind for the rest of the conversation. You’d initially thought he was irritated about Ben encroaching on his job, but the hug came well before the offer to help. 

Trying to figure out Eddie Munson, you realized, was like jamming a puzzle piece where it didn’t belong. He would remain an enigma until you found the right spot. 

Afternoon bled into night, the overcast skies resulting in a noticeable absence of stars. Rain had been threatening to fall all day, but the humidity still bogged down the clouds when Eddie walked into the lobby at ten-thirty.

“Hey,” he said, raising one hand in an enthusiastic half-wave. His eyes met yours for only a second before pulling away. “I’ll just grab the paper from the supply closet.”

You tossed him the key and he caught it, clenching it in his palm. He smiled, victoriously but fleetingly once he realized it wasn’t being returned. Defeated, he trudged over to the closet. You normally would have followed and helped, but you were held down by what you knew–what you might know, you reminded yourself.

“You, uh, didn’t set up,” he said, shaking out the drop cloth and positioning it against the molding.

“Didn’t know if you had another secret errand to run.” The retort left your lips before you could stop it, and you pinched them together in a belated attempt to quell your anger. 

Eddie bristled, his brush halfway in the vat of glue, but he quickly composed himself and got back to work. You focused your attention on your essay, scanning it for the millionth time in search of misplaced commas or missing words. 

Perfect. It needed to be perfect. 

Silence once again overtook the motel lobby, broken only by the sounds of Eddie slicing the wallpaper at the edges, not bothering to measure before adhering it to the exposed plaster, and the outside traffic. 

You were comfortable with the prolonged quiet, though admittedly less so than before Eddie arrived a few weeks ago, but it must have gnawed at him. He started humming after only fifteen minutes, an unfamiliar tune, smooth in some places and staccato in others. 

“Are you still mad at me or something?”

You loathed the way his voice startled you, your mind too deeply buried in your paper. It caused you to look up and lock eyes with him. His question was wrought with frustration, though you couldn’t tell if it was directed at you or at his own inability to decipher the situation. 

“No.” Yes. 

Eddie sighed and continued working. “Well, if you change your mind, just know that I’m sorry.”

His apology brought back memories of his previous attempt—though ‘attempt’ might be overstating it, and you didn’t want to bite back your response. “It isn’t me you need to apologize to.”

He didn’t bother turning to you when he spoke. “You’re talking about that Bill guy?”

“Ben,” you corrected him, willing yourself to unclench your jaw, “and yes. You were rude to him for no reason.” You pushed aside Ben’s explanation, an improbability in itself. 

“I had a reason.” Venom dripped from each word. “Trust me, I could’ve done worse things than hurt his feelings.” 

And as his grip tightened around the brush, one bluish vein bulging in his forearm, you remembered how gleeful he’d admitted to trashing the hotel. How Ben had said that Eisen’s looked as though someone took a baseball bat to it.

“The store was vandalized last night.” 

All of the oxygen in the room evaporated. Eddie’s unamused chuckle, low in his throat, fissured the silent tension and made it palpable. Real. “And you think I did it.”

“I never said that.” 

But you and he both knew that you didn’t have to; the slight tremor in your voice giving away your true intentions. Even if you weren’t outright accusing him, your tone had too much bite to be conversational.

He threw the brush to the ground and it landed against the cloth with an audible thud. “Whatever.” Another grim laugh, each step towards the desk had your heart sinking further into your chest. “Y’know, I’ve already had a pretty shitty week, and I thought talking to you could turn it around. Should’ve known better.” He wiped his palms on his blue jeans and procured a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, lighting one and taking a long drag. 

You could only imagine the restraint it took for him not to exhale a cloud of smoke directly in your face.

It was a replay of the situation with Izzy’s mother, the assumptions that steeled you against her before you’d ever met and had you painting her as a neglectful parent. Her palpable worry was a slap across your face, and you felt that same sting now with Eddie.

Ruined it. With one stupid comment, you’d obliterated all of the trust built between you. 

“Excuse me, but I have a very busy evening ahead of me,” he said, pointing the cigarette in your direction like an accusation of his own. “I’m supposed to commit arson in fifteen minutes, and if I have time, I might just murder someone.”

No doubt you were at the top of his list.

The realization of your mistake released an anchor of guilt down your stomach. You should have trusted your instincts, should have immediately eschewed any notion that he was the culprit.

You hated yourself for even considering it a possibility, let alone a probability.

“For a sophisticated city girl, you sure remind me of the small-town pricks I grew up with,” Eddie continued, spittle gathering at the corner of his lips. Rage burned in his eyes. “Guess none of those textbooks taught you how to ask questions, huh? Like, ‘Eddie, where were you last night?’ That might’ve been a good start.”

His words were submerged in a poisonous vitriol, purposefully launched with the intent to maim. And yet they weren't inherently aimed at you. Not all of them, anyway. 

In that moment, you were everyone who had ever accused him of a crime he hadn’t committed. You were the security guards who ‘kept an eye’ on him when he went shopping, the middle-aged women who scowled and clutched their pearls at his tattoos, the people in his hometown who wrote him off as a devil-worshiping freak. 

Guilty until proven innocent. 

The fingers on your left hand slotted between the gaps on your right and pressed into your palm, a distraction from the lump forming in your throat. Crying was not an option, it exposed your vulnerability and opened you up to further ridicule. The only thing worse than Eddie using your tears against you was if he took pity on you; there was no way you could handle that level of humiliation. 

“Eddie, I—” 

You’d finally found your footing in the conversation, and it was promptly clipped. “Just assumed that I was off breaking and entering. A little blue collar crime is nothing new for trailer trash like me, right?” He shook his head in faux disbelief. “Is this how you’re gonna treat your clients?”

That final comment was a lit match that ignited a powderkeg within you, and since you refused to shed a single tear, it exploded in the only other way possible.

“You,” you jabbed your finger into his chest, no longer caring about whatever professional boundaries you might be crossing. Those had flown out the window once he’d purposely dredged up your insecurities. “You are the one who bailed on your job with the lamest excuse I’d ever heard and expected me not to get suspicious.” Your heart beat double-time, pumping raw anger in lieu of blood. “And you are the one who bragged about trashing a hotel room when the manager had the audacity to enforce a rule.” 

Eddie took a small step back, your biting reply an arrow to the gut. Perhaps even he felt it, too; the way he’d taken his tirade over the line. Gray flakes fell from his cigarette and onto the desk, the ashy clump having grown too heavy for gravity. 

You weren’t done, despite his apparent surrender. “You’re not my client. And I’m not Nancy Drew, so don’t act like I’m responsible for solving your bullshit mysteries.”

His nostrils flared as he regained his composure. “Asking a question isn’t—” a door creaking open and subsequent irritated footsteps halted his retort. Both of you broke eye contact to watch as Phyllis padded up the hallway and into the lobby. Irritation accentuated her smeared-lipstick frown, and she pulled her robe across her body, tugging on the belt in frustration. 

“I don’t know what this little lovers’ quarrel is about,” she hissed through clenched teeth, dragging an arthritic finger between you and Eddie, “but it’s killing the mood. So if you could wrap it up, we’d greatly appreciate it.”

You nearly choked on your tongue, and pink splotches decorated Eddie’s stubbled cheeks. 

“We’re not—”

“It isn’t—”

But Phyllis had already stalked back to her room, never one to keep a gentleman caller waiting. 

Neither you nor Eddie said a word for a few seconds, the heat of embarrassment still nipping at your bodies. A lovers’ quarrel? Phyllis clearly had a convoluted sense of romance if she thought you and Eddie were lovers. 

Eddie shattered the silence first, mumbling something nearly unintelligible about needing an ashtray. The dam that restrained your snarkiness had apparently buckled and burst, because when he turned to leave, his back to you, you called out, “see how easy it is to tell me where you’re going?”

He stopped, the cigarette between his fingers now ash down to the filter, but he didn’t turn around. His voice was low in his throat, a slight tremor as he spoke. “That’s real rich, coming from the person whose parents think she’s going to school for hospitality.”

That was low, but unlike his comment about accusing your future clients, this one was true. There was nothing you could say in response, no rebuttal would suffice. You hated the way words stilled in your chest, wishing you could fling insult after insult about his failed music career, but you were simply too tired.

You managed to stave off your tears until he had fully rounded the corner, burying your head in your hands to muffle your sobs. Pathetic. That’s what you were: a pathetic mess, bold enough to start an argument but too cowardly to finish it. And so there you stood, elbows digging into the wooden desktop until splinters pierced your skin, the distance between you and Eddie growing with each passing second.

Holding your own with other guests was usually second-nature for you, but other guests weren’t Eddie. They weren’t hanging around the lobby and asking you about your hopes and dreams. They weren’t willingly offering up their most vulnerable selves just to reassure you. They weren’t tagging along on errands and turning ordinary subway rides into small adventures.

They also weren’t sneaking around and making watered-down excuses, then painting you as the bad guy for doubting their intentions.

Half of you ached to apologize; the other half wanted to toss him and his trash bag luggage to the curb and not look back.

Warm tears slid down the slope of your nose until you tasted their salt on your lips. Stopping them seemed an impossible task, your mind hovering above your body like a separate entity altogether. Your breaths were jagged and uneven, an irregular pattern of shallow inhales and strained exhales. 

There was no sense in throwing yourself a pity party, not when you got yourself into this mess. If you were going to wallow in your own misery, you could at least be productive while you cried. 

Eddie had barely started the re-wallpapering, so cleaning up was not a daunting task. You rolled the paper back around the tube, keeping it tightly wound for easier transport. It was clunky; you had to adjust it twice in the short distance to the closet, but you managed to get it there with it unraveling. 

A gentle scrape across the desk made you peek out from behind the closet door, your red-stained, swollen eyes landing on Eddie once again. An unlit cigarette dangled from his lower lip, his fingers clenched around the jet-black lighter you hadn’t noticed he’d left behind.

He saw you, too, his lips forming a tense smile. 

“Forgot this,” he said, holding up the lighter with a little shake. The jaded lines of his face softened when he clocked your tear-streaked cheeks, and that minor show of sympathy had you eager to crawl beneath a rock. 

You waited for him to say something, anything, but he just let his gaze fall to where you were twisting the lid back onto the glue. Tucking the cigarette behind his ear and covering it with a curtain of curls, he hoisted the bucket and brought it back to the supply closet.

“Thanks.” It was safe yet genuine, not an invitation for a conversation nor a dismissal. 

Eddie shrugged. “S’fine,” he lisped, the cigarette placed back between his lips as he lit it. “Needed to clean up anyway.”

Optimism—whatever you could muster up of it—rattled against your ribcage like a prisoner yearning for freedom. If he cared about cleaning up, maybe that meant he was going to finish the job another time. You didn’t dare ask him, only nodding your head in acknowledgment. 

Friends fight, right? Your nagging need for reassurance poised the question on the tip of your tongue, but your fear of looking desperate anchored it there. I didn’t ruin everything, did I?

The flick of the lighter sparked a flame, Eddie’s hand protectively cupped around it. “Well, um, g’night,” he said, giving an awkward half-wave. 

“Good night.” Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow. But you didn’t manage that addendum, and Eddie retreated to his room. 

When you slept that morning, you dreamt that he turned back around. 

--

taglist (now closed ♥):

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[bonny-kookoo]

Ahhhh .. I love the Someone Older couple already !! Could we maybe get a drabble, where YN takes care of JK after his accident?

Of course!

Jungkooks house is.. huge.

But it also feels a little stale almost, like an apartment you'd find on pinterest or those websites that sell furniture. Like a display home, not being lived in.

There are some traces of him here and there, but no solid proof that it's him who's made those little hints happen- there's no personality to most of the decoration or even the furniture.

You're trying your best to help, and he's grateful. Even though you have to ask a lot, mostly where what is placed, you're still taking a good amount of weight off his shoulders.

He's eating slowly, mostly because he can't move his arm very quickly due to the bruising still, but even if he could, he wants to savor this. Not even a day of you staying over, and he's already noticed the faint smell of your bodywash lingering in his main bathroom. Your sweater on his couch. Your shoes at the door.

You're filling up his empty house with something alive. Something warm to contrast the white walls.

"Are you cold?" He asks as he notices the way you keep rubbing your socked feet against one another beneath the table.

"The tiles are cold." You say, and he chuckles.

"Gotta get you some slippers then." He suggests, and you shrug.

"Maybe." You agree. Does he want to just make you comfortable, or is he hinting at something more permanent? "Where do I sleep tonight?" You wonder, watching him finish his plate as he leans back, stretching for a second- painful face to go along with it, muscles still aching badly.

