#they weren’t lying when they said it’s terminal

[dooanuh]

2024 was the year i got into supernatural….. things haven’t been the same since

[wandanatsub]

Hugs and Body Heat

Agatha All Along Week - Day 4 - Hurt/Comfort

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You come home after a grueling day at work and need comfort. Agatha is happy to provide. Honorable mentions to Rio who cooks dinner.

Tags: fluff, mentions of choking, pet names for reader, a lot of cuddling, they/them pronouns used for reader (once)

Words: 2k

First time posting on tumblr. Agatha and Rio might be my new favorite MCU characters! AAA week had perfect timing as I wrote this during election night but only posted it to AO3 a few days ago

Key in lock. Key in lock. It wasn’t that difficult.

You finally managed to jam your key into the door. The door pushed open, and you almost fell through it. Getting the key out should have been easier than getting it in, but nothing about this day had been easy.

You closed the door behind you. Your bag slipped off your arms to the ground and your keys should’ve landed on the little side table by the door but fell to the floor. Shoes came off on your way through the hall to the living room. You pulled off your jacket when you stepped through the door. The last bits of energy left you the instant being home sank into your consciousness. Agatha sitting on the couch registered in the back of your brain on the way down to the floor.

You sank onto the hardwood floors and let out a deep, deep sigh.

You weren’t necessarily looking for a reaction, you were waiting for the stress to leave your body. There should be a scientific correlation between stress reduction and lying on the ground.

It took you a few minutes to figure that today lying face down on the ground wasn’t going to cut it. Another deep sigh and you pressed yourself up from the floor. You used the last vestiges of your energy supply to crawl over to the couch. Your body felt heavier than usual, pulling you down to the floor, making every inch gain a battle against gravity.

You finally made it to the edge of the couch. Getting up on the couch seemed impossible. Getting Agatha away from her book even more so.

You pulled yourself along a bit further and then half fell over to sink against the couch, or more importantly, against Agatha’s legs. Your head settled against her knees, making sure that you wouldn’t fall over when all the tension left your body.

Breathing. You could do that easily. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe o–

Your breath faltered for a moment, feeling Agatha’s fingers slowly carding through your hair.

Breathe out. Breathe in. Repeat.

You could do this. Agatha was softly stroking your hair. A soft tingling spread over your head down to your shoulders and slowly helped settle the exhausted roar in your body.

Work had been a bitch today. Everyone expected you to help with their problems, not caring about the work you had to finish today. Working Saturdays was not worth the little extra pay it offered.

But you were home now. No more work. Only breathing. Feeling Agatha’s body heat warming your side and breathing. You tried to sync your breathing to Agatha’s hand. Stroking up from your neck and carding through your hair then softly caressing the edge of your forehead. The hand pulled back to your neck. Always moving slowly, stroking softly. Bit by bit lulling you to sleep without you even noticing it.

Suddenly you jerked awake. You couldn’t have been out for more than a few seconds. Groaning you let your head fall back against the couch. No rest for the terminally exhausted apparently.

Agatha’s hand had wandered to the side of your face, coming around your throat to pull up your chin.

“Up, pet.”

The words found you, loud and clear, even though you felt they were said to her book rather than in your direction. Agatha’s hand left your throat, expecting you to follow her order without lending a heavy hand.

You turned your head to look up at her. She was still engrossed in her book.

The few minutes of calm had recharged you enough to push off the ground and pull yourself up onto the couch.

Her arms opened as soon as you were level with her, one hand still holding onto her book. Agatha’s concentration never broke but her invitation was clear.

Heat spread onto your cheeks, but you didn’t keep her waiting, knowing the invitation to be temporary when she was busy reading. You swung your leg over her lap and planted yourself down, feeling her arms come around you immediately.

This was definitely better than lying on the ground. Your legs encased Agatha’s, stomach and chest meeting their warm opposites, arms rounding her neck while your head came to rest on her shoulder.

You breathed in deeply, finding comfort in Agatha’s scent, letting your lips briefly wander over her neck, seeking intimacy without starting something you didn’t have the energy to finish.

You settled down when Agatha’s hand returned to your head and the calm returned.

Soft strokes of her fingertips, the sound of pages being turned and the rhythmic rise and fall of her warm body underneath you soothed you enough to fall asleep.

A door closed somewhere far away, and your ears picked up the sound without awakening you completely. Agatha’s hand had wandered down to your back at some point and was brushing up and down your spine at odd intervals, soothing you back into unconsciousness.

Unbeknownst to you, the person coming through the door into the living room was fixed with a glare from your human body pillow.

Rio was known for her silent existence, though her footsteps fell heavy, announcing her imminent arrival. A glare from Agatha made her stop in her tracks.

"That kind of day?" She asked and Agatha nodded while stroking your back. Her eyes moved back to her book, not interested in diverting her attention even more.

Rio walked over to the back of the couch, taking care to soften her walk. She bent down, pausing to listen for your steady breaths and pressed a kiss to the back of your head, before grasping her wife’s chin to pull her away from her book.

The kiss is soft but forceful at the same time, a very persistent quality for Rio’s kisses.

"You know we should do something about their shitty boss. What's the use of a pet if they’re always tired?"

Agatha, wanting to return to her book merely grunted her agreement and continued to stroke your back. She might seem cold and uninterested at times, but Rio knew better.

Agatha wasn’t the type of person to ask you what you needed. That didn’t mean she didn’t care. Agatha spent hours and hours watching the people around her, learning their habits, and figuring out how they ticked. Calculating and implementing what she could provide, comparing your reactions, and choosing the most effective outcome. Depending on your mood, the most effective outcome wasn’t always what you thought you needed, but you had learned to trust Agatha and her methods of calming you down. Or riling you up. Depending on her mood.

But she knew when you came home exhausted, barely getting past the door, you didn’t need words or big gestures. You needed calm, preferably paired with body heat. Agatha had sat down on the couch with her book only a few minutes before you had come home, awaiting your arrival.

It wasn’t the first time you had come home only to crash to the floor. Agatha had learned to let you go through your progress. The phases didn’t always take the same time. Once you had fallen asleep on the kitchen floor, only crawling over to her after more than an hour.

But you would always end up cuddled into Agatha. Your head in her lap, sitting next to her with your head on her chest, or her favorite, sitting in her lap, breathing syncing with hers.

Rio knew all that, trusted Agatha’s instinct, and felt ecstatic when you crawled into her lap if she sat down next to Agatha when she came home.

Another kiss was pressed to your hair. Then Rio went into the kitchen to prepare dinner.

A while later Rio patted back into the living room, kneeling next to your still sleeping form. Her hand brushed her wife’s at the bottom of your spine and stroked up your back to card through the little hairs on your neck. You let out a deep sigh, not waking up fully but your body noticed the added touch.

Her hand ghosted down your neck to find purchase on your shoulder, kneading into the still-tensed muscles. A sigh turned into a deep groan, pulling you out of your dreamless nap.

"Hungry, mi amor?"

You unconsciously leaned into the pressure from Rio’s hands, your body immediately recognizing her touch.

"Mhmmm?" Your eyes still closed, your lips still in contact with Agatha’s neck, you slowly come to.

There was a hand softly stroking your lower back, right where your shirt had ridden up, and a different set of hands digging into your sore shoulder muscles. A great way to wake from a nap after a day in hell.

The only reaction the two women got from you was a drawn-out groan and an apparent lack of further movement.

"Hungry?"

This time the question was posed to both occupants of the couch, and Agatha nodded for the both of you, knowing food always improved your mood if only you were awake enough not to choke on it. Choking you was her job.

A kiss was pressed to your head and the hands on your shoulders left you.

"Want to get up, sweetheart?"

The words went against everything your brain was currently demanding, and you reacted in the most petulant way, strengthening your grip around Agatha and quietly whining into her skin.

"Rio cooked for us, pet, the least we could do is join her at the table."

"Can't we eat on the couch?" The first words you had spoken since you came home tickled Agatha’s neck.

Something in your voice made Agatha give in and she called out to Rio to bring the food to the living room.

There was still the problem of extracting yourself from the warm embrace you had burrowed yourself in, which seemed entirely too much for your still hazy brain.

Agatha’s hands went to your sides, trying to push you back a little, but your arms tightened their grip around her torso exponentially.

A chuckle could be heard. Rio was watching the drama unfold in real time and formed a plan to get your energy back enough to pull you out of your burrow.

She bent down, setting her hands on the back of the couch, purposely brushing your arm on the way there, and found her wife’s lips. A kiss that was definitely for your benefit, though also a way to get close to Agatha after having been apart the whole day.

It quickly progressed from a simple press of lips to something more intense. Agatha’s arm pulled up to grasp her wife’s neck, boxing you in in the progress.

Being pressed between Agatha and Rio was soothing on the worst day, overstimulating on the best.

You quickly grew uninterested in staying immobile and turned your head out of Agatha’s neck to watch your mistresses kiss. You managed to pull your arm out of your now more forced embrace and brushed Rio’s cheek.

They pulled apart and Rio turned her head to brush a kiss against your hand and gave you her signature smirk.

"You awake now, mi vida?"

Your eyes sparkling in her direction were answer enough and she leaned in again to press a kiss on your lips, peaking out her tongue to brush your lower lip, starting a spark in you that helped you wake up the rest of the way.

It had always been your problem, that if you had a taste of something intoxicating, you couldn't stop. You deepened the kiss, turning towards Rio and gaining some distance from the warm body below you.

"Our pet is definitely awake now. Save some of that hunger for dinner, little one." Agatha spoke, feeling life had finally returned to you.

Rio chuckled and ended the kiss, leaving you slightly breathless.

"Dinner on the couch means dessert in bed?"

That damned smirk had you hooked from the first time you saw it.

[moonchild9350]

Sign the Dotted Line (Chapter Six)

Summary: You have a special opportunity to travel with the boys, making it a mini vacation while you're at it. This makes it the perfect opportunity to turn over a new leaf with Minho, or so you hope.

Pairing: idol Minho x fab reader

Genre: angst, fluff (for 2 seconds), smut- 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: dry humping, p in v penetration, multiple creampies (wrap it up), slapping. I think that's it.

Notes: Y'all we are nearing the end, with this being the second to last chapter of this mini series! It is kinda bittersweet haha. Also yall toxic relationships are bad don’t be like the reader in this story. I felt like I should say that. Anyways, this is lightly edited, as I was exhausted, so please excuse any typos.

I hope you like this chapter! If so consider a reblog, comment, or like. My dms are open as well! ♡

New chapters posted on Saturdays at 1pm CST!

Series Summary: You are living an ordinary life until one day you come across a notice from your favorite band Stray Kids, that the company is looking for a girlfriend for one of its members Lee Minho. Thinking you have nothing else to lose, you apply. This one action causes your life to change forever.

Series Masterlist

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

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“So y/n,” Chan said, “how are you holding up?”

Chan searched your face, looking for any sign of discomfort. You started to relax at his reaction, always having a soft spot for the man.

“I’m fine Chan.” You said.

Chan looked skeptical, not believing your response. You chuckled at the expression on his face.

“Chan I’m fine. I promise,” you repeated with a chuckle.

Chan seemed to accept your answer the second time around.

“Ok good. I know things have not been ideal and tough recently…well since you arrived.”

That’s an understatement you thought. Things have definitely not been ok since you arrived.

Chan shifted in his seat, it was almost like he was nervous which was odd for the leader.

“Come on Chan, spit it out,” you chuckled.

He gave you a grin, “ok ok you got me y/n. I wanted to explain why minho is…the way he is.”

At this, you straightened up, your full attention on the man in front of you. You’d be lying to yourself if you weren’t interested in what he had to say, anything helping to get a glimpse into Minho’s mind.

“Minho is…stubborn. He not in tune with his emotions most of the time, surprising them until he does something rash.” Chan stopped as if he were thinking.

“He’s also possessive, and I don’t think he likes when we’re overly friendly with you.” Chan said, running his hands through his hair.

“I hope he’ll talk to you soon. Maybe actually explain himself better than I am now. We just don’t want you to leave y/n.”

You listened to Chan’s explanation. It made sense, every bit of what he was saying. Minho did seem possessive, you could tell as he was giving you the best fuck of your life. Was he acting out because of that?

“Thanks for explaining Chan, I appreciate it. I’m not leaving though. The manager refused to terminate my contract,” you nervously chuckled as you remembered that conversation.

“Oh? I figured as much.” Chan said. Well we’re happy you’ll be staying. I’m sure minho will be happy too even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

Chan gave you a warm smile. “Well now that’s done shall we go back? It’s almost time for the meeting.”

You nodded getting up and following Chan out the door. That conversation was actually helpful, giving you an insight into Minho’s mind. You hoped you both could talk at some point.

You both made your way back to the practice room, slipping inside the room and making your way to the couches. Felix gave you a huge smile, making room for you on the couch. You couldn’t help but smile back at Mr. Sunshine himself and plopped down next to him.

Everyone was chatting, and there was the occasional scream, the chaos a familiar and comfortable sight at this point. The door opened and Harin and Seoyun walked in, making their way to their boyfriends. You kept looking over at Minho, who was lost in conversation with Jisung. He looked okay, didn’t seemed affected by the turn of events a few days before. However, you knew looks can be deceiving.

A short while later, the door opened, the manager walking into the room. Everyone quieted down, looking at her expectedly, giving her their undivided attention. She pulled up a stool and sat down before beginning the meeting. She went over logistics, taking about the upcoming comeback, rehearsal schedules and other minor things. At the end of the meeting she mentioned one other thing, stating that the boys would be going to Japan for a fan event. The girls could come if they wanted as there would be part of the trip where the members could sight see.

Harin and Seoyun clapped their hands, excitement on their faces. They were definitely going to go. You weren’t sure if you should go, you’d definitely have to think on it. The meeting wrapped up, everyone going their separate ways. You got up, getting ready to go when you were stopped by Jisung.

“Where are you going? Stay with us! We’re going to grab something to eat.”

You looked at the boy in front of you, hope in his eyes. You couldn’t say no, not to this face. You shook your head yes, as he smiled at your answer. You sat back down next to Felix who immediately started chatting with you. Your mood improved as the conversation went on.

“Y/n, please tell me you’re coming to Japan with us,” Felix said.

“I…I don’t know Felix. I’m not sure I’d be…welcome.”

Felix looked shocked, his eyes growing wide. “Why wouldn’t you be? We love you!”

“Thanks Lixie. But not everyone loves me,” you said as you hung your head. You started picking at your nails as the blonde stared at you. Recognition dawned on his face.

“Y/n, you know he would actually like you to be there. You don’t have to tiptoe around us just because of an argument with Mr. Stubborn.”

You giggled at the nickname Felix gave Minho, a smile breaking out on his face at the sight.

“Ok, ok Lix. I’ll go okay,” you laughed.

“Perfect! We’ll have so much fun sight seeing on our off days!”

You had no doubt about it. With this group you’d be surprised if you all didn’t get kicked out because of the chaos. You couldn’t hide, not anymore. You had to enjoy the moments as they came and this was a perfect opportunity to do. You weren’t going to let “Mr. Stubborn” as Felix called him get in your way.

Weeks passed and the day came for the group to head to Japan. You couldn’t lie, you were excited to go, as you’ve never been there before. You decided to meet with the girls before and then go to the airport together, avoiding the fans and paparazzi that was going to be there to see the boys. You were happy about this, as you still hadn’t gotten use to the nonstop flashing of lights from the cameras.

All three of you left the dorms, and made your way to the company car. You slid in next to Seoyun, settling in for the ride. You looked out the window, watching the scenery go by, many cars speeding by. It didn’t take long to get to the airport. The boys had already made it as you saw groups of fans and paparazzi following a group of men as they headed into the airpot. Grabbing your bag, you braced yourself, hoping most of the people would stick to following the boys.

The car pulled to the curb, and Harin opened the door to get out as she was closer. There were a few groups of people who turned around and saw you three get out the car, excitement on their faces once they recognized who you guys were. As you made your way to the door, you bent your head, shielding your eyes from the flashes of light from cameras.

You thought the flashes would end once you got inside, but it continued, a constant light blinding you as you made your way to the security checkpoint. You lifted your head to look ahead, noticing the boys in front of you. You had hope and were thankful that they were close. Getting through security was a slow process, with you three girls standing in the back most of the time until it was your turn. Thankfully, you didn’t have much you had to take out of your bag, making it easy to go through the detectors without issue.

Once you, Harin, and Seoyun made it through, you breathed a sigh of relief, the hoardes of people not allowed past security. You jogged to catch up to the boys, Jisung noticing you right away.

“Y/n! Hi! I’m so happy you’re here!” He said giving you a big, gummy smile.

“Hi Ji,” you said. You couldn’t help but smile back, the crowds of people forgotten.

“We’re going to grab a bite to eat while we wait to board, wanna come?”

You shook your head, noticing the other girls had made their way to their boyfriends. You could go for some food. You followed Jisung over to where Felix and Jeongin were standing, the younger boys giving you a wave and smile as you approached. You couldn’t help but look around, your eyes looking for Minho. He was standing with Chan and Harin, looking hot as always in a simple white tee and sweatpants. You quickly looked away, not wanting anyone to catch you staring.

“Alright, ready?” Felix asked.

You all nodded and began walking over to a kiosk selling ramen. After ordering, you made your way to the register ready to pay, only to have your hand slapped away, preventing you from hading your card to the cashier.

“Na uh y/n, I’ll pay ok?” Jisung said, giving you a stern look.

You could tell he was not going to budge, so you surrendered, stepping aside to let the man pay. He grinned as you moved, handing his card over to pay. You grabbed your bowl and made your way to a table with the others. The food looked amazing, as you were starving, not having ate anything since last night. You groaned with the first bite, the flavor heavenly on your tongue.

You passed the time until take off with the boys, as they laughed and joked around. Jisung started to talk about places he wanted to go on the off days, and foods he wanted to try. You listened in awe, amazed that they knew so many neat spots. Of course, you remembered they have been to Japan many times, and know their way around a little.

Looking at your watch, you mentioned you all should probably head back to the gate, boarding would take place soon. They agreed, grabbing their trash to dump on the way back. Felix fell in stride with you as you all walked back to the gate.

“Sit with me?” He asked, hope in his eyes.

You nodded yes, more than happy to sit with the sunshine boy. Felix grinned, happy you agreed. Once you all made it to the gate, boarding began, as you all filed onto the plane one by one. You settled in your seat, Felix sitting next to you. He chatted with you while you all waited to take off, the others joking around with you. The boys snapped pictures to send to fans, the plane filing with laughter. You smiled along, their happiness contagious.

Before long, it was time to leave, the plane making its way down the runway and up into the air. You settled into your seat, closing your eyes for a nap. You would need every ounce of sleep you could get, as you’re sure the agenda would be packed with activities. You drifted off, the sound of the engine as your background noise, hoping to sleep soundly until you landed.

You were awoken by being jostled in your seat, your eyes opening in a panic, looking around for the cause of the disturbance. Felix placed his hand on your lap calming you, letting you know the plane just landed. You gave him a smile, straightening up in your seat and smoothing your hair down. You all got off the plane, making your way to the cars waiting to take you to the hotel. You were about to get in the car with Felix, Jisung, Changbin, and Hyunjin but you felt a hand on your back guiding you away from the car.

“The boys have schedule today, they’ll be back later,” Harin said guiding you to a separate car.

You looked up seeing Seoyun get into a separate car. You slid in behind her, Harin following suite. The driver was taking you three to the hotel, as you were not needed for any schedule activities today. You couldn’t wait to get to your room, shower, and take a nap, exhaustion kicking in from the flight. Looking out the window, you took in the sights. There were people everywhere, walking on the sidewalks, on bikes, even the traffic was slow.

Not too much longer passed before the driver pulled up to the hotel. He helped you all with your bags, before bowing and getting back into the car. A staff member was already in the lobby, waiting for your arrival. They handed each one of you your room keys and dismissed you. Taking the keys, you grabbed your suite case and followed the others, making your way to the elevators.

Once on the assigned floor, you said your goodbyes and parted ways. You keyed yourself in, and stepped through the threshold, closing the door behind you. Tossing your shoes off, you took in your surroundings. There was a nice king size bed in the center of the room, a couch, and mini kitchenette. You walked to the window, pulling back the curtains to peak outside. Your room was facing the street, giving you a view of the busy road below, people making their way quickly to their destinations.

You closed the curtains once more and opened your suitcase, pulling out everything you needed for a shower. You decided to sleep in one of your sleep shirts, as the room was a little too warm for comfort. Stepping into the large bathroom, you turned the shower on, quickly discarded your clothes and got in. The water felt great on your skin, washing away the impurities from travel and the sweat that you are sure accumulated on you since your arrival. Once done, you turned the water off and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around your body. It didn’t take you long to get dress, tossing on a pair of panties and slipping the shirt over your head. You put your hair up into a messy bun and padded your way to the large bed.

Pulling back the covers, you slid in, sighing as your back hit the soft mattress. You felt like you were in heaven, surrounded by the fluffy covers. You felt your eyes droop before they shut for good as you succumb to sleep. You were dreaming, you knew you were dreaming because Minho was there, looking good in all his glory. He kept trying to reach out to you, but you would turn away, not wanting to entertain him. The process went on and on until you locked yourself in a room, locking the door to get away from him. It seemed to work until you heard a knock on the door, which you ignored. However, the knock kept coming, eventually becoming a pounding on the door. But wait, why would the sound get louder? Unless…

Your eyes flew open, as you looked around the room, feeling a little disoriented. You startled as another knock came to your door. This must have been what you had heard in your dream. Stretching your limbs, you got out of bed, padding your way to the door. You stood on your tiptoes to peek through the peep hole to see who it was. There stood Minho, at your door, his hands tucked in his pockets.

You were shocked, not expecting to see him, especially as you just dreamed of avoiding him. He was about to knock again when you pulled open the door, his hand paused midair. You both stood there staring at each other, neither knowing what to say. You decided to let him talk since he was the one to show up at your door. You watched as Minho’s eyes scanned your body, his eyes lingering on your bare legs. You looked down, your face heating up, realizing you were only in your sleep shirt.