"Next to me, preferably." He shrugs after he gives up trying to have his stiff muscles relax. "But you can also take the guest room, if you'd like." Jungkook tells you, giving you another option just in case.

You feel a bit conflicted.

Will he compare you to what he knew with Evelyn if you sleep in the same bed she has before? Will he remember the things they both had, the happy times when they had cuddled or made love, and start reflecting on what this is now instead? It's weird. You want to be close to him, but not in the same spot he used to love another woman.

You're so selfish.

"I uhm.." You're not sure how to properly explain your problem, involuntarily glancing over to a coat left on the hanger near the front door, and Jungkook chuckles.

"She hated this house." He says. "She never liked it. Was angry at me for months when I bought it despite her distaste for it." Jungkook explains. "I got.. rid of most of the furniture and redesigned it all after she left."

"Huh?" You wonder, surprised.

"I just didn't want her anymore. I was hurt." He shrugs. "But in every.. object so to say, I saw a glimpse of her. Mocking me." He confesses. "And I couldn't stand it."

"So you.. threw out the furniture?" You wonder, and he laughs.

"Sold it, to be more precise." He corrects gently. "But yes. That's why it now looks so.."

"Sterile." You mumble, and he nods.

"I didn't want anything like what used to be in here. A complete opposite." He says, before he looks at the coat near the front door. "That coat by the way isn't hers. It's Taehyung's wife's." He says, watching fondly how you become a bit shy at being found out like that.

"I.. oh." You simply nod a bit awkwardly, when his hand reaches out to hold yours on the table.

"She forgot it months ago, Tae never picked it up." He chuckles. "And my bedroom has.. never seen anyone ever in it but me." He further teases, making your eyes snap up to his own, a strange, boyish excitement almost in his gaze.

"I think it's time to change that, don't you think?"

[mohavesun]

pretty boy - josh futturman x reader <3

going back in time was weird. granted, everything was weird. but seeing your boyfriend in women’s lingerie? weird. but also weirdly sexy.

content warning: 18+!!!, oral (male receiving), praise kink, hair pulling, a bit of choking. josh wearing lingerie in that one episode has me in a chokehold. not proofread so just ignore any mistakes lol

“fuck it, i’ll do it,” you grab the bag off of the asphalt, exactly where tiger dropped it to chase down wolf.

the bag was filled to the brim with silky robes and lacy panties, corsets and garters that would dress your curves perfectly. josh grabbed the bag out of your hands, a mortified expression on his face as he exclaims, “no! no, you can’t, that’s… no, no way.”

your lips curl into a frown. “josh. it’s for the future.”

“wh-f-fuck the future! no! you’re not… i’m… let me do it. i’ll do it.” your boyfriend’s face contorted into a conflicted expression. he looked into the bag, at the lingerie. his lips pressed into a thin line, an evident sign of a thought process emerging from his brain. he finally looked up, putting his hands on your shoulders. “i’ll be right back. love you.” he pressed a kiss to your cheek, before dashing off behind a bush and behind kronish’s house. you just watched, left standing on the sidewalk with an exasperated expression.

would that shit even fit on him? he did have a thin waist. sure, most of your clothes fit him. but he had never worn your lingerie, or underwear, or bras. although the thought of your boyfriend wearing lingerie was… exciting, in a strange way.

-

after what seemed like a million different people running into kronish’s house, tiger being one of them, josh finally ran out.

wearing… a set of silky lingerie.

“josh?” you couldn’t help but stare at the man in front of you. he was wide-eyed, sweat clinging to his forehead, his hair messy, as though he had been jumping through windows or crawling around on all fours. best of all, a shade of coral lipstick was smeared across his lips, smudged across his chin.

he smiled, a fleck of lipstick on his front tooth. “we gotta go, i can’t be seen wearing this,” josh huffs, reaching to your shoulders, an attempt to take your jacket off.

a familiar warmth stirred in your belly as your eyes lingered onto his body, a corset clinging to his chest and a pair of leopard-print panties, making his bulge very prominent, as well as thigh garters hugging his legs. a feather boa was draped around his neck. and fuck, he looked delicious.

“uh.. what?” he looked at your strange expression. your cheeks were lit a flame, your pupils blown, and your mouth suddenly dry, along with a fluttering sensation in your lower stomach.

you stared a moment longer, causing heat to erupt into his face, a blush spreading all over his pale body. “wh-what?” he looked like a deer in headlines, his sweet brown eyes wide, his hands fluttering over his crotch almost self-consciously.

you snap out of your lustful fog, shaking your head with a comforting grin. “no, no, you, uh- you look good! uh, too good. hot. fuck, we have to get you in different clothes, i think i’ll actually have a conniption.” you shed your jacket, throwing it around his shoulders with one last glimpse at his body, soft and kissable, wrapped like a christmas present.

“what?” your boyfriend was dumbfounded, but you could see his pupils blow with the realization that you were into this. he stuttered, “yo-you what? you mean, you’re, like… turned on, right now?”

you grab his hand, hastily pulling him down the sidewalk. he struggled to keep up with your stride, his breathing growing heavier by the moment.

“you’re seriously, like, you’re into this? right now?” josh stutters, trying not to overthink, his eyes fixated on the ways your hips moved in front of him.

“how—how could i not be?” you scoff, practically sprinting towards the futturman house.

“slow down, i-it’s hard to.. fuck,” josh kicked off his heels and began running barefoot behind you.

-

“god, why do you look so good?” you grumbled, helping him into the window of his—or, his uncle barry’s—room. you climbed in behind him, tumbling onto the floor.

josh’s cheeks were bright red, nearly the color of the lipstick that smudged across his lips to his cheek. “i-i didn’t know you were into this kind of thing,” he stammered, holding his hands out to help you stand, like the gentleman he is.

however, as you looked up to grab onto his hand, you were met with the mouth-watering sight of his half-hardened cock pressing against his leopard print panties, a wet patch along his tip.

suddenly, you didn’t feel like getting off the ground anymore.

“you like seeing me like this, don’t you? god, you look so fucking pretty, josh,” you murmur, hands on his knees, trailing your fingertips up his thighs.

josh’s legs trembled under your touch, as sensitive as he always was. “i-ah… yes, yes…”

you hooked your finger under the garter belt, pulling the elastic band back and letting it slap against his thigh, eliciting a soft gasp from your boyfriend.

“please,” josh whimpered, his cock now fully hard in a pair of panties that could barely contain his excitement.

you shift closer, sitting up on your knees and looking up at him. his big, brown eyes were wide, eyebrows knit together and lips slightly parted. you stared into his doe-like eyes as you drag his panties down to his ankles, only breaking eye contact to look at the throbbing, leaking cock in front of you.

you’d never get tired of seeing josh like this—and you’d certainly never seen a prettier cock than his. his tip was flushed a beautiful shade of pink, weeping precum, dripping down to the veins that adorned his shaft. another throb of arousal shot through you at the sight.

“oh, f—oh, my god, please,” josh whined, his hands pulling your hair out of your face, “need you—s-so bad…”

“be patient, pretty boy,” you murmur, dragging your tongue along the inside of his thighs, eliciting a sharp gasp from him.

you pressed a series of open-mouthed kisses to his thighs, leaving a trail of hickeys only for you to see, before finally dragging your tongue against his heavy balls, grazing the underside of his cock before reaching his tip, tongue swirling the drop of precum that seeped from his slit.

“oh, mmph—oh, y-yes—“ josh released a series of gratifying moans, his fingers curling in your hair so tightly that it invoked a stinging sensation along your scalp. “feels… so good, oh, god… doing so g-good…”

your mouth enclosed around his tip, tongue along the underside of his shaft, encompassing his dick completely into your warm, wet mouth, until your nose was buried in his tuft of public hair and his tip prodded at the back of your throat.

his lips parted to an O shape, his thighs trembling as he tried desperately not to buck into your mouth.

“mmm…” you hummed against him, the vibrations sending a wave of pleasure through josh’s veins. your hand teased his balls, gently caressing them as you bobbed your head back at a mind-numbing pace.

your name fell from josh’s pretty red lips, a string of praises following, his hands still tightly wrapped in your hair as he guided your mouth, careful not to gag you.

he was so considerate, even when his cock was stuffed in your mouth.

“soo—so good, fuck,” josh cried, his bottom lip catching between his teeth as his glassy eyes watched you with blown pupils.

you hummed again, allowing him to push your mouth down and back up, pulling your hair just enough to send goosebumps along your skin. your pace gradually increased, bobbing along with the rhythm he created, every movement causing a whine or a whimper from josh.

“i’m close, fuck, can i…? i—mmm, oh, god, let me cum in your throat, please,” he cried, his stomach contracting and his cock throbbing in your mouth. his legs stuttered, hips beginning to twitch and shudder, meeting your mouth half-way with sloppy thrusts.

“mm—mhm,” was the only response you could muster, drool dribbling down your lip and down your chin.

the vibration of your voice only amplified his orgasm, causing him to push your head against his cock, messily fucking into your mouth as his dick twitched, releasing spurts of hot cum down your throat, choking and gagging you.

“so—sorry, i’m-im so—oo sorry, mmmphh!” josh moaned, eyes rolling back as he choked you against his cock before pulling out, tip still seeping cum onto your chin, a string of semen connecting his slit to your lips.

you gasped for air, swallowing and taking deep breaths, hands holding onto his thighs for support.

“holy—shit, a-are okay? oh, god, i’m sorry, it just—f-felt so good,” josh knelt down, his hands wiping away the sweat on your forehead. his fingers were shaky as he tried to clean your face, eyes wide with worry and cheeks flush from his orgasm.

“i’m—fine…” you breathed, nodding before raising your hand to his cheek, thumb swiping at the smudge of lipstick, “you’re… so hot.”

[teddywesworl]

different anon but re: sex scenes ask, i’m curious to see how you lay out things to outline for continuity of characterization, and what the drive and stakes are in a scene to avoid the sexual archetypes. would you mind sharing what that process looks like for you? really admire your technical breakdowns of writing (yes even and especially when they end up being ‘controversial’)

ok so. I had to take this ask to a word doc to get all my thoughts in order, so that’s your fair warning about how involved my answer is going to be.

First off, I gotta say I always think it’s funny and strange which “takes” of mine get people in a twist, because it’s very frequently the really basic foundational stuff that you would be taught in the first week or two of any introductory fiction writing class. One time, multiple people blocked me on twitter for saying that every paragraph should serve the whole and that readers will get bored if you go on tangents that have nothing to do with the core drive of the story. There was a qrt with the ‘no fun allowed’ robot. I was basically explaining what “kill your darlings” actually means, but even that was too much.

That said, I think the key to continuity of character in sex scenes is very simple: treat sex as any other action, and treat sex scenes like any other scene.

Naturally, that’s easier said than done, because it contains within itself a pair of mandates:

Get your character fundamentals down before attempting to apply them to sex, and

Deconstruct your own relationship with DHSM archetypes.

Yes, sorry, the almost three hour long Contrapoints Twilight video really is the best framework I’ve ever encountered for breaking down cultural norms concerning sex in fiction (and irl tbh), and I think it’s required viewing for anyone who really wants to deliberately subvert those norms.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Step one: character fundamentals.

In the simplest possible terms, good smut is character work. You’re taking blorbo and putting them in a situation. Often, this is a deeply vulnerable situation wrapped up in a lot of emotions. What kind of emotions are they feeling? Do they feel vulnerable? How do they respond to that vulnerability? Are the blorbos boning out of love? Affection? Frustration? Fear of loss? Is it a hatefuck? Multiple of the above? That’s layer one.

Next layer down: are both (or however many) parties here for the same reason, or are their motivations and experiences different? Everyone in a story has their own drives which may be in conflict with one another or, at the very least, play off of one another in interesting ways; the same principle should apply to sex scenes.

Example.

This is from chapter 2 of baseless fabric:

Rook’s fingers bury themselves in Lucanis’s hair, her nails scraping his scalp. “I’ll show you,” she says, and then—oh, yes—tongues and teeth and spit! Rook’s arms around Lucanis’s neck. Arching backs and sweet sighs and a pleasure that fogs Lucanis’s mind. Rook pulls at Lucanis, and Lucanis tries to keep his hips away. He is embarrassed at how quickly he has grown hard; he is alarmed that he could be so forward, so presumptuous as to expose himself in this way and to seek this kind of pleasure in her. Why? asks Spite. It is for her. She came to you for this. Lucanis struggles against this reasoning, though he knows that Spite is correct. That strange despair deep within grows fat on this knowledge. He is still afraid, and it was such long and difficult work to accept that he would never be desired in this way by a person he desired in turn.

Three parties are involved in this scene: Spite, Lucanis, and Rook.

Spite has no sexual attraction or sex drive per se, because he is a non-corporeal entity to whom those concepts are kind of alien, but he enjoys physical pleasure and has an emotional attachment to both Lucanis and Rook, so there’s no reason to believe he wouldn’t enjoy sex. He experiences everything Lucanis’s body does, and he has a front row seat to the inner workings of Lucanis’s fucked up little brain. In the video game as written, one could argue that Spite’s core drive is essentially to help Lucanis first survive and then recover from extraordinary trauma (out of. Spite. literally). He picks apart Lucanis’s fear and self-hatred and exposes all of it to Rook, in full confidence that Rook can fix it.

Lucanis, meanwhile, is a big ol’ demi virgin who (I was just talking w @ofcrowsanddragons about this last night) has come to view his own basic human needs as monstrous. It’s dangerous for him to need anything. Even sleep! He’s had both physical and emotional vulnerability drilled out of him from a very young age! He can’t let anyone know he needs! What if his needs are exploited? What if someone notices he needs something and takes advantage? For Lucanis, I imagine that allowing himself to be vulnerable in a safe, controlled way that feels good, with someone he trusts entirely, would be… woof. Very intense.

Rook is the wild card in terms of fanfic and character study, because, as a customizable PC, she could be anything. And she might be physically undescribed in my fics, but the character choices I’ve made aren’t by mistake; I’m writing about The Lucanis Romance, after all, and that provides opportunities for Rook to play both partner and foil. And so: my Rook is sexually experienced, shameless, and a bit vulgar, and she grew up poor. She’s Lucanis’s opposite in a lot of ways, and she serves to highlight his hangups by contrast. He talks down at himself for “seeking pleasure in her,” while her desire for him is uncomplicated. She wants this guy. She cares for him. It feels good when he touches her. On its own, maybe that’s not super interesting fodder for fiction, but she and Spite force Lucanis to reckon with his irrational self-talk and maladaptive coping mechanisms. She can get away with being a bit two-dimensional, because her main function in the story is to challenge his perspective.

The climax (lol) of the fic is arguably the following line in chapter 3: “The despair of fulfillment, the anguish of joy—he thinks he is not made for such things, and so he fights them, even desperate as he is to submit.” Everything in this first encounter between Lucanis and Rook builds toward that final evolution of the idea that Lucanis fears his own emotional needs and resists their fulfillment.

Et voila: Lucanis’s character is examined and has the opportunity to develop through sex!

Still, I admit, all of this is easier said than done. Character study of any kind takes practice to get a feel for, and writing effective character-driven sex requires that you be aware of your own relationship with culturally imposed norms.

Step two: becoming an archetype understander

Watch the Contrapoints video if you haven’t. Yes, in full. I promise it’s worth it. But if you want to save it for later and keep reading this post now, DHSM stands for Default Heterosexual Sado-Masochism, and it’s an extremely useful framework for understanding how patriarchal romantic and sexual roles are organized.

Natalie Wynn defines DHSM as “a division of sexuality into bipolar roles,” as follows:

She goes on: “In reality, none of these roles are interchangeable or even necessarily correlated. Being masculine does not imply being a top, and neither imply being dominant. […] But in DHSM, these roles are assumed to be bundled together and assumed to belong to the sexuality of men.”

I contend that when we are reading E-rated fanfiction and we cross that jarring threshold from in-character plot to out-of-character smut, we have most often just encountered the author deferring to cultural sex scene-writing norms prescribed by DHSM. And, importantly, the sex scene doesn’t have to be heterosexual for DHSM to be in the room!

One of the most important things you can do as you’re writing sex is to ensure that you are aware of the cultural pressure to conform to this false dichotomy.  Notice I didn’t even say ‘don’t conform;’ there are certainly ways to examine & play with DHSM while nominally conforming to it. However, DHSM is omnipresent as a basic assumption in mainstream romance and romantic subplot, and you may be surprised at the extent to which the average person automatically reaches for it while writing. In fact, once you start seeing it, you may not be able to stop.

One of the things I really like about Lucanis as a character is his relationship to DHSM. He’s an assassin, arguably a professional predator. He is extremely rich, and he ends the story with a nation-shaping amount of political power. He is also, quite literally, possessed. His whole personal arc is about his fraught relationship with agency. His romance arc requires that you, the player, pursue him to a much more dramatic degree than any of the other companions, just to get to the point of acknowledged flirtation. He breaks the assumed role. He looks like the Latin Lover trope sprouted wings; but that’s not him.

This is, frankly, why a large proportion of the Rookanis ao3 tag bums me out: there’s so much fic in there that pulls back toward that assumption of bipolarity, flattening him as a result. Lucanis as an aggressive or dominant lover does nothing for me, because I feel that it misunderstands his approach to intimacy.

Now what?

I’ve just said an embarrassing number of words about writing pornography. But how does one synthesize all this stuff?

Here’s an exercise I recommend:

Pick a pairing of your choice and consider each character’s relationship with the DHSM dichotomy. Deliberately run down those columns above and decide which character more closely matches each descriptor in each pair, individually—if they match either, which they may not! Examine the ways in which that pairing might break bipolarity.

Then, try to come up with a sexual scenario that demonstrates that break in DHSM. This is a valuable exercise because it attacks both points simultaneously: it forces you to think of your character fundamentals, and it directly challenges the archetypes.

To use the same baseless fabric example, Rook is clearly the pursuer, but she’s got an exhibitionist streak, and she very much desires penetration:

She leans back, rests her weight on her hands, and deliberately opens the vee of her thighs. Her chemise drapes across them, and it hides very little. There is a shadow beneath, intensified by the flicker of the hearth, and Lucanis’s eye is drawn inexorably down—

Later in the same scene, Spite's POV refers to the act of penetrating Rook as surrender:

The body knows what to do. The instinct for it is ancient and innate, and the rhythm is made at the conjunction of Lucanis’s flesh and heart and mind. It is surrender, a hopeless exposure of underbelly and throat, and it feels good. Lucanis plants one hand on the table and rolls his hips.

Lucanis also acknowledges, multiple times, that he had his own preconceived notions about how sex is supposed to go, which Rook has challenged. For example:

Rook hums and smiles and closes the narrow gap between them. What begins as a simple press of lips develops into the luxuriant slide of tongues, Lucanis pushing the hem of her chemise up so he can bury his hand between her thighs. Rook hooks a knee over Lucanis’s hip and tugs him in until he acquiesces and thrusts into her. It is all slow and lazy. Soft. It feels the way Lucanis always thought it should, except in the ways he couldn’t have foreseen. His body aches from the violence of the previous day, and Rook’s must, as well; the pleasure cuts through the pain, colors it, transforms it into something almost sweet. Rook’s arms coil around him, and she makes the most beautiful little sounds.

(Uh oh, buddy! That's a little masochistic of you!)

If you are working deliberately to improve your character-driven sex scenes, I strongly recommend starting with short (up to like 3k words) ficlets as practice. Pick a trope or two to toss in for extra “put the blorbos in situations” sauce. Forced proximity! Drunken confessions! Hurt/comfort! Fuck or die! Etc. All great fun. Alternately, sometimes you will simply be possessed by the knowledge that certain characters will have certain kinks. Like Lucanis and somnophilia (you get it, right? I don’t even have to explain why. Isn’t that neat?).

As a side benefit, doing this exercise thoughtfully will make you better at character writing more generally. No, really. Spending this time analyzing characters’ relationships to intimacy will help you understand what makes them tick in so many other ways.

Let me sum up.

So, in summary: good smut is character work, and you need your character fundamentals first. However, cultural norms impose the division of sexuality into bipolar roles. Breaking that bipolarity subverts a subconscious expectation, adds tension and interest, and forces both writer and reader to really think about the characters in front of them.

Does that……. Does that answer your question about process?? I swear I didn’t start with the intent to write two thousand earth words about this. And also, I don’t typically sit down and think to myself “how will I break DHSM today?” I have enough practice at this point (and a deep enough obsession with the function of social power) that my disdain for DHSM automatically inserts itself into basically everything I write. I do think these two pieces (1. character first and 2. fuck DHSM) make up the foundation of how I approach smut, though, so hopefully this has been a useful response!!

[moon-buggg]

Has Y/N ever gotten genuinely upset/frustrated/angry at HH!Sun and/or Moon?

In general? Yeah of course, the boys are a bit of an acquired taste at the best of times and they both show affection in... strange ways. It takes some getting used to, and even then conflict is inevitable in any relationship. Sometimes you just aren't in the mood to get jumpscared and they aren't... always the best on picking up on that, for example. As for something more specific....

"Again again, we neeed to do it again!"

"Sun," you struggle to form the words, "we've been at this for ages. Can't we take a break?" You don't bother trying to tell him that you don't need to run through the script again, that you could recite it backwards at this point- that's a loosing battle.

The boss had issued a new routine- a seasonal script to really celebrate Halloween had been his sell- and the two of you had been practising for so long your throat is on fire. You're exhausted. You really don't have another 'from the top!' in you.

"No no no!! It's not good enough!" he shouts, spindly hands grasping at his rays. At first it was hard not to flinch away from his exaggerated movements, but you're more than used to them by now. You know your Sun, and he's always so, so careful with you.

Today, however, it seems his perfectionism has gotten the better of him.

"Sun," you say, more harshly than you maybe meant, "I'm not a robot, I need a break."

"NOO!!" his sudden shout makes you jump. "We can't stop! It's not perfect! We can't stop until it's perfect! If we do something- something-" Sun is all jittering movement, harsh and frantic. It's hard to be too sympathetic. 

"What! What will happen?" You're tired. You're thirsty. You are not in the fucking mood. It's uncharitable, you know that, and you'll probably feel awful about it but you still shout at him.

He stills at your outburst. "...I can't tell you."

You sigh, and slowly raise your hands to your head. "Of course not."

Sun... stops... for a minute. The silence would be suspicious if you couldn't hear him shifting his weight from foot to foot. You don't look up at him, letting the silence hang heavy between the two you. You don't lower your hands when you finally go to speak.

"Sun. I'm not going to improve like this," you're careful with your words, keeping your tone nice and even. You can't stop some of your exhaustion from bleeding in. "If you want me to do better I gotta take a break." You know he's precious about his scenes, you want everything to go smoothly too, but the line had to be drawn somewhere. You pull your face out of your hands and Sun seems to stop and actually, finally, really look at you.

It's always a little hard to tell what they're thinking, but now, staring at Sun's blank, frozen smile, you truly have no clue. He's gone stock still, and looks bizarre without the movement. Utterly devoid of any of his usual tells.

It... doesn't make you feel great.

"It's not about you," he says, almost whispers- quietly. A hurried sound not explicitly meant for you to hear. It's baffling enough for the burning annoyance to simmer down. But not disappear.

"What? Is it about you then?" his silence is answer enough. "You're not gonna forget your lines, Sun." He can't, not with the script directly uploaded into that big head of his. Maybe, in the future, you would chalk your confusion up to exhaustion, but you honestly have no idea what he's talking about.

Sun doesn't answer, but finally moves. Giant metal arms wrap around his torso. He makes a frustrated groan. He doesn't tell you what he's really worried about. Doesn't tell you about the slowly accumulating small glitches, or how he's worried one might happen with his hands around you. "Your shifted ended 7 minutes ago," he does say, eventually. Choosing this moment to disappear off set and notifying Moon not to try and goad you into staying. He does not respond to the questioning message Moon sends back.

All while leaving you to find your own way out, utterly confused and mad and worried.

[sparklingcid3r]

reading your most recent post the details of pony and soda during the week after their parents died is literally so sad. what do you think they were doing/ reacting as darry was constantly working and planning everything for them? like even just the adjustment of that their parents are dead, and now they dont even recognize their brother who is ordering them around

Part 2 of this post

When the police left, they took all the sound of their house with them. Shock clung like smoke to their skin. Pony held onto Soda’s arm, Soda put his hand above Pony’s, but they were both staring at the same thing.

Soda churned through the voicelessness first.

“Darry?” he asked, quiet. Quieter than he’d ever said anything in his life.

There was a time a little while ago when Soda really did believe that Darry knew how to do everything. Throw him a soccer ball and, after a few seconds of getting a feel for it, he was juggling five, ten, twenty in a row. Give him a math problem from Soda’s homework and Darry slid it back with not only an answer, but neatly organized steps on how he arrived there. Hell, he even taught Soda how to shotgun his first beer. Soda couldn’t stump him. Darry was never misguided, never unsure about anything in his life.

But Darry wouldn’t look at them. He was watching the officers getting into their cruiser and pulling out of their driveway.