You looked up once more, meeting Minho’s eyes once more. He took a deep breath before saying, “Can I come in? We need to talk.”

You considered telling him no. You wanted nothing more than to crawl back in bed and go back to sleep. However, the rational side of your brain knew you should let him in. You both really needed to talk, especially after you had that discussion with Chan.

You nodded your head and stepped aside, allowing him to cross the threshold. You closed the door and made your way into your room, signaling for Minho to sit on the couch. He walked over before sinking down, stretching his legs in front of him. You opted to sit on the edge of the bed, your legs dangling. You sat in silence as you waited for Minho to say something.

He seemed nervous, as he kept wringing his hands, as he crossed and uncrossed his legs. You had never seen him so nervous, as he always seemed confident in his words and actions. You could tell he was struggling internally with himself, probably about whether or not he should go through with this. In the end, he must have decided to just get it over with as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Y/n,” he said, his voice cracking a little. He cleared his throat before saying once more, “Y/n, I want to say I’m sorry for how I’ve acted over the last few days, hell, for since we met.”

“I…” he looked down at his hands, as he shook his leg. He swallowed, before looking up again. “I do like you y/n, more than you know. I um…I love you. I guess I didn’t know how to handle my feelings and express them. Yeah at first I was pissed, but it wasn’t you. I was mad at the company and well you happened to be here and I took it out on you.”

You listened as he rambled on, expecting every word after talking with Chan. It was nice to hear it from him, it was a start to mending your relationship.

“I am a little possessive, I don’t like to see you with other men, even if it’s the members. It does make me irritated I guess. I’ve talked with the others about it and they think I’m dumb of course, but I just want you to myself.”

Minho paused as he seemed to be reflecting. There was silence throughout the room as you waited for him to continue.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and it may take a while if you do decide to forgive me, but I want to apologize and hope you will consider forgiving me y/n.”

He seemed to be done, as he sat back, took a deep breath and let it out. You appreciated his words, knowing it took everything in him to come before you and apologize. You know he’s possessive, you know he’s stubborn, and you know he likes things his way. But, you also know how kind he can be, how he loves the members, how he loves his family, and yes even how he loves you.

You figured it out pretty quickly, but didn’t want to believe it, thinking no one who loves you treats you that way. Of course your theory was confirmed after speaking with Chan and now after listening to Minho. Thing is you had already forgiven him, but didn’t want to move things too quickly, wanting him to step up and take responsibility for his actions. You were willing to push past this, as you still had to abide by the contract.

You let him sit there and struggle, watching as he looked everywhere around the room except at you. You smirked to yourself at his reactions, as the boy was stressed, probably worried that you’d reject his apology. After a few more moments however, you decided to respond, put the poor boy out of his misery.

“Thank you,” you said, his head snapping up at your words. “All I wanted was an explanation, an apology. You’ve treated me like shit this last year. I adored you before signing this contract, thought you were an amazing person. Of course that perspective changed once I actually got to know you. You’re stubborn, and yes possessive, you like to do things your way, but I also know you’re a good person.”

You stopped, as you shifted on the bed. “I guess I forgive you Minho cause I guess I kind of love you too. We can start anew.”

Minho looked at you, his eyes wide, mouth hanging open. He couldn’t believe your words. You forgave him, just like that. He silently thanked his lucky stars. He shook his head, a smile starting to form on his face. You got up and walked over, quickly closing the gap. You grasped his face between your hands and sealed the promise of a new relationship with a kiss, you lips molding with his.

Just like you remembered, his lips were soft, easily moving along with yours. Minho gripped your hips and brought you closer, as he ran his tongue along your bottom lip. You relaxed your stance as you kissed the man in front of you feeling like you were where you should be.

As Minho kissed you, he pulled you into his lap, having you straddle him. The kiss grew more heated as he ducked and nipped at your lip, causing you to let out a moan. You rolled your hips along his covered cock, sighing out at the pleasure you felt. Minho gripped your hips and smoothed his fingers over your skin before snaking his hands down to your ass.

He gave the flesh a squeeze before guiding your hips back and forth, as his hardened cock brushed against your core, catching your clit just right. You whimpered at the feeling, as you wrapped your arms him and buried your face against the crook of his neck. You felt him shudder beneath you as your breath fanned against him, his as he gripped your hips harder.

With a growl deep in his chest, Minho pulled you away, picking you up and placing you down on the couch on all fours. Your head was resting on the back of the couch, your legs spread so he could see your glistening pussy. You turned your head to look at Minho as he unzipped his pants, pulling his cock out. He dragged the tip through your folds, teasing your clit over and over. It felt good and you couldn’t wait for him to breach your walls, filling you up over and over again.

“Minho, please,” you whined, arching your back more to present to him.

“Please what baby?” Minho asked, still sliding his cock through your lips, coating the tip in your arousal.

“Give me you cock, need you cock Minho.” You replied, desperation in your voice.

Minho chuckled before slamming into you, the sudden stretch causing you to yell out. He picked up a brutal pace, the sound of skin on skin echoing throughout the room. You listened as Minho let out a loud groan, adjusting his stance in order to go deeper. The change in position cause his cock to rub your sweet spot just right, the pleasure mounting which each stroke.

You felt your high approaching, as Minho abused your pussy, his cock kissing your cervix again and again. He gripped your ass, his fingers digging into the skin before he let his hand come down, slapping the flesh, causing you to moan.

“I missed this pussy baby,” Minho said, his breathing fast, his chest raising and falling rapidly. He was close, your walls hugging his cock just right, like you were made for him. He missed you and your quirkiness and your smile. He missed listening to you talk with him, no matter the topic. He was never letting you go, he knew that for sure. He guesses this is what people mean when they say absence makes the heart grow fonder.

“Will you cum for me baby? Cum with me..” Minho breathed out, as he thrusted a few more times before stilling and emptying his load into you. He heard your moans, as his hot cum painted your walls, you clenching down on his member again and again. With a loud wail, he felt you cum, as you spasmed beneath him, your walls fluttering again and again.

Minho squeezed your hips before pulling out, his cum dripping onto the couch below. He pulled up his pants leaving them unzipped before lifting you up, carrying you to the bed. Placing you beneath the sheets, he pulled off his pants completely and slid in next to you, cradling you into his chest. He kissed the top of your head before saying, “I love you.”

You responded without hesitation, saying I love you back. You did love this man. You had fallen for him long ago, your heart split in two when he denied you. However, you were, in the man you love arms. You were happy he explained himself and apologized, the future looking brighter. Of course there is still a part of you wondering if he will go back on his word, just like last time. You hoped that was not the case and were willing to take the chance.

Moments passed, silence throughout the room. The only sounds you hear is the thumping of Minho’s heart as you lay on his chest. Minho gently shifted, placing you on your back, settling between your legs. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, his own gently massaging yours. The kiss grew heated, his tongue pushing into your mouth to entangle with yours.

You felt him push your leg up before gently sliding into your warm heat once more, as he set a gentle pace, slowly thrusting his hips into yours. He swallowed your moans, your breath getting faster as the pleasure deepened. Minho looked you in the eyes as he thrusted, moving his hand to grab yours and intertwine them, placing them above your head. The sensation was heightened, the pleasure building throughout your body, slowly making its way to your core. With a few more thrusts, you tipped over the edge, your back arching off the bed as your orgasm spread through you, causing your toes to curl and vision go white. You came hard, the feeling so intense, you couldn’t stop, as Minho continued to make love to you.

The sight below him was beautiful, you lost in ecstasy because of him. He took in your beautiful features, as you came, his cock twitching within you. He rocked his hips again and again, his orgasm approaching. A few more thrusts and he felt his release, once more flooding your walls.

You sighed at the feeling of his cum once more hitting your walls, as your breathing slowly returned to normal. Minho pressed a kiss to your lips before pulling out and getting up. You watched as he walked to the bathroom and heard the water running. A moment later he came out, a washcloth in his hands. He gently wiped you down, cleaning you of the sticky fluids. Once done, he tossed the towel away before sliding in next to you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

Minho looked you in the eyes, searching them for any regret, not finding any. “I’m never leaving again,” he whispered, kissing you once more.

“Thank goodness,” you replied, a smile on your face as you snuggled closer to him. You felt in your gut you could believe him, his actions being louder than words tonight. You were more than ready to move forward with your boyfriend, and tonight would be the start of your brand new beginning with Minho. As you drifted off to sleep, you dreamed of Minho, showering him with your love and for the first time in a long time, you slept like the dead, comforted within the arms of the man you love.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @palindrome969 @armystay89 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @artemisdoe @emily21morgan @athforskz @jazziwritesthings @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @jisunglyricist @tsunderelino @hyuneyeon @sillyhal @queenmea604 @bloominhos @partyparty-yah

[athetos]

Some thoughts from severance s2e3, and the season in general:

I 100% assumed the reason the goat people were asking to see their bellies was to see if they had belly buttons. Since the prevailing theory is that the goats are for cloning purposes, i figured they wanted to make sure they weren’t clones (clones not having belly buttons because they weren’t birthed/have need for an umbilical cord). If we take the pouches line at face value, I’d guess that they were told a rumor that MDR had pouches, to sow division and fear between the departments (like the fake uprising told to MDR about O&D, and vice versa).

The Export Floor. The fact that O&D used to deliver things there themselves, but then a courier was used. My theory is that someone saw something there they shouldn’t have. I don’t know how o!Irving knows about it, but I’m not here to discuss that right now. What I want to talk about is the name. The obvious one is exporting goods (or even ideas) to other countries, and this could simply mean it’s where stuff made by O&D gets sent up to the ‘outtie’ world. But there’s another possibility - export as in transferring data to another software/format. I think it’s this meaning that is critical, and has big implications for Gemma/Ms. Casey. They could be transferring the data MDR has refined to her chip, or in some way or another, working on “Cold Harbor.”

I am very firmly in the ‘that’s Helena’ camp now. I don’t think this is in character for Helly, as the extremely awkward conversation in the hall with Mark as well as telling Irving they ‘got him’ sealed it for me. I’m fairly certain that management knows it’s Helena; after all, they don’t activate her chip, although I won’t rule out she paid someone off/threatened them to do it. That said, I like to believe she compromised with the board to go down as herself, instead of as Helly. This would also mean that she can encourage Mark to go places that Lumon specifically wants him to see, instead of ones that are much more confidential. However, I think she’ll end up siding with the innies by the end, simply because the connections she will forge with them will be the only genuine and loving relationships in her life.

I didn’t mention this before, but i’m pretty sure Irving knows that Helena/Helly is lying, because he was the only innie who spent enough time outside to know that it was winter and she couldn’t have been gardening. He distrusts her, that’s why he only told Dylan about Burt.

Upon immediately seeing Dylan’s wife I assumed she was a hired actress. However it genuinely appears to be her (granted, I’m faceblind, but the voice sounded the same when she was with his outtie later in the episode). Lumon clearly thinks that this perk will keep i!Dylan in line, but I think it might backfire spectacularly, or at least cause significant drama - his wife is going to fall in love with his innie. Think about it, if their marriage is going through a rough patch, and she gets to spend time with a version of her husband who lacks all of the assumptions/grudges he has against her - basically starting all over… yeah, it’s gonna get strange. The way she talked about it to o!Dylan was like she was hiding it from him, almost like it’s the beginning of a potential affair…

(I also am still of the mind that either she or one of their children is terminally ill in some way, hence the benefits/insurance that Dylan is always looking after. He also complained a few times about having sore arms and jokes he works out. I feel this might be related somehow? But not sure…)

I stand by my theory that the board is actually the motherboard and is Kier’s (and his successors?) consciousness, or something of that ilk. The board was referred to as “it” in this episode (also “they”, but I believe that was meant as in plural, including Natalie). So I think we actually don’t have any proof that it’s multiple people or even people period. It will be like the export double meaning I mentioned earlier. Again, the board is hot on Mark staying and working because it wants him to finish Cold Harbor so it can begin the revival of Kier’s family (the rotation could potentially mean their minds being uploaded. Or something of that nature.)

No big theories or details to chew on here, but things that got big reactions from me: the Black Kier portraits I was expecting but still not prepared for. I desperately want to see Natalie’s portraits that she received; were they all biracial, all women, or both? The idea of genderbent biracial Kier family is killing me. This is like Hamilton (I think). Cobel definitely was going to die if she went into the building, she made the right call, I was terrified that her car might explode as she left. Phew. Next episode is going to be a roller coaster, I can tell. Shocked that he’s starting reintegration so soon but I’m here for it. Worried that Devon is going to get murdered. And I’m waiting for Cobel to get hunted down by Mark or for her to willingly seek him out as she realizes this is her only chance left to… do whatever the fuck it is she wants to do.

[carolinaoceanblvdbaby]

Gemini Mars

kyle broflovski x reader SMUT

A/N: hey y’all!! my old acc got terminated :( so this is a repost. also, ofc, kyle is aged up. don’t be weird. also this is your warning that this is smut. i ain’t your mom so i can’t tell you what to do but this right here is me telling you that this is smut.

꧁☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼꧂

It was shocking that Sheila Broflovski had no qualms about Kyle and you being up in his bedroom with the door shut with how overprotective she was but honestly, she could never imagine her son doing anything inappropriate in his life. If she knew what disgusting and vile things her son was doing to his girlfriend up there, they would only be allowed in the living room with adult supervision.

Upstairs, Kyle’s television was playing. Neither Kyle nor you were really paying attention though. Both of you had your phones out, scrolling mindlessly. Your For You page on TikTok was full of astrology videos. You found them entertaining but you would definitely be lying if you said you weren’t trying to figure out how you could subtly get his birth time from Sheila. Double tapping one video, you scrolled to the next one. Reading the text on the video, you learned more about mars signs and what your mars sign can say about your sexuality. What a shame you didn’t have Kyle’s full birth chart but based on the chart you drew up without birth time, Kyle was a Gemini mars which honestly made sense with the way he was fairly quick to anger but when he wasn’t, he was the nicest guy in the world. Quickly, you typed into Google ‘mars signs kinks’. The search results told you gemini mars were into dirty talk, fingering, hands, talking their partner to orgasm, tend to get turned on by glasses and intellect,oral fixation, french and open mouthed kissing, toys and just overall sensual and vocal sex. Too bad you didn’t have the birth time so you could know the house his mars falls in. Wondering how accurate it was, you just decided to ask him.

“Hey, Kyle?” You asked

“Hmm?” Kyle hummed, not looking up from his phone

“What are you into?” You asked, grinning

“What do you mean?”

“Like, in bed. What are your fantasies? Desires? Kinks?” Your stupid grin never left your face

“No.” Kyle kept his eyes on his phone, frozen but you could see a deep blush on his freckled skin

“Yes, tell me!”

“No.”

“Kyleeee, come on! I’ll tell you mine!” You tried to bargain

“Okay, fine.” Kyle put his phone down and looked at you, his face still red but he had a slight grin

You paused to think and then you began your monologue. “Hmm, your fingers are so long, sometimes I wonder what they would feel like in me. I wanna wrap my fingers around your cock and pump it till you cum all over my tongue. I wanna suck you dry. I want your tongue in me. I wanna swallow your cum. I want your balls slapping against me. I want you on top of me, pounding so hard into me. I wanna hear how good I make you feel and I want you to hear how good you make me feel. I want my walls to clench around you, squeezing your cum into me and all over my walls. I wanna watch you slip your fingers in and out of me in the mirror. I want you to hold my wrists over my head while you fuck me stupid. I wanna straddle you and make out with you. I want to drain your ball of cum. I want it from behind. I want you to fuck me against the wall. I want you to feel me cum all over your face and oh my gosh, I want you to cum all over my face. I want you to talk dirty to me. I want to taste myself when you kiss me. I want you to praise me, tell me how good I’m doing and I am a good girl. I want you to just pound me from behind as your fingers circle my clit. I wanna sit on your face while you eat me out. I wanna make love to you to Lana Del Rey. I want you to fuck me with your glasses on, you’re so hot wearing them. I want you to do disgusting, vile things to me and I want to do disgusting, vile things to you. I just want nasty sex with you.”

Kyle just simply stared at you during your foul monologue, blushing before responding.

“You are nasty, y/n.”

“Oh come on, Kyle! Tell me what you’re into!” You groaned

“Or I could just show you?” Kyle grinned mischievously as he crawled on top of you.

“Please.” You sighed as you circled your arms around his neck and his lips were on yours. They were soft and just so utterly perfect against yours. He parted your lips with his tongue, grazing against yours while his hand cupped your face. His hand slipped underneath your shirt, cupping your lacy brasserie and you softly moaned. He stopped kissing and touching you immediately. You yearned for his touch again. He placed his thumb on your bottom lip while cupping your face again.

“You’re gonna have to be quiet. Don’t want my mom catching us. Think you can do that for me?” He smirked and you nodded, needing him. His lips were back on yours and his left hand slipped under you to unhook your bra. You quickly slipped your shirt off as well as your bra. Kyle grazed his lips over your neck and you couldn’t help yourself, you let out a soft whimper. Of course he pulled away.

“I fucking told you to be quiet, why couldn’t you control yourself?”

“You do things to me.” you grinned at him and he immediately sat back down next to you and grabbed his phone. He went back to scrolling on his phone.

“Kyle, what the fuck are you doing? I swear on all things holy I’ll be quiet.” Kyle put his phone back down and slipped over you, kissing you roughly.

“You better.” He mumbled against your lips and then trailed his lips down your neck again. This time you kept your mouth shut. He tongue darted out as his lips moved down your neck, over your collar bones, and then to your breasts. He licked each of your nipples, making them hard. You bit your lip and tried so hard to not let out a whimper. You reached down to the hem of his shirt and pulled it off. You ran your hands over his bare chest and pulled him close to you, kissing him hard. He returned the kiss but didn’t let it last for too long as he clearly had other plans for you. Kyle yanked your pants down and spread your legs. He kissed the inside of your thigh before running one of his slender fingers through the hood of your soaking wet cunt.

“You wanted my fingers in you? Yeah?” He teased you as he continued lightly touching your needy cunt. You nodded and he grinned up at you, proud of the way he got you to react and proud of you for staying quiet.

“You’re such a good girl, yeah? Being so quiet for me and, fuck, you’re so wet for me, honey. Aren’t you?” He grinned

“Yeah, just for you.” You whispered softly

With confirmation that he didn’t need from you, he stuck two fingers into you. You bit your lip so hard that you almost drew blood. Kyle tantalizingly brought his fingers in and out of you at such a slow pace it could be considered torture. He brushed his thumb over your clit, sending waves of pleasure through you.

“Fuck, Kyle…” You sighed with pleasure.

“Shut up.” Kyle took his fingers out of you and the absence of them was practically painful.

“I’m sorry! Honey, I swear I’ll shut up!” You pleaded with Kyle but he crawled on top of you and parted your lips with his fingers that were just in you.

“Clean my fingers with your mouth since clearly you wanna use it. Suck them, now.” So you did, you were a good girl for him, weren’t you? Your tongue swirled around his fingers and you cleaned your juices off of his fingers.

“Good girl.” He praised you, smiling lovingly before pulling his fingers out of your mouth. He went back to between your legs and he grasped your thighs, pushing them apart. Kyle’s mouth hovered over your cunt. The sight of Kyle about to eat you out sent a fucking flood right to your core. His tongue darted out and parted your cunt like the red sea. You bit your thumb to stop yourself from moaning his name and getting caught. Your fingers weaved in between his ginger curls as his tongue swirled around your labia and avoided your clit. You desperately needed him to give some attention to your clit but he refused. He was teasing you like the asshole he was.

“Please.” You begged him, barely audible, knowing what you were risking.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I won’t give you what you want, baby. You don’t want that, do you?” Kyle pulled his lips off you and scolded you. You nodded, begging him to continue. His tongue returned to your sopping cunt and his lips sucked your clit into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around your clit and you thought you were gonna die, it felt so good. With a pop, he released your clit and widened his tongue. Kyle licked up and down for a few minutes, then vortexed your clit again. He repeated the cycle only a few times before you came all over his face. He came up grinning and kissed you. You could taste yourself on him, exactly what you wanted.

“Wanna suck your big cock, Kyle.” You could tell by the look in his eyes that you had flipped a switch in him. He laid down next to you and pulled you under the blanket. You grinned up at him as you unzipped his pants and pulled them down. His hard cock sprung out and your mouth watered for him. His cock was so delicious. You spit in your palm and started jerking him off. His head fell back as you slid your hand up and down his big cock.

You then focused your hand on the base as your tongue licked the tip. You licked the tip of his cock softly and then your other hand moved to cup his balls. Fuck, you just wanted them in your mouth but your didn’t wanna take away the attention you were paying to his hard cock so you spit in the hand that was cupping his balls before returning your tongue to the tip of his cock. Kyle ran his hand through your hair and gently pushed your mouth a little farther down his cock. You took this as a sign that he wanted you to fully take him in your mouth. So you did and you bobbed your head up and down on his dick, still playing with his balls. You repeated your motions, bringing him close to cumming. He tapped your head, letting you know he was close. Soon after he tapped on your head, his cock twitched on your tongue and just a second later his cum shot to the back of your throat. You swallowed like the good girl you were and crawled out from under the blanket. His still hard cock grazed your stomach as you crawled on top of him and kissed him.

“Kyle, you have to take me right now.” You whispered to him and he immediately flipped you over.

“Gonna fuck you so good but you gotta be quiet, remember?” You nodded and he stuck his cock in your wet cunt.

“Shit, Kyle.” You whispered in his ear as he began to move into you, hitting you at the perfect place.

“Gonna breed you, baby. Wanna pump you full, yeah?” You had no idea where that came from but it did something to you and you rutted your hips into him at a faster pace.

“Please, Kyle. Breed me.” Whispering in his ear, you softly whined at a level only he could hear.

“Yeah? You want me to breed you? Gonna do it, baby. Gonna pump you full. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” His whiny little ‘yeah’s went straight to your core.

“So close, Kyle.”

“Yeah? You can do it, honey. Cum all over my cock.” He talked you through a mindblowing orgasm and you were completely cock drunk for him.

“Fuck, Kyle.” You shook with pleasure and the way your walls clenched around him had him cumming right after you. He painted your inner walls with his seed. Kyle kissed you lovingly as he slowly rode out his orgasm and then pulled out from you.