Pony was shaking. When he collapsed to his knees, Soda went down with him, but he kept his eyes on Darry, waiting to see what his brother did next. Whatever he said, Soda would listen. Whatever he ordered, Soda would do.

Darry never spoke. Soda waited for something, anything, just a fragment of clarity, of reprieve among the screaming, screaming, Pony was screaming into Soda’s shirt, and Darry stayed silent.

A strange look entered Darry’s eyes when he turned and stared at their pathetic huddle. His hand was against the door, holding up his entire weight. Soda tried to get him to meet his wide, damp gaze with the reassurance that it was a false alarm, they got the wrong house. But when Darry’s mouth stayed closed, he realized like lightning striking every nerve in his body that Darry didn’t see him at all. He was looking right through him, his sharp blue eyes trapped behind a fog of dullness. Darry was lost.

A cry shuddered through Soda and he tugged Pony closer, let his kid brother hang onto his neck while he heaved with sobs.

“Darry?” Soda tried again, pleading. The effort of pushing air out to make a sound scathed the walls of his throat. His voice went high-pitched, shrill. “Darrel?”

Darry blinked and it was like he’d come back to himself from someplace far away. His face fixed itself into something colder, and when he crouched in front of Soda and Pony, Soda was caught between wanting to flinch away and lean into his arms. Let him take Pony, let Soda have his turn to breathe, wait for Darry to open Soda’s lungs again.

Darry reached out like he was going to take Soda by the back of the head and pull him in, but he stopped short, a conflict waging openly across his face. His eyes flickered from Soda to Pony’s wailing form, who hadn’t even noticed Darry’s shadow descending to blanket them, and helplessness flashed before he steeled himself once more.

“Go to your rooms,” was all he said.

He rose to his feet and Soda stumbled, barely catching himself on the hardwood. “Darry, where are you going?” Darry ignored him. Time was moving too fast. Soda couldn’t do this, but there was only one person he’d ever turned to. Why was he walking away? “Help me, Darry, please. Please, don’t—I can’t, Darry. Don’t go.”

Darry never came back. Soda was on his own, but Darry left him with a way forward. He didn’t abandon Soda completely. Their rooms, Soda had to get Pony to his room.

“Pony?” Soda said. His own breaths were quick and skipping, he choked on air every time he opened his mouth. “Pony, baby, you gotta get up. C’mon, honey, please.”

He grabbed Pony and tried to untangle their limbs, put Pony back together and tug him to his feet. Pony gasped and cried out for Ma and Dad, even sobbed around Soda and Darry’s names. He was guiding a newborn deer through the hallway, making sure Pony’s legs could hold him up for long enough until it was safe again to crumple.

Soda tucked them both into bed, holding Pony’s head to his chest and waiting out the storm of both their fresh grief. Pony was losing steam and tears, crying himself dry, but even when he fell asleep, Soda didn’t dare shift.

Thuds reverberated through the house. Darry was on the move and Soda’s heart was in his throat. He wanted to open the door and check if a suitcase was in Darry’s hands, if he was scouring the house for his belongings and the next time Soda and Pony emerged, they’d be met with an even emptier house and go through tonight all over again.

Pony’s grip around Soda didn’t slacken for hours. He woke up screaming in short bursts, so often that Soda scrapped the idea of trying to sleep himself. He soothed Pony’s whimpers with soft shushes, running his hand through his hair and waiting until it lulled Pony back into a fitful rest.

When Pony’s red-ringed eyes shut once more, tears hanging from his lashes, Soda slipped free and rushed to the bathroom. He dropped to his knees and heaved into the bowl, emptying his stomach of his dinner, and when there was nothing left, he slumped against the wall and gripped his hair in his fingers, tugging just hard enough to feel something.

He couldn’t hear Darry wandering through the house anymore, but he doubted anyone was truly slumbering.

Morning found the Curtis brothers with bruised eyes and barely holding themselves together. The eldest was gone, replaced by Steve Randle and Johnny Cade. One for each of them. Darry must have planned it. For some reason, it made him bitter.

“Where’d he go?” Soda asked Steve. The eggs on his plate were untouched and cold. Something in his face must have convinced Steve, but Soda wouldn’t have been able to replicate it. He didn’t even know what he looked like.

“The morgue. He said they needed him to—identify. I’m sorry, man.”

Soda looked over his shoulder for Pony, concern spiking through him. Had he heard that? His imagination was too vivid, anything at all could set him off. Already it was strangling him at night. They needed to be more careful with what they said and where they said it. Pony could only take so much.

Darry was back in an hour. He walked in and kept the door open to let Steve and Johnny out. Poor Johnny. Pony was catatonic, there was nothing he could have done for him. Soda appreciated his efforts regardless.

Darry was a ghost for the next several days. He drifted in and out of the house while Soda tended to Pony. As much as it angered him, he couldn’t even be sure what he was angry at. Darry refused to stick around long enough to explain himself. It made Soda feel stupid, as if Darry didn’t trust him with the task of keeping their family together. He was the one keeping Pony from starving himself and he was the one comforting him through his relapses into grief-fueled terrors. Darry should have known that. Why wasn’t it enough for him?

Maybe this was just what trust looked like. Real trust, not the kind that played out on their boxy television screen between two actors in black and white. No matter how many times Darry wandered off, leaving them stuck in the darkness with nowhere to go, it was because he expected Soda to know that he was only off searching for the light switch. He’d come back every time, so long as Soda trusted him.

And he did. He trusted his big brother to get them out of this. It just got a little hard to see sometimes, was all. It scared him, knowing Darry was out in the same world that took Ma and Dad from them, just as vulnerable to leaving and never coming back. Never saying goodbye.

Pony was taking everything Soda had to give. He was still reeling, but Soda was too. He wanted to stay by Pony’s side forever, shield him from any more atrocities like the one they suffered only days ago. It robbed Soda of energy to get through his day. Darry was always gone in the middle of the day, so Soda made lunch.

He wanted to go back to their bedroom—theirs now, that was the new way of describing it—but his feet refused that direction. So he retreated outside.

Nothing was out there for him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in their backyard by himself, or even how often it saw people on their lonesome. Soda and Pony used to climb up the one oak tree that only grew pathetic leaves in the spring and shed them early. Pony had broken his arm trying to get down, one wrong step on a particularly weak branch and he’d tumbled all the way back to Earth. The hard dirt didn’t help him none, and neither did Soda’s howling laughter before he knew Pony was trying not to cry.

Dad always barbecued on the Fourth. The entire gang hauled ass over to the Curtis house for their annual Fourth of July football match, where the winner was usually decided by whoever got Darry on their team, even when Dad brushed the dust off his muscles and hopped in. Johnny loved watching more than getting knocked around by guys bigger than him, so he hung around with Two-Bit’s sister Brenda, and when Pony needed to catch his breath he would go and join them for a bit before running right back into the fray. Ma and Mrs. Matthews cheered from the sidelines, iced lemonades clinking in their hands, goading the boys into throwing to the wrong teammate because in the heat of the moment, who wouldn’t listen to a mother?

Soda wondered if they would ever get those moments back, or if that train had picked them up and brought them all the way to the other side with Ma and Dad.

“Soda!”

Soda turned, startled. Darry’s voice had been foreign recently, but apparently not from lack of use. A strong undercurrent of command brought Soda to his feet, but he had to drag himself back inside.

“Christ, Sodapop, stand up straight,” Darry told him. Soda didn’t understand that one, why it was a problem. “And fix your hair, it looks like you got birds living in it.”

He was staring, he knew he was and he knew he shouldn’t have been, but he just didn’t understand what Darry wanted from him or why he wanted it.

“Now, dammit,” he barked, slamming the countertop with a closed fist.

Soda finally did flinch this time. He wanted to cry again, to curl up in a ball and close his eyes and not have to open them for a good long while, but Darry needed him to stand up straight and fix his hair, so he fled to the bathroom to listen to his brother.

Ponyboy was sitting up in the bed when Soda came in for a new shirt. He hadn’t noticed that he’d already worn the one he had on to sleep the night before and it was all wrinkled now. When he shut the door behind him, Pony whipped around with narrowed, bloodshot eyes, but settled again when he saw who it was.

It wasn’t right, Soda thought. He shouldn’t have been ready to glare at Darry that way, but Soda couldn’t articulate why just yet. He was still waiting on those answers himself.

“He’s gone crazy, Soda, I swear.” Don’t, don’t swear on that. He’s your brother, Pony, don’t swear. “When’s the last time you saw him stand still for two seconds? If you’ve seen him at all.”

Soda wasn’t aware Pony had come out of their room for long enough to notice that. He rifled through their drawers of more unfolded clothes. If it smelled okay, he pulled it out for examination. “Dunno, Ponykid.”

Pony sounded like a real kid when his tone tilted and shrank. “I miss Ma. I miss her and Dad.” He turned hard again quick. It reminded Soda of the way Darry had built wall after wall in the span of seconds that night, one for every time he failed to contain his runaway grief. “It’s like Darry hasn’t even noticed they’re gone.”

Soda whirled, though not out of fury. That word Pony used struck him as dangerous, too loaded to speak aloud. Darry wasn’t there to defend himself, and although Soda didn’t think he would have had he been given the chance, Soda knew he needed to do it for him. Darry could have left them the very same night. He had opportunities waiting to take him in and lift him towards someplace better, but every day he came back to their broken life in their shaking house.

“Naw, baby, don’t say that. He’s trying, I think.” Why did he sound so unsure? Darry was their brother. He had no one else in his corner; speaking up for him was the very least Soda could do. He tried again, stronger. “He’s trying awful hard. We just don’t see it.”

“You don’t even know that. What if he’s making plans to shove us in a boys’ home?” Pony scowled.

Anger was a secondary emotion, Soda suddenly remembered. He had learned it in an English class a year ago. It came only because of some emotion felt first, like fear that you were going to get sent away because you weren’t wanted. Mrs. Goldstein was a real good teacher and that had stuck with him for some reason. Maybe this was why.

“Sorry, Pony, but I think we’re stuck with him,” Soda said, trying for a smile as he handed him a new shirt. If it fell flat, he didn’t dwell. “I know it’s hard, but we gotta trust him. He’ll get us out of this, baby, I promise.”

Pony’s fire died down some. He looked younger than ever with his hair a tangled mess and his eyes so openly hurt. “You sure?” he asked softly.

Soda threw an arm around Pony’s neck and brought him close to guarantee he was heard loud and clear. “‘Course I’m sure. That’s our Superman, right?”

For the first time since, a fragile smile cracked through to Pony’s face and he put his head down on Soda’s shoulder.

“Right.”

i’ve been WAITINGGG for someone to ask me this bc i had the thought in my head but i couldn’t figure out how i wanted to go abt it, yall really clutch up for me when i need prompts🙏🙏

and if i see ANYY one of u mentioning the inconsistencies with time it’s on SIGHT. i wrote this in one sitting alr so i don’t wanna hear it✋

tyyy for reading all that tho ily guys🫶

[midnight-talescape]

𝒦𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝑜𝓇 𝒦𝒾𝓁𝓁 (𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒱𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇)

Kinktober Day 31: Gangbang

This is starting to become a common reoccurrence.

No I don’t have favorites.

Might draw cute comic of this later after I ignore all the smut.

Anyway I’M FREEEEEEE

Warning: inappropriate use of stand, public oral, very non con, gamgbang, probably a million other thing, yandere, very very non con, ooc, etc etc you get the point not for kid

Genre: filthy filthy smut

Word Count: something kish

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You did a big stretch as you stepped out of the train. Your entire body felt like it was aching, (which was to be expected after a 10 hour ride) but your eyes was filled with excitement as you felt the wind blow through your hair.

This is where your new life start, although you can’t say you weren’t scared of the prospect of being alone in a new town…

But hey you gotta start somewhere right?

You hum a happy tune, before quickly grabbing your luggage and heading towards the place you will be staying at for the time being.

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As you cross the street, you suddenly felt a strong grip on your wrist. Before you can react the hand pulled you back quickly, just in time to avoid being hit by a car speeding through the road.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you whirl around to thank whoever just saved you from what was probably a very painful hospital visit.

The man stood who before you was tall, taller than most man you have seen in your life. His expression was stoic as he stared ahead of you, seemingly more interested in something else.

Your body was still shaking from the adrenaline as you thanks him for pulling you out of the way of the car. Or at least you think it was him, since there was no one else who could have pulled you back.

He finally look down at you, his lips twitched, as if wanting to say something. But in the end he didn’t, only moving his hat a bit lower, covering his eyes from you before speaking,

“You should watch where you’re going.”

His voice was cold, but there’s a hint of something else in it. Almost as if he was holding back from saying more to you.