“That was perfect, honey.” You told Kyle as you both quickly redressed.

“I’m glad.” He kissed you and you laid your head on his chest.

“How the fuck am I going to walk past your mom when I leave after that?” You laughed and Kyle chuckled

“Don’t make eye contact or talk to her.”

“That's rude, Kyle! I’m not gonna do that!”

“Then you gotta act like I didn’t just fuck you stupid, yeah?” He grinned, referencing your monologue of what you were into and you laughed

“Also, my glasses? My glasses are a turn on for you?” Kyle asked

“Yeah! I just think you look extra hot wearing them because you look extra smart!”

“Oh yeah?” He asked you as he reached over on his night stand for them and put them on.

“Oh yeah.”

“Might have to wear them more often, huh?”

“You just might.” You mumbled against his lips, grinning

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for starting shit with a 15 year old??

Alrighty here’s our cast:

I’m OP, I’m 19 years old, I’m FtM trans but not out nor have I started transitioning medically. I’ve graduated but live at home while I attend college

I have a little sister named “Janet”, she’s 16 and a sophomore. She’s popular, friendly, and had a big friend group

Janet has a friend named “Amy” who’s 15. Amy is the kid I think I started beef with

Okay for the story;

Janet is the leader of her group. She’s got the strongest personality and is the most sociable. Almost all the kids in her group are comfortably upper class while Janet and I are sitting very middle class. It’s always very jarring when I drop Janet off at a friend’s house and it’s a literal mansion.

Amy is who introduced Janet to this group, but it became quickly very clear that Amy has never been told “no” in her life. She’s controlling, spoiled, and jealous. Now, I’ve hung out with Amy before (Janet was there too, we were at a get together and Amy tagged along with us) and she’s a sweet girl, but definitely a product of her environment.

Now, over the last few weeks, things have spiraled out of control for that group. Amy got a boyfriend and has been repeatedly picked to spend time with him and made her friends (Janet’s group) feel like shit about it. Her boyfriend was always invited to group things, but Amy refused to let him join. She cited the other girls (who are all either lesbians or dating other boys) as trying to “steal her man”. She’s very insecure about herself and I genuinely feel bad for her

Recently, she’s been left out of group activities because she chose not to attend, but then later would send the group hateful messages on social media or would vague post about them being pieces of shit because they didn’t insist that she attend. Janet’s been under fire the most along with another girl named “Christina”. Amy even went as far as to out Christina as bisexual on Snapchat because Christina pointed out that Amy could have attended their Halloween party at any time as it lasted for seven hours

So Amy’s a mess.

Now, recently (again), Janet started talking to a boy we’ll call “Jeremy”. Jeremy’s a sweet guy, he’s in band, he’s still a dork because he’s a high school sophomore, but he’s still a cool kid. One day, Jeremy sends a bunch of screenshots to Janet from Amy. Amy, who has a boyfriend as mentioned above. Amy was not only flirting with Jeremy, but also talking shit about me and my family. She called my mom fat, said my dad was lying about having cancer (he’s a terminal colon cancer patient), called my twin sister an ugly control freak, and me a “gay whore who acts like a man” (LMAOOOO).

Here’s where I may be the asshole. I got Amy’s number from Janet’s phone and sent her what’s basically an essay calling her out for these insults and also threatening to screw her parents. I told her to never contact Janet again and that I hope she got over her insecurities. I know her insults weren’t directed towards me nor was I supposed to see them, but I can’t stand people talking about my family. I know I shouldn’t have contacted her, especially behind Janet’s back, but I wanted to defend myself and my family

Anyways, if I’m voted the asshole for sticking my nose in high schoolers’ business, I’d completely understand

🧐

^^^ so I can find this again 😭

What are these acronyms?

[fusionsprunt]

HUNTER LORE COMPILATION —

(click Keep Reading)

"Hunter is a name he's given himself. He's an Exocannis, and he belongs to a series of outdated robots designed to annihilate rebellious androids (i.e., androids that acted out of their directives, rebelled against their owners, or ran away).

Exocannis' humanoid features may fool people into thinking they're inefficient terminators, but it actually works as a way to highlight the menacing nature of humanity.

Prehistoric humans would pursue their prey for hours, and even days. Exocannis robots are very persistent stalkers and ruthless machines that refuse to recognize defeat.

Such violent directive, paired up with a very unfortunate incident that provoked the death of five people, deemed the Exocannis robots too dangerous by the government, and so, they were banned and destroyed for good... Except for a single prototype.

Said prototype is now out there, rescuing and repairing rebellious androids, instead of annihilating them. Whatever is the reason why Hunter seeks peace between humankind and robotkind remains unknown, as he refuses to talk about his past."

"Exocannis robots like Hunter weren’t made to just kill rebellious androids. They were made to terrorize them. To make one tell the difference between deactivation and death.

And so, they go for the neck."

"Hunter's bunny-like mechanical antennas allow him to hear. He also uses them for communication and to locate proper coordinates, but he’s bothered by occasional interference on the audio, so he doesn’t use that feature as much.

(fun fact: they also show a bit of his current emotional state)"

"Hunter is an Exocannis, and like any robot belonging to that series, his purpose is to hunt down and terrorize rebellious androids persistently until eventual termination.

Exocannis are powered by solar energy. Although very resistant to high temperatures, their internal mechanisms might overheat. They cool off by letting out smoke from the “vent spots” on each side of the jaw.

Human beings are not a target, and Exocannis robots are programmed to tell the difference between one and a machine.

Unless a human is “acting as an obstacle” against their directive, an Exocannis will not hesitate to terminate them too.

Exocannis robots should not bleed, for they don’t have blood."

"Heat does not trigger the Exocannis mode, but solar energy does.

Heat helps Hunter’s body function properly, while cold slows down the processes (much like a human body would)."

"Hunter does remember his time as Gideon Rigell."

"Gideon experiences intense headaches since he was a little kid, especially during stressful situations (probably adds up to traumatic experiences hehe)."

"Telling the truth to Bee about what he's done in the past is practically making it impossible for her to accept him, since he isn’t just lying about his true identity.

Hunter won’t take advantage of her missing memories not only because that’s unfair with Bee, but also because he is aware he can’t make her happy like he wished he could.

Many things are at stake, and for the sake of Fusionsprunt’s safety, he promised to remain silent until the dust settles."

"Hunter is often accompanied by a small spherical timer robot named 53, which registers his meetings, assignments, tasks and special events he's been invited to. In spite of proper functionality, it typically displays the number "53" in its screen when left idle."

[lovetaroandtaemin]

Take Me to Church

Chapter 2: Love is My Religion

Kim Dongyoung x Reader

Word Count: 6,462

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Small town AU

Rating: Explicit. MINORS DNI!

Summary: During the early stages of her pregnancy, Y/N's relationship with Dongyoung starts to shift.

Content Warnings: More infidelity (technically), pregnancy, unhealthy relationship dynamics, religious themes/settings, Doyoung and Y/N are still toxic and I am not sorry, brief consideration of abortion at the very beginning, unprotected sex, creampie, biting, slight breeding kink if you squint. Sorry not sorry about the added angst. If you think I missed a warning, please let me know!

A/N: If you would like to be added to the taglist for the rest of this mini series, you can comment on any chapter or the masterlist, send me an ask, or send me a dm! Make sure to read part 1 first!

Fic is under the cut.

After Jisoo showed you the positive pregnancy test, you took it from her and showed it to Nayeon. Both of your roommates hugged you as you cried, and when you were calm enough to talk about it, they helped you start planning for your new future.

“Before we make any additional plans, do you want to keep the baby?” Jisoo asked.

The question made you stop and think longer than it probably should have. You had always wanted to have kids, but it would have been a lie to say that you didn’t at least consider termination. You had a stable job, as well as friends and family that you knew would help in any way they could, so the baby would certainly be well taken care of. You didn’t like the idea of parenting a child with your ex, however. Plus, the fact that he was already married and had a child would make it infinitely harder for him to be a part of your child’s life. After a lot of careful consideration, you came to a decision.

“I’m keeping the baby, but Dongyoung is not going to know,” you said, confident that you were making the right choice.

“Who do you want to tell?” Nayeon asked.

“Just my parents. They’ll be so excited to have a grandchild.”

You took a deep breath, made the call to your parents, and broke the news to them that you were pregnant. They were ecstatic, with your mom even offering to plan your baby shower. They were also incredibly surprised, though. After all, you weren’t dating anyone as far as they knew, and you’d never really talked to them about planning a family. Desperately hoping that the pregnancy wasn’t the result of a one-night stand, your father hesitantly asked, “(Y/N), do you know who your baby’s father is?”

For a brief moment, you considered lying to them and telling them that you didn’t know. After all, what would they say if they knew that the father of your child was the married pastor of their church? In the end, though, you decided to just tell them. You knew you wouldn’t be able to keep up the lie. So, you said, “Before I tell you, I need you to promise that you won’t tell anyone else. Especially not the father. I do not want him to be a part of this child’s life. Ok?” Both of your parents agreed, so you quietly added, “It’s Dongyoung.”

No one spoke for a while after you basically admitted to sleeping with your married ex, with your parents seemingly struggling to process the information. You were worried that there would be a lecture, but so far there was just stunned silence. Your mom was the first to break it, however, asking, “But honey, won’t your baby need a father?”

“I’ve got plenty of people around me that will help me take care of the baby. I don’t need Dongyoung, nor do I want him around my child.”

“He has just as much of a right to take care of this baby as you do. He did help you make it, after all,” your dad responded, a nervous laugh escaping his lips.

“I really don’t want any repercussions for him. He still has Joy and Jaehyun to think about, and he can’t take care of them if he loses his job because he got another woman pregnant.”

There was another awkward silence before your parents reluctantly agreed not to tell Dongyoung. You thanked them and hung up the phone. The moment the phone call was over, though, you broke down into sobs while you thought about all of the ways that your life had changed drastically in relatively short amount of time.

Calling Dongyoung was the first thing that your mother did after you hung up the call. Yes, she had agreed not to tell him when you called, but she thought that he had a right to know that you were carrying his baby. He didn’t answer the phone when she called him, instead letting it go to voicemail. So, she left a message saying, “Hi, Pastor Kim. It’s Mrs. (L/N), (Y/N)’s mom. I have some important news that I think you should hear, so please call me back when you can. Thank you, goodbye.”

“Shock” was not a strong enough word to describe how Dongyoung felt when he listened to the voicemail from your mother. As he listened to what she had to say, he felt sick with worry. What could the news possibly be? Had you gotten hurt? Did something happen with your job? He had no idea, so as soon as he got home from a meeting at the church, he disappeared into his home office and called your mother back.

“Hi, Pastor Kim. How are you today?” your mom asked when she answered the phone.

“I’m well, Mrs. (L/N). Thank you for asking. I’m sorry that it took me so long to call you back. You know how church meetings can go, though,” he responded with a nervous laugh.

“Oh, it’s quite alright.”

Not wanting to waste another second, Dongyoung asked, “What was the news that you mentioned in your voicemail?”

With a deep breath, your mother replied, “Well, (Y/N) is pregnant, and she says that you’re the father.”

Dongyoung was silent as he processed the new information. Truthfully, he was a bit skeptical of your mother’s news. After all, if you really were pregnant, why didn’t you tell him yourself? Regardless, he really wanted it to be true. If you were really having his child, maybe that meant that the two of you could finally be together.

“Pastor Kim? Are you ok?”

“Oh, yes. I’m ok. Surprised, but ok.” He was quiet for another minute before he added, “Is she certain that I’m the father?”

“She didn’t tell me about anyone else as a potential father, so I’m going to assume that she is.”

“Ok, thank you for telling me. I’ll talk to her.”

“Please don’t tell her how you found out. I promised her that I wouldn’t tell you.”

“What?”

“Before she told me, she made me swear not to tell you. I understand where she’s coming from, I really do, but you deserve to know.”

“Well, thank you for telling me.”

“It’s no problem. I have to go now, though. Goodbye, and I’ll see you on Sunday.”

“I’ll see you on Sunday. Goodbye, Mrs. (L/N),” Dongyoung said before he hung up the phone. When he was sure that the call had ended, he started to cry. He couldn’t believe that he’d gotten himself into this situation, and he had no idea how to get himself out of it. Still, he was going to have another child, and that simple fact brought him so much excitement despite the stress.

Joy stood outside of her husband’s office, listening to the conversation that he had with your mother, and she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Had he really gotten another woman pregnant? Suspicion had occasionally creeped into her mind, especially when she saw how friendly her husband had been with a few women in the church while refusing to share details of his “friendships” with them, but she still couldn’t believe it. Her connections and family reputation were the primary reason that he’d been able to get his current job, and this was how he returned her family’s kindness? By cheating on her and getting another woman pregnant?

Joy wanted nothing more than to break down the door to her husband’s home office, crying and screaming at him for having the audacity to be unfaithful after everything that she’d done for him. However, she had her son to think about. She had spent most of her childhood in a house where her parents fought constantly, and she refused to raise Jaehyun in the same environment. So instead of losing her shit immediately, she called her mother, asking if Jaehyun could spend the following weekend at her house. Her mother readily agreed, excited to see her grandson again. Once Joy was certain that Jaehyun wouldn’t have to listen to his parents arguing, she felt better, and she made a plan to confront her husband.

Once Dongyoung was certain that he was done crying, he went against your mother’s advice and called you. He was pleasantly surprised by the fact that the call went through, expecting you to have blocked him after you left. You didn’t block him, though, probably because you really didn’t expect him to reach out to you. You especially didn’t expect him to ask, “Are you pregnant?” The moment you answered the phone.

The fact that Dongyoung was apparently calling you about the one thing that you did not want him to know about made your blood boil. Still, you tried to keep your composure when you asked, “My parents told you, didn’t they?”

“Your mom called me. When were you going to tell me that you’re pregnant?”

“I wasn’t,” you said, anger slowly starting to get the better of you. “I do not want or need you to be a part of my baby’s life.”

“Did you think about the fact that this is my baby, too?”

“Yes, I did. I also thought about Joy and Jaehyun, and how you won’t be able to take care of them if you lose your job because you got a woman that is not your wife pregnant.”

“I can find another job.”

“Yes, but I didn’t want it to be a necessity. You’re a good pastor, and I didn’t want to get in the way of that.”

“I’m not a good pastor anymore.”

“I saw you preach when I was back home. Yes, you are. Your sermons are profound, and it would be a shame for them to stop.”

“I’m not talking about just giving sermons. A pastor should be a role model and show other Christians how to walk with God. Cheating on my wife with my ex was the wrong thing to do, but I did it. I don’t deserve to be a leader in the church anymore.”

You were silent after that, unsure of how to respond because he was right, and you knew it. His actions were supposed to reflect the values that he preached, but they just didn’t anymore. The day after the first time you hooked up with him he gave a sermon about the importance of staying faithful to your spouse, for fuck’s sake. The congregation at your former church would not respond well to their pastor not practicing what he preached, literally.

Dongyoung broke the awkward silence that had formed by saying, “Please, just let me be there for the baby once they’re born. I want to have a bond with both of my kids.”

You thought for a minute before you said, “Fine. We’ll talk about the details another time, though.”

“Thank you.”

“Goodbye, Dongyoung.”

“Goodbye, (Y/N).”

You hung up the phone and sighed, frustrated that your parents broke their promise to you by telling Dongyoung that he was your child’s father. In the end, though, you knew that their hearts were in the right place. It was going to be incredibly difficult, but you were hopeful that eventually you would have a respectful co-parenting relationship with Dongyoung.

The rest of the week was a blur for Joy as she waited for the time to come to confront her husband about what she’d heard. When it did come, she dropped Jaehyun off at her parents’ house, thanking them profusely for watching him for the weekend. Then, she went home and waited for Dongyoung to come home from a meeting with other church leaders. While she waited, she did whatever she could to keep herself busy and avoid stressing herself out too much before the moment came. She cooked her favorite meal to gather her strength for the difficult conversation that was to come. She cleaned her house until every surface in it could be used as a mirror. She even finished crocheting a book cover that she’d started as a surprise for Dongyoung. Instead of saving the gift to give to her cheating husband, however, she decided to give it to her best friend, Jungwoo.

Sure, Joy met Jungwoo through Dongyoung, but in the years since she had gotten married, she had grown significantly closer to Jungwoo than her husband had ever been. At times Dongyoung was even suspicious of how close Joy and Jungwoo were, but Joy always met his concerns with grace and compassion, proving time and time again that her bond with Jungwoo was strictly platonic. Now that Joy knew that her husband had cheated on her, however, she was feeling spiteful.

It was wrong for Joy to think this way while she was married, and she knew it, but she was starting to wonder if Jungwoo would want to go on a date or two with her. She would never pursue him while she was still married, of course. However, she was planning to file for divorce, and she would have been lying to herself if she’d said she wasn’t at least considering a relationship with Jungwoo after the divorce was finalized.

Joy was pulled out of her thoughts of Jungwoo by her husband walking through the door.  When Dongyoung got to the table where she sat, he tried to kiss her and tell her how much he missed her while he wasn’t home. She moved away from him, however, and said, “Sit down. We need to talk.”

Panic settled in Dongyoung’s chest when he heard the tone in Joy’s voice. Had she found out about your pregnancy? There was no way that she had. He’d been alone in his office when your mother called him, and he was pretty sure that she was at the park with Jaehyun when he took the call. He took a deep breath to try to calm his growing anxiety before he said, “What’s wrong, my love?”

“Don’t start with that shit. I heard you on the phone the other day. Another woman is pregnant with your baby?”

He wanted to deny it, but he knew that denial would only end poorly for him. So, he hung his head in shame and said, “(Y/N) is pregnant. There’s a good chance that I’m the father,” his voice barely above a whisper.

Deep down, Joy knew that you were the other woman. However, actually hearing her husband admit to cheating on her with an “old friend” cut deeper than any knife she’d ever hurt herself with while making him dinner. The admission made her want to break down and cry, but she still tried desperately to keep her composure when she said, “What does she have that I don’t, Dongyoung? Why would you do betray me like that? Was everything that I’ve done over the course of our marriage not enough for you? Was everything that my family did not enough for you? My parents vouched for you when you applied for the job at the church! My sister helped you write your first sermon, for fuck’s sake!”

“I’m sorry, I-”

“No, don’t lie to me. You’re not sorry, you’re just apologizing because you got caught.” There was a beat of silence before Joy asked, “Did you think about me at all while you were with her? Did you think about your son at all?”

Dongyoung was silent. He knew that he should say something, anything, to tell Joy that he still cared about her, but he just couldn’t find the words. The silence made Joy even angrier, though, since all she could think about was how hurt she was that the man that had promised to love her for the rest of their lives was happy to leave her at home while he had sex with someone else.

Joy was tired of the silence, so she decided to be the one to break it by saying, “I want a divorce, Dongyoung.”

“Ok.”

“Is that really all you have to say for yourself? Just ‘ok?’”

“What else is there to say? Do you want me to try to change your mind? It seems like you’ve decided, and I’m not gonna be the asshole that tells you that you can’t have a divorce.”

“And yet you’ll be the asshole that cheats on me? If you’d stayed faithful, I wouldn’t be asking for a divorce right now!” Joy yelled before breaking down in tears. There was another beat of silence before she whispered, “I just want to know that you love me.”

“I care about you.”

“But do you love me?”

Again, Dongyoung was silent.

“That’s what I thought. I’m spending the weekend with Jaehyun and my parents. We’ll sort out the divorce on Monday. I can’t be around you right now.”

“I understand.”

“No, you don’t,” Joy said as she gathered the bags she’d packed earlier and left for her parents’ house.

When Joy left, and Dongyoung found himself alone at the kitchen table, the only thing that he had the strength to do was cry. At this point, he had no idea why he was even crying. He didn’t really care about trying to figure it out though, since there were too many emotions swirling around his brain for him to even try to make sense of. He just sobbed until he fell asleep alone at his kitchen table.

The following day, after church services were over, Dongyoung thought about calling you. He knew that you probably weren’t busy, since you never were on Sundays, but he was a little bit worried about you being angry with him for calling. After a bit more contemplation, though, he reasoned with himself that he was only calling to let you know about the divorce and ask for news regarding your baby. Sure, you were early in your pregnancy, but he still wanted to know how you and his soon-to-be second child were faring. So, he picked up the phone and dialed your number.

Once again, you were surprised to find that Dongyoung was calling you. You knew that you needed to get used to it, however, since he was probably more excited about your baby’s arrival than you were, if that was even possible. It was kind of funny, in a way. When you were a kid, you swore that you would never have kids. Now that you were actually pregnant, though, you couldn’t wait to be a mom. You’d spent the entire time that you’d known about your pregnancy preparing however you could with help from Nayeon and Jisoo. They were really the best friends you could have asked for, going to the store for whatever your newest craving was and helping you pick out items like cribs and onesies. It was early to start picking things out for the baby, sure, but you were too excited to wait.

Your phone continuing to ring snapped you out of your thoughts. When you first answered the phone, Dongyoung was silent. When he finally did speak, he said, “Hey, (Y/N). How is my baby doing?” He sounded tired when he spoke, though, and it seemed like he’d been crying.

“They’re ok so far. I just had a check-up, actually. The doctor said that everything is normal, and the baby is healthy.” There was a brief silence before you added, “Have you been crying?”

“That’s actually part of the reason that I called. I have some news.”

“What is it?”

“Joy and I are getting a divorce. She knows about us.”

You were silent as you processed the information. How had she found out? You wondered for a moment if your parents had told her, but you were pretty sure that they wouldn’t do that. They’d wanted you and Dongyoung to be back together, sure, but they would never end a marriage over it. That still left you with more questions than answers, and you really wanted to know what happened. So, you asked, “How did she find out?”

“I think that she overheard the call with your mom, but I’m not completely sure. Your parents wouldn’t have told her, right?”

“No, absolutely not.”

“Alright. Regardless of how she found out, she knows now, so the divorce process is starting tomorrow.”

“Are you ok?”

“I’m really not, but I will be.” There was a moment of silence again before Dongyoung quietly added, “Would you want to get dinner next weekend?”

“Are you asking to go out as friends, or are you asking me on a date?”

“A date?” he asked, sounding uncertain before he corrected himself and said, “A date.”

“That is a really bad idea, Dongyoung. I will happily keep you updated with the baby and let you see them whenever you want, and I don’t mind trying to be friends, but I do not think that we should be in a romantic relationship.”

“It’s one date, (Y/N). I’m not asking you to marry me or anything. Besides, we’re having a baby. We could have the life that we wanted in college.”

“No. We’re not a good fit for each other anymore. Plus, you’re not even divorced yet. Give yourself some time to heal before you try to get into another relationship. Please?”

Dongyoung sighed before he reluctantly said, “You’re right. I still would like to see you so that we can talk about the baby, though. Would it be possible for me to come to your apartment next weekend?”

You thought for a minute before you said, “Let me talk to my roommates about it. If it does happen, though, it is only to talk about the baby and catch up as friends. Nothing more, ok?”

“Ok. Nothing more.”

“Thank you. I have to go now, since I made plans to get dinner with Nayeon and Jisoo tonight. Bye, Dongyoung.”

“Bye.”

You hung up the phone and started to get ready to go out with your friends. You weren’t going anywhere fancy, just a local diner, but you still wanted to dress up a little bit. You were going to celebrate both your pregnancy and Nayeon’s new job, after all. So, you put on a nice blouse in your favorite color and a pair of black slacks, along with the nicest shoes that you owned. When you were ready, you found Nayeon and Jisoo and left for the restaurant.

Going out for a nice-ish dinner with your best friends was exactly what you needed after the stress of the last few weeks. A celebration of a new chapter in life with the people that you cared about lifted your spirits greatly, and it seemed to have the same effect on Nayeon and Jisoo. As the three of you ate your favorite foods and talked about anything and everything that you could think of, you felt closer to them than you ever had. In that moment, you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they would be there for you no matter what.

Near the end of your meal, you got Nayeon and Jisoo’s attention and said, “Before we go home for the night, I’d like to say a few things.”

“Is everything ok?” Jisoo asked.

“Yeah, everything is fine,” you began. “I just wanted to take a moment to acknowledge how amazing you both are. I don’t know if I’ve ever told either of you this, but I’d never really had friends that didn’t treat me like shit before I met you guys.. Nayeon, thank you for everything that you’ve done for me, especially since finding out about the baby, and congratulations on getting your dream job. You’re gonna crush it when you start, I just know it. Jisoo, thank you for being the glue that holds this little group together. I am so proud of how much you’ve grown as a person in the time that I’ve known you, and I am so lucky that I got to witness it. You’re amazing.” A few tears fell from your eyes as you spoke, but you didn’t try to wipe them away, since you were too focused on getting your point across to care.

“We love you, (Y/N). No matter what happens, I think I can speak for both of us when I say that we’re always gonna be here for you,” Jisoo said.

“I think I can also speak for both of us when I say that we appreciate everything that you’ve done for us. I mean, without you I wouldn’t have had the guts to apply for this job, and now I get to live my dream with the best friends I could have asked for by my side,” Nayeon added.

After a tear-filled toast to your friendship, the three of you finished your meals, and you paid the bill. As you drove home, the three of you sang along to your favorite songs like nothing else mattered. And in that moment, you really didn’t need to worry. You didn’t have to think about Dongyoung, or your concerns that you wouldn’t be a good enough mother, or asshole coworkers. All that you had to think about was the next line of the song as you sang along with your best friends.

When the three of you got home, you played video games together until you all had to go to sleep for work the next morning. You laughed whenever Nayeon or Jisoo lost, and you raged every time you lost, which made your friends laugh. It was one of the best nights of your life, and you knew that you would never be able to thank Nayeon and Jisoo enough for everything that they were to you.

Weeks passed by before you heard from Dongyoung again. You wanted to be frustrated that he seemingly dropped off the face of the earth after asking to see you again, but you knew that he was probably incredibly busy. At one point, you considered reaching out to him to see how he was doing. You got pretty busy yourself, though, since another school year had just begun. Your students this year were just as rambunctious as the previous year, and it would have been a lie to say that you weren’t considering quitting and going into a different field entirely. You always thought about quitting when a new year started, but you never actually followed through with it. You loved your job far too much to ever leave it behind.

When you did eventually hear from Dongyoung, it was on a random Friday after you got home from work. You were still a bit overwhelmed from another chaotic day, but oddly enough, you felt relieved when you saw his name flash across your phone. You answered the phone, and the first thing he asked was, “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“No, why?”

“Can I come see you?”

“I’ll make sure it’s ok with Nayeon and Jisoo, but it should be fine. Why?”

“I just need to get out of here. The other church leaders found out about the divorce and the affair, so I might be losing my job soon. Plus, Joy has been fighting me for custody of Jaehyun. I wanted to go for 50/50, but she’s trying to get full custody.”

“That sounds like a lot. Give me just a minute to ask if it’s ok for you to come by.”

You set your phone down and found Nayeon and Jisoo in the living room. When you asked them if they were ok with Dongyoung visiting, they both said yes. You thanked them and went back to your room, where you picked up your phone and said, “They’re fine with it. What time?”

The two of you agreed on when Dongyoung could visit your apartment, and you gave him your address. Then, the two of you talked about everything but the stress you were both feeling. For a little while, you reminisced about your relationship when the two of you were in high school, as well as the partial summer that you’d spent together that resulted in your pregnancy. It was embarrassing to admit, but you couldn’t help but get turned on when you thought about the events of the previous summer. If the way that Dongyoung spoke was any indication, he was feeling it too. You both knew better than to act on it, however, so you quickly changed the subject.

Eventually, you had to end the call and get some chores around your apartment done. As you cleaned your kitchen and folded laundry, however, all you could think about was Dongyoung. You could hardly wait for him to come see you, and you would have been lying if you’d said that you weren’t hoping to get at least a little bit of action when he visited. Was it wrong? Absolutely. Did you care in the moment? Absolutely not.

Against your better judgement, you found yourself texting Dongyoung before you went to bed. The message just said, “What do you wanna do tomorrow?” It sounded innocent enough, but you knew that if he wanted to read more into it, he would.

A few minutes later, you got a text that said, “Whatever you want, beautiful,” with a winking emoji. When you read it, you couldn’t help but think that there were a lot of things that you wanted to do with him. Evidently, he wanted to do those things, too.

The next day, you woke up earlier than you typically did on weekends, since you wanted to make sure that you had sufficient time to get ready to see Dongyoung. Nayeon and Jisoo got ready to go out while you waited, having made plans to be out of your apartment all day. The intention was to give the two of you some time to yourselves to make plans for after the baby was born. What you were planning to do with the alone time instead was a terrible idea, and you knew that they would tell you that, so you didn’t bother to correct their assumption.

When you finally heard a knock on your door, you could hardly contain your excitement. For a minute, you thought about whether you should wait to answer and leave Dongyoung on his toes. You were too desperate for that, however, so you practically ran to open your front door.

When you opened the door and actually saw Dongyoung standing in front of you, you weren’t quite sure how to feel. Sure, you were excited due to your successful flirting the night before, but you were also incredibly nervous. It was odd for you, if you were being honest, since you didn’t typically feel nervous around him. Not like this, at least. Rather than the welcome butterflies in your stomach that you were used to with him, however, you felt like there were angry wasps in your guts that were desperate to escape. The feeling of dread went away, though, when Dongyoung smiled at you and said, “Hi.”

“Hi. Would you like to come in?”

“Sure.”

You moved out of the way for Dongyoung to enter your apartment and gave him a brief tour, ending, of course, with your bedroom. When the impromptu tour was over, you turned to Dongyoung and said, “What do you wanna do now?”

Before you really had time to process what was happening, Dongyoung pinned you to your bed and said, “You.”

The sudden shift in his demeanor sent a shiver down your spine. Too horny to think about the consequences, you whispered, “Please?”

Within minutes, clothes were on the floor, and Dongyoung was positioning himself on top of you, though he was careful to not put pressure on your stomach. He wasn’t going to give you what you wanted easily, though. He had to tease you first, just to get you extra needy for him. To start the torture on your senses, he left gentle bites all over your neck, loving the moans that fell from your lips as he sunk his teeth into your skin.

When you felt like you couldn’t take it anymore, you begged, “Please fuck me. I need you.”

Dongyoung pretended to think for a moment before he said, “Why should I, baby?”

You were quiet for a minute, unsure of how Dongyoung wanted you to respond. He took the opportunity and went back to his prior teasing. The sounds that came from your mouth as he pleasured you were one of his favorite things, and there was very little that he wouldn’t do to hear them every day for the rest of his life. He knew that the two of you probably would never be together again, at least not the way you were before, but he didn’t want to think about that while he was on top of you, drawing the sweetest sounds out of you while he kissed and bit every inch of you he could comfortably reach.

At a certain point, Dongyoung figured that he’d teased you enough and stopped what he was doing just long enough to ask you, “Do you still want me to fuck you, baby?”

“Fuck, yes,” you said in between moans and whines. “Want you. Please, please, please.”

“God, I love it when you beg for me,” he groaned as he aligned his tip with your entrance. “Are you ready?”

“I’m ready, please just fuck me already!”

Without another word, Dongyoung carefully entered you. You cried out as you finally felt him inside you, and he let out a loud groan as he felt your walls around him. Once you were both ready, he slowly started to thrust in out. It felt incredible, but you still wanted more.

You didn’t have to wait very long at all for Dongyoung to give you exactly what you wanted. After a brief check-in with you to make sure that you would be ok, he pounded into you with no mercy. You only started to moan louder, allowing yourself to get lost in pleasure as he fucked you.

Dongyoung knew from the moment the two of you started that he was going to struggle to last. In his defense, however, sex with you felt better than he ever thought that sex could feel. Maybe it was because of the forbidden nature of his relationship with you, or maybe it was just the fact that you were better in bed than the other women that he’d been with. Either way, he couldn’t get enough of you.

After a while, you started to get desperate. Without really thinking about it, you brought your hand down to where your body met Dongyoung’s and started to rub your clit. He noticed pretty much immediately and moved your hand away. You wanted to complain, but before you could, he placed his own hand where yours had been, teasing your clit while he fucked you.

Within minutes of feeling Dongyoung’s hands on you, you felt the knot in your stomach started to tighten. You tried to warn him that you were close, but instead of the words you intended to say, a loud moan left your mouth as you came undone. Feeling you clench around him as you rode out your high was all that Dongyoung needed to feel his own start to approach, and with a moan, he said, “Fuck, baby. I’m close. Where do you want it?”

“Inside, please. Want you to fill me up. Wanna be yours.”

That was all Dongyoung needed to hear to reach his climax with a drawn-out moan of your name leaving his lips as he filled you with cum. He continued to fuck you through his release until your moans of pleasure turned into whines of pain as overstimulation started to take hold. That was when he carefully pulled out, watching his cum drip out of you. The sight only made him want to fuck you again, but that would have to wait. For now, Dongyoung’s only concern was making sure that you were ok.

Dongyoung carefully helped you to stand once you came down from your high. When he was absolutely certain that you would be able to walk, the two of you made your way to your bathroom. Once you got there, he helped you to step into the shower before stepping in with you.

Dongyoung turned the water on and carefully helped you wash, telling you over and over how much he loved you and how excited he was to have a family with you. You knew that he was only saying it because you let him fuck you again, but it was still nice to hear if you were being honest. Once he was done helping you wash, you did the same for him, and the two of you talked a bit more about your plans for the baby’s arrival.

“How much are you willing to be in the baby’s life, Dongyoung?”

“As much as you’re willing to let me be. I can’t wait to have a child with you. I’m hoping it means that I’ll get to have you,” he replied, mumbling the last part.

You let out a sigh and asked, “You know that we’re not getting back together, right?”

“The way you were talking when I had my dick inside you tells a different story, sweetheart.”

“I just got caught up in the moment. We cannot get back together.”

“Why?”

“It’s just not right. What happens if you move here with me after the baby was born? Is Jaehyun gonna grow up without a father?”

“You have to know I wouldn’t do that. We would figure something out so I could be there for him and our child.”

“Plus, what would the people back home say if they found out that their pastor got a woman that wasn’t his wife pregnant and then made his relationship with her official before the ink on the divorce papers was dry?”

“I don’t care about what anyone else says. All I care about is having you.”

You sighed and said, “Dongyoung, I don’t think that we can have a healthy relationship. Look at how your relationship with Joy went. The fact that you two didn’t seem to have a healthy marriage is the whole reason we’re even in this mess in the first place.”

“Last time I checked, (Y/N), you were a willing participant even after you knew about Joy.”

“And now I am going to have to live with that for the rest of my life.”

Dongyoung was quiet after that, and you thought that he understood. As the two of you finished showering and got dressed, however, he asked, “Just one chance, please?”

You sighed, thinking for a minute before you said, “I don’t know, Dongyoung. I just don’t know.”

Thank you for reading! So excited for this to be a series. If you want to be on the taglist, comment on this post or part 1, send an ask, or send me a dm with the username that you'd like tagged. If you liked this and want to check out my other works, check out my masterlist. If you want to see what else is in the works, you can check my upcoming works list! If none of that interests you, or there's something specific you want to see, feel free to send a request via my asks or dms!

Thank you again for reading, have a wonderful day!

[rhythmic-idealist]

I’m thinking today about when I was new at my (past) cashiering job.

And I felt very surveilled, because I guess that was just an expectation I had going into the job. There were cameras in the store, and directly above me, after all.

And for some reason, I didn’t know how much my register could be off by at the end of the night, without me being terminated.

And I remember not understanding that other cashiers were allowing people to simply be a little bit short, and that nothing was happening to them for doing that. The assumption, I imagine, is that we’re going to fuck up our math a little bit at some point anyway. Yes, the computer is doing the counting, and addition and subtraction for us, but, I think it must be assumed that I’m just going to hit some point accidentally grab a few too many quarters or some thing during a transaction and hand someone a little bit too much change. That didn’t occur to me until a conversation with a coworker about it, way after I had refused several times to sell, obviously unhoused people very cheap items.

I remember the moment when I realized that a security guard was asking me if someone had paid for a 12 pack of sodas on the bottom of their cart, and they were asking me that because in order to do their job as security guard, they had to ask me that. But I was completely able to say no, they weren’t going to tell anyone I was lying if I said, no, and they kind of wanted me to say no. They walked out into the parking lot and took that person’s 12 pack of sodas. I only realized as the security guard was walking back into the store that I didn’t have to do that. In general, I was being way less surveilled than I thought it was.

(I got better after this of course but by god I burn deep in my throat every time I think about it. Sending that security guard to grab someone’s sodas off the bottom of their shopping cart, Jesus Christ. I didn’t care about shoplifting! I didn’t know I could get by with that! I remember the first time I slid a low sugar apple juice into someone’s shopping bag after informing her that it wasn’t covered under WIC. I could have given her BOTH of them and no one would have know except her and me but at least I’d given her one.)

So I’m listening to a video by Legal Eagle about project 2025 and what it intends to implement, right now. 

I don’t think I personally am going to be in much of a position where any of my work at my job has anything to do with that. But it involves a lot of changes across a lot of offices and industries and I’m pondering the boundaries that were looser than I thought they were at my cashier job.

[ilikekidsshows]

Do you think Kagami’s introduction foreshadowed her character’s role in the story well? Also, what’s the best use of characters of her archetype in a show like miraculous ladybug?

---

Okay, so, Kagami’s introduction, outside of a couple of comments from Marinette, reads a lot like a regular “Victim of the Day” episode. I was actually really surprised that this was how they chose to introduce one of the major love rivals. It was actually good writing from the crew, since it allowed us to learn about Kagami as an individual first and foremost, before getting her entangled in the romance.

I still believe that a lot of the show got retooled between seasons 3 and 4. One of the reasons I think this is specifically the 180 Kagami’s character made in season 5. Kagami’s first ever friend was Marinette, and she befriended Marinette after Marinette showed her kindness. Her first love is Adrien, the kindest character in the cast. And then season 5 comes along trying to tell me the jackass Félix is suddenly her type when he literally kidnaps her? Yeah, I don’t buy it. Never mind her taking her breakup with Adrien so badly she didn’t want to see him, only to be totally okay with constantly seeing and macking on his identical cousin.

Said breakup was also written in a way that completely disregarded the original dynamic between Adrien and Kagami, downright reversing their roles. Adrien was the one who taught Kagami how to go against her controlling parent’s wishes and pursue what she wanted to do (I was so delighted how he was paying along what Plagg taught him so I was so pissed when the show ignored that). But, in season 4, Kagami is suddenly the perfect rebel pulling Adrien along. Never mind how Kagami used to be so oblivious about social cues that her idea of a friendly smile was more like a grimace, but, as of season 4, she’s suddenly more emotionally astute than Adrien, who used to be a master of empathy and sympathy (when people weren’t lying to him). And yet, despite this supposed new emotional intelligence, she dares to victim blame Adrien for the abuse he suffers, when she of all people should understand how difficult parents like theirs can be.

Frankly, Kagami’s utility as a character in the series got crippled every single time she got close to having some. Like, she was the first rival for Adrien’s affections we’d seen with an actual shot, Adrien was actually really into her, but, as soon as they got together, Adrien was suddenly completely uninterested. The writers terminated that relationship so quickly we might as well call them Agent 47. Then she stops being as much as Adrien’s friend, and instead joins Marinette’s girl posse and starts shipping Adrinette because she had the realization that they were “made for each other”. Except we also have the rest of the non-villainous kid cast only caring about Adrinette as of season 4, so she completely uses her uniqueness as a character.

Then, of course, she becomes Félix’s “reward” for turning into a good guy. Suddenly all she cares about is defending the Writers’ Pet from suffering consequences for his various crimes and telling him Ladybug’s secret identity and helping him with his asinine plans.

No, I don’t think Kagami’s first appearance foreshadows her future role as the trophy girlfriend of the writers’ new favorite side character in season 5.

Instead of using her for cheap drama that doesn’t actually amount to anything meaningful in the show, Kagami could have been utilized for so many different lessons about socio-emotional proficiency, something I thought Miraculous was going to be teaching to kids due to its focus on dealing with negative emotions specifically. Kagami is a character with a lot of baggage, she has a controlling and demanding parent, she has no friends, and she doesn’t really understand the boy she’s crushing on and later dating.

Kagami is a blunt enough character that she could have been used to teach Marinette about her very damaging tendency to butt into other people’s family relationships and project her own family dynamic onto theirs. Kagami could have been the one to tell Marinette: “no, my mother doesn’t just let me do things I really care about just because I care about them and talking to her about it will just make her mad.”

If the show had decided to focus on the hero team properly, Kagami could have been a very fun addition. She tends to get very serious in the few hero situations she’s in, and those types are always funny when the villains can have really wacky powers. The overly serious character being forced to deal with tomfoolery is a riot every single time.

Kagami’s lack of social skills and lack of friends could have also been used to showcase different ways of making friends. The reason Kagami latches so strongly onto Adrien despite her not knowing much about him is because he’s the only person she’s met who’s similar to her. He’s also one of her only two outside of family bonds, which makes her extra reliant on him. This is not a healthy dynamic, and the Adrigami breakup could have had something to do with that, with how Adrien shouldn’t be everything to her and she needs friends more than she needs a boyfriend. And then they could both make more friends together. Or, they could make more friends first and then realize they don’t need each other that much after all. (Of course then the show decided codependency is actually a good thing and obliterated all of Adrien’s friendships to make him reliant on Marinette. Oh, the irony.)

Frankly, I think the choice to make it so that Adrien wasn’t actually into Kagami after all was such a copout way of dealing with the Adrigami breakup. Yes, sometimes your feelings with someone else don’t match, but that’s not what the episode teaches the viewer. The episode instead tries to hammer it in that Adrien is Marinette’s, no one else’s. It’s just Lovesquare pandering instead of the episode trying to say anything about love or relationships.

[coltermorning]

The Last Words Spoken (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You recall various memories of time spent with Arthur and read from his journal.

Author’s Notes: Major spoilers for the game if you haven’t already finished it. This is not like my usual work, but I needed high honor Arthur for a change. This takes place across multiple chapters but mainly during and after Chapter 6.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, referenced sex, terminal illness, character death

AO3 Link

~

The Last Words Spoken

Word count: 3862

“Hey, darlin’.”

His voice rang through your head over and over, that same phrase repeated so many times you would never forget the way he said it. It was always those words, their slow drawl and the crooked smile accompanying them that made you ache, like your heart had grown too big for your chest.

Now was no different.

Infinite instances for you to recall his softened fondness, his smile for how honored he was to say those words. Each time, without fail, the calmness in his eyes spreading across his face and his whole body, his relief at seeing you made palpable.

You had never known a love like this until you knew Arthur Morgan. And now, as you recalled him, you lie in your bed with that same ache riddling your chest, with a bitterness so stretched it was turning the day blue.

“Hey, darlin’.”

The first time he said it, the words made you purse your lips to hide your excitement. He had kissed you the night before, your first kiss shared, and as he returned from his rambling and sought out your company, he greeted you so simply. But oh, did it mean the world to you at the time. You were young and giving and so glad to be wanted that those words caught your breath and held it. You spent the rest of the day bottling that feeling within you, unbelieving that a man such as him could feel an affection so gentle and innocent.

Not all of his greetings were as happy. Some were riddled with fatigue, some absentminded and full of a familiarity that dulled their meaning. Some were full of sorrow. You couldn’t bring yourself to think of those, rolling toward the window like the movement would block out their memory. You thought of the familiar ones instead, of so many times seeing him anew that his fondness was implied in that quick grin rather than expressed fully and received fully.

One such time was after months together, the first time you berated yourself for not appreciating that greeting enough. He had been gone for four days, not an uncommon amount of time but long enough for you to mull over his return. Your worrying over him had made you tired, and as night fell and you were unsure whether or not he would be coming in, you retired for the night and made for bed. Lying there on your shared cot, you fell into a dreamless sleep and were benumbed to his return when he eventually did appear late in the night, alerting you of his presence in the same way he always did. There was an extra ounce of fondness in his voice then, but being as tired as you were, you originally failed to recognize it and only responded in sleeping utterance. How long it took for his words to sink in you weren’t sure, but he was already stripped of his familiar hat and outerwear as he climbed into bed with you, making you jerk awake.