Not noticing his internal conflict you nodded your head, apologizing again before continuing on your way. Your wrist still tingling as though someone was still holding onto them.

You shook your head at the thought.

Thats absurd.

Theres no one around you.

But as you walked, you couldn't help but feel like you were being watched. Every few seconds, you would turn your head to look behind you, but there was nothing there.

You decided to put it out of your mind for now and focus on the task at hand. You had a lot to do in order to get settled into your new home.

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Jotaro watched as you continued on your way, his eyes narrowing as he felt Star Platinum's desire to follow after you. He could sense his Stand's need to go after you, the way he pulled at him, wanting to stay close to you.

“Star Platinum, let’s go.”

He turn and start walking in the opposite direction, ignoring the way Star Platinum protest, the way he fought against him.

Trying to control Star Platinum was something he wasn't use to. He had always followed his order without hesitation, so the way he was acting was strange to say the least.

“Ora ora…”

Star Platinum turn to look at you one last time, his eyes filled with disappointment before disappearing reluctantly.

He couldn’t understand this feeling.

Couldn’t understand why he felt this intense desire to pull you into his arm, to protect you and have you never leave his sight.

But it doesn’t matter.

He will see you again.

He’s sure of it.

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You stood still as you felt yourself being wrapped in a warm hug. You couldn’t really see what or who was hugging you, but it has become an oddly common and comforting experience for you.

In the several weeks since you have come to Morioh, you had gotten use to the many ghost who apparently just reside in this town, and if you had to be honest you quite enjoy their presence.

After a few minutes you let out a soft sigh and tapped his arm lightly (or what you assume is his arm) “Hey, I have to go now. I will come back later okay?”

Magician's Red stayed silent at your word and for a moment, he seemed to consider not letting you go. His grip tightening ever so slightly as his warmth seep into you.

But then he exhaled softly, dipping his head down and touching your forehead with his beak gently. Almost as if he was giving you a kiss, before finally releasing you.

You let out a soft giggle as you felt the kiss, smiling brightly in his direction, before waving a quick good bye and heading toward college again.

He stood silently as he watch you left, he could still see your warm smile in his mind and it almost made him want to pull you back into his arms again.

Seeing the look on his face and sensing his thought, Avdol walked out of the shadow. Gently patting his shoulders, as if trying to calm him down.

He have already received news from Jotaro about you. You seem to unknowingly attract Stand who comes near you and as of right now they have decided to not do anything about it. Since you seem to be unaware of your power in the first place and it’s hasn’t really cause any harm.

Of course if he had to point out a problem it will be…

Avdol sigh heavily as he looked at Magician Red, the way he stared after you, his body language spoke volume of his feelings and protective instincts for you.

“Let’s go…”

Magician Red was reluctant to leave, but he obeyed Avdol’s words, disappearing into the air.

He knew Avdol was right, there was no point in lingering. But he couldn’t forget the way you fit so perfectly in his arms, or the way you smile at him.

He will be counting down the seconds till he see you again.

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You mindlessly squeeze the invisible tentacle in your hand as you focus on the lecture. As you start to write down your note, you scratch the tendril lightly only to look up when you heard a muffled groan.

“Are you okay, Professor Kakyoin?” Your voice was filled with concern as you look up at him, your hand still unconsciously squeezing tighter around the tentacle as you saw the flushed look on his face,

Kakyoin blinks, his face still flush as he look down at you with a awkward smile. “Yes, I'm fine (Y/N). Just thinking about something.”

He watch as Hierophant Green continue to coil around your limb, a sigh escaped his lip as he discreetly tried to will Hierophant Green away from you. But the Stand seem completely unresponsive, instead moving even closer to you.

You nodded your head at his answer, not even questioning anything as you felt Hierophant Green’s tendrils snaking up your arms and legs. His whole body pressed against your back nestling into the crook of your neck and letting out a please sound at your proximity.

It was clear that the Stand wanted nothing more than to wrap himself around you completely, to pull you into his embrace until there was no space left between the two of you, to wrap around you completely, to hide you from the eyes of others.

Kakyoin sigh internally at the sight, this was not good. He had a feeling Hierophant Green wasn't going to let you go anytime soon.

Maybe he should talk to Jotaro about it after class. He'll know what to do.

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“I don’t know what to do.”

You sat quietly in the corner of the office as you watch Professor Kujo and Professor Kakyoin having a rapid conversation.

“Am I in trouble?” You asked quietly, your body curled up on the chair and Hierophant Green still wrapped tightly around you,

Jotaro and Kakyoin stop talking immediately when they hear your voice, they exchange a glance before turning to you, their eyes twitching as they see Hierophant Green and Star Platinum both still trying to pull you towards them respectively.

"No, (Y/N). You're not in trouble," Jotaro said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. "We just wanted to have a chat with you."

Kakyoin nods in agreement, offering you a small smile. "Yes, we just wanted to check in on you, see how you're settling in."

Hierophant Green tightened his grip on you at Kakyoin’s word, as if scared that you would be taken away, practically hiding you from view.

Star Platinum let out a angry “Ora!” before yanking at Hierophant Green's tentacles, trying to pry you free and pull you into his arm instead.

The tension in the room was palpable, the two Stands glaring at each other, each refusing to back down.

Sensing the tension in the air, your hand automatically finding Star Platinum’s hand without much effort.

“Be good.”

Your voice lowered to a whisper as you gently caressed (?) his hand in a comforting motion.

“Both of you.” You added quickly when you felt the tentacle tightening around your arms, your other hand softly stroking the tentacle,

Star Platinum immediately calms down at your touch, his anger dissipating in an instant. He hold your hand gently in his far bigger hand, his eyes closing in contentment as you comfort him. The sensation of your hand in his sending shivers down his spine.

Hierophant Green, on the other hand, continues to hide his face in the crook of your neck, his breath tickling your skin.

Jotaro and Kakyoin exchange a glance, both of them raising their eyebrows at the sight. They could see the way the two Stands reacted to your touch, the way they calmed and became more affectionate.

It was clear that you had some sort of effect on Stands, a power that they couldn't quite understand.

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“Who’s my favorite strange ghost, in all of Morioh? It’s you, the prettiest kitty cat of them all!”

No you was not possessed and no you’re not crazy.

You have recently figured out that theres a cat like ghost around this cafe and have been coming here for lunch ever since.

Granted the cat is taller then you and have like a 6 pack abs, but it’s act like a cat and have cat ears.

So it’s a cat, clearly.

And who can say no to a giant cat?

Not you.

“I love you, I love you, I love you soooo much.” You said giggling as you felt Killer Queen the soft rumble in his throat as he purr loudly, his ears twitching lightly,

Thank god no one was here to see you.

Killer Queen let out another low, rumbling purr as you gently stroke his ears. His eyes closing in pleasure as you babble your affections to him.

"Mrrrp."

Even if you couldn't see him, he knew you could feel his presence. He leans in closer, his face nearly touching yours as he gazes into your eyes. He silently ask for more love, more affection, more of your undivided attention.

The way you say "I love you" to him over and over in that sweet, gentle voice of yours, almost made him wants to take you away from your life and keep you for himself.

He’s sure Kira won’t mind, he had enough money to keep you happy and he will keep you safe.

Just you and him.

Forever

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You was walking back to college when you heard a scream from above you. You look up and your eyes widened as you saw the flower pot hurtling toward you.

Fuck!

Your body froze and you couldn’t move. The world seem to slow down and all you could do was close your eyes as you waited for impact.

Suddenly you felt a jerking in time, and the next thing you know the World was holding you tightly against his chest, his arms wrapped around you protectively. He could feel your body shaking, the way your heart beats rapidly against his chest as you star dumbfounded at the flower pot that’s now shattered against the ground where you was previously standing.

"Muda…"

He whisper lowly as if to comfort you, to assure you that you’re safe in his arm. His grip on you was tight, refusing to let you leave his embrace until you calm down.

“T-thank you…”

I

You managed to say, your body still shaking but calming down slightly. You don’t even want to think about what could have happened if he didn’t move you out of the way in time.

They really are your guardian angel.

He hummed softly in response at your thanks, his hand coming up to stroke your hair.

"Muda..."

He wanted to keep you safe, keep you close. He didn't want anything bad happening to you ever again.

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It was late, and you were exhausted. You laid your head down on the table, your mind still buzzing with numbers and letters that no longer made sense. You felt so tired, but sleep eluded you.

"Mmm... let me fucking die, this sucks..." You grumbled. Your eyelids felt heavy, but your mind was still racing with homework and assignments.

Suddenly, the sound of raindrops pattering against the window could be heard. Weather Report float outside your window, his form blurred by the rain. He could sense your exhaustion, how tired you were.

He can help you sleep.

He focused his power, letting the rain become a soothing lullaby. The scent of petrichor soon filled the air and you felt your eyelids growing heavier.

Sleep...

Your eyes flutter close, and soon, you was fast asleep. Weather Report watched over you, before floating into the room and carefully wrap his arm around you. Pulling you against his chest he carried you to your bed and tuck you into your bed.

Good night, little raindrop…

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The marks left by Hierophant Green on your arms and legs has left you with a troubled expression on your face. The clingy Stand had been leaving more and more bruise like mark on you, and they were getting harder to hide.

With a sigh you sat on the bench, trying to come up with a solution to your problem.

Suddenly, you feel a hand grab your arm, pulling you closer. You gasp as you felt a warm, wet tongue licking your skin, slowly licking away at the marks Hierophant Green left.

“W-what?” Your eyes widen in surprise before you try to pull your arm back, but you couldn’t.

Instead you was pulled into someone’s arm, his breath warm as he continues to lick your skin. His eyes focused solely on healing you, his tongue moving methodically across the marks Hierophant Green left behind.

In your bewilderment he pulls you closer, as if trying to get a better angle to lick you. He nuzzles into your neck, his nose pressed against your skin as he breathes in your scent.

His hands move to your other arm, gripping it tightly as he starts to lick those marks too. He seems determined to heal every single one, to erase any trace of another's touch on your skin.

You can feel his muscles tense beneath your skin, his body trembling with restraint as he tries to control his urges.

“W-wait… stop…” you cried out, your skin flushing as you felt him letting go of your arm only to move onto your legs,

Crazy Diamond ignored your protests, gripping your legs firmly and pulling them apart so he could get better access to your body.

You can feel his tongue dragging across your leg, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. He seems to be taking his time, savoring every moment as he heals you.

He can't bear the thought of anyone else touching you.

The metal on his face press againstyour inner thigh. His tongue flicks out, licking the sensitive skin there, making you gasp.

“D-don’t lick there…” you wailed out, your body shaking as you felt the hot breath on your clothed pussy, “…let me go…”

Crazy Diamond pauses for a moment, his hot breath still brushing against your inner thighs. He looked up at you, his eyes swirling with confusion.

He doesn’t understand why you’re trying to push him away. Why you want him to stop. He’s just trying to remove the mark on your body.

He dragged his tongue along the edge of your panties. You can feel the fabric dampen, his hands holding you in place as he presses his tongue against your clothed pussy.

He doesn't notice that his grip is starting to bruise your skin, that his possessiveness is bordering on dangerous territory. All he cares about is keeping you safe, keeping you his.

You squirm as the sensation of his tongue sent waves of unfamiliar pleasure through your body. You couldn’t see him, only the sensation of his tongue sliding across your skin and the inability to get away.

He hummed against your skin, using his thumbs to push your panties aside and exposing your glistening folds to the cool air. He wasted no time in pressing his tongue against your sensitive flesh, licking and delving into your wet pussy.

He could feel your hands pushing at his head, trying to push him away, but he didn't stop.

He didn't stop until he felt you cumming, your nectar flooding his mouth. Only then did he pull away, looking up at you with confusion in his eyes.

He didn’t understand why you were crying, all he wanted was to heal you, to remove the mark on you. He reached up to wipe away your tears, his touch gentle as he pulled you against his chest.

“Dura dura…”

He just want you to only have him.

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You stood up and get ready to leave the church, your legs still shaky from what happened merely hours ago.

You was silent as you remembered what the priest said.

It was okay at first, just a few invisible being in your life. Invisible friends that you can talk to, people in your life do you won’t be so lonely in a nee town.

You hadn’t expected them to… to do whatever the fuck just happened.

Maybe it’s safer to be unable to interact with them.

Your eyes suddenly widened when you felt yourself pulled into a closet, a hand on your waist and the familiar feeling of something invisible holding onto you.

He pressed you against the wall, his free hand moving to grip your chin, forcing you to look up so he can see your eyes.

He knew what had happened with Crazy Diamond, he had heard it all. The way he touched you, the way he made you cum. It made him angry, jealous, violent.