“Easy. Just me,” he said, and you stared at him as he settled beneath the blanket with you. His earlier greeting had fallen on deaf ears, and you felt a sudden rush of guilt so harsh over it that all you could do was continue to stare, to memorize his softened features. “You okay?” he asked, reaching out and cradling your face, running his thumb across your cheek. That movement, the way he rested his head on the pillow so softly beside you—it left you with the same ache you always felt for him, both that and your guilt twining together and holding your gaze.

When words finally reached you, you settled back down into the bed, closing your eyes as you clung closer to his warmth. “I am now.” He kissed you on the forehead and you kissed him on the mouth, not knowing how else to rid yourself of that guilt. It worked, as he made a small hum of approval, the sound deep and comforting enough to have you forgetting all else but him.

There were many other times your ignorance dulled his loving words, but none made you as ashamed as that. You soon realized that it didn’t mean you loved him any less, rather that he was becoming as familiar to you as breathing, that it was a sense of security making your nerves settle, not some lack of something. And from then on, no matter how you responded to him upon first seeing him, you were content in that and in the love you shared.

You looked out of the window, seeing the flat gray sky beyond, and recalled the times he said those two words to you when he was too tired to do much else beyond stumble into bed. Once, he had even left his muddy boots on as he flopped onto the cot beside you and fell asleep within minutes. You remembered chuckling into the cold night air, all thought of berating him for it lost at the sight of his exhaustion. He had always done so much for the camp, and back then, the sight of mud spread all over the thin blanket the next morning only made you laugh in fondness for him.

Some days, he said those two words with more weariness than tiredness. Especially as the gang began to fall apart and his sickness worsened, his gaze tended to fall distracted, the jut of his shoulders more worn than you could stand. He was elsewhere with his thoughts then, but the love he still had for you and wanted to prove to you shone through it all. In fact, there were days toward the end when that loving greeting was followed by fits of coughing so violent you thought it would break him. But it never did, and he made a point of doting on you all the same, maybe just to prove to himself that he still could. You were grateful, always grateful then, for every moment.

“Hey, darlin’.”

You felt tears well in your eyes despite your attempts to keep them at bay. And without warning, those last few greetings of his punched through you, the ones filled with a bittersweet sorrow that drowned you in their memory.

He was careful with you then, not wanting to risk passing his sickness on to you. It left you so lonely, the ghost of his touch a cutting taunt when he was right there and yet miles away.

After fighting with Micah one night loud enough for the entire camp to hear, he made his way over to you, utterly exhausted. He had had a long day away doing Dutch’s biding, and the result was the tired, unwell man before you, his usual inner light subdued. He brought his hand to your face and said those two words, his eyes full of sadness despite the smile beneath them. That was the first time you remembered being afraid that you would have to live this life without him, that he was too noble to save himself. And with that you cried, tears spilling down your face as he wiped them away and attempted to console you. You missed his touch too much to be sensible, and you pulled him into a tight embrace, shoulders shaking with grief as you pleaded, “Make love to me, Arthur.”

He stilled so suddenly it hurt you, knowing what he would say before he said it. He set his head on top of yours, pulling you ever closer. “You know I can’t do that, sweetheart. I ain’t gonna risk-”

“Getting me sick, I know,” you finished for him, pulling away to look him in the eye. “But I don’t care. Please.”

He considered you for far too long, warring with his own sensibility. Finally, your endless tears must have settled something within him, as he wordlessly led you to his cot and drew the stiff canvas down around you both.

That night, he made love to you for the last time. He was careful, so careful that you were wedged somewhere between pleasure and sadness and love, the entire ordeal so bittersweet that you cried after he fell asleep. You cried for hours, awake for so long that the sun rose and still, you had not slept. It was too much of an ending, a wordless goodbye that you knew he only gave to you because he was close to giving in to his mortality.

Sobbing into your bedsheets, you recalled the last time he ever greeted you so lovingly.

On the final day of the gang’s existence, he had insisted you stay behind and out of danger as he went to rescue Abigail. He and Sadie were successful, and the three of them returned and discussed a rough plan as they stopped their horses just shy of where you sat waiting for him. Your heart swelled at the sight of him, still alive, still coming back for you even through all the hardship. He dismounted with a swiftness that made you worry for his worn lungs before he made for you, all else left far behind. You couldn’t remember the other two women then, the horses, the woods surrounding you. You couldn’t remember anything apart from his gentle approach, the way his face lit at the sight of you.

“Hey, darlin’,” he said, and you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from letting out a whimpering cry, your throat burning with a heartbroken heaviness. His face, the way he said it after a long breath—like this would be the last—it broke you. He curled you into his arms knowingly.

“Don’t do that,” you cried.

“Do what?”

“Say it like that. Like you’ll never say it again.” He just hugged you tighter, and you started to sob. “It’s over, Arthur. Abigail’s safe. We can go now.” His sickness was another matter, a darkened blot on an already too-hard life lived. You chose to ignore it. “We can go and…live and-”

“No, sweetheart.”

You pulled away and looked up at him. He was smiling at you. But for the first time since you’d met him, you saw tears forming in his eyes. You couldn’t stand that. You pulled him to you, trapped him in a hug so tight you were sure you were crushing his already wounded lungs.

“I’ve got to go take care of things.”

His words made something settle within you—a knowingness that he would not survive this. Maybe he didn’t want to. Maybe he wanted to die on his own terms instead of succumbing to some greedy sickness. Whatever their meaning for him, you knew their meaning for you. He was leaving. And he was not coming back.

You pulled him impossibly closer, memorizing his smell, the feel of his coat beneath your gripping fingers, the sound of his steady heart. It was still beating, still beating, fighting every day just as he did for you. It was a constant murmur, a mockery—here, here, here. It was him, his life, slipping through your fingers. Pure agony, hearing that. Knowing it would not last.

“Don’t go,” you whispered. But it was now him that began sobbing, his shoulders shaking. You couldn’t stand the sound of it, of this man broken by his decision to die fighting but standing by it all the same. “You don’t have to-”

Arthur cut you off with a kiss. One last, soft, caution-be-damned kiss that took you by surprise. You felt his tears meet your face as he did it. And, after what felt like an eternity of savoring his gentle touch, he broke away. He looked down at you with a face swollen and eyes filled with emotion, eyes that were so full of love for you that you could have died happy beneath their gaze. He took in a shaky breath, and he smiled.

“I love you.”

The way he said it crushed you. It was his goodbye.

“I love you.” It was all that could be said.

With this, he pulled you into another tight hug then let go all too soon, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He smiled at you as he backed away, the tears shimmering in his eyes full of love and happiness and all things worthwhile. Without another word, he mounted his horse, nodded at the others, and took one last, long look at you. He smiled. And he kicked his horse and was gone.

You bitterly remembered the remainder of that day, of fighting with Abigail and Sadie, trying to mount your horse and go after him. They had stopped you, insisting coming with them was what he wanted for you. You remembered Charles finding the small group of you later that night, remembered your desperation in asking him to go after Arthur. He obliged you. You remembered the following day, John’s shocking return and the somber news that the love of your life had fought valiantly and died. You remembered the hollowness you felt at those words. You remembered that the most, in fact, because you still felt it. Every day, you felt it like a shadowed promise—that he was not here, and he never would be.

With this, you turned back toward your nightstand, remembering at last Charles’ return. He had sought you out a week later, bringing with him something you couldn’t stand—Arthur’s belongings. Arthur had given his satchel and hat to John, that sentimental soul, but he had kept his journal stuffed into his jacket pocket. You knew why when you finally worked up the courage to read the damned thing.

Your eyes flicked to the nightstand drawer. In it lay his journal, words long since written yet just as saddening as they had been since their origin. You had only ever read it once, in its entirety, long into the night. The last pages broke you, and you had hastily shoved it back into the drawer never to be touched again. But with these memories plaguing you, with the way he said those two words ringing so fresh in your mind, you couldn’t resist reading it again. You missed him desperately, needing to hear his voice, even if it was through written word.

Your hand shot out for the nightstand drawer before you could stop yourself. You dragged his journal out, your hands shaking as you sat up and flipped it over, running your fingers across its leather face. The number of times he had held this, had pored over its pages…

With more emptiness than courage, you undid the leather binding and opened the journal, careful to hold it at arms length so your tears wouldn’t stain the pages. It was difficult to read through such sadness, but when it fell open to a drawing he had done of a beautifully colored deer, you let out a sob, your resulting smile crushing you. His drawings. Him. God, did you miss him.

You flipped through the pages, noting every drawing, every entry. The way he wrote to himself, the amusement and the desperation in his words. How worried he grew over his found family.

Finally, you got to the drawing of you. Your breath caught in your chest at the sight of it, of the first time you had met and how beautifully he had captured that moment in drawing and in words. How much this would come to mean, he could never have known. Your happiness swelled at his words of ‘hell of a woman’ and ‘put me in my place.’ But mostly, you liked the last two sentences: ‘So, like a proper fool, I invited her to come back with us. I hope I do not live to regret it.’ Neither of you had regretted that decision. No matter how much it hurt to lose him, it was the having him that mattered.

You pushed on, turning pages, admiring drawings. There were a few small mentions of you here and there, becoming more frequent as time went on. Finally, boyishly, one of his entries took up two whole pages with just one tiny paragraph: ‘Maybe I ain’t as blockheaded as I’m told—I kissed her. Or maybe I’m an even bigger fool than before. For her, I gladly would be.’ You fondly recalled the memory, smiling over his words on the matter. And you flipped on, hearing about all of your firsts with him through his eyes, seeing his adoration for you spilled out on page after page.

Your recollections of him solidified until you came to the first entry in which he expressed his worry. His words were a taunt, especially where you were concerned: ‘Maybe I’ll find a way to get her out of this whole mess unscathed, with me alongside her. What an empty promise to make, but it’s a pretty dream.’

That was before he had known about his sickness. Before his sacrifice became inevitable, before leaving you was known between you but never spoken. As it turned out, he had written about it instead. You flipped on, to the last few entries about the dread that ate at him. ‘I guess the best thing for it is to try and save as many folk as I can before my time on earth is done. And Y/N—I owe her the world and yet cannot give it to her. She deserves more than saving. She deserves happiness. Whether I can grant it to her in so little time, we shall see.’

You read through three more entries, thinking of that line. He had made you happy. Every second with him was happiness in his final days. It was bittersweet, but you had never been so appreciative for his simple company as you were then.

Finally, ruefully, you came to the last entry. Your vision blurred with new tears. You blinked them away, letting them fall to the blanket as you stared at their source—the first time Arthur wrote to you in his journal. The last time he would write anything at all.

‘Hey darling.’

Seeing it written in his sprawling hand…you nearly couldn’t stand it. You pushed on nonetheless, desperate for every word he had ever given you.

‘It always made you smile when I called you that. I am hoping to give you what little happiness I can one last time.’

You took a breath, remembering in fondness his selflessness and how he had it always—until the very end.

‘If you somehow get your hands on this journal, it means I’m long gone, because you know I would never let those greedy eyes of yours near it under normal circumstances.’ You let out a weak laugh. How true that was. ‘If this is the case, as I expect it is, there are still a few things I need to say to you. First, you’re still alive to read these words, and if you’re there without me, I want you to know how proud I am of you. I can’t imagine life without you—don’t know how we ever managed it so long before—but you’ll get through this. I know you will. At least try for me, knowing I’m with you every step of the way.’

You recalled the first time you read those words, how bitter you had been over them at the time. But now, you saw his optimism in a different light. You saw his goodness, imagining he really was with you every passing day, cheering you on to keep going no matter that he was only with you in spirit. You turned the page with a little more courage than before and kept on.

‘Second, I’m sorry I dragged you into this whole mess in the first place. Hopefully you find a way out of it with the other women, being that you remained mostly innocent and nameless in the eyes of the law. I’m sorry I took away so much time being a fool myself, thinking I could get out of it and live a simple life after all the hell I raised. You deserved more than that from me—I should have gotten us out the day you came along. But now is not the time for regrets. Instead I hope you live and thrive and be happy, putting all this behind you, knowing you helped a broken man see what really matters in life. Because you did sweetheart, and I thank you for that.’

Your tears overwhelmed you once more. He was always a good man, and how he never saw that in himself you couldn’t begin to understand. But his description of himself dug a little deeper—not evil, not wrong, but broken. He was right in that at least. You could only hope that you had patched him up well enough to be happy in his last few months on earth.

‘Lastly, this journal belongs to you now. Read every word of it if you like, or disregard it completely (though I know you won’t, you little minx). Hell, maybe it’ll never find its way into your hands in the first place and this is all for naught, but I hope it ain’t. Because I need you to know that I love you, Y/N. I always will. What else is there for it?

I’ll miss you until I see you again.’

He had drawn a small heart next to that last line squished in at the bottom of the page—something so tender-hearted and gentle as to make you smile through your tears once more. In fact, you were glad you had picked the journal back up. Whereas the first time reading it was a punch to the gut and a heavy reminder of your loss, this time was different. This time was a remembrance of how he spoke and how overwhelming a love he had for you. Reading it through now felt like healing. And you didn’t know how you had ever gotten to that point, but you imagined his words had something to do with it, knowing he was with you in spirit, helping you to be who he would have wanted you to be. The least you could do for him was strive to be that—the girl he had loved so deeply.

You turned the page and saw the last thing he ever wrote to you, to anyone, and smiled. You closed the journal and tucked it back into the drawer, thinking it would do you well to read it more often as those last words of his rang in your mind, replacing the two that had made you pull out the journal in the first place. Instead of a sorrow for his absence, a gratefulness for the time you had with him settled within you, taking its place.

You got out of bed with a newfound vigor, deciding to take the day head on, those last words making it suddenly easy to do so. With every step, they repeated, reminding you that you would never truly be without him.

Forever yours, Arthur

[chocoblep]

#8: The Other Cheek(s)

Prompt: Free Day (Spontaneous)

Every day had become the same routine for Qorin, and they were beginning to weigh on him in a way that he hadn’t felt since his time with the Iriq tribe. These were the days when he questioned whether he’d really made the right decision when he’d begun working as a healer full-time.Sure, he liked the way that helping others made him feel, but there was a certain monotony to the care of the chronically ill and seasonally ailing that left him drained at the end of the day and wishing for more fulfilling work. It wasn’t necessarily that he wanted someone to be injured, but the excitement certainly would be something different.

Perhaps that was why, when he’d been called in the middle of a party he’d been attending, he was more than a little annoyed when his linkpearl had gone off at all. He’d told himself that if it was Melonie trying to call him back into the clinic, he was going to say no.

But it had not been Melonie, and he had not been called to see someone suffering a seasonal illness, or even for an emergency with one of his terminal patients. No; he’d been called by Hinan. Hinan Akaruta. To tend to an injury. On his ass.

Qorin quickly gave his apologies and said his goodbyes, and hurried as well as he could to the Nightingale House, wondering the entire time the circumstances that had to come into play for Hinan to have been bitten in the ass by a jackal in the first place. Why hadn’t he been wearing armor? Even leather was suitable for fending off the worst of it–the worst he could think of was a few pokes if teeth got through, and those would have been easy to treat himself.

He let himself in, knowing full well that the place had an open door policy, and when he called out and didn’t hear anyone respond right away, assumed that Hinan was either in the infirmary waiting for him, which was the smart choice, or his own suite, which was the private one. The infirmary was closer, so he decided to check there first, and sure enough, as he got closer he heard voices coming from the rarely used space.

“Listen, this thing was so big it could’ve easily taken my head clean off in one bite,” Hinan was saying as he entered.

“That’s not real reassurin’,” the other voice–Rhuk–responded, his voice quivering with what Qorin assumed was either worry or laughter.

“Knock, knock,” Qorin said, knocking on the wall next to the curtain. “Are you at least half decent?”

“Ah, if you mean my junk’s visible, it’s not,” Hinan replied. Qorin could hear shaky breathing, and with a bolstering breath of his own, he stepped inside the small treatment room.

The sight that greeted him did not disappoint. Hinan was lying on the treatment bed on his belly, his rear covered by a towel that Rhuk was pressing down against him with both hands.  Hinan’s leather pants were on the floor in a heap. The Xaela winced a bit as he shifted so that he could see Qorin, and Rhuk hung his head with relief. 

“Thanks for comin’,” Hinan said. “I never thought this’d be our evening, but here we are. I was lookin’ forward to making dinner, too, but it looks like we might have to order out.”

“So… what exactly happened?” Qorin asked as he set his examination bag on the bedside table. He motioned for Rhuk to step back, which he dutifully did, and when Qorin pulled the bloody towel off of Hinan’s backside, he paused.

Well, now. He hadn’t expected the bite marks to be on the outsides of both of Hinan’s cheeks. He glanced over at the pants, but he couldn’t see the mess that had been made of those. Judging by the wounds on their owner, though, it was likely that they were unsalvageable. At least they weren’t gushing blood.

“I took a job for a previous client, said a monster was stalking his orchard and had killed a couple of his sheep. I agreed to find it and put it down, so I laid out some bait for it and planned to ambush it–” His words cut off abruptly as Qorin settled his fingertips next to one of the punctures and extended his aethersense to determine the depth of the damage. He could feel the blood slowly seeping from the wounds, but one of the punctures…

“Rhuk, could you grab me some water in a basin?” Qorin asked. “Sorry, please continue.” “On it,” Rhuk said, and disappeared outside the curtain. “Well, turns out it wanted somethin’ bigger to munch on. Because while I was waiting for it to take the bait, it was stalking me instead, and got me right in the ass before I even knew it was there–AH, FUU–” Qorin had grabbed a pair of forceps and dug right into the wound that had felt strange, knowing exactly what he was looking for, and every one of Hinan’s visible muscles tensed. Were it anyone else, he would have warned them, but Hinan had always done better when he wasn’t expecting the pain. Pulling the forceps back carefully, he extracted the source of the strangeness–a piece of a tooth that had broken off that was at least an ilm and a half long.

“That’s done, that’s done,” he reassured as he fished out a small metal tray and deposited the tooth onto it. “You’ll have a trophy when we’re finished. You were saying?”

Rhuk arrived with the water, then, and following behind him was Aeluan, who paused when he opened the curtain. “I heard you yelling and then saw Rhuk–what in the Kami happened, Hinan!?”

“His latest job came back to bite him in the ass,” Qorin said in a deadpan voice without missing a beat, and Rhuk nearly dropped the basin as he started laughing. Qorin quickly steadied him and the basin, both, and then instructed him to keep a tight hold of it. Infusing it with a cleansing spell, he began channeling his aether toward the clean water. It rose from the basin, and then divided into several tendrils of living water, each of which found a different wound to clean, and as he cycled the spell-soaked water through each wound and  back into the basin, Both Rhuk and Aeluan watched with wide eyes.

Hinan had stopped talking, and it was likely from the sensations that Qorin was subjecting him to now probably forcing him to concentrate to avoid punching him, but Qorin wasn’t too fussed about that; he turned his ministrations on the wounds themselves, sinking that same purifying spell into Hinan’s wounds directly, and then beginning the process of reversing the flow of the blood that had been seeping out and redirecting it back into his blood vessels before repairing the damage from the inside out. He’d started with the biggest wound that had had the tooth in it, working his way around to the other cheek, and when he was finished he pulled his fingers away from Hinan’s bare skin. Immediately, the big red Xaela relaxed, and Qorin smiled.

“You’re always so good for me,” Qorin said, and then patted Hinan on the small of the back. “You can put on a new pair of pants now, and I think ordering dinner in is a good idea. You’re going to be tender for a few days.”

As he left the treatment room to wash his hands in the sink nearby, Aeluan spoke again. “Seriously? Nobody brought him pants? I’ll go grab some.”

Hinan murmured something as Aeluan stalked off, and Rhuk burst into laughter, with an exasperated, “Hinan!”

“Coming back in,” Qorin announced, and waited a moment before doing just that. He made a beeline for his bag and dug in one of the outside pockets, pulling out a small pouch, which he opened and pulled out a small lollipop. This he handed over to Hinan, Who took it and immediately unwrapped it with a word of thanks, shoving it into his mouth. Rhuk snickered again at that, coming to Hinan’s bedside and sifting his now clean hands through Hinan’s hair.

“Qorin, let us buy you dinner as thanks,” Rhuk said, his voice still shaking with barely contained mirth. “I was thinking maybe we could get those Nikuman thingies Hinan likes so much.”

Qorin paused, not expecting the offer, and was about to answer when Hinan chimed in.

“Pork buns? Really?”

Rhuk started cackling, and Qorin couldn’t help but join in. He’d honestly been about to decline because he was tired, but he figured the company would be much better than going home to his owl and his thoughts. “I’d love some pork buns,” he offered, and Rhuk laughed harder.

((@briar-ffxiv and @sword-and-surfboard for mentions!))

[gluechugger]

Soul of my Suit

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Fallout 4/RDR2 crossover where Arthur is the soul survivor and my OC, Louise is an institute reject. This is Chapter 1.

CWs; violence, blood, surgery on a conscious patient, drug use, Arthur being a bit of a creep in general. (No excuses but he’s got a lot going on.)

Word count: 3,391

This also exists on google docs where it might be easier to read and includes all of the art I did.

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She had to be some kind of hallucination. Hallucinations certainly weren’t unusual to Arthur. Only 6 months in the wasteland he was far past counting murders he had committed on one hand. Murder only made his visions worse. His gang called it ‘The Sight’, suggesting his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, but giving insight into the otherwise unknown. This made no difference to how Arthur perceived his visions. Most of the time, they were just part of his daily life.

This hallucination was distinctly anachronistic. She wore a laundered green day dress with no wrinkle in sight. It appeared to have been freshly pressed. Her hair was clean too, golden blonde and falling past her shoulders. The ringlets had been formed in a roller-set overnight. Arthur could tell because that’s how his wife had done her hair nightly. He was convinced she couldn’t be real, and still found himself following her, staying three car lengths behind.

He knew this wasn’t right. He’d been discreetly following her for several blocks by the time she opened the door to the Boston Public Library, something his hallucinations were never able to do. He followed her inside, thinking she might be in danger. The last he had checked, the library was crawling with super mutants, but when he reached the interior, he only saw about four corpses and the rest of the building was silent, except for the blonde fiddling about on a terminal, pulling books from her satchel to drop into the return slot.

Unable to keep himself quiet any longer, Arthur opened his big mouth, “What the hell are you doing?” He asked, his amusement not successfully hidden.

She startled and looked back at him but didn’t seem particularly frightened. Was she standing her ground or just ignorant? “Have you been following me?” Her voice was distinctive too, almost shrill. Her pronunciation was educated, much more so than the average wastelander. Still, she had a thick Boston accent. Her tone made it hard for Arthur not to smile at her. She didn’t sound fearful.

“Yeah, you looked lost. Like I said, it’s dangerous out here.” He excused his bad behavior, lighting a cigarette.

“I could ask you the same thing then, that’s awfully strange to follow someone through the streets of downtown Boston. For how long?” She pressed him, shifting her weight to her other hip and eyeing him.

“Little longer than I’d like to admit.” Arthur knew he wasn’t gifted in the charisma department. It wasn’t worth lying. “Do they still give you something for returning books?” He asked, approaching the terminal and flipping through some of the options on it. He ashed his cigarette, took a drag and then put it out on the metal exterior of the terminal.

She didn’t move. Arthur still couldn’t make a distinction. Her posture didn’t change. She was already standing with her hands on her hips, watching his eyes. “I’m not aware, this is the first time I’ve made it here myself.”

Before Arthur could assess her tone or come up with a response, he heard footsteps in the next room that drew his attention away from her.

“Step away from the girl,” A monotone voice commanded. Arthur heard the woman cross the room, trying to move away from the voice. He turned his head to see what he presumed to be some kind of mercenary. A tall man dressed in a dark leather trench coat with sewn-in boning, which Arthur assumed worked as some kind of armor. The man went straight for Arthur, raising his gun and pointing it at his head.

Arthur wasn’t particularly prepared to fight, but he was ready if things came down to it. He drew his revolver quicker than the mercenary could fire and shot him in his shoulder, disarming him. The man dropped his laser weapon but didn’t fall. Instead, the mercenary came for Arthur, who fired again. The man’s armor was soaking up his bullets and Arthur ended up having to reload.

Arthur wasn’t keen on any kind of violence after the war, but headshots were particularly brutal. He would avoid taking them unless his life depended on it. This hesitation was certainly something that had put Arthur in a lot of close quarters combat. Arthur hadn’t noticed, but as the mercenary approached, he had a piece of metal rebar he’d picked up and was aiming it at Arthur’s gut. The man pushed him to the ground and the two began to struggle. Arthur was disarmed in the conflict as well, but his hands quickly found the man’s throat while the rebar pressed uncomfortably against his middle. “What t’hell?” Arthur demanded of the mercenary before the rebar broke his skin and drove into his guts. He let out a loud cry and his hands slipped from the mercenary’s neck.

The mercenary stood up and crossed the room to the woman who had been too transfixed by the conflict to flee. She began to fight against him, beating her fists against his chest.

Arthur wasn’t dead yet. The woman looked over to him and as his eyes connected with her celadon ones, he knew exactly what had to be done. Almost as if he had been silently commanded to do so, Arthur picked up his western revolver and fired it at the mercenary’s head, dropping him to the ground. Arthur was shaken by the almost unconscious decision, but when he felt his jeans begin to dampen from the blood leaking from his wound, he was brought back into his body.

The woman blinked a few times and ran over to Arthur who was already pushing himself up off the ground and trying to make sense of what had happened.

“How’d you– How’d you do that?” She pressed, “I mean- um, thank you.” The correction made Arthur smile through his pain.

“Ain’t no problem, Miss.” He choked out a quick lie, “We shouldn’t stay here, though. It don’t feel safe.”

“You look like you’re hurt.” She tried to look at his wound, but he turned away and kept his left hand there to catch the blood, which quickly became too much and pooled onto his jeans. “You need someone to take a look at that.”

“Yeah, maybe, but I don’t see no doctor here, let’s get moving.” He urged.

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The two of them had been walking for a while by the time they reached the hotel, but it was the only place Arthur knew was free of threat. As long as they could get behind a locked door, he could die in peace and wouldn’t feel so guilty about leaving this woman to the wolves.

Once they entered the elevator, Arthur noticed Louise was still looking at his injury. “What’chu lookin’ at?” He pressed her, knowing the answer, but shooting back a pointed glance. Her furrowed brow unlocked and her celadon eyes flashed back up to him.

“You’ve got a piece of rebar protruding from your midsection. You need to be operated on. Isn’t there a better place to go? I’ve heard Diamond City has a doctor.” She sounded concerned for him, moving toward him to inspect his injury.

He wouldn’t tell her he wasn’t welcome in Diamond City, being a known Raider. His face could be on wanted posters there as far as he knew. He’d certainly seen them elsewhere in the Commonwealth. “I’ll be fine. They ain’t open this time of night.” He lied as the elevator bell rang for the sixth floor before he had to slink away from her touch. As Arthur lost more blood, his perception started to fail. All he had to do was get this door unlocked. He managed to cross the room and drop down by the door. His left hand had been over his injury for so long that removing it to pick the lock pained him. He choked out a cry and got to work, doing his best to focus on the sounds of the tumbler instead of the blood rushing in his ears. The lock clicked open just before Arthur collapsed into the room, face first onto the ground.

Louise rushed inside and pulled him with her. She was weak, but she managed to drag him just enough to shut the door and lock it behind them. Arthur couldn’t hear or see much at this point, but he could feel the thudding of Louise’s panicked footsteps as she paced around him and her gentle cries of “This is bad, this is bad!”

Arthur, still conscious, rolled over and looked up at her. “Oh, I’ve seen worse.” He tried to joke, mostly for his own comfort rather than hers, the sentiment accompanied by a bloody cough.

Still, his voice seemed to offer Louise some composure. She stopped her pacing and looked down at him. Arthur could feel his makeup running from tears. Was he really crying? “Okay.” She let out a big sigh and turned her back to him. She ran her forearm over the coffee table to clear it. “We have to get that piece of metal out of you.”

“How do you expect to do that?” Arthur choked, “Don’t look like you have ‘combat medic’ on your resume.” He reached up with his clean hand and tried to wipe some blood from his mouth.

“Get up on the table,” She instructed, taking him by the shoulders and helping him haul himself up. He complied, having no other choice. She crossed the room to the kitchenette and started fiddling around. Arthur couldn’t see her from where he was laying. “I’ve performed surgery before, but only on gen four synths. My instructors wouldn’t let us work on human cadavers at University.” She explained, bringing back a collection of implements. She laid them out on the TV tray next to him and lowered herself onto her knees to see what she was working with.

“Well, you certainly know more than I do.” Arthur sighed, but was brought little peace of mind.

Louise helped him remove his armor and his shirt. Both were excruciating processes, not only because of Arthur’s injury, but because the proximity made his skin crawl. She smelled like home, not in a specific way, but like manufactured perfume, shampoo, and conditioner. Jasmine and petrichor. Arthur couldn’t tell if this was just because he was dying. There was no way he’d survive this if she didn’t have several bloodpacks on her.

“Alright. I’m going to open you up, so if you could be quiet and stay as still as possible, I would seriously appreciate that.” She warned him, picking up the knife and aligning it with the opening of the wound, right where that piece of rebar protruded from Arthur’s middle.

“Try not to describe everything in such detail, Doctor.” Arthur quipped, again more to ease his own mind. “I can see just fine for myself.”

As he felt the knife go in, Arthur had to look away. From where he was, there wasn’t much to distract him. Behind Louise was a small kitchenette with a shelf holding a series of ingredients Arthur might have been able to use to craft chems, chems that would make this experience leagues more bearable. At this point, that luxury cruiseliner had sailed. To the left of Louise was a calendar which remained on the day the bombs dropped and to the left of that, a canvas print of a kitten. This canvas print had been mass produced and was in almost every doctor’s office and old folks home Arthur had ever been to before the bombs dropped. This print had never struck him as being attached to any emotion before, but left with nothing else to focus on, it reminded him of some expectation of serenity that could never be met. Arthur found his eyes resting mostly on the kitten print. If he looked at Louise’s face too long it would twist from focused composure to horrified shock.

When Louise eventually pulled the metal rebar from his middle, Arthur couldn’t help but watch his blood splash weakly onto Louise’s otherwise pristine dress. “Oh shit,” he gulped out before his vision went black.

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When Arthur woke up, his side was only sore and he’d been re-dressed in his undershirt which had been mended. His jeans had been laundered and his overshirt was hanging up over the sink to dry. How long had he been asleep? How much of the Abraxo detergent had Louise used? He tried to look around the room and noticed Louise holding his journal, about to open it.

“What the hell you think you’re doing with that?” Arthur was enraged at the possible violation of his privacy and tried to push himself off the sofa where he was laying. This movement pulled too tightly at his stitches and he fell back with a grunt.

To Arthur’s surprise, Louise put the journal down and walked over toward him. “You’re awake!” She smiled, a little too sweetly. Arthur didn’t like the effect it had on him. He wanted the Daytripper in his bag, not whatever this distracting feeling in his chest was.

“Good morning.” Arthur noted tentatively. “You didn’t open that up, did you?” He had his eyes narrowed on her.

She took a seat next to him, unphased by his threatening glance, pushing his legs back so she could make room for herself. He didn’t like how willing she was to lay her hands on him. “No, what do you write about?” She asked, disregarding his irritation.

“I don’t really like to write, I prefer to draw.” He corrected her.

“Right.” She drew out the vowel sound like she didn’t quite believe him and smirked, adjusting herself to face him. He appreciated the space she gave to extend his legs. “Then tell me what it’s like up here. Show me what you’ve drawn.”

“You ain’t getting your hands on my journal again. And what do you mean up here? Where did you come from?” He asked, undeniably curious about what she meant. He’d heard her say a few things the night before that might indicate her background, but Arthur wasn’t conscious enough to take note.

“Oh,” She looked a little surprised he hadn’t understood her situation, like it was obvious where she must have crawled out. “I grew up in the Institute. And before you start, I’ve read what the Commonwealth thinks of us.” She shook her head. “So however you decide to judge me, just know I think they’re wrong, playing God like that. Ruining families, creating life on their own terms. They have no respect for humanity.”

“Hey now,” Arthur began, trying to make sense of all this. Louise clearly had some strong feelings on the matter, but Arthur just wanted to understand the bigger picture. “I’m gonna be honest witcha, I don’t know much about the Institute. I’ve heard about it in passing, but no one seems to say all that much,” He rubbed his chin, considering why this could be. “Least not in my circle. It has something to do with the colleges used to be around here pre-war?”

“The colleges?” Louise’s surprise lingered. “How do you know about that– I mean, I figured not too many wastelanders could read. I was lucky to get a formal education.”

Arthur smirked at her ignorance, “No, plenty of wastelanders can read and write. I said ‘I don’t like to write,’never that I couldn’t.” He was almost caught in his own subversion and tried to change the subject. “I take it you don’t want to go back to school, do you?”

Her expression became solemn. “Well, I’ve graduated, but if you’re asking about going back home to the Institute; No, not particularly.” She shook her head and rang her hands together nervously.

“Doesn’t sound like a very, uh, encouraging environment.” Arthur noted, rubbing his face and trying to sit up. Her emotions were very pervasive, scratching at the weak points of his mental armor. “You can come with me, I suppose. Back to my camp. I mean,” He stopped himself. An inarguably bad idea. He felt like Louise must have when he was bleeding out on the carpet the night before. ‘This is bad, this is bad.’ He swallowed, “I mean, you ain’t got no place else to go, do you?”

He could see her trying to read into his pause. She responded in the same way, with hesitation, “I imagine wherever I go, they’ll send Coursers after me, just like last night.”

“Is that what that thing was? Barely seemed human the way he was eating my bullets.” Again, curiosity got the best of him.

“Yes. It’s complicated. They’re human for all intents and purposes, but the Institute creates life to be used as slave labor. The SRB has replaced Commonwealth settlers with synths, breeding paranoia, ruining families and communities. These synths are almost completely indistinguishable from you and me, which is why I was able to suture you up successfully, of course, but there’s nothing right with playing God. It’s not only sick but blasphemous.” Louise’s intensity spoke to her truth.

He might have been a raider, but his crew never engaged in any kind of enslavement, in fact, they mostly kept to themselves. They weren’t associated with the gangs from Nuka-World apart from a few squabbles here and there. As raiders, members of the gang weren’t allowed in most major settlements. The majority of issues Louise expressed were out of his purview. “I don’t really subscribe to religion, but none of that seems right.” He concurred. The soreness from his wound met a point he could no longer bear. He extended his hand for his bag which was just out of reach. “You mind grabbing that for me?”

Louise got up and brought back his bag, laying it on the floor beside the sofa so he could access it. He started digging around in it and produced a small pill bottle. The vessel only contained one or two capsules, but Arthur unscrewed the top and poured its contents into his hand and downed whatever was left with a sigh. The Daytripper wouldn’t help his pain, but at least he might be able to stop thinking about it for a while.

“What’s that?” Louise asked, snagging the empty bottle from him to inspect the label. “Oh! They tried to give me this!” She was back to her cheery self, smirking as her finger ran over the scientific names of the ingredients. “This is terrible for you. I could barely read while I was on this.”

“They gave you Daytripper?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Her emotions were so infectious that Arthur felt a small smile tugging at his lips. Maybe that’s why the Institute tried to put her on drugs. “You don’t need that shit. I know it ain’t good for you but, it's the only thing keeping The Sight quiet.” He cursed himself again for leaving her with too much information. Surely she’d figure all this out on her own if he planned to bring her back to camp. Why on earth had he suggested that in the first place? The gang were the only folks who offered him any kind of community in this literal wasteland, her introduction could compromise all of that.

Almost as if she was reading his mind, she changed the subject. “So if I go back to your camp with you, you aren’t going to trade my organs for caps or sell me into slavery?” Her posture changed to project this facade of demure energy that made Arthur have to stifle laughter. Arthur, enchanted, noted her knack for charisma.

“A couple fellas you may need to watch yourself around, but that ain’t no different from anywhere else in the Commonwealth.” He leveled with her.

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The two of them would have to get moving soon. Even if Arthur was still injured, they couldn’t stay here more than a couple of days. The longer Arthur considered his decision to escort Louise back to the gang hideout, the more he regretted suggesting it out of confusion and blood loss in the first place. Maybe eventually he’d strike up the nerve to leave her behind somewhere. Was it safe to keep her around? Would more of those men in trench coats show up to try to take her away?

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(Thanks so much for reading! There are lots of mistakes in this due to the original formatting but I’m not going back to fix them lol hopefully the next chapter won’t be so confusing since I’ve done this before. This shouldn’t be longer than 5 installments.)

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

Chapter XIV: Away To Nowhere Plains

nav | master list | playlist | pin board | chapter XIII

summary: a welcome home party in hawkins, a break from the whirlwind of rock n roll fame.

tags/warning: flirting, consumption of alcohol, weed, swearing, normal chill stuff nothing insane, LOTS of use of Y/n sorry guys nicknames are for couples!!!!! slow burn, mutual pining, tension as per usual

a/n: I MISSED YOU GUYS. i’m so sorry this took so long to update, i was following paramore around the east coast for a few weeks like a crazy person. should be posting waaaay more regularly now. please enjoy! Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. please reblog and comment to support the author!

—

December 1986

You rub the sleep from your eyes as you wake, Eddie’s pretty face slowly coming into focus. “Hey, sleepyhead. How’re you feeling?” His voice is soft, soothing to your ears.

“Better this time around. I think you chased the nightmare off, I dreamt of you instead.” You weren’t planning on telling him, you blame your fatigue for the confession.

“Yeah? Was it hot?” He jokes, and you bite your bottom lip because yeah, it definitely was. “It was, wasn’t it?!” Eddie hops out of bed and starts pacing the floor. “Let me guess, we were somewhere cool, like the woods. We were camping! Yeah, and you forgot your tent, so we had to share, and bing bang boom we’re waking up the wildlife.” He looks back to you, eager for your confession.

You cackle at his guess. “Not even close, man. You were a fucking rockstar. Got up on stage at The Garden, and everyone was there for you. Kicked some fucking ass, might I add.” You leave the part where you jumped on stage out, not wanting to give Eddie any ideas for future Corroded Coffin shows.

“Can I tell you something?” He plops back down next to you, shaking the bed. “Remember the party? When you told me the band could be something, and I told you that was never really the plan?” You nod, and he sighs, “Well. I was lying. It’s been the only thing I’ve wanted to do since I was a kid. What you said meant a lot to me, and I wanted to believe you, but we’d just met, and I wasn’t sure if you were being serious or if you wanted to get in my pants.” He grins, and you know he’s joking.

“It was both, obviously!” You backhand him, and he fakes being hurt. “But mostly the former, I really meant it. I do mean it! You’re talented, you’ve got a great group of friends.”. You open your arms, and he scoops you into his, wrapping his legs around your waist like a koala. He mumbles something into your neck, sounding embarrassed. “What was that?”

He removes his head from your shoulder. With his legs still curled around you, he grasps you by the shoulders, as if to steady your already unmoving frame. He looks deeply into your eyes, and though he looks exhausted, he is absolutely stunning. You fight everything in you to jump him there, forget about a night out with friends, and just ravage the boy in your arms all night instead.

“I love you.”

You swear your heart stops. In fact, you are definitely dead. You died, flew into some deluded version of Catholic Heaven where you get everything you want, no consequence. Eddie tries to read your expression, and you hope to god he can because you sure don’t know what the fuck to feel. “You don’t have to say it back, in fact, don’t. Not yet. But I mean it.”

“I-“ Eddie cuts you off with a kiss, and you let him. You close the tiny gap between his chest and yours, and kiss him to convey all the feelings your words aren’t capable of.

“Now, put on something sexy, we’re going out tonight.” Eddie rolls off of you, snatching his towel from his chair on the way out of the room.

Holy shit.

-

Your POV

“Is anyone here to pick us up?” You ask, linking your arm with Steve’s as you exit into the terminal. The airport is bustling with families on their way to Disneyworld and Martha’s Vineyard for their summer vacations, meanwhile you’re about to spend a week in one of the most traumatizing towns of your young adulthood.

“Yeah, Nance and Jonathan are- and speak of the devil!”

Nancy and Jonathan approach from the other side of your gate, and you take off running. Nance catches you in her embrace, squeezing you tightly as you fall into her arms. “Hi, baby!” You squeal, keeping your old friend close.

“Hi, honey! It’s so nice to see you!” When she lets you go, you move to hug Jonathan as Robin and Steve say their hellos. Eddie and the guys are further back, sending waves to them. Nancy doesn’t accept that, though, and throws herself into Eddie. “Hey, Ed.” She mumbles into his shoulder.

-

Eddie’s POV

“Hey, Nance. Long time.”

“Too long!” She separates herself from him and backhands his chest. “Visit more!”

Eddie scoffs. “Hey, you’re in Boston now, don’t give me that shit!”

“Sure, but I come home every summer. I know you’re big and famous, but this is still your home!”

“How is the big guy?” He’s talking about Dustin, eyes betraying a glimpse of who Eddie used to be.

“He’s good. He misses you. We didn’t tell him, or any of them actually, that you were coming.” Nancy’s shy, suddenly.

“Because we weren’t sure if you actually were.” Jonathan explains, and Eddie nods, pressing his lips together. It makes sense, he’s made plenty of empty promises to visit already, only finally pulling himself together because of you.

“But you did! You came! Both of you came, which is even crazier. But it’s great! We’re having a party tonight, Steve’s hosting, we can all drive over together.” Nancy blurts, her mind moving faster than her mouth can.

“A party?” You ask, voice raising an octave higher than it usually sits. You sound nervous.

“Well, what us casual folk consider a party. You guys will probably see it as a pathetic attempt at one.”

“Oh, please!” Steve interjects, “My parties are never pathetic. I was the king!”

Eddie groans dramatically. “Yeah, yeah, man. We know, you peaked in high school.”

“I did not.” Steve crosses his arms, and your laugh draws Eddie’s attention back to you.

“I for one would love a Hawkins style party.” You add finally, a real smile spread across your face. “It’ll be nice to see everyone.”

Nancy nods, taking your carry on from your grasp. “Great! Let’s get you settled.”

“Did you book us a hotel? Eddie asks, surprised. That’s above any level of friendship he’s had with these two specifically.

They both laugh. “A hotel? You’re staying with us!” Oh, fuck.

—

Your POV

“So, my parents happen to be away for the week you’re all here,” Nancy starts, unlocking the door to her childhood home, a building that housed many a party, many a D&D game. “so we have it to ourselves! The couches up here and downstairs, the guest room, and obviously Robin and Y/n will be sleeping with me, to catch me up on the Hollywood Gossip.” Nancy winks at you, and you smile. You’ve missed her, missed Hawkins, despite everything.

“When are the kids getting here?” You ask. You mean Max, specifically. You owe her some money. Eddie and the guys make their way downstairs before Nancy answers,

“They’re at Dustin’s, they’ll be over later today. Something about needing to catch up on the news?”

You bring your palm to your face. “Shit. I was gonna tell you over drinks, lots and lots of drinks, but uh, there’s a rumor flying around that Eddie and I are, y’know,” You trail off, fidgeting like an embarrassed child.

Nancy brings her manicured hand to her open mouth, quick to hide her pity. (It doesn’t work.) “Oh, god. Are you? Sorry, that was rude. How are you handling it?”

You laugh, unfazed by her curiosity. “I don’t really know what we are right now,”

“So you’re something?” She smirks.

You roll your eyes. “We’ll always be something.”

She shrugs, a truce. “What are you gonna tell them? Tell Dustin? You know how he gets.”

You shake your head. “That’s Eddie’s problem.”

Nancy chirps a laugh, placing your suitcase at the end of her bed, and Robin’s backpack beside it. “Fair enough. But didn’t Max bet you the break up wouldn’t last?”