How dare some other stand touch what was his.

"Don't worry, I'll make you feel good. Better than any of those other stands could."

He didn't give you a chance to respond, to react at hearing him speak, his hands already working on removing your clothes. He was determined to have you, consequences be damned.

He lean down and capture your lips in a bruising kiss, forcing your mouth open as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

As you choked on his long tongue, his hands moved to your skirt, yanking them down along with your underwear. He kicked your legs apart, his fingers immediately seeking out your pussy.

Without warning, two fingers forced their way into your tight hole causing you to cry out at the sudden intrusion. You can feel every ridge and callous on his fingers, the metal on his knuckle scrapping your wall as he stretch you painfully open.

Hearing your pained whimper he finally broke the kiss, his breath hot as he growled into your ears, "Mine," his eyes wild, his voice low and possessive. "All fucking mine."

He didn’t care about your comfort, only his desperate need to claim you as his own. As he finger you harder, the only thing you can hear was the wet squelching that echo in the small closet, mixed with your cries.

"Fuck, your little cunt feels so good wrapped around my fingers. I bet it'll feel even better around my cock." He groaned out, before pulling his fingers out with a wet pop,

He lined himself up at your cunt, the head of his cock nudging against your abused cunt. With one hard thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, splitting you open on his thick cock.

You scream, your hands scrabbling at his back as he immediately started to move, not giving you time to adjust to his cock.

Each thrust jolted your body, your breast bouncing with the force of his movements. Pain was mixed with pleasure, your body torn between crying and moaning.

"Take it, fucking take it," he snarled against your skin, "This is what happens when you let other stands touch you. This is your punishment."

Your cries of pain and pleasure filled the small space, bouncing off the walls and mixing with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin. White Snake didn't care if anyone heard, all he cared about was making sure you never forget you belong to him.

You were lost in a haze of pleasure, your mind blanking as he fucks you senseless. You cried out as your orgasm crashed over you, your pussy clenching and fluttering around his cock.

Tears stream down your face, your lip trembling with the intensity of it all.

You feel like you're going to break.

"Please, please..." you sob, your hands scrabbling weakly at his arms. "Please, it hurts..."

He ignores your pleas, picking up the pace, fucking you through your orgasm and straight into another.

"Look at you, cumming so hard on my cock. You were made for this, made to be fucked and used."

With a final, brutal thrust, White Snake buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself in your tender cunt. You could feel his seed painting your insides as it filled up your womb.

But he didn't stop, didn't pull out. He kept fucking you, using your body like a cocksleeve, fucking his cum deeper and deeper into your womb.

You were lost, drowning in pleasure, your mind breaking. You could only hold on as he used you to his heart’s content.

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You opened your eyes weakly, your body feeling like it had been through utter hell. Your pussy was raw and aching, the pain radiating through your core.

As you looked around, blinking away the haze of exhaustion, you saw a strange white humanoid with spikes and clouds surrounding it looming over you.

You tried to speak, to ask who he was and where you were, but all that came out was a pained whine as you felt something warm pouring into your already abused cunt.

Glancing down, you saw Hierophant Green's tentacle spreading your swollen pussy apart, allowing Weather Forecast to pour water into your pussy, washing away the remnants of White Snake's cum lodge deep inside you.

Around you, the other stands were gathered, their postures tense and angry. They didn’t speak, but their intentions were clear - they felt anger towards White Snake for touching you first, but that didn't stop them from wanting to claim you themselves.

“W-what? Who are you guys—“ your question was stopped short and a muffled wail escaped you,

The World loomed over you, his muscular form casting a shadow across your face. His hand pressed against your stomach, causing a gush of water and cum to pour out of your pussy. His presence was oppressive, the air around him heavy and suffocating.

Killer Queen stepped forward, his imposing figure moving with a predatory grace. He leaned down, sniffing at your neck, inhaling your scent. His large hand came up to grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

Star Platinum moved closer on your other side, his presence like a physical weight. He ran a hand down your side, his touch almost gentle compared to the others.

Magician Red watched from the back, his bird-like head tilting as he observed the scene unfold. The bulge in hid pant belying his serious nature.

Weather Forecast continued to pour water into your pussy, the liquid sloshing out around Hierophant Green's tentacle. The wet squelching sounds filled the room, obscenely loud.

After a few more round of that, you can only let out soft cries as you try to curl up. Your legs unable to close as they force it open again, your eyes wet with tears as you look up at them wondering if it was finally over.

But to your dismay Killer Queen grabbed your legs, forcing them further apart as he moved between them. He lined up his cock, rubbing the tip against your sore entrance.

Your body arched as he pushed inside his ribbed cock scrapping against your walls. Hierophant Green’s tentacle thrusting in tandem with his cock, making you feel fuller then you ever thought possible.

Your hands clawed at the sheet in futile, your body shining with sweat as you’re force to take in their cock. You instinctively let out a scream when you felt them flipped you over, Magician Red’s cock pressing against your ass. His cock felt like a burning rod against your tender flesh, and you could swear you saw flame surrounding it in your peripheral vision.

But very soon it was no longer your concern when you’re head was forced up and before you can react Star Platinum was shoving his cock down your throat.

You let out a whimper as you were use from all side. It was painful, but the sensation of having so many of your most sensitive part use so brutally was shattering your mind. You could barely keep track of who’s using where and how long it continued.

One second you were getting fuck on both side by Killer Queen and Magician Red, the next you were getting eaten out until you were a sobbing mess by Weather Forecast.

The most fucked up part about this?

You could sense their thought, their feelings and their desire.

They didn’t want to hurt you.

They just want to claim you until you were filled with nothing but their essence, until you can no longer leave them and can only stay beside them as they take care of you.

It was cruel.

It was violent.

It was their sick twisted for of love.

You couldn’t escape even if you wanted to.

As you felt another load of cum shot into your womb, your body a mess of cum, bruises, and bite mark, it was finally over.

You let out a weak tremble as they pulled out of you. You couldn’t tell who picked you up and hold you against their chest. Their hand now gentle as they cleaned up your abused body, as though they weren’t the one who just gangbang you for god know how long.

Your eyes felt too heavy to open, you let out a soft little sigh when you was carefully placed onto your bed and they soon all crowded around you trying to get as close to you as possible before quieting down.

As you drifted off into a deep sleep you heard them whispering to you.

Their voice filled with love, obsession, and desperation.

Please love us

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Stand Name: Kiss or Kill

Stand Appearance: None

Ability: Obsessive Attraction

Kiss or Kill is a psychological Stand ability that deeply affects the minds of other Stand around the user. When activated, it causes any Stand who perceives the user to experience intense, uncontrollable attraction toward them. This infatuation starts off harmless, with the affected individuals simply drawn to the user, but it rapidly escalates into a form of dangerous obsession.

Those under Kiss or Kill’s influence become fiercely possessive, even violently protective, willing to do anything to keep the user safe or close to them. As the obsession grows, affected individuals may turn against friends or allies, viewing them as rivals. In the most extreme cases, they will hurt the user in order to keep them safe with them.

The obsession are activated passively with no way for the user to stop or control.

[wrathofrats]

Seeing Blind (you’re too good to be all mine)

Chapter 5. Mature, 2.4k. Read under cut or on Ao3

(Part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

As always thank you to @divine-misfortune for writing this with me <3

Rain whipped around. Confused to see Dew running up to him from the side field, brushing debris off of his overalls. They had never spoken before, at least not directly like this. Small quips and comments when he finds himself at Swiss’ side that sound like they’re meant to be digs directed at him despite the fact Dew barely acknowledged his presence.

“I’m sorry?”

“I think we should have a talk“

It’s Rain’s turn to barely sleep in Swiss’ arms. His head swimming with a tirade of thought. Was he not good enough? Did he do something wrong? Go too fast? Maybe Swiss just didn’t want him in the same way he did?

He could feel how hard he was against his back for a good portion of the night. Rationally, most of that couldn’t possibly be true. Why would Swiss assume he wasn’t ready for it? None of it made sense and it left a strange, conflicted feeling in him. Not quite dejected but certainly confused.

At least he could finally sleep comfortably beside him, in a bed, like real people who like each other do.

When the sun threatens to crest the horizon, Swiss is shifting behind him. Moving carefully. Thoughtfully trying not to jostle Rain awake, no reason for him to have to adhere to the ungodly early schedule Swiss kept. It’s a hopeless effort but it was the thought that counted. Rain stirred as the arm beneath his head began to retreat, making a soft sound he could only describe as a chirp. His eyes fight to open, drooping despite himself, as Swiss slipped from the cozy little cocoon they’d made.

“Shh tadpole…Go back to sleep”

Cute. Rain looked beyond adorable and Swiss suddenly understood the meaning of ‘cuteness aggression’. The messy hair and blush coloring his cheeks the loveliest shade of pink was entirely unfair, but the way he managed to bat those pretty eyelashes was playing dirty.

“Just’a couple more minutes Swiss, ‘lease” Rain mumbled his way right into a yawn, tugging at Swiss’ shirt like he might just drag him back into bed like this.

“I’ve gotta go, I can’t be late. But come see me on my break, ‘kay?”

Swiss smoothed the hair from his forehead, dipping down to kiss the little crease between his brows before Rain’s head dropped back to the pillow with a small whine that he gives up on committing to when the comforters pulled back over him. Hard not to snuggle back in, harder not to bury his face in the other pillow to inhale the comfortable lingering scent like he might just pretend Swiss was still beside him.

Didn’t stop him from pouting though.

Leaving Rain was a real test of his will but dutifully Swiss dragged himself away. It was safer for him to duck out as early as this, less of a chance of being caught by the wrong person. He woefully stuffed his feet back into his muddy boots abandoned by the front door and trudged outside towards his truck.

He prayed it was too early for anyone else to be lurking about, and if it had to be anyone, let it be Mountain.

But God had a sense of humor, apparently.

Dew and cirrus were waiting for him with wolfish grins near the tractor, immediately trying to prod him for answers.

"Well well well, smooth talked your way right into his bed huh?" Dew laughed

"Didn't take him for easy.” Cirrus folds her arms looking over his sorry, disheveled state.

"So how was he? Did he even know what he was doing? Was it embarrassingly bad? That why you're doing the walk of shame before the suns even up?" Dew gasped at the promise of scandal, hanging off of Cirrus’ arm with a smirk like he was pleased with himself.

Swiss couldn’t tell if he wanted them to die or if he'd like a stampede of cattle to take him out then and there. Honestly, didn't know if they even deserved a response. Probably shouldn’t. All their senseless prodding, he shouldn’t dignify it but God Dew was too fucking annoying to ignore at times.

“We didn’t do anything” Swiss pushed past them to make the hike back to his truck so he could at least change. Boss might give him weird looks for showing up in yesterday's wrinkled clothes.

“Oh, sure. Totally. So, tell me, he invites you in and you spend the night doing what exactly? A kiss on the cheek before turning off the lights at nine on the dot so you can sleep on opposite sides of the bed with both hands above the covers?” Dew questions incredulously, with an oddly specific example. “You’re the worst liar I’ve ever fucking met, Swiss!”

Swiss winced at the volume of his voice, nervously eyeing the farmhouse standing silently as he gestured aggressively for him to shut the fuck up. Rain would be mortified if he knew the others were talking about him in this fashion.

“Love that Swiss thinks he can lie his way out of shit like this, as if you of all people don’t know what he looks like after a long night.” Cirrus snickers behind her hand and Dew suddenly looks appalled.

“Oh my fucking god it was one time!”

“It was a couple times actually-“

Like a thief in the night, Swiss uses their endless bickering as an excuse to slip away from their interrogation. He climbed into the backseat of his truck and rummaged under the passenger seat - working a job like this, he learned early on to keep a change of clothes on hand. It was awkward to say the least. He was not a dainty man and the back of his truck was far from spacious but he managed to climb out only having smashed his elbow into the window twice. Seemingly just in time. The crunch of gravel and the sharp squeaks of a poor suspension announced their arrival before the truck branded with an all too familiar logo rounded the bend.

His head snapped around alarmingly fast, met with mischievous grins from the both of them. He bristled. “Not a fucking word or I’m telling him to drug test you two.” Swiss hissed, both warning and threatening. Dew made a face, opening his mouth to retort but Cirrus was faster. Sticking out her tongue in his direction before grabbing him by the arm and leading him away to where they would pretend to work for the next two hours.

As they left him standing beside his truck, Swiss watched Rain’s father get out of the truck with clearly stiffened limbs. His throat felt tight as he looked his way, fearing that just maybe he knew but the man just regarded him with a curt nod and a gruff good morning, then headed inside.