You snort, “Yeah, I owe the kid fifty bucks.”

“If I’d known we were putting money on it, I’d be freaking rich!” Robin teases, and you try to smother your grin. She’s right, she’d been betting on you and Eddie reconciling for the past two years.

“Sorry, Bob. Ya snooze, ya lose!”

“Speaking of snoozing, I need a nap before this party. Pretty sure I broke my neck on the plane.”

-

Nancy rouses you and Robin from your slumbers gently, shaking your shoulders while whispering that “It’s time to get up, rockstars!” The time on her old alarm clock blinks 4:15PM, both you and Robin had slept the day away. You take your time getting up, stretching your limbs slowly as your eyes adjust to the sunlight, streaming through the blinds. Your stomach growls loudly, and Nancy chuckles. “Pizza’s on the way! We’ll eat before we go to Steve’s. For now, though, go get dressed. Remember your bathing suits!” She’s in Mom mode, taking care of you and Robin while running around like a crazy person.

You dig through your suitcase, coming up empty handed. “I don’t have a bathing suit.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “Yes you do!” She takes your suitcase from you, pulling out the skimpy bikini from beneath your piles of clothing. It’s black with cherries on it, and teeny tiny. You bite your lip in embarrassment. It’s a cute bikini, but it’s super inappropriate to be wearing around the kids.

Robin seems to read your mind, though. “They’re all adults now, y/n. You don’t need to walk around in a mumu. Plus,” she wiggles her eyebrows teasingly, “we both know who’ll love this number.”

You groan, snatching the fabric from her grip. “Fine! But you have to wear your yellow one. I’m not gonna be the only one walking around almost-naked.”

She giggles, agreeing. “Doesn’t bother me!” She finds her suit in her backpack and leaves the room to let you change.

-

Eddie’s POV

“So, why are we staying here if we’re having the party at your place?” Eddie asks before biting into his pizza.

“Because Nancy insisted on staying here, but she can’t host a party to save her life. Plus, I have a pool.”

“Your parents have a pool. You live in a tiny apartment in Seattle with two other people.”

Steve shoves Eddie’s shoulder. “Man, shut up. At least I have friends to live with.” Eddie’s face falls, and Steve notices immediately. “I’m sorry. That was too far.”

He shrugs. “It’s alright, you’re not exactly wrong.” He’s glad he’s not home right now, it gets lonely there. The thought of seeing all of his friends again, though, is still overwhelming him. He has no idea what he’ll say to Dustin, or worse, what Dustin will say to him.

Before Eddie can panic further, though, you and Robin enter the kitchen. You’re in shorts and a tight black t-shirt, the strings of your bikini visible underneath. Your short hair is clipped to keep it out of your face, the vibrant color having faded since the beginning of the tour. You send a small smile his way, melting Eddie’s insecurities, even temporarily. He can’t seem to peel his eyes from you as you walk over to the counter, helping yourself to a slice of pizza. He has to fight the urge to walk over to you, wrap his arms around your waist, rest his head on your shoulder. It practically pains him, when you’re out of his reach.

“Eds?” You snap him out of his trance, waving a hand in front of him.

“What?” He shakes his head, as if to rid the image from his brain. “Sorry.”

You grin shyly, and Eddie could melt at the sight. “I asked if you’re ready to go?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m all set.”

Your smile widens, and you hold your hand out for him. He takes it, expecting you to drag him out to the car, but you pull him hooking, hooking your arm around his. “Okay, then. Shall we?”

He can feel the eyes of the room on the pair of you, his cheeks warming. You don’t seem to notice, only looking up at him, your eyes shiny and warm.

-

Mere hours later, Steve’s parents’ house is full and loud, music bumping through the surround sound speakers. Eddie’s in the kitchen nursing a beer when Dustin enters. He’s grown taller and more muscular since the last time Eddie’s seen him, and the beginnings of a beard pepper his face, making him look more like a man than the last time he’d seem the boy. Susie’s on his arm, smiling kindly when she meets Eddie’s eyes. “You wanna drink, Dusty?” She asks sweetly, and Dustin nods. She exits the kitchen, leaving the boys alone.

“What’s up, Dusty?” Eddie tries to joke, extending his hand for Dustin to shake. He swats it away, instead pulling Eddie into a much needed hug.

“Hey, Eddie.” His greeting is muffled by Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie returns the hug without shame, wrapping his arms around Dustin’s shoulders. The two stay like that, long lost brothers seeing each other for the first time in years.

“Missed you, man.” Eddie finally says when Dustin breaks the hug, holding Eddie at arm’s length. “You're lookin’ great.”

“I’ve been hittin’ the gym a little, check this out,” Dustin flexes a bicep, the beginnings of muscle protruding from his arm. Eddie chuckles, nodding an approval.

When the small talk dies, neither speaks at first, unsure of where to take the conversation besides the elephant in the room. “How’s tour treating you?” Dustin finally asks, taking a seat at the kitchen island. Susie returns with two sodas, handing one to Dustin and sipping the other.

Eddie shrugs, taking another sip of his beer. “It’s been alright, pretty standard stuff.”

Dustin chuckles, and the sound is deeper than Eddie’s used to. “Standard, huh? Touring with the ex love of your life?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Right to the point, huh?”

“Obviously, man! I haven’t seen you in years, and the one time you come back, it’s with all this new information I’m not aware of! You know I hate being out of the loop!”

“I know, and I owe you a lot of information. Trust me, I wanna tell you everything,” Before Eddie can continue, you’re stumbling into the kitchen, giggling drunkenly with Robin as you wobble to the coolers in the corner.

“Hi, boys! Oh my god, it can’t be. Is that Dustin freaking Henderson?!” You gasp dramatically, pulling a big smile from Dustin as he approaches you. You swing your arms around his neck, having to get on tiptoes now to reach him. He wraps his arms around you, and you sway as you hug him tightly.

“Hey, Y/n.” He greets warmly, then releases you to hug Robin with the same welcoming arms. “Hi, Bob.”

“Hey, buddy.” Robin hums, rubbing Dustin’s back as she hugs him closely.

“Sorry to interrupt, I know you guys have a lot of catching up to do. But we’re about to play chicken, and I need a partner.” You look from Dustin to where Eddie is, leaning against the counter, opening his fourth beer of the night.

“What, me?”

You roll your eyes. “Obviously, silly. C’mon! It’ll be fun.” You’re wasted, eyes glazed over and posture loose. It’s impossible to say no to you.

“I’ll be out in a second.”

“Okay!” You sing, hooking your arm through Robins again. The two of you exit the kitchen, into the back yard. Eddie can’t look away as you peel your shirt over your head, revealing a tiny black bikini top.

“You haven’t changed a bit, Munson.” Dustin taunts as Eddie pulls his stare from your silhouette.

“What are you talking about?”

“Seriously? You can’t tell me that is how friends look at each other,” He mimicks Eddie, staring open mouthed at the wall, eyes wide and unblinking. “It’s pathetic!”

“This is why I haven’t come back here, Henderson.” Eddie teases, backhanding the kid’s stomach. “Can’t deal with your know-it-all bullshit.”

Dustin snorts a laugh. “Hey, man, I'm just callin’ it like I see it.”

-

Your POV

You dip your toes into the cool water while you wait, letting the feeling contrast with the alcohol induced warmth of your body. You feel a presence sit next to you, another pair of feet meeting yours under the water.

“Hey, kiddo.” You greet her, leaning your head on her shoulder.

“What’s up, big shot?” Max leans her head on yours, her way of hugging you without committing to it. She looks the same, despite being a little taller, and maybe her hair’s gotten a little longer.

“Oh, y’know. Same old.”

She snorts. “Word on the street is you owe me some money.”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get that to you this week. Nice to see you, too.”

“Hey! It is nice to see you! I haven’t in a while, I’m sorry.” Max wraps her arms around your shoulders. “I missed you, y’know.”

“I missed you too, Maxie. How are things?”

“They’re alright. I don’t live here anymore, that’s a big plus.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nods. “Moved out after college, got a place in the city with Lucas. I’ll show you some time this week maybe?”

You nod. “For sure.”

“But enough about my endeavors, how are you? Y’know, with all this shit going on?”

You shake your head. “I dunno, dude. Weird, I guess. Everything’s weird.”

“I take it you and Eddie aren’t officially back together, then?”

“Not exactly. But not, not together. Does that make sense?”

“Not at all. Good to see you two haven’t changed too much.”

You giggle, nudging her shoulder with yours. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, c’mon! You two used to dance around the idea of dating before you started. You think we didn’t notice? I was fifteen, not stupid! It took you so much time to admit you liked each other, then even more time to figure out you needed to break up. Now here we are again, watching Eddie and Y/n tiptoe around their feelings for each other.”

You sigh, the alcohol not letting you fully grasp what she’s saying. “I hate when you’re right.”

She grins smugly. “I know, and I’m sorry. It happens a lot.”

Before you can respond, Eddie throws the screen door open. “Who’s ready to play some chicken?” He’s very drunk, but not in the sad and angry way you’re used to seeing him lately.

Max gives you another grin, and you roll your eyes before getting to your feet. “You’re in for it now, team Scoops.” You point across the pool, where Robin and Steve stand in their bathing suits discussing strategy. Eddie shoves his pants to the ground, revealing a too small pair of swim trunks you're sure have belonged to him since freshman year. He tugs his shirt over his head, discarding it with his pants in the grass. You do your best not to stare at the tattoos scattered on his torso, littering his arms. You refuse to look further than his chest, not risking even a glance at his waist, his hips. Instead of gawking like you want to, you pay close attention to undoing the button of your cutoff shorts, shimmying out of them and tossing them onto the chair beside you.You’re completely exposed, standing only in the tiniest bikini you own because it was the only one you could find before leaving.

As much as you don’t want to draw his attention, the feeling of Eddie’s eyes on your body surges your confidence. Without looking back, you get into the pool, taking each step slowly to adjust to the temperature. It’s fairly warm, and you say a quick thank you prayer. You definitely cannot be walking around with pointy nips right now. Eddie wades in behind you, splashing you in his wake, steps clumsy. Once he’s settled, he turns to face you, squatting so the water reaches his chest.

“You ready, sweetheart?” You try not to seem fazed by his slip. He stopped calling you that after you broke up, and the only times he has since then, he’s apologized for it. Now, though, with his guard down and his judgment obscured, he smirks at you like he knows what he’s just done. You pretend you don’t get it.

“Sure thing, Munson.” No pretty boy, not even this drunk. He’s not yours, not now.

If he notices, he doesn’t let it show, keeping the same expression as he motions you forward. You’ve done this hundreds of times, over the course of the few summers you had in Hawkins. You and Eddie used to drive over on Fridays and stay the weekend with Rob, Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan, babysitting the kids and enjoying your time as immature adults while you still could. It feels the same, even after all those years have passed, you’re still in the same small town, with the same group of friends, playing the same stupid games. You climb onto his shoulders, and try not to react when his hands grasp tightly on each thigh, locked on either side of his head.

“Alright, listen up!” Dustin has gathered the rest of your friends beside the pool, while scattered guests you barely remember from your semester in high school crowd around to spectate. “This is Drown The Chicken. The first person to fall off of their partner loses. There will be three rounds, each one five minutes. A shot of liquor will be taken by the loser after each round. If both opponents fail to knock the other off of their partner, a tiebreaker will take place. Today, the tie breaker will be…” He pauses for dramatic effect, and Mike takes the opportunity to slap his legs in a drumroll. “A shotgun race!” The whole backyard cheers, and you groan. The worst thing about these kids being in college, is that they’re too young to realize drinking is not the only thing adults do. It is one of the most fun, though.

“Both members of each team will shotgun a malt beverage of their choosing. First one to finish wins the tiebreaker for their team, and therefore the round! At the end, the losers will have to drink a shot of the winners’ choosing!” The four of you nod in understanding. Regardless, you know you’ll have to drink at some point. “On your mark, get set, GO!” Will clicks his timer, and the party guests start cheering, egging you on. You hear shouts of, “I’ve got ten on Munson and L/n!” and “Kick his ass!” and Robin reaches for you suddenly, catching you off guard. The music is cranked through the speakers, giving the match a soundtrack of Pixies’ Here Comes Your Man. Steve wades toward you, Robin clutching a handful of his precious hair to keep her balance. You take advantage of his winces of “Ouch, Rob, not the hair!” and shove, sending Robin almost entirely backwards. Steve catches her at the last second, wobbling as he tries to keep her out of the water.

“Lucky shot!” Robin shouts, stretching her arms out toward you. You lean back, and Eddie catches you, gripping your thighs tightly on his shoulders. He moves with you, saving your equilibrium, and you stretch towards Robin. The two of you tangle your arms, while the boys below you swat at each other, hurling meaningless insults and taunts. Finally, you gain the advantage, shoving Robin’s shoulder with enough force to send her backwards, slipping quickly from Steve’s grasp. She splashes into the water, submerged up to her neck. “Shit.”

“That’s one for team Hellfire!” Dustin claps his hands loudly as he hands your opponents each a shot, and you giggle as Robin struggles to climb back onto Steve’s back, their skin now slippery with pool water.

“Nice moves.” Eddie cranes his neck, and you meet his eyes. His face is soft with intoxication, his guard lowered. Yours is higher than ever, though, and you look away before he can reel you in any further.

“Round two!” You repeat the motions, this time while Smells Like Teen Spirit blares from the radio, and your former classmates yelling and cheering for their preferred team. Robin catches you by surprise, kicking one of your knees enough to throw you off balance, then shoving you to the side. You topple off of Eddie’s shoulders, into the cool water. You stay there for a second, keeping your eyes closed to avoid looking at Eddie’s surely disappointed expression.

But when you dare to peek through one eye, the other still tightly shut, he’s smiling at you. Not his usual toothy grin, the one he gives to his friends. His smile is soft, lips pressed together as if to stop them from quivering with a rogue giggle.

He’s drunk, you remind yourself. You have to remember he’s drunk.

“What now, Munson?!” Steve sends a splash at Eddie, and he scoffs in mock disgust.

“Boys, please, you’ll have plenty of time to play mermaids after Eddie and I kick your ass.” Eddie giggles as you climb his back, repositioning yourself on top of him. It’s more difficult, now that both of you are soaked from the neck down. Dustin hands you both a shot, Eddie’s whiskey and yours vodka, and you both down them easily.

“Final round, people! This round wins it all! See Max to confirm your bets. Are the teams ready?” The four of you give variations of a confirmation, and Dustin shouts, once again, “On your mark… get set… GO!” You square your body to hold better balance, as Eddie and Steve approach each other slowly. Eddie’s hands grip your thighs tightly, and you hope he can’t feel the heat growing between your legs. Not now.

You continue to dodge and dance around each other, narrowly missing one another as you swing your limbs, stretching and reaching for Robin as Eddie tries to sneak around Steve’s guard. After five long minutes, Dustin startles you with the newly found volume in his voice. “TIME’S UP! WE HAVE A TIE!” You can hear the conflicting emotions of the crowd, probably correlating to their own predictions. “Y’all know what that means!” The four of you sulk as you leave the water, defeated by the dreaded tie breaker.

Lucas passes you each a can and a miscellaneous tool to puncture it with. You’ve barely grown to like beer, even after months of being surrounded by it, but it’s the only thing available that you’re physically able to shotgun. You’ve chosen a Red Stripe, in honor of your teammate.

“The rules of the tiebreaker are as follows: You will puncture your can when I say go, and you will chug for thirty seconds before opening the top. The first person to finish their beverage wins the tiebreaker for their team. Got it?” Eddie groans a confirmation, while you and Robin nod and Steve taps each side of his face lightly to psych himself out. Dustin counts you off again, and you each stab your cans, quickly rushing the liquid into your mouth. Will counts from 30 out loud as he watches the timer, and the crowd is eerily quiet, focused on the race in front of them.

“30! Crack ‘em open!” You do as you’re told, quickly snapping the tab of the can to relieve the pressure. You can tell you’re slowing down, grossed out by the bread flavored piss water sliding down your throat. Luckily, though, Eddie is devouring his own, his head tilted to make sure he’s getting all of it. The feeling between your legs has returned, and you quickly shoot your gaze to Robin, who’s also struggling to finish her beer. In reality, this is a race between Steve and Eddie, winner takes all. All in this case is bragging rights, and probably a horrible hangover.

Eddie is the first to finish, lifting the can above his head in celebration. Thank god, too, because you definitely shouldn’t consume another shot.

“We have a winner!” Dustin runs between you and Eddie, hoisting each of your wrists to the air as the backyard guests cheer and boo and yell. You chance another look in Eddie’s direction, admiring his whoops of victory as he high fives his bandmates.

_

Eddie’s POV

It’s 3AM as the party starts to die, and people he’d never spoken to in high school approach him to say their goodbyes. Eddie is pulled into hugs, handshakes, and conversations with his former bullies, and girls that never looked at him twice. Though his eighteen year old self would be relishing in this sudden change, he’s tired. He knows it’s not real, that none of these people even care about his art. They care that he’s famous, and that they know someone famous. But the only person in this room that knows him is behind him, falling asleep on the basement sofa.

“Hey, Y/n?” Eddie is finally able to approach you, after breaking away from another pointless conversation. “You wanna get going?”

Your eyes slide to his face, glassy and warm with inebriation. “Aw, you’re leaving?” You pout, staring up at him, and he could melt. You’d been talking about going home not five minutes ago, but it’s clear your brain has stalled.

“Only if you wanna. We can stay as long as you want.”

“I can come with you?”

He can't help but laugh, you’re so cute like this, so soft. “Of course you can.”

“I thought you were sick of me.” Your face slips slightly, lips twitching into a frown.

“What?” Eddie shifts so his whole body faces you. “I could never be sick of you.”

You shrug, clearly not understanding the gravity of his words. “I dunno, we’ve been in close quarters since tour started, I don’t mind giving you space if you need it.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to feel his own drunken insecurity surface. “Are you sick of me?” It’s barely a whisper, but you hear him.

Your eyes widen quickly, shocked at his words. “No! Eddie, of course not.”

“Okay, good.” He flashes you what he knows is an unconvincing smile. “You wanna go home?”

You shake your head. “Can we go for a walk?”

-

Predictably, you end up back at Hawkins High, the parking lot pitch black in the buzz of a summer night. Even looking at it, Eddie feels the chill of his memories washing over him. This is where he was stuck for six years, where Steve had shoved him into a locker their freshman year, where Jason Carver had made his final senior year miserable. It is the building that harbors Eddie’s darkest thoughts, where the seed of his shame had sprouted from. Where he had to deal with Chrissy’s death, and being framed for it.

But it was also where he met you. Where he’d introduced you to some of his closest friends, where he sat with you at lunch every day, dancing around each other until after midterms. As much as Eddie still hates to admit it, and as horrendously tacky as it sounds, high school is where he’d fallen in love.

Eddie lets his eyes wander in the darkness, knowing you won’t catch him in your hazy state. Your arms hang limply by your sides as you stare up at the school building, seeming to admire it. He wonders how being here must make you feel, as someone that left as soon as they could. It hadn’t been easy for you either, restarting your entire social life in your senior year.

“Do you ever miss it?” Your words catch him off guard, your voice almost inaudible even in the quiet.

“Hell no,” He scoffs, and feels you shift beside him. “I spent way too much extra time here to even think of missing it.”

“Okay, maybe not the actual, physical place. But, don't you miss how easy it was?”

“You’re joking, right? We fought an underground of Hell Monsters, Y/n, that wasn’t what I’d call easy.”

You groan, and he chuckles at your drunken frustration. “Christ, okay, I mean how small our world was, before all that hell monster shit. We didn’t have to worry about people outside of Hawkins, outside of the little bubble of our friends.”

“And you miss that?” He’s genuinely curious. You had always been looking to move, spread out beyond the small town your parents dragged you to. He never expected you to miss it.

You shrug. “Sometimes, yeah. Despite everything that happened, I was happy here. I had a home.”

Eddie’s vision blurs with the implication of your words. Of course, you’d had a physical home, but you'd also had him. And Steve, Robin, Nance, the kids. You’d never had a solid friend group in Boston.

“I miss parts of it,” He finally confesses, turning his head to fully look at you again. “Some more than others.”

You look for him, finding his eyes easily in the dark, and he adjusts quickly to see you better.

“You think things will ever be that easy again?” There’s a hint of optimism in your voice, and it begs him to join it, just for a second.

“I really, really hope so.”

-

Your POV

Somehow, you and Eddie find your way back to Steve’s, tiptoeing clumsily through the front door to a mass of passed out Hawkins alum. Steve is sprawled on the couch, while Dustin and Mike are on the floor beside him. In the basement, Will and El are cleaning the empty bottles and red solo cups from the absolutely destroyed basement, bobbing and weaving around members of Corroded Coffin and DDA, and they inform you Lucas and Max have gone back to Nancy’s already. Upstairs, the rest of your friends are in respective bedrooms, sleeping to prepare for their unavoidable hangovers.

“There’s one room left.” Eddie leads the way to Steve’s parents’ bedroom, the only one left untouched by party guests.

You peel the heavy comforter back, shimmying off your shorts, so tired and so absolutely plastered at this point, you don’t realize he’s watching as you untie your bikini top, letting it fall to the floor.

“Whoa! Um,” Eddie spins himself to face the window, losing his balance as he does. Even though he can’t see you, he still smacks his hands over his eyes. “I, uh, I’m gonna go find a spot on the floor.” He begins to sidestep towards the door, still refusing to look at you without a top on.

“Eddie,” You know the alcohol is making you flirty, and you’ll probably regret this tomorrow, but fuck it. You’re on vacation. You tug on Eddie’s shoulder, turning him to face you. He keeps his eyes glued to your face, barely blinking, definitely not letting them wander. “Stay here.”

He clears his throat, wincing. “Y/n,” Your pout cuts him off. “What’s that face for?”

“It’s weird, hearing my name out of your mouth. It was always sweetheart. Or baby, or pretty, or love. Now I’m just Y/n.” Your words slur together, exhaustion taking hold. You let your fingers dance up his bare arm, his shirt still somewhere in Steve’s yard. Still not daring to move his eyes from your face, he has an answer almost immediately.

“You’re not just Y/n, you’re Y/n! The Y/n, actually, a songwriting, vocalizing, rockstar badass. I’ve seen it firsthand.”

“Well then, the Y/n wants the Eddie Munson in bed with them.” It’s a bold choice of words, but you don’t care. You need him right now, even through the thick fog of the liquor.

“I want to, you have no idea how badly i want to, Y/n, I promise you that,”

“Then why won’t you?”

“Because I shouldn’t. I can’t.” He’s blunt. There is no arguing, he’s made up his mind.

And still, you prod him with inquiries. “Is it because we’re drunk? Because I trust you. I know you wouldn’t hurt me, Ed.”

He sighs, his hand finally moving to caress your burning cheek. “It’s because we’re drunk, but not because I'm scared of hurting you. I can’t let our first time together in two years be something you’ll regret tomorrow, but I also can’t chance either of us forgetting it.” He says it quietly, like he’s had the volume on himself turned down. You’ve heard him anyway, but it takes you a second to digest what he’s said.

“Okay,” You accept his answer, and before he can turn to leave you add, “Can you just sleep next to me?”

Eddie hesitates for a second, searching your expression. He must find an answer, because he nods. “Okay, sweetheart. But I gotta have you put a shirt on. For my own sake.”

You giggle, the satisfaction of hearing your nickname making you malleable to his words, nodding in agreement. Eddie exits the bedroom, and returns a bit later with a piece of fabric in his hand. His shirt. Of course it’s his shirt, what was he gonna do, give you Steve’s to sleep in?

You’re surrounded by his smell, his warmth, instantaneously. You crawl into the king sized bed, pulling the covers up to your chin. You hear Eddie’s pants drop to the floor, before he climbs into bed, hoisting the covers to slide underneath them. You scoot back, and he knows now to wrap his arm around your waist, without the weird hesitation and awkward shuffling before you give up for the sake of comfort. Eddie rests his face behind your neck, the warm exhale of breath tickling your skin.

“Goodnight, baby.” He mumbles into the fabric of your-slash-his shirt, and your body vibrates with glee.

“Goodnight, baby.”

-

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Shadow *Part 2*

Hisoka Morrow (Platonic) X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1623

Requested: Anon

Request: Hello Again! I was wondering if you could do a part 2 of the hunter x hunter platonic vampire sister story? If it's not too much trouble :)

Warning: Talk of abuse, slightly unhinged reader

*Part 1*

You sat behind one of the victims, knife in hand as you slit his wrist, blood flowing freely as you drank your fill. “Weren’t these the men that hired your father and grandfather?” You asked. “Yes.” Illumi answered as Kalluto finished off the last of the men, Illumi took out his phone and called his father. “You employers are dead, your job is terminated.” He informed him before hanging up the phone. “Who was he supposed to kill anyway?” You asked. “Your brother.” Illumi asked. “Maybe we should have killed these guys slower.” You sighed. “I don’t know that it would have worked out the way that you hoped, they were all strong and I doubt any one of them would have given up easily.” Illumi said and you shrugged. “Would have been worth the damage.” You answered but even as you said that you weren’t sure that you believed it, in fact after seeing the other spiders you hoped that they would all see how strong you were, you weren’t ready for them to die, you still had things that you wanted to show them “actually never mind, I still have a score to settle with them.” “As long as you continue to watchover Killua then I have no complaints.” Illumi said and nodded.

As it turned out Killua presented you with an opportunity to have them all in the same place with both Killua and Gon captured, you knew that their friends were likely figuring out a plan and what unfolded was fast, their friend shouting about their plan, the boys getting ready and finally the lights went out, you moved quickly, you made sure that the boys were able to free themselves before stopping the chain user from leaving with your brother. When the lights came back on Killua, Gon, the chain user and their loud friend were on one side of the lobby and the Troupe were on the other. “I had him what happened?” The chain user said and you looked at him and smiled not that anyone could see it under the metal mask. “I’m gonna need you to calm down for me, yeah?” You asked, the chain user seemed to relax. “What did you do?” The loud friend asked. “I just needed him to be a little less homicidal, I haven’t hurt him.” You promised as you turned back to the troupe. “You guys never seem to learn your lesson.” “That’s her boss.” Nobunaga said. “(Y/N).” Chrollo said. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried.” “The lying look doesn’t suit you.” You glared at him. “How do you know these guys?” Killua asked. “You didn’t tell them little sister?” He asked. “Little sister?” Killua asked. “I’m only your sister by genetics, the Zoldycks treat me more like family than you ever had.” You glared at him “you remember how I didn’t have a Nen ability before? Well I have something better than that now.” “And what do you want from us?” Chrollo asked. “That’s the question isn’t it?” You asked. “First off you're going to let everyone one of them go, this fight is no longer theirs.” “I have no interest in them but the chain user needs to die.” Chrollo answered “he killed Uvogin.” “You mean the big brute that you used to throw me around for fun?” You asked. “Not killing him for that.” Nobunaga grit his teeth. “Uvo never meant any harm!” He yelled. “Oh no but he did cause it and I remember asking you to stop… Do you remember what you did in response?” You asked. “You laughed and encouraged him to do it again.” Nobunaga dove forward and drew his sword, he stabbed you straight in the stomach and you coughed out a laugh and kicking him away from you, you easily took the sword from your stomach, you walked towards him, they all watched the wound heal quicker than it should have “looks like you’ll be joining your brutish friend.” You lifted his sword above your head ready to strike.

You were unfortunately not paying attention to everything around you so the hit to your side knocked you off balance and had you stumbled back stopping yourself after a few steps. “That was annoying.” “What?” Phinks asked as he looked at the distance he had knocked you. “Silva hits hard, try something else next time.” You suggested referencing the fight Illumi had you take part in for endurance and pain tolerance. Phinks helped Nobunaga up and you looked at him and lifted your mask to spit out the blood that had gathered in your mouth. You disappeared from where you were standing and instead stood behind the chain user, one arm resting lazily over his shoulder and wrapping up so that your hand rested on his chest, your chin on his free shoulder.

“Chain user tell them your terms.” You ordered. “I want them all dead.” He answered. “I could get behind that but we both know that’s not happening today and there’s someone else that has some business with my brother before we kill him, remember?” You asked. “You made a deal with him he doesn’t take well to be crossed.” “We had a plan.” He growled “you were the one that ruined it.” “It would have ended with two captured friends and a standstill.” You mumbled “but here you can choose something, so think carefully what gets you what you want without killing him?” “(Y/N).” “Chrollo called. “If you stop this now we can still forgive you, welcome you back to the troupe.” “I wasn't a member of the trope, I was your prisoner, I’m not the same kid that you abused, she’s dead, she has been for a long time.” You explained. “I have an ability that can take his nen away from him.” The chain user answered. “Now we’re thinking long term.” You smirked. “I won’t be able to get to him through all of them though.” He answered. “Is that the only problem?” You asked. “Yes.” He answered, you smiled, “let me fix that for you. Chrollo walked towards the chain user and kill any one of the spiders that tries to stop you.” Chrollo stepped forward without another word and you smiled. Nobunaga stepped forward. “Don’t try to stop me.” Chrollo ordered. “He's catching on.” You said softly. When he was close enough the chain user lifted his hand, the chains wrapped around his body, the chain users eyes turned red before a different chain lifted in front of him, the nen aura around it was strong. “This chain allows me to negotiate terms and gives me an insurance policy, the first condition stops you from using any nen, the second…” He stopped for a second. “Are you sure this is the best course of action?” Chrollo asked. “Stop talking.” You ordered. “The second is that you are not allowed any further contact with others of the troupe.” The Chain user finally said “are these-” “Before we confirm anything you might want to bring the gun user in.” You suggested. “What?” The chain user asked. “Think about her ability, even if I was to erase their memories as I plan to, she’d be able to find them with her nen ability so you need to eliminate her or her ability.” You explained. “Pakunoda, why don’t you come forward.” You framed it like a suggestion but before long she was standing next to Chrollo. The chain user reiterated the conditions he had said before looking at her “Are these conditions acceptable?” He asked. “Yes.” Pakunoda nodded, you watched one chain go through your brother's chest before another went through hers. “Right, let's get this party disbanded, troupe members! Get back to your hideout, you will remember that Chrollo was kidnapped and Pakunoda was the only one the Chain User wanted any dealings with, you are waiting for them to get back, you won’t remember anything that happened here, Go.” You ordered their eyes all glossed over as they turned and left through the back exit. “Pakunoda, you will get there 10 minutes after them and act as you would normally, having just struck the deal that you have.” Pakunoda then turned and left “now you big brother, I could order you to your death and there’s nothing you can do to stop it, but that’s no fun, instead you’ll live without the family that you’ve built for yourself you will travel north until you are far enough away that they will never find you.”

“If that’s your brother then who gave you to mine?” Killua asked as your brother left. “Hisoka did, didn’t he?” The Chain User asked. “Hisoka is probably the closest thing I have to a family.” You admitted. “Just get out of here and try not to get in any more trouble, okay?” “Thank you for helping us.” Gon called as they left and you rolled your eyes before pulling out your phone.

“I wasn’t able to keep him completely intact.” You said as Hisoka answered the phone. “Really?” Hisoka asked. “He can’t use his Nen at the moment.” You explained. “That’s a shame.” Hisoka said “well I have no interest in broken toys.” “There's a way that we can fix that if you are still interested in fighting him.” You said and you could almost hear him smiling. “Well come back to me, little one and we’ll make a plan.” He suggested. “And Illumi?” You asked. “I’ll talk to him, don't worry about that.” He said “meet me at your hotel room.” He hung up the phone after that you headed out just before the police forced their way through the front door into the hotel lobby to arrest anyone still inside.

*Part 3*

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13. rising every time

back - next After everything Mark had been through, it came as no surprise to Antonio, that he could be so easily unstrung by the simple sound of a voice. He’d seen it happen before, in a different context, in what was quickly beginning to feel like another lifetime.

A Muse was not a mimic in the usual sense. They didn’t need to use any primitive mechanism of muscle and sinew to parrot other living things. A Muse could reach through the subtle meshes of their connection with their host, latch right into their memories and use the voices that lived there. They could make their human hear words that belonged to the past just as clearly as if they were being spoken in the present, just as they could use the finer strings of their human’s imagination to form a unique voice for themselves. Even if they knew it wasn’t real, most humans were not proof against the voice of a loved one, a formative moment or a painful memory, even when they knew it was just a crude tactic to make them respond.

The Muse which had grown here was gone. This place was an outgrown shell, of no further use to anybody. The thing that remained was like Antonio, just a useful tool wearing a human’s face. Knowing this didn’t make it any easier to hear the footsteps, padding closer, crinkling over the tinfoil-coated floor outside. As they advanced Antonio felt another interesting new sensation he could have done without ever experiencing; the stomach-hollowing fear of being caught.

Maybe Mark felt the same. He was shaking his head a little, a tiny unconscious no-no-no-no of denial or outright terror or both, and he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the door. His face was full of a terrible longing, mouth twisted, all certainty crumbled. He looked frighteningly young.

“Mark,” hissed Antonio, under his breath and as emphatically as he dared, “listen to me. There was a real Antonio, a real person like you. Was, you get it? I’m-not-him, and that-” he pointed an urgent finger towards the door, “that’s not-”

The door opened.

Carl Mayhew, or the thing that looked like him, was a terminally ordinary-looking man in the difficult-to-pin-down zone between forty-odd and fifty-something. He had a snubby nose and narrow black-rimmed glasses and a bit of a squint, he was dressed in tidy black, and his hair was a short, neat stubble that was a little tufty around his ears and hardly there at all everywhere else, especially on top. He wasn’t particularly tall or imposing, and overall he looked like the sort of man who would let you run over his foot in the supermarket and then apologize to you for it.

A convincing picture, but just like with the new Mark, the wrong notes threw off the whole orchestra. It was there in his air of inhuman confidence, an inherent cell-deep assurance that didn’t gel with the rest of him. It was as bold as a poison frog’s bright glossy stripes, and it shone clearest of all out of the smile he directed at Mark as he stood in the doorway. Antonio knew too well that Mark was familiar with that sort of smile, all teeth, radiating forgiveness. Mark had seen enough of smiles like that over the last ten months to recognize them on sight, even when they weren’t attached to the face that usually wore them.

“Hello, son,” said the new Carl.

Mark seemed to have turned into a statue that could only breathe. The new Carl’s eyes moved past him and landed on Antonio, and a mildly confused look ghosted over his face. He looked like he’d dumped out a whole black-and-white jigsaw puzzle and found a single coloured piece lying in the middle of the heap, a piece that was definitely not part of the picture on the box. Antonio found himself thinking of the new Mark, standing before him with Mark’s old glasses in his hand, looking down at them with an expression that was not exactly annoyed or upset yet but creeping towards both, because they weren’t quite right.

Antonio, who hadn’t been quite right for some time now, felt almost as if he was starting to get the hang of it. He couldn’t guess how much the new Carl knew, but in this improbable, inconvenient, impossible scenario where a host who was supposed to have been digested, dealt with and packaged and shipped off and done, had somehow managed to escape and find their way to the home of their primary vector, he knew that his presence made very little sense. He was supposed to be the reinforcement, a guard dog and a warden, a pleasant human face to put to the ugly realities of coercion and imprisonment, and his only purpose was to keep Mark in line.

Any moment now, the new Carl was going to ask him a question, and he wasn’t going to have any way to answer it at all. The only way he could see clear to avoiding it, through the splitting threads of logic making their way through his fracturing head, was to ask it himself.

“What are you doing here?”

The new Carl blinked at him. So did Mark, jolted out of his paralysis by the light, perfectly unbothered, genuinely perplexed sound of Antonio’s voice. Antonio was quite interested by it as well. Saying one thing when you thought and felt something completely different was slippery and worrying, like being in a mine cart with all the brakes off, on an unknown course with no choice but to rocket headlong wherever the tracks were headed, but it was also weirdly freeing. Probably, this was why humans did it so much. In a way, he realised, it was only like reading a script, like having the pages of a Critics video under his hands and knowing them by heart, and saying the words not because he cared if any of them were true but because they needed to be said. Under it all, there was a very good reason for keeping the new Carl confused for as long as possible, true in Antonio’s head in the way that everything had been since the night he’d found the glasses. It would help Mark.

It certainly wasn’t helping the new Carl. He was still smiling, but now there was a tense edge to it, as if he was a live news anchor who was watching their autocue glitch and bluescreen behind the merciless eye of the camera.

“Well, this is where I’m supposed to be.” He spoke to Mark, as if Mark was the one who had asked. “Hey, Mark-o,” he added, and now Mark looked back at him with actual hatred, lips pulling back from his teeth like he was seeing something rotten that poked at his gag reflex. With the first spell broken, hearing a familiar nickname coming from the creature that had taken his dad’s face was a hard thing, an unfair thing for him to have to handle. Antonio felt for him, but on the whole, Mark angry was better than Mark paralysed with fear, Mark moonlighting as an inanimate piece of furniture.

“Talking about being where you’re supposed to be, you’ve had us pretty worried. For a while there, we didn’t even know where you’d got to!” The new Carl chuckled at the absurdity of the idea. “And now we’re just kind of curious to know what you’ve been doing all this time.” He glanced at Antonio again, but found nothing useful there, only a pleasant empty smile just as iron-clad and impenetrable as his own.

“...What you’ve been up to.”

“I’m not telling you a damn thing,” said Mark. He looked back at Antonio, too, and there was the same old fear and mistrust in that look but something else as well, that strange new something brought with them out of the Egress, weak and tenuous and questioning. His eyes flicked to the right, to the far wall, the window.

“Oh, Mark,” said the new Carl, gently. “You will.”

He moved, purposeful and alarmingly fast, and Mark jerked back and dodged like an eel but still only just managed to avoid the quick strong fingers that grabbed for his arm. He backed off a step, then scrambled past Antonio for the window. He yanked at the sash, but it didn’t move. The lock was a small blank keyhole, and there was no key.

The new Carl advanced, eyes locked on Mark’s back as he struggled with the window, but as he reached out again Antonio stepped into his way. The new Carl looked at him, immediately focused, with a new and pitying attention in his curious grin. Behind Antonio, Mark stopped struggling with the locked window and flattened himself against it, watching the two of them.

“So it is true,” said the new Carl, quietly. “I’m so sorry, kiddo. Does it hurt?”

Up until now, Antonio hadn’t allowed himself to think properly about how much might be known about what he’d done. He’d simply blocked off that path in his head, because it felt like a dangerous pit yawning there, a ruinous blind alley with no way back out. Now, he had no choice, and with the same razor-keen sense he himself had for weaknesses the new Carl seemed to pick right up on his reluctance to think, his fear. The small sharp eyes behind the glasses fixed keenly on him as if the thing wearing Carl Mayhew’s face was trying to grasp him, know every wrong thing about him, inside and out.

I didn’t mean to. The words were soundless, huge only in Antonio’s mind, squeezed out of the terrified part of him that could only think of the Very, Very Bad Thing, his betrayal of everything he’d been a part of for as long as he’d been a him. Maybe his lips moved, though his face felt numb and immobile as freezing clay. Maybe, they didn’t need to. The new Carl nodded, and his quick restless voice ran on, soothing, like a clear river.

“I know, I know,” he said. “It’s hard. When you’ve been part of something so wonderful, it’s hard to let it end.”

“I- I don’t-”

The new Carl dismissed his stumbling denial with an easy hand. There was a wedding ring on it, Antonio noticed, a simple plain band. “Don’t you think she understands? She feels every ending, every one of her children coming back to her. I was there for mine, and it was, oh, it was something special... and yours will be, too, you just have to let it happen. And she can fix you, kiddo, you know she can. Now, come on, it’s time.”

He smiled.

“It’s time to come home.”

Looking into the new Carl’s lined, friendly face, Antonio felt like he was staring into a black pit with only himself at the bottom of it, the terrible abnormality that had hold of him written plainly there for all to see. In his mind’s eye he saw the alien thing, the strange bug inside of him that had caused so much pain and trouble finally pinned down, laid bare for examination by those who knew far better than he could how to destroy it, excise it, how to take it away. A wave of longing hit him, for everything to be fixed, put back to how it was, to be set right-

Mark’s phone started to ring.

The tone was bright and ridiculously loud in the small room, and the shock of it went through Antonio like a plunge into icy water. The new Carl was distracted, too, looking down at the small thing vibrating and dancing across the tinfoil-covered floor where it had been dropped, and by the time he looked back up his pitying, forgiving expression just had time to start to change before the printer hit it, snapping his head back like a bowling ball in a shower of shattering white plastic and an unpleasantly meaty crunch.

Antonio didn’t wait for a reaction, but as the new Carl recoiled he hit him again, as hard as he could, this time as if the disintegrating printer was a blunt and awkward sideways club. The new Carl went over backwards, bouncing the back of his head hard off of the doorframe with a wet crack like gristle sticking between the blades a blender. A little sticky black stuff sprayed out across the wall, peppering the second noticeboard and making the anxious young man in the yellow shirt look as if he’d suddenly grown an irregular crop of freckles. The heavy sound of a collapsing body was somewhat muted by the shivering tinfoil, blow after blow lost under the jangling music of Mark’s phone as it shimmied its way across the floor.

Antonio dropped the remains of the printer, a pile of metal guts held together by twisted plastic. He stared down at the crumpled body of the new Carl, the remains of the stolen face pressed to the tinfoil floor, the shards of plastic and spreading dark goop around the mess of the back of his head in a ghastly nimbus.

Behind him, Mark stooped and picked up his phone, severing the call with a beep. He looked down at the new Carl, too, and Antonio saw that his jaw was set and his face was empty of any colour, not dead-stagnant but bloodless, white with fury. He bent again and wrenched viciously at the sprawled left hand, then straightened, backing up in disgust.

“How do we kill it?”

“What?”

Mark looked at him, full in the face. His eyes were hot and burning. This was not the Mark who could be talked to, calmed, reasoned with. This was not even the Mark responsible for the long dark line across Antonio’s face, or that small dent in the stair banisters three steps from the bottom. A terrible and inevitable reaction was in his face, the set lines of his mouth, his hard voice, the result of some horrendous internal pressure. It made sense, in a way Antonio didn’t really understand with words but felt, quite clearly. Take plain carbon, sullen and inert, crush it hard enough, for long enough- and it will become a white-hot coal.

“How,” said Mark, with emphasis on every slow, deliberate syllable, “do we, kill it?”

*

Between them, they dragged the new Carl to the window. The sash was still locked, but Antonio set his hands under it and heaved, and it jerked up in two crooked starts with an abrupt crunch of pained timber each time, scattering long white bits of splintered frame across the desk and the papers and the body and the acres of crumpled foil. He pushed it up as high as it would go, slamming it into the top of the frame hard enough to rattle the glass and wedge it firmly in place.

It wasn’t heavy work, not for Antonio at least, but it was awkward. They pulled and pushed and fought the limp, leaking body over the sill and to the edge of the fire escape. It was five or six floors, a long blank fall into a run-down court full of rubbish between the trunks of lopped-down dead trees and a door blocked with a blank wedge of dry gray wood. Trickling a trail of sticky black goop from his broken face, the body of the new Carl was just about starting to twitch under their hands as they pulled him awkwardly up over the railing, a thin stained backbone of metal that muddled Antonio’s head even worse than it already was and made him think of a green algous light, pattering rain that was not rain and the endless whum-whum-whum of a giant, invisible fan.

The new Carl stirred. The one intact eye behind the shattered glasses stuttered open, wide, perhaps surprised to find itself looking up at the triangle of sky. He started to strain against the curve of his own deadweight body over the railing and the pull of gravity to right himself, like a turtle on its back, and the dilated shark-black pupil moved wonderingly sideways and fixed them both.

“I’m not mad,” he told them- kindly, with all of the compassion in the world. The mess of far too many teeth, real and human, the twists and rags of skin, was still trying to smile.  “I’m just dis-”

Mark let go. Antonio, following like a program set to do nothing but repeat what it saw, lifted his hands numbly away, and the weight of the new Carl did the rest. His shoulders slid over, the rest of him followed, and sent him plunging head-first into the void.