Swiss wanted to close his head in the door of his truck, multiple times.

It was going to be a long fucking day.

Rain slipped out the back door an hour or so after lunch. Wearing exhaustion and semi untamed curls, a brand of disheveled he’d never sported before. He was off the schedule they’d taken to over the last few weeks. Swiss’ lunch break was a little before two, and it was currently well past. Swiss could sigh and huff all he liked about him sleeping in and shirking his fruit picking responsibilities, as well as what he’d woefully described as ‘kiss withdrawls’, but Rain truly couldn’t be faulted for sleeping in. His sheets smelled like warm tobacco and aftershave, a little bit like hay and whatever it was truly encompassed Swiss. It was hard for rain to leave in the morning, silently hoping it would linger until he got back that night.

“Rain! I’ve been looking for you!”

Rain whipped around. Confused to see Dew running up to him from the side field, brushing debris off of his overalls. They had never spoken before, at least not directly like this. Small quips and comments when he finds himself at Swiss’ side that sound like they’re meant to be digs directed at him despite the fact Dew barely acknowledged his presence.

“I’m sorry?”

“I think we should have a talk, can you come here for a minute?” Dew kicked some rocks and pursed his lips at rain who looked more than confused. He looked around for Swiss, to see if this was one of his shenanigans or could at least save him from whatever was happening.

Dew knew their routine. Knew exactly how to intersect Rain’s path before he could go attach himself to Swiss like an overgrown leech. It was almost too easy for him to find and stop him. If Rain had any more confidence in himself he would’ve told Dew to leave him alone, return the same disdain Dew had regarded him with from the start, but he was alarmingly forward. Grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him with surprising ease towards the tractor for a bit more privacy. Less of a chance they’d be interrupted.

Dew, and the other workers by extension were far from fond of him. Swiss was the outlier. Rain knew fighting him on this would cause nothing but trouble.

“Where are you going by the way? Thought you didn’t have to do your small share of work till later.” Whatever over sweetness he’d greeted him with dropped from his tone, borderline sneering at him instead.

“Dad asked me to check on one of the cows, said she looked in bad shape this morning.” Rain readjusted the bag on his shoulder, eyes flitting towards the field with a silent prayer that Swiss might just happen to pop up. Save him from whatever he’d walked into.

“Bullshit,” Dew barely stopped himself from laughing at his lie. “He would’ve mentioned it to us, not you.” Dew crossed his arms, leaning on the tractor. Casually and subtly blocking off Rain’s easy exit back to the yard.

“Ok…Then what do you think I’m doing?” Rain scoffed and rolled his eyes. This was dumb, they both had better things to be doing.

“Considering that brown paper sack in your hands, and the little birdie that talks about you in the barn, I’d say you’re bringing Swiss a snack for his break” it’s the slight flick of his eyes that answers the silent accusation.

“I don’t see how what I do with my time is any of your business” Rain's voice was almost entirely confident, almost. The faintest waver under his incredulous stare. It was hard to hold steady when someone as intense as Dew was interrogating him like he was caught about to do something downright sinister.

“Well I just think it’s funny how much time you spend with him. All of your breaks, sneaking out to go to the bonfire, spending the night?” He practically hissed his last point. “Thought your dad didn’t like you spending too much time with people like us. Weird, huh?”

“I’m not like that, I’m not my father.” Rain felt almost guilty as dew continued to stare at him like he was disgusted. Had he really been that bad? He didn’t think he was that much of a priss before Swiss came around.

“Oh you aren’t? Rain, all you do is sit on your throne and occasionally feed the animals or pick fruit for daddy’s approval. I’ve heard what he’s said, what you’ve said.”

His face, with whatever increasingly anxious expression he’d been sporting, fell instantly. Comments from his father over the years rooted in overworked frustration when profits didn’t balance out costs, when equipment turned up broken, when the work wasn't done to his standards. Blindly throwing blame on his workers. And Rain, a teenager vying for his parent’s approval, stupidly echoed the sentiment more than once and turned his nose up at them and the work they did. Even went out of his way to avoid the lot of them at the behest of his father.

“Dew, I’m sorry…I never-“

“All I’m saying is don’t fuck around and break Swiss’ heart just because you’ve decided to enjoy the attention from the peasants” Dew spat. His tone growing increasingly more frustrated as the months or years of indignation began to finally bubble to the surface.

“That’s not-“ A finger is held up before he can begin to explain himself, effectively shutting him up before he could stammer any further.

“Save it princess, I don’t want to hear it! I’m warning you to stop fucking around with him - Swiss doesn’t deserve to be some passing fancy till you’re able to go back to that prestigious university of yours.”

Rain opened his mouth and quickly closed it when he couldn’t manage any sound. Dread filled his stomach and began clawing its way up his throat. Choking him.

Is that really what they all thought of him? Is that what Swiss thought all of this was?

“You’re a smart guy, yeah? You should be smart enough to know not to cross this clear line in the sand that you and your dad drew a long time ago. Go back to your fucking tower and stay there.”

And as quickly as his tirade began, it ended with Dew turning on his heel and storming off with his fists clenched at his sides. He’d said more than enough for Rain to get the message; none of them wanted anything to do with him, Swiss just didn’t know it yet. They all harbored a level of resentment Rain hadn’t quite comprehended apparently.

Rain didn’t walk after him. Stays rooted in place watching Dew stalk off towards the fields until the vague shape of him becomes blurry. Tears burned in his eyes. All he could do was shrink into himself and return to the house where he promptly shoved the paper bag to the bottom of the trash can. At least there, he could pretend he’d never made it to begin with.

Was he stupid? He felt like an idiot for ever thinking he could really have something as genuine as this.

Heat radiated within his chest and made itself known in the form of blotchy redness in his cheeks. He retreated to his room, bag dropped steps in front of his door in order to throw himself onto his bed like a teenage girl with a broken heart. They weren’t anything and yet it felt like his rib cage was caving in. Guilt, shame, and humiliation danced inside him. Mingled into a single sensation that made his throat painfully tight.

Rain hiccuped over a half sob, shoving both pillows off the bed and onto the floor. He didn’t need the reminder. With both pillows out of the way, he was met with the cotton candy blue shark he’d stuffed into hiding the night before. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and pulled the plush against himself. Childish comforts.

Dew was right, telling him the things he was too selfish to acknowledge. None of them wanted him around, and maybe Swiss didn’t really either. Did Swiss only humor him because he was the boss’ son? Placate ‘the princess’ to keep his job. Dew was right. He didn’t deserve Swiss.

[hotch33tos22]

Shigarakis “babysitter” / Pt2

Tomura shigaraki x reader

🌙Scenario/🌟smut coming soon)

pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4

Toga and Dabi glanced at each other, taking a notice in the weary and almost resigned look on your face. They were both slightly taken aback by your appearance, realizing just how exhausted and drained you truly looked.

"Damn..." Dabi muttered, looking at you with a mixture of concern and realization.

Toga's expression mirrored his, her playful smile replaced with sympathy.

"You look like you haven't slept in days," she observed quietly.

You chuckled at their reaction,

"yeah it so difficult when he wants me when he's up because he always fucking needs something"

Tomura continued to listen from his hiding spot, his annoyance somewhat subsided as he heard your explanation. He was starting to grasp just how much he had been relying on you and how much of a burden he had placed on you.

Dabi and Toga exchanged knowing looks, both quietly nodding in agreement at your words.

Dabi took a long drag from his cigarette before speaking.

"Yeah, that does sound like the boss," he begrudgingly admitted.

"But whatever, hopefully they find a new babysitter soon" you replied as you put your hands together praying "Pleaseplease"

Toga and Dabi both chuckled at your prayer to be relieved of your duties, appreciating your candidness.

Dabi, his smirk returning briefly, decided to add his own two cents.

"Oh, I'm sure AFO will find someone to take your place soon enough," he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "The boss might be a pain, but he's damn good at getting what he wants."

Tomura continued to listen, his hands clenched into fists, clearly not enjoying the implication that you could be easily replaced. He was a mix of annoyed and strangely possessive, not wanting you to be taken away from him.

Dabi and Toga were still chatting, unaware of the eavesdropper nearby.

Toga leaned back in her chair, a mischievous glint in her eye as she spoke.

"Yeah, the boss can be quite stubborn when he doesn't get what he wants," she said, a hint of playful mockery in her tone.

"He'd be better off with someone that can handle him" you say sheepishly. Dabi took another drag from his cigarette, a small smirk on his face.

"Ah, don't sell yourself short," he replied, exhaling smoke. "You've kept the boss in check pretty damn well so far."

Toga nodded in agreement, grinning at your comment.

"Yeah, the boss may seem like too much to handle, but you've done a pretty good job dealing with his mood swings."

"Only because l've adapted horribly" you cry clinging onto toga

Toga's smile widened at your gesture of clinging to her, and she gently patted your back in a comforting manner.

Dabi chuckled lightly at your admission, blowing more smoke from his cigarette.

"Hey, sometimes you gotta adapt to survive," he quipped. "And it looks like you've done a fine job of it so far."

Tomura watched silently from his hiding spot, his expression becoming more contemplative as he overheard your conversation with Dabi and Toga. He was taken aback by your vulnerability and the way you clutched onto Toga, not used to seeing such a side of you. He found it both strange and strangely intriguing, his thoughts racing with conflicting emotions.

"Oh toga please replace me" Toga giggled at your plea, finding your desperation amusing but also sympathetic.

"Aw, come on," she replied with a smirk,

"don't you think the boss would feel lost without his favorite babysitter?"

Dabi chuckled at your plea, finding it rather endearing.

"Hah! Yeah, I don't think the boss would be too happy about losing you just yet," he added, his smirk still in place.

"Hell no. He just asked me why I was annoyed and practically said he didn't give a shit!" You told them. Both Dabi and Toga looked slightly taken aback by your revelation. Dabi raised an eyebrow in surprise, his smirk faltering for a moment.

"He didn't give a damn, huh?"

Toga's playful expression shifted to one of mild concern, her smile replaced with a small frown. 'Wait, he actually said that to you?"

"Eh something like that, but whatever ..." you mumble in togas arm

Toga chuckled at your mumbling, finding you strangely endearing. She patted your head gently, offering a small comfort. Dabi exhaled a sigh, rolling his eyes at the news you've revealed.

"Typical boss mentality, eh? Never thinks about how his words or actions affect others."

"Well he is the great and powerful villain future ruler of this shitty world... " you say

Dabi let out a derisive snort at your sarcasm, a smirk forming on his face.

"Mmm, yeah, the 'great and powerful' dictator-to-be... Always so full of himself, huh?"

Toga giggled at Dabi's comment, her playful smile returning.

"Oh, yeah, can't forget about his big ambitions to rule the world," she added, her voice filled with mild mockery.

Tomura was listening intently from his hiding spot, his expression darkening with annoyance and frustration at Dabi's and Toga's sarcasm and mockery. He clenched his fists, feeling the rising tide of anger bubbling within him. He found himself struggling to hold himself back from reacting to their comments. As the conversation between Dabi, Toga, and yourself continued, Tomura's irritation only grew.

He tried his best to maintain his composure, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. He clenched his fists tighter, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts. On one hand, he wanted to confront you, Dabi, and Toga, to defend himself against their teasing. But on the other hand, he felt a sense of shame and embarrassment at the idea of being caught eavesdropping and revealing the depth of his feelings.

After quietly returning to his room, Tomura called out for you in a commanding tone, his voice echoing through the building.

"Hey! I need you in my room!" he called out, his voice brimming with authority and frustration.

You sigh in frustration

"that's my cue" you signaled to toga and dabi as you left to see the mighty shigaraki

Toga and Dabi watched as you left to answer Tomura's summons, seeing the mix of frustration and resignation on your face.

Toga let out a giggle, a smirk on her face.

"Good luck with the boss," she teased, clearly enjoying the show. Dabi chuckled, taking another drag from his cigarette.

"Better not keep him waiting too, or he might throw a tantrum," he added with a smirk.

You arrived I front of his door knocking slowly as you waited to be let in. After a few moments, you heard a brusque voice from behind the door.

"Come in."

Tomura's voice was taut and tinged with a tone of impatience, clearly not in the best of moods.

You went inside as you closed the door behind you

"you called for me sir?" You wuestionsd

Tomura was sitting on his bed, his expression dark and his arms crossed.

He glanced up at you as you entered the room, his eyes narrowing.

"Yeah, I did," he replied curtly, his voice cold. "Sit. We need to talk."

"U-um I think l'll just stand" you stutter out taking you by surprise

Tomura's eyebrows furrowed, his annoyance at your response evident. He was clearly expecting you to follow his command, yet here you were defying him. He let out a scoff, his eyes locking with yours.

"I said sit," he repeated, his voice even more stern and authoritative this time.

There was an edge to his tone, a warning sign that he wasn't in the mood for disobedience.

Not wanting him to get even madder you di as you were told.

Tomura watched as you hesitantly sat down, a small sense of satisfaction crossing his face as he saw you obeying his command. He leaned back against the wall, his eyes never leaving yours.

"That's better," he said, his voice still hard but slightly calmer now.

"Now tell me, why were you talking with Dabi and Toga earlier?"

Shit. He knew... fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck that's the only thing that repeated in your mind,

"nothing s-sir" you said quickly after

Tomura's eyes narrowed as he heard your response, clearly not buying it. He let out a scoff, his irritation rising again.

"Bullshit," he spat out, his tone sharp and accusing.

"I heard you talking, so don't try to lie to me."

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze locked onto you intently.

"What were you all saying? Don't hold anything back."

"Nothing" you awkwardly laughed as you moving away from him a little.

Tomura's irritation flared, and he noticed your attempt to move away from him. He leaned closer, his eyes darkening with annoyance.

"Tch. Don't play coy with me," he snarled.

"I know you were talking about me, so spill it. I want to know what you all said."

His tone was firm, and he was clearly determined to get the truth out of you.

"I said nothing." You replied to his eager self

Tomura's patience was wearing thin, and your repeated refusals to tell the truth only fueled his irritation further.

"Damn it, I know you're lying," he hissed, his voice taking on a dangerous edge.

"Don't make me ask again. What were you all talking about?"

He leaned closer still, his eyes burning into yours. His tone was no longer just demanding; now, it held a thinly veiled threat.

"Nothing." You repeat

Tomura's annoyance grew exponentially, and he clenched his fists tightly in trustration.

"God damn it," he cursed under his breath. "You're really testing my patience here."

He took a deep breath to regain his composure before leaning back slightly, his gaze still fixed on you.

"You're seriously going to make me force it out of you, aren't you?"

And with that you spilled "i-just about you..." you mumbled underneath your breath in anger looking away

Tomura cocked an eyebrow as you finally relented and admitted that you were talking about him. He let out a scoff, his lips curled into a smirk.

"That's more like it," he retorted, clearly satisfied with finally getting a truthful answer from you. "Took you long enough."

He leaned back against the wall again, his eyes fixed on your face.

"And what exactly did you tell Dabi and Toga about me?"

"That's you annoying." You told him straight forward

Tomura's eyebrows furrowed at your response, his annoyance increasing further. He had expected something more along the lines of criticism or praise but being told bluntly that he was annoying was clearly not to his liking.

"Annoying, huh?" he repeated, his voice taking on a cold tone. "You have some nerve calling me annoying when you're the one stuck babysitting me all the time."

"Don't worry I'm leaving soon." You reply with a smirk, “leaving soon” those words repeated in your head

Tomura's eyes widened slightly at your mention of leaving soon, surprise flickering across his features. He wasn't expecting you to drop such a bombshell so casually, and the idea of you leaving obviously threw him off.

He quickly composed himself, his expression hardening again.

"What do you mean, you're leaving soon?" he asked, his tone a mix of caution and irritation.

"I plant to ask AFO to replace me."

Tomura's eyes immediately narrowed at your declaration, the mention of you asking All For One to replace you clearly hitting a nerve.

"You think you can just ask him to replace you?" he retorted, his voice rising with frustration. "You think it's that easy?"

His jaw clenched, and he took a step closer to you, his eyes blazing with anger.

"You can't just leave. You're not going anywhere."

"Yes it is that easy the only reason I took this job was because he insisted." You mumbled

Tomura was taken aback by your revelation, his anger giving way to surprise. He took a moment to process your words, his expression growing darker.

"Wait...you only accepted this job because All For One insisted?" he repeated, his voice low and gruff. "And you never wanted this in the first place?..”

"If I knew you'd be like this then I wouldn't have taken it" you replied harshly

Tomura's expression darkened further, your harsh words clearly hitting a nerve.

He clenched his fists, his body tensing with frustration and annoyance.

"Oh, so it's my fault now, is it?" he retorted, his voice filled with barely restrained anger. "You're the one who agreed to be my goddamn babysitter. You knew what you were getting into."

"I never knew l'd get involved with a bratty person like you!"

Tomura's anger flared, his eyes narrowing with annoyance at your accusation. He stepped closer, his expression growing darker.

"Bratty? You're calling me bratty?" he repeated, his voice cold and sharp.

"You're the one who agreed to take on this job, knowing what I'm like. You didn't have to accept it, but you did. And now you're whining about it?” He scoffed

"Like I said I didn't know you were this demanding." You spat out as you stood up you weren’t going to take any of his bullshit anymore, he soon stood up after you.

Tomuras irritation growing stronger with each passing moment. He took A step closer to you, closing the distance between you both.

"Demanding?" he repeated, his voice laced with a hint of mockery. "You're the one who keeps defying me, ignoring my orders and treating me like a goddamn burden."

He clenched his fists tighter, his body tense with frustration. "You think I like being stuck with someone like you who can't even follow simple instructions?"

"That's exactly why l'm leaving since you don't like it"

Tomura's irritation flared even further as you stepped back from him, his expression growing darker. He took another step forward, his patience wearing thin.

"You're not leaving." his voice was firm and brooking no argument, his tone harsh and final. "You agreed to be my babysitter, and you're going to goddamn well finish the job."

"I don't take orders from you. And who says I'm not leaving?!" You shout.

Tomura's eyes widened at your outburst, your defiance and raised voice clearly taking him aback for a moment.

However, his shock quickly turned into anger, and he clenched his fists tightly, his irritation reaching an all-time high.

"God damn it," he growled through gritted teeth. "You really are infuriating. I'm the one who gives the orders around here, and you're damn well going to obey them!"

"no, you don't! You aren't my boss."

Tomura's eyes narrowed further, his irritation shifting into something more akin to a snarl. He closed the distance between you and him in one swift step, towering over you with sheer presence.

"What do you mean I'm not your boss?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble. "I'm the one you're supposed to be babysitting, remember? If I say you aren't leaving, you damn well aren't going anywhere."

"AFO is My BOSS not YOU!" You screamed at him he was getting deep in your head Tomura visibly flinched at your screamed statement. His eyes widened momentarily at the realization that you were drawing a distinction between him and All For One. He took a step back, his anger briefly giving way to surprise.

"Hmph. So that's what you think, huh?" he said, his voice growing cold. "You think I'm just some puppet of All For One? You think he's the one pulling the strings here?"

"I don't know about you but I only listen to him I couldn't care less about you" you spat out with anger , shit you fucked up.

Tomura's expression darkened rapidly, his previous surprise replaced by an intense, burning anger. He clenched his fists tightly, his entire body tensing with resentment.

"You..don't care about me, huh?" he repeated, his voice dripping with anger and frustration. "You think I'm just some disposable pawn, huh? Just some little puppet for All For One to control?"

"W-what?!" You exclaimed In confusion you didn’t mean what you said but were were fed up, you didn’t know what you were saying.

Tomura's angry expression momentarily gave way to confusion, his eyes narrowing slightly. He took a moment to process your exclamation, his irritation momentarily overshadowed by your bewildered reaction.

Pt3 here <3

(if you liked my work feel free to check out the rest on my page and follow <3!! Or click the #hotcheetos22 )

[ladytabletop]

LT Reads: The Wildsea RPG

We gotta talk about this game, y’all.

I’ve played and run a lot of this in the last year. It’s got such a unique setting. Here’s the basics.

Once upon a time, the Verdancy happened: an apocalypse of accelerated growth and acidic poison called crezzerine.

But that was then. This is now.

Now, ships with chainsaw prows and leviathan heart engines cut through waves of treetops. Their wakes disappear as the rapid growth repairs broken branches. Mutated wolves and foxes leap from limb to limb.

You build a character with three main elements: Bloodline, Origin, and Post.

Bloodline is what species you are. Maybe you’re a mothryn, recently emerged from your chrysalis. Maybe you’re an ektus, longing for desert sands. Maybe you’re a tzelicrae whose spiders have just finished sewing a new skin.

(Yeah, this is a weird game).

Origin is where you’re from. Did you grow up on one of the few solid landmasses in the trees? Were you preserved in amber for centuries and now have to contend with a foreign landscape? Did you grow up on the waves themselves, with a family on a fleet of ships?

Post is the sort of role you fill on a ship. Maybe you fight with guns. Maybe you brew strange concoctions that heal the soul. Maybe you carry the mail.

Each of these three elements is made up of aspects. Each aspect gives you a specific flavor, and each has a track associated with it. These tracks can be used for special abilities when specified, or they can be marked to designate injury done to your wildsailor.

Tracks in general are the way to measure progress, whether that be in journeys, in combat, or in projects.

You build your dice pool with Edges, Skills, and then any relevant aspects, resources, or environmental advantages you might have. The Firefly (GM) imposes cut if there are factors making the thing you’re trying to achieve more difficult. Your outcome is measured on a scale from triumph to conflict to failure. And doubles means a twist comes into play!

That’s to say nothing of ship-building!

I really cannot emphasize enough how fun and low-prep this game is. And guess what?

The basic rules are free.

There’s an expansion launching on Kickstarter soon for airships and submersibles.

Check it out!!

[louisetaylor]

TUA SEASON 4 REWRITE

because if you want something done right... *rolls eyes*

In the original single timeline, we got a wonderful season 4 of The Umbrella Academy. I'm here to remind you of your latent memories of the original season 4. Together we can restore it to its former glory. Like a club. We need a name. Call ourselves the Keepers or something similar.

Here's what I know:

Luther is putting work into his (admittedly rundown and condemned) house. It's growing more welcoming with every antique sconce and threadbare thrifted rug. Klaus lives with him, advising him on the finer points of exotic dancing. We see the family visiting. Claire knows where the snacks are. Luther picks up and tosses Lila's kids in the air, trying and failing to learn words in Punjabi. He struggles to move in new furniture, longing for his old strength back, his familiar hairy body.

Viktor owns a bar in Canada. He's proud of it, but despite bantering with the regulars, he isn't close to anyone. He still wants to shout at Reginald (for everything) and at Allison (for everything else). Sometimes the patrons get too loud, and Viktor focuses on the sound of the radio playing in the background, wanting to shout at the loud talkers and knock them off their stools with the sound of his voice. He misses Harlan. He wonders about autism, and why he understood the boy so well.

Diego practices throwing knives in the back yard after the kids have gone to bed. Fed up with being a delivery driver, he briefly considers opening a party planning business, but Lila laughs her head off at the idea, saying he'd explode if she even bought a pinata from the wrong side of town or something. He runs alone at night, slows, stops, bangs his head against a telephone pole in frustration.

Lila spars with Diego in the basement, kendo one night, aikido the next...It vents their anger and relieves their boredom. She has an idea of opening a martial arts studio. When she pins Diego down, they're both visibly into it. She goes away to a book club that might not be a book club, wishing for a bigger world.

The kids aren't just pawns for the plot or for conflict. They're people who ask inconvenient questions. "Where did Mummy learn to fight?" They make up bedtime stories about their parents' pasts. Superhero stories which are eerily close to the truth.

Klaus lives with Luther, sober, germaphobic, plagued by nightmares, afraid of death and love and life because he's seen so very much of all of them. He cooks for Luther, which sometimes turns out well and sometimes not. "Well, it's not the same when you make it without hashish..." When the marigold crashes back into his life, he's angry, and yet he's elated to feel the power back in him, he knows he can't go back to being half dead and unfeeling, he needs to wear something silk and put on some eyeliner and be wild again, as he always really was.

Allison tries out for every commercial in town and spars with her daughter, who's turning out to be a stubborn opposing mirror of her mother. Claire spits uncomfortable truths at her mother like her too-strong influence on others, her lecturing them instead of listening to them, kicking at their weak points. She wonders who she is when she's not acting or rumoring people. Maybe one of these days she'll ask someone for help.

Number Five has been trying to remember his name. He's been working for the CIA because a man's gotta eat, but he clashes with his boss a little too much on account of his smart mouth. He can't help acting like a young man sometimes, because he never really got to be young, feel young, act young. He can't help trying to jump away sometimes. He feels trapped in one place, one time.

Ben just got out of prison. The season starts with him being taken back to Luther's place, being welcomed in by Klaus and offered some cookies that smell suspiciously of weed. He's annoyed by the running laughing visiting kids, but the house reminds him strangely of home. He'll curse Luther out, but Klaus gave him weed cookies, and the kids don't deserve to be scared or upset, do they? He's not a monster, after all.